《The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound》


 Chapter 1: Hellhound (1)

    <h4>Chapter 1: Hellhound (1)</h4>

    The years of bloodshed had finally ended

    The war between the humans and the demons thatsted for decades left a terrifying record in the history books as the ''Age of Destruction''.

    And the day when the victory of the humans has been written down in the books.

    A neck was hung at the front gate of the Baskevilles, famous for their iron-blooded swordsmen.

    Vikir. ''Vikir Van Baskeville''.

    The illegitimate son of Hugo Le Baskeville, the head of the Baskeville family.

    The shadow that has been covered with countless blood on the back of the family.

    It was the hound of the Baskevilles.

    Vikir struggled

    He had always struggled.

    A bastard. Son of a Concubine.

    So ''Van'' middle name.

    He was not born with a surname such as ''Le'' or ''Re'', which his half-siblings in the main family received, and because of that, he had to work hundreds of times more than others.

    But in the end it was all for nothing.

    Spying, assassination, kidnapping, ckmail, smuggling... ... For the sake of his family, he crossed over 500 dangerous missions but in the end, they forsook him.

    The moment when he is used of being a spy for the demons and executed along with an unfair false charge.

    He gritted his teeth.

    He wanted to live

    Aye- Aye- Aye-

    A baby''s cry echoed throughout therge room.

    The iron-blooded swordsman, the Baskeville family, had dozens ofyers of slopes.

    The head of the house, the Marquis Hugo Baskeville, raised a nonchnt eye and scanned the children born this year.

    "There aren''t any guys that look useful."

    It was quite harsh for a father''s first evaluation of children born this year.

    ... ... at that time.

    Hugo, passing through the cribs in the nursery, stopped at one point.

    Vikir. Vikir van Baskeville.

    Originally, an illegitimate child who did not even deserve to be here.

    Unlike the other siblings who are almost 6 to 8 months old, a being who has just entered this room after having justpleted 100 days.

    The baby wasn''t crying.

    He justy still with his eyes closed, as if he were dead.

    "... ... ."

    Hugo looked at Vikir and rxed hisplexion a little.

    It''s not that he was happy that Vikir''s qualities seem superior to those of his other offspring.

    However, it was from the thought that if it was a ce where only garbage was lined up anyway, it would be better to have garbage that was a little less noisy.

    Eventually, Hugo spoke to dozens of nannies in the city behind him.

    "Move the children to the ''Cradle of the swords''."

    The children of the Baskevilles are put to the test from the moment they are born.

    from cradle to the grave.

    The first of these tests began right away.

    ... ... What is the cradle of swords?

    It is a unique rite of passage for the Baskevilles.

    Countless knives are nted like a maze on a round hill and a baby is dropped in the middle.

    The baby is trapped in the maze created by the de and wandered through it.

    Even if it moves, he get cut by the des all over his body.

    In this environment, babies have to crawl on the floor and through abyrinth of needles.

    It is only when you immerse yourself in the river ''Styx'' outside of thebyrinth that you be a Baskeville in its true sense.

    ''The Styx water is only effective for children under one year of age. If you soak your body in this river, your whole body bes as hard as steel.''

    Of course, the power of this river is not infinite.

    If one baby sucks up most of her power, the other sucks in rtively less since the power remaining is lesser.

    It''s like her mother''s lifeline.

    The children of the Baskevilles were now thrown into the cradle of the sword.

    Who is the first to get out of thisbyrinth and jump into the river first? That will determine the future of these children.

    Thirty-two children born this year, including all of the family''s rightful sons, bastards, and cousins,pete with each other in the middle of the cradle of swords.

    The des, densely packed with tracks for the children to the go through and be the sharpest of thorns.

    Aye- Aye- Aye-

    A baby who cried looking for a babysitter, while another was already crawling, he was bleeding from being cut by the des, and another one who sat down and sucking his finger as he had no intention of escaping yet... ... Babies are usually like that.

    In fact, since these babies are less than a year old, it is a natural result.

    however.

    "Useless."

    Hugo Baskeville''s assessment was terribly cold.

    A small, fragile creature. A creature that cannot survive without the help of others.

    There was contempt in Hugo''s gaze at the human body.

    Even if it is your own child, there is no exception.

    Being one of the seven best swordsmen on the continent, he was famous for being an iron man from birth.

    "Only like this can we fight the demons. The strong will survive and leave the weak behind"

    Hugo stood high and looked at the waters of the Styx, which flowed around the cradle of the sword, andmented.

    The secret river, which flows only in the Holy Land of the Baskeville family, has the effect of increasing mana, purifying one''s aura, and making one''s body as tough and hard as steel just by soaking one''s body.

    If it hadn''t been for something that only worked for children under the age of 1, Hugo would have soaked himself right away.

    When Hugo is looking at the river with a sad expression.

    "... ... hey, over there!"

    "Ah, how can it be!"

    "Nonsense!"

    Arguments erupted from everywhere.

    What was there to be astonished at by the family''s guardian knights, who were not shaken by anything?

    Hugo raised his head with a puzzled expression.

    and that moment.

    "... ... !"

    His eyes, which had been filled with bitter boredom, contempt, impatience, and disappointment, lit up.

    The cradle of the sword.

    For through this thick forest of des a child was heading straight for the River Styx.

    Jjoeok- Jjeook- Fit-

    The child''s body is already covered in blood.

    Surprisingly, the child was going straight through the cradle of needles, which were spiraled like a snail''s shell.

    Instead of going round and round on a rtively safe road, he directly squeezes into the small gap between the des.

    There was a knife mark on his white, soft cheek.

    His soft waist and forearms were cut and torn all over.

    His knees were all bruised and the soft palms were already bloody.

    A child crawling forward, making a bloody path by squeezing between the countless needles.

    Everyone in the family was overwhelmed by the spirit of this child who was less than 100 days old.

    It was the same with Hugo Les Baskeville, the head of Baskeville, the iron-blooded swordsman.

    Before long, the child waspletely out of the maze.

    His siblings were still trapped in the center of the cradle of the sword and could not get out.

    ... with a plop!

    Soon the child came out of the cradle, he threw himself into the River Styx.

    The river water started turning red.

    Hugo moved forward in an unusual way, clutching the railing with both hands.

    Seeing the cracks in the marble railing, the attendants widened their eyes.

    It was because it was the first time I had seen him, who usually showed an emotionless attitude in everything, be so agitated.

    "What happened to him?"

    Hugo raised his voice.

    The child who fell into the River Styx still did note up.

    Before long, several of the family''s guardian knights approached the River Styx and peered into it.

    and. The knights were frightened at once.

    "Sir, he is drinking the river water!"

    It was an answer that would make Hugo''s mouth turn into a grin.

 Chapter 2: Hellhound (2)

    <h4>Chapter 2: Hellhound (2)</h4>

    ''Where is this ce?''

    Vikir checked his body.

    There was no mana and it was extremely weak

    There is not even a handful of auras that he had built up across his countless battles

    ''Did I fall into hell?''

    But it is not.

    This ce... ... It''s too barren to even call it hell.

    A ce where even hell would look more hospitable. Because that is the Baskeville family.

    '' There is no way that I do not know the atmosphere of the ce where I have lived as a hunting dog for the past 30 years. ''

    The smell of blood, of pus, of all that was filthy and dead.

    Vikir van Baskeville had a hunch. That he had returned to the time when he had just been born.

    ''What should I do now?''

    A body that has just lived for about 100 days. There''s not much you can do.

    Just turning over and signaling the shared nursery nanny to breastfeed?

    Right then.

    "There aren''t any guys that look useful."

    A familiar voice was heard.

    Hugo Les Baskevilles, patriarch of the Baskevilles, was seen standing in the center of the nursery.

    The moment he heard his voice, Vikir almost got up and bowed, as was his habit in life.

    Fortunately, it was impossible because of the body of a newborn baby.

    Pudeuk-

    Seeing the main culprit who had executed him , he gritted his teeth.

    However, because the body had not yet grown teeth, there was no sound.

    ''Let''s calm down.''

    In the past, in order to be a member of the Baskeville family, to be recognized by his father, and to get rid of the pretense of being an illegitimate child, the days of shame and shame he struggled with.

    Inferior blood, the tag did not leave him no matter what he did.

    I would live differently in this life. If the rabbit disappears, it will not live a life like a hound being boiled.

    Right then.

    There was an opportunity that made Vikir''s determination even stronger.

    "Move the children to the ''cradle of the sword''."

    I heard Hugo''s words.

    As she left in the hands of her nanny, Vikir''s mind was racing.

    ''Is it the first rite of passage?''

    The Cradle of Swords is a journey to the River Styx, which took ce around a small hill.

    The moment they moved through the maze made of swords and dive into the River Styx, the children of the Baskeville family are reborn as warriors.

    Of course, the blessing of the River Styx did not give strength equally.

    The weak die and the strong survive.

    The strong get more than the weak.

    The children of the Baskevilles must get out of the cradle of swords as quickly as possible and dive into the River Styx.

    You need to soak in the river as quickly as possible and for as long as possible to gain an advantage over your brothers.

    So Vikir moved as soon as he was thrown into the center of the cradle of swords.

    ... Bck!

    He moved the de with two soft hands.

    It is said that children from some prestigious families take things that help them in the future, but children from the Baskeville family have to grab the des that threaten their future from the first birthday.

    Spit- Pot- Jjik- Jjik-

    The de cut through his skin.

    Every time he squeezed between the des with force, a burning pain rushed through his whole body.

    But it didn''t matter.

    This level of pain is something he had be ustomed to after living as a hunting dog for the past few decades.

    ''Moreover, the deeper the wound, the better, so that the water of the Styx can permeate the body better.''

    Vikir knew all the secrets, legends, myths, and ghost stories of the Baskevilles.

    That''s why he knows how to make the most of the River Styx.

    Eonggeum... Eonggeum... Eonggeum...

    The child''s soft body is led to hell by the hound''s hardened soul.

    The blood flowing from his body and going down the ramp indicated the straight route and the shortest distance to go forward.

    Vikir continued to crawl in the direction as he continued to bleed.

    And soon, he reached the holy ground of the Baskevilles.

    River Styx flowing through the swamp.

    When you soak in this ce, your body bes as hard as steel and your soul bes extremely strong.

    Vikir threw himself into the river in his fetal position.

    ... with a plop!

    heavy. It was as painful as if I had been submerged in boiling molten iron.

    Water hot enough to steam up. Having fallen here with countless stabs all over her body, there was no doubt that it would not be painful.

    But Vikir endured the pain of being boiled. And he waited

    The waters of the Styx permeated through the cuts, torn, and bursting wounds.

    yet.

    Tsutsutsutsutsu... ...

    The body began to change.

    The water of Styx, which permeated through the wounds and prated into the bones and intestines, was transforming Vikir''s body from one to ten.

    ''It''s definitely different.''

    Vikir was amazed that his good start could make such a dramatic difference.

    The body of the previous life was tough and seasoned, but it was still small and thinpared to the others.

    Since the bones themselves were weak, there were limits to attaching muscles, and since the mana paths were narrow, there were clear restrictions on raising the aura.

    But his brothers were different. Tall, thick bones, and a wide mana veins.

    It is different in talent, quality, and starting line.

    In his previous life, Vikir almost came out of the Tower of Swords inst ce.

    So he couldn''t properly enjoy the effect of the river Styx.

    Because all of his brothers had already absorbed that power.

    Since then, due to his background as an illegitimate child and poor talent, he has been given only thest rank every time.

    When others ate healthy food, wore the best stuff, slept infortable beds.

    He ate dirty scarps, wore shitty clothes, slept in dirty ces.

    The achievements obtained by him were taken by his brothers.

    It was the same in the war with the demons.

    No matter how many demons and demons he killed, the achievements always belonged to his father or half brothers.

    There was little to no reward.

    It was not only the demons that had to be killed, but also his father''s political enemies and humans.

    He had to spy, assassinate, espionage, ambush, and intimidate the entire seven families, and in doing so, he raised Baskeville to the top of the seven families.

    ... ... But what was the result?

    Execution

    When the rabbit disappears and the hunt is over, there is no need for a hunting dog.

    used of conspiring with the demons, Vikir was executed while bearing all the dirty sins of Hugo.

    His sin was only one.

    ''Knowing too much''.

    sigh-

    Vikir gnashed his teeth.

    The teeth that started to grow in the mouth collided fiercely before he knew it.

    The water of the Styx rushed in following the fury that reached the marrow within the bones, and soon changed the bones thicker, the flesh tougher, and the mana barrel wider.

    Of course, the burning pain continued to creep in, but it didn''t matter.

    Vikir even started drinking water.

    He was thinking of strengthening the internal organs as well.

    He was thinking of an old legend passed down in the Baskevilles.

    ''A long time ago, there was an invincible warrior in Baskeville, right?''

    The strongest swordsman who did not even get a single scratch on his skin, let alone a bone, even when hit by an axe.

    But his end was truly absurd.

    A poisoned arrow shot by a rival from another n struck him in the heel, and he died from the aftereffects.

    It was because, when he was a baby, his nurse grabbed him by the ankles and dipped him upside down into the Styx, leaving a rtively weak spot where the water didn''t reach because of the nurse''s palms.

    ''It shouldn''t have that kind of part.''

    Vikir did his best to stir himself in the river.

    He twisted his body as best he can, leaving no part untouched by the water.

    In the meantime, the wound opened and opened, but it was even better.

    Because the water can permeate well into the body.

    bubbling bubbling... ...

    The blood drained out and his body started turning numb..

    he was out of breath and wanted to get to the surface as quickly as possible.

    But it can''t be.

    The River Styx never epts a child once it has left its arms.

    If only the head was exposed to breathe, only the head would no longer be protected.

    So Vikir desperately held on to the stone in the river.

    He continued to stir his arm so that the river water could touch the palm holding the stone.

    at that time.

    I hear faint voices in my ears.

    "young master! You muste out!"

    "If you stay submerged any longer, you will die!"

    "oh my god! he might die like this!"

    "Get it! we have to pick him up!"

    It looks like there was an uproar from above. Well, that''s bound to be the case.

    Excessive greed bes poison. It''s good to strengthen the body, but shouldn''t it be suffocating and dying?

    even.

    "Son. Come up now."

    The voice of Hugo Le Baskeville is also heard.

    But that voice only fuels Vikir''s rage.

    Soowook-

    Vikir stood up.

    But he just didn''t get up.

    gulp- gulp- gulp- gulp-

    Drink the water of the River Styx in your mouth. to the very end.

    and.

    "Puha-"

    As soon as youe up, breathe in the air to your heart''s content.

    Vikir opened his mouth wide to breathe.

    Seeing him, Hugo Les Baskevilles smiles brightly, which is rare.

    "Hahaha, look at this guy? Didn''t your teeth grow back then!"

    Hounds boiled in boiling water exposed fangs.

 Chapter 3: Hellhound (3)

    <h4>Chapter 3: Hellhound (3)</h4>

    Baby Vikir.

    He was lying in the darkness of the shared nursery.

    There is not much you can do with the body of a child who can''t even control his body.

    He just sucks on his nanny''s milk and thinks over each situation before returning.

    8 years old.

    He felt mana for the first time. In the world, he was a talent worthy of being called a genius, but within the Baskevilles, he was just mediocre.

    15 years old.

    He has umted 1 circle level mana. His sword was able to light up an aura, albeit faintly.

    20 years old.

    He started putting himself into action in earnest. He mainly took on missions such as assassination, spying, and subjugation of barbarians.

    25 years old.

    Is it because the ship lived more fiercely than others? Descendants of the Baskevilles had mastered swordsmanship at a level they hadn''t reached even in their thirties.

    29 years old.

    The limits to which an illegitimate child were clear. The direct descendants, who hadgged behind for a while, began to run ahead of him as soon as they gained practical experience, and soon disappeared so far forward that he couldn''t even see them.

    30 years old.

    The gates to the Pandemonium were opened and countless demons began to invade.

    35 years old.

    He endured the era of destruction, umted a lot of practical experience, and killed more monsters than anyone else.

    39 years old.

    He won the war for the Empire. It was a valuable victory for the humans.

    40 years old.

    A hunting dog that had been loyal throughout its life. But the Baskevilles did not reciprocate that loyalty. What came back was the nder and false usation of colluding with the demons. And then it was the guillotine.

    aww-

    Hatred for Hugo Baskeville crept in.

    When Vikir gnashed his teeth, as the nanny was startled and pulled him away from herself.

    "Ah, the young master goes through this sometimes."

    She put Vikir in the cradle and got up.

    Now that her shift is over, it''s time to switch to another nanny.

    but.

    Swoop-

    The nanny, who should have gone through the door as usual, looked around her and then went to the bed across from her.

    "Come on, young men. eat up."

    The nurse started breastfeeding some of the children she had nursed earlier.

    The children of the Baskevilles are raised together in one room.

    It is to raise all children equally.

    But what mother would treat her own child and her half-brother the same?

    Some mothers memorized the characteristics of their children well and would tell the nanny and ask for a longer breastfeeding sessions.

    Of course, for Vikir who did not know who his mother was, so he had no choice but to set aside all expectations.

    At least until you can get food and eat it with your own hands, you will have to grow up to be able to do anything quickly.

    ... Right then.

    A something unexpected happened.

    The nanny, who looked around her, approached Vikir''s cradle again.

    "Ugh. why would Madam want to bring this to Master Vikir''s cradle?"

    Lady? There are few people in this family who were called ''Lady''.

    And there is even less reason for someone like that to ask for something to be brought to him.

    The nurse took out a ratherrge box from her bosom, and she herself did not seem to know what was in it.

    Dalgrak-

    The nanny tilted her head a few times as she ced the box in Vikir''s cradle.

    the she stormed out of her nursery with her galloping stride.

    "... ... ."

    Vikir stared at the box next to him.

    Did he have any memories like this before he regressed? There was nothing.

    He lifted his head with difficulty and looked out of the cradle.

    Vikir''s Cradle, quite far from the other cradles.

    Something doesn''t feel right

    And his instincts were right.

    Creepy �C Creepy �C

    Before long, the box was squeezed and something poked out its head.

    A gift for a newborn child.

    snakes.

    Two ck, triangr-headed snakes were exposing their thick bodies out of the box.

    Bloody Mamba.

    A venomous snake is also called Chilbosa because if bitten, one dies before taking seven steps.

    It is a rare species that is rarely found in the world.

    Vikir half-opened his mouth in amazement.

    Who released this snake here?

    Apparently, the nanny also left without knowing what she had unlocked.

    Vikir, who was bewildered for a moment, soon grasped the situation.

    ''Come to think of it, there were often cases of babies dying mysteriously in the nursery.''

    There were many cases in which children who had outstanding abilities died prematurely.

    In the meantime, it was a different world from him, and he thought it was just an idental death, an assassination from an enemy, or just bad luck.

    But looking at it now, the situation is not very good.

    The ck hand aiming for the nursery must have been reaching out from within the family.

    shhh-

    Two bloody mambas areing towards him.

    their red mouth, gleaming fangs, seemed already covered in blood.

    In the event of an emergency, all the children in this nursery could be exterminated by them.

    If that happens, there will be a catastrophe unprecedented in the history of the Baskevilles.

    ''... ... Well, that''s not too bad either.''

    There is no attachment to the family at all.

    However, if revengee at the cost of self harm then it is useless.

    Vikir stretched out his hand.

    After going through the era of destruction, he had beaten and killed countless monsters.

    He had dealt with reptilian monsters, especially those in the form of snakes, many times, and of course he was well aware of their weaknesses.

    He could kill them with the body of a newborn child.

    ... Kwak Kwak!

    Vikir stretched out his two hands and grabbed a poisonous snake each.

    The ce he caught was right around the nape of their neck. A ce where it could not reach.

    Rather, the snakes that have been preemptively attacked began to struggle.

    They tried to stab Vikir with sharp scales, but body body was already hardened by the protection of the River Styx, so it was impossible.

    ''I don''t know about it''s teeth, but the scales won''t hurt me.''

    At the same time. Vikir operated his mana.

    His body, which had been empty since he was born, was filled with mana.

    It was the result of drinking the water of the River Styx to its limit.

    ... Pod!

    His fists began to emit a twinkle of light.

    It is a state that the babies in the nursery gathered here will be able to reach in the next 8 years.

    That''s what Vikir did when he was less than eight months old.

    Tsutsutsutsutsu... ...

    The bodies of the two venomous snakes stiffened.

    It was when a weaker creature faced a predator.

    The two venomous snakes froze with their scales stiff, as if they felt unprecedented fear from the child in front of them.

    Before long, Vikir''s mana-infused hands ferociously twisted the necks of the two venomous snakes.

    ... Wood deok!

    The hide and the flesh beneath it are intact, but the bones supporting them broke.

    The two venomous snakes each opened their mouths.

    The pressure caused her two eyeballs to protrude and her tongue to stick out.

    The two venomous snakes, whose necks were broken, shuddered at that moment and died.

    Deadly venom dripped from the tips of the exposed fangs.

    next day.

    All the guardian knights in the family gathered in themon childcare room at the screams of the nanny who came to work first.

    Vikir, smiling brightly, held two venomous snakes with broken necks in his hands.

    The Guardian Knights who saw that it was the bloody mamba, the notorious venom of the ''Le Rogue'' Mountains, were literally surprised to the point that they didn''t belive their eyes.

    Even though it was a dead snake, it was still a great disaster that such a monster was found in a nursery.

    Within a few minutes, this was transmitted to Hugo, who was in the main castle, and he ran straight to the Fang castle.

    Afterwards, all the nannies who worked the night shift were tortured and executed, and a really strict guard was set up in the nursery.

    The culprit who released the poisonous snake was never found.

    but only one person.

    "... ... ."

    A young hound dog, silently, saw through it all.

    A legendary child who, since he was born, crossed the cradle of swords in the shortest time, dived in the River Styx for the longest time, and strangled two poisonous snakes in the cradle.

    Vikir Van Baskeville.

    He just waited quietly, lying in the cradle.

    For the moment to repay his debt, the time for revenge.

    ... ... .

    And eight years have passed since then.

 Chapter 4: The Baskerville Dog (1)

    <h4>Chapter 4: The Baskerville Dog (1)</h4>

    Eight years have passed.

    Vikir van Baskeville had turned eight years old and, as is the case with children in the Baskevilles, was taking his sses.

    "Okay,st question. How did you say to ssify the level of a swordsman?"

    Vikir replied with a calm expression.

    "Regardless of swordsmanship proficiency,

    A swordsman who does not know how to load mana into a sword is a ''sword beginner'',

    A state that knows how to load mana into the tip of a sword, but the aura raised by doing so is weak like a gas is a ''sword expert'',

    The state where the aura rising from the sword bes sticky and dense like a liquid is called ''Sword Graduator'',

    and the state where the aura bes hard like a solid and the shape can be changed ording to the caster''s will is called ''Sword Master''. "

    Of course, all of these are separated for convenience.

    Basically,bat is affected by numerous factors such as health, terrain, climate, humidity, gravity, experience, and the density of mana in the air.

    You can calcte it, but when you calcte it, the result will already be different.

    But the calctions for 8-year-olds aren''t thatplicated yet.

    When Vikir answered without hesitation, the other children around him raised their hands and shouted along, as ifpeting.

    "If a beginner and an expert fight, the expert wins!"

    "If you fight an expert and a graduate, the graduate will win!"

    "Master is stronger than graduate!"

    "And the head of household is the master!"

    Vikir was silently listening to the children around him.

    The words of one of the guys stab him in the chest.

    ''The head of the household is a master!''

    Hugo Le Baskevilles, head of the Baskevilles.

    For a wizard, he possesses as much as 7 circles of mana.

    However, as a master of swordsmanship, he transformed mana into aura and used it on a sword, and it is said that the level reached the sword master respected by the world.

    The tutor nodded as he looked at them,

    "Lord Hugo, is a sword master. This is a stage that only 7 people have reached in this country, ''Rock'', and each head of the 7 families corresponds to this."

    Of course, Vikir already knew this fact.

    He even knew that there were several more sword masters in and out of the empire.

    This is information no one knew about right now.

    Vikir is thinking hard about something alone.

    The tutor''s eyes were on Vikir from earlier.

    ''He''s amazing.''

    A truly overwhelming talent.

    It is a small legend in the family that a child who was only 100 days old dived for more than 7 minutes in the River Styx.

    But who respect muscle brained idiots?

    Even though it was overshadowed by the extraordinary of the body, he had the brains that were unmatched.

    It is worthy of being dared to call it ''a talent that learn a hundred things after being taught one''.

    ''The lord must be happy today.''

    He was going to report all this to Hugo.

    Originally, Hugo is not very interested in the rest of the children unless they are the eldest or the second.

    Hugo, who had been acting as if he was just a livestock wholesaler, stopping by asionally to record the growth and value of livestock, has suddenly increased his interest in Fang castle over the past few years.

    Of course it''s because of Vikir.

    It was extremely unusual for Hugo toe to Fang castle, a ce where only children under the age of 10 gather and raise children together, so the tutors who were in charge of this ce had a hard time on their shoulders these days.

    ''Thank you, Young Master. I will do my best to assist you.''

    Thanks to Vikir, the budget has increased a lot and his position has grownpared to other knights in the family, so everyone was looking at Vikir with favorable eyes.

    Of course, Vikir himself was not interested.

    After ss, around the time when the children were going back to their rooms throughout the castle.

    Vikir was looking back at herself now.

    ''Hugo is a master,''

    Unfortunately, that is true.

    Its density and rigidity were on a different level from the ''solid aura'' that only masters could express, and his own ''sticky liquid'' aura that was a senior graduate.

    aww-

    Vikir gritted his teeth

    In this life, he would never live or die a meaningless death.

    ''At least before theing-of-age ceremony, all his previous strength should be restored.''

    Currently 8 years old.

    Vikir''s level had reached the advanced level of Sword Expert without anyone noticing.

    In his previous life, it was a state that he had barely achieved until he was over 20 years old.

    Before his return, he was at the age of ten, and he had risen to the rank of Sword Expert.

    In fact, even this much was great enough to be passed as a genius by the standards of the world, but within the Baskervilles, it was mediocre, or slightly less than that.

    Usually, the children of the Baskervilles knock on the door of advanced sword experts around the age of 20 and graduates around the age of 30.

    If you can put ''liquid aura'' on the tip of your sword in that way, you will rise to the position of an executive from here.

    Even the elite of the Baskervilles, who are said to be the geniuses among geniuses, reached the age of 20 as the threshold for advanced sword experts.

    But Vikir was stepping on it now, at the age of eight.

    In his previous life, he was at an age where he had never felt mana.

    This is a state that even the super-elite within the family would not dare to surpass.

    When Vikir is feeling a new emotion.

    "hey."

    A voice called from behind.

    Wanting something, I turned my head and saw three children in my 9-year-old ss.

    Hivero Le Baskeville, Mivero Le Baskeville, Lovero Le Baskeville.

    The surname of ''Le'' given to boys of direct lineage, and the surname ''Ra'' to girls.

    The three here are said to be direct descendants of the Baskevilles.

    The pedigree is very clear.

    How clich��, Hivero, the eldest in the front, started to argue with Vikir.

    "''Half'' trash, where are you going?"

    "Where are you going?"

    "Where are you going?"

    If the guy in front sings the lead, the two guys behind sing the afterword.

    It was a fight like a nine-year-old.

    Well, anyway, the Baskevilles are thorough on talent supremacy, so this won''t happen when they get a little older.

    However, the reason Vikir kept a close eye on the triplets in front of him was for another reason.

    ''... ... The trident of Hugo Baskerville.''

    In 10 more years, those guys will grow into quite troublesome enemies.

    In fact, before returning, these are the three hounds who tenaciously pursued and stabbed Vikir, who escaped through the siege.

    ''Come to think of it, these guys have been harassing me a lot since I was young.''

    Vikir''s growth was very slow when he was young because they took away so much food.

    During various evaluations, he sneakily stepped on his feet and backstabbed him.

    Because of that, there were many times when he almost died on various missions in the wind that caused him tome a little.

    ... sh!

    Vikir''s eyes turned red.

    Unkowingly, the triplets, who had just turned 9, giggled and surrounded Vikir.

    "Hey trash, you said you submerged in the Styx for 7 minutes? And what, strangled two vipers in the cradle? bluff a little bit. Where can a guy who is only 8 years old lie!"

    "lie!"

    "lie!"

    Hive, the most vicious of the three, took a step forward.

    "Can you do this?"

    At the same time, a small sphere glows faintly above the palm of his hand.

    The young children of the Baskerville family are different from the majourity in mana sensitivity and mana management.

    It was already possible to condense mana and gather it in a circle.

    It seemed that he hadn''t been able to put it on his sword yet, but even so, it was enough to be praised as a genius in the world.

    Of course, even within the Baskerville family, he can be praised for being quite talented.

    "This is a talent. Do it soon too! See how much mana you can take out."

    "Look!"

    "Look!"

    The triplets continued to push Vikir.

    "... ... ."

    Vikir looked at the lump of mana that Lovero had created.

    A mana sphere the size of a child''s fist. Yeah, at that age, they should be good enough to do that.

    But Vikir had already done that much at the age of eight months.

    When he strangled two poisonous snakes in the cradle.

    Since the mana proficiency of 8 years after the return was added to the 30 years before the return, where does that level reach?

    Vikir looked around him once.

    There are not many things to worry about in the ''Fang Castle'' where only children live.

    The few guardian knights and tutors are now all out to the outer castle.

    ... Pod!

    The power of Vikir was expressed.

    Vikir who raises his palms high and started collecting mana.

    Seeing this, the faces of the triplets turned into astonishment.

    "... ... !"

    "... ... !"

    "... ... !"

    Nothing was created on Vikir''s palm.

    The triplets put on a dazed expression for a moment, then startedughing loudly.

    "Ahahahaha, you little shit! Could it be that you couldn''t even respond to mana until you were that old?"

    "Couldn''t you?"

    "Couldn''t you?"

    The guys are so intent on ridiculing that they even shed tears.

    ... ... but.

    At the same time, a watchtower not too far from Fang Castle.

    One of the guards on duty was perplexed by the unexpected change seen through the windows.

    "What? Why are there two suns above Fang Castle?"

 Chapter 5: The Baskerville Dog (2)

    <h4>Chapter 5: The Baskerville Dog (2)</h4>

    "I don''t like you. Follow me."

    "Follow me."

    "Follow me."

    The 9-year-old triplets of the Baskervilles, Hivero, Mivero, and Lovero started dragging him.

    "... ... ."

    Eight-year-old Vikir thought with his mouth shut.

    In my childhood before returning, meeting these guys was as terrifying as meeting a god of death.

    Decadester, these guys were also involved in his own execution.

    Above all, these are warriors who will be so outstanding that they will be called ''The Baskeville''s Trident'' or ''Hugo Baskeville''s Trident'' in a decade or so.

    Aren''t they youngsters who will make great achievements for the Baskevilles?

    So it was necessary to nip the buds in advance.

    In order to devour the Baskevilles in the future.

    "... ... Hee. I''m afraid of you guys."

    is this the right way to do it?

    Vikir looked up and cried like a child who was scared.

    As he said to the triplets scoffed arrogantly.

    "Shouldn''t we rather go to a ce where no one is around?"

    Then the triplets giggled.

    "So you know what honor is,"

    "Ah yes."

    "Ah yes."

    Beating in a ce where there are many eyes is a nuisance even for triplets.

    They would break Vikir''s arms, cover his mouth, and drag him to a secluded ce.

    ''Fang Castle'' is a castle that has been built for a long time, and there are many secluded and nooks and crannies, like a building that follows the old architectural style.

    Crossing the submerged cer entrance, past an abandoned food warehouse and an unrepaired crack, up the spiral staircase.

    The triplets were dragged into a secluded room in the hallway where they didn''t wear their bikinis.

    The captain, Hivero, said with a smile.

    "If you scream, one ce might get cut off. Well, if you go to the infirmary in time, you should be able to attach it."

    "you can attach it."

    "you can attach it."

    I can''t believe that I''m 9 years old when I take out a dagger from my waist and see her smiling darkly.

    Are young children more cruel?

    Childrenugh while taking off the head or wings of insects and stepping on them to kill them.

    Even ordinary children do this, but the children of the Baskervilles needless to say were far ahead in this.

    These three little demons surrounded Vikir.

    "I heard you dived for seven minutes in the River Styx? Iughed for a while after hearing that brag from the nanny."

    "Laughed."

    "Laughed."

    Hivero nodded to the youngest, Lovero, who was next to him.

    Then Lovero smiled and nodded his head, then went back to Vikir''s back and covered Vikir''s nose and mouth with both hands.

    Hivero looked at Vikir''s face andughed meanly.

    "What about 7 minutes? if you canst for three minutes, I will cut off my finger."

    "I will support you!"

    "I will support you!"

    Low Bro puts even more pressure on Vikir''s hand, which covered his nose and mouth.

    I could feel innocent malice from his tightly sped hands, as if he wouldn''t allow me to take a sigh of breath.

    Hivero and Middlebro are smiling brightly, holding both arms tightly in the hope of subduing Vikir.

    ... ... but.

    "... ... ?"

    "... ... ?"

    "... ... ?"

    The triplets turn his head with a puzzled expression.

    For Vikir stood still, not moving at all, watching the triplets.

    "Hehehe, do you want to hold on? There is quite a bit of spirit. Let''s see how far it goes."

    "See you."

    "See you."

    The triplets give more strength to their hands.

    One minute passed like that.

    Since he didn''t even raise his mana, he would be short of breath as a kid.

    "... ... ."

    But Vikir just stands there with calm eyes, just like the first time.

    "... ... You''re holding up pretty well, kid."

    "kid."

    "kid."

    The triplets were busy tightening his hands, not realizing that the smiles on their lips were slowly fading away.

    And he was over 2 minutes.

    The triplets had stopped talking a little.

    The time surrounding the still standing Vikir began to feel too long.

    "... ... what is this child Is he not breathing?"

    "no?"

    "no!"

    Lovero shook his head. Clearly, Vikir was holding his breath.

    and 3 minutes.

    4 minutes.

    5 minutes.

    6 minutes.

    7 minutes.

    8 minutes.

    9 minutes.

    10 minutes.

    Vikir stands still.

    In the meantime, there was only a chilling silence in the room.

    At this point, the backs of the triplets, who are rather bullying, are drenched in cold sweat.

    If you actually feel them counting from 1 to 60, you could see their nervousness.

    All the while, Vikir was staring at the triplets, blinking his eyes calmly

    ... ... with grave silence.

    yet.

    Hivero forced a smile and gestured to Lowbro.

    "... ... Jae, that''s not funny. Set this bastard free."

    "Free him."

    "Free him."

    The moment Lovero was about to removed his hand from Vikir''s mouth.

    "Keah!?"

    A sudden noise bursts out.

    It wasn''t the sound of Vikir gasping for breath or struggling.

    Blood was gushing out of Lovero''s index finger.

    "... ... Twi."

    Vikir spit out what came into his mouth after chewing it a few times.

    Then he smiled at the triplets in front of him.

    "You said that I would get my fingers cut?"

    Vikirughed with blood still in his mouth.

    Seeing this, theplexions of the triplets turned pale for an instant.

    Before long, Hivero shouted as if chewing and spitting out.

    "... ... joy! If so, ha, I''m not afraid at all!"

    "... ... I''m not afraid!"

    "... ... scared!"

    Thestment was off-putting.

    When Hivero and Mivero turned their heads, Lovero raised his hand and whimpered.

    "My finger was cut off!"

    The triplets'' conversation started to go awry.

    Seeing blood is familiar to the children of the Baskevilles.

    However, the story is a little different when it goes beyond blood, torn off flesh and broken bone fragments, even if all of that is your own.

    Like a trident, the guys who always moved together and in the same direction began to y separately.

    The eldest Hivero soothes the youngest Lovero.

    "calm down Bro. Let''s go to the infirmary and ask the priest to put a finger on us."

    "let''s do it."

    "Ooh ooh... ... okay. quickly!"

    Mivero carried Lovero.

    As Hivero quickly reached out and opened the door.

    "Who said you could go?"

    Vikir stood in front of him.

    Hivero''s expression twisted sternly.

    "You are... ... ."

    Of course, the distorted expression did not straighten out again.

    wagjak-

    Vikir''s fist flew in and shattered his nose and teeth.

    Hivero lying on the floor clutching his face.

    ... Pudeuk!

    Mivero, who was standing there with a dazed expression on his face, got his jaw turned by Vikir''s kick that immediately followed.

    "What!?"

    "Keuk-"

    "Sobbing... ... ."

    The triplets, all screaming, moaning, and crying with different sounds.

    Vikir sat quietly in front of the door and said.

    "You will be maimed for the rest of your life if we don''t get proper treatment within the next hour."

    "... ... ."

    "But looking at my older brothers, I don''t think I will be able to leave this room today."

    "... ... ."

    "When it rains and your teeth, chin, and fingers ache, always remember today."

    The triplets then red at Vikir as if to kill him.

    The cruel temper nurtured in the Baskevilles for the past nine years does not go anywhere.

    ''... ... But at least they are children.''

    Vikir smiled.

    There is no existence that does not listen to the passer.

    If there is a person who doesn''t listen to you even if you lose, you should think about whether you''re not a fan less.

    This was Hugo Baskeville''s view of childcare, and it is also the code of conduct for the entire Baskeville family.

    "Aww!"

    At least the eldest brother, Hivero, gathered his courage and attacked again.

    but.

    puck!

    Hivero''s dagger did not draw a single drop of blood, even though it was stabbed right into Vikir''s body.

    "... ... uh?"

    Hivero makes a nk expression.

    When the dagger touched Vikir''s chest, it seemed to be dyed ck, but he soon returned to his flesh color.

    The protection of the River Styx.

    Vikir''s body reached the state ofplete sword invulnerability at the age of only 8 years.

    Puck!

    Sound simr to when a dagger was inserted earlier.

    But the result ispletely different.

    Hivero sat down as he felt all his remaining teeth werepletely broken off.

    It happened in just two punches.

    walgrak... walgrak... Garr-

    The ttering sound of tears, mucus, saliva, blood, air bubbles and teeth mixing in the mouth.

    A dark shadow of Vikir is cast in front of the triplets who tremble as they held their injuries.

    ... ng!

    A dagger thrown into the middle of the triplets.

    But no one had any idea to figure it out.

    Instinctively, everyone knows.

    ''... ... If you catch that one, you will be beaten even more severely.''

    The triplets are on their knees on the floor, unable to even raise their heads, dripping blood, tears, saliva and cold sweat.

    All three of them had wet crotches, so it looked like they had lost their urine.

    at that time.

    Vikir said.

    "There is only one older brother who can leave this room alive."

    The expressions of the triplets who found a rope change rapidly.

    "who?"

    "who?"

    "who?"

    Vikir''s answer to that was simple.

    "It''s up to the brothers to decide."

    At the same time, the triplet''s gaze suddenly focused on the dagger in the center.

    ... Great!

    Baskerville''s trident began to split from within.

 Chapter 6: The Baskerville Dog (3)

    <h4>Chapter 6: The Baskerville Dog (3)</h4>

    John Barrymore.

    He is a butler who has been loyal to the Baskeville family for as many as four generations.

    "My lord. I will give you a daily report."

    And in front of Barrymore, a middle-aged man.

    A sharp nose bridge, a thick beard, and cold eyes.

    The Sword Master, the Sword Master, and the Seven Pirs of National Salvation.

    ''Hugo Le Baskevilles'', the most famous swordsman of Baskeville, was looking at Barrymore with an expressionless face.

    "This is the first report. Regarding the battle with the ''House of Morgue'' in the ruby mines of Red Cane Mountain... ... ."

    The Morgue family, famous for their magic, is one of the seven greatest families along with the Baskervilles.

    The Baskervilles were recently having a territorial dispute with the Morgue family, over the ruby mines in the west, which subtly straddled the ends of each other''s domains.

    Eventually, Hugo''s mouth opened.

    "We will have an opportunity to discuss that soon. Morgue wille first."

    Hugo''s folded his hands.

    Barrymore continued to report.

    Hugo looked mostly nonchnt, he listened to his report without much interest.

    asional frowning to express irritation was the only response.

    Advertisement

    At that time.

    There was a report that Hugo showed a change in expression for the first time.

    "... ... because Master Vikir is ranked number one in the handwriting of this midterm evaluation of early childhood."

    Hearing Barrymore''s words, Hugo gently stroked his chin.

    It was Hugo''s habit when he was satisfied, Barrymore knew this from experience.

    It''s rare for Hugo to remember the name of a child in the family, so Barrymore''s expression brightened too.

    Soon after, Hugo asked.

    "butler. When is the practical test for children?"

    "Not long. It starts in five days. Most of the Guardian Knights of Fang Castle have already gone on a trip to prepare."

    "Then the Fang castle must have been empty."

    At that, Barrymore''s expression lifted slightly.

    "Even so, the next news I want to report is about Fang Castle, Lord."

    "Did something happen?"

    "that... ... There are good things and there are bad things."

    "Listen to the good stuff first."

    When Hugo showed interest, Barrymore''s voice picked up a little more force.

    "It is said that there was a phenomenon where two suns rose in the sky above Fang Castle."

    "Two suns?"

    Hearing that, Hugo''s eyes widened slightly.

    The Baskervilles tend to believed in superstitions.

    "Is this an auspicious sign?"

    "First of all, since the sun has risen two times, isn''t it? There is also a rumor among the Gasols that a little sun was born to assist the children."

    "... ... Hmm. Couldn''t someone have been ying around with mana?"

    "At the time, all those skilled enough to y such pranks were on the trip to prepare for the practical exams for the youngsters."

    "Well, then that''s not a bad sign. Another sun."

    Hugo quietly nodded his head.

    Originally, the rising of two suns, namely Chae-un, has been considered an auspicious sign.

    "When such things appear clouds rise, good things always happen to the family. I don''t know what might happen in the Fang castle."

    Then Barrymore''s expression darkened.

    "That is... ... Something happened."

    "Is that the bad news I told you about? tell me."

    At Hugo''s words, Barrymore continued his report with a calmplexion.

    "There was a big fight between the young boys."

    At those words, Hugo''s expression changedpletely.

    "A big fight? How many died?"

    "... ... No one died, but Master Hivero''s teeth were all damaged, Master Mivero''s jawbone was caved in, and Master Lovero''s right index finger was amputated. Of course, now everyone has been treated and restored to his original health."

    "Then it''s a small quarrel. Siblings naturally grow up fighting each other."

    Hugo seemed relieved and leaned back in his chair.

    Then he murmured as he flipped through the reports on the triplets.

    "Since we''re the only ones that are close to each other, there''s no way we could have fought with each other, right?"

    "you''re right. There was friction with another young boy."

    "They are foolish. If the person is older than them, they would definitely be stronger. Even mere bastards will judge whether they are stronger or weaker before attacking you."

    Hugo clicked his tongue, and Barrymore corrected him.

    "That is... ... The boy who made them like that is younger."

    "what? He''s younger? So you''re saying the whole ss of 8-year-olds jumped on them?"

    "No. It is only one."

    At those words, Hugo''s eyes lit up again.

    And in Barrymore''s report that followed, they got even more excited.

    "The 1st ce in the written test I mentioned earlier, Master Vikir, was the perpetrator."

    Vikir van Baskeville. 8 years old this year.

    He received a call from the family head and headed for the family room that was hidden in the depths of the mansion.

    When he opened the door and came in, he could see therge stature of Hugo Le Baskevilles.

    "Sit down."

    Even though he didn''t show any particr aura, the momentum radiating from him was heavy.

    Vikir moved carefully so as not to reveal the mana hidden in his body.

    ''I''m confident in hiding mana.''

    The warriors who had passed through the confrontation with the demons and the long era of destruction were well versed in hiding their mana.

    The way topletely hide mana like this was unknown right now.

    It wasn''t a matter of strength, it was a matter of skill.

    But even that has some limits, and if you have a stronger mana here, you will inevitably stand out in Hugo''s eyes.

    ''I''ll have to find a way to show myself sooner orter.''

    Vikir sat down on the small chair in front of him, thinking about this and that.

    Hugo opened his mouth.

    "You''ve grown a lot while I couldn''t see you."

    Hearing this, Vikir was a little surprised.

    His voice, which was always forged like a de and seemed like it would be cut just by hearing it, is rather dull today.

    And the dialogue itself was also strange.

    ''Pigs are huge, but why do they always look so small and messy every time I see them?''

    Before returning, Hugo, used to say it all the time.

    While watching the growth of the livestock, he gave the gaze of an impatient butcher who couldn''t sell it quickly, but today he is sending a strangely warm gaze.

    It was as if he was expecting something.

    "Hello, Patriarch."

    Vikir greeted me brightly like a child.

    However, Hugo, who is called by the title of ''Patriarch'', found it odd.

    "My Patriarch? okay. Not even the head of the household."

    He thought about something for a while, then changed the topic as if it was over.

    He said, "I heard you crippled triplets in your senior ss of 9 years old."

    "I know that they received appropriate treatment afterwards."

    "I''m not talking about physical disabilities."

    Hugo frowned.

    "Isn''t their mind crippled?"

    "... ... ."

    "Since that day, I heard that they eat separately, sleep separately, and do not mix words properly. The three of them were excellent at teamwork passing the exam at the same time, but now they havepletely fallen apart."

    Would that be all? These days, all three of them were scared of Vikir.

    A dog that has lost its fighting spirit is useless in eternity.

    But Vikir didn''t bother to say that.

    But he''s just making a bold statement.

    "Wouldn''t it be heavy and useless to carry three sloppy swords at once? Rather than a master sword."

    Hugo''s eyes widen at those words.

    "... ... That''s right."

    He stroked his chin and looks down at the 8-year-old kid in front of him.

    If you look at it, the corners of his mouth tickle.

    "But don''t you think it was wrong to beat up his brothers?"

    At Hugo''s words, Vikir questioned incredulously.

    "Wrong? Why am I wrong?"

    "What? Didn''t you make your brothers a mess?"

    At Hugo''s question, Vikir tilted his head as if he couldn''t understand at all.

    "Why is that wrong? I am stronger"

    "... ... what?"

    Vikir drove the question back at Hugo, who had a nk expression.

    "How can a strong person do something wrong?"

    strong self-esteem. A world where weakness is sin.

    Wouldn''t that be Baskeville?

    yet.

    "... ... ."

    The corners of Hugo Le Baskeville''s mouth began to twitch.

    As he found the situation in front of him cute.

 Chapter 7: The Baskerville Dog (4)

    <h4>Chapter 7: The Baskerville Dog (4)</h4>

    Vikir knows Hugo''s personality well.

    ''... ... Lizard.''

    A cold-blooded human with blood so cold that he might be mistaken for a lizard.

    He was a being who was only interested in the future of his family and his own actions.

    He is a human who thought of everyone but himself as a tool, especially as a weapon.

    Weapons basically exist to harm others, and it is unimaginable that weapons independently show mercy or hesitate.

    It is also natural that the more weapons he nurtures, the better they would be at killing.

    So it was quite possible that Hugo''s gaze at Vikir was gradually coloured with satisfaction.

    "Do you think you are innocent?"

    "yes. Rather, my brothers were wrong."

    "What did they do wrong?"

    "They were weak."

    A world where weakness is sin.

    Wouldn''t that be Baskeville?

    Vikir''s words ran right through this core family motto of the Baskeville.

    It is not a sin for a lion to hunt a deer.

    It was the providence of nature that the strong win against the weak, and insisting that it should be divided into crime and punishment is just foolishness.

    It was Hugo''s teaching behind the tutors which stuck in his ears like nails during his childhood.

    ''... So the older brothers bullied me first! Even if I try to whine, it''s useless.''

    Before his return, Vikir exined his innocence and the sins of his brothers, as a normal child would usually do, but Hugo only expressed contempt.

    ... And those eyes were the same until thest moment when he knelt on the guillotine at the execution site.

    Meanwhile.

    Hugo Le Baskeville.

    He sped his hands together and covered his mouth.

    And he said in a low, subdued voice.

    "Your brothers were here before you."

    "... ... ."

    "They forgave you."

    Vikir didn''t bother to answer.

    You can tell that he has the experience of keeping Hugo''s side for a long time.

    Perhaps the triplets did not give Hugo an answer to their liking, and instead annoyed him.

    ''I must have been very intimidated. And what about forgiveness?''

    Vikir replied in an emotionless voice.

    "It''s okay if they are scared."

    "... ... ."

    Hugo paused for a moment.

    Finally, Hugo let out a faintugh.

    "ha. That''s right. When I wanted to the sessor, I had to work hard to be the sessor."

    It was quite an unfamiliar sight for Hugo to talk about himself.

    ''By the way, he had to be the sessor? Can he say that by just working hard?''

    Vikir, who was worried for a while at the first sound he heard, soon understood.

    Hugo had risen to the position of head of the household by killing all of his older brothers.

    ''Right. He only heard that the eldest son is unconditionally the one who inherit the family. Even the position of sucessor could be acquired.''

    It was the moment when he realized the true nature of the Baskevilles again.

    Hugo asked again.

    "Whatever. The older brothers reached out first to forgive you. Do you still not feel guilty?"

    "... ... ."

    Vikir looked at Hugo in silence for a moment.

    The warm eyes of his father, which he had never received in his previous life.

    However, the already salty and cold frozen heart can never be melted with such feeble warmth.

    ... When was it before returning?

    Thest daughter of a family destroyed by the Baskevilles once visited Hugo in person.

    After a long time, she became a nun and gave a Mass saying, "I forgive you."

    And Hugo, who heard the contents of the mass, said this.

    "Wouldn''t forgiveness be just an excuse for the weak who have no power to take revenge?"

    Excluding the honorifics, the lines are exactly the same as Hugo''s at the time.

    In an instant, Hugo''s eyes widened.

    "Hahahahahaha-"

    The sound ofughter so loud that the windows trembled resounded throughout the room.

    Hugo leaned back in his chair with a look of supreme satisfaction.

    "This is how my child should be."

    It was the first time Vikir had ever seen him express his emotions to this extent towards his son.

    The conversation with Hugo ended here.

    "Barrymore."

    Hugo, who had summoned the butler, his face returned to the stoic face he knew before.

    But the warmth of the embers still lingered in his voice.

    "Give Vikir the key to the food storage."

    Hearing this, Barrymore''s eyes widened.

    Children in the Baskevilles always eat the same food until they are 15 years old.

    water and Haggis.

    It is a dough made by mashing together the meat and intestines of all kinds of animals and a little bit of vegetables.

    The amount of food is provided in an unlimited amount and managed in a very hygienic manner, but was tasteless.

    So, the children of the Baskeville family are crazy about sweets and chocte that are sometimes given out when the children get good grades.

    It is a system that inspired children at a very low price, cultivate a sense ofpetition, and further develop them into great members of Baskeville.

    Knowing that, Hugo asked Vikir.

    "Do you have any snacks you want to eat?"

    Then Vikir answered with an innocent smile typical of an 8-year-old child.

    "Chocte!"

    Hugo looked at him and nodded his head.

    ''He must be thinking to the extent of ''I even have a cuteness suitable for my age''.''

    Barrymore also smiled.

    Hugo beckoned Barrymore.

    "Go to the food pantry and take out as much chocte as you want. But, don''t be too greedy. Just carry what you can."

    "Yes, my lord."

    Barrymore took Vikir''s hand and headed for the door.

    As they were leaving.

    Hugo spoke up, turning his back to the door.

    "Perform well at this midterm evaluation."

    It is unusual to receive such encouragement.

    But what followed was even more unusual.

    "... ... Don''t lose to direct descendants."

    At those words, Vikir''s eyes turned red.

    Like two suns.

    * * *

    "We greet, Master Vikir."

    Barrymore took Vikir to the kitchen outside the infant castle.

    A few chefs followed suit, politely greeting him.

    The food storage deep underground.

    The cold air blew through the cracks in the stones met with the warm air from outside creating a slight mist.

    Barrymore held up his hand to dissapating the mist inside of the warehouse.

    It''s just a matter of managing mana, but it''s not something that makes you feel embarrassed when the old butler did it.

    Vikir went inside.

    The food eaten by the guardian knights in the family, family members over the age of 15, and other servants was neatly arranged.

    "Candies and jellies are over here young master. If there is anything you would like to cook separately, I will ask the chefs to prepare it."

    At Barrymore''s kind invitation, Vikir shook his head.

    "Just chocte."

    At that, Barrymore looked down at Vikir with a slightly sorrowful look.

    How much chocte do you want to eat?

    "When you''re over 15, you''ll be able to eat as much as you want."

    It was a sincere advice.

    The chefs in the back took out the finest choctes from the shelf while paying attention to the butler.

    "This is the finest chocte that the women of the House of Morgue who are reputed to be gourmets enjoy eating. This time, we also got a few cans from our side. It is said that the vor bes more intense if you add nuts from the south and honey from the west."

    But Vikir shook his head.

    "I don''t need anything processed."

    "... ... yes?"

    Barrymore and the chefs looked puzzled, Vikir opened his mouth.

    "I need coca beans. The type with a very strong vor."

    Hearing that, Barrymore tilted her head.

    The raw material of chocte is coca beans.

    However, unprocessed coca beans are bitter rather than sweet.

    After hearing the chefs'' report, Barrymore spoke up.

    "Ugh. If it''s beans with a strong vor... ... It is said that there is. In the past, the family lord personally led the senators in the family to subdue the barbarians on the western front of the territory and cultivated the vast jungles of the area as farnd. It is said that one grain of ''Bloody Bean'', a local specialty, can make 100 liters of chocte."

    "Good. bring it."

    "How much should I bring?"

    "As it is."

    At Vikir''smand, the chefs moved.

    Before long, one of the chefs came with a small leather pouch in his hand.

    The pouch, barely big enough for two fists, was filled with bright red beans.

    It looks like more than 100 grains.

    This is Bloody Bean. One bean has a consistencyparable to 100 liters of chocte.

    Vikir tried chewing a bean.

    ... Knock it!

    Reactiones right in the mouth.

    It was astringent and bitter enough to tingle your entire tongue.

    Vikir spat out the peas and nodded in satisfaction.

    Barrymore nodded his head.

    ''You really like chocte.''

    Anyway, Hugo told Vikir to give him as much food as he wanted, so it wouldn''t be a problem even if he took all these cocoa beans.

    However, this single cacao bean is the amount that can produce 10,000 liters of chocte.

    Barrymore admired the 8-year-old''s greed and wisdom.

    Maybe Vikir will gorge on his favorite chocte for the rest of his life.

    "young master. Shall I process this and bring it to your room?"

    ... however.

    Vikir gave an answer that made everyone wonder.

    "No processing required. This is enough."

    Apparently, he didn''t want it for eating.

 Chapter 8: Hounds of Hell (1)

    <h4>Chapter 8: Hounds of Hell (1)</h4>

    Children in the Baskervilles are tested twice a year, midterm and final assessments, until they are 15 years old.

    In order to get rid of the stigma of being a family of berserkers, I tend to make the usual liberal arts sses hard... ... In the first ce, the reason why they are called the berserker family is because of the practical test that is so difficult that it is murderous.

    It was not something young children who had just turned 8 or 9 should go through.

    The children of the Baskervilles receive a rigorous education.

    From the point of being able to walk on two feet, in order to cultivate basic physical strength, it is made to run continuously on a wide gym and steep hills.

    You cannot even lie down outside the designated time.

    The Guardian Knights be instructors and polish them like crazy.

    During breaks, they ys with a rubber knife, and when they sleep, it is often beside the corpses ofrge monsters or small monters.

    To get them ustomed to the hideous appearance of their prey and their savage ferocity.

    And from the age of 8, real training begins.

    Meals changed.

    In the broth made from boiling chicken bones, various types of fish, which are full of meat, are beaten and boiled until they turn into mush.

    Then put it in a tough intestine and boiled again to remove thest bit of fat.

    Haggis, which is a regr meal, is eaten right at this stage.

    Here, it is salted for storage, and after a long time, it is dried hard and hardened jerky ispleted, which is the preserved food that the children of the Baskerville family always carry with them.

    Today, children aged 8 or 9 from the Baskervilles were sent to the mountains outside the manor with sacks of these beef jerky.

    ''Le Rouge'' mountain.

    This is an alpine area with a harsh environment where only a few vicious monsters can live.

    The young hounds of the Baskervilles are thrown here and have to survive for about a month.

    Of course, they live only within the restricted area, and at the boundary of the restricted area, guardian knights within the family, called ''hounds'', are there to keep the dangers controlled.

    The tasks of children abandoned in an unfamiliar environment are as follows.

    ''Survival'', ''If possible, hunt big and strong monsters''.

    The original task was simply to ''survive'', but the current owner, Hugo Les Baskervilles, said that this task was too easy and added another task.

    Sometimes, among the children of the Baskerville family, there were those who would lock themselves in safe caves or tunnels and survive by eating only beef jerky.

    ''A child who bravely fought against monsters and survived shouldn''t get the same evaluation as a child who stayed in a hole like a coward and only ate food.''

    This was Hugo''s idea.

    -If you managed to save your life, 10 points.

    �C If you managed to save your life without being crippled, 30 points.

    -50 points if you drop other children and survive.

    -70 points if you catch the monster and survive.

    -90 points if you managed to save your life without being crippled despite dropping other children or surviving by catching monsters.

    There is no 100 points.

    A swordsman dies the moment he bes conceited.

    That were Hugo''s instructions.

    ... Of course, if you die in any situation, you get 0 points.

    Of all deaths, dying like a dog is a shame in itself.

    Eight-year-old Vikir arrived here today in Le Rogue Mountain.

    When you get off the wagon, you can see piles of reddish dirt.

    ck ants swarmed on the parched mound.

    A dry wind blows through the burnt old trees.

    All I see is dark red hue.

    The Guardian Knights spoke up.

    "You have been handed out badges. As soon as you leave this ce, you can steal each other''s badges. If you steal the other person''s badge, you get extra points."

    "Even if you hunt monsters, bonus points are given. However, points are deducted if you are fatally injured. In case of death, all points are lost. Well, at the time of death, the score is already not a problem."

    "We do not rmend going outside the restricted area. You must only move within the space we have patroled over the past few days. This is because there are still many unknown areas in Le Rogue Mountain."

    The Guardian Knights exined other intricate rules.

    But to Vikir, it''s just annoying nagging.

    ''It''s been a while since I''ve seen you.''

    He, too, has often been to Le Rogue Mountain.

    As a student in his childhood and as an instructor in his old age, it was a ce he frequently visited were Le Rogue mountains.

    It was a strange and scary ce when he was a student, but when he came as an instructor... ... .

    ''It''s became even more scary and unfamiliar ce.''

    Because he had to search outside of hisfort zone.

    The area where the children of the Baskerville family survive is actually more like a cozy cradle.

    The real danger is the area outside the boundary guarded by the Guardian Knight instructors.

    [forbidden zone].

    Outside the ridge called ''Cradle'', and beyond a few mountain ranges, powerful monsters and barbarians swarm.

    Since the Baskervilles dered this ce as their territory, they have steadily pioneered the enemy and beyond the Mountains.

    It was also because there was an order from the emperor.

    The expansion of the territory of the Baskerville family was the expansion of the territory of the empire, and for this, various tax benefits and autonomy of military facilities were guaranteed.

    Before his regression. Vikir also spent a very long time here in the Le Rogue mountains, passing through his days as an examinee, his days as an instructor, and his days as a hunting dog.

    So the environment here was very familiar.

    Not to mention it was not in the ''Undiscovered Zone'' beyond the ridge, nor in the ''Cradle''.

    ... but. Most children seem to feel unfamiliarity and fear in the environment they are seeing for the first time.

    The dry, crumbling dirt cliffs, the pungent wind blowing from the burned forest, the dry ashes, the unpleasant eyes and cries that can be felt from somewhere.

    "... Ugh, this is the first time I''ve ever been in such a bad weather."

    "It has be more barren than when I camest year."

    "You want me to stay here for a month!?"

    8-year-olds cried.

    The 9-year-olds were pretending to be indifferent, but their expressions are not good, perhaps because of bad memories fromst year.

    In fact, this test is a battle between 8-year-olds who want to keep the badge and 9-year-olds who want to steal it.

    For today''s 8-year-olds, who will turn 9 next year, this experience will be very important.

    And in this situation, 8-year-old Vikir stoods still, waiting for the bell to signal the start of his exam.

    Nearby, 9-year-old children aiming for Vikir''s badge wereughing sinisterly.

    "Is that him? He took a seven-minute dive in the River Styx."

    "Does that make sense? Well, rumor has it that he strangled two poisonous snakes while he was in the cradle."

    "You say that the guy with the perfect writing score? Let''s see if he can do well."

    A buzzing sound all around.

    But there is one strange thing.

    "... ... ."

    "... ... ."

    "... ... ."

    The three strongest and fiercest 9-year-olds in the ss, Hivero, Mivero, and Lovero, are somehow silent.

    The other 9-year-olds just tilted their heads as they were always eager to show Vikir a lesson.

    Soon, some of the children who were noticing came forward and began to quarrel with Vikir.

    "You cheeky bastard. As soon as the practical evaluation begins, I will beat you to death."

    "A guy who isn''t so great gets smug."

    "You''re going to feel like hell here for the next month."

    Then Vikir finally responded.

    "I don''t think I''m great."

    Unexpected humility makes 9-year-old children look puzzled.

    However, Vikir''s words soon made the guys'' faces frown.

    "... ... You guys are just too weak."

    Immediately after that, fresh curse words flew in and stuck.

    "You, you, I''m the real best here!"

    "Come to the ce where the old tree ister in the evening, you son of a bitch!"

    "Get out of the way! I''ll beat that bastard! Even if he dies, I won''t stop!"

    The children of the Baskervilles are easily drawn into even low-level provocations.

    One-day puppies that hadn''t even seen death were baring their fangs that weren''t ripe yet.

    As an old dog who has gone through all of the deadly battles, he didn''t even smile.

    Right then.

    Ding-

    Pavlov van Baskerville, a guardian knight and instructor in charge of the "Head Hound" rang the bell.

    The practical test has begun.

 Chapter 9: Hounds of Hell (2)

    <h4>Chapter 9: Hounds of Hell (2)</h4>

    In the Baskevilles, practical tests are frequent, several times a day.

    Most of the brothers fight each other to determine superiority in strength, but most of the start of the fight is announced with this species.

    Ding-

    The young hounds of the Baskevilles, who were nervous in the unfamiliar environment, immediately came to their senses at the sound of a familiar bell.

    And as it has been learned in the meantime, it was an instinct.

    A young Baskeville from the nine-year-old ss quickly ran across the wastnd.

    He was the guy who benefited quite a bitst year by upying the advantageous terrain first.

    But he was intelligent enough to rememberst year''s points, but he was not intelligent enough to keep his eyes on him.

    The quick-witted 8-year-olds chased after him.

    They didn''t know what it was?, but they ned to stop him from doing what he wanted.

    Smarter kids pretended that they knew something.

    And lure others into dangerous pits or swamps and get rid of annoying flying flies all at once.

    The triplets, Hivero, Mivero, and Lovero, were such cunning guys.

    "Go there."

    "Don''t tell me what to do."

    "I teling you because you can''t do shit on your own."

    9-year-olds who are already showing their prominence. By the way, these guys used a simr methodsst year to eliminate a lot of upperssmen.

    Within hours of the bell ringing, dropouts began to appear one after another.

    From shock and fainting, from rolling down a steep slope, or from falling into a swamp, from being stabbed or cut.

    The reasons were varied, but the root cause was one.

    It was at the hands of other brothers.

    ... kang!

    You can also hear the sound of metal pieces colliding with each other throughout the forest.

    As soon as thepetition began, the children of the Baskevilles were fighting each other with Blunt swords were given to them.

    A dull knife so that it cannot be used to kill.

    Killing opponents is not encouraged in this tournament.

    It is not prohibited, but it stops at a level that is not rmended.

    If you kill someone, points are deducted... ... This score range was quiterge, so the children did their best not to kill the other person ''by hand'' if possible.

    Of course, it doesn''t matter if your skills are good enough to take a deduction and you have umted enough points, or if you can kill your opponent secretly enough to be unnoticed by the leader dogs.

    Well, even though the guardian knights who act as guide dogs keep their eyes open 24 hours a day, mysterious deaths and idental deaths ur frequently during the practical evaluation, so this opportunity may be used to eliminate a rival or a guy you hated.

    ... but.

    There was no Vikir in this fiercepetition.

    Vikir acted like he had no interest in scoring from the start.

    All he did was, as soon as the bell struck, to move swiftly out of the reservation and settle down in the wastnd outside the boundary bordering the bodering Zone.

    ''... Was it here?''

    Vikir was reminiscing about his days as a student before returning and his days as an instructor.

    If you go straight this way, there is a wastnd that is narrowly inside the border area.

    There, an old dead tree stood tall, but the roots that extend deep into the ground were soft and rotten, so the whole ground is soft.

    Before long, Vikir found thend he was aiming for.

    Unlike other ces, the soil there is exceptionally reddish.

    Vikir broke a branch and began digging and poking the ground.

    While the other brothers fought in the distance, winning and losing points, Vikir silently dug the ground.

    The guide dog guardians kept observing Vikir while hiding in a secret ce.

    However, even after several days, Vikir continued to be seen digging a pit.

    ''Looks like he''s just hiding there to kill time.''

    ''It''s a little disappointing?''

    ''There''s no need to keep watching.''

    Since he was a Vikir who had been prominent since his childhood, the Guardian Knights had high hopes for him, but this was quite disappointing.

    Digging and hiding in pits was typical behavior of cowards, low-ranking and insignificant children.

    In the end, the Guardian Knights who couldn''t keep an eye on him began to take their eyes off Vikir one by one.

    ... but.

    One still didn''t pay attention to the fights between the children.

    Just how deep the 8-year-old Vikir digs the pit and what he does in it.

    * * *

    "This ce is still like a cradle."

    Vikir.

    He was sitting at the bottom of the pit and having a good time.

    Le Rogue Mountain, was such afortable and cozy ce for him.

    Outside, the Guardian Knights stood guard instead, andpetitors did note to check on him.

    When he was thirsty, he would collect dew that formed overnight on arge leaf hanging in the pit, and if he was hungry, he would catch a passing snake or mole and roast it.

    Rather, they were much better than the food thates out as a school lunch.

    Even the bed that he made myself was better.

    The beds for kids were made of monster skins or thorns, so they were very hard and rough.

    But here in the pit, well-dried straw, sawdust, and burnt ashes are softlyid out, so it''s very warm andfortable.

    Vikir closed his eyes for a moment while roasting a rat he had caught the night before.

    <The rat ''Norvegicus''>

    Hazard ss: F

    Size: 50cm

    Found in: all continents

    �C A mouse that has been stricken with demonic energy.

    A adult Norvegicus has the intelligence and size of a small dog, so it is an object of disgust for women and girls.

    After cleaning, it is surprisingly edible if you cook it well over a fire or boil it well in water.

    When ites to information about monsters, no matter how low they are, Vikir clearly memorized them all.

    It was thanks to the monster encyclopedia that he had before returning.

    Of course, Vikir wasn''t the only one who memorized all the monster books in the world before returning.

    In the Age of Destruction, everyone was a hunter.

    ''... ... But now I''m the only hunter alive.''

    Maybe it''s a situation closer to the hounds than the hunters.

    But that would only make the hunter more miserable.

    "What could be more ironic than a hunter who dies from being bitten on the neck by his dog?"

    Suddenly, I recall the conversation I had with Hugo before returning.

    This happened shortly before being executed.

    ''When you train a dog, you have to risk dying. Usually two out of three die. Do you think it''s heartless?''

    ''no.''

    ''Of course not. Because the owner also trains with the preparedness to die from being bitten by a dog. Owners should always be trained. You never know when you''ll die from being bitten by blind teeth.''

    It was a fact that Hugo himself was aware of.

    Maybe that''s why Hugo didn''t trust anyone in this world. Even himself.

    "... ... ."

    Vikir shook his head to clear his thoughts.

    Then he took one of his peas from a sack hanging from his waist.

    Blood Bean. Dark red bean with a huge coca concentration.

    Vikir tossed a pea into the fire.

    The stinky and other odors are removed from the plump fat rat meat, and reced with the faint scent of coca.

    ''Cacao beans, especially bloody beans, are the best for removing odor!''

    It was a recipe he learned from ate sergeant in the same toon when he was drafted into the war against the demons.

    "... ... Camping makes me think a lot about the past."

    Vikir looked around him.

    All the eyes that had been watching him were now gone.

    Perhaps the guide dogs, who found his behavior uninteresting, moved elsewhere.

    ... If so, now is the time.

    Vikir reached out to the pile of firewood.

    Then he took out a dagger from his waistband and started cutting down trees.

    wooden spear.

    Vikir began nting these pointed wooden spears upside down all over the pit floor.

    The tips trying to pierce the sky.

    Dozens or hundreds of them are embedded in the bottom of the pit.

    Like the lower jaw of a beast.

    Even Vikir himself hadn''t thought about what these teeth would bite into.

    Outside the boundary between the Le Rogue Mountains, in the Forbidden Zone, there are monsters that are so big and powerful that people in this world couldn''t even imagine.

    ... Well, most of them were familiar to Vikir who had passed through the age of destruction.

    Vikir had cut all the wood that he needed.

    But it wasn''t enough to sharpen a wooden spear or toss it into a bonfire.

    Vikir moved his body out of the pit to fetch the wood.

    The gaze of the Guardian Knights had also disappeared, so now you can cross over to the forbiddennd and cut down trees.

    Before long, Vikir crossed the border with a stealthy spirit and entered the forbidden zone.

    * * *

    The sea of ckened trees is incredibly dense.

    The stems and roots that grew into a hugebyrinth.

    If you looked around the dark caves poking through the roots of trees that had been burned by the forest fire, you might doubt that they are passages leading to hell.

    Any normal young hound of the Baskervilles would avoid this gloomy ce, but Vikir rather walked in on his own feet.

    ''Let''s see. I guess this was the rough habitat?''

    Vikir wandered through the forest for a long time.

    When he was an instructor or skirmisher, he roamed around this ce as if he were eating, so his eyes were clear as if he was going in and out of his house.

    yet.

    Vikir found something.

    Sizzle sizzle... ...

    It''s the sound of a ember burning in the ashes.

    After following the smell of something burning, he finally found what he was looking for.

    It was a pile of shit.

    A fire that has not yet been extinguished burns in the ckened pile of dung.

    As far as Vikir knews, there is only one monster that was like this.

    He lifted his head and walked a little further through the trees, and before long he saw the owner of the dung.

    Arge body, sharp teeth and ws, and two eyes that glowed yellow.

    <Hell Hound>

    Grade: B+

    Size: 3m

    Discovery Location: Le Rogue Mountains Part 2 Ridge

    -Aka ''the dog from hell''.

    It is a being that unconditionally brings a terrible disaster to those it encounters, and if it is bitten once, it can never survive.

    The brimstone fire spewing out from the eyes and mouthes from the embers of the depths of the hell, and does not go out until the life used as fuel ispletely burned away.

    Even in the encyclopedia, there was not much information about this dangerous monster.

    However, Vikir has faced quite a few monsters of this type through the age of destruction.

    "Finally found you."

    The reason he came to Le Rogue Mountain is to meet these guys.

    Vikir turned quickly.

    As soon as the Hellhound saw Vikir, it rushed at him.

    kong! kong! kong!

    The roar of a hound pursuing closely behind.

    As soon as he got out of the way, he threw himself to the side of the hellhound ran past.

    Chow ah-

    Hellhound took several steps, unable to stop.

    "As expected, you''re an idiot who only knows how to go straight."

    Most beings who have climbed up from hell can do nothing but go straight.

    Even elite monsters like Hellhound show weakness.

    Grrrrr... ...

    The hellhound turned around and started pursuing him.

    Vikir prepared the following pattern.

    Chow ah-

    Drinking water made by collecting two days of dew was sprayed and drew a long line on the floor.

    ... flinch!

    Hellhound came to a sudden stop with the same momentum as it was running.

    This hellhound species unusually did not cross water.

    No matter how thin and shallow the water is.

    Since it is a monster that is not good at anything other than running in a straight line, it is a hellhound had to run around water spots scattered on the ground.

    It is a fact known to all hunters who have passed through the era of distruction, but it is a habit that is not well known in this world yet due tock of research.

    ''Well, it will inevitablye to lightter when the Pandemonium Gate opens and Hellhounds swarm all over the continent.''

    Vikir faced the hellhound.

    Although the speed of the Hellhound running had decreased, it is still terrifying.

    Hey, the hellhound is a monster that even knights of expert intermediate level or higher have a hard time with 1:1.

    Vikir before returning is also a monster so powerful that he was able to catch it alone only when he was 18 years old.

    but.

    Vikir did note all this way without taking any measures.

    "Canine monsters always open their mouths when running."

    Like a seasoned hunter who has lived through the era of destruction, he brought out a secret weapon prepared for this situation.

    The most effective weapon for catching canine monsters.

    ... fing!

    The sound of beans hitting each other in his hands.

    Bloody Beans.

    It was chocte.

 Chapter 10: Hounds of Hell (3)

    <h4>Chapter 10: Hounds of Hell (3)</h4>

    Vikir recalled.

    It was just a few days ago.

    Something simr to the award Hugo Baskeville gave in the name of getting first ce in the written exam.

    ''Do you have any snacks you want to eat?''

    ''Chocte!''

    ''Go to the food storage and take out as much as you wants. But, don''t be too greedy. Just what you can carry.''

    At that time, Vikir had been handed over the key to the food warehouse.

    In the cer following Barrymore, Vikir obtained a bag of chocte beans.

    ''In the past, the Lord personally led knights to subjugate the savages on the western front and reimed the vast jungles of the area as farnd. It is said that one grain of ''bloody bean'', can make 100 liters of chocte.''

    Bloody Bean. A magical bean that boasts a rich vor that one bean can make 100 liters of chocte.

    Vikir took out a single bloody bean from the sack he was wearing around his waist.

    And he looked at the hellhound, which had been very slow while going around the water, and was now rushing towards him.

    The way it was rushing towards him with its mouth wide open is as if asking for something to be thrown into its mouth.

    In the eyes of Vikir, it looked like that.

    ... fick!

    Vikir flicked with a bean into the hellhound''s mouth.

    And the effects were immediate.

    ... Yelp!

    A hellhound swallowed something that flew into its mouth.

    The guy started to stagger.

    [Cahang! Crack! Yep!]

    Its mouth started frothing, and sticky mucous vomit trickled down.

    It started convulsing.

    It heart beat quickened as if it were going to burst, and it started bleed ing from the eyes.

    ''As expected.''

    Vikir nodded his head.

    it was a fact known to all hunters who had gone through the era of destruction.

    That is the fact that canine monsters are weak to chocte.

    The substances like chocte beans are like poison to dogs.

    Even if it was a hound from hell, this was simr.

    "Let''s see. Vomiting of mucus, difficulty breathing, incontinence, diarrhea, increased body temperature, increased heart rate, loss of appetite, convulsions, seizures, severe agitation... ... And then death?"

    Vikir grabbed a blunt shortsword.

    Then, he walked after the hellhound as it staggered away into the depths of the forest.

    "The blow to the stomach and heart must havee first. The liver is next."

    However, a hellhound''s stomach, heart and liver were protected by ribs that are harder than steel.

    And Vikir couldn''t squeeze through the gaps with the blunt shortsword he currently had.

    In that case, it is best to aim for a ce that is slightly off the ribs and still weakened by the chocte.

    "... ... The answer is height."

    The lower abdomen, which the hellhound''s ribs can''t cover, and the kidneys, which are overworked by the toxin from the chocte.

    Vikirid his shortsword and stabbed it hard.

    His de was blunt, so he couldn''t cut or prate, but it was enough to damage the muscle, and kidneys beneath.

    [Kang!...]

    The more the shockes tothe kidney, the weaker the kidney and the stronger the toxins.

    The hellhound dropped on the floor, slowly died

    Vikir cut off thest breath of the hellhound, which had be irresistible.

    Hellhounds are monsters of the canine family, and at the same time, they are monsters of the hell who roam around with the hellfire swallowed in their stomachs.

    If you don''t kill it, you won''t know when it will be a threat again, like an ember reviving from the ashes.

    "I''ll have to take care of it."

    Vikir raised his shortsword andpletely extinguished the hellhound''sst spark of life.

    puck! puck! puck! Wow!

    With his blunt shortsword, there was no answer other than to beat it.

    yet.

    An amazing thing happened.

    Tsutsutsutsutsu... ...

    When the hellhound died, an intangible aura escaped from its corpse and settled into Vikir''s body.

    What many people call "experience," "effort," or "karma," "karma."

    When this mysterious and magical energy obtained by killing monsters umtes in the body, it leads to strengthening of the body.

    Vikir single-handedly defeated a high-ranking monster that children of her age could not dare imagine, and as a result, his body became even more powerful.

    In addition to the blessing of the Styx River, the experience gained from killing a hellhound was added.

    Vikir''s body is now impervious to any amount of poison, magic, or other physical force.

    "... ... hmm. Are my bones thicker now? I also seem to have grown taller."

    The shortsword in my hand became much lighter than before.

    Since the weight of the sword could not suddenly decrease, it must be said that the strength of the grip has increased.

    boom- boom-

    No other 8-9 year olds handle the knife as if wielding it with one hand, which is difficult to wield even with both hands.

    However, there is still a long way to go before he regains his former strength.

    ''At this pace, I''ll be able to recover all my strength before theing-of-age ceremony.''

    Vikir is only 8 years old now. The level is Advanced Sword Expert.

    The other Baskerville would only reach it after theing-of-age ceremony.

    After the next seven years, he was more than confident enough to regain the power of his previous life.

    ''Right now, if I get first ce in the practical test, since there''s a reward.''

    Vikir looked down at the hellhound''s corpse with a satisfied expression.

    If the corpse of this monster, which is still hot, is brought to the family, it is a matter of course that it won first ce in the practical evaluation.

    Going out of the boundary area could be a bit of a problem, but it''s a rebuke to the guardian knights in charge and rather praise from the examinee''s point of view.

    An 8-year-old kid went out of the border area that even knights struggle with, and went to the forbidden zone to catch a dangerous grade B+ monster, and that alone!

    He could already picture Hugo''s expression.

    ... hung!

    Vikir grabbed the hellhound by the tail and began to drag it away.

    The corpse of a monster is subject to gravity and differentws from the human world because its soul is held in the demon realm.

    Because of that, Hellhound''s corpse was much heavier than it seemed, but Vikir''s strength was different from that of a normal 8-year-old, so it didn''t matter.

    Deodeuk-deuk-woodeuk!

    Vikir continued to move forward.

    It was an uphill road back.

    Now to go back and submit Hellhound''s corpse to the Guardian Knights.

    And when he thought of the reward, a smile formed on Vikir''s lips.

    Vikir was waiting for a huge reward that he would never have dared to dream of in his lifetime, a treasure that no one even knows the real value of in this day and age.

    ... at that time.

    Vikir stopped looking around.

    Grrrrr... ...

    The cries that flowed from the depths of the sea behind them.

    The howling from deep in the throat is getting closer.

    "... ... Oops."

    Vikir put down the hellhound''s corpse for a moment.

    I forgot.

    Hellhounds are monsters that live in packs.

    Yet.

    Fires began to burn in the darkness of the sea of trees.

    Eleven Hellhounds came and surrounded Vikir.

    however.

    "... ... ."

    Vikir just grinned, unfazed in the slightest.

    Rather, the hellhounds who faced that smile just shrank their bodies low and growled as if they were anxious.

    Do they recognize the danger?

    It seems that even those who passed through the era of destruction and passed through another round of reincarnation could not wash away the smell of blood that was deeply embedded in their souls.

    Just like Bloody Mamba, the venomous snake who froze at the sight of Vikir in the cradle, it seems that the enemy and the Hellhounds of ck Mountain did not dare to act carelessly in front of Vikir, who reveals his life in earnest.

    Before long, Vikir opened his mouth.

    "Come on guys. There are still a lot of beans left."

    Bloody bean beans rattle at the waist.

    Considering the body that became stronger after catching one hellhound, the growth rate when he could kill the hellhounds gathered here... he couldn''t even guess.

    When the Vikir and the hellhounds were in such a tense confrontation.

    I''m sorry... ...

    The ferocious hellhounds suddenly curled their tails between their crotches and began to withdraw.

    "... ... ?"

    Vikir was a little surprised.

    A hellhound that once bares its teeth will never show its back.

    But now, the hellhounds were running away in fear.

    No matter how heinous the killing intent that Vikir spewed out was, he still had the body of an 8-year-old child, so it wasn''t enough to deal with all of them.

    What then?

    What external factors could cause these hellhounds to run away with their tails down?

    Eventually, Vikir soon learned what it was.

    Grrrrr... ...

    The sound of spit and brimstone boiling.

    The owner of this growl who made all hellhounds scared.

    Six eyes burning in the dark.

    Three heads poking out of the root hole of the sea.

    "... Did something like this live here?"

    A top-notch monster that makes even surprised him.

    <Cerberus>

    Risk level: A+

    Size: 7m

    Discovery Location: Red and ck Mountains 7th

    ridge

    -Aka "Hell''s Guard Dog"

    It was not interested in the ghosts who went to hell, but the ghosts who wanted to get out of hell are immediately torn to pieces by it.

    It lives deep in hell, where all the evil ghosts finally head, and leads to the ultimate of monsters of the canine species.

    The three-headed dog, which symbolizes hell itself, appeared.

 Chapter 11: Hounds of Hell (4)

    <h4>Chapter 11: Hounds of Hell (4)</h4>

    An unpleasant growl that might be heard when metal pieces rub against each other.

    <Cerberus>

    Risk level: A+

    Size: 7m

    Discovery Location: Red and ck Mountains 7th ridge

    -Aka "Hell''s Guard Dog"

    It is not interested in the ghosts who want to enter hell, but the ghosts who wanted to get out of hell are immediately torn to pieces and made into rags.

    It lives in the depths of hell, where all the ghosts finally head, and leads to the ultimate of monsters of the Canine species.

    This monster that spewed gas, oil, and mes from deep inside its three throats is Cerberus, the guardian dog of hell.

    Even for a seasoned hunter Vikir was a super-elite monster that he had only seen once from a distance before returning.

    One day, the gate to the demon world suddenly opened, and demons would explode from all over the ce.

    On the day that announced the beginning of a long disaster, warriors selected from the family died by more than three digits to this Cerberus who was rampaging at the forefront.

    Because it was the beginning of the war when everyone was clumsy, the damage was even more severe.

    The damage would have been out of control had it not been for the youngest female head of the House of Morgue at the time, Empress Dowager Morgue Camus.

    And now, that same Cerberus appeared before Vikir''s eyes.

    "... ... ."

    Even in the face of this mighty monster, which would be useless even if a hundred hellhounds attacked at once, Vikire remained calm.

    "Right. Has Cerberus already crossed over? Why did a guy who only lived around the 7th ridgee all the way here?"

    As the saying goes, the area where Cerberus was first discovered was the hignds of the Red and ck Mountains.

    But now, Cerberus is down to the londs of the first part of the ridge here.

    I don''t know what brought him here... ... .

    [Kreureung!]

    It was a pretty embarrassing situation for Vikir.

    "I can''t help it."

    Vikir decided to flip all of his hidden paddles.

    There is no room to hide his pre-return skills.

    Fortunately, I had crossed the border quite a bit, so I didn''t feel any stares around me.

    He doesn''t even have Young Do Dog Guardian Knights, so he doesn''t even have to fight while hiding his skills.

    ... sh!

    Vikir took out his shortsword and blew mana into it.

    At the tip of his sword, a gaseous aura that can only be created by those who have reached the advanced level of Sword Expert overflows.

    Low Expert = Wizard Circle 1

    Expert Intermediate = Wizard 2nd Circle

    Advanced Expert = Mage 3rd Circle

    Lower Grader = Wizard 4th Circle

    Graduate Intermediate = Wizard 5th Circle

    Advanced Graduate = Wizard Circle 6

    Sword Master = Wizard 7th Circle

    This is the general martialw form.

    What burns at the tip of 8-year-old Vikir''s sword is a dense gaseous aura that seems to turn into liquid at any moment.

    It symbolizes an expert advanced level, and it is a skill that corresponds to a whopping 3rd ss in terms of magicians.

    Before he returned, he was about 20 years old.

    Vikir raised his mana and quickly moved his hand.

    The shortsword moves while drawing strange scars in the air.

    A trajectory shaped like a sharp tooth, it looked as if three teeth had been summoned in the air.

    Baskerville Type 3. A swordsmanship in which three teeth are drawn with a sword and driven into the opponent''s neck.

    Vikir in his previous life had mastered this Baskerville form up to the 4th form, and was originally able to create four teeth.

    On top of that, he had even the mana and aura of a high-level Duator, so if youpare then and now, the level is shabby.

    But Vikir has another weapon.

    His small body and quick mobility, as well as his body hardened by the blessing of the River Styx, are just that.

    The pros are clear and the cons are clear.

    Vikir swung his sword and created three teeth.

    The child''s hands and arms were small and short, so he couldn''t create the ''fourth tooth'', which was an organ in his previous life, but nevertheless, the gaseous aura and three teeth clearly extending from the tip of his sword were able to block Cerberus'' ws well.

    "... ... ?"

    Vikir felt something strange.

    It is Cerberus that was too daunting even with the strength before the return, but is it possible to be an opponent with the body of an infant who is far behind the inaction at that time?

    This means that something is wrong on the Cerberus side as well.

    indeed.

    "... ... !"

    Vikir''s keen eye caught something.

    If you look closely at the inside of Cerberus'' side, you can see a dent.

    His movements were a little unnatural, so it was clear that he had several broken ribs.

    Even in the area where the fur was torn off, clear arrowhead marks were engraved.

    "Who caught it?"

    Vikirughed incredulously.

    Come to think of it, barbarians live on the other side of the red and ck mountains.

    In the meantime, the barbaric tribes that the iron-blooded swordsman Baskerville and the prestigious mage have been harassing Morgue.

    If he was driven to this ce by the backslidings of barbarians, it seems that Cerberus'' situation is not very good.

    earth! Daang! Kang!

    Vikir gathered the aura that was scattered like a gas and continued to block Cerberus'' ws and teeth.

    Every time the sword and teeth shed, there was a sound of iron and bronze shing, and sparks flew.

    [Kreureung! kong! damn!]

    Cerberus tries to bite Vikir by moving his three heads, but fails every time.

    "I''m kind of used to fighting triplets."

    not that it isn''t It is true that the three twins Hivero, Middlebro, and Lowbro''s swordsmanship and trident tactics were inspired by Cerberus'' fighting style.

    I''m used to it because I was terribly bullied by the triplets during numerous performance evaluations in my previous life.

    Most of the numerous anomalous patterns were familiar.

    The triplets in the previous life were skilled and smart, so they learned Cerberus'' attack patterns as if they were born with them, and Vikir is reminiscing about those days and dealing with Cerberus.

    Booung!

    Baskerville Type 1, sharp teeth bounce off Cerberus'' teeth.

    kang!

    Baskerville Type 2, second tooth half lodged in Cerberus'' neck.

    ... Fu-wook!

    Baskerville Type 3, the third tooth strikes the second, driving it even deeper into Cerberus'' neck.

    Vikir''s Baskerville ceremony was clearly simr to the normal Baskerville ceremony, but was subtly different.

    The swordsmen who have passed through the age of destruction have something that the swordsmen of the previous era cannot copy.

    Existing swordsmanship theories of the peaceful era werepletely reinterpreted through the era of destruction, and unnecessary b, fat, and grease were drained to the limit.

    A sword that only moves to kill its opponent.

    Here, extreme practical experience was added.

    To put it in an analogy, the swordsmanship of the general world is like beef with good marbling, the swordsmanship of the Baskerville family is tough chicken breast, and the current swordsmanship of Vikir is like dried beef jerky.

    The essence of the extreme, that is the intention to kill the other person.

    Vikir''s sword has a clear sense of purpose.

    ... Fuck!

    The shortsword hit Cerberus'' side.

    The gas-like aura exploded and Cerberus let out a scream.

    However, Cerberus, the guard dog of hell, does not faint at this level.

    The guy stabbed his w into the empty part just below the trajectory the shortsword had drawn.

    Knock!

    Since I took the bones of my opponent, it is natural for me to sacrifice my own flesh.

    Vikir''s back snapped.

    but. Surprisingly, his body, which was almost pickled in the River Styx, withstood Cerberus'' ws.

    "... ... But twice would be impossible."

    Vikir frowned.

    No gut burst, but several of his ribs were definitely broken.

    Besides, to make matters worse.

    Pacan!

    The short sword that couldn''t withstand Vikir''s aura eventually broke.

    "this."

    Difficulty. But a seasoned hunter always finds the best route even under these circumstances. that.

    "It''s a series of 36 lines."

    Thirty-six strategies devised by the head of the Leviathan family, who is the most knowledgeable in the art of war among the 7 families.

    Among them, the 36th is the circumstance sangchaek (�ߠ��ϲ�).

    Hodak-

    Vikir quickly turned around and kicked the ground as hard as he could.

    Then Cerberus, who seized the victory, goes after such a vikir.

    [...] Kreureung!]

    Cerberus, who attacked in an instant, would have been caught right away if it hadn''t been for the huge wounds carved on his side.

    Vikir escaped the floodwaters, deeply grateful to the nameless savage tribe beyond the mountains.

    yet. You can see the boundary that Vikir has crossed.

    Unfortunately or fortunately, there were no guide dogs around.

    Vikir jumped over the barbed wire marking the border and ran.

    Cerberus smashed the barbed wire and stake right in front of his eyes and smashed them, then thrust three of his heads into Vikir''s back.

    [Kong! kong! keong!]

    What could be more powerful than a hound chasing its prey?

    Cerberus opens his mouth in triumph.

    The distance now narrowed right in front of him. soon. Soon you will be able to chew the flesh and bite the bones of your prey.

    ... thump!

    If only it hadn''t been for the floor that suddenly went down.

    Pook-

    Suddenly, the floor copsed.

    Cerberus threw himself into a pit covered with dry straw to make it indistinguishable from the in.

    Falling into the trap, Cerberus lost his bnce, but hended on the ground and tried to jump back over the pit.

    ... ... But that was impossible.

    Fufufufufu!

    This is because numerous wooden spears stuck upside down on the floor stabbed her body.

    [Sweet!]

    A tearing scream erupted from each of Cerberus'' three heads.

    At the bottom of the pit Vikir had dug, there were countless wooden spears protruding.

    Of course, most of the wooden spears could not pierce Cerberus'' hard skin and broke, but some wooden spears prated

    Cerberus'' body and left fatal wounds.

    It was the lower abdomen on the inside of the side, where the arrowhead-shaped wound had been deeply dug.

    "Wee to the cradle of the sword."

    Vikir briefly congratted himself.

    Originally, this trap was made in preparation for being chased by other monsters such as hellhounds.

    They were installed just to impede movement or a little.

    Now I''m making quite an unexpected ie.

    but that''s it

    Bubbly... ...

    Cerberus snapped and broke the wooden spears stuck in his side and mouth, and his whole body trembled violently.

    A mad rage, but it was something else that made Cerberus'' body tremble before that.

    Blood Bean!

    Vikir boiled the bloodbean beans and soaked the wooden spear in the water so that the energy soaked into the tip of the spear.

    Cerberus is also a canine monster. Arge amount of chocte energy permeates directly into the body through the blood of the wound.

    However, like a high-ranking monster, he did not fall down at once.

    Foam at the mouth, burning excrement dripping from the anus, and the thick smell of chocte coffee.

    But even so, the three heads stand upright and stare at Vikir.

    Vikir shook his sack and took out all the Bloody Beans.

    Tick! tick tick! sudden!

    Beans fly towards Cerberus''s three gaping jaws.

    Most of the beans thrown by Vikirnded in Cerberus''s mouth, which was slowed down by his spear.

    As a result, Cerberus'' movement gradually slows down.

    Dduduk! Pop!

    Eventually, Cerberus broke several wooden spears stuck in his body and drove Vikir to the corner of his pit.

    It was around the time the sack of Blood Bean Beans was empty.

    Cerberus has be a wreck, but he still has the strength to bite his prey by the neck with a final leap.

    "... ... ."

    Knowing that, Vikir, who had been driven to a dead end, looked extremely prudent.

    Before long, Cerberus moved.

    Vikir also lunges forward, clutching one of his wooden spears.

    ... Pod!

    The wooden spear thrown by the hunter flew through the air and grazed Cerberus'' body.

    The wooden spear, which seemed to be slightly stuck in the wound on the side, was pulled out helplessly.

    If it wasn''t for the original arrow mark, it would have bounced off at all.

    Cerberus bared his teeth at Vikir.

    Cerberus'' six eyes burned even more intensely at the thought that he would soon see the end of his prey that had been so annoying.

    ... ... but.

    Breetle!

    Cerberus, who was running, staggered his body for an instant.

    Cerberus, who suddenly lost his bnce, panicked, but calmly took a step forward again.

    stagger-

    However, the second step was also slightly out of focus.

    The same goes for the third step. In the fourth step, it even nearly fell over with its legs bent in a strange direction, and in the fifth step fell.

    And in the sixth step, he dragged his body forward once, and in the seventh step, he fell t on the floor without even crawling.

    Only seven times.

    The number of steps Cerberus took while approaching Vikir.

    That was hisst.

    ... Cheeky!

    The three heads, foam bubbling at the corners of their mouths, fell down and never moved again.

    Only then did Vikir sit down leaning against the cliff.

    "... ... There is something worth hiding."

    The hunter''s gaze is directed at the wooden spear he threw earlier.

    A wooden spear that just grazed Cerberus.

    However, the wooden spear is a little different from other wooden spears.

    Attached to the tip of the spear were two small but sharp spikes.

    At the end of this dry thorn, you can see that there is a dark aura.

    A snake''s venom that makes it difficult to even walk.

    The Bloody Mamba''s posion was still flowing through it.

 Chapter 12: The Gluttonous Flies (1)

    <h4>Chapter 12: The Gluttonous Flies (1)</h4>

    Droopy Cerberus.

    Greasy vomit flowed out of his mouth at the same time.

    Tsutsutsutsutsu...

    Immediately after Cerberus'' death, the spirit from his body got absorbed Vikir''s body.

    This mysterious energy, called karma, karma, experience, etc., makes the body and spirit of those who defeat monsters even more noble.

    "It must be difficult to carry this."

    Vikir tried to move Cerberus'' corpse, but gave up.

    And he decided to just leave Cerberus'' body here.

    Anyway, the cause of death was clear, and there were many guide dogs who saw Vikir shaving a wooden spear in this hideout, so there were many people who could prove it.

    So, all he did was to remove a few important parts and entrails and bury them in a secret ce.

    ... More than anything.

    "It''s not important right now."

    Vikir peered beyond Cerberus'' corpse into the deeper forest he hade from.

    Cerberus is basically a gatekeeper-type monster born with the habit of defending his territory.

    Regardless of whether he had been pushed all the way here by the barbarians, it was clear that there was probably a ''dungeon'' guarded by Cerberus nearby.

    A dungeon is a cave-like ce where treasures were usually present, but most of them are also the habitat of powerful high-ranking monsters.

    "Cerberus is dead, so it''s likely no other monster is there."

    In general, monsters are attracted to strong demonic energy, so there is a high possibility that relics with strong demonic energy existed in the dungeon where Cerberus was.

    To be honest, Cerberus is not a monster that just lived anywhere.

    Vikir searched the outside of the borders, keenly alerted to the usual spirit of Baskeville''s hounds.

    Hellhound and quite a few monsters fled far away just by lsmell of Cerberus.

    Vikir''s eyes trace back the footprints and marks of Cerberus, buried in the withered soil, rotting leaves, damp roots and dismal darkness.

    As I walked through the withered thorns, burned roots, and decayed old trees, the depths of the flood were soon revealed.

    Dungeon.

    It was a low-lying crypt betweenrge mounds of earth.

    From above, it looked inconspicuous.

    It was not made by Cerberus, and it is assumed that it has been there for quite some time.

    Of course, this ce was also a ce in Vikir''s memory. It will be discovered in the next 10 years or so.

    "... ... But I think it was an empty back then."

    But now it is different.

    The smell of demons hidden behind the rotten smell.

    An inexperienced hunter might miss it, but Vikir managed to sense it.

    ... ttering!

    Vikir broke the parched mound and slipped down into the crypt.

    Eventually, you will see a dungeon made of reddish soil and rocks.

    A vein of ruby protruded out of the mound, as if it was connected to the Le Rogue Mountain, a tributary of the Le Rogue Mountains.

    As he entered the darkness of the cave, he saw a deep, winding passageway.

    A ce so dark and deep that you have to feel it with your hands.

    But surprisingly, the inside of the dungeon was wide and bright.

    There was a fairly spacious stone chamber, and a ruby stone the size of a fist protruded around it, emitting a red light.

    A stone chamber stained red like blood by the ruby light.

    Vikir looked at his own shadow that was cast on the wall of the stone chamber.

    "... ... Is it a dungeon with nothing?"

    The stone chamber was just empty.

    No, it wasn''t quite empty.

    At the end of the ce where Vikir''s long shadow reached, two skeletons were scattered.

    A skeleton with cuts all over its body cut and broken as if it had been stabbed by a knife.

    Looking closely, the inside of the ruby-colored had marks of a fight.

    Judging by the marks, it must have been a very long time.

    Yet Vikir found a page of handwriting written on the side of the skeleton.

    [ First of all, it''s okay if you don''t know my name. Just call me ''Gain''.

    Do I really need to stain this paper with my name?

    After thinking about it several times, I write down a few characters for the purpose of preventing

    future generations from making the same mistake as me. ]

    It was an unusual diary from the start.

    Vikir continued to read the text, relying on the red light.

    After some time, Vikir noticed that these letters were written in a old script descended from the Baskeville family.

    "Is he the ancestors of Baskeville?"

    It was a reasonable inference.

    [ This stone chamber is an ancient dungeon that has been talked about as a legend within the family.

    My brother and I found this ce by chance, went through countless trials to explore it, and

    eventually reached this room.

    It turns out that this dungeon once had a fairly tough difficulty level.

    Although now it remains only as an empty and lonely crypt.

    And it is presumed that the person who wrote this memoir and the skeleton scattered here must

    have been twin brothers.

    My brother and I killed countless monsters and arrived at this ce.

    However, thest task we received in this stone chamber kept our brothers on their feet. For a

    whopping 3 years!

    Vikir raised his head.

    What is the "task" they are talking about?

    The question was soon resolved.

    It was because I could see the writings engraved on the stone wall in the direction where the skeleton''s skull was facing.

    [ Onees in, twoe in, and one goes out. ]

    It was a strange riddle.

    Vikir looked at the notes again.

    [ My brother and I pondered over this gloomy phrase for a long time.

    However, considering that this dungeon has been passed down as a legend in the Baskeville

    family, the meaning is clear.

    We don''t know what it means only one of us can achieve what he wants from this dungeon?

    We brothers who entered the dungeon.

    They were originally one when they were conceived in their mother''s womb, but split into two

    when they came out into the world.

    And to get what they want out of this dungeon, they must be one again.

    Realistically, the bodies of the twins could not be joined as one, so they had to kill each other to

    remain as one. ]

    It is the custom of the Baskeville family to instigate rivalry between siblings.

    The two brothers started fighting each other for a long time, and the match ended with the death

    of the younger brother.

    "Then, does the younger brother here be ''Abel''?"

    Cain and Abel.

    The older brother who had to kill his younger brother in order to be ''chosen''.

    Vikir thought as he looked at the skeletons scattered on the floor.

    A skeleton that was almost weathered even in a windless stone chamber, no matter how long it had been dead.

    However, the content of the manuscript was quite unexpected.

    [ I killed my brother after a fierce battle. Now, I am the only one left in this stone chamber.

    However, despite this, there was no change in the stone chamber.

    A handwriting that gradually bes colored with madness.

    The handwriting also became more and more crooked, and in the end, Vikir had to understand the meaning of the letters at an almost decipherable level.

    [ Even though it was obviously two to one, I didn''t get anything!

    You can''t get out without getting anything!

    nothing! nothing!

    However, as for thest handwriting, it was returned in a neat handwriting, probably written after

    a long time had passed.

    I''ll stop wasting time.

    If there are brave descendants who will visit this ce in the distant future, I would like to

    you to give up.

    get out of here right now

    It is said that nothing can be obtained in this devil''s den, which only deceives and mocks people. ]

    In the end, what he wanted to say was clear.

    He passed through all the barriers and came here, but it was dog hair.

    Andters are also encouraged to go back the way they came from without losing their strength.

    ... But Vikir thought differently.

    "I''m not a twin."

    Despite the fact that Vikir is not a twin, the content of the assignment is still valid.

    That means that Cain and Abel, who were here, misinterpreted the contents of the text.

    "When I came in, I was one, but when you came in, there were two, so when you go out, you have to be one again?"

    Baskeville looked at the cave behind him.

    It was a jet ck without a single strand of light.

    And in front of it was a stone chamber where there was light.

    Before long, Vikir turned his head to look at the skull.

    What hangs over the end of the skull is its own shadow. shadow!

    "... ... Right."

    Vikir raised his fist.

    Then he smashed therge ruby ore that lit up the stone chamber red with his fist and shattered it.

    Clink!

    When the ruby shatters, the faint magic within it also disappears.

    The inside of the stone chamber was plunged into darkness for an instant.

    OK.

    Ku-gu-gu-gu-gu-kwak!

    A strange thing happened.

    The stone wall on one side of the stone chamber had copsed.

    The wall was so thick that the thickness alone could reach tens of meters.

    It is sorge that you would never think of it as a door.

    Vikir nodded.

    The answer to the riddle was simple ''shadow''.

    When you enter, you arepletely alone in the passage of darkness, but the moment you enter the stone chamber illuminated by ruby light, the shadows separate.

    And when the ruby is removed andplete darknesses, the shadow returns to the body.

    When they be one, the final stage of the stone chamber will be opened.

    Vikir cautiously reached out in front of him.

    Fortunately, the space beyond the stone wall was a t, single road, and there were no traps.

    Cain and Abel would have sorted out the swarming monsters long ago, so all that remains is to check the dungeon''s rewards.

    Before long, something cold touched Vikir''s fingertips.

    It''s the handle of a sword.

    The sword was firmly stuck vertically into the rock, and an inscription was inscribed in front of it.

    Vikir fumbled with his fingertips and read the words.

    ''Only the blood of the Baskevilles is this ''...''''Will I be able to pull out.''

    The text mentions thest name Baskeville and Carl''s first name.

    And the moment he learned the name of the knife, a shock like a thunderbolt hit Vikir.

    "... ...Was this an artifact that found here?"

 Chapter 13: The Gluttonous Flies (2)

    <h4>Chapter 13: The Gluttonous Flies (2)</h4>

    ''Only the lineage of the Baskevilles will be able to select this ''Baalzebub''.''

    The text mentions thest name of Baskeville and Devil''s first name.

    "... ... Was this an artifact found here?"

    Vikir traced the shape of the sword with extremely fine beams of light from broken ruby shards.

    A ck awl with an elongated snout protruding from a three-bead-shaped knife stand, round and reddish like a ruby.

    The rugged handle area is glistening green and looks like arge fly.

    Vikir knew the identity of this artifact.

    As a child in his previous life, he clearly remembers seeing it in an illustration on a page in a myth book.

    ''Baalzebub, the gluttonous fly''

    It is long to exin the origin of this sword.

    To summarize briefly.

    In the mythology of the distant past, there were demonic constetions called the ''Seven Disasters'', unprecedented demonic beasts that invaded this continent, and all humans on the entire continent joined forces to defeat these demonic constetions.

    And the remains of these seven demonic constetions were left in this world in any form, whether material or notional, and despite being in a position where they could no longer interfere with thew of cause and effect, they retained some of the power they had in life.

    One of them was this sword, Baalzebub.

    The heads of seven families, including the first head of the Baskeville family, each defeated one demon constetion.

    For this reason, the remains of Baalzebub were kept in the Baskeville family''s estate, and the strong demonic energy emitted by this artifact drew powerful monsters nearby. It is an old legend that few people believe in now.

    ''But the legend was true, andter this sword would fall into the hands of the demons.''

    This forgotten artifact suddenly appeared on the battlefield one day and drove countless humans to their deaths.

    Even among the demons, the owner of this sword continued to change, and perhaps the number of demons far exceeded the number of people killed by this sword.

    ... But now the situation is a little different.

    Baalzebub''s artifact came into Vikir''s hands.

    In my previous life, I was robbed by demons and didn''t even know it was stolen, but that won''t be the case now.

    buzz buzz buzz-

    The sword began to resonate with the mana emitted by Vikir. The sound of the wings of a fly is loud in my ears.

    Vikir stretched out his hand and caressed it, and the sword, Beazelbub, began to be absorbed into the palm of his hand as if it were part of Vikir''s body.

    ... Pod!

    As Vikir stretches out his hand for strength, ck cracks from the artery side of his wrist.

    Beazelbub would thus hide quietly inside Vikir''s body, and when he wanted, it would spring out and serve as a spare sword.

    However.

    Beazelbub is a strange sword made from the corpse of a demon constetion.

    This is not the end of this supernatural ability.

    ... growl!

    As soon as Baalzebub settled inside Vikir''s suddenly felt very weak.

    "... ... what is this."

    Vikir was a little taken aback.

    In my previous life, he was used to starving for a week and eating everything in one meal.

    When he went out into the field, he often stayed in hiding drinking only water for a month.

    A warrior that has been trained so harshly can endure things like this easily.

    Even in a body of a child there was no way he would be this weak.

    ... growl!

    Once more, his stomach twists as if in a fit of rage.

    Vikir realized that this extreme hunger was not normal.

    "Are you asking for something?"

    That''s right.

    Beelzebub agitated Vikir with the buzz of wings.

    sniff-

    Perhaps his sense of smell has also be sensitive, and he smells delicious somewhere.

    It''s the smell of demons. An appetizing smell wafted from outside the dungeon.

    Vikir crawled out of the dungeon and walked into the forest.

    As he approached the border area and returns to where he came from, his smell grew stronger.

    The first thing he encountered was the corpse of a hellhound.

    Baalzebub didn''t even call, but he stuck out first.

    As it should be, a hound that exposes its teeth without being ordered by its owner must be punished.

    But Vikir made an exception this time.

    Because the hunger he shared with it was so intense.

    ''Looks like he''s starved for a long time.''

    The corpse on which Baalzebub was embedded and the soil around it were very dry and twisted.

    No, perhaps it is because of Baalzebub''s mad hunger that the entire Le Rogue Mountains are made up of dead trees and parched soil?

    Then, how much food did he need to supply to appease this in the future?

    "... ... ."

    Vikir shook his head and brushed away his thoughts.

    Baalzebub''s power was enough to bear the price.

    yet.

    The Baalzebub that Vikir knew began to reveal its power.

    gulp- gulp- gulp- gulp- gulp- gulp-

    The Hellhound''s corpse, Baalzebub stuck in the neck, began to suck blood at an astounding rate.

    Blood and gut juices enter Vikir through Baalzebub''s awl pipe.

    The hungry was filled.

    ... sparkle!

    Vikir noticed that one of Baalzebub''s three eyeballs glowed exceptionally red.

    ''I got the skill.''

    Yes. Vikir''s intuition is correct.

    Baalzebub, a gluttonous fly, had the power to steal the other person''s unique characteristics or specialties while alive.

    The width of absorption was close to infinity, and countless people were deprived of all the achievements they had made throughout their lives to Baalzebub and turned into ipetent people.

    Unfortunately, this is harmful , so there is no such ripple effect.

    Only 3 skills can be stolen from the opponent.

    Vikir''s Baalzebub gained a skill by sucking the blood of a hellhound.

    <Baalzebub, a gluttonous fly>

    -1 slot: Bleeding �C Hellhound (B+)

    -2 slot: none

    -3 slot: none

    An ability that is only manifested by Vikir''s will.

    Whoever is stung by this awl will feel the full mortal power of the hounds of hell.

    In general, even shallow and minor wounds that do not bleed will always draw blood over time, and bleedingsts much longer than normal wounds.

    Meanwhile.

    Jagged jagged-

    Baalzebub sucked the hellhound''s corpse until it was almost mummified before it fell.

    The skill was taken away right away, but it seemed that he was simply hungry.

    Vikir also felt his hunger subside somewhat.

    ... growl!

    But even so, he was still hungry.

    The delicious smell that passed my nose was still wafting from far away.

    Vikir hurriedly got out of the forest.

    Eventually, a familiar boundary line appears.

    cradle.

    You can see the space where the children of the Baskevilles take their exams.

    When he crossed the border, he saw a hole he had dug under a rock in the distance.

    Fortunately, it seems that the supervision of the guide dogs has note yet.

    Well, no matter how ''cradle'' it is, the area is quiterge. The supervision of the guide dogs would not have reached all parts of the test site.

    Furthermore, since he was just sitting in the pit for a long time, it is clear that Vikir was already ssified as a safe surveince target and his surveince was neglected.

    Vikir crossed the boundary and went down to the hideout and removed all the soil and fallen leaves that had been lightly covered.

    Before long, an appetizing piece of meat appears.

    Cerberus. It was spread out as it was when it died.

    buzz buzz buzz-

    Baalzebub, who smells the fat meat, is very fond of it and dies.

    The sound of the wings of a fly grew louder.

    Soon after, Baalzebub set his fangs into Cerberus'' corpse and began to gorge himself on meat and organs.

    But Vikir stopped Baalzebub.

    "Wah- Whoa- This is proof of practical evaluation. If you damage it too much, it will be difficult to exin when you do an autopsyter."

    Still, Baalzebub doesn''t care and pushes in from the snout.

    Vikir''s expression turned grim.

    "no!"

    match!

    Vikir hit the back of his hand violently.

    He hit the back of his own hand.

    Keeing... ...

    Baalzebub finally noticed and removed the fangs from Cerberus'' corpse.

    Vikir saw new blood and abilities running through the arteries on the back of his hand.

    <Baalzebub, a gluttonous fly> / Awl

    -1 slot: Burn (Fire) -Cerberus (A+)

    -2 slot: Bleeding �C Hellhound (B+)

    -Slot 3: High-speed regeneration -Norbegicus the Rat (F)

    Is it because Cerberus is a more powerful monster?

    1 slot was upied by the blood of Cerberus.

    Hellhound pushed to 2 slots.

    And absurdly, the 3rd slot had the blood of a rat.

    Perhaps under Cerberus'' corpse, the bones and hides of a rat that had been eaten were strewn about.

    ''Looks like I can delete the previous skill if I catch a stronger monster.''

    Vikirughed as he saw that among the three arteries that pulsated on his wrist, the artery where the rat''s blood flowed had shrunk in particr.

    For now, Vikir decided to leave it alone, as it would be better to have something rather than leave it empty.

    Above all, it was a great harvest to obtain the ''Burn'' skill of Cerberus, the guardian of hell.

    Now, the person stabbed by this will be burned that never heals naturally by the mes of the oil world possessed by the hell watcher Cerberus.

    Once you get stabbed, you have to live with the burning pain until you die.

    Considering that one of the worst pains that humans can feel is burning pain, it must have been much worse than the bleeding skill that a hellhound possessed.

    "Now I have everything I can get on this mountain."

    There''s not much to do now.

    Just rx like this until the end of the practical evaluation, submit the body of Cerberus to the guide dogs and receive first ce evaluation, and that''s it.

    And perhaps Vikir will be rewarded for this.

    "... ... ."

    Vikir closed his eyes and checked his body.

    As a wizard, he had already umted 4 mana circles.

    The number of Baskeville teeth that can be drawn with his sword is three. No, maybe four now.

    This is the stage of looking at the beginning of a graduate from the highest level of sword expert.

    ''If it is evaluated lightly, it is the highest level of expert, and if it is evaluated generously, it is a beginner level graduate.''

    In practice, it is right to see it as an expert because it is half lower than my ability.

    In hisst life, no matter how much mana he umted and how skilled he was inbat, he couldn''t draw more than 4 teeth because of the limitations of the swordsmanship he had learned.

    For reference, the current Hugo has 7 teeth, and the Hugo before returning knew a swordsmanship that could draw 9 teeth.

    Baskeville Type 9.

    This is a swordsmanship that only extends to the family head and his direct descendant, the eldest son who will seed the family, and the bastard son who will assist him.

    It was a noble and sophisticated swordsmanship that was on a different level from the 4th form that Vikir had learned.

    But now it''s different.

    "... ... 10 meals."

    Baskeville Type 10. ten teeth.

    The ultimate state that no Baskeville in this world could reach.

    A legendary swordsmanship textbook that contained the teachings of the first head of the family who were said to have subdued the demonic constetion belonging to the Seven Disasters in the distant past.

    Vikir knew where the treasure was.

    ''I don''t have to go far.''

    Unexpectedly, it is rotting in a very close ce, among misceneous books that are somon and close that anyone can easily read them.

    who will give it to you?

    Hugo Le Baskevilles, the head of the Baskeville family.

    He will hand it over to Vikir himself.

    He couldn''t even imagine how much the value of the job book he handed over was.

 Chapter 14: Solitary (1)

    <h4>Chapter 14: Solitary (1)</h4>

    Practical evaluation was over.

    As the hounds came back.

    Usually, hounds receive the monster corpse as a spoil.

    The same was true of the children of the Baskevilles.

    They acquired shields, swords, nes, etc. made from the parts of the corpses of the monsters.

    Through this opportunity, the young hounds would grow stronger.

    The exam that had been tense until the written test was over disappeared as if it had been washed after the ranks were set.

    Perhaps because of the experience of rolling together in extreme conditions for a long time, an unknown and strange brotherly love was emerging throughout the ss.

    Of course, despite this, there were still some siblings who didn''t get along well, but most of them solved their problems during the practical exam or died, so unexpectedly, infighting rarely urred in the ss.

    In this way, for a few days a year, a rxed atmosphere pervaded the Baskevilles after the practical exam.

    * * *

    Hugo Baskeville, head of the Baskeville family, was receiving a report from Butler Barrymore.

    "... ... Who caught what?"

    It is almost unheard of for a superhuman who has risen to the level of a sword master to doubt his own body.

    But at this moment, Hugo was clearly doubting his ears.

    Deacon Barrymore read the report again in a clear, excited voice.

    "Vikir van Baskeville in the ss of 8. Crossed the boundary line and entered the forbidden zone during practical evaluation. Sessfully hunted down Cerberus, a monster of danger grade A+. That is all."

    It''s the second time he talking about, but it still sounded ridiculous.

    An 8-year-old child went out to the forbidden area and came back alive.

    Actually, this alone is great enough.

    Just being able to draw a map or listen to testimonies that help them guess the topography and ecosystem outside the Unsealed Zone is a tremendous achievement.

    However, this unprecedented 8-year-old child went into hell and returned to life unharmed, and even brought back Cerberus, the guard dog of hell!

    "... ... Cerberus is a high-ranking monster that even the family guardian knights feel burdened to deal with."

    Hugo stroked his beard with a puzzled expression.

    However, the detailed report that followed was even more absurd.

    Hugo reread the report once and put down his reading sses.

    "He lured Cerberus into a trap and stabbed him with his throat spear? Do you think this makes sense?"

    "Originally, it was an object that was injured by barbarians, and there is also information that poison was applied to the throat, Lord."

    "No matter how injured it is, it is the same. What poison was strong enough to send Cerberus away? Where else did he say?"

    "that is... ... Nothing else was recorded in the hunting log. I was going to ask the young master, but he said he was tired and went right back to the dorm."

    At Barrymore''s words, Hugo put on a dazed expression for a moment, then chuckled.

    "The young man is already puzzled but information is power, and power is value. Self-worth is what you have to raise and protect."

    Hugo turned his gaze back to the report.

    It is admirable that Vikir did not immediately reveal the poison that caught Cerberus, but it is also admirable that he did not take Cerberus'' corpse directly to the guide dogs, but covered it with soil and concealed it until the practical evaluation was over.

    Deacon Barrymore admired.

    "His patience is truly amazing. When I was an eight-year-old, I would do anything to be praised by adults and respected by my siblings. If I had caught Cerberus at the age of 8, I would have turned it over to the Guardian Knights right away. To get praise and attention."

    "Ha. If I did, I would end up looking like old Santiago."

    Hugo refering to a fisherman from a legend of the distant past.

    He went out to sea and caught a huge monster fish, but while he was tying the fish to a boat and dragging it, he met a group of sharks, took all his flesh, and returned home with only a huge bone.

    "If Vikir had caught Cerberus and started dragging that huge corpse around, he would have been the target of many brothers. He could have been killed if it wasn''t enough that he was deprived of all his achievements."

    After hearing Hugo''s words, Barrymore felt a chill running down his spine at the bloody family customs of the Baskevilles.

    "To be honest, I was very surprised. It is not a middle name of ''le'' or '', but a talented person like this is born among the youngsters who have a middle name of Van."

    "I''m different from the previous family heads. Bloodline should not be considered important when raising hounds. There are ugly dogs of good blood, and there are good dogs of poor blood. I don''t care if it''s a son from an imperial woman or a son from a street prostitute. As long as you have enough talent and courage."

    Hugo''s eyes, muttering in a low voice, are looking out the window at the distant spire.

    His second son.

    Barrymore noticed what Hugo was thinking when he looked at the spire, who was in training at the top of the spire.

    "It is said that even among dogs of good blood, there are ugly ones. Will you understand?"

    "... ... I''m sorry."

    Hugo waved his hand.

    "It fine. I''m the only one who loses if I have to be upset because of my stupid son. I just need a diversion."

    His gaze fell out of the window, this time to the report.

    Barrymore nodded his head when he realized his master''s intentions.

    "I''ll call the Master Vikir."

    * * *

    It was several hourster that Vikir stood in front of Hugo.

    Hugo still did not beat around the bush.

    He just asked it.

    "How did you catch Cerberus?"

    "I put chocte on his throat."

    It was the same with Vikir.

    Single sentence and an immediate answer.

    There was no b or grease in Hugo''s conversation with Vikir.

    Hugo''s eyes widened.

    "Is it chocte?"

    "Chocte is poison to canine monsters."

    "Huh. Is that why you asked for chocte the other day?"

    "yes."

    Vikir gave a short answer.

    After thinking for a while, Hugo opened his mouth again.

    "If true, the value of the information is quite great. It will be useful when subjugating canine monsters. There will be many advantages in trade with the information guild when raising dispatch results."

    "I think so too."

    The corner of Hugo''s mouth went up slightly at Vikir''s nonchnt reply.

    Hugo asked in a presumably cold voice.

    He said, "I heard that when the butler asked, he did not answer properly about hunting Cerberus."

    "you''re right. Because he is not my master."

    "Then who is your master?"

    To Hugo''s question, Vikir answered again calmly.

    "I belong to a family, so wouldn''t the owner of the family be you?"

    At that, Hugo finally nodded his head and smiled contentedly.

    "You learned well. As a reward, the carcass of the monster you caught will belong to you in its entirety."

    Cerberus, a monster of danger grade A+. Its corpse was worth the cost.

    Teeth and ws were used as weapons, organs and flesh as health food, and bones and hide as armor.

    There is nothing to throw away from the corpses of high-ranking monsters.

    It was a great reward to receive all of this in its entirety.

    Furthermore, Hugo gave Vikir another prize.

    "Since you ranked first in both writing and practical skills, the expectations of your family are high. If there is anything you want, tell me."

    "Didn''t you already hand over the corpse of Cerberus?"

    "That is my idea. I want to hear what you want."

    Vikir opened his eyes a little wide.

    Hugo''s words were somewhat surprising.

    This is because he never had a history of asking his children for their thoughts.

    He just give orders. Who would ask a dogs what they thought?

    But these variables are always wee.

    Thinking it would make things easier, Vikir voiced his opinion.

    "I want to go into the Inner Library."

    "... ... !"

    At those words, Hugo''s eyes narrowed.

    The Inner Library is a huge library located deep inside the fortress of the Baskeville family, and it isrge enough to rival thergest library in the world, the House of Morgue.

    Hugo put his chin on his chin and pondered for a moment. It''s rare for him.

    "... ... Hmm. Go all the way. It is a ce that only those of the pure blood can enter. Did you know and ask?"

    At those words, Vikir widened his eyes.

    A look that he didn''t know at all.

    ''I didn''t know about it because I didn''t have anything to go into the library in my previous life.''

    Culture, swordsmanship, and other knowledge were enough to be provided in sses within the family.

    He lived content with the reality and did not show any desire to learn more.

    That was the dog''s virtue and was tamed that way.

    ''... ... I didn''t know. If it doesn''t work, I''ll just do it another way.''

    Vikir quickly bit his foot. Well, it doesn''t matter. It''s enough to sneak in under cover of night.

    But things turned out easier than expected.

    "You may go."

    Hugo''s judgment was quick.

    Before Vikir could put on a dazed expression, Hugo continued.

    "I can''t give you too much time. Will ten days be enough?"

    "All it takes is one day."

    There is no need alert Hugo by staying in the library for a long time.

    Hugo looked down at Vikir with a faint smile.

    "What book do you want to read in just one day?"

    "I learned about ''family history'' during a liberal arts ss and just wanted to know more about it."

    He just mentioned any book in moderation,

    but Hugo must have liked Vikir''s answer quite a bit.

    "Family history. Feel so good. It''s good to be proud by studying the honorable history of your family."

    If you see him talking about pride that he didn''t even mention.

    Hugo even rmended a book for Vikir to read.

    "The depths of the Inner Library , If you look in the middle row of the library in the 6th control area, there is a swordsmanship manual called ''Baskeville 6th Form''. Read it."

    Vikir couldn''t believe his ears when he heard that.

    The world''s Hugo rmends a swordsmanship textbook?

    4 forms, which is the limit that Van''s surname can go up to, how many 6 meals?

    Baskeville sword forms.

    This swordsmanship, which allowed him to draw six teeth, could only be mastered by the elite among executives and direct descendants within the family.

    Hugo has now allowed it to Vikir. Even if it''s a very brief reading.

    Considering that the current Hugo had seven teeth, and the Hugo before the return knew how to produce nine teeth, Hugo''s current treatment was truly unconventional.

    Compared to the four forms Vikir had learned before returning, 6th was a powerful swordsmanship that was on a different level.

    But.

    Vikir, was aiming for something else, would not be very impressed.

    ''... ... It''s just meat.''

    A foolish idea that would make others faint if they heard it.

    But I''m not stupid enough to go out of the way to show it off.

    "thank you. I will definitely read it and live up to your expectations."

    Vikir bowed his head and thanked Hugo.

    He was a very humble and polite greeting, seemingly impable.

    Of course, if he had known what kind of evil lurked inside him, Hugo would have stopped Vikir even if he had to burn the library.

    "... ... ."

    Thinking that he has finished all his business, Hugo just indifferently turned his head away.

    Having obtained ess to the Inner Library, Vikir greeted politely until the end and then turned around and left the room.

    And.

    He set out on his way to the most precious treasure in all of the Baskevilles.

 Chapter 15: Solitary (2)

    <h4>Chapter 15: Solitary (2)</h4>

    Inner Library

    It is arge library located deep in the Baskerville family''s main castle, and its size rivals the ranking within the Empire.

    "Come to think of it, this is the first time I''vee in and seen it myself."

    Vikir passed through the entrance guarded by several knights and entered the restricted area.

    When he had presented the pass signed by Hugo himself, no one dared to stop him.

    Some knights even gave a salute with a light smile.

    Before long, Vikir stood in front of the passage leading to the depths of the universe.

    This library, made by directly drilling a hole in the rock wall, wasparable to the mouth of a giant monster.

    Books were piled up all over the ce, looking down at Vikir.

    "I''ll have to hurry up a bit."

    Vikir looked at his library, thinking about the time left.

    His heart was in a hurry, but his steps and gaze moved slowly.

    The unique feeling of old books, the smell of ink and dust.

    But he didn''t feel particrly cozy.

    Books discussing techniques for dealing with weapons, calction methods for killing enemies with the shortest route, and efficient and logical killing theories.

    And the library where they are tightly packed together.

    Numerous swordsmen from previous generations who existed in the history of the Baskevilles are engaged in a silent war of words, remaining only in theory.

    Is that why?

    Rather than stepping into a library, it felt like walking through the corridors of a prison where ruthless and cold homicidal maniacs were imprisoned.

    Vikir felt a stabbing gaze from the swordsmanship textbooks.

    And Vikir soon got used to all of this.

    tak-tak-tak-

    The sound of footsteps sinking into the abyss of the corridor.

    The deeper you go into the library, the older books you can see.

    ''Cutting front teeth'' swordsmanship, ''mincing mrs'' swordsmanship, ''piercing fangs'' swordsmanship, "double-bite double tooth" swordsmanship, "hidden tooth" swordsmanship... ... ,

    Familiar swordsmanship textbooks, swordsmanship textbooks he wanted to learn so much in his previous life, and swordsmanship textbooks that were so powerful that he had never dared to dream were lined up neatly like teeth.

    The locks to prevent theft or thieves'' ess were firmly locked.

    Usually, coteral and illegitimate children, no matter how much mana they have and how much experience they have in practice, it is difficult for them to learn more than 4 types of swordsmanship.

    Direct descendents learn at least 5-level swordsmanship, elites among direct descendents learn 6-level swordsmanship, and elders learn 7th-level swordsmanship.

    Hugo Baskerville has now mastered the 7th Baskerville, and the seven teeth he draws have made him one of the most powerful figures on the continent and a sword master.

    As it is a rivalry with the head of the House of Morgue, known as the great wizard of the 7th circle, the inaction must be simr to some extent.

    Vikir paused his steps.

    In the vast library, there are a sea of books that you can''t tell which book is in which ce.

    In one of them, he could see the book Hugo gave him.

    A bookshelf with severalyers of locks on it, befitting a valuable collection.

    When he matched the key Hugo gave him, the book hidden inside was revealed.

    <Baskerville Carnivore, Twice-Stuck Tooth>

    A book that contains noble swordsmanship that Vikir would never have dreamed of in his previous life.

    Vikir picked it up and looked it over.

    ording to the shape of the teeth drawn by the trajectory of the knife, the methods of cutting, stabbing, blocking, crushing, cutting, and mincing are described.

    And this swordsmanship manual was discussing how to draw a total of six teeth.

    Naturally, Hugo must have thought it would be unreasonable for 8-year-old Vikir to memorize them in one day.

    So, with a certain amount of goodwill and a certain amount of belittling, he would have allowed Vikir to read the book on meat-eating swordsmanship.

    However, Vikir was a skilled swordsman who has lived 40 years and was an elite Baskerville among Baskevilles who survived even after going through the age of destruction.

    Of course, he had mastered the theories of swordsmanship 1 to 4.

    To the extent that he already guessed and established the theory of the 5th fang, which he had not formally learned.

    The time when he was stagnant because he did not know the right way.

    The form for rising one''s status that one longed for with a burning thirst.

    "... ... Right. After drawing the fourth tooth, I had to break the flow of mana once. That''s why I couldn''t create a fifth tooth!"

    Vikir finally felt his thoughts clear up.

    It took only about 3 hours to understand and memorize the knowledge he had gained.

    Of course, it was thanks to the experience umted over and over while staying on 4 fangs for almost 20 years.

    Having memorized the entire book, Vikir soon closed it.

    It''s good that he figured out the way to go over to 4th fang and go to 5th and 6th fang, but in fact, that''s not the real purpose of being here today.

    Vikir returned to the very beginning of the Inner Library.

    It was a space that even knights who stood guard and servants who cleaned the library could pass through.

    "what? young master. Why did youe out again?"

    "What have you forgotten? We will bring it to you."

    "If you are hungry, shall we bring you a meal?

    Servantse to talk kindly.

    Judging from the subtle respect and fear imbued in his gaze, it seems that the rumors of this practical skills evaluation have already spread.

    But Vikir shook his head.

    "I''m done with my errands."

    The servants were also surprised by those words, and even the guardian knights who were standing guard were surprised.

    "Already?"

    "Watch a little more and thene out."

    "Do you still have a lot of time left?"

    Everyone didn''t say anything, but they looked very sorry.

    It must be so.

    To refuse the swordsmanship textbooks that were like treasures stored deep in the Inner Library and to leave them out in a matter of hours.

    It is understandable that they feel sorry for them, as these are valuable collections that are worth reading even at the risk of their lives.

    Even if it was Vikir before the return, it would have been the same.

    But Vikir was unconcerned.

    "Before I leave, I n to read other books as well, so stop worrying and do what you have to do."

    at the same time. Vikir headed to the shallowest floor of the Inner Library, where misceneous books were collected.

    Some of the knights, who were shining a watchful eye, whispered while watching such a Vikir.

    "If it were me, I would have read the swordsmanship textbooks in the depths. I must have memorized it like crazy."

    "he is still young and doesn''t know its full value. He would regret it for the rest of your life when you get older."

    "I have to tell the others not to worry. It''s because he is reading insignificant misceneous books like that."

    However, if they had seen Vikir''s expression back to them, they wouldn''t have thoughtlessly talked like that.

    Vikir was rummaging through the books with a zeal.

    Nobody cared about these books and they were a jumbled mess on this dusty bookshelf.

    Vikir searched slowly and painstakingly.

    And he was able to find what he was looking for within a few hours.

    The edge of the library, a ce that everyone could see, but everyone passed by without thinking.

    There was an old book stuck there.

    It seems that there is no preservation magic applied because it is quite dusty.

    "... ... ."

    Vikir stood for a long while, staring at the title of the book.

    <Lurking Ambush>

    A basic book of type 1 that even the children of the Baskevilles did not care to read.

    An old book ssified as a swordsmanship textbook.

    But who in this world knew the value of this book?

    Only Vikir, who had lived through the age of destruction, knew.

    This book is the Baskerville''s greatest treasure!

    Vikir pulled out the book.

    It seemed to have been on the bookshelf for a very long time, and at first it did note out well.

    It wasn''t until after I pulled out and put away a few books that were blocking my way that it was pulled out and revealed to the world.

    "... A lurking ambush."

    Having seeded in extracting the book, Vikir carefully swiped it with his hand.

    And he turned the page.

    Pararak-

    He quickly turned through the pages.

    And soon, the reason why this book was ssified as a misceneous book was revealed.

    A torn page can be seen in the middle of the book.

    A sparse book, as if a few pages had been knocked out.

    Torn marks are evident on every important page. Of course, the contents were cut off and not connected.

    Because of this, no one could understand the contents of this book, and as a result, it must have been ssified as such an insignificant misceneous book.

    but.

    ''... ... I know.''

    Vikir. he memorized what was written on the torn pages of this book.

    Because the memories of participating in the ''Operation to Recapture Torn Pages'' or ''Operation to Restore Missing Teeth'' were still clear in his head.

    At that time, the hound that crossed countless lines and collected all the pages that had been torn and lost was Vikir van Baskeville!

 Chapter 16: Solitary (3)

    <h4>Chapter 16: Solitary (3)</h4>

    It all started by ident.

    Before the regression, Vikir''s hunting party, the Hound Group, was raiding the dungeons that straddled the border between the Enemy and ck Mountain when they found a strange artifact.

    It was a fragment of a swords manual.

    It was a single torn page.

    Realizing that what was written on it was strange, Vikir memorized it in his mind.

    When he handed in the page in question, Hugo immediately realized that it contained something out of the ordinary.

    Hugo searched through his entire library to find a book that matched this page.

    What he eventually found was a swordsmanship book titled The Lurking Ambush.

    It was an ancient book, found deep in the shallow shelves of misceneous books, not in the restricted area where the higher martial arts were concentrated.

    The sudden discovery of this sword technique, buried in an unknown location, had set the entire Baskerville Street on fire.

    "This sword art is the essence of our Baskerville."

    Hugo raves.

    At first nce, the sword technique was insignificant, but with the addition of the missing pages, the system waspletely redefined.

    A sword that would seemingly defend itself against an enemy''s attack, then suddenly leap out and bite down on the point of death, with the sole purpose of inflicting pain on the enemy.

    This sword art, which must have been written long ago by some ancestor named Baskerville, describes how to draw ten teeth.

    The Baskerville Tenth Form.

    Hugo, who had achieved the rank of Sword Master with only seven techniques, couldn''t help but be intrigued.

    ... But even with Vikir''s discovery of the missing first half, the book was still iplete.

    There were more missing pages in the second half.

    The torn pages totaled seven.

    Except for the one that Vikir found, the other six were lost.

    Hugo spent the next several years collecting the torn pages of this "''Lurking Ambush''".

    The Baskervilles were relentless in their pursuit.

    After investing vast amounts of time and money, Hugo realized that the torn pages of the Swordsmanship Book were hidden deep within the estates of each of the seven families that supported the empire.

    Naturally, Hugo set out to retrieve them one by one.

    It was a project he called Operation Reim the Torn Pages or Operation Restore the Missing Teeth.

    Vikir shook his head from side to side as he recalled the memory.

    He could still smell the blood at the end of his nose.

    "... It was a long, drawn-out operation.

    Hugo unleashed the dogs to retrieve the page.

    Whether they knew about the torn pages or not, the resistance from the other families was fierce.

    For them, it was a matter of course.

    No one would look good with someone else''s hounds bursting into their courtyard.

    The Baskervilles practically dered war on all the other houses.

    Countless Baskerville hounds perished under the weight of it.

    The number of siblings andpanions I had grown up ying with had shrunk at an unbelievable rate.

    The familiar faces of yesterday are nowhere to be seen in the dining hall.

    The gaps left by the missing teeth were filled with new ones, which fell out just as quickly.

    The one permanent tooth that didn''t fall out through all that gnashing of teeth was Vikir''s.

    Vikir became a vicious right-handed ck dog, fighting and fighting and fighting.

    Eventually, he gathered the seven missing pages and brought them to his master.

    A few fingers and toes, a pair of ears, ugly burns and cuts covering his entire body, and his lost brothers.

    The reward for all this was simple and straightforward.

    "Well done."

    A single word of praise from Hugo''s mouth. Why did he think it was enough at the time?

    " ...It was a stupid life."

    Vikir gritted his teeth.

    Before the regression, Hugo had used all the things that Vikir and the hounds had asked for to provide for himself and his two sons.

    Hugo''s cultivation had risen beyond the seventh degree to the ninth, and the honor of Ironde Baskerville had soared.

    The blood of the hounds and the flesh of the deady beneath him.

    "That will not happen in this life."

    Vikir closed his eyes and recalled the pages in his mind.

    Everything that had been written on those lost pages was in his mind.

    Nevertheless, the reason why the pre-regression Vikir couldn''t go beyond the fourth teeth was because he didn''t know the original.

    The pages he remembered were sparse, only seven pages at most.

    Without the original, they were useless.

    ... But not now.

    In Vikir''s hands now was the original copy of the ''Lurking Ambush'' sword technique!

    Though seven pages had been torn out, the missing information was still perfectly clear in Vikir''s mind.

    The experience of fighting through multipleyers of siege, sometimes with no way to keep the pages themselves intact, and carrying them in his mind, shines through.

    Soon, Vikir began to read the book.

    ...10The first step of a decadal eclipse corresponds to a sr eclipse. The moment a sword is drawn and shows aggression in its first trajectory, all swordy from then on has an innate limitation...

    Indeed.

    If an ignorant person were to read this book, it would be treated as a bunch of nonsense.

    What''s the point of having 10 forms?

    But as soon as the torn pages are reconstructed and the nks are filled in, what was once a bunch of bluster and rhetoric bes the puzzle pieces that make up a masterpiece.

    Vikir notices that the gaze of his surroundings haspletely disappeared, and he moves his body ordingly.

    Four teeth, honed to the limit before his regression. After that, the story begins in earnest.

    The book exined how to reveal the fifth tooth, how to make the sixth tooth, how dangerous the seventh tooth was, when to reveal the eighth tooth, if the ninth tooth actually existed, and what the tenth tooth was.

    Even though he didn''t have enough mana and his body was immature for an eight-year-old, he would surely be able to recreate all of these things someday.

    ''...15 years old. Within it, he regains all of his pre-regression powers.''

    Of course, it doesn''t end there.

    After that, you will go beyond the fifth degree, to the sixth and seventh degrees, which were unattainable before the regression.

    The stain of the past, the time when you were pushed aside, beaten, and ignored by your superiors because you didn''t have the aura of a Graduate, yet didn''t have the swordsmanship to match, will never have to happen again.

    "I''ll start by memorizing the contents of the book."

    As soon as the memorization is finished, the book will disappear from the world forever.

    Then Hugo won''t find it, and he won''t have to make nine teeth.

    Pretty sweet revenge for an eight-year-old, don''t you think?

    Vikirughed, though dryly.

    He still had more than twelve hours to go in the Mansang Library, no matter how little time he took.

    For the children of Baskerville Street, it would not be too difficult to memorize a small book in that time.

    Half a day from now.

    Unaware of what she would be afterward, Vikir read the book.

    And then, at exactly 11 hours and 50 minutes from now.

    ...boom!

    A small fire broke out in the shallowest part of the Great Library, in the section where the janitors were gathered.

    No injuries. No fatalities.

    Damage was minimal, with one tome burned to the ground.

    It was a small enough incident that even the servants shrugged it off.

    And then, at exactly 11 hours and 50 minutes from now.

    ...boom!

    A small fire broke out in the shallowest part of the Great Library, in the section where the janitors were gathered.

    No injuries. No fatalities.

    Damage was minimal, with one tome burned to the ground.

    It was a small enough incident that even the servants shrugged it off.

 Chapter 17: Solitary (4)

    <h4>Chapter 17: Solitary (4)</h4>

    "That''s it."

    Vikir closed the book.

    He had memorized the entire book, word for word.

    He had memorized it so intensely that he could recite it with his eyes closed, even backwards.

    And. the results were soon visible.

    Ssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

    Vikir drew a sword in the air, just as he had learned in the book.

    The first tooth was drawn sharply.

    Then the second, then the third.

    So far, so good for an eight-year-old.

    Kirik!

    Then the fourth tooth appeared. It was the Baskerville Fourth, my specialty before regression.

    But.

    ...Pot!

    Vikir''s hand drew one more sharp trajectory, beyond the Baskerville Fourth.

    The Fifth Tooth. It was a little smaller and blunt, but it was definitely a fifth tooth.

    Baskerville Fifth.

    And there it was, in Vikir''s hands, unsteadily recreated!

    "...in the world."

    Vikir repeated the gesture he had just made several times.

    The result: sess.

    The trajectory of the sword was not quite right, given the child''s small hands and short arms, but it was there nheless.

    The fifth tooth was growing.

    "... where''s the knife?"

    If I had a knife right now, I would have tried to aura it.

    But it''s unlikely there''s a knife in the library.

    But that doesn''t mean I can''t unleash Beelzebub from his slumber in the artery of my wrist.

    Well, whatever.

    I was so happy it almost brought tears to my eyes.

    Something burning in my chest, rising to the top of my lungs.

    Vikir desperately tried to calm this overwhelming feeling.

    "Now, as long as I have the mana to support me, I can definitely ascend to the level of my previous life.

    In terms of swordsmanship alone, he had already mastered something much stronger and more refined than his previous life.

    His swordsmanship was not limited to the fifth level, but could be enhanced to the tenth level, so his future possibilities were endless.

    Vikir closed his eyes and checked the mana in his body.

    The mana hall that had been erged by the Styx River was still slowly umting mana.

    Although it was impossible to determine the exact level of his cultivation, it was clear that his cultivation had risen to the next level.

    "...Graduator!

    Vikir jumped from Sword Expert to Graduator.

    With the ability to create a liquid aura at the tip of their des, Graduators are a step up from Sword Expert.

    Instead of just the tip, Graduator can envelop the entire de in an aura that is liquid, dense, and quite malleable in shape.

    When the liquid aura de of a Graduator collides with the gaseous aura de of a Sword Expert, the result is as clear as water vapor colliding with water.

    Graduators arebatants whose physical prowess exceeds human limits.

    Their strength is the measure of a House''s prestige and, by implication, the Empire''s military might.

    Vikir reached this level at the age of 30 before his regression.

    ...After the regression, Vikir is now only 8 years old.

    That''s a huge step up from where he was before.

    A level that most swordsmen can only dream of reaching in their lifetime.

    As a mage, he''s probably on par with a fourth-circle master.

    Perhaps in the entirety of the Baskerville family''s nearly one hundred years of existence, there would be no one else of his age who had achieved this level of aplishment.

    " ... Moreover. The atmosphere of swordy has definitely changed."

    The sword technique that Vikir had been using before was the ''Stabbing Fang'' sword technique, which was basically what the hounds of the Baskervilles were trained in.

    Stabbing Fang Sword Technique. Four of them.

    Vikir had pierced through countless defenses with his four fangs, piercing the enemy''s heart like an awl.

    Still, the stabbing fang swordsmanship was risky.

    While you can quickly be strong enough to be useful inbat, there are clear limits to your growth.

    In exchange for the certainty of killing your opponent, you also took a lot of risks.

    It is this ''stabbing fang'' swordsmanship that is best taught to hounds for use as a discard card.

    However, there is something different about the swordsmanship Vikir has learned this time.

    It''s called the Lurking Ambush, and it''s sinister and painful, moving slowly and without revealing its power or aggression.

    The melody of the sword seems graceful and dignified, as if nothing is going on.

    But underneath it all lies a malicious intent to inflict the worst pain on the opponent.

    Once you''ve seeded in stabbing, you''ll be met with an unrelenting barrage of brutalbo attacks that will make you feel like you''d be better off dead.

    A frenzied onught, while still being able to protect yourself, is the perfect swordsmanship of this whole style, the Lurking Ambush.

    "Perfect for hiding power."

    Vikir muttered quietly.

    At first nce, the Lurking Ambush Strike bore a striking resemnce to a stabbing fang.

    So it shouldn''t be too difficult to hide their swordsmanship.

    After all, it''s called ''ambush'' in the first ce.

    Vikir nced around, making sure that no one was watching.

    His heart was pounding with the exhration of reaching a higher level.

    Buzzing.

    The sound of a fly''s wings in his ears.

    I nce down at my wrist and see Beelzebub pointing the tip of a ck awl at me.

    "Get in there."

    Vikir scolded, not daring to show his teeth.

    On the other hand, he was coldly calcting how much this Beelzebub would affect his current performance.

    Vikir van Baskerville.

    Age 8.

    A swordsmanship that can reliably reveal four teeth, and an aura that has materialized to the level of a thin substance, could be said to be at the beginning of the Graduator.

    Combine that with the experience of a lifetime of battle, a fifth tooth that can be drawn unsteadily, and the power of the magic sword Beelzebub, which can absorb the skills of monsters, and you''ve got yourself a force to be reckoned with.

    ''If I put my mind to it, I should be able to take on an intermediate Graduator somehow.

    A 100% chance of assassination, a 50% chance of hand-to-handbat.

    "...The question is, how far do you reveal your skills?"

    Who''s going to believe you when you say you''re a Graduator at just 8 years old?

    It would be foolish to show off your skills.

    In the real world, you''re supposed to keep 30% of your power hidden.

    "...."

    Vikir paused for a moment to consider the appropriate behavior for an eight-year-old child.

    It didn''t take him long toe up with an answer.

    Just enough to build up Hugo''s anticipation, but not so much as to put his enemies on edge.

    You don''t have to hide your power and live in fear.

    Rather, it''s the right amount of power that gives you a chance to slip under Hugo''s radar.

    "A provincial assignment, for example, or a ce at the Academy.

    As soon as Vikir leaves the library, he will have to report his findings to Hugo.

    And he''s already done the calctions on how he''s going to pose on the proof table.

    And now.

    Vikir took a pair of reading magnifiers from his pocket and stared at the window for a long time.

    Tsutsutsutsuts...

    The cover of the ''Lurking Ambush'' swordsmanship manual gradually turned ck under the harsh light of the magnifying ss.

    Crackle!

    Soon, embers.

    Vikir stares down at the burning book.

    With that, the sword book that contained the ten Baskerville forms was gone from this world forever.

    It remained only in Vikir''s mind.

    In the distance, he heard servants scurrying about.

    "What is that smell!"

    "Sniff, sniff, grab and go!"

    "It''s not even under a preservation spell, ugh!"

    The servants rushed over with buckets of water and were met by an apologetic Vikir.

    "Sorry. I left my magnifying ss everywhere.... If it''s something that must be reported, I''ll be sure to tell the butler."

    The servants waved their hands in dismissal.

    "Ah, well, that''s not something for the Master to apologize for."

    "It''s our fault for not keeping you straight."

    "At least it''s a good thing you''re in a ce with a bunch of janitors, hehe."

    The servants seemed to take note of the ''if it must be reported'' part of Vikir''s words.

    Vikir looked at the ashes on the floor.

    "Well, it wasn''t worth much, so I suppose it''s better to pretend it never happened, and as you all know, the butler is quite busy these days with the ruby mine dispute with the Morg family, so who has time for such a trivial matter?"

    The servants nodded eagerly at that.

    "Aha! Yes, that''s what I thought."

    "Well, we lowlifes always want to make our masters feelfortable."

    "As long as you look the other way, we''re fine."

    Even they are d to be spared the annoying report.

    "I see. I''m afraid I''m going to have a lot of work to do cleaning up the library, but I''ll make sure the burned books are filled with appropriate transcriptions since I remember the contents."

    Vikir made sure to finish and turned away.

    "You are a good man. You''ve thought of the servants, and I''m sure others will enjoy this tale."

    "Huh! Hey, you''re supposed to tell them about the book!"

    "Just praise him, he''s nice and impressive!

    My hearing has be more acute as I''ve gotten better.

    I could hear the servants chattering softly behind me, but I didn''t pay much attention.

    He needed to rehearse how he would respond to Hugo''s summons as soon as he left the library.

 Chapter 18: Bared Teeth (1)

    <h4>Chapter 18: Bared Teeth (1)</h4>

    "So. Did you have a bad day?"

    Hugo Les Baskerville.

    He summoned Vikir to his office as he emerged from his study.

    He had cleared his schedule to the point of waiting for Vikir''s arrival, and he was obviously looking forward to it.

    Aside from his first and second sons, Vikir had never seen him care so much about his children.

    But that''s no reason to get carried away or panic. The old Vikir had been almost as old as Hugo now.

    "A little bit."

    "Ho-ho."

    Hugo''s eyes light up.

    He''s only been in the library for a day, and he can''t possibly have gained anything.

    Most of the other Baskervilles his age are just getting their feet wet with mana and haven''t even had a chance to y a real game yet.

    Under such circumstances, what could a child of only eight years of age possibly get out of seeing a high-level sword book?

    But Hugo looked at the son in front of him, whose birth he didn''t even know, with an unexined sense of anticipation that even he didn''t know the source of.

    "What did you feel and understand in the library?"

    "...It was, um... warm, and... pointy, and... sharp, and... squishy, and... squishy? Something like that?"

    "...."

    Hugo ran a hand through his hair for a moment.

    A child''s answer is always hard to understand.

    But could it be the intuition of a master? Hugo suddenly understood something in Vikir''s string of words.

    "...No way."

    Hugo shook his head weakly, even as he muttered to himself.

    Aura.

    A sign that one had truly entered the world of swords.

    A realm that no ordinary swordsman could enter, not even in death.

    A level that even the prodigies of Ironde Baskerville could only reach at the age of fifteen by training nonstop.

    That is the realm of the ''Sword Expert Beginner''.

    Hugo frowned once more.

    A child of only eight years old. What was he expecting now?

    And yet.

    Hugo couldn''t take his eyes off his son''s magical face in front of him.

    What if.

    The anticipation of what might be made Hugo impatient and forced him to open his mouth.

    " ...Can you show this father what it is?"

    All humans in Baskerville are reluctant to reveal their true prowess to one another.

    It''s almost instinctive, even among parents and siblings.

    That''s why Hugo chooses a cautious tone, even when dealing with his 8-year-old son.

    But Hugo''s worries are dispersed so easily by Bikir''s cheerful answer.

    "Of course."

    Baskerville Street''s performance hall.

    A small child stands alone in the center of this wide-open in, surrounded by a crowd of people.

    Vikir''s eyes are closed as he holds a short sword long enough to match his size.

    When Hugo decides to test Vikir''s level, a crowd of people flock to the stage to watch the spectacle.

    "Did he say he was underwater for eight minutes in the Styx?"

    "Well, he strangled two venomous snakes in their cradles."

    "And for this practical, he''s captured a Cerberus."

    Surprisingly, Hugo didn''t deter the onlookers.

    He just stares at Vikir in the center of the stage.

    Butler Barrymore, standing beside Hugo, asked.

    "My lord. How do you n to test the Master''s skills?"

    " ...I n to pit him against a proper monster."

    Hugo was cold to the core.

    To unleash a monster against a mere eight-year-old.

    Next. Vikir''s opponent arrived.

    The creature brought by the Guardian Knights was arge, green-skinned monster.

    <Orc>

    Danger Rating: C

    Size: 2 meters

    Found in: Enemies and the ck Mountains Valley

    A species designated as a pseudo-humanoid due to its human-like appearance and intelligence.

    Due to their strong bodies, low intelligence, and excellent fertility, they live in groups and are no less dangerous than barbarians.

    Orc. A demonic creature withbat strengthparable to that of four or five unarmed adult men.

    Their entire bodies are made up of lean muscle, and they are naturally strong, immune, and resilient.

    Captured alive by Baskerville, this orc was ready to hate and rage against the entire world, as he had once been a member of a warlike tribe.

    The people around him began to murmur.

    "Hmm. To say the least, an orc is a bit.... for an 8-year-old."

    "If it''s an orc, you''d have to be at least 15 years old to deal with it."

    "Well, if there''s still time, the guardian knights will step in."

    Even if they were Ironblooded Baskervillians, most of them didn''t understand this matchup.

    "...."

    But Hugo didn''t say anything, and the match went ahead.

    And then.

    ...ng!

    The orc was freed from his restraints and released into the center of the arena.

    Pushed back by the spears and swords of the Guardian Knights, the orc made his way to the center, drooling, teeth and gums bared.

    There stood Vikir, sword in hand.

    [Kaaaah!]

    The orc lunged at Vikir with both hands open.

    An eight-year-old child, an easy kill, and it caught him off guard.

    But Vikir ducks low and avoids the orc''s two hands.

    It was a skillful move, exploiting the difference in weight and height.

    "Huh?"

    Hugo''s eyes widen in amusement. The other Baskervilles'' gazes were simrly amused.

    But before the surprise could sink in, Vikir connected with his next move.

    Bam!

    He spun around, sword in hand.

    He may be an 8-year-old child, but he weighs a lot.

    Vikir''s full weight was on the de, and it sliced right through the orc''s wrist.

    [Grrrrr!?]

    The orc didn''t realize what had happened for a moment.

    It''s understandable, as the opponent in front of him suddenly disappeared, and his wrist was sliced off.

    But before he could realize it, the next reality hit him hard.

    After slicing off the orc''s wrist and slipping out from under his groin, Vikir proceeded to cut off his ankle as well.

    Thud!

    By the time the orc realizes that his wrists have been cut off, his ankles have been sliced off and he''s fallen to the ground.

    A silence falls around them.

    Everyone in Baskerville stared wide-eyed.

    "... He''s eight years old?"

    "How is that guy physically strong? He looks like an old man."

    "I can''t believe he can do that without raising his mana. What was I doing at that age...."

    The number of people surrounding the performance hall grows by the moment.

    Even the guardian knights and servants havee to watch.

    But.

    "...."

    Hugo is the only one who remains speechless.

    Of course, Vikir understood Hugo''s reaction.

    ''You haven''t shown me what you''ve uncovered in the library yet, I suppose.''

    ''What you just did to the orc''s wrists and ankles was really just physical.''

    I haven''t even shown you what I learned in the library yet.

    And now.

    Vikir took a deep breath and flicked his sword lightly.

    It''s a fairly heavy short sword for a child, but in Vikir''s hands, it swings like a puppy dog.

    As if that weren''t amazing enough, Vikir pulled off another astonishing move.

    ...Pow!

    The tip of the de glows faintly.

    Everyone in Baskerville, realizing the identity of the light, gasped in unison.

    "Aura Sword!"

    The gaseous aura that symbolized the Sword Expert.

    It was emanating from the tip of Vikir''s sword like a ghostly fire.

    The aura crackled as if blood was being burned for firewood.

    An emblem of the Baskervilles, a concentration of life force.

    The orc instinctively recoils in fear and backs away.

    He tries to heal the wounds on his wrists and ankles with the orc''s unique skill, Rapid Regeneration.

    <Binge Fly ''Beelzebub''> / Awl

    -1 slot: Burn �C Cerberus (A+)

    -2 slot: Bleed �C Hellhound (B+)

    Slot -3: Fast Regeneration �C Norvegicus (F)

    Unfortunately, due to the power of Beelzebub within Vikir''s body, this was not possible.

    The Hellhound''s Bleed skill overpowered the Orc''s Rapid Regeneration skill.

    Now the Orc would feel the full mortal force of the Hellhound''s teeth.

    Shallow, minor wounds that would normally not bleed will surely draw blood in time, and will bleed for much longer than normal.

    If you slit your wrist or ankle, it''s a guarantee.

    Gulp...gulp...gulp...gulp...

    The blood on the shortsword slowly disappears.

    The Shortsword, imbued with the power of Beelzebub, lusted after the Orc''s blood like a greedy monkfish, and the Orc was forced to offer it up as tribute over and over again, unable to resist.

    And in that situation.

    Boom!

    Vikir''s sword swung.

    And all those gathered in the ballroom saw.

    A single, ghastly fang emerging from thin air.

    The first ceremony of Baskerville.

    A single ''stabbing fang'' appeared and sank deep into the nape of the orc''s neck.

    Naturally, the orc''s breathing was instantly cut off.

    With the agony of burning in hell.

    Vikir disyed the kind of innocence one might expect from a 15-year-old in Baskerville.

    Naturally, words were spoken around him.

    "Crazy. I didn''t even feel mana when I was eight."

    "I could barely form a ball of mana in the palm of my hand."

    "That kid looks like a perfect Expert Beginner, holy sh*t, is that even possible?"

    Eight years old, when the youngest Sword Expert ever was 14.

    This was unheard of even in Baskerville, a ce of sword geniuses.

    Butler Barrymore said with a mixture of shock and amusement.

    "...co, congrattions, my lord. A rare genius has emerged, a blessing for the family."

    "...Hmm."

    Hugo nodded, expressionless.

    But Barrymore looked. The corner of Hugo''s mouth, hidden beneath his mustache, twitched upward.

    He could never get enough of his child''s praise, so he chimed in a little more.

    "An orc who can fight four or five full-grown men and not be overpowered. My God, an eight-year-old killing an orc like that with such ease. No family in the empire will ever have such a genius again..."

    "Hmph. Enough, butler."

    Hugo interrupted Barrymore as if he were a stranger.

    Then he opened his mouth with an ufortable expression.

    "Apparently, the orcs are a little strange."

    "What?"

    "Orcs are characterized by great regenerative powers, but that guy just lost a lot of blood. A sudden loss of blood inrge quantities inevitably dulls them. Was that Vikir guy''s sword poisoned or something?"

    "Ah, that''s unlikely, it''s just an ordinary sword that was checked and handed over by the Guardian Knights."

    "Hmph. Then the orc must have been weakened a lot."

    The man was never one to takepliments lightly.

    Barrymore smiled faintly and shrugged.

    "Whatever. It was true that Baskerville had a rare genius on its hands.

    A young warrior who, at the tender age of eight, had be a perfect Sword Expert beginner.

    When everyone, including Hugo, was quite surprised by this aplishment.

    "Wait a minute."

    Vikir caught everyone''s attention.

    Hugo started to turn away, but stopped and looked at Vikir.

    Their gazes locked together.

    Vikir spoke in a low voice.

    "Is there anything bigger than an orc?"

    He asks and doubles back.

 Chapter 19: Bared Teeth (2)

    <h4>Chapter 19: Bared Teeth (2)</h4>

    A rare prodigy in Baskerville.

    A young warrior who became a perfect Sword Expert beginner at the age of only eight.

    "Is there anything bigger than an orc?"

    Vikir''s words caused the training center to heat up.

    The members of House Baskerville are basically a cold people who don''t care about other people, except for one thing: when ites to battle, they''re always interested.

    That was true even for the cold-blooded Hugo.

    "...hmm."

    Hugo began to think.

    Watching him, Vikir thought to himself.

    "It''s better to show power in moderation.

    It wasn''t that he hadn''t thought about it.

    If anything, it would be less rming for Hugo to see his achievements at a very young age.

    Showing promise at a young age would also give him an excuse to stay off Hugo''s radar.

    Such as being sent to the backcountry or studying in the Imperial capital.

    ''... Or, perhaps, admission to the Academy.

    The third hand was an unwee one, so he put it on hold, shaking his head to clear his thoughts.

    It was time to focus on the here and now.

    Hugo, meanwhile, was done thinking.

    "Bikir has a point. You''re at the age where you need to get your hands dirty."

    It wasn''t the right thing to say to an eight-year-old, but it made sense, at least within Baskerville.

    Hugo continued.

    "It seems that the orcs from far away are not good enough for my son''s castle. Are there higher beasts in your family''s foraging grounds?"

    You''d think they''d find a better bug in the bug bowl.

    But in the Baskervilles'' collection, every single one of them is an abomination.

    They''re no match for an eight-year-old.

    Knowing this, no one, including Deacon Barrymore, speaks easily.

    Hugo, unable to bear the silence, spoke first.

    "Come to think of it, isn''t there an object that you captured as an experiment when you were exterminating the barbarians?"

    "Yes, .... There is only one left."

    Deacon Barrymore answered matter-of-factly.

    Hugo smirked.

    "It must be weak from not being fed for so long."

    "Ha, but they''ll be just as fierce, I''m afraid, and not much of an opponent for one who''s just turned eight years old...."

    "Well, if he does, the Guardian Knights will stop him, and that''s the least of the butler''s worries."

    Hugo waved his hand dismissively at Deacon Barrymore''s concern.

    His deliberation was brief, his decision even shorter.

    Soon, the Guardian Knights were pulling Vikir''s opponent from the depths of the cer.

    Thump, thump, thump, thump.

    The earth shook faintly.

    Then, a gigantic creature began to emerge, wearing a variety of heavy cuffs and restraints.

    It had a short neck, two arms and legs, grotesquely twisted teeth, weighed over 400 kilograms, and stood four meters tall.

    <Troll

    Danger Rating: C

    Size: 4 meters

    Found in: Red and ck Mountains, Ridge 2

    -A cannibal with a massive physique and a vicious mind. They are mostly responsible for the disappearance of Huazhen people who enter the mountains.

    Possessing inscrutable regenerative powers, they do not understand the concept of mortal wounds and never die unless their throats arepletely severed.

    A green-skinned giant goblin.

    Sticky saliva oozes from its severed gums, torn lips, and protruding fangs.

    [Grrrrr-grrrrrr!]

    The troll rattled the chains and heavy lead weights around his neck, wrists, and ankles.

    It looked like it had been starving for a very long time.

    "...."

    Vikir squinted at the troll in front of him.

    Then, as soon as the troll stepped out into the center of the smoke screen. The hunt was on.

    The pot.

    Vikir lunged at it, short sword at the ready.

    Hugo and several of the older Baskervilles looked on in amazement as he showed no sign of fear.

    And then.

    Boom.

    The troll''s arm iled.

    Vikir ducked low, dodging the troll''s fist and digging into the blind spot in his side.

    Time to deliver the killing blow!

    But.

    Wham!

    Vikir didn''t actually stab the troll in the side.

    He simply walked past him and reset his stance.

    Hugo smirked.

    "Good call."

    Zagoro trolls are highly regenerative, able to heal from wounds to their nks and stomachs.

    It''s a waste of energy unless you''re trying to hit them where it''s going to hurt, which is why Vikir didn''t bother trying to pick their holes.

    Thud, thud, thud, thud.

    The troll continued to attack Vikir.

    They pounded the ground with their fists and stomped their feet.

    Normally, an 8-year-old Baskerville would have been overwhelmed by the sight of these attacks, and would have made a series of mistakes, but... Vikir was different.

    "It''s slow, so there''s no tension.

    An old soldier who had spent thest forty years on the battlefield. There''s no way he could lose hisposure under this kind of pressure. It''s harder to hold back a yawn.

    Vikir had been dodging the trolls'' attacks with a rxed demeanor.

    In fact, it was the trolls who were losing health with each rampage.

    The seasoned Baskervilles watched in amazement.

    "You''re trying to drain the troll''s strength? That''s amazing."

    "Is he really eight years old? I can''t believe it."

    "Heh, heh, heh, I never thought I''d see such an ahae in my family. Live long and see."

    Vikir''s judgment is always spot-on, and he follows the best route.

    The troll grows increasingly unruly as he struggles with the heavy restraints.

    But he is rapidly losing his reserves of health.

    Its attacks became less urate and its speed even slower. The patterns were bing simpler and simpler.

    Vikir watched the troll''s self-destructive demeanor, waiting for the one moment that would decide the game.

    And then.

    Grrrrr!

    The troll began to lunge at him, throwing his whole body at him.

    Viktor realized it was time to move out of the way and quickly jumped forward.

    The body of an eight-year-old child can dodge a troll''s attacks, but it can''t kill a troll.

    Not even a genius.

    That wasmon knowledge, and Vikir knew it well.

    If he unleashed his hidden powers, he might be able to kill a troll, but that wouldplicate matters greatly.

    So Vikir had been waiting for this moment to kill the troll, to make it as easy as possible.

    Quack, quack, quack!

    The troll lunges, and Vikir uses the momentum to his advantage.

    Vikir uses the momentum of the troll''s heavy body to thrust his de in from the opposite direction, cutting through the toughyers of leather and muscle and severing the nerve bundles in its neck.

    And then.

    ...Whoosh!

    A faint gaseous aura emanates from the tip of Vikir''s de.

    It''s the same one that wowed everyone in the orc battle earlier.

    Kiririk-

    Vikir''s aura formed a distinctive tooth-like shape and flew straight for the troll''s throat.

    Pow!

    One sharp fang sank deep into the troll''s neck.

    In the next instant, Vikir twisted his body and slipped through the gap between the troll''s sides, instantly sting a gaping hole in the troll''s neck.

    "Oooooh!"

    Everyone watching gasped in amazement.

    Bikir''s seasoned battlefield experience was disguised as genius here.

    ... but.

    [Grrrrrrrr!]

    The troll was not dead.

    He jammed his fist into the hole in his neck and grunted as he tended to the wound.

    A faint sigh escaped from the onlookers.

    "Oh, no. I guess one baskerville isn''t enough for a troll."

    "It''s definitely a little harder with a gaseous aura."

    "It''s a shame, but it''s still a monumental feat for an eight-year-old to have gotten this far."

    Baskerville 1 meal. You can''t catch a troll with one tooth.

    Vikir knew that already.

    True, with Beelzebub''s ability to bleed, the troll would die a natural death in time, but... there was no point in winning that way.

    "That''s enough. Any more could be dangerous, so let''s stop here...."

    Hugo raised his hand to stop the fight.

    "Restraints."

    Vikir opened his mouth.

    "Release the restraints."

    At those words, the faces of all the Baskervilles stiffened.

    Unshackling a troll, at this point?

    "...."

    "...."

    "...."

    All eyes turned to Vikir and Hugo.

    "...."

    Even the mighty Hugo was dumbfounded.

    Then, slowly, his mouth opened.

    "My son, you have already proven your worth. It is the mark of a swordsman to walk away when he is satisfied."

    The tone was stern. All of the Baskervilles were surprised by Hugo''s demeanor, something they had never seen before.

    But the surprise was short-lived, as Vikir''s words drew everyone''s attention back to him.

    "We''re almost there, and if I don''t kill you on the next strike, I''ll end it cleanly."

    A deration of war.

    Vikir''s words startled all the Baskervilles, including Hugo.

    How on earth were they going to take down this troll whose tenacity was unmatched?

    "...."

    Hugo fell silent. The signal to resume the battle.

    [Caw! Caw! Caw!]

    The trolls rampaged.

    Several of the Guardian Knights stepped out of the way of the troll''s rampage, removed the cuffs and chains, and led him back out into the open.

    Then. The troll, nowpletely free, pushed himself to his feet.

    His eyes, red and bloodshot, no longer even pupils.

    [He-ahhhhhh!]

    With a guttural roar, the troll lunged at Vikir with all its might.

    But Vikir could only stare coldly at the troll.

    "How far should I show my power?

    The question had already been answered earlier in the evening.

    ...Pow!

    The tip of Vikir''s short sword glows a little brighter than before.

    Some of the veterans recognized it immediately. The density of Vikir''s aura had changed.

    But there was no time to wonder about it, as Vikir continued with his next move.

    Kiririk- Karak!

    The tip of the de shed towards the charging troll. Fangs clearly visible.

    The troll breaking free of its restraints, running even faster, and the force of the reaction even stronger.

    And then.

    ...Poof!

    The troll is faster and stronger than before, and the tip of the de is thrust back into his body, faster and stronger than before.

    And then.

    There were two teeth sinking into the troll''s neck this time.

    The first tooth ripped a hole in the troll''s neck.

    And a second tooth, smaller and fainter, but clearly visible, biting ferociously into the side of the troll''s neck.

    Baskerville Two-Thirds.

    And Sword Expert Intermediate.

    ...! ...! ...! ...! ...!

    All the Baskervilles, including Hugo, stand in ce with their mouths agape.

    ...thud!

    The troll behemoth, decapitated, fell to his knees on the ground.

 Chapter 20: Morg Camus (1)

    <h4>Chapter 20: Morg Camus (1)</h4>

    Ten men have ten lives, a hundred men have a hundred lives.

    A person''s life is unique and cannot be measured by a single form.

    But.

    In Baskerville, the Ironborn, a person''s life can be schematized and organized like a form.

    A typical form is as follows

    Sword Expert junior = 1 mage circle.

    Sword Expert Intermediate = 2 Mage Circles

    Sword Expert Advanced = Mage 3 circles

    Graduator Low = Mage 4 circles

    Graduator Intermediate = Mage 5 circles

    Graduator Advanced = Mage 6 circles

    Swordmaster = Wizard 7th circle

    Sword mastery has been reced by magical mastery.

    In addition, the young hounds of Baskerville are not allowed to eat at an age when others would.

    Their training is grueling, with every moment a firing squad.

    In the process of digesting them, they usually go through a series of schematic growth spurts.

    To reformte it, it goes like this

    Sword Expert Lower = 15 years old

    Sword Expert Intermediate=18 years old

    Sword Expert Advanced=20 years old

    Gradient Lower = 30

    Gradient Intermediate=35

    Gradualtor Advanced=40

    Swordmaster=?

    Most young hounds of House Baskerville progress ording to the following form.

    Children of House Baskerville typically first be in touch with mana around the age of seven or eight, at which point they can, at best, concentrate it in their hands and feel its warmth.

    It''s not until around age 15 that they can truly channel mana into a sword and emit an aura.

    This is called the lower level of Sword Expert.

    Most members of the Baskerville family learn a sword technique called the Baskerville Style, which is divided into three levels: first, second, and third ....

    It starts with Baskerville 1, which is the level where you can draw a single tooth with the trajectory of the de tip, then Baskerville 2, where you can draw two teeth, and then 3, 4, and 5, where you can draw three teeth....

    Considering that most 15-year-old Baskervilles who reach the rank of Sword Expert are trained in Baskerville 1 swordy, the following form is established

    Sword Expert Low = 1 Baskerville, 1 Tooth

    Sword Expert Intermediate = Baskerville 2, two teeth

    Sword Expert Advanced = 3 Baskerville, 3 Teeth

    Gradator Low = 4 Baskerville, 4 Teeth

    Gradient Intermediate = 5 Baskerville, 5 Teeth

    Gradator Adv = 6 Baskerville, 6 Teeth

    Swordmaster=7th Baskerville, 7 teeth

    However, the elite of the elite are those who can master more than five styles of swordsmanship.

    That is, only the true heirs of the House.

    It is no secret that the current patriarch, Hugo Les Baskervilles, can draw the Seven Teeth.

    It is also no secret that his eldest son, now away on assignment in the far reaches of the country, can draw five teeth, and his second son, now in training, can draw four.

    On the other hand, those with "van" surnames, such as bastards and illegitimate children, who are not recognized as legitimate, cannot learn more than five sword techniques, no matter how much mana they have umted or how old they are.

    As a result, there is a definite limit to the number of teeth they can draw, even when they be a Gradient.

    But no one isining about this.

    No one. None. None. None.

    For the swordsmanship of the Baskervilles was so great, and the mastery of the four styles was enough to make the world tremble.

    ...But.

    There is.

    Even within the great Baskervilles, there are Irregrs who asionally deviate from the form.

    The bad ones are the hounds that don''t follow the formalized progression and fall through the cracks.

    These were nothing special, really. They were disposed of on the spot.

    Those who die in training and disappear into the experience of their brothers, those who die or go missing on a mission and be nothing more than numbers on a damage report, those who are assassinated for family interests, and those who are rarely soldiers....

    The casualties of the Baskervilles are many, but they be fewer with each passing year.

    The older they get, the more seasoned they be.

    However.

    There are few, if any, Irregrs who deviate from the form in a somewhat different way.

    Even within the Baskervilles, a family of geniuses, there are those who are recognized as geniuses.

    Such was the case with Osiris Les Baskervilles, Hugo Les Baskervilles'' eldest son and head of household.

    A little sunshine who will lead the Baskervilles in the future. A genius, by all ounts.

    Until now, Osiris has been the greatest genius in the family.

    Buttely, a rumor has been spreading.

    A mother-of-pearl cloud floating in the infant star. A tiny sun that floated beneath the sun.

    Rumors circted within the family that another genius had emerged to seed Osiris Baskerville.

    Vikir van Baskerville. Eight years old.

    A prodigy who, ording to the patriarch himself, Hugo L�� Baskerville, recently reached the rank of Sword Expert Intermediate.

    A swordsmanship that could draw two teeth and a mana that would be two circles in mage terms.

    He has perfected at the tender age of eight what his siblings would have to wait until they were eighteen to aplish.

    So much so, that whenever three or more of them got together, even the most disinterested of Baskervilles, they were talking about Vikir.

    "...Yes, you mean there''s such a kid?"

    "Where''s he from? Is it the van''s surname? Hmm, so we don''t even know where it came from."

    "Well, it''s worth keeping, if not, then early...."

    He listened with interest, or indifference, sometimes weighing his own interests.

    And with that, Vikir had already bared his sharp fangs.

    Meanwhile.

    "Stupid people.

    Vikir himself, the subject of the rumor, was not concerned with the gaze or reputation of those around him.

    He already knew where the family''s power struggles and dirty tricks were headed.

    How could he not? He had spent thest few decades as a dog dealer, bouncing from one line to the next.

    ...Chulpuduk! Chulpuduk!

    Vikir thought as he watched the haggis fall to the table.

    ''I was only going to show two teeth anyway, I''ve had enough of this.''

    Now that we''ve clearly exposed the true colors, we may be able to utilize some of the House''s infrastructure on our own.

    As I''ve said before, it''s good to be recognized in moderation if you want to make sure you stay off Hugo''s radar.

    Vikir sat in the far corner of the dining room and began to nibble at his haggis.

    As the salty, fishy gruel slides down his throat, he thinks about many things.

    First, about her true skill set.

    "Currently, my official skills are Baskerville 2nd ss and Sword Expert Intermediate."

    However, Vikir''s true strength is already at the level of a Graduator Low, and in terms of swordsmanship, a Fourth Teeth Baskerville.

    With his profound cultivation in the Great Library, he is on the verge of reaching Intermediate Graduator.

    If he continues on this path, he should be able to break through to the fifth level of swordsmanship without difficulty.

    "I''ll reach the upper Graduator before I turn 17.

    By then, my swordsmanship will be able to reach the Sixth Form. Unlike before the regression, when you were stuck at just four.

    What''s more.

    ...Wiggle!

    The spoon that was unwrapping the haggis suddenly flinched.

    Beelzebub, lurking in the artery of his right wrist, had moved.

    <Binge Fly ''Beelzebub''> / Awl

    -1 slot: Burn �C Cerberus (A+)

    -2 slot: Bleed �C Hellhound (B+)

    Slot -3: Super Regeneration �C Troll (C+)

    Beelzebub removes the Rats from slot 3 and fills the void by taking the skills of the recently killed Troll.

    His opponent was bleeding, he was regenerating. It was a terriblebination.

    Add this ability to the mix, and he''d probably be even more formidable than the average Graduator.

    Vikir thought to himself as he continued to devour his haggis.

    It was his sixth serving already, and he felt that his appetite had only grown stronger since absorbing Beelzebub.

    Then.

    "... Hey, hey."

    A voice called out from behind him, and Vikir turned his head.

    "?"

    Unexpected figures stood behind him.

    The triplets. Highbrow Les Baskervilles, Midbrow Les Baskervilles, and Lowbrow Les Baskervilles.

    The trio that woulde to be known as the Trident of Baskerville stood behind Vikir.

    Vikir''s brow furrowed.

    "Look at these as*holes?"

    Why bother asking? The harsh wordse right out.

    Vikir narrowed his eyes, and the triplets instinctively reacted with fear.

    Is there anything in the world easier to handle than a frightened dog?

    Vikir clutched the spoon he was using to scoop up the haggis, and the triplets immediately waved it away.

    "Oh, no, not that one!"

    "We just want...!"

    "That, that, that, that, that, catching the troll and Cerberus was cool!"

    ...?

    Viktor frowned, not realizing what was going on.

    "Is this a two-faced tactic or some kind of trick?

    But looking at the trio in front of me, I don''t see any signs of advanced psychological warfare.

    As I stare at them, I can''t help but feel a chill run down my spine.

    ...Boom!

    Vikir had just finished preparing to send a spoon flying toward the foreheads of the three puppies.

    "Master."

    Another voice came from beside him.

    He turned to see Butler Barrymore standing at attention.

    He had appeared out of nowhere and addressed Vikir in his usual polite tone.

    "My lord seeks you."

    Hugo Les Baskerville.

    He was now seated on a couch by the window in a state of great irritation.

    "Is the butler here yet?"

    The maid inclined her head groggily at Hugo''s question in search of Barrymore.

    "I looked under the window and it looked like they were justing into the lobby on the first floor, with Master Vikir."

    "They should being up any minute now."

    Hugo nodded, then shifted his gaze to the side of the couch.

    On the couch next to it sat a middle-aged man with a handsome mustache.

    Morg Adolf.

    A delegate from House Morg, a martial family known as the rival house of Ironblood Baskerville.

    The younger brother of Morg Respane, the head of House Morg, he is a key figure in House Morg, always present as the acting head of the house whenever there is an outside event.

    Adolf lifted the teacup in front of him and drank.

    Then he looked directly at Hugo with a wry smile.

    "I hope this year''s annual event goes off without a hitch."

    The annual event Adolf was referring to was the friendly tournament between Baskerville and Morg.

    The Morg and the Baskervilles train together once a year, in ordance with a decree from the previous Emperor, who said that "magic and swords areplementary.

    Though it was only for children between the ages of eight and fifteen, it was a show of force for the imperial family.

    Even then, the atmosphere was frosty, with Hugo, the current Lord of Baskerville, and Lespane, the current Lord of Morg, at odds over the ownership of a newly discovered ruby mine in the middle of their territory.

    It was in this atmosphere that Adolf, the younger brother of the Morg family, came to visit.

    The purpose of the visit is said to be to socialize through an annual event, but... it remains to be seen if that is really the case.

    Hugo shrugged it off.

    "It''s just a joint exercise, it''s always been that way."

    "Heh heh heh. Didn''t we have two children seriously injuredst year, one from Baskerville and one from Morg?"

    "They survived, and were treated in time. How can you call that a loss?"

    Hugo''s nonchnt words brought a line of blood to Adolf''s forehead.

    After a moment''s grimace, he coughed a few times and changed the subject.

    "Hmmm. Hum. So, let''s talk about this joint exercise, shall we? Oh, by the way!"

    Just as he was about to cut to the chase, Adolf had a sudden thought.

    "I heard that there''s a supernova over Baskerville, and I''d really like to see it, I''m looking forward to it."

    " ...I''m just calling it up now anyway."

    Hugo replied, feigning nonchnce.

    But the observant Adolf didn''t miss the slightest twitch of the corners of Hugo''s mouth.

    "That lizard man responds to his child''s praise. That''s unusual."

    It is a surprise in its own way. Adolf thought for a moment that he should go back and report to his lord, but then he continued.

    "It is a great blessing for the Empire to have a once in a hundred year genius in Baskerville."

    "I would not go so far as to say that."

    Hugo bowed, at least formally.

    However, Adolf''s next words were quite provocative.

    "Well, it''s a double whammy, actually, because we have a once in a hundred year genius in the Morg family."

    Hugo''s eyebrows shot up at that.

    Adolf smiled politely, then motioned toward the door to the parlor off to one side of the room.

    "Come in, little Camus," he said, "and say hello to the head of House Baskerville."

    Then, as if by magic, the door opened of its own ord.

    In walked a small girl, trailed by servants.

    Her hair ming red, her eyes sparkling like rubies.

    A fair face with a small nose, full lips, and white, even teeth.

    Morg Camus.

    The girl, who had just turned eight years old, walked over and stood beside Adolf without a trace of embarrassment.

    Hugo''s brow furrowed slightly.

    A supernova of the Morg family, born only once every hundred years or so.

    A girl who could hear the sound of genius even within the prestigious Morg, where only magical geniuses gathered.

    Morg Camus.

    The sight of her clutching at the hem of her uncle''s cloak, her eyes shining brightly, made even the mighty Hugo soften his expression a little.

    But cuteness aside, Adolf''s statement was quite provocative.

    "We also have an 8-year-old genius. Let''s see your level of eight-year-old genius.

    The Morg family hade to y.

    ''... Hey. You''re not worthy of such a flirtatious provocation.''

    Hugo tried to turn his head away as if he wasn''t worth the trouble.

    The Morg Camus bombshell pinned his head back.

    "Are you the thief who stole our ruby mine?"

 Chapter 21: Morg Camus (2)

    <h4>Chapter 21: Morg Camus (2)</h4>

    Camus dropped a bombshell.

    "Are you the thief who stole our ruby mine?"

    The 8-year-old girl''s bold question instantly froze the room.

    First, the servants of the two families stiffened on the spot.

    "...."

    "...."

    Even the mighty Morg Adolph stiffened in confusion.

    Hugo, too, remained silent, looking somewhat dazed.

    "What did I just hear?" is a thought that peeks through his poker face.

    The Baskervilles'' family room is silent, as if no living thing exists.

    The silence is broken once more by the camouge.

    "Give it back, Ruby Mine."

    The camouged creature strides forward and holds out a white palm in front of you.

    Hugo, meanwhile, was still dumbfounded by the re.

    He''d never heard anyone say that to his face before, and even more so when it came from an eight-year-old.

    Then. Adolf was the first to realize.

    "Hey, kid, what''s with the sudden rudeness?"

    "I told you earlier, Uncle, that this man stole our ruby mine."

    "Hey, hey, hey, rascal, when did I!"

    "Before you got out of the carriage. Starting this month, the number of research rubies paid to me will be reduced, and it''s all because of that stupid old mustached thief."

    "This, this, this, this rascal, me, when!?"

    "If you''re asking when, about an hour and forty-two minutes ago? Come on, I heard it clearly...."

    The camus gets a little sour.

    At this point, Adolf felt a cold sweat break out.

    He didn''t have to look away to realize it. The temperature in the room had dropped several degrees.

    "...hmm. An unfortunate mustached old man, and a thief?"

    A cold voice came from the front.

    Hugo turned to look at it, narrowing his eyes.

    Adolf pulled out his handkerchief, covered his mouth, and coughed.

    "Hmph. There seems to be a misunderstanding. I''ll be sure to clear that upter."

    "What does a puppy know? There is no need to exin to me the problem of the house education in the Morg."

    Hugo''s words were barbed, but he seemed to have already lost his temper.

    Adolph turned to the camus, thinking it was an usation.

    "Camus, what a rude thing to say to an elderly member of a friendly neighborhood family."

    "But what my uncle said...."

    "Even if the servants around you said something bad, you shouldn''t pass it on. There are many things in the rumor mill that are inted... well, there are many things that are diminished."

    Adolf and the camus turned to face each other.

    Suddenly, Hugo was starting to get annoyed with the whole situation.

    His mind shed back to Butler Barrymore''s report the other day.

    "First report. About the bloodshed with House Morg at the ruby mines on Red Mountain....''

    ''We''ll have a chance to discuss that soon enough. The Morg wille to me first.''

    The ruby mines were actually an old dispute.

    On the border between Baskerville and Morgue, the so-called ''Joint Security Zone'', there is a mine that pumps out high quality rubies.

    The problem is that the mine''s entrance is above ground on Morg''s territory, while the underground vein runs beneath Baskerville''s territory.

    Due to the angle of the vein, there is only one mining route that can be essed from the surface, and that is from the mine on Morg''s estate.

    However, mining along this vein will inevitably lead to digging beneath the Baskerville estate.

    <Imaginary view of Camus mine>

    As a result, the Morgue have been trying to find a way around this.

    The most tried and true is to secretly dig a tunnel and mine rubies.

    However, the Baskervilles'' hounds, with their keen sense of smell, picked up on the signs like ghosts and raided the Morg''s mines.

    There was bloodshed on several asions, but nothing was ever reported in public, so rtions between the two families remained good on the surface.

    Even though it was boiling over on the inside.

    And so it was that Morgue Adolf, who hade to discuss the friendlypetition today, was actually here to talk about the ruby mines and the bloodshed.

    So Hugo was prepared for that, too.....

    "I want my rubies back! I can''t do my research because I don''t have enough rubies!"

    Little did he know that an 8-year-old girl would be so insistent.

    Hugo put his hand to his forehead at her demand.

    "''Look at you, Adolf Governor. What kind of disgrace is this on an official visit?"

    "Uh-huh. Hmm. I apologize for this, my lord. But I''m afraid I''m at a loss for words, unless she''s saying something very wrong again."

    "...what?"

    "It''s the right thing to say, isn''t it, though it''s crudeing from a child''s mouth."

    Hugo and Adolf''s gazes met in unison.

    "...."

    "...."

    Hugo tried to channel the Swordmaster''s superhuman aura to pressure his intestines, but he was distracted by the camus that had stepped directly in front of....

    He tries to slow his momentum down enough to make the camus back off.

    "What do you think you''re doing to a child, the Sword Star of the Empire persecuting an eight-year-old girl?"

    That''s when Adolf''s pinzanes in.

    Adolf wrapped Camus in a cloak.

    And Hugo with a scowl on his face.

    It''s embarrassing for an adult to argue with an 8-year-old, but this Adolf guy keeps trying to exploit her innocence for political purposes.

    It was very annoying for Hugo.

    Should we reignite the ruby mine issue, which we''ve been silent about?

    For Baskerville, it''s a matter of pride, and for Morg, it''s a matter of business.

    In the first ce, rubies are more important to the Morg than to Baskerville, as they are used as a key ingredient in magical experiments.

    Hugo is a closed-minded man who doesn''t like to interact with other families, so he just wants to keep his mind off the ruby veins.

    Training hounds and navigating the ck mountains with enemies was enough to give him a headache, and he didn''t want to get into trouble with a bunch of kids who wanted to y magic with a red stone that was only used for women''s jewelry.

    "Give me back my ruby mine. Without the rubies from there, it''s hard for me to continue my studies."

    "Uh-huh, Camus, you''re talking about grown-ups, uh-huh, uh-huh."

    I can''t even stand to listen to the conversation between the girl named Camus and the guy named Adolf.

    ''No matter how you look at it, this is a political performance....''

    But since the other party is a child, I can''t say anything, and I can only boil inside.

    Even if the iron-blooded swordsman, who is in a position to recognize things, asks me to stop.

    ... right then.

    A voice made Hugo''s ears perk up.

    "Don''t they teach you not to covet what belongs to others in Morg?"

    A voice as cheerful and innocent as an 8-year-old camel.

    It was 8-year-old Vikir.

 Chapter 22: Morg Camus (3)

    <h4>Chapter 22: Morg Camus (3)</h4>

    "I guess the Morg don''t teach you not to envy what belongs to others?"

    Vikir''s words as he entered the chamber changed the mood once again.

    Adolf''s expression, which had been subtly amused, hardened.

    Camus also res at Vikir with an angry expression.

    Hugo, on the other hand, wore the same subtle expression that Adolf had been wearing all this time.

    "...."

    "...."

    A showdown between two self-respecting geniuses.

    The once-in-a-hundred-years supernovae of the two sides stare at each other in the center of the room.

    Vikir studied Morg Camus in front of him.

    Red hair, sparkling ruby eyes, a sharp nose, chubby cheeks, a few freckles, and an innocent expression.

    "Is this the Morg Camus I know?

    Her childhood face and her adult face ovep.

    If you take away the baby chub from that face, take away the haggardness, and add a few more years to it, you''ll see a face ... that Vikir knows.

    The Ironblood Empress of House Morg.

    She was known as the undisputed genius of Morg, a magical family that has produced many of the greatest mages in history.

    In addition to her magical prowess, she also possessed a stunning beauty that captivated the hearts of every man in her social circle, and she was skilled at using her beauty to her advantage.

    With a figure that could go in one ce ande out another, Camus could wrap even the highest ranking royalty in a skirt, making her the embodiment of power.

    He did not hesitate to marry for convenience several times, and each time the prestige of the House of Morg greatly increased.

    In her prime, when she ruled as the Lord Chancellor, she ughtered countless demons and barbarians in the Red and ck Mountains, skewering them and burning them with fire to establish a border of blood and ashes.

    In herter years, she was referred to by the enormous title of "Heavenly Empress".

    "Dude, what did you just say?"

    ... But that''s in the distant future. For now, he''s just an eight-year-old kid.

    The Camus asked Vikir in an angry voice.

    "Why is the ruby mine yours! It''s ours!"

    Adolfughed and Hugo frowned at the sight.

    But Vikir dismissed Camus''s protests with a single word.

    "You must have traveled a long way to smoke this."

    Hugoughed and Adolf frowned at the sight.

    Meanwhile.

    The Camus gritted his teeth, realizing that his weapon of choice was a child.

    So he changed his demeanor and reverted to his logical self.

    Saaaaah...

    A chill ran through the girl''s body.

    Dropping her innocent expression, she spoke in a cold voice.

    "Since you seem to dislike talking, let me logically exin why this ruby mine belongs to Morg."

    Camus took out a map and analyzed the mine''s topography.

    "The only surface mines that can produce rubies are within our family, which means that the Baskervilles can''t mine them on their own anyway, and it makes good business sense for the Baskervilles to give us the mining rights to the ruby ore beneath the estate in exchange for a percentage of the estate''s rent."

    She is the only child of a prominent mage family who has never been ovee by logic before.

    Her logic would make even grown men flinch, much less people her own age.

    But Camus''s pride was soon challenged.

    "The mineral ruby ismonly used in magic. There is no reason for Baskerville to mine them, and it would be a great tragedy for House Morg to have a fool in our midst who would open up ournds for rent."

    Camus stared nkly at Vikir''s argument.

    For the first time in his life, he had met someone whose logic didn''t make sense to him, and it was someone his own age!

    Weren''t most men his age dull and stupid? Camus couldn''t help but feel a little confused.

    ... Meanwhile.

    Camus''s and Vikir''s arguments were not those of mere eight-year-olds.

    Both had a firm grasp on the logic of the Morgs and Baskervilles, and Adolf and Hugo could not help but watch with interest.

    Camus narrowed his eyes.

    "Well, that''s curious. I''ve never met anyone like you before. I don''t know anyone my age who can talk to me."

    "I go outside a lot."

    "... Excuse me. I''ve been outside a lot already, if you mean inspecting the estate. What makes you think you know anything about my life?"

    "Actually, I have no interest in your life, the problem is Ruby. If you want to change the subject, do it alone."

    Vikir''s stoic demeanor is reced by a glint in Camus''s eye.

    "You''re the first guy I''ve ever met who''s been this indifferent to me!" is the ssic, clich��d, yet timeless sentiment.

    I just did that.

    She''s a direct descendant of House Morg, and she''s been the recipient of countless favors.

    Where else would she go to receive such a tant pat on the back from someone her own age?

    Moreover, this is a stage he cannot afford to lose, an argument he cannot afford to lose.

    My pride has never been diminished.

    Camus asked pointedly.

    "The mine is in Morg territory, so the mining rights belong to Morg!"

    "The vein runs beneath Baskerville''s territory, so the mining rights belong to Baskerville."

    "I thought Baskerville was not interested in rubies!"

    "That''s right, they only care about their territory, which is why they don''t want you toe in. Is that hard to understand?"

    Morg is interested in the ruby, and Baskerville is interested in the territory. There''s no way they can agree on anything.

    The adults standing behind the children didn''t see eye to eye with them, so the dispute was far from resolved.

    Then.

    Camus''s ruby eyes sparkled.

    "Very well, I''ll make sure you know where the ruby ore belongs!"

    The Camus picked up a brush and ink from his desk.

    He began to draw on the floor.

    Arge circle centered on Vikir, and arger circle centered on Camus.

    The two circles touched each other.

    Then, Camus made a big wall of paper to separate the two circles.

    (The wall of paper was sorge that two servants had to hold it up on each side.)

    Then Camus on the other side of the paper wall said.

    "This is yournd, and this is mynd."

    "...."

    Vikir made no reply.

    Only Hugo and Adolf watched with interest as the two eight-year-olds argued.

    Then.

    ...Boom!

    The wall of paper was torn apart.

    Camus tore through the paper wall and stuck his arm through.

    A white, chubby arm broke through the paper wall and entered Vikir''snd.

    The camel asked Vikir.

    "Now, whose arm is this?"

    Adolf''s face lit up when he heard the answer.

    Hugo''s face crumpled.

    The camel''s analogy was clear.

    Even though his arm had crossed the boundary, he still owned it, and so did the ruby vein.

    It was the wisdom of his ancestors, who, long ago, when the persimmons on their persimmon tree grew over their neighbor''s fence, went to im them.

    But.

    "...hmm. Who does this arm belong to?"

    Vikir is not a very likable character.

    Chin!

    A strong grip that doesn''t look like it belongs to an eight-year-old grabs a white, chubby forearm.

    Before Camus can squeal, Vikir is the first to speak.

    "He''s mine now."

    Instantly, an immense sense of power radiates from Vikir.

    It wasn''t the kind of power thates from drawing on mana, but the kind of power thates from existence itself.

    It was an overwhelming force that only seasoned hunters from the Age of Destruction could exude.

    It was enough to make even Adolf and Hugo cringe for a moment.

    Not to mention Camus, who was only eight years old.

    "...What?"

    Camus tried to swat his hand away, but to no avail.

    Boom.

    The wall of paper ripped open, and Vikir yanked on Camus''s arm.

    The distance between them was now close enough for their noses to touch.

    "...!"

    For a moment, Camus''s gaze wavered.

    It''s the first time he''s ever seen another child this close. Not of the same gender, but of the opposite one.

    On the other side of the wall, the face of the first boy outside of his n was incredibly familiar and yet strange at the same time.

    Dark hair, dark eyes, white skin.

    And a body odor unlike any he''d ever smelled before, and a breath that was almost too quiet to be heard.

    For a moment, Camus felt a jolt that seemed to knock the wind out of him.

    It was a very foreign experience for the eight-year-old, who hadn''t had much experience wandering outside of the n.

    "He looks cute."

    Camus thought, momentarily forgetting the gravity of the situation.

    Is that why?

    He made the mistake of blushing and backing away from an important meeting.

    "My, why am I yours, woo, you''re hrious!"

    It''s hard to tell if the attacknded because he''s looking down at the floor.

    Adolf and Hugo watched the scene with subtle expressions.

    "Humph."

    "Hum, hum."

    Important diplomatic matters mixed with the tender sensibilities of eight-year-olds made for a very awkward atmosphere that was neither theirs nor mine.

    ... Just then.

    Vikir''s words broke the ice.

    "Who says you''re mine?"

    At the same time, Vikir''s grip tightened.

    Camus was pulled firmly back towards Vikir.

    Before she could scream in surprise, Vikir''s other hand moved.

    "Your arm is mine."

    As he spoke, Vikir plucked something from his waistband like lightning.

    It was a sharpened dagger.

    It was a shocking sight that made Camus, Adolf, and even the usually poker-faced Hugo hup.

 Chapter 23: Morg Camus (4)

    <h4>Chapter 23: Morg Camus (4)</h4>

    What a shocking sight.

    ...Hups!

    Even Hugo Les Baskervilles, the patriarch of the Iron de family, had hups.

    Vikir''s actions were just as sudden.

    "Aaaaah!"

    Camus closed his eyes and screamed. No wonder, his arm was about to be cut off.

    She was screaming and crying at a crisis she had never faced before.

    Even his uncle, Adolf, had never seen her cry like this before.

    "That, stop!"

    Adolf unconsciously raised his mana.

    The mana of a Sixth Circle Master surged out, pressuring Vikir.

    But.

    ...Sasak.

    As if he had anticipated it, Vikir immediately let go of Camus''s arm and fell backwards.

    "Aaahhh! Uncle, he''s got my arm...!"

    Camus cried, running to bury his face in the hem of Adolf''s cloak.

    Adolf stared at Vikir in disbelief, not even angry, before turning his attention to Hugo.

    "Go away, what are you doing!"

    Hugo ignored Adolf''s protests. He simply tilted his head at an angle and looked down at Vikir.

    "Son."

    Son, he said, and Vikir answered politely.

    "Yes, father."

    "Your prank just now was a bit too much, I''m afraid."

    "I apologize. It is amon prank among the brothers of the family."

    After speaking, Vikir took the tip of the dagger in his hand and bent it.

    Mmm.

    The knife bent so easily. It''s a fake sword, made of rubber.

    When Adolf saw it, he eximed in disbelief.

    "No, no, no, what kind of a toy is this?"

    "You''ve never seen a boy y with a toy sword before, and we Baskervillians y with them from the time they''re a year old."

    It was only at Hugo''s words, which seemed to surprise him, that Adolf opened his eyes and saw the sword in Vikir''s hand.

    It was a crude rubber knife, obviously a fake, the sort of thing that even the average child in the world would y with.

    My mistake was that I didn''t recognize the quality of the knife in Vikir''s momentary burst of strength.

    Seeing Adolf, who was known for his meticulousness andposure, stumble in surprise gave Hugo a bit of satisfaction.

    He quickly forgot his own surprise.

    "Now, I''ve thought of something about the ruby mine. Maybe the Morg will like it."

    "...."

    "So let''s just get this friendlypetition over with."

    Hugo''s tant attempt to sell out.

    Adolph, looking dumbfounded, tried to protest in Moorish.

    "...h, h, kihing, kihing. That bastard, I''m not gonna let him get away with it, you''ll see!"

    Unfortunately, he didn''t have time for that as he was busy petting Camus, who was blowing his nose against his cloak and whimpering.

    Thus, an important meeting between the two families was ridiculously interrupted by an eight-year-old child''s argument.

    * * *

    ''Magic and the sword are at odds with each other in normal times, but in times of crisis they are a goodplement to each other and save the country.''

    In keeping with the former Emperor''s beliefs, Morg the Mage and Baskerville the Ironde hold an annual friendly tournament.

    Children from the ages of eight to fifteen gather to test their skills against one another.

    By tradition, it is the 15-year-olds whopete in the most intense and spectacr battles with swords and magic, as opposed to the 8-year-olds whopete in theory and mana sensitivity.

    ... but.

    For this year''s friendlypetition, all eyes were elsewhere.

    The 8-year-old ss usually gets little attention.

    The two youngsters standing there were the main protagonists of the day.

    Vikir van Baskerville, of the iron-blooded House Baskerville.

    Morg Camus of House Morg, a master mage.

    At the Morg''s initiative, the eight year olds were moved to the side of the field next to the 15 year old ss where the real action was taking ce.

    They would be fighting just like the 15-year-olds.

    The contrast between the nonchnt Vikir and the venomous Camus was quite striking.

    "Brace yourself, boy."

    "...."

    "You''re not going to get any breaks once you''re in the ring."

    "...."

    "Say something!"

    "...."

    "Eeh!"

    Vikir could only yawn.

    The more he does so, the more he stomps his foot in frustration.

    Finally.

    The bell rang, signaling the start of the realpetition.

    And with that, the match began.

    "Yaaaaaah!"

    A loud cheer rang out.

    Camus immediately drew up his mana and charged at Vikir.

    A performance that draws all of its power from the start.

    It''s a great way to get a quick start, but in the long run, it''s not a good strategy because it reveals all of your cards.

    However, Camus''s talent was indeed impressive.

    Quadra casting!

    He casts four spells at the same time, when most people can''t even cast two in a row.

    Even though they were one-circle spells, Fireball, Ice Sphere, Thunder Ring, and Mud Wall, each one of them would be difficult for a 15 year old in Morg''s household.

    To perform four of them simultaneously is a talent beyond imagination!

    It was indeed a genius that could only be found once in a hundred years, even in the prestigious Morg.

    Boom!

    Fireballs, ice balls, and lightning bolts the size of a child''s fist hit the ground.

    They actually hurt a little, but only slightly, and Vikir ducked just enough to avoid them.

    "It''s pretty spectacr, but I think you''d be better off focusing on just one spell for now."

    "''Eeh, what business is it of yours, you magical ignoramus!"

    Camus was chasing after Vikir, diligently controlling his three offensive magics.

    There was a hint of determination to feed him a shot no matter what.

    But.

    ...Hook!

    Vikir dodged a barrage (more like three child''s fists) of spells, and instead moved closer to the Camus.

    And then.

    Puck!

    Vikir kicked the mud wall that was protecting Camus and shattered it.

    "Huh?"

    Camus swallowed hard.

    It was too close to call in its offensive magic.

    The base of the mud wall copsed, and Vikir''s face came into view.

    Camus felt his heart pounding in his chest.

    "We''re down!"

    Camus''s eyes rolled back in his head as Vikir''s flying palm blocked his vision.

    Then, a searing pain shot across his forehead.

    ...Crack!

    Bam. Camus pulled back, wiping the tears from his eyes, and looked up.

    "...?"

    Her forehead burned, but that was all.

    Vikir didn''t do anything, just flicked his finger and made a small bump on Camus forehead.

    "You, you bastard! Are you kidding me?"

    "...."

    "Go, go!"

    Camus canceled one of the three offensive spells he had cast earlier.

    Woodshed!

    Mud Wall, a wall of mud was created in twoyers, covering Camus.

    "Haha, now there''s a double wall! You can''t get through this!"

    The problem is, with the double wall, Camus herself can''t see out of it.

    But.

    ...Puck!

    The twoyers of mud are as easy to break through as a sheet of paper.

    It was Vikir''s hand that broke through the wall and stretched out in front of Camus face.

    "Who does this hand belong to?"

    The hand that broke through Camus wall and into her space.

    Vikir''s fingers moved quickly while Camus was stunned and unable to find the words to answer.

    "The answer is, turn off the stronger one."

    Another snap.

    Another tear leaked from Camus''s eye.

    He was hit again.

    Swat after swat hit the exact same spot, creating a second, smaller bump.

    To make matters worse, Vikir''s hand slipped away immediately after the second blow.

    It wasn''t like he was delivering a killer blow, it was just a quick p.

    "Who does this thing dare to y with me-aaaaaaaaaaaah!"

    Eight years old, a genius girl who''s spent her entire life growing up like a forbidden jade leaf.

    Camus screamed at the top of her lungs, unable to contain her rising tantrum.

    With that, she canceled all of her offensive spells and formed four walls of mud to surround herself.

    "Now, how about this, no one can break through this, not even you! Ha ha!"

    Camus didn''t seem to mind that his vision had gonepletely dark.

    In fact, he was d that he didn''t have to show his hands rubbing his forehead and his sullen expression.

    "...."

    He paused for a moment, wondering if that little bastard Vikir couldn''t break through the four walls.

    Camu smiled victoriously.

    "Ho-ho-ho! loser! They say you can''t even prate walls because you''re a dwarf dung bag! Come all the way here, you idiot!"

    But still no answer.

    ....

    Some time passed.

    Trapped in the mud dome, Camus rubbed his forehead and thought to herself.

    "Huh? But this won''t let me get out, will it?

    What should I do? My vision ispletely blocked and I can''t see what''s going on outside.

    I can''t even try to do something different, because I''m stuck with fouryers of mud.

    I thought, "Hmm. Maybe I can cut a hole and peek out?''

    With a little effort, Camus cut a small hole in the mud wall.

    He stuck his face through the hole to look out.

    ...Bam!

    Bikir''s hand swooped in like a ghost and delivered a third blow to the Camus forehead.

    "Kaaaahhhh!"

    Three lumps!

    With three small lumps on the same spot on her forehead, Camus writhed in pain and anger.

    She lifted her burning eyes and quickly canceled all fouryers of mud walls.

    As the mud wall copsed, she could see the face of the insignificant bastard in the distance.

    "I''m going to kill him! Aaahhhh!"

    Camus cried. He was too angry and frustrated to think about his dignity.

    So he threw away all his defensive spells and cast four offensive spells at the same time.

    A firepower that would have been impossible for a fifteen year old to pull off!

    Meanwhile, Vikir faced the Camus''s fury and thought.

    "...What should I do?"

    If you want to kill her, you can snap her neck in 0.1 seconds. But that''s not the problem right now.

    Dealing with children is painful. You don''t know where to stop and where to start.

    This is especially true for Vikir, who has spent his entire life on the battlefield.

    He was too young to be appeased by the younger members of House Morg.

    Eventually, Vikir made a judgment call.

    "Morg''s problems are Morg''s problems."

    It''s always cleaner to do things without getting your hands dirty.

    Boom!

    A quick nce to the side reveals an intense battle in progress.

    A nameless fifteen year old Baskerville and a fifteen year old Morg were engaged in a fierce battle of swordsmanship and magic.

    Both are so focused that they don''t realize that someone is approaching them.

    The 15 year old Morg seems to be practicing a powerful fire explosion spell, and a loud explosion is emanating from the arena.

    Swoosh-

    Vikir ducked back and stood as close as he could to the border of the neighboring arena.

    A very angry Camus followed closely behind him.

    "Well, if there''s any more, the arbiters will step in.

    Vikir shifted slightly, and Camus followed him relentlessly, not wanting to let go.

    And then.

    ...Boom!

    An explosion. And gasps.

    "Ouch! It''s Camus!"

    "Oh my God, Ms. Camus!"

    "No! It''s...!"

    Vikir began to see the picture he wanted.

 Chapter 24: Morg Camus (5)

    <h4>Chapter 24: Morg Camus (5)</h4>

    "Aaah!"

    Camus summoned fire and ice, lightning and boulders, and began pounding the ground.

    Vikir narrowly avoided all of them, gradually moving closer and closer to the border with the other side of the performance hall.

    "You bastard, don''t run away, stick to me!"

    Camus shouted, trembling. It seemed to regain some of the confidence it had lost when it was forced to close the distance.

    However, the three bumps on his forehead made her look anything but cute to others.

    Vikir raised his palm and tapped his forehead three times as he moved to avoid the magic.

    The smirk on Vikir''s face was enough to make Camus lose his cool.

    "I''m not going to let you off easy, you little bastard, not even if you beg!"

    As Camus took his final leap, Vikir stopped running.

    And that''s when Vikir''s clever calctions paid off.

    ...Boom!

    The 15-year-old Baskerville and Morg, who had been fighting in the next room, shed fiercely.

    Swords broke and magic burst, sending shards flying in all directions.

    The 15-year-old Morg used a massive fire spell that shredded and scattered mes in all directions.

    Even Vikir and Camus were caught in its path.

    ...Boom!

    An explosion. And cries of horror.

    "Ouch! It''s Camus!"

    "Oh my God, Camus!"

    "No! It''s ...!"

    The mages watching the tournament from the sidelines were stunned.

    But even if it was an ident, it was a fairly minor one.

    The mes from the nearby training grounds didn''t pose much of a threat.

    However.

    "Gah!"

    Camus screamed as he looked down to see that most of the hem of his clothes had been burned away.

    As she hastily stripped off her still-sizzling clothes, she became an underwear breeze in the middle of the training grounds.

    Luckily, the mes, smoke, and dust around her hadn''t yet revealed her nakedness to others, but... was sure a gust of wind would do it in a few seconds.

    Thinking the damage was minor, the guardians outside didn''t barge in.

    Only a few worried voices could be heard.

    "Oh, no, not at this rate...!

    The teary, snotty face is not enough, even the underwear-like body is exposed in front of everyone. What an embarrassment!

    ''What can I do, what can I do, what can I do...''

    If I show this kind of behavior, I will lose my dignity in the family.

    I had once been kicked out of the house, naked, for talking back to my mother, so the trauma was even more intense.

    "Nu, can someone... someonee!"

    Camus crouched down, covering his bare skin with his hands as best he could.

    Worried about the terrible humiliation that woulde in a few seconds.

    But then ... just then.

    Flutter!

    Camus felt the fabric wrapped around his entire body.

    It was heavy, but soft fabric.

    Raising his head, he saw a ck blood-red robe covering his entire body.

    "Wear that."

    Vikir said. He stood in a blur of underwear in front of Camus.

    Camus stuttered.

    "...You, huh?"

    At that, Vikir shrugged.

    "It''s a privilege of children to be naked for all to see and not have their honor tarnished."

    The idea that it''s a disgrace to show what''s underneath the clothes is rampant among both genders, but... those are the stories of adults.

    Little kids running around naked is not a big deal or an emotional issue or a w. Kids can be kids.

    ...Of course, the child may have a different opinion, but at least that''s what Vikir thought.

    After helping Camus, Vikir got up from his spot.

    Then.

    Camus pointed at Vikir''s face and stuttered.

    "Yaah... you, you are bleeding, you are bleeding!"

    Vikir raised his hand and wiped the blood from his forehead.

    Apparently, when the magic had been dispersed, the shards of the sword had been dispersed as well.

    It wasn''t a fatal wound, but it was blood anyway, and in a fight between eight-year-olds, blood is the difference between victory and defeat.

    And now.

    Whirring-!

    A gust of wind blows in, sweeping away the dust and smoke from the stage.

    It reveals a dazed Camus, covered in Baskerville''s training clothes, and a bleeding, naked Vikir.

    It''s unclear what happened in the dirt, but everyone could tell that the mood between them was no longer one for fighting.

    "...."

    The look in Camus''s eyes, in particr, tells everyone that the battle ispletely over.

    That dazed gaze was like a nk te....

    Meanwhile.

    The other Baskervilles looked at the naked youngster, who stood tall and proud.

    "Ho-ho, did you lose to the Morg woman, or did you win, I can''t tell."

    "By the way, the young one is very good. He must have been favored by the River Styx."

    "Of course, all those lean muscles all over his body. You must be keeping up with your training schedule."

    The fight between the eight-year-olds, which had been impressive in many ways, ended somewhat sourly with the loss of Camus.

    * * *

    After the friendlypetition was over.

    Hugo pulled Vikir aside in the corner of the arena.

    As they walked to the chamber, Hugo turned to Vikir and asked.

    "How was the battle with the youngdy from Morg?"

    "It was interesting. It reminded me of the purpose of the event."

    "A battle with a wizard is quite different from a battle between swordsmen."

    "I''ll keep learning."

    Hugo and Vikir chatting away.

    If anyone else in the family had seen this, they would have been quite surprised.

    Hugo wasn''t the type to talk to his children like this.

    And Vikir was also feeling quite out of ce in this moment.

    ''What is this, was he always like this?''

    I don''t actually remember much of Hugo as a child.

    He was always cold, strict, and cruel.

    Rumor has it that the reason he was so screwed up was due to the bitter loss of his first wife and eldest daughter.

    ''...Well, that''s none of my business now.''

    While Vikir mulled this over in his mind, Hugo asked his next question in a blunt tone.

    "What do you think of the ruby mine?"

    Hugo''s core question, a continuation of the argument from before the friendlypetition.

    At the time, Camus''s logic had been, "We can''t mine the rubies in Baskerville anyway, so we''ll take the mining rights for pennies on the dor," which was also Morg''s demand.

    Baskerville, then, has no choice but to give a realistic answer.

    Turning to Hugo, who was looking at him with some anticipation, Vikir replied.

    "I think it''s better to give it away."

    Hugo''s eyes widened slightly at that.

    "You''re giving away the mining rights to the ruby mine?"

    "Yes."

    "On what basis?"

    Hugo asked again, and Vikir answered without hesitation.

    "The Red And ck Mountains, through which the ruby mines flow, are downstream of the Red And ck Mountains. A little further up, powerful demons and barbarians abound, and I know this because I recently crossed the border into the Forbidden Zone on a practical assessment."

    Vikir said, remembering the arrow marks in Cerberus'' side.

    Meanwhile, Hugo''s expression was brightening, albeit subtly.

    "Hmm. So?"

    "And the Baskervilles have made it a point to expand their borders by opening up those backwoods. If we can use the Morg to our advantage, we can minimize the damage to the Baskervilles'' frontier."

    Hugo''s eyes glowed blue at that.

    "Hoo-hoo-hoo, that''s the answer."

    He understood Vikir''s point.

    If the ruby mining rights were given away, the Morg would put a significant number of men downstream in the Red and ck Mountains.

    Baskerville would then be able to open up the wilderness next to them and drive any demons or barbarians that lived there back to Morg.

    When you take territory from demons or barbarians, you must dry up their seeds so that the natives will never seek revenge.

    Cutting Root.

    I must kill all the demons and barbarians in thend, as well as chase down and kill all those who escape, and then I can take full possession of thend.

    Return to thend.

    This is because it prevents the departed from gaining strength and returning to take revenge.

    But it''s a long and painful process topletely exterminate fleeing prey.

    So Hugo decided to clear thend and drive all the fleeing demons and barbarians to Morg''s ruby mines.

    "Hahaha, the rubies will be even redder with Morg''s blood. You will regret entering our territory, child of Respane."

    Hugo was pleased with Vikir''s answer.

    The Morg had gotten the ruby, Baskerville had gotten the territory, and the meeting had ended cordially.

    "Very well done. A ploy that fits my n perfectly."

    Hugo said, stroking Vikir''s head.

    Vikir thought.

    ''Of course it was. The n came from your head in the first ce.''

    Vikir knew this well, for before the regression, he had served as a hound to drive demons and barbarians toward the Morg.

    For now, however, he must simply lower his eyes and answer politely.

    "Still, I think we should carefully monitor the movements of any Morg who have entered our territory, just in case."

    "There is no need to worry about that. I have been slowly increasing the number of hounds I have sent there for some time now."

    Hugo''s answer came as a surprise. Not that the n was surprising, but that he''d bothered to tell Vikir about it.

    Vikir was stunned to realize that Hugo''s gaze had softened to the color of tanned leather.

    Just as they were about to enter the chamber.

    "My Lord."

    A voice called out to Hugo from behind.

    Where he turned, Morg Adolf stood.

    And beside him, he saw Camus, whose eyes were still red.

    The way it was clutching at the hem of his uncle''s cloak, staring at him, seemed oddly familiar.

    Hugo narrowed his eyes.

    "Acting Lord Morg, what is it, and do you still have business?"

    "I have one very important business to attend to."

    "Well, let''s go inside and finish it."

    Hugo opened the door and stepped into the chamber.

    Adolf followed him in and sat down on the couch.

    "...."

    Camus still didn''t say anything.

    He merely nced at Vikir before entering, then dropped his gaze to the floor and walked away.

    He still wore the blood robe Vikir had given him after the duel, wrapped tightly around his body.

    Adolf said to Hugo.

    "The truth is, Morg has been putting a lot of thought into resolving the ruby mine issue amicably, and the rent for the manor is just one of many issues."

    "So what, the price of me opening up thends."

    "What about the marriage pact?"

    Hugo''s brow furrowed slightly at Adolf''s offhand remark.

    But it wasn''t a frown.

    Hugo leaned forward and asked.

    "Marriage pact?"

    "Yes. A marriage between a man and a woman from Morg and Baskerville."

    Opening up thends to another family for money might not look good, so let''s paint a good picture by creating a marriage rtionship.

    But a marriage between Morg and Baskerville, known for their long-standing rivalry, is an awkward and outrageous proposition.

    Hugo chuckled at the suggestion, which he hadn''t even considered.

    "I see. And who does it link to whom?"

    "How about this one''s eldest daughter and that one''s eldest son?"

    Adolf turned his head to look at Camus.

    Just then, Camus''s head snapped up in surprise.

    It''s a sign of the times.

    "He''s my nephew," he said, "but he''s a great kid. Beauty for beauty, intelligence for intelligence, strength for strength, nothing is missing, and I think she would make a goodpanion for the little sunshine of Baskerville."

    But Hugo didn''t care about any of that.

    "Hmph. My firstborn is twenty this year. I thought there was quite a difference in age?"

    "Eight and twenty. It''s only a seventeen-year difference, isn''t it? That''s easily ovee."

    "Adolf was forty years old this year, wasn''t he? Do you think he could meet a seventeen-year-old?"

    "...."

    Adolf suddenly became very quiet.

    Hugo threw up his hands.

    "Besides, my eldest son is already engaged to be married."

    "Is that so, and when...?"

    "It''s a prenatal marriage. You don''t even know."

    Hugo''s answer gave Adolf a troubled look.

    Just then.

    Suddenly, Camus raised his head and shouted.

    "I will not marry anyone weaker than my mother!"

    Her tone was quite confident.

    Adolf and Hugo''s gazes turned to her.

    They hadn''t even asked for the child''s wishes.

    Adolf smiled gently and stroked the camel''s head.

    "My dear, if you refuse to marry someone weaker than your mother, you will be a virgin for most of your life. Or you''ll have to find a man with a huge age gap."

    "I''m looking at possibilities, and I don''t want a huge age gap. I like people my own age or younger, and there were a lot of people my age in the audience earlier!"

    Adolf shrugged at Camus''sment, as if he had nothing to say.

    Then Hugo looked at Camus with a hint of irritation.

    "Kid, this isn''t a buffet."

    "I know, and I''m not interested in picking and choosing."

    With that, Camus looks up and stares off into the distance.

    There, standing in the distance, was Vikir.

    Hugo is stroking his chin with his hand when he realizes where Camus''s gaze is headed.

    "No! You!"

    Adolf jumped up and covered the camus''s eyes.

    "He has the surname of Van, not Les, and you''re a dragon from the creek, after all!"

    Adolf whispers in Camus''s ear, but Hugo, who is now a superhuman, can''t help but hear the whispers.

    "Hmmm. That''s true, but it''s kind of pissing me off."

    Hugo mumbles a little to himself.

    Then he turns to Vikir, who is standing next to him.

    "Well, when ites to marriage, it''s what you think that counts. What about you, my son?"

    Without hesitation, Vikir answered.

    "If you say so, I will obey."

    It was a loyal answer.

    Hugoughed heartily at that, and Adolf''s face contorted in bewilderment.

    If you ask me to do it, marriage is not a timely process.

    What a disrespectful way to treat Morg''s only child!

    Hugo was even openly scratching Adolf''s insides.

    "In Baskerville, there''s no such thing as direct lineage. Inferior thingse from the family name of Les, and superior thingse from the family name of Van."

    " ... Is that what the Lord would say, my friend?"

    Adolf looked down at Vikir with a smile on his face.

    But the smile was cold and hard.

    "I didn''t get a good look at you in the training grounds earlier, do you mind if I take a good look at you?"

    Vikir finally managed to look up at Adolf, who stood before him.

    Sixth Circle Master. A powerhouse at the very top of the Mage House Morg.

    A delegate to the Great House and a master of words who is often the go-to person for diplomatic and political matters.

    "And known as a terrible nephew fool."

    Vikir is alone, mulling over the pre-regression character data.

    Adolf leaned closer and whispered in Bikir''s ear.

    "Child, I don''t mean for you to hear this, but.... To be the husband of our camus, you must be of a certain age. It''s just a matter of opinion within the family, and personally, I don''t think you''re even close to being the right man for Baskerville."

    The words were spoken with a hint of bravado.

    As is characteristic of politicians, Hugo''s temper is quite high for a man who had just taken a jab at Camus.

    But.

    "...."

    Under Adolf''s pressure, Vikir doesn''t move an inch, just stands there with an expressionless face.

    In fact, Adolf''s brow furrows.

    "Why don''t you answer me? Are you listening to me?"

    Finally, Vikir''s mouth opened.

    "You said it wasn''t for me to hear, so I didn''t listen."

 Chapter 25: Morg Camus (6)

    <h4>Chapter 25: Morg Camus (6)</h4>

    "You said it wasn''t for me to hear, so I didn''t listen after that."

    At those words, Hugo hastily covered the corner of his mouth with his hand.

    Though expressionless from the hand up, it was a... gesture that hid a smile from anyone who saw it.

    Camus also stares at him with wide eyes.

    "Hoo... hoo hoo hoo hoo...."

    Only Adolf''s forehead is covered in blood.

    He straightened his bent back to meet Vikir''s eye and looked back at Hugo.

    "My lord. Will you allow me to speak with this child for a few moments?"

    It was highly unusual for a delegate of House Morg, much less a top member of the power, to take such an undue interest in a mere eight-year-old.

    And Hugo didn''t have much to say in response to his opponent''s overreaction.

    "What are you doing with that kid? Is the Mad Star of the Empire persecuting an eight-year-old boy?"

    Hugo hadn''t forgotten what he''d heard before, and he was returning the favor.

    But Adolf was stubborn.

    "Hehe, isn''t this a child who may one day be my niece''s husband, and I''m asking you this as an uncle, not as the head of Morg''s delegation?"

    "Oh, uncle, it''s not like that!"

    "Uh-huh, leave my nephew alone. This uncle will take care of it. We all have to see this once in a while."

    Adolf says with a stern look on his face as Camus speaks up.

    He nudges Hugo with a sly nce, a nuanced way of asking him to save face.

    "...."

    Hugo threw up his hands, thinking that it had been a long time since he''d had to deal with the Morg.

    Do as you please.

    * * *

    Vikir readily epted Adolf''s request.

    Morg Adolf was an absolute powerhouse who had been difficult to deal with even before his regression. At the age of forty, he is already the acting head of the family at official events.

    The chance to experience a little bit of Adolf''s power was a good one.

    I''m sure Hugo thought so too, which is why he allowed me to attend.

    After the annual ceremony, everyone cleared out of the ballroom.

    Vikir and Adolf stood facing each other in arge field.

    The observers were Hugo Les Baskerville and Morg Camus.

    They stood at a distance from each other, looking at the two men in the center of the arena.

    Adolf said.

    "Child of Baskerville, I am about to test your qualities, so show me all that you are."

    Vikir nodded and thought of something else.

    "If I show you all of me, you''ll faint."

    What would happen if I faced him at his pre-regression peak?

    Fifty percent in ambush and assassination, ten percent in hand-to-handbat.

    But I don''t have all of my pre-regression strength back, and I don''t have to fight to the best of my ability.

    I just need to fulfill Adolf''s expectations in moderation.

    "Let''s see what confidence can do."

    It''s said that masters can tell each other''s skill by shaking hands.

    Vikir thought he''d take this opportunity to see how Morg stacks up against the top yers.

    Then Adolf said.

    "Child, I give you a handicap."

    He raised his hand and swung it toward the ground.

    Boom!

    Mud rose up from the ground and swirled around to form the shape of a jar.

    Boom!

    The mes from Adolf''s hand solidified the y.

    ...

    Next, the jar began to fill with water spontaneously.

    A seemingly simplebination of earth, fire, and water, three magical elements all at once.

    ...just right!

    Adolf snapped his fingers, and the jar of water slowly rose into the air andnded on top of Adolf''s head.

    Carrying the jar of water, Adolf looked down at Vikir and said.

    "I will fight you with this jar full of water on my head. If you can get even one drop of water to flow from the jar on my head, you win."

    In other words, go for it.

    Vikir gripped his short sword and took up his stance.

    Adolf crossed his arms and stared at Vikir.

    And then.

    ...Tadak!

    Vikir made the first move.

    Seeing Vikir charging straight at him, Camus cried out in rm.

    "Uh-uh! You can''t run straight at my uncle!"

    Hearing this, Adolf looks back at camus with a very regretful expression.

    "Nephew, I don''t want you to tell him that."

    At the same time, a transparent barrier forms in front of Adolf''s eyes.

    Pow!

    Vikir is knocked back against the wall as he charges.

    "Shield magic is best when dealing with swordsmen. Even an aura sword will be hard pressed to stop them."

    Adolf''s words were true.

    Adolf, in particr, was a master of shield magic, able to create shields of various sizes, thicknesses, and shapes to suit the time and ce.

    Earlier, he had created a shield just the right size to cover Vikir''s torso to minimize the waste of mana.

    However, Vikir is no slouch either.

    ...Ta-da!

    Vikir used the backward bouncing momentum to close the distance, then immediately turned and moved to the side.

    At the same time.

    Bam! Bam!

    Vikir kicked a few cobblestones in the opposite direction of his travels.

    The stones flew straight toward the water jar.

    "It''s not a good idea to aim for the jug."

    Without even looking in the direction the rocks wereing from, Adolf used his hands to create a shield.

    He summoned another, smaller shield for the iing Vikir.

    Vikir bounced back from another blow.

    Adolf opened his mouth.

    "From now on, I will attack as well."

    Before he can finish his sentence, fire spears are summoned.

    Fire bolts descend rapidly through the air, each one powerful enough to pierce the solid soil of the smokefield and create a deep pit.

    Seeing this, Camus cried out.

    "Uncle, that''s not fair, you didn''t even use that kind of magic against me!"

    "You are my ... nephew. Whose side are you on now?"

    Adolf looked bitterly disappointed.

    But Vikir was frantically dodging the flying fire spears.

    "Hmm. That''s it.

    Vikir''s familiarity with Adolf''s power hadn''t changed much since then.

    This level was already familiar.

    ''I see how to deal with him.

    The seasoned battle experience before the regression, and the innocent face of a child afterward.

    Thebination of the two can catch your opponent off guard and lead to unexpected results.

    ''Or kill him.''

    A ghastly thought crossed my mind, but... I didn''t need to make a big deal out of it.

    Hugo''s eyes were on me, and I needed to get this right.

    "Eeeeee!"

    Vikir moved as if chased by mes.

    Vikir quickly drew his sword and swung at Adolf.

    But.

    "Not a chance."

    Adolf''s shield blocks Vikir''s de.

    Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang!

    Vikir swung his sword again, but it too was blocked by the shield.

    Adolf grumbled.

    "Same thing a hundred times. Your sword can''t pierce the shield."

    But Vikir did not give up.

    Boom.

    The sword swings.

    Boom!

    And it hits the shield.

    Vikir kept repeating the same move, and Adolf kept blocking the sword with the same shield.

    Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom!

    The sword was hitting the same ce over and over again without missing a beat.

    Vikir''s sword flew with machine-like precision, the same trajectory repeated countless times.

    At this point, even Adolf realized that something was wrong.

    "...hoh."

    Vikir''s de was hitting the same spot on the shield over and over again.

    The shield was getting worn down by the de.

    Especially since it was constantly hitting only one part, the magical fatigue level of that part was already quite high.

    "Hahahaha- you''re trying to pierce the shield by hitting the same spot over and over again, what a bold idea. I can''t help but praise your concentration and swordsmanship for being able to target the same spot over and over again without missing a beat."

    However, Adolf''s eyes immediately turn cold.

    "But... that''s like trying to hit a boulder with an egg, and you''re trying to do that against the durability of my shield and the durability of your sword?"

    He was right.

    Bam! Bam!

    Vikir''s sword struck Adolf''s shield for the tenth time.

    ...Pow!

    Vikir''s sword finally shatters and breaks.

    Vikir was forced to retrieve his broken sword and step back.

    Hugo stroked his chin and remained speechless, while Camus looked disappointed.

    Adolf turned to Vikir, who had retreated into the distance.

    "I admire your stubbornness and willingness to stick to one position, but it''s something you have to do while watching your opponent. You''re a fine young man, but you''re far from qualified to be my nephew''s husb...."

    Adolph was about to end the line with an admonition.

    ... but.

    He immediately felt the top of his head grow damp and stopped speaking.

    "What is it?

    When Adolf realized that something was wrong.

    Gurgling.

    A trickle of water dampened his hair and began to run down his face.

    "...?"

    Dazed, Adolf looks up and sees a jar of water leaking from his head.

    "...Boom!

    The shard of Vikir''s sword that broke and bounced off earlier had stuck into the side of the jar, causing it to leak water.

    Adolf, soaked from the crown of his head to his chin and even to the nape of his neck, looked on in a daze.

    Thud, thud, thud, thud.

    Vikir walked up to him and said.

    "You''re full to the brim."

    He was referring to the water in the jar, of course.

 Chapter 26: The Graduate (1)

    <h4>Chapter 26: The Graduate (1)</h4>

    The number of people being born in Baskerville was still high, and the number of people dying was still high.

    The Styx River flowed, the current pushing back the tide.

    Seven years had passed since the day of the duel of the two eight-year-olds.

    * * *

    "This instructor can be an angel or a devil, depending on what you do!"

    A short-bearded young hound was shouting in a raspy voice.

    His name is Staffordshire Baskerville. Thirty-five years old. He''s a veteran knight of the Graduator ss.

    An outsider, amoner, not even given the middle name of Van, let alone La, but an upstanding man who had managed to cleanse his bloodline by taking the surname of Baskerville due to his outstanding qualities and straightforward heart.

    In particr, his "stabbing fang" swordsmanship is said to have reached the level of the Four Teeth Baskervilles.

    Four teeth, drawn to perfection.

    If he''s this good, he should be able to lead and teach the younger Baskervilles right now.

    "Now, for the final exercise, practice makes perfect, as I''m sure you''re all well aware!"

    Staffordshire nced at the fifteen- and sixteen-year-old Baskervilles in front of him.

    All looked tired and weary. But the chill and poison in their eyes is growing stronger and stronger.

    The young Baskervilles here, all fifteen or sixteen years old, are swordsmen who have mastered the Sword Expert junior ss, Baskerville One Tooth.

    Staffordshire checked the trainees'' form, then turned his head again.

    In the center of the training grounds that surrounded them, a huge bear stood on two paws.

    Weighing in at 800 kilograms and standing three meters tall, there was something else unusual about this giant bear.

    It has two sharply curved horns on top of its head.

    <Oxbear>

    Danger rating: A

    Size: 5 meters

    Found in: Ridge 7, Red and ck Mountains

    -A veryrge bear with two massive horns.

    A carnivorous bear, the strongest terrestrial predator, and a perfect killing machine, it is considered the strongest and pinnacle of the Red and ck Mountains 7th Ridge ecosystem.

    A demonic creature with few natural enemies other than its own kind.

    The bear carries two massive, curved buffalo horns on its head.

    Its entire body is covered in thick muscle, fat, and bristly fur.

    [grrrr...]

    The beast currently on the loose in the performance hall appears to be a sub-adult, not yet fully grown.

    It''s also been in a cage for a long time, so its nutrition is not very good.

    But that also means it''s aggressive and nervous.

    Staffordshire swung his sword to intimidate Oxbear, while encouraging the younger Baskervilles behind him.

    "Now, we just need to do what we''ve been practicing on the demon''s corpse. Last time we practiced on Oxbear''s corpse, you all know how tough his hide is, how tight his muscles are, and which parts of his body contain which entrails."

    The meek-looking Staffordshire was a different man when he stood before Oxbear.

    His eyes glowed with life, and the aura emanating from the tip of his sword was like a giant''s grip.

    Staffordshire exuded such a terrifying aura that it overwhelmed Oxbear, but he never attacked.

    Because it''s not his ce.

    Next.

    [Grrrrrr!]

    Oxbear charged.

    He charged like a buffalo with his two horns.

    The young Baskervilles fight back, each ording to their own preferences.

    Some scattered to the left and right to dodge, while others swung their swords in front of them.

    ...BANG!

    Those who dodge live, and those who meet head-on fall.

    Staffordshire continued.

    "If someone stronger than you ising at you head-on, it''s natural to dodge. But don''t dodge by putting too much distance between you and them, but sneak around them to the side and get in a little attack."

    The young hounds'' advice continues.

    The young hounds'' eyes glowed, sucking them in like water.

    "Don''t be greedy and go for the kill right from the start. It''s more likely to be countered. Instead, go for the center of gravity of the body, in this case the right hind leg, so that it''s not as fast to move or react."

    The young hounds followed their handler''s instructions and repeatedly attacked the bear''s legs as it stood on its two feet.

    Continuing to attack only his hind legs, Oxbear was left with a widening wound that left him with little use of one leg.

    The menacing antler lunge was sealed.

    By this time, the young baskervilles had bared their teeth in earnest.

    They were now hunting dogs who could take care of themselves without the guidance of the Staffordshire.

    Baskerville 1 meal. More than thirty teeth bared, tearing at Oxbear''s body.

    The most aggressive were the triplets, Highbrow, Middlebrow, and Lowbrow.

    Quack, quack, quack!

    They hunted the bear as if they were the boss.

    They were the boss of the pack, physically shoving aside any cocky siblings who tried to get ahead of them, or any dumb siblings who fell behind their peers.

    And then.

    ...thud!

    Oxbear fell to the ground.

    "Well done."

    Staffordshire raised his sword and stepped toward Oxbear''s body.

    Thwack!

    The bear''s stomach split open, spilling guts and flesh.

    After four periods of training, lunchtime came naturally.

    Staffordshire impromptu distributed Oxbear''s guts and flesh to the young hounds.

    Steaming red chunks of meat.

    The young baskervilles chewed and gulped down the raw, squeamish flesh.

    Staffordshire said to the trainees as they ate.

    "Now, eat and listen. As of this hour, three and a half years of basic training, three and a half years of practical training, are over. Congrattions on your graduation."

    Seven years of training had turned these snotty little boys into young warriors.

    Everyone here was now a young prodigy who could not only load a sword with mana, but also draw a perfect set of teeth.

    But Staffordshire said they were just getting started.

    "Practicing with captured demons is really just a tutorial that I wouldn''t even call realistic, and now you have to create and build your own experience."

    The advice of an old hound who has seen it all is always worth heeding.

    "The wild beasts of the Red and ck Mountains are not only fit and strong, but also cunning and calm in nature, unlike those that have been left in cages for a long time. Even I can''tpete with the stubborn and old individuals I sometimes see."

    That''s true of the oxbear I just killed.

    Facing a full-grown wild oxbear''s horns, followed by a series of front paws and head bites, is dangerous enough for any grader.

    Controlled variables, a safe environment, and set rules.

    And a wild, unexplored ce where you can''t survive on your training alone.

    That''s where these young hounds have to go from here.

    The young Baskervilles already knew that.

    Staffordshire gestured to the countless scars across his face.

    "You''ll have to go through the hell that lies ahead on your own. Either ovee it with the blood you were born with, or ovee it with your own experience. I have nothing more to say to you, that''s all!"

    With a brief colossus salute, he relinquished his position as leader.

    The young Baskervilles put down the flesh and guts they''d been tearing up for a moment.

    Then they steeled themselves for the next twenty-one months of unexplored territory.

    Once Staffordshire was out of sight, they gathered in small groups and began to make small talk.

    "Hey, where did you get your knighthood?"

    "First degree, Doberman. Two, a pit bull. And a Rottweiler."

    "Oh, none of those ovep with me. I like the Knights of the Wolfhound, then the Shepherds and the Bull Mastiffs."

    The Seven Knights of Baskerville.

    Each order was created and operated for a different purpose: vignce, search, protection, assassination, suppression, and all-out warfare.

    But the best of the bunch was the Order of the Wolfhound, which symbolized the power of the house.

    "I want to join the Wolfhounds."

    "But you can''t just go there because you want to, you have to be kicked out."

    "I''m going to be realistic and apply for the Dobermans. That''s practically the only ce you can get in, besides the Wolfhounds."

    "If I join the Doberman Knights, I''ll have to watch the castle walls for the rest of my life, and I can''t stand that. I''d rather be a Pit Bull Knight, always on the battlefield."

    The children murmured.

    And naturally, their eyes slowly began to converge on a single point.

    "...But where is he going to go?

    That was themon question of all the kids here.

    Even the triplets, who had been the most active in this oxbear hunt, had put down their morsels of meat and were now watching.

    Vikir Van Baskerville.

    A child from outside the family, rumored to be Hugo''s illegitimate son.

    He hadn''t joined the oxbear hunt, but sat alone and still in a remote part of the country.

    And at Vikir''s feet, arge oxbear lies dead.

    A muchrger one than the one that had just been killed by thebined efforts of over thirty children.

    The young Baskervilles stare at Vikir, awe in their eyes.

    "Is he really 15 years old like us?"

    "How does he catch an oxbear by himself?"

    "From what I''ve heard, he''s already a Sword Expert?"

    "He''s also drawn three teeth."

    "Crazy, he can use the three Baskerville form? That makes him almost like a leader hound!"

    Worship of the powerful ismon in any group, but it''s even more pronounced in the Baskerville family.

    But the truth is, Vikir doesn''t pay much attention to the rumors.

    "Advanced Sword Expert.''

    Advanced Sword Expert means that the aura at the tip of a sword has be so dense that it can pass between gas and liquid.

    The children of Les Baskervilles usually reach this stage between the ages of twenty and twenty-five, but Vikir is rumored to have achieved it by the age of fifteen.

    ... but.

    Vikir''s true hidden power was beyond that of a Graduator Intermediate.

    It was a full two levels above Sword Expert, andparable to Staffordshire, who had been his leader hound.

    Moreover, considering the protection of the Styx River and the power of the demonic sword Beelzebub, his actualbat power would be even stronger than this.

    If the world knew, it would be shaken to its core.

    ''...Currently, I''ve mastered five Baskerville Forms. In terms of swordsmanship alone, he has already surpassed the level before the regression."

    He had never mastered a sword technique above the fourth level in his previous life.

    Because of this, it would take him a little longer than he had originally nned to be a perfect Graduator Intermediate.

    Meanwhile, Vikir closed his eyes and recalled the oxbear he had just killed.

    It had been a close call, but the animal had been weakened by years in captivity, and he''d been able to kill it with his hidden skills.

    Vikir''s mind raced as he tried to figure out how good he was now, and how much he''d lost inparison to his pre-regression skills.

    He couldn''t be bothered with the chatter of the Baskervilles'' day pups, who were just getting their teeth.

    Then.

    A topic of conversation caught the attention of even Vikir, who was lost in thought.

    A young Baskerville had casually mentioned something.

    "... So, in our line, he''s going to the Academy?"

    The Academy ''Colosseo''

    An Imperialpulsory school where the Seven Houses of the Empire send their young heirs to be educated.

    Due to the academy''s capacity limitations, the number of students admitted is limited to a small number from each family.

    Naturally, only the most elite young people from each family are allowed to attend, which is something Vikir was interested in.

    Of course, he doesn''t have the greed for fame or the desire for education that the other kids do.

    "It''s a chance to get away from Hugo and improve my skills.

    Of course, there''s more to it than that. Like paying back a debt from a previous life, or gaining control of a hidden artifact.

    As Vikir ponders his next move.

    "Young master."

    A voice called to him from behind.

    An old voice, but still strong. A warm, gentle demeanor.

    Butler John Barrymore came to stand at Vikir''s side.

    He was one of the few people Vikir had ever felt sorry for in his previous life, and Vikir hade to trust him.

    Then Butler Barrymore leaned closer to Vikir and whispered.

    "My lord wants to see you."

    Hugo Les Baskervilles?

    It was always unusual for him to seek out his children.

    At Vikir''s puzzled look, Barrymore smirked and continued.

    "I believe he has decided on your position."

 Chapter 27: The Graduate (2)

    <h4>Chapter 27: The Graduate (2)</h4>

    It''s been a long time since I''ve been in Hugo''s office, and it still smells cold and dingy.

    Dust from old books, stale cigarette smoke, stale coffee, and a faint scent of blood.

    Like a seasoned hound, Vikir reads the atmosphere through scent.

    Then a middle-aged man sitting behind the desk, in a swivel chair, staring out the window, turned and faced Vikir.

    Hugo Les Baskerville.

    The iron-blooded patriarch of House Baskerville.

    His face bore a slight resemnce to the face of Hugo in Vikir''sst memory before his regression.

    Suddenly. Vikir noticed a single, rtively recent scar across the bridge of Hugo''s nose.

    It had been there before the regression, but Vikir had no idea how it hade to be, and his eyes lit up.

    "Greetings."

    "Mm."

    Hugo answered briefly, then nodded.

    Vikir continued his casual conversation in a nonchnt tone.

    When Vikir asked about the scar on the bridge of his nose, Hugo shrugged it off as nothing.

    "I was struck by an arrow while ying the enemy and the barbarians of the ck Mountains."

    Vikir was a little surprised.

    The mighty Hugo Baskerville could be wounded by an arrow.

    There was no way a man of Hugo''s stature as a Swordmaster could have been struck by a blind arrow; there must have been a sniper targeting him.

    Hugo smirked.

    "There''s a woman who can shoot a bow."

    "Did you catch her?"

    "No, I didn''t. But I did carve one of those same things into the fox thing''s face."

    A swordsman of Hugo''s caliber would have been able to scatter the aura of the de''s tip to intercept even the most distant foe.

    Hugo touched the bridge of his nose for a moment, feeling the scar across the bridge of his nose still throbbing.

    He paused for a moment, then spoke.

    "Anyway. Congrattions onpleting your training."

    "Thank you."

    "From now on, it''s harder."

    At Hugo''s words, Vikir nodded.

    As Guardian Knight Staffordshire Baskerville had told her at the end of her training, the real work begins now.

    Three and a half years of basic training to learn the theory of warfare, build physical strength, and develop an eye for opposition.

    Another three and a half years of practical training, includingbat training against real demons and humans, and wilderness survival skills.

    But the enemies they''re about to face, and the deep waters of the ck Mountains, are a hell that will negate everything they''ve learned about survival.

    You can only survive if you have a good bloodline, or if you are willing to die for it.

    ''For the next twenty-one months, we''ll be working with the enemy to open up the ck Mountains.

    Vikir thought as he recalled his pre-regression memories.

    If things had gone ording to n, he would have be an apprentice knight of the Pit Bull Knights at this point and been sent to the Red and ck Mountains, crossing countless lines of fire over the next 21 months.

    He would have been thrown into the fray like a hunting dog to be used a few times and then discarded.

    ... But.

    Hugo has a rather unexpected proposal for Vikir.

    "You should be a member of the House of Representatives."

    It was a surprise indeed.

    Hugo would train Vikir in the ways of the court.

    Of course, the Baskervilles are a family of seasoned warriors, so being a bard doesn''t mean you can''t fight.

    However, it is not umon for younger Baskervillians, especially those who are particrly gifted and skilled, to take the path of an unaffiliated warrior after serving as an officer.

    Hugo''s nemesis and second son were on the same path.

    "A man must be strong. As with the sword, so with power."

    Vikir nodded at Hugo''s words.

    While the other expendables were dying on the battlefield, the elites were learning about politics and administration, both within the family and outside.

    And when an elderly elite finally draws his sword and goes into battle, he''ll have the seasoned expendables to assist him.

    The elite may start out a bitte, but he or she will build up his or her skills and aplishments, and grow into an even bigger giant with the political and administrative experience he or she has learned.

    ''...And only the elite can learn more than the Baskerville Five.''

    This is why consumables are not taught higher level swordsmanship beyond Baskerville 5.

    It''s so that the elites, who arete to the game, can catch up to the expendable hounds with little effort.

    It''s the same reason why the higher-ups in the country don''t teach the people to write.

    "As you say."

    Vikir bowed respectfully.

    He''d meant to move away from Hugo''s side, but instead he''d grown closer.

    It didn''t matter much, though, as he hadn''t yet shown much in the way of hidden skills, and this was good for Vikir in more ways than one, as it allowed him to get closer to the center of power.

    Hugo exined Vikir''s new position as an MP simply.

    "The House of Representatives assists the Baskervilles in the executive, legitive, and judicial branches of the House of Baskerville''s territory, as well as attracting business for the House and running the affairs of the House, in short."

    Sessful House members are promoted to Senator, which allows them to deal with matters outside of the House, which is not something Vikir is currently interested in.

    Drac-

    Hugo opened a drawer and pulled out a few papers.

    Deacon Barrymore quickly stood beside him with his seal and sigil.

    "Your new position is Deputy Magistrate of the City of Underdog."

    Underdog City, Vikir knew well.

    The busiest town in the vast territory ruled by the Baskervilles. No, it was more of a metropolis than a town.

    The Archon is the one who oversees the legitive and judicial affairs of the city, and the Deputy Archon is responsible for assisting the Archon in various ways.

    Vikir looked at his appointment letter and said.

    "So it''s about making and enforcingws."

    "Yes, and there are currently vacancies for both the Archon and Deputy Archon positions."

    There was a reason why the positions of one magistrate and several deputy magistrates were all vacant.

    Originally, Underdog City''s ruler was Hugo''s second son, and the second son''s rtives who took the Baskerville surname were the deputy rulers.

    But now Hugo''s second son was long gone, and the deputy magistrates who were supposed to take his ce had been fired or suspended en masse for bribery.

    And Hugo intends to hand over all the powers and duties of those vacant posts to Vikir.

    "It''s a city that''s be a state-free zone. Can you do a good job?"

    Vikir nodded.

    Deputy magistracies are usually held by men in their thirties, but asionally a prodigy, a genius among geniuses, will hold the position in their early twenties.

    And it was likely that these young elites would one day take on important positions representing their families.

    ''... For example, they would be admitted to the Academy.''

    And after four years of studying at the academy, they would return to the family and immediately be a magistrate.

    An elite course for the elite.

    What Hugo proposed to Vikir was an equally unconventional appointment.

    "I think you''re giving me too much power."

    "And a great deal of responsibility."

    Hugo said with a dryugh.

    "Your achievements are at least ten years ahead of the children who are considered geniuses within the family, so I will treat you ordingly."

    Treatment includes both rights and duties.

    The greater the power, the heavier the duty.

    Or, to put it another way, the heavier the task, the greater the power.

    "I will endeavor to live up to my lord''s expectations."

    Hugo nodded wordlessly.

    And then.

    ...thend!

    A piece of paper was stamped with Hugo''s seal.

    With that, Vikir became the deputy magistrate, the de facto magistrate, of a metropolitan underdog with a poption of half a million.

    ''This is good.

    Vikir thought.

    ''If I use the power of the Deputy Magistrate well, I can train my skills much more safely than if I go straight into the fray.

    His hidden teeth and ws would be sharpened.

    And then. Vikir opened his mouth.

    "My lord."

    "...?"

    Hugo looked up.

    There was a glimmer of warmth in his eyes that had been absent since the end of the mission.

    Vikir seized on the threadbare warmth.

    "I''d like to tell you about the ruby mine in Morgawa."

    Seven years ago, an eight-year-old Vikir had done something daring against Morg''s envoys that had made Hugo''s stomach turn.

    Hugo had been so pleased that he had promised Vikir a reward, though he hadn''t asked for exactly what it was.

    And now, Vikir was asking for a reward for his behavior in a very clear way.

    "I was wondering if I could borrow ...."

    Hugo looked a little troubled at that.

    "Hmmm. Yes, I did, and I made it clear then that I would reward you. You said you''d tell me if you wanted something."

    "You don''t have to listen if you don''t want to."

    Hugo''s thick eyebrows arched at that.

    "It won''t be difficult."

    He nodded, then pulled another piece of paper from a drawer and stamped it with his lordship''s seal.

    "I trust you won''t do anything stupid. Son."

    No matter how many times I hear him say "son," I never get used to it.

    And in truth, Vikir was more surprised by Hugo''s willingness to grant his request than by the title.

    "I would never have dared to ask you for a favor before ....

    Perhaps things will go more smoothly than I thought.

    * * *

    Stepping out of the guest room, Vikir walked down the long hallway.

    Behind him, Deacon Barrymore smiled gently.

    "Master."

    "Yes."

    "My lord is very fond of you."

    Vikir remained silent, not saying anything.

    Then Deacon Barrymore spoke.

    "I can see that you''re not going to put him in the field right away, but you''re going to give him the position of de facto ruler. Isn''t that the art of imperialism? You''re going to use him big and heavy."

    Literally, if you''re going to raise a hound to be used and discarded, you should send it out into the battlefield right now to die.

    While the hounds are seasoned by their encounters with death, their would-be masters are armed with ideas and knowledge from a safe ce.

    And from this foothold, the hounds leap to the heights of the untouchable.

    In the end, the lower life cannot ovee the higher, even if it dies and rebirths. Neither by words nor by martial arts.

    It''s a bitter pill to swallow for Vikir, who is feeling it all over again.

    "That''s if I do a good job as Deputy Magistrate."

    "I''m sure you''ll do just fine, Master, and if you do anything more than passably well there, you''ll be the next one to enter the Academy."

    Deacon Barrymore had noticed that Vikir was interested in the Academy as well.

    ... although he couldn''t quite put his finger on why.

    Meanwhile.

    Vikir''s mind was racing with the policies and exploits of the famous bureaucrats he had seen and heard about before his regression.

    The letter of appointment to the position of Deputy Magistrate, stamped with the seal of Hugo le Baskerville, Lord of Ironblooded Baskerville, slipped deep into the pocket of Vikir''s arm.

    "You''ll have to prove yourself quickly."

    There were many ways to prove oneself and move up the ranks in a short period of time.

    Vikir chose the quickest and most obvious one.

 Chapter 28: Special Laws of Vikir (1)

    <h4>Chapter 28: Special Laws of Vikir (1)</h4>

    Vikir made his way to the city hall in the center of Underdog City.

    He made his way across the buildings that housed the many employees, and found his office at the far end.

    "The new deputy magistrate ising today, so make sure the ce is clean."

    "Who will he be?"

    "I don''t care who it is, I just hope it''s someone who''s a little more hands-on."

    "Hey, what do you expect, I heard he''s fifteen."

    Employees sweep, mop, and clean throughout the building.

    On a high wall hung a banner weing Vikir van Baskerville, the new Deputy Archon and Acting Archon.

    Vikir walked nonchntly past the workers.

    He was supposed to start tomorrow, so they didn''t pay much attention to him.

    "Is this your kid, did the staff bring him here?"

    "Honey, you''re not supposed to be here."

    "It''s temporarily closed because the High King ising tomorrow."

    "You can go out there and y, there''s a yground outside for the staff kids."

    A few employees blocked Vikir''s path.

    "Move over."

    When Vikir sees the letter of appointment in his hand, he ducks his head in confusion.

    "..., you''re early for work, Mr. President."

    The staff falls t on their faces, looking as if they''ve seen a ghost.

    Vikir walks into the office and sits down in the overstuffed chair.

    His first order, as soon as he assumed his position as de facto ruler, was order number one.

    "Colonize the liquor and the women."

    * * *

    Baskerville, Chihuahua.

    For ten years now, he''d been the clerk of the town hall here, and he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.

    "I can''t believe I''ve been drinking since day one.

    And he''s only 15 years old.

    After all of his predecessors were suspended for bribery, it''s hard not to feel sick to the stomach when a new kides in and starts getting promiscuous.

    ''What an asshole, and in a sacred workce, too!

    Chihuahua Baskerville rubbed his forehead with his hand.

    He was from outside the n and had been given the surname Baskerville in recognition of his administrative prowess.

    Although he had to settle for the title of secretary because he didn''t have a middle name of "Les" or "La" or "Van," he was working hard.

    "Man, I''ve got a lot of work to do, and then some rascales rolling in and says.... At least I had some hope that Baskerville was from the inside."

    I hadn''t gotten my hopes up when the 15-year-old kid said he wasing, but now they were dashed.

    Even now, the sound of clinking sses, giggling women, and singing clowns could be heard outside the window.

    Baskerville, the Chihuahua, twitched his goatee nervously and threw down his filing cab.

    "Yeah, damn it, it takes a damned underdog cigar to wake me up and just...!?"

    But he couldn''t get hisint out.

    Creak-

    The door to his office opened, revealing a boy.

    Vikir Van Baskerville. The new Archon.

    He was finally officially in the office.

    "You''re the head of the office."

    The Chihuahua Baskerville gave Vikir a mock polite look.

    "Yes, sir. I''m Chihuahua Baskerville."

    "You don''t have a middle name."

    The Chihuahua''s expression hardened slightly at Vikir''s words.

    To not even have a middle name for a half-breed or illegitimate child was to be from outside the family.

    Usually, those brought in from the outside were indentured servants within the Baskervilles for three years before being given the Baskerville surname and formally admitted into the family, which was exactly what Staffordshire and Chihuahua had done.

    Strictly speaking, they are not blood rtives, but users.

    The new deputies would always use this as a way to discriminate against the neers.

    So Chihuahua had to put up with the bitterness of this atmosphere.

    But.

    "Good."

    Vikir''s assessment came as a surprise.

    As the Chihuahua''s eyes widened, Vikir recalled a memory from the past.

    "Chihuahua Baskerville, yes, I recognize the name.

    He''s a skinny guy, and his goatee gives him the image of a lowly ganeshin, but he''s surprisingly kind-hearted.

    And because he was an outsider, he faced a lot of discrimination, and his aplishments were oftenbeled as those of a ruler or deputy ruler.

    This was something that Vikir identified with.

    Vikir also doesn''t trust his own family members, and outsiders with proven credentials are much more trustworthy.

    "I took a quick look at your bio on the way in. You''re from Underdog City, right?"

    "Yes? Yes, yes, I''m a native, born and raised here."

    "Then you know they of thend better than I, a neer to the city."

    "...That''s right."

    The Chihuahua hesitated to answer, then realized he shouldn''t have.

    He knew from experience that this would be followed by a string of "If you know so much, why don''t you do it?", "If you''re so good, why are you working for me?", "How dare you try to boss me around?", "Why don''t you just do it all?", and so on.

    But once again, Vikir''s answer was unexpected.

    "I know the hard work of the people who actually run on the field, and I have no intention of interfering with their principles, customs, or styles."

    The Chihuahua went nk at that.

    He hadn''t expected to hear these words from someone from within the family.

    Naturally, he was expecting a sense of privilege and to tear down all the old customs as bad.

    "Well, at least you don''t seem to be a carcinogenic character.

    If it didn''t do any good, at least it wouldn''t do any harm.

    While the Chihuahua breathed a sigh of relief, Vikir flipped through the papers on his desk.

    Parax.

    The sound of the papers being flipped, and the Chihuahua didn''t expect Vikir to be looking at them.

    But to his surprise, Vikir was looking at all of them carefully.

    And then. Closing the papers, Vikir said.

    "I don''t see anything wrong with the legitive system, but there are a lot of oddities in the judicial system."

    "What? You''ve seen all that, the bird?"

    Chihuahua asked in amazement. The papers here are hundreds of pages long.

    But Vikir already knew a lot about the Underdog City.

    It was one of the more prominent cities in the pre-Reversion spy and nting operations.

    "There are illegal gambling houses, brothels, ve auctions, and all sorts of private banking going on in the territory. The underground economy of Underdog City is probably quite substantial."

    The Chihuahua''s eyes narrowed.

    Vikir continued.

    "Perhaps these are the factors that led to the departure of the previous deputy magistrates. It will not be easy to break the cycle without some sort ofpromise."

    "...."

    "Aye. What do you think, you underdog native?"

    Vikir asks outright, and the Chihuahua can only twitch his lips.

    Not only has Vikir grasped all these documents and gotten to the heart of Underdog City''s core issues, but he''s also consulted with her on the most important issues without looking down on her as a subordinate from the outside.

    And he came to me on his first day, even a day in advance!

    At this sudden turn of events, which defiedmon sense, the Chihuahua could only stammer, unable to answer.

    Vikir smirks.

    "It''s actually quite easy to take down an underground economy, you just have to get to the heart of the matter, hidden amongst the dotty remnants ofwlessness."

    In a previous life, Vikir had a long history of battling illegal organizations in the underdog city.

    As a result, he knew almost everything about who wasmitting what crimes and where they were hiding.

    He even knew the locations and identities of the bureaucrats who were taking bribes.

    ''It''s worth it,'' I thought, ''to look through the ck books left over from the pre-Regression busting of the illegal organizations.

    It''s the job of a deputy magistrate to make and enforcews.

    Vikir got right to work.

    "I honor all thews that havee before. I''m just adding one neww to them."

    "A neww?"

    "Yes. It won''t be very long, a few lines at most."

    Vikir''s eyes lit up.

    "Within a week, we will have dried up the seeds of Underdog City''s underground economy."

    Short and bold, he finished and floated off to the Academy.

    There was a war on crime toe, and somews that would be necessary.

    "And to create and enforce thesews, we need a rationale."

    Hearing Vikir murmur, the Chihuahua felt herself slowly being drawn into the strange aura the boy exuded.

    She couldn''t help but ask.

    "What''s the point? Why do you want to fightwlessness...?"

    "I''m still young, and above all, am I not a rookie who will be joining the force tomorrow?"

    Vikir looked back at the Chihuahua and smirked.

    "Isn''t the least you could do is give me a ''warning''?"

    "...?"

    The Chihuahua shakes his head, unable to understand Vikir''s words.

    But Vikir doesn''t bother to exin further.

    Instead, he strokes his chin as he looks out the window of the ruler''s office and down at the bar.

    Pour, drink. The gathering to wee the new Deputy Archon, Vikir, is alreadyrge.

    In fact, the party was going strong even without him.

    And Vikir, who should be the center of attention, is sitting in the high council chambers right now, nning tomorrow''s events.

    "...Yes. You gotta shit to catch shit flies."

    Vikir''s voice, muttering in a low voice, had an edge to it that didn''t belong to a 15-year-old.

    And the Chihuahua thought.

    Maybe this encounter with the boy in front of him would change his entire life.

 Chapter 29: Special Laws of Vikir (2)

    <h4>Chapter 29: Special Laws of Vikir (2)</h4>

    Dortmeyer Street, the main street of the metropolitan underdog.

    A notice on arge banner hung in the center of the crowded street.

    It was unusual for the ruling government to post a notice here, but the content of the announcement itself was nothing new.

    <Article 00, Section 0 of the Constitution of the Autonomous Region of Baskerville. Law on the Prohibition of Illegal Trafficking in Persons... Penalty: Death>

    <Constitution of the Autonomous Region of Baskerville, Article 00, Section 0. Law prohibiting illegal gambling... Penalty: wrist amputation>

    <Constitution of the Autonomous Region of Baskerville, Article 00, paragraph 0. Law on the Prohibition of Illegal Private Banking... Penalty: Eyeball removal>

    <Article 00, paragraph 0 of the Constitution of the Autonomous Region of Baskerville. Law on the prohibition of illegal brothels... Criminalization: Facial tattooing>.

    <Constitution of the Autonomous Region of Baskerville, Article 00, Section 0. Law against illegal lobbying... Sentence: deportation from the territory> .

    .

    .

    Allws that were originally there.

    They are quite strict because they are thews of a territory controlled by Ironblood Baskerville.

    But few citizens trusted them to be upheld.

    "Chet. Laws only favor those with power."

    "It''s all the same to the big guys."

    "Isn''t it a world where thew-abiding are the losers?"

    "Thew is far away, the fist is closer."

    The citizens of Underdog City, which has an unusually high crime rate, scoff at the Manahan Law.

    They''ve seen it all before, how the bureaucrats from Baskerville, the fat cats, and the second and third generations of Sedoga collude to get their way.

    The moneyed, the powerful, and the mighty make it work in their favor, interpret it, enforce it, and....

    If you''re broke, poor, and powerless, there''s nothing you can do about it.

    All they can do is cry, drink, me themselves for their bad luck, or take out their anger on those less fortunate and weaker than them.

    Underdog citizens ustomed to this fate are naturally distrustful of thew.

    "Well, at least the previous deputy magistrates were busted for bribery, so maybe it will make a difference."

    "Of course not, the new deputy from Baskerville is 15 years old."

    "What? Fifteen is the same age as my youngest daughter. What''s a girl like that supposed to do...."

    "That''s what I''m saying. Pretty soon she''ll be roasting in the lobby of the local lords."

    Public opinion was not very favorable to the new deputy.

    Some cite his age, some cite his unwrittenws, some cite his scattered gangs, and some cite the myriad temptations that await the novice bureaucrat.

    Just then.

    "Hey, guys,e on down to the main square! Big news!"

    The already bustling ce became even more bustling.

    People rush to the square to see what''s going on.

    Thousands and thousands of people.

    And in the middle of it all, as if a meteorite had fallen, there is an empty spot.

    A circr space where no one has set foot.

    In the center of it all, a cold-faced boy stands with a stick.

    It was Vikir van Baskerville, the newest deputy magistrate, 15 years old.

    * * *

    Vikir held a stick in his hand.

    Seventy centimeters long. A small stake weighing about three kilograms.

    People crowded around to see the new deputy magistrate, but they never got close.

    That''s because of the mountainous energy emanating from the boy''s tiny body.

    Behind this untouchable aura, several government officials stood nervously.

    They were employees of the Executive Office, including Chihuahua Baskerville.

    "Oh, my God, what is he going to do?"

    "He''s been standing there since the crack of dawn, do you understand?"

    "There''s a lot of people here, wow-"

    The citizens and officials alike had no idea what Vikir was trying to do here.

    Then.

    "Listen."

    Seeing that the audience was more or less gathered, Vikir spoke.

    "I am the new deputy magistrate."

    The murmurs around him grew louder.

    "He''s that young?", "He looks even younger in person", "He''s cute", "What would a kid like that do?", and other unseriousments.

    Ignoring the stares and voices, Vikir continued.

    "I''m sure you''ve all seen the notice on the north side of the square."

    For a moment, the crowd''s eyes shifted to the north.

    Sure enough, there it was, aw written on arge banner.

    <Constitution of the Autonomous Region of Baskerville, Article 00, Section 0. Law against tax evasion... Sentence: kneecap removal>.

    <Article 00, paragraph 0 of the Constitution of the Autonomous Region of Baskerville. Law against smuggling... Sentence: waterboarding

    <Constitution of the Autonomous Region of Baskerville, Article 00, paragraph 0. Law against illegal drugs... Sentence: tongue amputation>

    <Constitution of the Autonomous Region of Baskerville, Article 00, Section 0. Law Against Embezzlement of Munitions... Punishment: Extermination of three legs>

    <Constitution of the Autonomous Region of Baskerville, Article 00, Section 0. Law against adultery... Sentence: 600shes> .

    .

    .

    Well, they''re familiarws that aren''t followed.

    Laws that are only abstract to the weak who have no money, no power, and no strength.

    The number ofmoners punished by thesews since their inception is unknown, and the number of nobles and noblemen punished is zero, a cold reality.

    The people''s gaze shifted away from the banner and back to Vikir.

    Vikir continued.

    "Those are thews that have been in ce since time immemorial, the veryws that have kept Baskerville''s self-governance alive."

    A small chuckle escaped him.

    It was a clear mockery ofws that were not being followed, of a justice system that was not being followed except by the rich, powerful, and mighty.

    But Vikir did not seek out and punish theughter.

    "...."

    He simply scanned the public with an indifferent gaze.

    It was an attitude thaty somewhere between generosity and indifference.

    Vikir continued, his voice dry again.

    "Thews of Baskerville still stand, and they will be upheld, despite the change in Vice-Regent."

    When Vikir didn''t respond to the audience''s jeers, they got a little bolder.

    "Pfft!", "Of course!", "Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.

    The Chihuahua office manager, who couldn''t believe what he was seeing, yelled from the back.

    "You people, what kind of safety do you think you''re talking about? This is a man from the Baskerville family! Will it take a de to slice through his throat to get him toe to his senses!"

    Chihuahua''s director is a local official who is well-liked by the citizens.

    So even the people who were booing him craned their necks in recognition.

    "Chet. Mr. Chihuahua is talking over there, let''s stop."

    "Gee, I wonder how the director is more charismatic than the deputy director."

    "I''d rather have Mr. Chihuahua be the deputy."

    "Look at that little guy. He can''t even respond to the boos without Mr. Chihuahua."

    "Thew is about to get even more fucked up."

    These are reactions that would have been unthinkable under normal circumstances, but Vikir''s youthfulness, youthful face, and indifference to the reactions around him allowed them to get away with it.

    "...."

    This time, Vikir didn''t react at all.

    Even in this atmosphere of beingpared to and devalued by his subordinate Chihuahua, Vikir simply stood there with an expressionless face.

    The city officials, including Chihuahua''s secretary general, blushed and didn''t know what to do.

    Meanwhile, even the citizens, who were booing at Vikir''s unresponsive behavior, were feeling drained.

    "Maybe he''s just a kid, but he can''t handle these insults."

    "How can a kid like him be expected to enforce thew?"

    "He''s just going to let the criminals run rampant ... for a while."

    Gazes of abandonment and resignation, mockery and anger, pity and contempt, were being directed at one Vikir.

    And then.

    Vikir raised the stick he was holding high.

    And then.

    ...poof!

    He drove it straight into the ground.

    Ten centimeters into the ground.

    It''s pretty heavy, but it''s only a small stake.

    A child could easily pull it out.

    ...?

    When all the citizens are looking puzzled.

    Vikir, who had taken a few steps back, spoke up.

    "I am hereby promulgating a new specialw under the legitive authority of the Deputy Magistrate."

    Article 1, Section 1 of the Vikir Special Law.

    "Whoever pulls this stake will be paid 100 million gold in cash."

    It was as simple as that.

 Chapter 30: Special Law of Vikir (3)

    <h4>Chapter 30: Special Law of Vikir (3)</h4>

    -Vikir Special Law, Article 1, Paragraph 1-.

    -The person who pulls this stake (hereinafter referred to as "the stake") shall be paid 100,000,000 gold immediately, as determined by Deputy Vikir Van Baskerville.

    Aw made and enforced by the young Deputy Magistrate at the age of fifteen, upon his first appointment.

    No one in the legiture objected to thisw being made.

    No one in the legiture objected to thew being enacted, because they had no idea what it was for or what it was intended to do.

    The citizens looked dumbfounded.

    "What, you''re going to give us 100 million?"

    "You''ve got to be kidding me. One hundred million gold is four years'' worth of rust rods for ordinary people."

    "You''re offering 100 million for a wooden stick?"

    "What''s this for, a show?"

    People chattered. They all stare at Vikir with unreadable expressions.

    And that included Chihuahua Baskerville and other officials from the Enforcement Division.

    The chatter only increased slightly, but when no one stepped forward, Vikir spoke again.

    "Anyone else?"

    No one answered the question.

    By this time, Vikir had picked up his quill and scribbled a few more words on the notice.

    -Vikir''s Special Law, Article 1, Section 2-.

    -The person who pulls this stake (hereinafter referred to as the "stake") shall be paid an additional 900,000,000 gold, as determined by the Deputy Magistrate, Vikir Van Baskerville.

    One hundred million gold and nine hundred million more.

    "Whoever pulls this stake will be paid one billion gold in cash."

    A billion gold! That''s a sum of money that no ordinary man can touch until he dies.

    The people began tough.

    "This is ridiculous."

    "Are you kidding me? What kind of fool would do this?"

    "Hey, kid, don''t y around, let''s go in!"

    "This is pretty funny now that I look at it, isn''t it some kind of stand-upedy?"

    The people gathered in the square were stunned by the absurdity of the situation.

    Some of them even openly call Vikir a clown.

    But Vikir remains nonchnt.

    "Is anyone here?"

    He asks, and he hears a fewughing responses from around him.

    The faces of the enforcement officials, including Chihuahua Baskerville, turn bright red.

    "Why is the embarrassment on us!

    The officials in the back are fidgeting, unable to withstand the taunts of the citizens.

    Vikir nonchntly raises his brush.

    -Article 1, paragraph 3 of the Vikir Special Law-.

    -To the person who pulls this stake (hereinafter referred to as "the stake"), there shall be paid an additional 9,000,000,000 gold, as determined by the Deputy Magistrate, Vikir Van Baskerville.

    A total of ten billion.

    At the mention of this sum, the room fell silent at once.

    A deathly silence.

    "Whoever pulls this stake will be paid 10 billion gold in cash."

    Article 3 of the Special Law of Vikir was proimed.

    The stares and sneering taunts are gone, and the central square is silent, as if nothing is alive.

    The absence of sound, despite the huge crowds of people, gave me chills.

    Chihuahua Baskerville and all the officials of the Executive Office were momentarily overwhelmed by the silence on such a massive scale.

    But Vikir remained nonchnt.

    "Is anyone there?"

    This time, no one answered the question.

    The citizens stared, unable tough or talk.

    "What, what is this? What''s going on?"

    "Are you really offering 10 billion? Should we leave?"

    "Are you crazy? You know what you''ll get if you leave."

    "Look at that knife in his waistband. I don''t want to be executed for being a rich bastard."

    You never know.

    Why is this young deputy magistrate, who has just been appointed, doing this?

    No one in the room had any idea why anyone would want to burn 10 billion dors on a stake that anyone could easily pull out.

    "Could it be that the stake is really heavy, so heavy that a normal person can''t even pull it out?"

    "Not likely. I''ve seen government employees carrying them around."

    "Hey, don''t go out there! They''ve got something else up their sleeve!"

    "In times like this, it''s best to stay out of it."

    It''s quiet in the square, with only the asional shouting match.

    "...."

    Then Vikir picked up his brush again.

    He was about to create Article 4 of the Special Law.

    "I... let me try!"

    From the crowd, a palm the size of a small film rose.

    It was a girl in shabby clothes, a basket of wilted flowers in her hand.

    She had a limp, and her face was pockmarked with spots that suggested malnutrition.

    She raises her hand and steps forward, only to be stopped by a gracious old man.

    Presumably a neighbour.

    "Hey, Judy, aren''t you Judy! You don''t know what you''re doing out here!"

    "Grandpa, I''m fine, my mum''s sick and I''ve got to do something, there''s no flowers for the bullies these days...."

    "You naive boy, you''ll get stabbed if you step in at a time like this! You shouldn''t be so ignorant of the world...."

    "Hehe. If anything happens to me, please do me a favour, mum."

    Judy stepped out into the square, avoiding the disapproving neighbour''s grandfather.

    Vikir looked down at Judy with a cold stare.

    "Pull it out."

    Judy clutched her hair as tightly as she could.

    The citizens looked at the little girl with uneasy eyes.

    Partly pitying, partly mocking, partly intrigued to see what would happen to the poor little thing in the next few seconds.

    Meanwhile, Judy was breaking out in a cold sweat.

    ''Oh,e on, they''re going to have to kill me,'' she thought, ''I''ve been aughing stock in public like this... and they''re going to have to give me a few bucks.''

    How much would it cost to be a clown in front of so many people?

    ''I hope I can get a basket of flowers for it.''

    Then I can take a steaming bowl of meat porridge to my sick mum.

    Judy stretched out her hand under Vikir''s cold gaze.

    Her trembling little hand gripped the stake.

    And then.

    ...snap!

    The stake was pulled out.

    The stake was light enough to be pulled out with the strength of a girl who hadn''t even eaten blood porridge.

    "...."

    Judy was baffled by the ease with which the stake was pulled out.

    So was the crowd watching, and so were the officials from the Enforcement Office.

    "Pulled it."

    "I got it."

    "Pulled it."

    "He''s got it."

    The chatter around me grows louder.

    What will happen to the girl who pulled the stake now?

    That was the initial concern, the one that had the crowd gathered here on the edge of their seats.

    And then.

    "...."

    Vikir raised his hand.

    He moved his hand to his waistband. It was where the hilt of his sword dangled.

    Seeing it, Judy squeezed her eyes shut.

    "He''s being executed.

    She didn''t know what the crime was, but it was probably some sort of insult to nobility, some sort of insolence, some sort of greed, some sort of vice.

    In that brief moment, Judy thought of all the people she cared about. Who would take care of her mum if she left like this?

    Just then.

    "No!"

    A near-terminal scream erupted.

    A skinny woman burst through the crowd.

    Her clothes were rags, her body skeletal and skinned, and she looked like she was dying, but somehow she found the strength to pull Judy into her arms and kneel before Vikir.

    "My lord, please, please have mercy!"

    Judy''s mother. She fell at Vikir''s feet with Judy and began to plead.

    "The lowly dared to be arrogant, not guessing the intentions of the High. Please forgive me just once, I''m a good... child, I''m a good girl, I''ve survived my father''s death, I''ve fed my sick mother, and I''ve been selling flowers on the streets day after day, even though I''m sick...."

    The mother began to sob uncontrobly.

    "Please forgive us... lowly things like us don''t even dare to be pressed with the blood of your sword... please turn a blind eye just this once, please...."

    The mother shed her forehead on the ground, begging for her daughter''s life.

    At her cries, the crowd began to get angry.

    "...ma, that''s good! What did Judy do wrong!"

    "There was never another girl in this market as sincere and good as Judy!"

    "What did that mother and daughter do wrong!"

    "Who are you to persecute Judy when you have the power!"

    The atmosphere in the square turned nasty.

    The crowd, which had been as quiet as death, began to boil.

    The officials, including Chihuahua, shuffle their feet nervously in what looks like a riot at any moment.

    ...Then.

    Vikir reached for Judy.

    His hand passed over the hilt of his sword and clutched the leather hilt behind it.

    Tsk-tsk.

    Vikir thrust the heavy leather sack in front of Judy''s eyes.

    Judy stares, dumbfounded, at the sack and then at Vikir''s face.

    Then, with trembling hands, she takes the sack and hands it over.

    She pulls on the straps of this incredibly heavy leather sack.

    ...Pow!

    A blindingly bright golden glow emanates from within the sack.

    Gold coins. Countless, countless, countless.

    For a moment, the room falls silent again.

    Judy, her mother, the countless others watching the poor mother and daughter, all fell silent in unison.

    Vikir spoke.

    "Ten billion gold."

    The words were like some kind of oracle.

    Judy and her mother were simply kneeling there, dumbfounded, in front of a sum of money they had never seen, heard, or imagined.

    And it was the same for everyone watching.

    "This is how the ...w works."

    By this time, Vikir had dered to all the citizens filling the square.

    "It will be upheld."

 Chapter 31: Special Laws of Vikir (4)

    <h4>Chapter 31: Special Laws of Vikir (4)</h4>

    The story of the girl who won ten billion by moving a stick quickly spread throughout Underdog City and all of Baskerville''s territory.

    Rumour has it that Underdog City even provided a bodyguard to protect the girl''s winnings.

    ''Such is thew. It will be upheld.

    The short speech of the newly appointed young deputy magistrate was on the lips of countless people.

    Naturally, Vikir''sw, or "Vikir''s Special Law," became even more famous than Baskerville''s self-governance.

    The gossips were saying.

    "The new deputy magistrate is different, isn''t he?"

    "Vikir says that once he says something, he does it no matter what."

    "They say the crime rate in Underdog City has dropped by half since that day."

    "It used to be said that thew was far away and the fist was near, but now thew is near and the fist is far away."

    Break thew and you''re punished; follow thew and you''re rewarded.

    This simple principle impressed the citizens.

    A society that stands by its principles.

    The distrust of thew, which was not being followed, was washed away after that day.

    The day after the specialw was promulgated, illegal activities were noticeably reduced and the crime rate was halved.

    The darkness that had been so deeply rooted in the underdog city had been cleared by this one performance.

    * * *

    Underdog City Hall.

    The director of Chihuahua Baskerville was smiling and writing on a signboard.

    <Imokji Shin (��ľ֮��)>

    A banner to be hung in the Governor''s office from this day forward.

    Vikir stared at it from Chihuahua''s side, then spoke up.

    "Your handwriting is very good, Chihuahua."

    "Sure. I''ve never met anyone with better penmanship than me since I was born, and I''ve gotten so good at imitating other people''s handwriting because the Archons always make me sign for them...."

    The Chihuahua didn''t finish his sentence.

    Vikir had blurted out something unexpected.

    "Can''t I learn to do that too?"

    The Chihuahua''s eyes widened at Vikir''s words.

    It was the first time a high-snouted member of the Baskerville n from the main family had ever asked him to do something that wasn''t amand.

    Moreover, despite being a sword eater, he was interested in brushes.

    "Of course I can teach you, I''d be honoured!"

    "Thank you. I''ll ask you whenever I have time."

    The Chihuahua hums and teases the brush after hearing the praise.

    Vikir watched him in wonder.

    Chihuahua Baskerville.

    He was an outsider, amoner who had spent three years as an indentured servant to the Baskervilles before being given the surname of Baskerville and formally integrated into the family.

    Unlike the swordsmen who be Guardian Knights and are trained in Baskerville-style swordsmanship, administrators are paid less and receive no special training.

    While swordsmen are motivated to be part of the Baskerville family, as mastery of the Baskerville style of swordsmanship improves their skills by several levels, administrators like Chihuahua have little to attract them other than honour.

    ''As I understand it, ... he joined Baskerville with the sole intention of serving his homnd.''

    Vikir had seen the Chihuahua a few times before his regression.

    A man who, for all that he looked like a ganeshin, had the temper of a high priestess, and who spouted off to the rulers and deputy rulers.

    And a capable administrator who was relegated to the fringes and never saw the light of day until he was old and dead.

    Vikir was thinking about the Chihuahua.

    "By the way, you''re doing a great job, sir."

    The Chihuahua finished his whistle and looked at Vikir.

    "Who would have thought you could pull off such an unconventional performance, Chihuahua? I''m truly blown away, and I''ve been here for 20 years, just as a clerk, and I''ve never been so thrilled. I''m still shaking in my boots."

    Vikir nodded slightly.

    "Thews of Baskerville are actually pretty good. But it''s not enough to put aw out there, it''s important that the people believe in it and follow it."

    "You''re right, and you''re absolutely right. But that''s not what the previous Deputy Magistrates thought."

    "We can''t afford to be angry at the manors for their distrust of thew or their ignorance of it, so I''ve been thinking about how to engage them and make a strong impression on them."

    In fact, this is a performance that Camus of the House of Morg would perform quite some timeter.

    As soon as he ascends to the position of Lord of the Manor, Camus of Morg, who willter be known as the Auspicious Weather, bes a formidable figure of power and turns his domain into a strongw-and-order region.

    The lords of thend would not pick up money that fell to the ground, and there were no quarrels among them, so much so that the crime rate dropped to almost zero.

    ''... However, his reign of terror did not endear him to the lords.

    However, in the midst of the war against the demons, Camu''s iron fist was able to increase human survival rates by leaps and bounds, and indeed, even after the Generation of Destruction, Morg''s estate had thergest poption of survivors left.

    ...That was thest thing on his mind right now.

    "Now it''s about going forward."

    Vikir said, looking down at the map of Underdog City.

    "With 10 billion in prize money, we''re going to have to find a way to fill the hole, right?"

    With that, Vikir picked up a pen and began drawing red X''s all over the map.

    As if he knew exactly where everything was, Vikir drew an X in every nook and cranny.

    X X X X X X X X X...

    In no time at all, the number of X''s on the map rose to over a hundred.

    "These are the ces where illegal organisations are hiding or will hide in the future. We''re going to crack down on them one by one and return the ck money to the treasury."

    "Uh, how do you know these ces are where criminals operate?"

    "I smell it."

    Vikir presses his nose to his lips and smirks.

    Baskerville''s hounds have a keen sense of smell.

    With the dazed Chihuahua behind him, Vikir continues to recite his n.

    "In militaryw, the highest form of procurement is from enemy territory. If we rob everything here, we''ll raise a lot of tax revenue. We can use it to bolster the welfare system for the poor."

    "Yeah. That''s despite the crime rate being cut in half. The performance has reduced the overt crimes, but the ones that remain have be more stealthy and sophisticated."

    But it doesn''t matter.

    Vikir knew the location of all of these illegal outfits, and the key yers at the heart of them.

    "It''s an area we patrolled and cracked down on tirelessly before we went back.

    I still have vivid memories of being a hound dog during the ''War on Crime'', frantically biting rats in the back alleys.

    I also knew the tricks of the trade because some of my close colleagues had been bribed.

    I know how criminals think and behave, where they hide, what they do, how they operate, and how far they go.

    I also knew all the channels through which underground money would flow for at least the next 25 years.

    Whirring, whirring, whirring.

    Beelzebub, lurking in the artery in my wrist, senses life and begins to twitch slightly.

    It''s hungry for blood.

    Just then.

    "Deputy!"

    The door opens and a clerk enters, looking puzzled.

    "There''s a request for an interview at ...."

    Both Vicky and Chihuahua turn their heads at the words.

    Chihuahua asks first.

    "Who''s requesting an interview on official time? You''ve been here less than two days."

    "Well, that is. The Youth Self-Governance Committee of the local government office would like to meet with you once...."

    Then the Chihuahua''s face stiffened.

    It looked like it had finally arrived.

    Vikir broke the ice.

    "So, you''re saying you want to see the farting bastards in themunity?"

    "...That''s right, the youth wing of the Xiangcheng is made up of the second and third generations of the local retainers, especially the influential Sedoga."

    He''s asking to see Vikir among the youth of other smaller families within the Baskervilles'' domain, indigenous families that have long held sway in the area.

    Most of them have direct or indirect ties to the Baskervilles, often by blood, sometimes by dy, sometimes by marriage.

    The Chihuahua spoke with an air of disdain in his voice that he could barely conceal, even with a tightly clenched fist.

    "It''s the Youth Autonomy Committee of the Mali Township Office, but it''s really just a messy social club. Apparently they have something to say about the ''Vikir Special Law''."

    "...hmm."

    Hearing that, Vikir leaned back on the couch, chin in hand.

    "When you make aw to root out absurdity, it''s the most corrupt ces that make the most noise.

    The first bacsh against Vikir''s specialw. Was iting from the Autonomous Council?

    Turning to his Chihuahua, who was watching him anxiously, Vikir spoke briefly.

    "The dung beetles smelled it first."

    Hadn''t he beenying out the shit since his first day on the job, knowing that would happen?

    Now it''s time to get rid of the city-eating pests.

 Chapter 32: The Social Club (1)

    <h4>Chapter 32: The Social Club (1)</h4>

    Arge high-rise hotel in the centre of Underdog City.

    On the 69th and 70th floors, arge club is located.

    ''Burning suspension''

    An exclusive social club where the best and brightest of Underdog City gather.

    It''s where the rich and powerful gather to burn off their youth.

    Champagnes costing as much as 100 million gold a bottle were being flown in, and fast-paced, upbeat music was ring.

    Hookahs of an unknown variety send up clouds of smoke and colourful lights bathe them in colour.

    The atmosphere was sovish and extravagant that it could have been an imperial court ball.

    "Here, pile it up!"

    "Bring it all in!"

    "Let''s build a tower today!"

    A room tucked away in the deepest recesses of the club.

    Seven young apprentices were hanging out in this room, which costs 10 million gold for six hours and is only essible to VVIPs.

    Champagne, costing more than 100 million gold a bottle, is being brought in on ice.

    In the centre of arge table, champagne sses were stacked high in a pyramid.

    At the bottom, 100 sses are arranged in the shape of a 10*10 square.

    On top are 81 champagne sses in a 9*9 shape.

    On top of that, 64 champagne sses in the shape of 8*8.

    49 on top of that, 36 on top of that, 25 on top of that, 16 on top of that, 9 on top of that, 4 on top of that...

    Onest ss of champagne was ced on top,pleting the pyramid-shaped champagne tower.

    The seven assembled masters chuckle and pour the 100 million gold champagne, Don Quixote Perignon 666, from the bottle into the top champagne ss.

    And then.

    cackle cackle...

    After filling the top ss, the champagne begins to drip into the lower sses, gradually filling them up.

    When the bottle of champagne was halfway empty, the masters ruthlessly threw it away and ordered a new one.

    And so on.

    The champagne that filled the sses at the top would trickle down and fill the sses below.

    Thus the 385 sses that made up the tower of champagne were all full.

    The masterughed and said

    "Hey, drink what you spill on the table."

    Just then, the waiters standing at the entrance to the room rushed over.

    "Thank you, brothers."

    "Thanks to you, I''ve tasted such precious liquor, and I''m properly pampered."

    "We will serve you with all our souls today."

    The waiters smile and lick the drops of champagne that have spilled onto the table.

    The masters chuckle and sprinkle gold coins on their faces.

    "This is the trickle-down effect."

    Champagne dripping from the top, filling the sses below, soaking the table, and seven menughing at the sight of it.

    These men were the core members of the local government''s Youth Autonomy Committee.

    It''s just a civilian organisation made up of second- and third-generation local tohu, yujiu, and sedo, but their influence in themunity cannot be ignored.

    They had enough money and power to hold some low-level government positions, but they were still aristocrats, lording it over themon people.

    They had lived in the region for a long time, so they were aware of the situation around them.

    As such, the Baskervilles also gave them some power and allowed them to handle troublesome matters on their own.

    In exchange for a small amount of tribute and taxes, they were granted some autonomy by the Baskervilles.

    ...In fact, historically speaking, all of the masters here are descendants of families that were defeated and relegated to the margins of the Empire''s central power struggles.

    With the exception of the Baskervilles, who have been sent by the Emperor to expand the borders of the Empire, all of them are nothing special.

    But the young people gathered here don''t seem to think so.

    "It''s better to be the head of a snake than the tail of a dragon."

    "It''s better to y here, away from the prying eyes of the imperial family?"

    "Yes. I went to a club in the imperial capital the other day, and it was much more luxurious here."

    "Besides, we''re guarded by those Baskervilles. How safe are we?"

    "Giggle giggle �C aren''t the Baskervilles our hounds at this point?"

    The masters were not without their faults.

    While the Baskervilles were preupied with expanding their borders, they were rotting away inside.

    So where did the moneye from to pay for all this luxury and debauchery?

    The main source of ie for local tax collectors is actually quite modest.

    At best, the water taxes from the reservoirs that water the fields, road use taxes, tolls, and the proceeds from the sale of livestock... are just a small amount of money to pay the butlers and serfs.

    Both the money going out and the moneying in are small, but... in fact they had a hidden source of ie.

    Illegal ve auctions.

    This is the kidnapping, imprisonment, and sale of unauthorised persons into very.

    In recent years, the Baskervilles'' aggressive territorial expansion has disced an increasing number of barbarian peoples, so they''ve been sneaking around the world, luring them in with tricks or kidnapping them by force to sell them.

    In other words, they would work for free for the Baskervilles and pick up the crumbs.

    With no taxes and a steady flow of business, money naturally umtes.

    With the ck money they earned, the masters were able to spend their youth on fire.

    They can''t put it in the bank because it''s illegally earned, so they burn it all in cash machines.

    "The champagne tower is full! Go let the kids in! Bring in the good ones."

    They sent the waiters away for a while.

    Then we started chattering amongst ourselves.

    "By the way," I said, "it''s so nice to have an uptight family like the Messinadnaros gone. We can have fun without all the prying eyes."

    "Actually, that''s the way it should be. We''re ying with our own money."

    "Good thing we framed them and sent them packing, huh?"

    "Let''s not let them be members in the future."

    They smoked bubbling hookahs and lookednguid.

    One of them suddenly looked up.

    "By the way. By the way, have you guys heard about the new deputy?"

    "Uh, yeah, I put in a request for an interview. He''s got the Barnes surname."

    "Hmm. Well, if he''s a half-breed, he must be a bastard."

    "You should feel honoured to be called by us."

    "Cackle, cackle, he''s going toe running."

    They always did something called "taming the junior bureaucrats" when new deputymissioners came in.

    It''s not a big deal, it''s just a little bit of an extravagant party to dazzle them.

    It was like putting a leash on a dog, saying, "If you''re going to follow us, you''re going to listen to us." The masters would chuckle.

    The masters chuckled.

    "His name is Vikir. Have you ever heard of him?"

    "I don''t know, I''ve never heard of him."

    "She''s 15. They say this is her first time out of the family."

    "What? Isn''t she a total brat?"

    "Yeah, he''s a brat. He''s got a huge drinking problem the first time he came to city hall. He must be a bit of a wreck."

    "C''mon, if you think he''ll fit in with us."

    Then one of the masters had a brilliant idea.

    "Why don''t we tease him a little bit, while we''re at it?"

    He extended his index finger and exined his n.

    "Later, we''ll have a big party and invite him over. We''ll get the best liquor, we''ll get all the girls, and we''ll have a good, old-fashioned fuck."

    "And?"

    "And thenter, after the party, we''ll make him pay for the drinks."

    The masters burst outughing.

    "Okay, okay, that sounds like fun."

    "Don''t you think his eyes will pop out when he sees you begging?"

    "You need to realise that your eldest son is spending this much money to entertain you. If you take it for granted, you''ll go away."

    "I don''t think a 15-year-old civil servant would have the money, and he wouldn''t be able to find a ce to get it because he''d be reprimanded if he reported it to his family."

    "Then you can say it was a joke and pay him backter."

    The masters had a n for the new deputy bureaucrat, and how to roast him.

    Just then.

    "Gentlemen, the girls are here-!"

    A waiter burst through the door with a huge grin on his face.

    Soon, numerous women peeked into the club room, amazed at the luxury.

    Some of them were familiar faces, and the masters waved at them.

    "Hey, you''re back again?"

    "After all that?"

    "Send him away. We''re happy for you, ugh."

    "Why? I thought she was pretty."

    "Hey,e over here and sit down this time!"

    One by one, the women entered the room.

    ...See?

    At the end of the line of girls, there was a strange one.

    A boy, maybe in his early teens? A very young looking boy.

    He followed the women into the room from the back of the queue, and it was so natural that the waiters didn''t even bother to stop him.

    The seven masters scanned the women, cracking crude jokes, and finally spotted the boy.

    "But what''s with him? Did you bring a male waiter? Well, he looks cute."

    "Oh, don''t you know him?"

    "No, I don''t."

    The teachers, the waiters, and the women all look puzzled.

    What is this kid doing here?

    One of the waiters raises his eyebrows.

    "He walked in so boldly that no one thought anything of it. How dare you, you little shack, tell me where...!"

    But he couldn''t quite reach out to grab the boy by the hair.

    Oops.

    The sound of something thick and hard breaking.

    The waiter suddenly realised that his wrist had been turned in a strange direction.

    "Ugh!"

    The boy had just broken a grown man''s thick forearm with sheer brute force.

    "What, what, you!"

    Three or four waiters pounced at once, but it took less than a second before they were all on the floor.

    The masters'' faces hardened slightly.

    "What''s with you, kid? What are you doing here? Do you know who your brothers are?"

    "I know."

    The boy''s voice was devoid of any emotion.

    "They''re the idiots from Xiangcheng."

    No respect, no fear, no cowering, not even a hint of contempt.

    The masters were stunned for a moment.

    Then, with a single, heartyugh.

    "That''s right. We''re the idiots from Xiangcheng."

    "He must know who we are."

    "Then we only need to know who he is."

    "Kid, who are you?"

    The masters were debating whether this was funny or not.

    But it was.

    The boy''s next words wiped the smiles off their faces.

    "Vikir."

    The new Deputy Magistrate.

    Vikir van Baskerville is here.

    The apprentices slid their feet off the table.

    Then he rose to his feet and asked.

    "Vice... Exarch? What brings you here....?"

    "You called for me."

    At Vikir''s words, the masters exchanged another nk look.

    Then.

    "Wahahahahaha- this is hot, Deputy! I didn''t think you''de so soon!"

    The mood is not good.

    Moreover, the masters had just been insulted, and their pride had been bruised.

    "Shall we start taming the new recruits right away?"

    "Sure. Let''s buy some liquor."

    "What if we roast them, boil them, sit them down, and then ask them to pay for their drinkster at the end of the party...?"

    But... their cute little n didn''t quite work out.

    ...Thud!

    Vikir mmed his hand on the table.

    And.

    Tsk, tsk, tsk...

    The ck aura of the Baskervilles emanated from him.

    The mana in Vikir''s body radiated through his hand and into the table.

    A ferocious resonance, a violent vibration.

    Boom, boom, boom, boom...

    On the table, in the sses, the champagne suddenly began to boil.

    And then.

    The great tower of champagne in the centre of the room changed.

    ...Pow!

    A single ss at the top of the champagne tower suddenly exploded.

    Numerous ss shards and champagne drops sparkled and scattered below.

    ...Boom!

    ...clink! ...clink!

    ...clink! ...clink! ...clink! ...clink!

    ...clink! ...clink! ...clink! ...clink! ...clink! ...clink!

    The four sses that were downstairs,

    nine sses downstairs,

    16 sses downstairs,

    and 25 sses downstairs,

    36 sses downstairs,

    49 sses downstairs,

    64 sses downstairs,

    81 sses downstairs,

    100 sses below that, all exploding and shattering one after the other.

    The champagne tower had copsed.

    It didn''t copse from the bottom, it exploded backwards from the top.

    Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding.

    Countless ss shards and champagne drops rained down on the VVIP room.

    Under the rain, the masters of Sedoga could only say one thing.

    "We were going to pay for the ...."

 Chapter 33: The Social Club (2)

    <h4>Chapter 33: The Social Club (2)</h4>

    The seven masters gathered in the VVIP room were all smart and ruthless.

    The House of Montnc, the House of Pierre, the House of Louis Vuitton, the House of Channel, the House of Ferragamo, the House of Hermes, the House of Prada.

    The seven indigenous families of the province in which they work have lived unnoticed by anyone except the Baskervilles.

    Even those from the Baskervilles have been persuaded by their wealth and the public sentiment behind them, and have be friends.

    Life had never gone their way before, so they assumed it would be the same this time.

    So, it''s true that I was a little naughty this time.

    ... but.

    This time, things were different.

    Hoo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo

    A shower of ss and champagne bubbles rained down on the VVIP room.

    The ss and boiling champagne reflect the brilliant light of the chandeliers.

    The seven masters of the Seven Families, whose entire bodies were drenched in the sharp, hot showers, wore dazed expressions.

    ''Did you just blow up the Champagne Tower with a mana resonance?

    ''Just by touching the table?

    ''And not from the bottom up, but from the top down?

    All of them had a basic understanding of martial arts in their own right, so they could see the absurdity of what Vikir was doing.

    To be able to channel mana into an object, cause it to vibrate with resonance, and then explode it at exactly the right spot was not something that could be achieved with normal mana proficiency.

    Moreover, the sses shattered from above, not below.

    It would take a master of the technique to shatter the ss on top of the table while the ss on the bottom is still intact.

    And the fact that the direction of action is vertical, not horizontal, adds to the difficulty.

    This means that you have to be able to manipte mana stalks that are much thinner and finer than microfibres, like limbs.

    Ultra-difficult mana maniption. The realm of the truly badass.

    There is only one thought on everyone''s minds.

    "Gradient!

    Monsters who can slice through boulders the size of their fists with their swords and knock down birds in flight with their momentum alone.

    I wonder if these masters, who are barely above the rank of Expert, are not some vague, untouchable powerhouse.

    "...."

    Vikir''s face remains expressionless.

    However, the ck aura coursing through his shoulders is that of a grim reaper.

    If death had a tangible form, wouldn''t it look like this?

    The masters, soaked in a shower of champagne, began to shiver.

    ''He''s crazy, he''s a 15-year-old kid!

    "Dude, you''re an Expert Intermediate, do something!

    "Shut up! You won''tst a second!

    In the midst of all the urgent exchanges of nces, one of the masters muttered in a dazed voice.

    "...That''s right, Vikir, I thought I''d heard of you!"

    At that, all eyes snapped to one side.

    He spoke in a stuttering tone.

    "Vikir van Baskerville. The supernova of House Baskerville! Dived for seven minutes before he was born, strangled two vipers in his cradle, hunted Cerberus at the age of eight, dueled and defeated House Morg''s Madness Castle...."

    The other masters'' faces change as if they''ve just heard some crazy urban legend.

    But... But what if they were really true?

    The gazes of the masters now turn to Vikir again.

    The symbol of the Gradient, the liquid aura.

    Unless the urban legends are true, there''s no way to exin the deathly aura that radiates from Vikir''s entire body.

    My God, what other 15-year-old kid in the world is already a Gradient at that age!

    Even in Baskerville, the home of geniuses, this has never happened before.

    Perhaps the same could be said for the Coliseum, the Imperial Academy, or even the entire Yellow City.

    In the end, the masters could only smile awkwardly and say something.

    "We tried to pay for the ...."

    I wonder if they realise that the grim smile they''ve always seen etched on other people''s faces is now etched on their own?

    Meanwhile. Vikir, hearing this, replied nonchntly.

    "Of course you will pay for the liquor you have consumed."

    Hearing this, the seven masters closed their mouths in disbelief.

    "Oh, by the way. We haven''t eaten yet.

    He had inadvertently given away his n to embarrass them.

    Still, since I hadn''t met Meg yet, I thought I could make a good excuse and get away with it.

    ... If only it weren''t for Vikir.

    He''s only 15 years old, but his soul is already worn out.

    Vikir saw right through what the seven masters were trying to do.

    "What, you''re going to y with me and then me me for the cost of your drinks?"

    The seven masters jumped and shook their heads at Vikir''s question, which seemed to pierce their veins like a ghost.

    "That, that would be impossible!"

    "Who would do such an unscrupulous thing!"

    "How dare anyone from the Baskerville family ask us to...."

    The seven masters felt.

    The other party wasn''t just strong inbat power. Their minds were also unstoppable.

    In the end, they lowered their tails.

    They had been arrogant enough to think that Baskerville was their dog, but now that they stood in front of Vikir, they could no longer afford to be so ruthless.

    Apparently, the Baskervilles'' hounds are not easily baked or boiled.

    But a certain amount of pride, built up over the years as the second generation of the local holding family, has allowed them to save some dignity forst.

    "Actually, we wanted to test you, Deputy Magistrate."

    The Mastersposed themselves and spoke in a polite manner.

    Vikir remained expressionless.

    Taking the silence to mean ''let''s hear it'', the Masters rxed and continued in a polite tone.

    "Honestly, Underdog City is quite corrupt, isn''t it?"

    "If you''re going to purify a city like this, you shouldn''t be able to resist such a temptation."

    "You are indeed worthy to lead us, I will follow."

    "Oh, let me take this great spirit as a lesson for the rest of my life!"

    "I will express it to you today, in such a way that you will not be disappointedter."

    They bowed once more to Vikir, and spoke in earnest voices.

    Some of them even winked at Vikir in an attempt to appear casual.

    And then.

    "...."

    One corner of Vikir''s mouth slowly lifted.

    A smile.

    This small changepletely changed the mood of the room.

    Just a moment ago, it had been a creepy, graveyard atmosphere.

    And that alone had been enough to terrify the Seven Masters.

    But now?

    An almost maddening sense of gravity.

    A suffocating pressure began to weigh down on the seven masters, as if they were being buried alive in an earthen tomb.

    Unable to breathe properly, they began to shiver, the smiles on their facespletely lost.

    Vikir walked slowly to the front of the seven masters, who were now cowering like frogs in a snake''s stomach.

    "A master can test his dog as much as he likes."

    "...."

    "But not the other way round. A dog can never test his master, under any circumstances."

    It was a moment that reminded her of Hugo''s teaching from long ago.

    Vikir paced slowly in front of the frozen masters.

    "You have all this money and power, so you''re not afraid, are you?" he asked.

    Unsurprisingly, there was no reply.

    Vikir continued.

    "It''s just that I''ve never seen anything really scary."

    So how dare you pretend to be expected, to be gentle, to be rxed.

    And the price of that "pretence" was heavy.

    Vikir pulled a flimsy stick from his arm.

    It was the very same stake that had won the girl a prize of ten billion not long ago.

    ...Billion!

    A dull noise.

    The stake bent for a moment, then flew out at a tremendous speed, smashing the face of the master in front of her into a bloody mess.

    The blow came from nowhere, with no end in sight.

    Teeth gnashing, spittle, blood, and tears snorting.

    In the time it took him to blink three times, Vikir struck him seven times across the face, head, neck, and shoulders, and then did the same to the others.

    The next thing you know, they''re all sprawled t on the floor of the VVIP room.

    Puck! Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!

    Vikir didn''t stop beating them for a long time after that.

    "Do you know why you were beaten?"

    "Ew! I don''t know! I don''t know! Why are you hitting me all of a sudden?"

    "If you don''t know, you must be beaten."

    Vikir swung the stake in a nonchnt tone.

    Looking at his expressionless face, the masters thought he might actually die at this rate.

    "Oh, I know, ugh, I think I know why you''re hitting me!"

    The dogs begged desperately through their busted lips, torn tongues, and broken teeth.

    They pleaded with their torn lips, torn tongues, broken teeth, and the red blood that gushed like a fountain from every inch of their heads.

    But the owner remained unimpressed.

    "Sweeten the deal."

    Vikir''s flogging doesn''t stop at the red light.

 Chapter 34: The Social Club (3)

    <h4>Chapter 34: The Social Club (3)</h4>

    The rumours spread quickly.

    A group of seven people who had been living high on the hog, indulging in extravagance and vice, had been arrested all at once.

    The citizens of Underdog City always talked about it whenever they got together in groups of three or more.

    "Well, they were trying to get in the way of the new Deputy Mayor, and they got caught."

    "Oh, aren''t they the ones who used to treat themon people like bugs, and now they''re in charge?"

    "But what do you think will happen to them? The new magistrate''s personality doesn''t seem normal, so they won''t just be released, will they?"

    "Aye, they''re still the second generation of a native family, I''m sure he''ll let them go with a moderate amount of humiliation."

    The crowd naturally turned their heads away.

    In the northern part of the central square, a banner was still fluttering in the wind.

    <Article 00, paragraph 0 of the Constitution of the Autonomous Region of Baskerville. Law on the Prohibition of Illegal Trafficking in Persons... Penalty: Death>

    <Constitution of the Autonomous Region of Baskerville, Article 00, Section 0. Law against illegal gambling... Penalty: wrist amputation>

    <Constitution of the Autonomous Region of Baskerville, Article 00, paragraph 0. Law on the Prohibition of Illegal Private Banking... Penalty: Eyeball removal>

    <Constitution of the Autonomous Region of Baskerville, Article 00, paragraph 0. Law on the prohibition of illegal brothels... Criminal offence: Facial tattooing

    <Constitution of the Autonomous Region of Baskerville, Article 00, Section 0. Law against illegal lobbying... Sentence: extraterritorial deportation> .

    .

    .

    As it was originallybelled.

    There were no exceptions to thew.

    There was no special provision for the rich and powerful to be forgiven.

    The crimes of the seven masters could not have been clearer.

    They were guilty of illegal sex work, illegal lobbying, illegal human trafficking, consuming and distributing drugs, and making ill-gotten gains in the process.

    Tax evasion, assault, and sexual assault were obvious options.

    So the sentence is clear.

    Death.

    No excuses, no mitigating circumstances.

    People chattered.

    "You''re going to execute the sons of those seven indigenous families?"

    "Fool, don''t you know the character of the new deputy? He burned ten billion on a single stake!"

    "If you kill those seven bastards, the repercussions will be devastating."

    "Why don''t we just give them a few good whacks and humiliate them?"

    "Yes. I don''t think they''ll get the death penalty, though."

    They all spoke in unison.

    This is a power game between the new politicians and the indigenous tycoons, and if thetter would just bow out and keep their heads down, everything would be smooth sailing.

    And just as people thought, Mont nc, Pierre, Louis Vuitton, Channel, Ferragamo, Herm��s, and Prada offered their sincere apologies to the new deputy.

    The local retainers bowed and entered.

    The citizens did the same and clicked their tongues when they saw the carriages representing each family,den withvish tributes, making their way to City Hall in the dead of night.

    The seven rascals who had been detained would now be released unharmed and would be given a good shouting match by theirndlord father.

    That was the end of it.

    The local keepers will either avenge this humiliation in some way, or they will bow down and look the other way, and for a time the seven rascals will do their time and keep quiet.

    The new, young deputy magistrate has scored a nice victory over the native wealthy.

    The citizens will be moderately pleased, moderately outraged, and moderately forgetful of this obvious oue.

    They will.

    ....

    ...No, I knew it would happen.

    Until this morning, when seven heads were hung in the centre of the main square.

    Seven heads, salted and disembowelled.

    Bereft of their bodies, their heads were contorted as if they had been in terrible agony on the brink of death.

    The notices beneath their heads detail the additional punishments they received before they died, before they were executed.

    <Constitution of the Autonomous Region of Baskerville, Article 00, Section 0. Law on the prohibition of illegal brothels... sentences: Facial tattooing>.

    *Executed in ordance with the abovew, tattooing the word "colour" on the entire face.

    <Article 00, paragraph 0 of the Constitution of the Autonomous Region of Baskerville. Law against Illegal Gambling... Sentence: Wrist amputation>

    *Enforced in ordance with the abovew, both wrists were cut off.

    *This sentence is retroactive to the number of times he vited thew, so after his wrists were cut, he continued to cut them for a certain length of time.

    This prisoner was sentenced to 72 wrist cuts.

    <Article 00, paragraph 0 of the Constitution of the Autonomous Region of Baskerville. Law on the prohibition of illegal private finance... sentences: Eyeball removal>.

    *Executed without prejudice, taking into ount the pleas of the victims of these prisoners.

    <Article 00, paragraph 0 of the Constitution of the Autonomous Region of Baskerville. Law against Illegal Trafficking in Persons... Sentence: Death>

    *Executed ording tow.

    <Constitution of the Autonomous Region of Baskerville, Article 00, paragraph 0. Law against illegal lobbying... Sentence: Exile from the territory>

    *Banishment outside the city walls, except for the head, as they are already exiles.

    .

    .

    The citizens could only gape.

    Thew itself was always there, so there is no need to think of it as excessive or harsh.

    The problem is that the prisoners who were subjected to thew were not ordinary prisoners.

    It''s not just a power game.

    This is a war of attrition that willst until one of them is gone.

    There was no one who didn''t expect a bloodbath.

    * * *

    Not long before the sentence was carried out.

    Vikir stood before the grate in the dungeon.

    Inside the dungeon, he could see the seven Masters, bloodied and groaning, imprisoned.

    "...Now, you shanki, wu abujihate, it''s all over."

    "Get out of here, Ba, how can I!"

    "For the love of God, let them go!"

    And before him stood Baskerville, the Chihuahua, restless.

    "Oh, my lord, my lord. What did you do to beat them like this?"

    He sounded more than a little pleased with himself.

    Vikir, who had been standing beside him, expressionless, suddenly turned his head.

    "Do you think what I did to these men was excessive?"

    "What? Oh, yes, of course I do! A fashionista deserves a good beating, and if you turn people into meat patties like this, how are you going to pay for itter..."

    Vikir smiled wryly.

    "Don''t worry about it. I haven''t even started yet."

    "...?"

    Chihuahua asks, confused.

    Vikir didn''t answer, but thought about it.

    Township offices were originally meant to check and supervise local mdministration, edify local society, and coordinate rtions with the city hall.

    But over time, they had be more and more like a red herring, and now they had surpassed even the power of the malevolent Baskervilles.

    "Gamani no dew!"

    "Two, leave it!"

    "Huaangfei''s bastardised family name!"

    The way they growled, it was even more so.

    But Vikir, soaking up their hatred, seemed unperturbed.

    "I will execute them all at the end of the day."

    ...!

    At those words, the masters in the cage fell silent.

    Vikir spoke once more.

    "While I''m at it, I''ll exterminate them all, from the babes in the club to the demons in the streets."

    The fearsome words were unmistakably true.

    Everything would be done ording to his word, 100% of the time.

    A war on crime had been dered.

    The masters looked dumbfounded for a moment, but now they grabbed the grate and began to shake it.

    "Now,e on, good boy!"

    "Haberma! Haberma bazusae!"

    "Gazing all over the ce!"

    People who usually look at others like bugs crawl on the floor like bugs.

    At this moment, the Chihuahua was feelingplex emotions.

    He wondered if he would ever see anything like this in his life.

    On the other hand, he feared the retaliation of the local indigenous leaders.

    Their retaliation is both sleepy and deadly.

    From now on, no spawn woulde to any of Vikir''s businesses, and attendance at his events would be very low.

    The city would be at a disadvantage in trade with other cities, and tax revenues would dwindle.

    But Vikir was nonchnt.

    It was as if he had all his bases covered.

    "There''s nothing to worry about, sir."

    "...ha, but."

    "Their families won''t be able to protest."

    "Yes? Why?"

    Vikir answered the Chihuahua''s question with uncharacteristic ease.

    "They''re involved with criminal groupsrge and small in Underdog City."

    "What? Zee, how does the Archon know that...."

    Vikir remained silent, not wanting to say he''d seen it before the regression.

    Then the Chihuahua looked concerned.

    "But it''s the proof that counts, isn''t it? And even if we do get proof, what kind of retaliation they''ll do next."

    "Don''t worry, there are plenty of them."

    Vikirughed.

    We''ll find the evidence. If we don''t find it, we make it.

    And everything that happened next was beyond Vikir''s concern.

    For Vikir was already thinking about moving on.

    ''I don''t know who''s going to rece me, but it''s going to be tough.

    I don''t expect Hugo to stay on as deputy for long.

    The world was about to change, and there was a good chance that he would be sent into actualbat in the near future.

    So it didn''t matter much to Vikir''s future if he threw a temper tantrum here and now.

    He would have to leave as soon as he was epted into the Academy.

    "So, while you''re here as a deputy, you might as well get some discipline.

    The answer was to prescribe medicines that were highly effective, even if they had some side effects.

    This would soon be a reputation that would propel Vikir''s career.

    It didn''t matter who came after him. Vikir hated members of his own Baskerville family the most.

    ... But a thousand miles a day.

    To do that, I need to make these seven sixth formers... nay masters in front of me spit out all the evidence of their coboration with the criminal element, and even their location.

    Vikir stepped up to the bars and said.

    "I will tell you what you are used of."

    "...."

    "Illegal kidnapping and imprisonment of women, sexual assault, intimidation, forced administration of illegal drugs, human trafficking, and forcing them into the sex trade, as well as bribes, extortion, ckmail, and murder of government officials...."

    The masters were outraged.

    "That''s the karma of the enemy! We''ll punish you when we have proof!"

    "We''ll punish him when we have the evidence? Are you saying there''s a crime but no evidence?"

    "That''s right, Gerson..."

    The masters look at each other, puzzled.

    Then a determined look crosses their faces.

    "If I have to die here, I will do so without harming the family name.

    If we blow it here, we can''t expect revenge.

    The n would turn on them, and even if they did, Vikir, given the nature of that psycho, he might go further and use the sit-in system on the n, tearing them down to the roots.

    ''Never, I''ll never tell!''

    The seven miscreants shut their mouths, ready to die for their family.

    ... but.

    "Oh, now you''re here."

    Vikir waved towards an entrance in the dungeon corridor.

    Apparently, he had been standing in front of the grate all this time, waiting for someone.

    "...?"

    The Seven Masters followed Vikir''s gaze with curiosity and anxiety.

    And there, walking towards them, was a gaunt old man carrying arge basket.

    "Your customisation isplete, my lord."

    The old man was a torturer who worked in the basement of City Hall.

    And then.

    Vikir overturned the basket and spilled its contents onto the shelf.

    Clink-clink.

    What emerged were hundreds of knives.

    Each one grotesque and hideous, bent, twisted, distorted, blunt, and sharp.

    The old torturer grinned, showing his yellowed teeth.

    "Wow, I''ve been torturing people for the past 30 years, and I''ve never seen anything like this before. How did youe up with all these creepy devices?"

    "I didn''t invent them. They weremonce where I was."

    "Was the ce you were before ... like hell?"

    "Well, it was close. You want to learn a lesson?"

    The instruments were gruesome, even for a torturer who had been doing it for thirty years.

    Vikir picked them up and walked back to the grate.

    "...gain!"

    Instinctively sensing something, the Seven Masters crawled away from the grate.

    But just as quickly.

    ...Thud!

    Vikir brazenly pushed open the door to the cage and stepped inside.

    Before he regressed, he remembered the faces of his oldrades.

    ''I remember, even demonic prisoners spat out military secrets before their torture techniques.

    The tortures of the Age of Annihtion made even the demons from hell cry and shit themselves.

    Vikir, who knows all about the future torture techniques that have improved by leaps and bounds in the short time he''s been dealing with demons, can''t help but find the sandals with their determined expressions cute.

    "You''re making faces like you''re never going to blow."

    Vikir says with a faint smile.

    "...Please don''t blow."

    This was genuine.

    He wanted to keep the memories and nostalgia alive for as long as possible.

 Chapter 35: Slave Auction (1)

    <h4>Chapter 35: ve Auction (1)</h4>

    Night. The outskirts of Underdog City.

    For some reason, luxury carriages have gathered in droves in a vacant lot at the back of the city where no one usuallyes.

    ck tents cover the huge clearing.

    Masked aristocrats and wealthy men stalked into the barracks.

    Today is the day of the ve auction. Naturally, it is a ve auction that is not officially reported to Baskerville.

    As such, the ves being sold here are undered goods.

    There were many people who could not be traded as ves in the first ce.

    Barbarians disced from their homes, nobles from distantnds, ormoners kidnapped out of nowhere.

    They were chained, hawked, or drugged to the point where their will to escape or report waspletely broken.

    Or they weremodities that would be.

    "Wee, wee, wee. Wee to tonight''s ''freak show'', yes, yes,e,e,e."

    A clown dressed as Pierrot wees the audience.

    Next, a middle-aged man walks in front of the clown.

    The middle-aged man, who has a long goatee and a somewhat scruffy appearance, keeps looking around to see what''s so unsettling.

    The clown checked the middle-aged man''s credentials.

    "Hmmm hmmm. Mr Montnc the Chihuahua. Ah, so you''re from the Montnc family, and your fabulous signature is a Montnc trademark that no one else can copy. ...?"

    The clown grabbed a middle-aged man named Chihuahua Montnc as he tried to let him pass.

    The Chihuahua is visibly flustered.

    The clown squinted at him and said.

    "I see the purpose of your visit on your certificate says you''re not here to buy ves, but to sell...?"

    "Ah. That''s right. I came to sell them."

    "What about for sale?"

    "Well, I''ve got him tied up in the back there for a while, and I''ve only got one anyway, and he''s a youngd, so he doesn''t take up much room."

    The clown smirked and ducked his head again.

    "I see," he said, "the Montncs always buy ves in bulk, and since you''re here to sell this time, I was wondering if you didn''t like the ones you boughtst time and wanted to get rid of them."

    The Chihuahua wiped the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief and shook his head.

    "No, sir. I''m always satisfied with the quality of the ves I buy here."

    "Isn''t that right? That''s right, we only sell carefully selected ves. We kidnap barbarian women,moners, and young noblemen from distant provinces who have lost their families and homes and have nowhere else to go, and we train them like rats and birds. They are obedient and never think of running away or rebelling, and we guarantee their quality."

    The clown turned to the Chihuahua and bowed politely once more.

    "I would like to extend a hearty wee to the Freak Show."

    * * *

    There was a strange tension in the auction room.

    Under a haze of hookah and tobo smoke, masked men and women sat in a circle around centre stage.

    Here were all the movers and shakers of the underdog underground economy.

    Ady in a butterfly mask salivates at the sight of a naked barbarian male ve on stage, while a gentleman in a bat mask salivates at the sight of a mercenary male ve on stage.

    There was no discernible public for the things that came up on stage at the auction house.

    There were objects �C old urns, famous works of art, sharp swords �C and there were rare animals and horses, and there were people branded as ves.

    But for the wealthy people who gathered here, the distinction was a good one.

    They''re used to seeing objects, animals, and people as the same thing.

    The masked dignitaries, their mouths covered by fans, were chatting amongst themselves.

    "I hear it''s all the rage in the Imperial capital these days to capture and disy grotesque-looking ves?"

    "I don''t pay much attention to fashions like that, I just think a ve should be pretty and handsome, that''s all."

    "I don''t know, ves are supposed to be good at work or good at fighting, aren''t they?"

    "Hahaha, I''m drawn to the tragic past that ves have, which is why I prefer them toe from fallen nobility or kidnapped nobility."

    "Well, whatever. I hope there are plenty of ves avable today."

    Most of the attention was on the ves.

    The emcee, dressed as a clown, stepped onto the stage and shouted at the top of his lungs.

    "Yes! This sword and shield, surely a relic of an ancient civilisation, has gone for 30 million gold! Any more? All hail the snake-masked man over there who will take home this lucky piece of armour! Now, on to the next item for sale! Everyone, look at this beautiful jewelled crown! It must have been worn by a king of a defunct kingdom somewhere in the history books...."

    Then.

    The eyes of the crowd, which had been focused on the ves, suddenly snapped to attention.

    It wasn''t a human being, but it was enough to focus all the attention in the room for a moment.

    A ck buffalo covered in lean muscle.

    It has huge horns, a massive body, and three ring eyes.

    <Infernal Buffalo ''Murcigo''

    Danger Rating: A

    Size: 3 metres

    Found in: Red and ck Mountains, Ridge 2

    -A type of cattle that inhabits the Oil Realm in the depths of Hell.

    It is said to have neen hearts and will not stop charging until they are all stopped.

    It was a gigantic beast that inhabited the Enemy and ck Mountains.

    But the reason why no one runs away when this monster appears on stage is simple.

    This Murcigo was dead.

    The emcee shouted.

    "Now, this sale is a stolen kill from the knights of the Baskervilles, a precious, Danger Rank A beast, with its hide, meat, bones, entrails, and everything else to spare!"

    There were neen wounds on the Hell Buffalo''s body.

    Apparently, it had only died after its heart was destroyed.

    The price of this carcass immediately began to skyrocket.

    "One hundred million gold!"

    "120 million!"

    "140 million!"

    "190 million!"

    "200 million!"

    "250 million!"

    The entire auction house erupts in excitement, even though the human ves are not.

    Having sold the carcass of a hell buffalo for a good price, the emcee took the opportunity to lead the auction in earnest.

    "Now it''s time for the auction for humans and their ilk!"

    With that, humans of all kinds began to walk onto the stage.

    A barbarian man with a dead look in his eyes as if he had given up on everything, a kidnapped noblewoman crying and begging to be sent home, a terrifiedmoner boy who still had no idea where he was, and a fallen noblewoman screaming that she would rather be killed.

    "One hundred million!"

    "Two hundred million!"

    "Two hundred and fifty thousand!"

    "Take it and seven thousand more!"

    "I got that bitch, no one can touch her!"

    "You''re being ridiculous. Get more money."

    The more they cry and scream and despair, the more the madness of the humans surrounding the stage intensifies.

    Just then.

    The emcee, buoyed by the brisk sales, suddenly looks puzzled.

    "...? Huh? Huh? You put this one up for sale, too? Huh? G, really? Oh, okay, I''ll see if I can sell it."

    He stutters, as if he''s having troublemunicating with the men behind the scenes.

    Heposes himself and continues.

    "Now, this next one is a little different, a little more appealing, and still has plenty of room for improvement!"

    In other words, even the ve traders aren''t quite in control yet.

    After the ve was painstakingly wrapped, the emcee dragged it to the centre of the stage.

    Unlike before, this time the ve was locked in a sturdy metal cage.

    "Kaaaah!"

    A series of guttural screams erupted.

    Inside the cage, a barbarian girl with a stern face was rampaging madly.

    She must have been about 17 years old.

    She had ck hair mixed with silver, triangr pointed ears, and a face that was a dark colour, but it looked like it had been smeared with ash and was normally a light brown.

    He wore a choker with thorns around his neck, and the animal skins he wore as clothing were little more than rags.

    Peeking through the rags, its body was toned and lean, but its face was unrecognisable through the ash, and it was snarling and snapping so fiercely that no one bothered to raise a bid.

    "!??? ?? ????. ???? ????. ??? ????? ????"

    Anguage I don''t understand at all.

    Moreover, the stench of animal feces that had been wafting across the stage since earlier, and the body odour that seemed to have not been washed in decades, caused the noblewomen to turn away with frowns on their faces.

    "...Ah, who buys this?"

    It''s enough to make even a clown talking to himself.

    Still, he had to sell, so he did his best to make a point.

    "Come on,e on, ve traders say they''ve picked this one up from the depths of the jungle! Come on,e on, don''t you think a ve this fierce could use some taming? Use him as a night watchman or a diator! This is your chance to prove your ve taming skills! I''ll start the bidding at 5 million! Let''s go!"

    ....

    But no one raises their hand.

    Usually there''s someone who calls out the lowest bid, for the sake of the moderator''s dignity and the atmosphere of the auction house, but... this time there wasn''t even that.

    "Eight, then let''s lower the minimum bid a bit, 3 million, anyone got 3 million?"

    ....

    "Then you don''t have it either! Two million! I''ll take it at two million! I''ll say it again, you don''t have it either!"

    ....

    "Okay, okay, okay, one million! I''ll take one million with my eyes closed! Take him and boil him for human consumption! I''ll sell him for nothing more than meat!"

    ....

    But in the end, no one raised their hand.

    The moderator grunted and waved his hand.

    "Forget it. This isn''t selling. I told you, only put up guaranteed items. Get them backstage, and use a windbag next time, I want."

    Soon the vers were on stage, pulling down the cage that held the barbarian girl.

    The girl even managed to bite off the finger of the trader holding the cage, cutting it off.

    The atmosphere in the auction hall became chaotic.

    The organisers had to control it somehow.

    So what did they do?

    The emcee knew it was time to bring out the big guns.

    "Attention,dies and gentlemen, jumo~ok, keep your eyes peeled, because I have what I consider to be the best lot of the day right now!"

    And then. A man stepped onto the stage.

    A boy with handcuffs on his wrists and heavy chains dangling from them.

    He looked to be about 15 years old.

    Despite the weight of the restraints, the boy''s gait is effortless.

    There was a faint murmur of admiration from the audience at his confident and calm demeanour.

    As he stands at the centre of the stage, the torchlight from above illuminates his face.

    The boy''s appearance was revealed in a glow of light.

    And the audience''s jaws dropped in unison.

    "...Wow."

    The expressions of all the noblewomen and some of the middle-aged men gathered here had be dazed.

 Chapter 36: Slave Auction (2)

    <h4>Chapter 36: ve Auction (2)</h4>

    The appearance of the ve boy on stage silenced the room for a moment.

    Cheeks that hadn''t yet shed their milk, but a chiseled jawline nheless.

    A prominent nose, full, crimson lips, straight dark eyebrows and longshes.

    And those precious ck hairs and red eyes.

    Vara''s whole body was tanned to a healthy brown color, but there were white underwear marks here and there, suggesting that her skin was originally wless and white.

    The boy''s good looks shone through, even with the basic makeup applied to the ves on stage.

    Vikir. Vikir van Baskerville.

    He was on the stage.

    The emcee said.

    "Now, what do you think, this is thest item up for auction, and with the quality of the goods, we can expect a great bidding war!"

    s, there is still silence downstage.

    Even the barbarian girl in the cage, who had been rampaging on the far side of the stage after winning the auction, had be mesmerized and quiet since Bikir''s appearance.

    Then.

    Someone raised a bidding sign.

    "Six hundred million!"

    Thedy in the butterfly mask gasps.

    "Six hundred million, no, sixty-five million!"

    Then the middle-aged man on the other side of the table jumps to his feet, as if he can''t lose.

    "Eight hundred million!"

    "What the hell! Aren''t you a man!?"

    "What''s a man got to do with 800 million!"

    "That''s not it! A man would take her and use her for what!!!"

    "He''s going to use her as a diator, for crying out loud!"

    "What the hell, do you think she can even hold a sword properly!"

    "Come on, you two. If you want to fight, go home and fight, and I''ll call it a night."

    "I call a billion!"

    "One and a half billion!"

    "1.3 billion!"

    "1.5 billion!"

    A bloody price war has begun. Numerical prices now began to jump by the billion.

    Just as the moderator was getting ecstatic, calcting the fees.

    "Six billion."

    The amount dropped like a bomb.

    Out of the corner of everyone''s eye, I see a fat man munching on his food.

    "..., the author."

    "Baron Gambino of the Granary, a rare find."

    "Crazy, that''s one big barrel."

    "I''ve heard he''s been raking in the doughtely, absorbing underground funds."

    The people around you turn their heads with bitter expressions.

    Some of the noblewomen, gritting their teeth, tried to scrape together enough money to make a stand, but it was a long shot against Baron Gambino, who was now making a name for himself as the newest rebel in the underworld.

    Then.

    "... Baron. Wouldn''t that be too much to spend?"

    The secretary at Baron Gambino''s side spoke up.

    Dressed in a greenish-blond short skirt and one-eyed sses, she looked quite cold and domineering.

    Baron Gambino frowned slightly at the secretary''s point, then coughed.

    "Well, a ve that off-white can fetch a much higher price in the Imperial Capital. It''s worth it to buy them and sell themter."

    "Even though he''s an off-white boy, six billion seems a bit excessive. Besides, isn''t it the story of the baron who bought him and then left him to fend for himself that makes reselling him questionable?"

    "Hmmm. Hmmm!"

    Baron Gambino nced up, seemingly conscious of the stares around him, and then burst out.

    "Shut up, you wench, I gave you something you had no right to have, and now you have the audacity to stand on your master''s head!"

    "...."

    "I like her, I bought her with my own money...!"

    Baron Gambino shouted, and the secretary sighed and shook her head.

    Then.

    Baron Gambino, who had paid a hefty sum for the item, smirked and brought Vikir to him.

    He raised his thick hand and began to cupping Bikir''s ass.

    "...."

    Bikir stared in disbelief, alternating between Baron Gambino and the hand cupping his ass.

    Baron Gambino chuckled in satisfaction at the look on Vikir''s face, a look that said he''d never seen anything like this before.

    "Why, it''s new to you. Get used to it, for it will happen often from now on."

    "...."

    "Hehehe- don''t worry. To be fair, I''ll let you touch my ass too,ter tonight...."

    Baron Gambino said, scanning Bikir''s body with a lecherous expression.

    The moment.

    Bikir raised his hands.

    Not realizing he was asking for his handcuffs to be removed, Baron Gambino smirked and reached for the keys.

    ...Snap, snap, snap!

    The handcuffs in front of you are ripped off in the blink of an eye.

    Steel cuffs tearing like paper. And the chains.

    With the force of his grip, Vikir shatters the restraints on his wrists.

    Then, at a loss for words, he held out his palms to the dazed Baron Gambino.

    "On your ass."

    There was no time to protest, no time to say anything.

    Vikir rolled over the Gambino baron''s fat body with such ease that he soon had his hands on his fleshy ass.

    Tsk, tsk, tsk!

    There was a terrifying sound, and Baron Gambino began to squeal like a pig.

    "Off!"

    A gurgling fountain of blood drenched the surroundings.

    A chorus of screams erupts from the bystanders as they see a man being torn alive.

    Soon, the mercenaries who had been acting as guards begin to rush over.

    But.

    Thud, thud, thud!

    The necks and torsos of the lunging guards separated at once and rolled separately across the floor.

    Before he knew it, Vikir had drawn a long, sharp de that protruded from his wrist.

    Whirring, whirring, whirring.

    Beelzebub the Magic Sword began to weep as it drew blood.

    "Strike, strike! Kill him!"

    The nobles called for their personal escorts.

    Swords drawn, mercenaries and knights charged, their auras rising.

    ...Tsutsutsutsuts

    Vikir unleashed his aura as well.

    The swordsmanship that followed was Baskerville''s Fifth Form.

    Five of the lurking ambushers flew out at once, biting into the nape of their foes'' necks.

    Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud.

    A shower of blood.

    Headless torsos crumble to their knees.

    Behind them, the knifemen, who had barely escaped death, could only stare in horror.

    An aura as red and sticky as blood. Gradient!

    The ultimate weapon representing a nation''s national power, a killing machine for the sole purpose of killing.

    For every step Vikir took, he made sure to cut the throat of another.

    Every step he takes, he kills.

    Bikir had only traveled a short distance, only a few dozen paces, but already a shower of blood was falling around him.

    There was only one thought on everyone''s minds.

    "We don''t stand a chance against the Graduates!

    As soon as the swordsmen saw Bikir''s aura dripping like liquid, they gave up the fight and began to withdraw.

    But.

    "You fools, there''s no business in Daguri, even if you''re a grader!"

    "If you run away now, you''re all going to very!"

    "Yay, so you''re not going to make any money!"

    "Think of your families!"

    Here and there, the shouts of nobles and signers turned a few swordsmen on their heels.

    By now, the chaos in the auction house had subsided somewhat.

    Heavily armed mercenaries, now numbering in the hundreds, surrounded Vikir.

    "What the hell is that kid?"

    "How is he a grader at his age?"

    "Are you human! What are you!"

    Everyone is confused, but the enemy is clear.

    Countless swords, spears, arrows, and magic surrounded Vikir inyers.

    No matter how strong the Gradient was, there was no way it could survive this onught.

    Even.

    "You bastard, drop your sword and surrender this instant, or none of your men will live!"

    The clown on the stage was threatening Bikir with a hostage.

    The clown was holding a knife and about to stab him in the neck.

    The Chihuahua, with its long goatee, was shaking and looking at Bikir.

    "...."

    Bikir paused and stood.

    As he does, the mercenaries around him draw their swords and slowly close in on him.

    Just then.

    "Your Excellency, I''m fine, please take care of yourself!"

    The Chihuahua eximed with a determined look.

    Soon, he grabbed the clown''s arm and began pulling him toward him.

    The clown was more surprised by the Chihuahua''s behavior than by the fact that he was trying to kill himself by stabbing himself in the neck with someone else''s knife.

    "You''re crazy, what are you doing!"

    "Let go! There is nopromise with injustice in my dictionary! Besides, I''d rather die than get in the way of my superiors!"

    "What kind of a line is that for a face like yours! Get off me!"

    The clown and the Chihuahua began to tussle, killing each other.

    Bikir smiled wryly at the sight.

    And then.

    ...Bam!

    With a drop of aura that pierced the clown''s brow, Vikir picked up the falling Chihuahua and dropped all the way down to the stage.

    All around him, the air is alive with life.

    Countless mercenaries and knights of the local Sedoga armed with swords, spears, arrows, and magic red at Vikir and the Chihuahua.

    "Zee, my lord. No matter how good a fighter you are, this number of people is a bit... overwhelming, especially with all the baggage I''m carrying."

    Chihuahua''s concern was justified.

    But Bikir remained nonchnt.

    "Don''t worry. When we leave the Baskervilles'' mansion."

    He tore a small slit in the flesh of his thigh and pulled out what he had hidden within.

    It was a small whistle shaped like a red tooth.

    "I have a hidden card from the Lord, ...."

    And then.

    Vikir brought the blood-red whistle to his mouth and blew.

    Beep-.

    A tearing sound echoed high in the air.

    Those gathered around were tense, unsure of what Vikir was doing, their eyes fixed on the center of the encirclement.

    But.

    The real action began on the ceiling of the barracks, where no one was looking.

    ...Tsk tsk!

    Shadows were tearing through the curtain that had been stretched out like the night sky and entering through the cracks.

    Countless ck blood winds fell from the sky.

    And then.

    Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding!

    Wherever they fell, there was always a shower of blood, and people''s heads were torn off.

    "Aaahhh! What are these!"

    "There must be over a hundred of them!"

    "And they''re powered by graders!"

    All one hundred of them are Graduators. Killing machines, their des coated in a blood-red aura.

    They annihted everyone in front of them in an instant, then went behind Bikir and lined up politely.

    Only then did those who were spared by their position in the rear realize the nature of Vikir''s group of one hundred Graders.

    "Seriously, they can''t be..."

    "No? No. Please, please!"

    "Ah, yes, they''re the only ones using that symbol!"

    It was the red, tooth-like badge on his chest patch.

    A ''knightage Pit Bull'' of the Baskerville family.

    It was the rise of the most ferocious knighthood in not only House Baskerville, but the entire Empire.

    To these ck-cloaked, silent fighting dogs, Vikir gave a brief order.

 Chapter 37: Slave Auction (3)

    <h4>Chapter 37: ve Auction (3)</h4>

    "The way to take down an underground economy is really quite simple, you just have to get to the heart of the matter between the dots.

    Vikir repeated the words he''d spoken to the Chihuahua.

    The vast underground economy of an underdog city, and the big yers who control it.

    Vikir already knew the ce, thanks to his pre-regression knowledge.

    But it would be impossible for a single man to take down such arge operation.

    So Vikir had nned for this.

    "I was wondering if I could borrow ....

    A conversation with Hugo before leaving Baskerville.

    I''m pretty sure that''s when Vikir said

    "I was wondering if I could borrow the Temrs.

    Hugo thought long and hard about it, and then granted permission.

    He gave her the right to use one knight for half a day, a piece of House Baskerville''s military power.

    "I trust you will do nothing foolish. My son.''

    The implications of giving up military power, however limited, were significant.

    He recognized Vikir as his son and would treat him ordingly.

    Thus, the Pitbull Knights, one of the pirs of Baskerville''s military might, came under Vikir''s control.

    For the next six hours, all one hundred of the Graduators, the iron-blooded knights who are known for leaving no survivors behind, will be Vikir''s subjects.

    And now, Vikir was using them to sweep away the corruption of Underdog City in one fell swoop.

    "Hugo was particrly sensitive to the military. It''s a good thing we got the pit bull back in one piece.

    Given Hugo''s tendency to be extremely wary of local officials having private soldiers, it was expected that he would not give up his knighthood easily.

    But Hugo''s trust in Vikir was surprisingly strong, and it made things easier.

    Vikir nced at the group of Pit Bull Knights lined up behind him.

    A Zagoro fighter must never show his teeth.

    A third-rate fighter believes in his own strength and looks down on his enemies.

    A second-ss fighting dog reacts too quickly to the enemy''s actions.

    A first-ss fighting dog has patience andposure, but not the life in his eyes.

    And finally, the pinnacle of the fighting dog is as calm as an inanimate object, not reacting at all, no matter how furious or threatening the enemy is.

    Woody Virtue

    It''s as if they were carved out of a tree.

    In that sense, the Pit Bull Knights are a very disciplined group of fighters.

    They now stood behind Vikir like chunks of wood, waiting for orders.

    Vikir started the engine.

    "Bite them all to death."

    A hundred pit bulls bared their teeth.

    Vikir shouted at the running dogs.

    "Don''t kill the ones that stay down. But if they move, kill them without mercy."

    It was a warning.

    Vikir''s words were loud enough for his enemies to hear.

    Those who lost the will to fight quickly dropped their weapons, dropped to the ground, and raised their hands and feet upward.

    The majority, however, could not.

    "Aaaaah!"

    "Aaaah help me!"

    As she screamed and writhed, her head was mercilessly sliced off.

    I could see her fat head rolling around under her fur coat, which was stained red.

    The fleeing middle-aged man is disemboweled on the spot.

    Men, women, and children alike were dying as they fled or screamed.

    ...That didn''t mean that those who stayed down were unharmed.

    "Ugh, let''s just get down. We''ll jump out when it''s a little quieter."

    Several peopley down on their stomachs on the floor and put their hands and feet up.

    It was a sign that they were waiting for handcuffs.

    But.

    "We don''t carry handcuffs."

    A Pitbull Temr smirked as he stepped in front of them.

    Just as they were about to ask what they were going to use to bind their hands and feet.

    ...Thud! ...Thud!

    The Pitbull Temr''s sword sliced through their limbs.

    Wrists and ankles snapped off.

    "Kaaaaaah!"

    "Aaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!"

    They crawled across the floor, showing signs of escape, and then quickly dropped like bugs.

    The Pitbull Knights, of course, arepletely unperturbed andunch themselves at the other moving prey.

    Meanwhile.

    Beside Vikir, a dark-haired, middle-aged man stands with a thick cigar in his mouth.

    He is an imposing man with an inverted triangle of muscle, a square jaw, sunken cheeks, sunsses shading his eyes, and scars all over his face.

    Count Les Baskervilles, a Boston Terrier, asks Vikir.

    "Nephew, are you satisfied?"

    "Yes uncle."

    "Hmph, boy. If there''s anything else I can do for you, just say the word."

    He was quite fond of his nephew, Vikir, for no particr reason, just because he liked the way the rice leaves fluttered.

    The Boston Terrier figured it couldn''t hurt to have a nephew who was also the favorite of his master, Hugo.

    Vikir didn''t feel bad for the Boston Terrier, who was not interested in power, honor, or political battles, but purely in blood and fight.

    Just then, the Chihuahua beside him spoke up in a shaky voice.

    "Your Excellency. But would you mind if I cut off their wrists and ankles like that, even though they''re nobles?"

    "What the hell, they''re about to be executed anyway, and the handcuffs aren''t worth the trouble, just make sure they can''t get away."

    Hearing Vikir''s answer, the Boston Terrier Countughed with even more satisfaction.

    "Hmph, nephew, you must join our Pit Bull Knights someday. This uncle will raise you properly."

    Vikir could only reply with a faint smile.

    A minute or soter, the Pit Bull Knights stormed in and the situation was over.

    It was literally over.

    All the big bads in Underdog City were either dead or captured.

    Of course, there were some who were casually absent, but that could easily be traced back to their captors'' ledgers and contact records.

    "This... is the greatest thing since sliced bread! It''s so perfect!"

    The Chihuahua shivered with excitement as he watched the criminals being led away in the distance.

    The war on crime was suddenly dered, and it was over surprisingly quickly.

    Now we''ll have to clean up the mess, but that will be a piece of cake.

    Even the indigenous families who lost their sons will not be able to say anything about it.

    The future of Underdog City was clear, transparent, and bright.

    "Congrattions, no one will dare to speak against Vikir now, will they...?"

    The Chihuahua jumped for joy.

    But Vikir, the one who should have heard it, was long gone.

    * * *

    "I think it was around ....

    Vikir had already returned to the back of the auction house.

    The ughter was still going on in front of the stage across the way.

    By this time, Vikir had slipped through the back unnoticed and made it to the warehouse where the auction items were being stored.

    The warehouse was piled high with gold and silver treasures.

    All paid for in cash by nobles visiting the city.

    "...The tax revenue must be good."

    All of this would be added to the city''s treasury, and the Baskervilles'' coffers would be even stronger.

    I didn''t like the idea of Hugo being happy, but it didn''t matter now, so I let it go.

    Vikir searched the warehouse for a while.

    Piles of notes and ledgers.

    He decided to keep all of them, as they would be valuable evidence in his future raids.

    But there was something else he was really after.

    Vikir grabbed a white cloth draped over a corner of the warehouse and pulled it open.

    And there it was.

    "...?"

    What Vikir saw was not what he was looking for, but somethingpletely different.

    A cage, and a barbarian girl imprisoned in it.

    The same girl who had been rampaging ferociously just moments before, cowering in the corner of the cage.

    "...grunt, grunt."

    A barbarian girl making painful noises.

    Upon closer inspection, her entire body shows signs of abuse in addition to malnutrition. It looks like she was whipped outside the cage.

    "She must have been corporally punished after biting the traders'' fingers earlier.

    Vikir clicked his tongue for a moment.

    Then he reached into his belt and pulled out a potion reserved for the Temrs.

    He opened the door to the cell and sprinkled the potion over the girl''s body.

    Qi Yi Profit...

    With a loud crackling sound, the wounds healed and new flesh sprouted.

    The groaning girl opened her eyes to see Vikir inside the cage, and angrily hid in a corner.

    Vikir stared at the barbarian girl.

    A mixture of ck and silver hair. Pointed ears. Charcoal-ck makeup smeared across her face.

    The familiar teeth and w marks on his forearms and thighs.

    "Cerberus?

    A memoryes flooding back.

    During his practical exam at the age of eight, Vikir had crossed the safety boundary and entered the waters of the ck Mountain with an enemy and encountered Cerberus, a Danger ss A+ demon.

    He remembered that Cerberus'' nks were covered with arrowhead-shaped scars.

    "Hmm. Could it be that the barbarian tribe that hunted Cerberus back then was...?"

    It was a reasonable guess.

    Meanwhile, the barbarian girl, now that her wounds had healed somewhat, was crouched in the corner of the cage, ring at Vikir.

    Vikir spoke briefly.

    It means ''go.

    The barbarian girl''s eyes widened at the words.

    Vikir shrugged his shoulders once.

    ''I can speak basic barbarian.

    He had fought the enemy and the barbarians of the ck Mountains countless times before his return.

    The barbarian girl''s eyes widen in horror at Vikir''smand to flee.

    Only when Vikir leaves the vial with the remaining potion on the ground and walks out of the cage does the barbarian girl cower and follow him out of the cage.

    "...."

    She red at Vikir for a few seconds before ripping open the tent and fleeing.

    She took the vial of potion that Vikir had set on the ground.

    The barbarian girl said something at thest minute, but she spoke too fast for Vikir to understand.

    "Now, let''s find what you really want."

    Vikir turned and went back to his work.

    Gold and silver treasures, notes and ledgers, checkbooks, antiques, art....

    But there was something else Vikir wanted.

    "Here it is."

    With that, Vikir pulled aside the red cloth draped over the innermost corner of the auction room.

    Therey arge, horned beast of burden.

    <Murcigo, the Infernal Buffalo>.

    Danger Rating: A

    Size: 3 meters

    Found in: Red and ck Mountains, Ridge 2

    -A type of cattle that inhabits the Oil Realm in the depths of Hell.

    It is said to have neen hearts and will not stop charging until they all stop.

    Bing-bing-bing.

    Beelzebub on the wrist was whining that he was hungry.

    In the distance, the sound of the Pitbull Knights'' swords and the screams of their enemies were getting closer and closer.

    I had better finish my meal and get going.

 Chapter 38: Sponsored (1)

    <h4>Chapter 38: Sponsored (1)</h4>

    The club Burning Suspension has closed its doors.

    Not just closed, but burned to the ground.

    Vikir burned down the entire hotel building that housed Burning Suspension.

    ...Roar!

    The club''s Burning Suspension, an enormous pyre of firewood.

    The great den of devils, where the second and third generations of Sedoga gathered for the ultimate in luxury and pleasure, was burned to the ground in front of all the citizens.

    Despite the fact that it was night, the city was as bright as day from the light emitted by the burning suspension.

    A few cker youths milled about in front of the club, their eyes full of regret.

    "What''s the matter, pigs?"

    They fled with their tails between their legs as the pit bull knights lined up in front of the burning building.

    Bikir hadn''t just burned down the club.

    The VVIPs who came in and out of the ce, the seven children of the seven families who spent the most money and yed the most extravagantly, wereid out in front of the burning club.

    Only their heads remained.

    Their severed heads bore the marks of torture.

    Underneath, a long list of usations of misdeeds they hadmitted in their lifetimes.

    At dawn the next day, Bikir announced the executioner''s position.

    Without a spokesperson, he stepped out into the square.

    "Before thew, caste is meaningless. Everyone is subject to thew."

    The tone was nonchnt, but the impact was enormous.

    Public opinion of Bikir was either favorable or extremely favorable.

    The unfavorable were few and far between.

    Everyone in the city of Underdog, in groups of three or more, hailed Vikir as a great ruler.

    Of course, the native families who lost their pampered offspring would not stand idly by.

    The House of Montnc, the House of Pierre, the House of Louis Vuitton, the House of Channel, the House of Ferragamo, the House of Herm��s, and the House of Prada each sent a letter of protest to the Court.

    But Bikir was adamant.

    "Not only were they involved in all sorts of crimes, but they were directly involved in the most taboo of imperial crimes, the ''illegal ve trade''. There can be no other consequence but death."

    The imperial emperor treated the illegal ve trade as a felony of the highest quality.

    This was because most of the ves traded illegally were barbarians from outside the Empire.

    Of course, this is not because the Emperor is concerned about the human rights of barbarians outside the Empire.

    He is wary of the phenomenon of privateering, where another war is fought to capture them.

    In order for local nobles to engage in privateering, they would have to recruit private soldiers, which could be done by treasonous conspiracy.

    There was a risk that a ve hunt, conducted secretly and out of sight of the imperial court, could turn into a rebellion or coup.

    Indeed, the fact that severalrge-scale rebellions of a few years earlier had their roots in troops organized for ve hunting was evidence of this.

    So the emperor nominally said

    "It is inevitable that war will create ves, but it is not permissible to wage war to create ves.

    From then on, illegal ve trade was treated with the same weight as treason, a first-degree felony in the Empire.

    Bikir cut to the chase.

    "I have obtained all the notes issued by the seven executed prisoners, all the books they kept, all the cash they spent. These events are being duly investigated by the Baskervilles and will be reported to the Imperial Court."

    To summarize: "Yes, if you refute, you are a traitor.

    After this conversation, the seven families stopped protesting.

    Now was not the time to sulk with Bikir over their anger and grief at the loss of their son.

    He couldn''t afford to do that when his family was about to be disgraced.

    In the end, the heads of the seven haughty families came to the ruler''s office in person, an unprecedented urrence, kneeling and begging for forgiveness.

    They were forced to bow down to the man who killed their sons and beg for their family''s survival.

    This is the price they pay for mis-educating their children.

    They crouched, foreheads on the marble floor, but... Bikir was relentless.

    "I have already examined all the ck ledgers in the Burning Suspension. Those guilty will be summoned soon and their treatment will be determined ording to their crimes."

    The results, if written down, would fill countless pages.

    But here are the key findings.

    Paragraph 1. All property of the Montnc, Pierre, Louis Vuitton, Channel, Ferragamo, Hermes, and Prada families shall be confiscated and ced in the treasury.

    *Only those properties that have been earned through illegal activities should be confiscated, but at this point it is virtually impossible to distinguish between legal and illegal properties, so they are confiscated in full.

    Section 2. The House of Montnc, the House of Pierre, the House of Louis Vuitton, the House of Channel, the House of Ferragamo, the House of Hermes, and the House of Prada shall be destroyed for treason.

    The reference point is the seven people executed on January 0.

    Section 3. The members of the House of Montnc, the House of Pierre, the House of Louis Vuitton, the House of Channel, the House of Ferragamo, the House of Hermes, and the House of Prada who are involved in this case shall be punished by double the sentence under the special provisions of the Noblesse Oblige.

    Paragraphs 1 and 2 do not ovep.

    It can also be summarized in three short lines.

    -You.

    -That''s it.

    -Fucked.

    The blood hasn''t dried on the floor of the execution chamber in a while, thanks to the arrival of a new deputy magistrate.

    The foul blood of the vermin that had been feeding on the city.

    "The flower beds will be richer for it."

    Vikir muttered to himself as he looked at the flowerbeds at the foot of the death chamber and the flowers that bloomed there.

    The white lilies that the Chihuahua had so carefully tended had turned into red lilies.

    ...Whatever.

    The ruling circles in the provincial capitol, who had been dictating policy decisions at every turn, dropped their heads in silence, and the provincial tribesmen, who had been farting around, now shuddered at the mere shadow of a government official.

    The seven indigenous families who might have been able to y a power game with Bikir were uprooted and effectively exterminated.

    Moreover, rumors that Vikir held some of the Baskervilles'' military authority had gained traction in other cities.

    Who in the world wouldn''t hold their breath in the presence of a Baskerville militarymander?

    There were no longer any underdog cities that stood in Vikir''s way.

    On the contrary, a new group of people was emerging to give him wings.

    "Indeed, the viciousness of the Seven Native Houses has crossed the line."

    "If you''re going to use the new Deputy of cruelty at the hands of the old, you might as well use me first."

    "New flesh does note from begging and pleading. Rotten flesh must be cut out. You deserved it."

    One after another, clean signers who had been penalized for their honesty, or nobles who had been dismissed for being too clean, or who had been forced to live in foster homes, dered their support for Bikir.

    They had no power or wealth, but they were honored and trusted by themon people, known as "intellectuals," "teachers," and "mentors.

    Their support for Bikir''s bold reforms grew as more and more Confucian intellectuals followed suit.

    As a watershed moment, Bikir reinterpreted all past precedents and freed all wrongfully convicted prisoners and prisoners of conscience.

    As a result of this process, the massive manpower required to uncover the truth of the past led to a massive hiring spree of additional government employees and contractors, which significantly reduced the unemployment rate in the underdog city.

    The shortfall in the payroll budget was covered by the tax revenues generated by the crackdown on the illegal underground economy.

    This has prompted the citizens of Underdog City to organize daily mass protests in front of the city hall.

    <Deputy Mayor Bikir to stay in office permanently!

    <We strongly urge! Deputy Vikir to stay in the city of Underdog forever!

    <I love you, Bikir>.

    It was a protest for the love of it.

    * * *

    Mr. Chihuahua''s secretary is single-minded.

    The distrust and disdain that had greeted Bikir''s arrival had been washed away.

    "Are you at work, sir? Here''s your coffee."

    "If you''re the head of the office, mind your own business. You don''t need to bring me coffee."

    "This is a personal thank you. Didn''t you save me from being stabbed by a clown the other day?"

    "Then a cup of coffee is too salty for a lifesaver."

    "It''s not too salty, it''s two primes of sugar and ten thousand of water."

    The two have gotten to know each other well enough that they now joke around like this.

    Bikir is currently teaching the Chihuahua how to write.

    More precisely, how to mimic different typefaces.

    With that handwriting, Bikir is creating newws and updating old ones.

    Vikir was making newws and updating old ones: developing the ruby mines with Morg, stabilizing the price of agricultural products, rewarding those who did good work for the fief, giving ves immunity from taxes when they did good work, developing backward areas equally, institutionally guaranteeing the benefits of followingws with penalties for breaking them, taxing merchants outside the fief, raising taxes on the wealthy, lowering taxes on the poor, dispelling superstitions, nationalizingnd, and more....

    Of thews that would be enacted in the future, Bikir cherry-picked the ones that had worked well and refined them to fit the current social climate.

    Naturally, the legitors were impressed with Bikir''s knowledge of thew, and scratched their heads even more.

    The city of Underdog was going from strength to strength.

    "...are you really 15 years old?"

    Bikir chewed on the Chihuahua''s question in awe.

    With that, Bikir began the most important task of the day.

    "Secretary."

    "Yes."

    The Chihuahua trotted over and stood beside him.

    Bikir continued in his nonchnt tone.

    "Is there any Tio left in the dungeon right now?"

 Chapter 39: Sponsored (2)

    <h4>Chapter 39: Sponsored (2)</h4>

    One ambitious moonless night.

    Vikir visited the dungeons beneath the city hall.

    The nearly empty cell was filled with the stench of something decaying.

    Prisons are inherently creepy, but it''s even creepier to see them so dark and empty.

    The guards had all left work early. Unusually, all of them without a single call.

    The prisoners have all been executed, pardoned, or transferred, and the area is nowpletely empty.

    Vikir made his way to one of the deepest cells.

    The darkest and most fetid.

    Solitary.

    The most secluded of the dungeons, with the only securely locked door.

    And in this dungeon was the only prisoner left.

    He was a secretary to Baron Gambino, a major yer in the underground economy.

    A woman with greenish-blond hair cut short, dressed in a prisoner''s uniform and wearing heavy handcuffs, she squatted in the corner of the cell.

    Vikir pulled up a chair and sat down in front of the bars.

    Druk-.

    The sound of the iron chair legs scraping against the stone floor echoed loudly in the empty prison.

    "Your name is... Sen Rose Sindhiwendi. Is that right?"

    Vikir asked, but she didn''t answer.

    Instead, she stared down at the floor with vacant eyes.

    "Why did you keep me alive?"

    Xindiwendi''s question was hollow.

    The freak show. And the Pit Bull Knights.

    That night, when everything that moved was dying, Cindy Wendy gritted her teeth and fled.

    She could never die like this.

    Even if she didn''t die, her wrists and ankles would be cut off.

    She had a job to do, and she could never die in a ce like this and be a wastrel because of it.

    Who among the dying was not, or at least Xindiwendi thought she was, far more desperate and needy than the others.

    But the teeth of the fighting dog before her were cold.

    One of the Pit Bull Temrs stepped in front of her, and it was a death sentence.

    She gritted her teeth as the jagged de sank into her throat.

    But.

    ...Earth!

    The sound the knife made as it plunged into his throat was a bit unexpected.

    That''s because the Pitbull Temr''s de didn''t manage to pierce her throat.

    Vikir. The new deputy magistrate.

    He holds up a bundle of chains to block the Pit Bull Temr''s de.

    The Pitbull Temr looked very surprised that Vikir had managed to block his de, but his next words were brief.

    "This woman is an exception. Capture her alive without hurting a single finger.''

    This is how Xin Diwendi has been imprisoned in the dungeon ever since.

    Vikir stared at her in silence for a while.

    Finally, he asked.

    "If you answer my questions truthfully, I will release you from here."

    ...!

    That made Xin Diwendi''s ears perk up.

    But soon, Xin Diwendi shook her head and muttered to herself.

    "I''ve already lost the will to escape from the time I was imprisoned here, and I have no reason to do so now."

    Like it or not, Vikir''s questions had already begun.

    "Are you the reason Baron Gambino, who was nothing more than an insignificant sodomite, has been able to increase his power so dramatically in recent years?"

    "...."

    "I''ve researched you, and you have a knack for making money, and if that talent had blossomed in a ce other than the underworld, you would have made a fine merchant or financier."

    Xin Diwendiughed bloodily.

    It was a mockingugh that seemed to say, "What good is all that now?

    Vikir looked into her eyes and held them still.

    Then he spoke in a pleasant voice.

    "I assure you."

    "...?"

    "Answer my question and I''ll let you out of here, but-"

    Vikir trailed off and tilted his head toward the bars, locking eyes with Xindiwendi.

    Searing red light pierced her green retinas.

    "If you do not answer, you will regret this day."

    There was a strange, unknown power in the voice that made the listener feel another kind of intimidation besides fear.

    Xin Diwendi opened her mouth to speak, not even knowing what she was feeling.

    "If it''s something I can answer, I''ll answer it."

    "Good."

    Vikir asked, bluntly.

    "How does it look to you?"

    "What do you mean?"

    "Do you think I''m doingw enforcement wrong?"

    Xin Diwendi replied in a nonchnt tone.

    "Who cares about the opinion of a lowly criminal bitch like me?"

    "I''m asking an insignificant criminal bitch like you."

    "Then I''m going to go out on a limb and say it: I think you''re doing it wrong."

    At that, Vikir nodded.

    "Why?"

    "Virtue is the key virtue of a ruler in all theories of monarchy. A strong rule ofw may work to some extent in the beginning, but in the long run, well..."

    "Virtue, what is it?"

    "It''s not getting in a cart when you''re tired, not putting a cover on a cart when you''re hot, and not having armed soldiers in procession. It is his virtue that when a ruler dies, all the citizens shed tears, even the children refrain from singing, and even the triggers do not hum."

    "Is it a great blemish that I am not virtuous?"

    "If it is a great blemish, it is a great blemish, for you will not live long because of it. You may have established your majesty by beating up on cheap scoundrels with the Thrash Furun Law, but in the long run, you will kill and injure manymoners, which will build up resentment and anger."

    "Do you think I should fear the resentment and anger of themon people?"

    "Themoners won''t like it, but neither will the Baskervilles, and although it''s an underdog city, the citizens will be more afraid of you, the deputy, than they are of the Baskervilles."

    "Hmm. That''s true."

    "The same will be true when your superior arrives, or when your sessor does, and the reason you changed thew is to assert your authority and hasten your aplishments, which will have many native factions gnashing their teeth. There are plenty of underworlders in other cities, too, and I don''t think you''ll have long to live, considering their sentiments."

    "So what do you think I should do?"

    "You are as precarious as dew right now. If you wish to live to see another day, you must resign as Deputy Magistrate, return all your powers to House Baskerville, return the balls here to the Gazoo and the Imperial House, and go to a ce befitting your age, such as Yazi in the Red and ck Mountains, or an academy in the center of the empire, and look forward to the future."

    "And?"

    "Keep yourself as unnoticed as possible, conceal your strength and cultivate your learning, and suggest to your superiors that you seek out and promote undiscovered talent, honor the elderly, care for orphans, praise the unmerited, and honor the virtuous."

    "And what will I gain by doing so?"

    "Your mind will be at ease, for one thing, and by that time the patriarch of House Baskerville will have taken all the me you deserve; and even if he takes away your immediate credit, you are only fifteen years old anyway. Isn''t that old enough to have a reputation that has spread to the ecliptic, even if it''s only a sham?"

    At Xin Di Wendi''s long-winded advice, Vikir smiled a rare smile.

    Her advice was very much in line with Vikir''s own ns for the future.

    "Good."

    Vikir nodded.

    At the same time.

    ...ng!

    The iron gate swung open.

    Vikir ripped the padlock off with the force of his grip, then removed all of Xindiwendi''s restraints.

    "As promised, you are now free."

    "...."

    Xin Di Wendi raised her head and stared at the iron gate in front of her.

    Then she turned to look at Vikir.

    "Are you really releasing me?"

    "I am. I keep my word."

    "You''ll regret it, won''t you?"

    A hint of life returned to Xin Diwendi''s eyes.

    Seeing it, Vikir smiled wryly.

    "I hope so."

    "...?"

    Sindhiwendi tilted her head.

    Finally, Vikir spoke up.

    "You said something nice to me, so I''ll say something nice to you."

    Sindhiwendi turns to leave the cell, but stops short.

    With her back to him, Vikir spoke.

    "There were seven famous native families in Underdog City. The Montncs, the Pierres, the Louisvilles, the Channels, the Ferragamos, the Herm��ses, and the Pradas."

    "...."

    "But a few years ago, their number was eight, not seven."

    At that, Vikir didn''t miss the slight shiver that ran down Xin Diwendi''s spine.

    "Originally, there was an eighth family called the Messinadna family, the wealthiest of the merchant families."

    "...."

    "But they were destroyed overnight, all of their members tragically killed. Do you know why?"

    "...."

    "They had stolen the Baskervilles'' sword book, and their eight-year-old son had one day imed to have learned to be a good swordsman."

    "...."

    "The patriarch of the Messinadnaro family threw a big party for his son''s birthday and asked him to demonstrate his newfound sword skills."

    "...that."

    Xindiwendi held up a hand to interrupt Vikir.

    But Vikir was undaunted, and continued.

    "With everyone gathered, my son demonstrated his swordsmanship, but everyone there was in for a big surprise, for what he demonstrated was the Baskerville style of swordsmanship, which is only shared in secret among the Baskervilles."

    "...that, stop."

    "The Baskervilles are terribly protective of their family''s swordsmanship. Believing that a top-secret military secret had been revealed, the Baskerville patriarch unleashed the hounds, and from that day forward, House Messinadnaro would disappear from the face of the earth."

    "Stop it, you bastard!"

    Xindiwendi shouted sharply.

    But Vikir didn''t stop.

    "But as it turns out, House Messinadnaro was not guilty. It was the children of the other seven houses who lured their son with the promise of a good sword book, and they lured a young boy from Baskerville to take it from them and teach it to the child of House Messinadnaro, and the child demonstrated it in front of a group of adults to prove that it was good. It was by design."

    "But there was one survivor of the Messinadnaro family, all of whom were said to have been wiped out, a little girl of one year old Turl, and the Seven Wretches managed to sneak her out of that massacre."

    "...E. E!"

    Xin Di Wendi staggered, then leaned back against the wall.

    Her eyes were red and bloodshot.

    Vikir finished.

    "That girl had to be subjected to all sorts of cruel, low, and shameful tortures just because she was bright and fair, and the details of those tortures... I can''t even begin to tell you."

    "I don''t want to hear any more. Goodbye."

    A bloody tear trickled from one of Xin Diwendi''s eyes.

    She took her back away from the wall and staggered toward the outside.

    Then.

    "I told you, if you don''t listen, you''ll regret this day for the rest of your life."

    Vikir stood in ce, unmoving, and continued.

    "There''s a sequel to this story."

    "...?"

    Xin Di Wendi stopped in her tracks.

    Vikir shrugged once.

    "And quite a bit of time has passed, and a new deputy magistrate hase to the city."

    "...."

    "He brought out all the old enemies within the city and punished them."

    "...."

    "And the trigger for the event was the seven rascals who drove House Messinadnaro to ruin."

    Cindywendy turned her head to look at Vikir.

    Vikir looked him straight in the eye and spoke.

    "The new deputy tortured those seven brats to death."

    "...."

    "It was such horrible torture that a torturer who had been working at the castle for thirty years vomited up what he had just eaten.

    "...."

    "And as theyy dying, the seven wretches confessed all the sins they hadmitted, including those against House Messinadnaro. They admitted and apologized for all their sins."

    Then Xindiwendi cried out sharply.

    "Apologize! How dare they apologize to anyone!"

    "To ...the sole survivor of House Messinadnaro. To that girl. To the girl who currently goes by the pseudonym ''Sen Rose Cindywendy'' and whose real name is ''Messinadnaro Sen Cindywendy''."

    Hearing this, Cindy Wendy staggered back with a dazed look on her face.

    "Ew!"

    She vomited out the contents of her stomach.

    Her vision spun.

    The darkness of the dungeon was pitch ck.

    The rotten stench that had been hovering in the cell from earlier seemed to be getting stronger and stronger.

    Xin Diwendi braced herself against the wall with one hand and held her forehead with the other.

    She spat on the floor and asked.

    "How can I believe your words?"

    "...."

    "How am I supposed to believe you when you say you caught them, tortured them, got to the bottom of it, and got an apology!"

    Sindhiwendi screamed.

    There was no answer from Vikir.

    Only.

    ...snarl!

    Vikir drew fire from the rod in his hand and lit a torch.

    Suddenly, the dungeon cell was brightly lit.

    And then.

    "...!"

    Xin Diwendi''s eyes widened to tears.

    Seven headless corpses were kneeling in the corner of the room.

    Their fingers were all worn out, and the blood that flowed from them had stained the floor, walls, and even the ceiling.

    The entire room was stained red with blood.

    Upon closer inspection, the red color of the floor, ceiling, and walls had been covered over and over again with countless letters.

    -Please forgive me for my mistake, I deserve to die, I beg you not to touch me as much as my family...

    -Meshinadnaro, we are the ones who destroyed the gate, please forgive us for our sins...

    -Sincerely apologize to ThindiwendiWe are the ones who have sinned against leather...

    -Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong...

    -Save me, save me, save me, save me, save me...

    -I don''t want to dieI don''t want to die...

    -I''m scaredI''m scaredI''m scared...

    Corpses that smell rotten.

    And apologies scrawled across the floor, all ten fingers worn down from when they were alive.

    The blood that made up the apology stained the entire room red.

    "...."

    Xin Diwendi stood in the center of the red room, looking at Vikir with a puzzled expression.

    Then Vikir walked in front of her.

    "But the vengeance of House Messinadnaro is far from over."

    "...."

    "For there is still one family left."

    Vikir''s meaning was clear.

    That meant their greatest enemy, House Baskerville, remained.

    Vikir said.

    "me the Baskervilles. You deserve it."

    "...."

    "And apart from that, I speak for all Baskervilles."

    Vikir''s back bent slowly in front of Cindywendy.

    "I''m sorry."

    And at the same time.

    Dip-dip-dip-dip-dip.

    Tears began to fall from Xindiwendi''s eyes andnd on the stone floor.

    "...."

    "...."

    The two stared at each other for a while, unmoving.

    Then Cindy Wendy spoke.

    "Since you are also a Baskerville,... why are you helping me?"

    Vikir made no reply.

    And the sharp-eyed Sindhiwendi understood the meaning of his silence.

    The dislike and hatred of Baskerville is within and without, but it is the same.

    In that way, Vikir and Cindywendy understood each other well.

    And then.

    Sindhiwendi walked out of the prison.

    She turned to Vikir, who was still inside, and said in a voice that was uncharacteristically calm.

    "No matter what you do in life, I''ll make sure you never run out of money."

    Vikir had a new sponsor.

 Chapter 40: Morg’s United Front (1)

    <h4>Chapter 40: Morg��s United Front (1)</h4>

    The morning dawned.

    Last night. Vikir had slept in the pavilion across the street from the city magistrate''s office after his night shift.

    Knowing that, the Chihuahua had been there early in the morning.

    "Hey, sleepy assistant magistrate. The sun is already up, it''s time for you to go to work...uhhhhhhhh!?"

    After knocking on the door, the Chihuahua didn''t get to finish his morning greeting before letting out a grotesque scream.

    There was blood everywhere.

    Blood, blood, blood, soaking down the white bedspread and staining the marble tiles on the floor in a grid-like pattern.

    The walls, the ceiling, the bed, all drenched in blood.

    "Ah. Good morning, sir."

    Vikir gets up from the bed with too much nonchnce.

    Judging by his sleepy expression, he really was asleep just a moment ago.

    And on the bed beneath him lies a corpse, head and torso separated.

    A dagger is clutched in the hand of a ck-cloaked man, clearly an assassin.

    Vikir looked at the assassin''s body on the floor.

    "Hmm? I don''t remember him, he must have killed me in my sleep."

    "Zee, is that true?"

    "Of course not. It''s a lighthearted joke."

    Vikir tried to make a joke of his own, thinking, "Wouldn''t a 15-year-old be this yful?" but the Chihuahua didn''t seem to realize it was a joke in the first ce.

    "So, Your Excellency..., what kind of childhood did you have back home?"

    "Was it not much fun?"

    "No, it wasn''t a matter of fun...."

    The Chihuahua seemed in many ways at a loss for words.

    Vikir shook his head in disbelief.

    "I''ve been getting a lot of these fliestely."

    Two poisoned arrows, four poisoned sses, six street burying attacks, stabbings, sulfuric acid spraying, sniping, arson, carriage ramming, etc.....

    All in thest three days.

    This was the first assassin to enter his bedroom, but even he was no match for Vikir.

    Every warrior who had lived through the Age of Destruction had mastered the art of sensing the killing around them in their sleep, and Vikir was no different.

    "Hmph. I guess I should look on the bright side. It means I''m getting noticed, right?"

    "You''ve got some nerve, man."

    "You''re disrespectful to your superiors, sir."

    I retorted nonchntly and turned to put on my robe.

    The Chihuahua stuck out its tongue as Vikir nonchntly followed her out of the bedroom.

    "Looking at you, it''s hard to believe you''re really 15 years old."

    "Where''s the blood in that?"

    "Even if it is Baskerville blood... I mean, weren''t the rest of the Baskervilles like this in the first ce, and the previous Archon was...."

    The Chihuahua continued to babble, but Vikir was already tuning out his words.

    Instead, his mind was on the payoff from hisst illegal auction house heist.

    <Binge Fly ''Beelzebub''> / Awl

    -1 slot: Burn �C Cerberus (A+)

    -2 slot: Choke �C Infernal Buffalo (A)

    Slot -3: Bleed �C Hellhound (B+)

    Magic Sword Beelzebub.

    This strange de, which drains and absorbs the abilities of those it kills, was sealed with the power of Murcigo the Infernal Buffalo, a beast you met at the auction house some time ago.

    The troll''s C+-ranked danger ability, Super Rapid Regeneration, was gone, reced by the infernal buffalo''s Tight Throat Breath.

    While "Super Fast Regeneration" is an ability to quickly heal an injured body, "Tough Breath" is much more versatile, as it makes the body so tough and hard that it cannot be injured in the first ce.

    In the first ce, the Infernal Buffalo was a high-level beast that couldn''t even bepared to a troll, so it was no wonder its effects were superior.

    ''I didn''t know there was a ss A demonic corpse in the auction house, I''m lucky.''

    After consuming it, he was able to easily defeat the assassin who came yesterday.

    The assassin who had infiltrated the pcest night was a Gradual.

    Even though he was only a low ranked Gradual, I remembered that he produced an aura that was as sticky as liquid.

    It was an unexpected attack, and the dagger slightly pierced my chest.

    But thanks to a synergisticbination of the protection of the River Styx and the hardiness of the Infernal Buffalo, Vikir''s body was left with only a faint scar.

    The assassin himself would not have known.

    "Mu, whose body is so hard...!?

    Little did he know that this would be hisst words.

    "I''m going to find out who''s behind these assassins and put them out of business."

    "That makes sense."

    In fact, though he hadn''t told the Chihuahua, Vikir was thinking of resigning from his position as deputy magistrate after this job was done.

    Just like Xindiwendi had told him not long ago.

    Just then.

    Something happened to help Vikir''s ns.

    The call came from Baskerville itself.

    A huge ck carriage stood in front of the city hall.

    A luxury carriage emzoned with the Baskervilles'' toothy logo.

    Visiting the town hall early in the morning was a man Vicky knew well.

    Deacon John Barrymore, who hade to see Vikir personally.

    "Master. Long time no see."

    "I see, Deacon. You look better."

    Deacon Barrymore beamed at Vikir''s response.

    "Look at that. Didn''t I tell you when you left the main house that you would do well?"

    The rumors of the outside world had reached the main house.

    They were all about the underdog city''s new deputy magistrate.

    "Lucky in many ways. The timing was right."

    But the rumor-monger himself remains uncharacteristically modest.

    Deacon Barrymore then revealed the reason for his visit.

    "My lord is looking for you. Presumably, he wants an urate report on this incident."

    "If it was a report, I would have already submitted it in writing."

    "Haha, is that the same as having your sone and tell you in person?"

    After speaking, Barrymore stroked his mustache and narrowed his eyes.

    "You''re so excited. I''ve never seen you smile like that before."

    * * *

    Hugo Les Baskervilles.

    He was still sitting at his patriarch''s desk, his face expressionless.

    But Vikir could sense an alien aura emanating from him.

    It was.

    "...Well done, son."

    It was uncharacteristically warm.

    Hugo set today''s morning paper down on his desk.

    <Underdog City''s citizens'' favorite person is Vikir, number one>.

    <Vikir, the #1 most trusted person by merchants in Underdog City>.

    <Vikir is the #1 favorite of the peasants of Underdog City.

    <Vikir is the #1 person that children in Underdog City admire the most>.

    <Vikir is the #1 favorite of intellectuals in the underdog city>.

    <Underdog City''s assassins most want to kill, Vikir> .

    .

    .

    The results of the poprity poll of the citizens were on the front page of the newspaper.

    "You''ve done a great job."

    "You did what you had to do."

    "There are a lot of dumbasses out there who can''t do what they''re supposed to do."

    Hugo looked at Vikir, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

    "Illegal ve trading is a felony punishable by death for both buyer and seller. Your actions have beenmended by the Imperial Court."

    "I am honored."

    "This is your chance to dispel the myth that Baskervilles are only good with a sword and bad with their heads. You''ve done a great job."

    Vikir''s specialw, his performance in proiming it, and his vigorous enforcement of thew set a precedent for all the cities under the Baskervilles'' control, and even the imperial family.

    Hugo''s unorthodox appointment was rewarded by Vikir''s unorthodox performance.

    One of the Baskervilles'' customs is to be sure of reward and punishment.

    If you do well, you get rewarded; if you don''t, you get punished.

    Vikir had done an outstanding job and should be rewarded ordingly.

    And today, Hugo had summoned Vikir to the main house to discuss the reward.

    "Admission to the Academy."

    The Colosseo, the Imperial Academy, the ce where every elite in the world dreamed of entering.

    Hearing that, Vikir asked.

    "Isn''t it customary to enter the academy at the age of 20?"

    "If you''re good enough, there''s no age limit. You can be an early adopter or ate adopter, as long as you fulfill the following conditions: no more than 25 years old when you enter and no more than 30 years old when you graduate."

    "...I will live up to your expectations."

    Vikir interjected with a short testimonial.

    Hmm?

    Hugo, who normally would have ended the conversation at this point, showed a rare willingness to continue.

    "I''m sending a few people, including you, to the Academy, but I haven''t gotten around to organizing the entries yet."

    "...?"

    "Do you have any close brothers who would like to go with you?"

    The question waspletely unexpected. Didn''t it sound like something a father would ask his son?

    "Uh-oh. You''re a father.

    But then Vikir remembered something he had forgotten himself.

    He is Hugo''s son, after all.

    He hadn''t been treated like a son for so long that he had forgotten.

    Vikir hesitated a moment, then spoke.

    "I''m best friends with the triplets, Highbrow, Middlebrow, and Lowbrow."

    What''s the big deal about being best friends, if you want them around, you''re best friends.

    "...Is that so?"

    Hugo''s eyes widened a little in surprise, but then he nodded in understanding.

    "I''ll keep it in mind."

    That was the end of the conversation about the academy.

    Vikir had just finished his chaincy and was about to leave.

    "Oh, by the way. Son, stay a minute."

    "...?"

    Vikir stopped in his tracks and turned around, and Hugo rose briefly from his seat.

    Then he spoke in a low voice.

    "I''ve been looking over thews of your underdog city."

    "They are ... immature."

    "You''ve made quite a few changes to the agriculturalws. You''ve done a very efficient job."

    "That''s very ttering."

    Vikir had once reorganized thews governing therge farms on the outskirts of Underdog City, in the area where the Red and ck Mountains met in the lower reaches and wide open ins.

    In addition to the ruby mines, there are many fields of sugar cane, tobo, cotton, and other crops.

    They were mainly worked by savage captives.

    Is that why? The savages who asionally raided across the border often targeted farms on the outskirts of Underdog City.

    Hugo said.

    "Why don''t you take a quick tour of the estate before you enter the Academy? See if thews you''ve established are being followed. It would be good experience."

    "As you wish."

    Vikir obeyed, still unwilling to argue.

    Then.

    Hugo, who had been watching the scene with satisfaction, suddenly asked.

    "By the way, are you going alone?"

    "...?"

    Vikir scratched his head.

    So he''s going to go on a territorial tour by himself?

    When Vikir looked at Hugo with a puzzled expression, he settled back into his chair and spoke in a rxed voice.

    "This is a joint operation."

    At Hugo''s words, Vikir remained silent. It was an indication that he needed a little more exnation.

    Understanding that, Hugo got down to business.

    "Do you remember the operation you organized when you were eight years old? Why, the ruby mine."

    "...Of course. I seem to recall that it involved leasing the Ruby Mines area to the Morg and driving the barbarians towards it, keeping the two factions apart untouched."

    Aka the carnage map.

    The idea was that if they wanted to expand their borders, they''d have to deal with the barbarians anyway, so they might as well use the Morg to get rid of them.

    Hugo''s mouth curled into a wry smile.

    "The n worked."

    "And by worked, you mean...?"

    "The Morg made the first offer. Very low-key."

    Hugo hadn''t looked this happy in a long time.

    He turned to Vikir.

    "They''re talking about a joint war of attrition."

 Chapter 41: Morg’s United Front (2)

    <h4>Chapter 41: Morg��s United Front (2)</h4>

    "Farewell, I''ll leave you to your administrative duties!"

    Vikir left the city hall of Underdog City with a chihuahua salute.

    Leading a single ck horse toward the outskirts of the estate, Vikir was followed by another ck horse, Phil.

    "Good to see you again, Master."

    He was Lord Baskerville of Staffordshire, a knight of the Knights of the Pit Bull.

    He''d been in charge of Vikir''s training once, and had stood by his side when they''d taken down an illegal ve auction house.

    "How is Uncle Boston Terrier?"

    "Yes, he''s still alive, and ever since that day at the ve auction, he''s been urging me to bring Master Vikir into the Pitbull Knights. He''s also insisted that I do the same."

    "What?"

    "To never let the Wolfhound Knights take him away from me, never!"

    Staffordshire chuckled as he finished.

    Vikir nodded in agreement.

    They led the servants, supplies, and other entourage that followed them to the Red Awl Mountain on the outskirts of the estate.

    As the name suggests, a red mountain juts out steeply from the ground.

    At its base was a wide, t basin that entuated the mountain''s pointedness.

    Here, near the trunk of the great tributary to the Red and ck Mountains, the river is rich in sediment and thend is fertile, and farming is quite profitable.

    Crops of sugar cane, cotton, and tobo were growing, and these were the main products of Baskerville''s estate.

    And as you make your way across this vast expanse of farnd, you''ll see strata lined with reddish veins ahead.

    Here and there in the seismically fractured sections of the strata is a glint of red light: the ruby veins.

    There, men from the Morg family were digging for rubies.

    Simple forts of wood and stone rose high above the ground.

    From now on, the Baskervilles would have to be vignt, as the Morg had leased the area to them.

    Vikir''s sharp eyes scanned the farnd to the rear and the mining fields to the front.

    He didn''t see anything illegal going on.

    Just the usual scene of ves tending and harvesting crops, or digging with pickaxes.

    The Morgas hadn''t vited any treaties, either, perhaps because of the Baskervilles'' emissaries.

    Staffordshire exined to Vikir in a low voice.

    "This mission is nominally an inspection of ournds and goodwill, but...."

    "I know. That it is an outpost for the extermination of the barbarians behind the mountains."

    Otherwise, there would be no reason for Baskerville''s knights to be following so closely behind.

    The Baskervilles had entered Morg''s territory, disguised as a routine manor inspection party.

    The Morgans, of course, were aware of this.

    For some time now, Morg''s armed forces have also been gathering here, disguised as miners.

    Now Morg and Baskerville will join forces to crush the barbarians.

    The barbarians, unaware that arge force of swordsmen and wizards from both houses has gathered here, will rush in as usual, plundering crops and ves, and that will be the beginning of the end.

    Staffordshire said.

    "I hear that there are one deputy and twelve senators from the Light Party in Morgga, and one deputy and neen senators from the Dark Party, and it seems that there are other wizards who are not senators."

    "The Morgas have put their money where their mouth is."

    While the Morgas have made this much of amitment, the Baskervilles have, at best, brought a few dozeny knights, with Vikir, a member of the House of Representatives.

    It didn''t matter, though, because the real elite of the Baskervilles were lying in ambush on the other side of the mountains, and that had also been agreed upon with Morgue.

    Vikir was really here to inspect the estate and socialize.

    ''Well, if Hugo''s right, it would be nice to be able to examine the ecology of the barbarians.

    Soon, the Baskervilles began to traverse the mining district.

    Everywhere they looked, they saw coal mines, and they saw palisades, stockades, and watchtowers rising high above them.

    Just then.

    "Hmm?"

    Vikir slowed his horse as he spotted something.

    His nose caught the scent of burning.

    The smell of meat roasted to the limit and then charred to ckness.

    As if on cue, the horses are frightened and hesitate.

    Ahead of me, I see something perpendicr to the ground.

    It was long and pointed, sprouting vertically from the ground and reaching for the sky.

    And in the middle of it was something.

    Vikir kicked his hesitant horse in the back and pushed forward.

    The identity of the strange sculptures was now clear.

    It was a giant skewer of iron.

    Only one being could have created such a thing, an iron skewer forged from the trace elements of iron contained in the soil.

    "A mage."

    It''s not surprising to see something like this in the grounds of the Morg family, who are known for their mage sect.

    However, the things pierced by the skewers and nailed to the ground are quite alien.

    Skulls. And charred flesh.

    The bodies impaled on the skewers had all been burned to death.

    The bodies were mixed and matched, demonic and human alike, and some of them had been burned to the bone, leaving nothing but empty skewers.

    Whirling.

    With each gust of wind, the skewered corpses crumble into ck powder.

    ...Gross!

    A lump of charcoal, unknown to the barbarians or the demons, falls from the skewer and scatters ash on the ground.

    "You''ve been warned."

    Staffordshire said, looking up at all the things that had been impaled on the skewer and burned to death.

    This must be a warning to the demons and barbarians of Morgoth.

    And Vikir already knew of one person who did this.

    ''...You must have grown up, then.

    Vikir was reminiscing in his mind.

    "Who''s there!"

    "Stand down!"

    "Identify yourself!"

    Ankaljin shouts came from the watchtower up ahead.

    Vikir looks up and sees three women descending from the top of the watchtower.

    Elderly women, treading on thin air as if it were a staircase.

    Fiery red hair, dresses out of ce in a murderous fortress.

    Viktor already knew their identities from his knowledge before the regression.

    "Highsis, Middlesis, and Lowsis, triplets of Morgoth.

    Sixteen wives of the year.

    Each a master of water, grass, and earth magic, and the synergy of the three of them together?

    Born on the same day and at the same hour, they were called the Three Flowers of Morgoth.

    However, the world called them something different.

    Samhwa

    It means "three gues.

    Each one of them was said to have an insane personality, and together, they were said to be unstoppable.

    They were notorious in Baskerville for their pride and arrogance.

    It''s no wonder they''re the ones who ruin the friendlypetition every year.

    To top it all off, they have strong magical skills that make up for their nasty personalities.

    And here they were, the three sisters of Morgoth, guarding the gateway fortress to Morgoth territory.

    Vikir stepped forward and spoke.

    "We are emissaries of House Baskerville."

    Heisis, at the head of the line, smirks.

    "So?"

    "So, we''re here to inspect the estate and exchange goodwill. Open the gates of the fortress."

    "Not now. I''ve sent a report to those in charge, so wait."

    The horse said wait, not wait and see.

    Vikir asked.

    "How long do we have to wait?"

    "I don''t know, maybe tomorrow? Ho-ho-ho-"

    It was more than a plea, it was an argument.

    Vikir''s eyes narrowed.

    "In what name are you preventing Baskerville from entering Baskerville''snd? You are arrogant for a tenant."

    "What? You call me a tenant? Don''t you know the Tenant Protection Act? That''s aw of your own making? Don''t you even know your own family''sws?"

    "If that''s thew, I''ve already changed it. I''ve already amended it to allow me to evict true tenants."

    "...."

    Vikir urged his horse forward a little more while Hyssis was speechless.

    "I am the deputy magistrate of the city of Underdog. I am here by appointment, and this is thest time I will speak to you."

    "...."

    "Open the door."

    Hearing Vikir''s words, the three Morg sisters exchanged nces for a moment.

    Then the eldest, Hyssis, smirked.

    "I''ve heard that there''s a younger one in the city of Underdog."

    "Oh, but what are we going to do about it?"

    "If it''s a young rascal, we''ve had enough of them!"

    The three sisters drew mana into their palms.

    And then.

    ...Quack, quack, quack!

    Water, grass, and earth magic unfolded, and Baskerville crashed down in front of them.

    Vikir frowned slightly and reared his horse back.

    The three sisters''ughter rang out from beyond the billowing mushroom cloud.

    "Giggle, giggle-we''ll wait for you, you ignorant swordsmen!"

    "Not even Baskerville dares to enter Morg''snd!"

    "Shall these sisters see what a supernova a Baskerville is?"

    Then Staffordshire came to Vikir''s side and said.

    "I don''t think we should tell them."

    Vikir was thinking the same thing.

    Just then.

    "How dare you bitches who don''t even know the subject speak in front of anyone!"

    "You''re a fool!"

    "You''re a fool!"

    Three shouts erupted from the Baskervilles'' emissary.

    Soon, three familiar faces emerged from the dirt.

    Highbrow, Middlebrow, and Lowbrow.

    The Baskervilles'' triplets, who had been at the back of the delegation, stepped forward.

    They stood side by side, now friendly again, and red at the three Morg sisters as they descended.

    They snorted.

    "Don''t you know the subject?"

    "So you guys are higher up than us?"

    "Don''t you dare."

    But the three brothers denied their words.

    "Not us."

    "Not us."

    "Not us."

    "Then who?"

    "Who?"

    "Who?"

    The three siblings turned their heads in unison at the question.

    "This is our Baskerville street sign!"

    The direction the three brothers stare in awe and fear.

    That''s where Vikir was standing.

 Chapter 42: Morg’s United Front (3)

    <h4>Chapter 42: Morg��s United Front (3)</h4>

    Vikir thought.

    ''?''

    What kind of situation is this?

    For the first time since his return, something unexpected had happened.

    The three infamous young Baskervilles, who woulde to be known as Hugo''s Trident, had begun pretending to be friendly with Vikir.

    The trio had even crossed the line of fire several times before Vikir regressed, and crucially, it was their fault that he was captured and executed at thest minute.

    ... But what about now?

    The High, Middle, and Low Brothers stood in a circle around Vikir.

    Whereas before they had surrounded him to harass him, now they were surrounding him to protect him.

    "He''s the poster boy for our line, you can''t let him fight just anyone. He has to pull his weight."

    "Protect."

    "Protect."

    Lowbro even turned his head and winked at Vikir.

    Vikir was even more bewildered.

    "I just got my finger chopped off, and this is what he''s going to do?

    But this wasn''t the first time Vikir had encountered this behavior from the triplets.

    "Certainly, they''ve been noticeably more civilized since thest time they hunted a troll in front of everyone.

    Maybe even before that. Maybe since he''d killed a Cerberus in his first practical assessment at the age of eight?

    I knew something was off when I walked up to Vikir while he was scarfing down a haggis and pretended to be friendly.

    Vikir had spent his entire life avoiding the attention of his siblings.

    They were too weak and young to be worthy of his attention.

    But this indifference must have caused a mutation in the triplets'' minds.

    After all, it was in the Baskervilles'' nature to follow the philosophy of the strongest.

    What''s more, they seemed to be under a strange illusion.

    "Leave this ce to us, Vikir. We''ll repay you for rmending us to the Academy."

    "Leave it to us, Vikir. We''ll repay you."

    "Leave it to us, Vikir. We''ll make it up to you."

    The triplets speak with determination.

    Vikir suddenly remembered his conversation with Hugo not long ago.

    He had mentioned the triplets without thinking when asked who he was close to, and it had apparently impressed them.

    Vikir decided to keep his mouth shut.

    "...."

    It''s always cute to see a kid who thinks he''s doing something great.

    (Plus, these triplets have a fucked-up personality, so that''s one cute thing about them.)

    Vikir thought for a moment.

    "They could be useful.

    These triplets will surely grow up to be very useful killing machines.

    They might not have the brains to make their own decisions, but they certainly knew how to do what they were told.

    They''ve been used for all sorts of sneaky and dirty jobs, so they''ve proven to be both skilled and loyal.

    Hounds, literally. Fiercely obedient to their master''smand.

    And that was something Vikir knew all too well, having been bitten by their teeth.

    Finally, Vikir gritted his teeth in defeat.

    "I''ll give you a chance, brothers."

    The triplets'' faces lit up.

    They stood in front of Vikir, looking even more pleased than when they''d received Hugo''s praise at the end-of-the-month review.

    "Well, if they''re going to go to all that trouble, why shouldn''t I?

    Vikir decided to stay in the background for now.

    Next.

    The three sisters of Morg and the three brothers of Baskerville were about to face off.

    The three sisters of Morg and the three brothers of Baskerville had already met at several annual events, and they had a reputation for getting along very badly.

    The three sisters struck first.

    "What a bunch of idiots, all you know how to do is stick together in threes."

    Lausis was the first to bring her hands to the ground.

    With her powerful Water Realm magic, she formed countless water droplets and began to shoot them out.

    Puff-puff-puff!

    The force of the water droplets flying at high speed was powerful.

    It was said that falling water could take a long time to pierce through rocks, but the manaden droplets she was sending out could pierce through rocks in an instant.

    The ground is devastated.

    The droplets of water that Lowsis unleashed pierced countless holes in the ground, drenching the earth with moisture.

    Middlesea followed suit.

    She specializes in powerful earth magic, and with a sweep of her hands, she gathers the loose soil together.

    Crunch, crunch, crunch.

    At Middlesea''smand, the waterlogged and deformable soil formed an earth wall that surrounded the three sisters.

    What''s more, sharp rocks protruded from its surface like des, allowing for both defense and offense.

    Finally, the eldest sister, Hyssis, stepped forward.

    Specializing in powerful grass magic, she flicked her hands together and pulled the grass seeds from beneath the ground.

    Thick nt stalks sprouted and vines grew, feeding on the waters of Lowthis and the soil of Middlethis.

    Land, water, and nt life worked in synergy to make Morg''s fortifications stronger and stronger, while at the same time putting pressure on their enemies.

    Indeed, these are the qualities that have earned it the name "The Three Flowers of Morg.

    But Baskerville''s three brothers were no slouches either.

    "Heh, heh, heh, heh, what are we going to do with all that grass and no meat?"

    "What are you going to do?"

    "What are we going to do?"

    Hive was the first to jump up.

    A pale aura of gaseous form drew out a single sharp tooth and mmed it into the dirt wall in front of him.

    Then.

    ...Pow! Pow!

    The earthen wall cracked open, revealing the inside.

    It was only one circle of magic, so its defense was obviously limited.

    The des of Middle Bro and Low Bro followed suit, shing down.

    The high-speed rotating auras vaporized the flying water droplets and shredded the nt stalks.

    ng! ng! Pow!

    Sword and magic shed ferociously.

    The magic was drawing in more mana, recreating the power of the elements more strongly, and the sword was exploding with firewood from the mana and life force in his body.

    Which is stronger, magic or sword?

    It was an ever-present debate between the neighboring realms of Morg and Baskerville.

    And at the forefront of that debate today stood these three sisters and three brothers.

    Each of the six was fighting to prove their family''s banner.

    "...."

    Watching on, Vikir was bored to tears.

    After all, what tension could there be in a battle between three first-ss mages who could only use first-circle magic and three lowly Sword Expert juniors who had just mastered the first form of Baskerville?

    What''s more, Vikir is a cripple from across the river, with no real attachment or brotherhood to the Baskervilles.

    "I wish they''d all just die.

    It''s an extremely cynical attitude.

    But the other knights of Baskerville, with the exception of Vikir, had a different attitude.

    They all seemed to be quite excited, even if they didn''t say so.

    Staffordshire turned to Vikir, who had a sullen expression on his face.

    "Aren''t you having fun?"

    "What?"

    "Isn''t it apetition of talent and potential among young dreamers who will one day carry the family name in tow?"

    "If you put it that way, I''m a dreamer."

    "Master, you''re already... and you''re not fit to y in that age group."

    "It''s just a waste of time. I must pass quickly, I have a meeting with the head of the fort to discuss...."

    But Vikir couldn''t finish his sentence.

    Quack, quack, quack!

    A powerful explosion ripped through the area.

    "Kaaaah!"

    "Ugh!"

    The three sisters of the Morg family and the three brothers of the Baskerville family were all stunned.

    mes roared, consuming everything around them.

    Skewers of steel rose from the ground, turning the area into a field of thorns.

    Puff, puff, puff!

    The skewered wall of earth copses in an instant.

    The searing heat burned away the water and vegetation before Baskerville pushed back the triplets'' des and sent them flying.

    A line of fire and iron, red and ck, separates the Morgans from the Baskervilles in an instant.

    The magic was so powerful that even the other Baskervilles, who had been watching the children''s fight with amusement, half-sheathed their swords in surprise.

    Crackle, crackle, crackle, crackle!

    In the blink of an eye, the surrounding cotton fields turned into an inferno.

    The Baskerville triplets barely made it beyond the wall of fire.

    But their hair was already charred to a crisp.

    "Hey, what the hell, you almost burned me!"

    "What the hell!"

    "What!"

    The triplets jerked their heads up to protest Morg''s overreach.

    But Morg''s three sisters on the other side of the room were treated even worse.

    Not only are they scorched by the mes, but they''ve been skewered, scratched and torn all over.

    Crawling on the floor, Highsis, Middlesis, and Lowsis had dark horror in their eyes.

    "Hmph, hmph... I almost died just now...."

    "If you had dodged a littleter, you would have died, hmph-"

    "Sisters- I''m scared-"

    Seeing them stutter, the Baskerville triplets quickly shut their mouths to protest.

    Morg was unrelenting, even against his own family.

    All heads turned toward the direction the fire magic hade from.

    Then, from beyond the barrier of fire, came a calm voice.

    "... What is this?"

    A cold voice, but somehow familiar.

    And with it, an enforcer of iron skewers and hot mes.

    The distant nickname that wouldtere to be known as Jian Tian Muhu.

    Morg''s mistress, who woulde to be known as the Queen of Fire and Skewers, or the Queen of Red and ck.

    ''... But she is still young.

    Vikir looked up.

    An eight-year-old girl in a blur of memories.

    And now, a fully grown fifteen-year-old girl.

    Morg Camus.

    She looked down at him, reunited after seven years.

 Chapter 43: The Fiancée (1)

    <h4>Chapter 43: The Fianc��e (1)</h4>

    A Morg supernova.

    The only daughter of Morg Respane, the patriarch of the house.

    Bloodline for bloodline, talent for talent, personality for personality, looks for looks.

    No one can doubt that she will be the future head of Morg''s household.

    ''And yet a child of fifteen.''

    Vikir lifted his head and looked beyond the barrier of fire and the dead pool of skewers.

    Morg Camu. She stood in an arrogant pose, looking down.

    Her three sisters, sprawled out on the floor, tremble at the sight of her.

    "Oh, it''s a camel, sisters..."

    "Ooohhh, they''re just trying to ward off intruders..."

    "They started the fight!"

    Highsis, Middlesis, and Lowsis are a year older than Camu.

    But they were crushed by the overwhelming force of Camu''s strength, unable to catch their breath.

    It was an unusual sight for the Morg, a martial arts family where the hierarchy between siblings is strictly based on age and achievement.

    And then. Camu smiled seductively.

    "Camu, are you talking to me, sisters?"

    "Hic! Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!"

    "Get out of the way. If you don''t want to be like that."

    The camel stretches out a finger in annoyance.

    There, impaled on iron skewers, burned corpses lined the border.

    It became clear who had created this murderousndscape.

    "Gah!"

    The three sisters fled, shaken by the words of their one-year-old brother.

    An eerie silence falls over the battlefield as they disappear.

    "...."

    "...."

    "...."

    Even the Baskervilles'' triplets, who had just bared their teeth, cowered before the camel.

    Then the camo reined in his horse and rode toward the Baskervilles.

    She stopped exactly in front of Vikir, locked eyes with him, and opened her mouth.

    "Wee, partner."

    She was referring, of course, to the joint operation against the demons and barbarians that was about to unfold.

    * * *

    After seven years, Morg''s straight face had changed quite a bit.

    The freckles on his face are gone, and his wisdom teeth are gone.

    Her cheeks were still plump fromck of milk, but she was already showing signs of what she would grow into and how beautiful she would be.

    Vikir recalled her appearance from a distance a few times before her regression.

    "She must have been about thirty, and she was pretty.

    ''Dazzling'' could not have been a more apt description of her beauty, a beauty that even Vikir, who had never cared much for a woman''s appearance, admired.

    With all the love letters and marriage proposalsing in from Camu, Morgha would have enough firewood for the winter.

    And the Camoos themselves enjoyed the situation.

    She had all thedies by the skirts and was involved in scandals here and there.

    It was a strategic move, of course.

    While she despised the men who clung to her beauty, she yed with their minds, fomenting rivalries and conflicts between the houses, and absorbing all the byproducts into the Morg''s service.

    In a highly political move, she refused to give her heart or body to any man until the end, which made all men crave her love all the more.

    She ruled over countless captive men.

    She greatly multiplied Morg and revolutionized the war against the demons.

    ... but.

    This was before the regression.

    In this life, the Camouge is somehow less scandalous.

    She is surprisingly quiet, considering that by the time she turned 15, she was already managing fisheries for the imperial family, as well as the other powerful men of the other six families.

    Rumor has it that she is not seeing a single man, despite her age.

    "I don''t understand.

    Vikir reined in his horse with a bit of puzzlement.

    Beside him, Camus reined in his horse, following closely behind.

    "So this is not how things are in Baskerville, .... The damage done by the barbarian tribes is... so we''ve sorted them out, and in Morg, we''ve decided to forge an alliance with Baskerville against them...."

    He rambled on and on.

    Vikir didn''t say much, other than a few dry chuckles.

    Camu turned to Vikir and asked.

    "Apparently, the Baskervilles don''t know much about the enemy and the barbarians of the ck Mountains, do they?"

    "Of course not. They fight them all the time, and they should know better than you."

    "Then why did you send only your own men, all of whom are young and raggedy hounds?"

    Camouge had finally realized the quality of Baskerville''s envoys.

    Vikir was about to reply that they were Moors, but then he shut his mouth.

    It had already been agreed with Morg that Baskerville''s true ''home'' lurked in the mountains on the other side.

    "What do you ask when you know?"

    The camo chuckled.

    "I was just wondering if you knew about it."

    "Of course I know, it''s a family affair, and I''m in charge of the mission here."

    "It could have been a scarecrow used as a discard pawn within the House, but I get it now."

    Camu urged his horse forward, toward Vikir.

    He looked back at Vikir and smiled.

    "That you are quite trusted within the n."

    The camo continued with his questions.

    "Do you know which of the barbarian tribes is the most troublesome?"

    Of course I don''t. It was one of Vikir''s primary duties to search out and destroy the enemy and the ck Mountains before returning home.

    "From Morg''s perspective, it would be the Bk, a warrior tribe, and the Rokoko, a shaman tribe."

    The Bk are the mostmon warrior tribe in the Bordends, and while their numbers are small, each member of the tribe is a powerful warrior, making them a headache for Baskerville.

    "Their archery is far more powerful than that of the Empire, and its principles are not well understood."

    "Hmm. That''s right, they''re a mysterious people."

    Camu nodded, then looked back at Vikir, his eyes shining.

    "You''re very knowledgeable about the ecology of savage tribes. Eight points."

    "Huh."

    "On a scale of one hundred, you''re flunking."

    Camu stuck out his tongue, and Vikir frowned slightly.

    "I answered well, so why is your score like that?"

    "Because you answered well."

    "...?"

    When Vikir still looked puzzled, the camel grinned, a wry smile curving the corners of his mouth.

    "What''s a man to do with being smart?"

    "...?"

    "I don''t like smart men, Zagoro males are supposed to be dumb."

    Apparently, the mindset that had gripped and shaken so many men before the regression wasn''t going anywhere.

    Vikir spurred his horse faster, as if he didn''t deserve an answer.

    But the camouge followed him, giving him a long list of ratings.

    "Horsemanship, six. Maybe it''s because you''re shorter than me, but you''re riding a horse that''s too big for you."

    "...."

    "Fashion 4. Your clothes are too drab."

    "...."

    "No answer? 1 point for manners."

    "...."

    "Well, your face is a 99. You''ve grown up nicely. But I''m deducting one point for not managing your facial expressions."

    My ears began to burn from listening.

    Vikir cut him off.

    "Stop giving me stupid grades."

    "Why is it useless?"

    "And where is it useful?"

    "Of course it''s for our future, isn''t it?"

    Our future?

    At Vikir''s incredulous look, Camu shrugged and puffed out his chest.

    "You''re my future husband, so I''m going to weigh in."

    "...."

    "If I''m flirting with you, then you should evaluate me too, right?"

    "...."

    "No, I''d rather be judged, because I need to know what you think of me."

    Vikir asked in disbelief.

    "Why do you think I''m your husband?"

    "Why? You passed your uncle''s test the other day."

    As Vikir thought about what he was saying, he remembered a time when he hadpeted against Morg''s deputy, Adolf.

    At the time, Adolf the Mad had a jar of water on his head, and Viktor had broken his sword at the end of the duel and used the shards to break the jar, passing Adolf''s test.

    ''... But that was already seven years ago.''

    But now he was saying it as if it had happened yesterday.

    Camu shuddered and said

    "How could my uncle judge my husbandliness by such a crude test! He made that promise in front of everyone, and now I''m a married woman, but what can I do? A promise is a solemnw! I have to obey it, even if I don''t want to. I''ll obey it, I''ll obey it, I''ll obey it...!"

    No one said anything, but he was burning hot.

    Vikir watched and thought.

    "What an aplished fire mage.

    If he had mastered fire magic to the extreme, would he be able to spontaneouslybust like that?

    Vikir was mildly curious.

    Anyway, that''s that and this is this.

    It would do no good to go against the wishes of the woman who was to be the head of Morg''s household, so Vikir was considerate of Camu.

    "Forget what happened that day. I''ll pretend it never happened."

    For a moment, the camel stiffened.

    Vikir watched and thought.

    "A paralyzing spell? That''s amazing for a moment. But why did he cast it on himself?

    Sometimes wizards could do things you couldn''t understand.

    I didn''t really care, but diplomacy dictates that I should at least ask what''s going on.

    Vikir had just opened his mouth to say.

    "Hey, how do you make something that wasn''t there, make something that was!"

    Camu suddenly screeched.

    For the first time since his regression, Vikir panicked.

    He had just opened his mouth to say something.

    "I know because I''m a genius and I never forget what I''ve seen!"

    With the camo''s shout, something flew into Vikir''s face.

    A shredded piece of cloth. It was a blood-red robe, the size of an eight-year-old''s.

    Boldly emzoned with the Baskervilles'' sigil, it was the cloak Vikir had once used to cover the naked camo.

    Seven years old, the cloak still smelled faintly of that day''s sweat.

    Holding it in his hand, Vikir scowled at the camel as it moved away.

    "... You''re giving it away without washing it.

 Chapter 44: The Fiancée (2)

    <h4>Chapter 44: The Fianc��e (2)</h4>

    The fortifications of Morg came into view.

    Huge earthen walls stood in a circle, dotted with wooden and iron watchtowers.

    Camu and Vikir were walking around the fortress, talking about this and that.

    "The barbarians are raiding the ruby mines and plundering the native ves and crops. They''re taking the ves not to save their own people, but to sell them as ves elsewhere."

    "Exactly. There are many barbarian tribes, and they do not consider each other kin, so they would not hesitate to sell criminals of their own tribe or captives of other tribes into very."

    "I see, and I''m d I don''t have to answer the stupid question of why barbarians fight amongst themselves."

    Camu reached out and gestured to the mud wall in front of them.

    "These walls were built by Earth and Iron mages for a month."

    The size of the wall was enormous.

    If ordinary people had built it, it would have taken a year, not a month.

    It would have taken hundreds of men to build it.

    Vikir moved closer to the earthen wall.

    Then he saw something strange.

    There was a grid of steel beams embedded in the hardened earth wall, but they were only visible to Vikir because of the holes in the wall.

    The earthen wall was pockmarked with holes that looked like the surface of a biscuit.

    Hundreds of them.

    Vikir studied the size of the holes.

    They looked to be about three centimeters in diameter.

    "...The marks of the Bk."

    Vikir''s sharp eyes were identifying the enemy, the famous barbarian tribe beyond the ck Mountains.

    Camu nodded.

    "The Bk are the most troublesome. Their arrows carry a powerful aura, and many a man has been killed by them while standing guard at night. They can punch through an earthen wall two or three meters thick, so do you have what it takes to defeat them?"

    "Even shield magic won''t stop it. They fly so fast."

    "Yes. That''s why my uncle almost got himself in trouble once, not long ago."

    The camel smirked.

    Not long ago, he said, he''d been sniped at while searching for Mad King Adolf himself.

    "I think the arrow pierced his shield, and it freaked him out. He was lucky to escape with his life, but his pride must have been bruised."

    "Come to think of it, my lord," said Vikir, "you had a simr experience, and I heard that you had a scar on the bridge of your nose."

    Vikir remembered the scar on the bridge of Hugo''s nose.

    Wounding Swordmaster Hugo and ss 6 Master Adolf, Bk''s archery was indeed something to be wary of.

    "It seems the barbarians have some talent. Who is it?"

    "I think it''s a woman, but she''s too far away to make out her identity, and they wear ck paint on their faces, so it''s hard to memorize."

    Camu threw up his hands in annoyance.

    "Anyway. The Bk are the most threatening, even though they only number about three hundred, and the next most threatening, the Rococo, are ten times less numerous."

    A warlike tribe, the Bk.

    They are a nomadic, plundering, warlike barbarian people who belong neither here nor there.

    They have been on the move for unknown reasons in thest seven years, and havee into increasing conflict with Baskerville.

    The Morg, who have recently leased some of Baskerville''s territory to develop ruby mines, are equally annoyed with Bk.

    Camu looked out over the water on the distant horizon and spoke.

    "The Morg have their fingers crossed, but... barbarian raids are so stealthy that it''s hard to detect them. Besides, we have a gap in our vignce about once a month."

    "Gaps?"

    Vikir asked, and Camu arched an eyebrow.

    "The Morg are a matriarchal society, so women are overwhelmingly in charge. Even the wizards who stand guard are women."

    "But what does that have to do with the gap?"

    "Well, about once a month, .... Because there''s magic."

    "But you''re mages, aren''t you?"

    Vikir asked, and the camo opened his mouth for a moment, then chuckled.

    "You''ve got a bit of a stupid side to you, don''t you?"

    "...?"

    "Okay. I like it. Bonus points for being a man''s man."

    It took Vikir a few ps on the shoulder before he understood what the camo meant.

    Just then.

    "Booyo!"

    In the distance, someone was looking for the camo.

    A female wizard rushed to the cage and bowed before him.

    "The hermitage''s search party has captured a barbarian scout alive!"

    A prisoner had been taken.

    * * *

    The one being dragged away in ropes was a man with brown skin and ck hair.

    From the tattoos on his body, Vikir could guess his tribe.

    "You''re from the shaman tribe, Rokoko.

    I don''t know how he ended up here, but his fate is already sealed.

    Morg Camu.

    She faced her captive with a fearsome aura.

    "Did you get any information?"

    The mages beside her cringed.

    "We''re not talking, for now."

    "What about mind magic?"

    "It doesn''t work. The powerful spell makes it impossible to read their memories."

    The camouge turned away.

    He walked over and stood in front of his captive.

    "You raided Morg''s fortress once before and took some ves."

    "...."

    "Among those ves was a Morg woman. She is my half-sister. Her name is Rose."

    Camu red at Rococo''s captive with searing eyes.

    "What did you do with her?"

    The captive''s tightly closed mouth slowly opened.

    "?????."

    At the word, the camo raised an eyebrow.

    "Interpretation. Where is the barbarian returnee?"

    But no one answered him.

    They just nced at each other uneasily.

    One wizard spoke up apologetically.

    "They were all killed or taken away when the barbarians attacked, Vice-Captain."

    "Then there is no one to trante his words?"

    "For the moment, no."

    It was an awkward moment.

    Everyone had a puzzled look on their faces.

    "I speak a little Rococo."

    Vikir stepped forward.

    Camu stared at him, wide-eyed.

    "You can do that, too? What are you not good at?"

    "Not very well. I just know the basic vocabry."

    Vikir stood in front of Camu.

    Camu asked.

    "Ask him where my half-brother is. The girl you kidnapped in thest raid. She has red hair, red eyes, and unusually white skin. She''s about 12 years old."

    Vikir nodded, then turned to Rococo''s captive in front of him.

    "?? ???? ?? ??????"

    A short reply came back.

    "???"

    Vikir''s expression hardened for a moment.

    Then he turned to the camel and shook his head.

    "He''s dead."

    At that, the faces of all the Morg turned grim.

    He had expected death when he was kidnapped, but hearing it was a different story.

    Then, Camu stepped forward.

    She growled in a low voice at her captive.

    "When this war is over, yournguage will be thenguage of hell."

    Those were thest words the prisoner heard.

    Camu said.

    "The delegate from the Light Party is being treated now. The Delegate of the Dark Party is now inspecting the opposite estate, and I, Morg Camu, a member of the Council and Deputy Fortressmaster, will make the judgment here."

    That was the end of the summary trial.

    And now.

    With a flick of his hand, Camu drew a circle of magic in the air.

    Then.

    ...Poof!

    Arge iron skewer sprouted from the ground.

    The iron elements hidden among the earth elements came together and exploded, and the skewer that formed impaled Rococo''s prisoner in one fell swoop.

    From groin to crown.

    The prisoner struggled, unable to even scream.

    He was nailed high up in the air, impaled on a metal skewer.

    mes began to crackle beneath him.

    Crackle!

    The skewer burns. In the blink of an eye, the camouge had burned Rococo''s captive to death.

    All the ves who saw it looked at it in fear.

    It was the same with the people of Morgue.

    Purr, purr, purr, purr, purr!

    The sound of someone being skewered and burned to a crisp.

    ck powder scattered in the wind along with the smell of burning meat.

    In front of that terrifying fire, the camel smiled nonchntly.

    "Let''s go."

    She grabbed Vikir from beside her and they were out of there in no time.

    Everyone around them could only stare after them with a faint sense of dread.

    * * *

    Meanwhile.

    Back behind the earthen wall, Vikir was a little surprised.

    Not that he was surprised to see a man skewered alive and burning.

    Vikir had spent decades rolling on the battlefields before his return, and had seen much worse.

    It was the expression on the camo''s face that startled Vikir.

    "...h, h, h!"

    The camel had gone to a ce where no one was around, and now it was crying.

    His face contorted, his eyes red, tears streaming down his chubby cheeks.

    Vikir''s mouth was half open in disbelief.

    Oh, my God, to see the weather goddess crying.

    Of course, she had seen it when she was eight years old, but it felt very different now that she was 15.

    ''But I''m still 15,'' I thought.

    After staring at the crying camel for a while, Vikir finally spoke up.

    "...Why are you crying?"

    "Why would I cry!"

    The camel screeched and looked around for anyone to hear.

    Vikir closed his mouth for a moment, then opened it again.

    "You must have been very close to your brother."

    "I was. She was very protective of me, an innocent, good child, not fit for Morg."

    After speaking, Camu squatted down against the earthen wall.

    They were about the same height, but somehow she seemed much smaller now.

    Vikir thought to himself.

    "Don''t be so sad, he must have gone in peace."

    When Vikir offered his awkward words offort, the camel snapped back.

    "Who do you think you are?"

    The question was a mixture of anger and sadness.

    Vikir noticed.

    The camel understood him.

    "I''m a genius. I can''t talk, so I can''t listen."

    "...."

    "Tell me straight. Tell me if I heard right."

    Vikir could only nod with a heavy expression at Camus'' words.

    Rococo''s captive''sst words hadn''t been "dead.

    "Eaten.

    The Rokoko are a tribe of shamans and cannibals.

    It is their custom to eat their captives.

    Hearing Vikir''s confirmation, Camu began to tear up again.

    "...I''m sorry. I''m sorry I couldn''t protect you. I''m sorry for you."

    Camu cried and cried.

    Vikir stood still beside her and remained silent.

    Surprised that Morg Camu, the queen of red and ck, of fire and skewers, would hide such a thing behind her mask.

    ...And after some time had passed.

    Camu rose from her seat.

    She dabbed at her cheeks with her sleeve, wiping away the dried tears.

    She returned to her original cold expression.

    She looked at Vikir, who stood off to the side.

    "That wasn''t so bad."

    "...?"

    "I would have killed him if he''d shown any flimsy sympathy."

    There was no way a lowly threat from a fifteen-year-old girl was going to have any effect on a hundred-year-old man who''d seen it all, but Vikir gave a grim nod anyway.

    ...Whatever.

    Sometimes it''sforting to just be there.

    Not knowing what to do with a 15-year-old girl who was crying, staying still had paid off this time.

    Next, Camu patted Vikir on the chest.

    "No time to mourn, boy. We need to recover and get revenge as soon as possible."

    "...."

    "Come with me. There''s something we need to do together."

    The camo sounded quite determined.

 Chapter 45: The Fiancée (3)

    <h4>Chapter 45: The Fianc��e (3)</h4>

    Seven years ago.

    There was an eight year old girl in the Morg family who was broken.

    Morg Camu.

    The youngest member of House Morg, a renowned mage family.

    Her extraordinary talents were evident from the earliest days.

    The young children of Morg gathered for a lesson in magic.

    "Now, the road to Magehood is hard. As you look into the abyss, the abyss looks into you. You must always be careful and cautious because if you look into the depths, you might be eaten by a giant demon."

    When the children heard the tutor''s words, each of them felt a vague sense of fear and terror.

    Only one. Camouge snorted.

    "Nonsense."

    The tutor furrows her brow.

    "Mr. Camouge, why do you say it''s nonsense?"

    "You said that when I look into the abyss, the abyss looks into me. That''s bullshit."

    Camouge gives you a stern look.

    "The Abyss of Mado is so wide and deep that no human mind canprehend it."

    "...."

    "Because I look into the abyss, the abyss looks into me? Nonsense. Just because an ant can see me doesn''t mean I can see the ant, and the abyss doesn''t know I''m looking into it, and it doesn''t care. It doesn''t care, so being afraid of the abyss looking into you is overly self-conscious."

    "...."

    "Well, maybe once you get to a certain level, but don''t instill fear in kids who can''t even handle their mana yet."

    At that, the tutor fell silent.

    The tutor''s jaw dropped.

    In all the years he''d been able to reach ss 5 and roll five mana circles, he''d never once fallen into the abyss of Mado.

    Unless, of course, you''re knocking on the door of ss 7, the ultimate in Mado.

    When the tedious lesson was over, the camel shook himself out of his seat and stood up.

    "What''s my uncle up to?"

    The only person in the family who understood his talent and whom he feltfortable confiding in.

    Camu favored her younger brother, Morg Adolf, even more than her mother, Morg Respane, the head of the household.

    Then.

    Camu overheard her mother, Respane, and her uncle, Adolf, talking in the parlor.

    "You say that a ruby vein runs underground on the Baskerville family estate?"

    "Yes, sister. It looks like a collision is inevitable."

    "That''s a big deal, Hugo, and I don''t want to have to bow down to that bastard... Plus, that''s where the barbarians are raging, so does that make it a three-way war?"

    "Well, for one thing, the lode runs into the Baskervilles'' territory, so we''re at a legal disadvantage. Also, your barbarians are a group that the Baskervilles have been struggling with for years, so a local conflict would be very damaging to the family in more ways than one...."

    Respane and Adolf looked grave.

    Then Camus stepped forward.

    "I''ll take a look."

    Lesparne and Adolf gasped in surprise.

    "Does he know what''s wrong with this...!"

    "Wait. Sister. Let''s hear what the kid has to say. He''s a genius, you know, and maybe he can point out something the grown-ups don''t see."

    This is why the camel likes his uncle Adolf.

    Respane and Adolf nodded in disbelief at what the camel was saying.

    "Hmmm. Let''s give it a try, shall we?"

    "After that, let''s solidify our cooperation and push for joint development? Hmm. Not a bad idea."

    It''s hard to believe they came from the mind of an 8-year-old.

    And then.

    "And wouldn''t it be great if we also discussed the issue of nepotism? I like the idea of inws going into business together, rather than just bowing out."

    A.k.a. the ''prenup strategy''. Camu had another good suggestion.

    Lespane''s eyes lit up and he asked.

    "You mean a pact with the Baskervilles? Who do you think we should send?"

    "Well, what about the triplets, Highsys, Middlesys, and Lowsys, who are useless to anyone?"

    Camu answered nonchntly, not giving it much thought.

    Morggar immediately begins to negotiate.

    Adolf took Camu with him to Baskerville, and Camu used his status as a child to talk to Hugo.

    He used his status as a child to speak to Hugo,paring the underground veins to his hands and forearms.

    But. for the first time in his life, Camo had to suffer a bitter defeat.

    ''That one''.

    From the opposing camp came an eight-year-old kid.

    I don''t know the logic behind it, but he was definitely outgunned.

    The camel was so angry that he started crying and almost lost his mind.

    I''ve never experienced anything like this in my life.

    No one else, not even his 8-year-old peers, not even teenagers, had ever done this to him.

    Not even adults.

    Everything in the world had always gone the way he wanted it to, and he had never been caught off guard.

    But that day was different.

    Everything had gone against Camu''s will.

    And the reason for this was the dark-haired boy she had met that day, ''the one''.

    "If it weren''t for you...!

    So the camel was furious. He wanted to show the first person he''d ever met his true colors.

    So he challenged him to a fight in the training grounds, where swords and magic shed.

    He fought with all his might.

    But the creature was cowardly and dodged the blows.

    ...Crackle! ...Crackle, crackle, crackle!

    He flicked his fingers at his forehead, as if he was just ying around.

    And it really hurt, too, as I kept getting hit.

    His face zoomed in for a close-up.

    I felt blinded by anger. You feel like it''s just you and him in the world.

    All I could think about was punching him in the face.

    ... Right then.

    Boom!

    There was an ident in the next room.

    There was a huge explosion and my clothes were burned to a crisp.

    I hastily tried to hide behind the dust and smoke, but it only saved me a few seconds of nakedness.

    It was only then that she became worried.

    There are tons of people here besides me and ''him''.

    What an embarrassment!

    Morg''s supernova, her genius, her next big thing, the person she respected and trusted, all in one moment, naked in front of everyone.

    Even eight-year-olds have their virginity. He has his pride.

    Camou fought desperately to keep the tears from falling.

    He was about to be stripped naked in front of all the kids his age who had always looked down on him.

    Especially when the sneaky sisters Highsis, Middlesis, and Lowsis were in the next room!

    I didn''t want to cry naked in front of them. They would make fun of me for the rest of my life.

    ''... But what can I do?

    But there was no way out of this situation.

    Soon the dust would settle and she would be theughing stock of the world.

    "I should die.

    Camu thought to himself.

    ... Just then.

    Flutter!

    His vision went ck.

    Something heavy but warm and cozy covered the camel''s naked body.

    She looked up and saw "him" right in front of her.

    He had removed his own clothes and covered her, leaving her naked.

    "Isn''t he ashamed?

    The camel thought so, but ''he'' didn''t seem to think so.

    He unted his nakedness for all to see. Without a trace of shame.

    The camel felt his heart pound in his chest as he stared at his naked body.

    The first time he''d ever seen his number, the first time he''d ever suffered a defeat, the first time he''d ever seen a confident demeanor, the first time he''d ever seen the naked body of someone his own age.

    So many firsts were jumbled together in Camu''s mind.

    For the first time in her life, her good hair stood on end, and so did the time that flowed around her.

    For what seemed like an eternity, she stared at him.

    Secretly thinking to herself that it was a good thing that she had brought out the ''marriage pact strategy'' before she left the n.

    And then, one after another.

    He was pitted against his uncle.

    The camel had always liked and followed his uncle, but for that moment, he thought he was being unfair.

    "He''s a grown man, and he''s persecuting a child.

    She had always been grateful to her uncle for treating her like an adult, but not as much as she was at this moment.

    What?

    ''The kid'' continued to challenge his uncle.

    An indomitable spirit that refused to back down in the face of such a stark disparity in skill.

    Camu felt mixed feelings.

    He knew of his uncle''s strength and greatness, but he couldn''t stop his gaze from drifting to....

    Inwardly, he was surprised that he was hoping for such a ridiculous situation, that ''that guy'' would defeat his uncle.

    And then.

    The fantasy became a reality.

    In a situation that even the strongest camo thought was hopeless, ''the one'' surprisingly overcame his uncle.

    chirp chirp chirp...

    A broken water jar, a stream of water, and a dazed uncle.

    The camo cheered at this shocking oue.

    It even jumped up and down in ce.

    Her uncle looked shocked and expressed his disappointment, but it was none of her business.

    She had always despised the frivolousughing and jumping of 8-year-olds her age, but before she knew it, she wasughing and jumping like a normal 8-year-old.

    After the negotiation went well.

    Arriving home, the camel went to bed.

    The stuffed animal she always hugged when she went to sleep, she decided to put it aside.

    "I''m not a child anymore."

    Instead, her usual cuddle had changed.

    Baskerville''s ck blood.

    The cloak that "he" had wrapped her in became her first love.

    Camu slept in it every night, always burying his face in it as he fell asleep.

    The smell of musty sweat was somehow thought to be a good thing, and I slept better with my nose buried in it.

    Sometimes my heart would suddenly thump in my chest, other times I would feel a tingling sensation all over my body, and other times I would nibble my cor with my teeth on a sudden impulse.

    When the nanny would suggest doing theundry, Camu would raise his hand and firmly stop her.

    "These things aren''t worth washing.

    After that, she never washed it.

    And so the seasons changed, and a few birthday cakes came and went, and the camel always thought the same thing.

    "Where would she be now, what would she be doing, and how tall would she be?

    And just like that, the little girl became ady.

    She went to the ruby mines all the time because she loved rubies, but she never saw ''him''.

    She had only heard rumors on the wind that he had gone on a long training run.

    And time passed.

    One day, Camu heard a rumor.

    There was a fairlyrge city on the edge of the Baskerville estate, adjacent to the Morg estate.

    It was rumored that a young deputy had been appointed there.

    Apparently, he caused several major idents upon his arrival.

    Of course, by idents, I don''t really mean idents, I mean mega-achievements.

    Upon hearing that he had burned 10 billion on a single stick, the camel pped his knee.

    "You''ve grown up.

    She made her way over to Gajusil.

    "What, you want me to send you on a joint operation with the Baskervilles?"

    "Yes, mom. Right now."

    Camouge pawed at her patriarch, Lespane, as they made their way to the Baskervilles'' estate.

    Before doing so, he made sure to identify the new deputy magistrate of Underdog City as his partner in the joint operation.

    And a day before the Baskervilles were due to arrive.

    Camo had made all the arrangements.

    The fort''s watchtower, with its many beautiful cotton blossoms, was chosen as the meeting ce.

    A little embarrassed, he kept Morg''s prying eyes as far back as possible.

    There, among the white flowers and their delicate scent, the seven-year wait would end.

    The camel went to bed with a puffed-up chest.

    ...And that day.

    The camel was furious.

    He had picked an atmospheric spot, but it was already in shambles.

    His sisters, who had been so disrespectful when he was younger, and who now dared not even breathe in his presence when he was older, had ruined it.

    "What the ... do you think you''re doing?"

    Camu asked with infernal fury.

    The aftermath of Romantic''s destruction was horrifying.

    Morg''s three sisters sobbed, unable to speak English.

    "Kaa, Camu, my sisters are..."

    "Woohoo, we just wanted to keep the intruders out...."

    "Well, they started the fight!"

    But Camu''s mood was already low.

    The reunion he''d been waiting seven years for had been ruined.

    "Camo, are you talking to me, sisters?"

    "Hic! No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!"

    "Get out of the way. If you don''t want to be like that."

    The camel didn''t really intend to kill the three sisters, but he did intend to spank them really badly.

    But he didn''t have to, because they scurried away on their own.

    Then.

    Camou reined in his horse and stood in front of ''him''.

    "Wee, partner."

    Seeing him again after seven years, he didn''t look much different than when they first met.

    He wasn''t much taller than her, as if he was still growing, but his face had changed slightly.

    His jawline was more defined, and his nose was more prominent.

    It was better than the version that had been glorified and beautified in Camu''s imagination.

    ''You''ve grown a lot. Mmm. You''ve grown.

    The camel nodded. His face flushed red of its own ord.

    Why did the naked body under the blood wind of the eight-year-old suddenly appear in his mind?

    "...Mo, has your body changed a lot?

    It was a camouge that didn''t use any magic, but it was unnecessarily hot.

 Chapter 46: The Husband Hunt (1)

    <h4>Chapter 46: The Husband Hunt (1)</h4>

    "So this is what we''re supposed to do together?

    Vikir looked down, frowning.

    In front of him, the camel cupped his chin in his hands and grinned broadly.

    In front of him now was a steaming pile of bread, potatoes, boiled meat, and vegetables.

    "You need to eat to stay strong. Here, eat."

    Vikir pressed a hand to his forehead as the camouge man practically shoved food at him.

    They had been in the fort for over ten days now.

    In that time, the camo had gotten over the grief of his brother''s death.

    But the way he''d gotten over it was causing Vikir quite a headache, ... because he''d beening to the door of his quarters every day, demanding to eat with him.

    Six times a day!

    "...What kind of meals do you eat six times a day?"

    "It''s healthy to eat small and often."

    "I tend to binge eat one meal a day. Maybe I should skip the next meal."

    "Uh-huh. Don''t you know that starvation leads to loss ofbat power? It''s against militaryw."

    "Then you''re not really eating."

    At Vikir''s point, the camo frowned and averted his gaze.

    He shoves a bit of sd into his mouth and grunts.

    "I get full just watching you eat."

    "...."

    Vikir chewed her meat and frowned.

    He couldn''t figure out why a 15-year-old girl from another family he hadn''t seen in seven years was being so hard on him.

    "Is she trying to arrange a marriage?

    Before his regression, Camus had discussed strategic marriage with a number of prospects, but none of them had actually gotten married.

    It would be troubling if he had chosen himself as a candidate for an arranged marriage.

    "I''m leaving Baskerville.

    If you leave, I will destroy you.

    What has been your reward for doing all the dirty work in the house?

    You must repay me for all the foul and disgusting sensations of that moment when you stood on the gallows waiting for Guillotine.

    So it''s better not to get involved with Morg''s women.

    Thest thing I need is a scandal or a love triangleter on.

    This was true not only of Camu, but of any woman in the world.

    Unaware of Vikir''s thoughts, the camel still looks innocent and asks.

    "Is there poop in the meat?"

    "...?"

    "You look like you chewed shit."

    Hearing the camel''s words, Vikir blinked a few times with a nonchnt expression before picking up his fork and eating again.

    All the while, she never looked up.

    Meanwhile.

    Vikir''s cold demeanor was a breath of fresh air for Camu.

    Usually, when she asks to join her for a meal, everyone is happy to oblige, men and women, young and old.

    Especially men outside the n, whose faces were already lit up with anticipation before they even sat down to eat.

    It was only natural.

    Camus was young, brilliant, beautiful, and a future ruler.

    But Vikir''s 15 years ofmon sense and experience had been thoroughly discredited.

    "I think we should eat separately from now on."

    "What? Why?"

    "It''s ufortable."

    Vikir said, mming his fork down.

    At that, Camu nodded as if he could agree.

    He was right, the cafeteria where Vikir ate was almost exclusively filled with women.

    Women receiving their meals, women serving them. Hardly a man in sight.

    Camu chuckled.

    "s, what can I say. Morg is a matriarchal society, so most of the fighters are women, and the men do most of the cooking in the kitchen back there."

    It''s not like the Baskervilles, an extreme macho society.

    Just as males have a slight advantage when ites to swordsmanship, females have a slight advantage when ites to magic, so naturally Morg''s army is made up mostly of women.

    Instead, the men are in charge of supply in the rear, a job that is actually just as important asbat.

    "My uncle, who is in charge of supply, is currently ill with chest pains, so we don''t have many supplies. Eat up, though."

    Camu ignored Vikir''s offer to eat separately.

    Instead, he scooped some boiled potatoes onto Vikir''s te and slyly changed the subject.

    "You don''t have this in your house, do you?"

    The potatoes were the object of Camu''s shrug.

    It was a super potato that had been modified by Morg''s nt-based magic, making it far more nutritious and faster to absorb than a normal potato.

    The downside was that they were so nutritious that theycked vor.

    Camou chewed on the fluffy potato and said.

    "The only w in the nutritional improvement is theck of taste, but it''s still better than the haggis you eat back home, right?"

    Vikir looked away from the potato and picked up his fork.

    Apparently, it''s hard to shoo away a camel that''s been looming over you for a while.

    This was Morg''s territory, and she was in charge.

    Vikir decided to go along with the camel''s change of subject for now.

    "It''s not bad."

    "...?"

    Camu repeated.

    Vikir picked up Morg''s potatoes with a serious look on her face.

    "They''re not bad. It''s just that you guys cook them badly."

    "Eh? I''m sorry, but the cook in this fortress used to be a chef in the Imperial City, and I have a picky pte, so he''s specially brought in. If it''s cooked by him and it doesn''t taste good, it''s not there."

    Vikir shook his head at that.

    "Well, with the ... supply disruption, we''ll have to eat this for a while anyway.

    Vikir picked up the potatoes, stood up, and headed to the kitchen.

    Using a knife, Vikir cut the potatoes into small pieces and lightly rolled them in salt and vinegar.

    Then, she added the dried leaves of the mentrake and the juice of the sabik tree to the pot with the potatoes and started steaming.

    The chef in the kitchen saw Vikir and came over in surprise.

    "Hey, what are you doing...."

    But the chef is interrupted by a camel that has just entered the kitchen.

    "...."

    She''s watching Vikir''s handiwork closely.

    Next, Vikir holds a lightly steamed potato in front of the chef.

    "This will remove the earthy vor and bring out the sugar, and the texture will be as crisp as a regr potato."

    The chefs in the kitchen let out a collective gasp.

    "Wow, there''s a way to prepare these potatoes like this?"

    "It''s amazing, it''s a new breed, how?"

    "It''s true, it doesn''t have an earthy vor, and the texture is just like a regr potato."

    The chefs immediately put Vikir''s simple recipe into practice.

    The Morg warriors were also delighted with the change in vor of the potatoes in their rations.

    So did Staffordshire and the Highbrow, Middlebrow, and Lowbrow triplets who ate among the Morg.

    "Master, how did you know how to eat those potatoes? Apparently the Morg didn''t either."

    Staffordshire asked, his eyes wide.

    Vikir merely looks away, unable to answer.

    For now, this Morg''s potatoes are new to the market.

    In a few decades, it will be a battlefield staple.

    In the Age of Doom, when all supplies were scarce, warriors in the war against demons developed ways to make their limited food supplies as ptable as possible during their countless days in the wilderness.

    Mercenaries who had been through the wringer had learned to squeeze everyst drop of vor out of the simplest of ingredients, such as those who figured out how to take the astringency and earthy smell out of the potato.

    Vikir, too, had been in many battles and was naturally familiar with many survivalist dishes.

    Many of them were learned while being poisoned or maimed, and some of them were truly eye-opening delicacies.

    Meanwhile.

    "...!"

    The camel''s eyes widened as he tasted the newly prepared potatoes.

    "Hey. Do you want toe over and cook?"

    "...."

    "Yeah, yeah, yeah. I''ll just take you in."

    Vikir sighed lightly.

    The camo still had a twinkle in her eye, though.

    "Speaking of which, when do you get into the academy? I''ll match you. I''m probably getting an early entry by a year or two. It would be so much fun if we could be first years together...."

    Just then.

    "...!"

    The yful camel''s eyes immediately changed color.

    She stops talking and closes her mouth.

    And then.

    "...."

    Vikir''s mouth fell open as well.

    The air outside the window changed in an instant.

    They both felt it at the same time. A sense of foreboding that the others hadn''t yet felt.

    And then.

    Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle.

    A loud bell began to ring outside the window.

    It was the signal for a barbarian attack.

 Chapter 47: The Husband Hunt (2)

    <h4>Chapter 47: The Husband Hunt (2)</h4>

    Ping!

    The sound of a hole in the air.

    An arrow flew through the air with a crash and stuck in the dirt wall.

    Boom!

    The hard baked earth wall exploded with a loud bang, leaving a huge hole.

    A soldier who was taking cover behind it was instantly killed by the arrow.

    "????? ??????"

    "????? ?? ??????? ????"

    "???? ????"

    Booming voices echo from the edge of the jungle.

    Bk. A tribe of brown-skinned savages.

    They had swords and bows in their hands and were attacking Morg''s fortress.

    Ping-.

    An arrow flies, and a soldier is sent tumbling down the ramparts.

    In the blink of an eye, Bk''s barbarian warriors overturned all the skirmishers and scrambled up the ramparts.

    Boom, boom, boom!

    They set fire to the cotton fields below the walls and dragged the barbarian ves with them.

    Thump, thump, thump!

    The barking of dogs everywhere.

    The Barbarians of Bk rode their great wolves in groups of two or three, and in their hands they carried nooses of strong rope.

    These were thrown into the air, and a ve, always a woman, a man, and a child, was taken alive.

    It was like a hunt.

    The surprise was so swift that the fortress was in an uproar.

    mes were everywhere, soldiers were dying, and many ves were being dragged alive.

    And in the midst of it all, Vikir descended.

    Some of the barbarian women''s eyes lit up when they saw him.

    "???? ????"

    "?? ?? ???"

    "???? ????? ???? ???????"

    They tossed the nooses into the air, swung them up, and hurled them at Vikir''s throat in unison.

    And with that.

    Tut-tut-tut.

    The three-strand rope noose snaps around Vikir''s neck.

    The barbarian warriors kicked at the mounted wolf''s loins, driving it like a horse.

    But.

    ...Crack!

    The wolf was forced to stop running.

    Vikir was standing there, unmoving.

    Thud.

    The rope noose tightened around his neck, but Vikir didn''t budge.

    Next, Vikir twisted the noose with his hands and gave it a firm squeeze.

    Quack, quack, quack!

    The wolf and the three barbarian female warriors sprawled across the floor.

    The faces of the barbarian men around them twisted.

    They shouted something and pointed their bows at Vikir.

    Beep, beep, beep.

    Arrows of incredible speed. In unison, they lunged for Vikir.

    But Vikir''s hand was much faster.

    ...Whoosh!

    Vikir quickly drew his longsword and imbued it with an aura.

    The liquid aura of the Gradient symbolized a single point on the tip of the de.

    Papapapap!

    Vikir drew a figure of eight with the tip of his de, slicing all the flying arrows in half.

    The barbarians shrank back in horror at the sight of Vikir''s aura.

    They couldn''t help but notice. This maniptive power could only be seen by those who touched some singrity.

    Vikir squinted, taking in the group of Bk before him.

    Brown skin. Hair of varying shades of silver, gray, and ck.

    Faces painted ck, cors with thorns around their necks, riding on the backs ofrge wolves and using bows as their primary weapons.

    "Just like I remembered before the regression.

    I''ve faced Bk''s warriors many times before.

    They are not only belligerent, but each warrior is highly skilled.

    It is fortunate that this is a in with a fortress, for if we turned against them in the middle of a dark jungle, we would have had a hard time.

    ''Before we set out, Hugo assured me that we were not to engage until we were joined by the main body.''

    This was Baskerville territory, but it was leased to Morg, so Vikir had no reason to risk his life in dispute with them.

    "...."

    "...."

    Vikir pressed the barbarian warriors with just the right amount of momentum, and they didn''t hesitate to charge at him.

    They had seen the ghostly swordsmanship Vikir had disyed just moments before.

    Then.

    ...Boom!

    There was a loud explosion, followed by searing mes.

    An earthen wall copsed, and a girl stepped out from behind it.

    The one who would one day be called an enemy and the Queen of ck.

    Morg Camu, she red at the barbarian warriors of Bk with bloodshot eyes.

    "Die!"

    Camu crossed her hands.

    Quadra-casting, four offensive spells manifested and began to shake the battlefield upside down.

    Powerful sts of fire and wind, steel and rock, drove firestorms and rock showers.

    Bk''s barbarian warriors were biting the wolves back, signaling loudly among themselves.

    Perhaps it was time to retreat.

    Camu kept the invaders at bay, but nced back at Vikir.

    Her gaze was drawn to the few drops of ck liquid on the tip of Vikir''s de.

    "You were a Gradient? That''s amazing."

    Camu was genuinely impressed.

    What kind of mastery was a Gradient?

    An exalted realm that ordinary people couldn''t reach even after a lifetime of training.

    Even the people of Baskerville, who were said to be swordsmanship geniuses, could only reach it by the time they were thirty.

    "I see. You are the only man I can recognize."

    Camou smirked and stepped up to Vikir''s side.

    She had taken a defensive stance, as if she thought Vikir was tired of projecting his aura.

    "Stay back, it''s dangerous."

    Stepping in front of Vikir, the camo created a wall of steel and rock while summoning icicles of fire and ice to pound the field.

    Three circles of magic, even a quadruple cast.

    Truly a Morgue genius, a talent worthy of a kick in the ass at age 15.

    "I will avenge my brother''s death!"

    Camu summoned all the mana in his body and hurled it at the barbarians.

    But.

    The battlefield is a ce where even the most genius of talents can''t let their guard down.

    ...Pow!

    Camou frowned at the stinging sensation at the nape of his neck.

    "An arrow?

    But if it was an arrow, he would be dead before he had a chance to think about it.

    He reached up and pulled the thing out of his nape.

    Something so small and thin it could have slipped through the shields floating in the air.

    It was a cactus needle.

    PING-

    Camu felt his head spin.

    The thorns must have beenced with paralyzing poison.

    "????! ??? ???? ?????!"

    I see one of the barbarian warriors pointing at the camel and jumping up and down with glee.

    Apparently, he was the one who shot the tranquilizer needle.

    And now.

    Whirly-lic-

    The barbarian warrior threw thesso he was holding at the camel.

    It looks like he intends to capture the camel alive.

    But.

    Jaws-

    Thesso was intercepted halfway.

    Vikir reached out and caught thesso halfway.

    Kukuk...

    The barbarian warrior and Vikir began to struggle.

    The other man tugged at the noose with all his might, but the already superhuman Vikir was no match for his strength.

    Boom!

    The barbarian warrior was thrown off the wolf''s back and sprawled on the ground.

    "That''s at least a half-wit.

    Vikir shook his head as he watched the Bk warrior roll around on his back.

    Vikir looked back at Camu.

    "I think we should retreat from here."

    "What? But the farnds and the prisoners?"

    "It would be better to refrain from engaging them until we have rejoined the main body of the Baskervilles."

    The camo looked conflicted.

    Rationally, it would be better to back off moderately here.

    But.

    She had just lost her beloved half-brother, and in the heat of the moment, her emotions got the better of her judgment.

    He was taken alive by a savage tribe. He must have suffered terrible pain and terror until the moment of his death.

    The image of her brother shed through her mind, and her fists tightened.

    Just then.

    PING-!

    A sharp piercing sound came from somewhere.

    Vikir instinctively jerked his head back.

    An arrow whizzes past the nape of his neck, sending him flying into the city wall.

    Boom!

    The blow was strong enough to pierce the ear of the rampart.

    "...!"

    Vikir jerked his head back.

    A lone female warrior stared back at him, perched on the back of arge wolf.

    ck hair mingled with silver, tipped with triangr ears, and a face smeared with ash.

    She threw hersso right at Vikir, as if she knew he would dodge it.

    The snake-likesso swooped down, aiming for Vikir''s throat at an exquisite angle.

    "...."

    Vikir didn''t react, instead calmly reaching for his sword.

    The ck aura that symbolized the Baskervilles drew four teeth in the air.

    The noose snapped in half in midair.

    Just then.

    "Danger!"

    There was a hand on Vikir''s back.

    He turned his head to see a camouge of stiffened bodies pushing against Vikir''s back.

    And behind him, the barbarian man who had fallen off the wolf''s back earlier, tugging at the noose through clenched teeth.

    I thought he''d be a half-wit, but he''s stronger than I thought.

    The noose was wrapped tightly around the camel''s waist, and the barbarian took off running with the paralyzing poison.

    ''...So this is what happens.''

    Vikir sighed softly.

    A momentarypse in judgment is costly.

    Morg''s next patriarch would learn this the hard way.

    "Even in her original history, she was kidnapped by barbarian tribes once.

    Even before the regression.

    As a young man, Camouge was captured as a prisoner of war and taken away as a hostage.

    Of course, it wasn''t long before she returned home, ughtering barbarian tribes.

    It was during this time that she became known as the Queen of Enemies and ck.

    "But I still have to do my job.

    Even though it''s not Baskerville''s business, Vikir has formed a strategic alliance with Morg.

    Vikir quickly unleashes her aura.

    Ka-ang!

    The silver-haired female warrior''s weapon blocked Vikir''s path.

    "...bow?

    Vikir''s eyes narrowed as he realized the identity of the thing blocking his sword.

    The Bk female warrior in front of him had swung her bow with its full length, blocking Vikir''s de.

    Then.

    Vikir locked eyes with the woman before him.

    A strange sense of disquiet washed over him.

    "You look familiar.

    Just as Vikir was about to rummage through his memory.

    The warrior spoke up.

    "You said you''d see ... again, didn''t you?"

    She spoke in broken Imperial.

 Chapter 48: The Husband Hunt (3)

    <h4>Chapter 48: The Husband Hunt (3)</h4>

    Vikir thought.

    "She looks familiar.

    The woman before him must have seen him before.

    ... But she didn''t have long to think about it.

    Pfft.

    The next moment, the warrior''s long legs flew out and kicked Vikir in the stomach.

    A tingling sensation down his spine, an unbelievable weight.

    There was no way she could have pulled off such a move without using her aura.

    Vikir somersaulted a couple of times in the air beforending on his feet.

    "Mastery.

    The barbarian warrior before him was no ordinary bet.

    With the charcoal ck paint on her face, it was impossible to make out her features, but she looked to be in herte teens, early twenties at least.

    It would be difficult to fight her while hiding her skills.

    Vikir lowered his stance and was about to prepare to fight.

    The female warrior''s mouth opened.

    "You said we''d see each other again, didn''t you?"

    She spoke in broken Imperial.

    Vikir suddenly remembered where he had seen this barbarian warrior before.

    The girl who had once been kept in a cage like a beast during a raid on an illegal ve auction in Underdog City.

    She was destined to be turned into flesh by perverted nobles.

    Vikir had helped her escape by turning the auction house upside down and opening the cage door.

    He even gave her a potion.

    "You return the favor."

    The barbarian girl shook her head at Vikir''s scowl.

    "Me. A ve, avenging my capture. Morg. Nothing to do with you."

    Apparently, House Morg had something to do with this barbarian girl''s captivity by the vers.

    Not surprising, since the Morg have been at odds with the barbarians over the development of their ruby mines.

    Perhaps thistest raid was in retaliation for the barbarian girl''s capture by the vers and her subsequent treatment.

    Vikir narrowed his eyes.

    "That said, she''s a pretty high ranking girl.

    And then. The barbarian girl jerked her chin at the wolf in the distance.

    The wolf had assoed camel tied around its waist.

    "For what you''ve done. We pay him back. We. The woman. The next leader. We take them."

    Bk and Morg faced off. The girl swung her bow, knocking the wolves around her back.

    The signal to retreat.

    All of Bk''s warriors began to fall back in unison. As if their purpose was over with the capture of the camouge.

    The barbarian girl looked slightly troubled, then turned to Vikir.

    "If you want your girl back, follow me."

    "...Do you speak Imperial?"

    Vikir continued to speak to her, hoping to gather some more clues, to buy a little time.

    But that was it.

    As soon as the words were out of her mouth, the barbarian girl turned and disappeared into the jungle.

    Vikir was about to give chase.

    Beep, beep, beep.

    It was impossible because of the countless showers of arrows falling down.

    ''Should I reveal my ...power?

    If he unleashed all of his hidden power, he might be able to break through that rain of arrows.

    But.

    "Camo!"

    That was impossible, as Adolf, leading his soldiers, charged into the battlefield.

    Vikir took a few steps back to avoid the arrows.

    With so many eyes on him, he couldn''t afford to show his strength.

    "Give me my nephew!"

    Enraged, Adolf cast a great spell, turning the earth upside down.

    But Bk''s warriors were fast and skilled.

    The vanguard easily sidestepped Adolf''s magic and disappeared over the water, while theggards scattered in countless directions to confuse the pursuit.

    In the end, Bk''s raiders fled into the jungle, most of them, leaving only a few casualties behind.

    "This, this nonsense...!"

    Adolf stood dumbfounded.

    So did the mages who had brought reinforcements.

    It took less than three minutes for the Morgans to respond to the emergency signal announcing the invasion, but the Bk assault was so methodical and swift that it would have been all over in that time.

    The raiders were well organized and caught the inexperienced camo off guard.

    ves and crops would have been one thing, but the kidnapping of the next head of the family was a big deal.

    "How can this be good!"

    Adolf stamped his foot as he watched the sun set over the water.

    The waters of the Red and ck Mountains were terrifying, but they became even more dangerous after dark.

    Entering the waters at night was suicide, and even the wizards of Morgoth were not easily pursued.

    One wrong move could mean annihtion.

    ... Just then.

    "We can still catch up."

    Vikir stepped forward.

    He gazed into the depths of the water.

    "I''ve been in there when I was a kid."

    A lie, of course. He''d only been in there once, briefly, when he was eight years old.

    But Vikir had searched, scouted, and ughtered countless times before his return, and he knew most of the geography underwater.

    Meanwhile, the wizards of Morg were dumbfounded by Vikir''s words.

    One wizard raised his eyebrows and spoke up.

    "Entering the ck Mountains with a dark enemy is suicide...."

    But he didn''t finish his sentence.

    "Those who won''t go, go. I will not trouble youter."

    Morg Adolf, his eyes bloodshot, stood before Vikir.

    He had recognized Vikir''s extraordinary abilities.

    With that, Adolph bent down at the waist to be eye level with Vikir.

    ...Boom!

    Adolf squeezed Vikir''s hand with both of his hands, and he said desperately.

    "Please, I beg you. Help me save my niece."

    Vikir nodded.

    The raiders from earlier had obviously thrown their nooses at him, and it was the camel who had returned the favor.

    A debt must be paid, and without another word, Vikir turned and walked into the tangled jungle of roots.

    "Maybe this is my chance to get out from under Hugo''s control.

    They say a crisis is an opportunity, and Vikir thought he might be able to use this to his advantage.

    Dusk fell.

    The earth spider was losing.

    * * *

    The watery terrain between the enemy and the ck Mountains is littered with all manner of fiends, poisonous nts, and traps.

    Bone-sucking mosquitoes, venomous thorns, spiders that walk without making a sound, narrow, deep cliffs between rocks hidden by fallen leaves.

    A normal person wouldn''t be able to survive even a few hours in these waters, and the situation isn''t much different for beings who have reached the pinnacle of nothingness.

    What''s more, the nights are so deep and dark that even barbarians are reluctant to pass through them.

    All sorts of dangerous things are awakened from their daytime slumber.

    So it''s no wonder that even the bravest of Morg''s warriors wouldn''t dare venture into the murky waters.

    ...But.

    In the jungle, among all these potential killers, there was a being who seemed to be weaving in and out of them with incredible speed.

    Vikir. Vikir van Baskerville.

    He burned des of grass to scare away poisonous insects, crossed cliffs hidden beneath dirt and fallen leaves, and rubbed animal feces on his clothes to hide his scent and creep.

    All in a series of extremely skillful movements.

    The Morg and Baskervilles who followed could only hold their tongues.

    "Are all ... Baskerville boys like that?"

    "Of course not, you''re a special case."

    Staffordshire shrugged at Adolph''s quizzical look.

    But Vikir, who is actually leading the way, is nonchnt.

    "It was a universal tracking technique in the Age of Destruction.

    Swordsmen of that era weren''t just good at swordfighting.

    There was nothing they couldn''t do: foraging, scouting, searching, hiding, ambushing, assassinating, pharmaceutical, healing, and cooking.

    It was a time of survival.

    SPOT!

    Vikir halved a rotting log in his path and stepped through it.

    The aura of the Gradient, vibrating and spinning at lightning speed at the tip of his de, sliced through everything in an instant.

    Everyone was truly in awe of Vikir''s ability to find and remove obstacles, bothrge and small, single-handedly.

    Especially the Baskervilles'' triplets, who followed closely behind him.

    "Cool."

    "Cool."

    "Delicious."

    The third one stuttered a bit after his finger was cut off and reattached, but they were all on the same page.

    Then.

    ...Stop!

    Vikir, who had been walking ahead, halted.

    Looking at the bare footprints in the damp mud, Vikir checked the direction of the wind, then ducked low and circled behind a bush.

    To hide his scent.

    The warriors of Morg and Baskerville followed Vikir back behind the bushes.

    Then they saw a faint glimmer of light.

    Bk''s hunters were gathered around a small campfire.

    Rustle �C ding �C ding �C ding

    In the forest at night, even the smallest sounds of human movement can be as loud as thunder.

    Furthermore, the Bk hunters had scattered dry leaves and sticks around their makeshift campsite.

    They had scattered them around their makeshift camp so that they would be heard.

    Vikir pondered for a moment how to muffle the sound as they approached.

    Then.

    "...Silence."

    Adolph chanted the words with a terse syble.

    Instantly, a translucent aura enveloped everyone''s feet.

    Then, to my surprise, there was no sound as they walked.

    This is magic, and Adolf''s magic specializes in support.

    Vikir had once been an assassin himself, and he knew what a ridiculously deceptive perk it was to be silent when approaching a target.

    Soon, the pursuers were close to their target.

    "?? ?????? ?? ????"

    "????? ?? ???? ?????? ???? ??? ??."

    "??? ???? ???? ????? ???? ???"

    The hunters rested, unaware that they had be the hunted.

    Vikir picked out his targets by the faint light of the remaining fire.

    Up ahead, he saw the barbarian girl who had parried his sword and kicked him earlier.

    She was barking out orders as if she were the leader of the group.

    The barbarian man who had shot the tranquilizer needle and thrown thesso earlier grumbles as he follows her instructions.

    And so on and so forth, until, in the center of the gathering of Bk''s barbarian warriors, the final target was located.

    Morg Camu.

    She could be seen kneeling, naked.

    Her hands and feet are tied to stakes driven into the ground behind her, and a cor is around her neck.

    The good news is that there are no signs of beatings or other abuse.

    The camel was cursing something at the barbarians and didn''t seem particrly fazed.

    Vikir let out a small sigh.

    "No wonder he''s naked every time I see him.

    Just then.

    ...Jaw!

    Someone touched Vikir''s shoulder.

    He turned to see Morg Adolf standing there.

    Immediately, he spoke, hisplexion and voice hardened.

    "I will never forget this favor, nephew."

    The title ... seemed a little odd, but now was not the time to point it out.

    No 2 of the Mado Sect.

    It looks like Mado Star Adolph is about to reveal his true power.

 Chapter 49: The Husband Hunt (4)

    <h4>Chapter 49: The Husband Hunt (4)</h4>

    The dark forest was eerily silent.

    The silent forest was eerily dark.

    The sky was like a handful of coarse salt scattered across a ck carpet, but not a single ray of its countless stars could prate the dense canopy of vines, roots, and leaves to reach the bottom of this watery mess.

    Not a single grasshopper whined around him.

    Crackle, crackle, crackle.

    The eerie sound of faint embers gnawing at the firewood.

    "...."

    Morg Camus. She was bound and gagged, ring at the barbarians of Bk.

    With her powers of observation and memorization, she had been able to pick up some of the names and ranks of her attackers while being dragged here.

    Beyond the faint warmth and light of the campfire, she could see the silhouettes of the barbarians.

    The supposed leader is a girl of about seventeen.

    Her name is Aiyen.

    Her hair is a mix of silver and ck, her ears are pointed and triangr, and her face is charcoal-ck.

    But one thing is for sure: she''s good.

    She was powerful enough to hold off Vikir, a lowly Gradient.

    Beside her, a man grumbled as he added wood to the fire.

    The man who had shot himself with the tranquilizer needle was named Ahun, and his back was still aching from Vikir''s attack earlier.

    The other women and men were also there, most of them around 17 or 18 years old.

    They had not made arge bonfire, but had thrown ashes on top of the fire to make a gentle roaring fire, and were sitting around it in a circle.

    "I didn''t catch the husband feeling."

    "I liked that girl I met earlier."

    "Maybe we''ll catch him again someday."

    The three women warriors chattered amongst themselves.

    Camu could hear, if not speak, the barbariannguage, so he could get a sense of what was going on in their conversation.

    The savages of Bk always go on "husband hunts," "saxi hunts," "son-inw hunts," and "daughter-inw hunts" around this time of year.

    The targets are other tribes and sometimes even empire borders.

    The reason for this practice of finding spouses in different areas is simple. To avoid gic diseases caused by inbreeding and to bring in fresh blood from outside.

    This is why most warriors who go out to find a mate want a superior seed.

    Once they''ve kidnapped the right person, if they''re good enough, they''ll start making children, and if they''re not, they''ll enve or kill them.

    They especially wee women, because women are more important than men when ites to calling the poption.

    Is that why? The savage boy, who goes by the name Ahun, has been staring at the camel for a while now and smiling wickedly.

    "The men of the tribe must be happy, having captured such a fine female."

    Understanding Ahun''s words, Camu gritted his teeth.

    "You want me to take the seed of your barbarians? I''ll die for that!"

    Camu immediately tried to bite her tongue, but Ahun was quicker to gag her.

    Ahun chuckled and stuck an arrowhead under Camu''s chin.

    "Perhaps this cheeky ve needs an education."

    He was just about to touch the camel''s body.

    ...Jaw!

    Someone stepped in front of Ahun.

    Aiyen. A female warrior leading a young Bk hunting party.

    She pressed the nock of her bow to Ahun''s sternum.

    "Get out."

    Aiyen''s words were short.

    Ahun''s brow furrowed.

    "What the hell, boss. I got him."

    "Bullshit. Just a little less."

    "What do you mean, I shot the tranquilizer needle andssoed him!"

    "Who did that for you?"

    Ai Yan asked coldly, leaving Ah Hoon speechless for a moment.

    She continued.

    "You would have been dead if I hadn''t interrupted that ''boy with the sword'' earlier."

    She is referring to Vikir.

    Ahun began to tremble as Aiyen mentioned the situation earlier.

    He cried out in frustration.

    "So, you''re saying that this female belongs to you?"

    "Of course."

    "The boss is a woman!"

    "What does it matter?"

    At Ai Yan''s retort, Ah Hoon fell silent, as if he were speechless.

    Then, frosty blue flesh began to erupt from Ai Yan''s entire body.

    A silvery aura emanated from the bow she was clutching.

    Upon seeing it, the camel''s eyes widened.

    That was the liquid aura, the symbol of the Gradient.

    Although it was faint, it clearly revealed the prowess of a lower-ranked Graduator.

    A 17-year-old grader. There were geniuses like that in the world besides Vikir and himself.

    Whether Camu was surprised or not, Aiyen didn''t seem to mind at all.

    Ahun, meanwhile, bowed low before Aiyen''s power.

    "Come at me whenever you want. I''ll beat you to a bloody pulp."

    "...an kouwa."

    "No?"

    "...No. Whatever. I give up. She''s yours."

    Ahun shook his head, a mixture of anger and bitterness.

    Aiyen tore her gaze away from Ahun and looked back at Camu.

    He didn''t particrly feel that she had saved him.

    Neither did he.

    "Good eyes, good constitution. You must have good blood."

    Aiyen looked at the camel with the eyes of a thorough merchant.

    "I, too, was once captured and sold into very by your empire, especially the Morg."

    "...."

    "And so it will be with you."

    After speaking, Aiyen closes his eyes for a moment, seemingly remembering someone.

    "Only, you will not be as fortunate as I was."

    Opening his eyes, Aiyen grits his teeth and stares into Camu''s eyes.

    "I will take my time, slowly, bone by bone, soul by soul. I will make it a daily routine for you to lick your tongue between my toes...."

    But Ai Yan was unable to finish her sentence.

    ...Quack!

    A loud explosion erupted from the bushes behind them.

    "Die, beastly savages."

    The voice sounded like a death sentence.

    At the same time, ice picks flew out, piercing through Bk''s hunting birds.

    In less than a second, three or four of the hunters in the rear were dead.

    Behind them was Morg Adolf, a reddish mana stalk.

    Soon, Morg and Baskerville''s pursuers were on the battlefield.

    "I''ll repay your debt."

    Baskerville of Staffordshire and the triplets of the Baskerville family shed at several Bk hunters with their swords.

    Morg''s wizards were desperate.

    Numerous offensive spells were flying, creating a ze of light and sound.

    ...?

    Somehow, the Bk hunters were unable to respond.

    Despite the vast disparity in power, if they focused on nning and fleeing rather than fighting back, they should be able to minimize the damage.

    But why?

    Bk''s hunting party, and the wolves they ride, are greatly perplexed and restless.

    It was as if they were more worried about Morg and Baskerville''s surprise than they were about the lights and sounds they were creating.

    "Ugh! These lunatics are making such a ruckus in the waters of the night!"

    Ahun jumped back in surprise.

    His uneasy gaze was fixed not on the swords and magic raging around him, but on the darkness of the water beyond.

    It was the same for their leader, Aiyen.

    "...."

    Aiyen moved quickly.

    The first thing she did was not to respond to Morg''s magic or Baskerville''s sword, but to kick up sand to extinguish the campfire.

    Once the faint glow was gone, Bk''s hunting birds made their move.

    They mounted the wolves'' backs, firing arrows as they retreated deeper into the water.

    "They''re fleeing. Don''t leave a single one alive!"

    Staffordshire shouted to the Baskervilles'' hounds, spurring them on in pursuit.

    And through the infernal darkness, a shadow approached the camo.

    Vikir. In a sh, he cut the rope and noose from the stake and freed the camel.

    The camel, still paralyzed by the paralyzing poison, recognized Vikir''s face.

    "It''s ...! It''s you!"

    "Shhh."

    In the blink of an eye, Vikir had the camel in his arms and was falling backwards.

    No. He tried to pull away.

    If it weren''t for the silver shadow that appeared out of nowhere.

    "I knew you''de, ''boy with the sword''."

    Aiyen was facing Vikir squarely.

    Her eyes scanned Vikir''s entire body as she spoke.

    "A strong body to cover such a distance in such a short time."

    "...."

    "A strong mind to see through the darkness of the water."

    "...."

    "The hot innocence to risk his life to save the woman he loves."

    "...?"

    Vikir frowned.

    Why did he have to listen to this barbarian woman''s assessment of him right now?

    Vikir was just about to dodge past her to the rear.

    Aiyen points a finger at the camel in Vikir''s arms.

    "I will not ask about the past."

    The corners of her mouth curved in a gentle arc.

    "Pass."

 Chapter 50: The Husband Hunt (5)

    <h4>Chapter 50: The Husband Hunt (5)</h4>

    Vikir wrinkled the bridge of his nose.

    "...Passed?

    I don''t know what the hell that means.

    But there was no time to ponder that.

    Vikir searched his memory and guessed the identity of the barbarian girl in front of him.

    Information about the Barbarian tribe of Bk shes through his mind before he regresses.

    #Bk #Civilized barbarians #Live in the hignds of the Red and ck Mountains #Poption between 300 and 500 #Wolf-riding, bow-wielding hunter-gatherers #Friendship with the Empire is very low #Warriors of both sexes #Every single member of the tribe is highly militant....

    After reviewing the many podiums, I''m starting to get the picture.

    The Bk were a barbarian tribe with few known personalities, though some of their names were known far beyond the borders of the mountain range.

    The first name thates to mind is Adonai the Archer, one of the greatest warriors the Bk have ever known.

    He was one of the Empire''s "Three Outer Cmities," and a chieftain at the height of Bk''s power.

    He was so famous that he single-handedly dered war on the Empire, sniping and killing 542 Gradients during the 100-day war.

    The number of casualties among the rank-and-file soldiers was uncountable.

    The Empire suffered untold losses in the short span of 100 days, and from then on, the enemy and the ck Mountains were categorized as "extralegal" territory, and all-out war was avoided.

    It''s a much devalued ount in the Empire''s history books, but a remarkable one all the same.

    ''... But this is not the age of the Adonai.''

    Vikir thought for a moment.

    Adonai was from a whole generation before.

    A great man so long ago that even Vikir had only heard of him in history books.

    The archer Adonai had disappeared from the scene when the Baskervilles had just migrated to the Western Front and established themselves as pioneers, and he had presumably died around that time.

    The current patriarch of the Baskervilles, Hugo Les Baskervilles, hadn''t even been born yet.

    So, who else could have been of the same age and as famous?

    ''If it''s rtively recent, it''s... the ''Fox of the Night'' who fought a ten-day battle against the Baskervilles and the Morgans, killing 32 people before disappearing.''

    When Vikir was a boy, Baskerville and Morg had joined forces to wipe out their enemies and the barbarians of the ck Mountains.

    One of Bk''s archers, who yed a prominent role in those wars, was known as the Night Fox.

    Not much else was known about her, only that she was female.

    In the span of ten days, she had killed sixteen Gradient-ss swordsmen in Baskerville, ten fourth-ss mages in Morg, and six fifth-ss mages.

    Vikir was too young to see the devastation with his own eyes, but he could guess at the aftermath, as many of his instructors at the Hound level had died.

    "And it was the same in this life.

    The creature that had left scars on the bridge of Sword Star Hugo''s nose and on Adolf''s chest in a territorial dispute not long ago was probably the Night Fox.

    ''... but she doesn''t look the right age to be a night fox.''

    It was clear that her current age was at least in her early thirties, and most likely in her mid-thirties.

    Even if she was an archery genius, she must have lived and practiced for quite a long time to be able to wound a Swordmaster and a ss 6 mage.

    The barbarian girl in front of him was probably only in herte teens.

    Although her skills were impressive, she was far too weak to be a Night Fox.

    ''It''s not in the history books, and I''ve never heard of her.

    So what was this, some kind of bloodline from the Night Fox?

    Not much was written about the Bk in the history books, and even the local Baskervilles who fought them knew little about them.

    If the Night Fox, who might now be leading the Bk, had left any blood, it could be this girl in front of him.

    "So much for the barbarian researcher.

    Vikir had thought a lot in such a short time.

    Just then.

    ...Hook!

    The sound of a wind blowing in from somewhere.

    It was too faint to be the sound of an arrow.

    But the hunter''s senses, trained through the ages of destruction, would not allow for a gap as thin as a hair.

    Boom!

    Vikir swung the hem of the bloodwind to stop it in its tracks.

    It was a cactus thorn, a stingerced with paralyzing poison.

    The same ones that had poisoned the camo before.

    "...what! How did you stop it!?"

    An exmation of horror echoes across the water.

    Ahun, hiding beneath the roots of a tree, was panicking, his mouth mped shut.

    Vikir debated whether or not to fight back, then withdrew his aura.

    All that mattered now was getting the camel in his arms to safety, and by extension, erasing his massive debt to the Morgas.

    "Just be patient, I''ll take you to your uncle soon enough...?"

    But Vikir did not finish his sentence.

    The camel in his arms was looking up into his face with a nk expression.

    Hisplexion was flushed and he was out of breath. His heart was beating too fast.

    "Has it been poisoned with something other than paralyzing venom?

    Vikir asked the camel, sensing something was wrong.

    "Poisoned?"

    "...I think so."

    If so, this is bad news.

    Vikir hurriedly retreated.

    Aiyen drew his bow with lightning speed, but he couldn''t catch Vikir as he darted backward.

    Whirligig-!

    The rope snares fly again.

    The female warriors of Bk have been relentless in their pursuit of Vikir.

    But.

    Kiririk-grrrr!

    Vikir, too, has unleashed his auras, slicing through thessos.

    With so many eyes on him, he was only able to disy the swordsmanship and aura of a lower level Gradient, but that was enough to overwhelm themon warriors of Bk.

    But.

    Ping-ping!

    Aiyen''s arrows were so powerful that even Vikir had to be careful.

    The good news is that Aiyen''s arrows are deflected by Vikir''s rapid fire.

    Arrows aimed precisely at Vikir''s legs, and the asional noose flying by.

    Add to that the fact that Vikir is carrying a camel in his arms, and you''ve got a recipe for trouble.

    Meanwhile, the camel clutches at the hem of Vikir''s robe in a show of understanding.

    "...Ugh, I never thought I''d be an embarrassing heroine who only grabs ankles."

    "Heroine, you''re so self-conscious."

    Vikir scooped the camel up and kept falling backwards.

    Just then.

    Quack, quack, quack!

    A loud explosion puts a giant wall of ice between Bk''s warriors and Vikir.

    Suddenly, a massive wall of ice surrounded them, trapping them all.

    Morg Adolf.

    Morg is a delegate to the Mage Council, leading the great party known as the Ming Party.

    One of the highest ranking members of the Imperial Magisterium.

    His power, looking beyond the sixth ss to the seventh, was unbridled.

    "Stand down, nephew."

    He drew a number line in the air, calctingplex forms.

    The volume of ice, the specific gravity of ice, thetent heat of melting ice, the amount of mana remaining, and the fatigue of magic tools are multiplied and divided.

    And the results are frightening.

    Boom, boom, boom!

    The entire sea of water began to freeze.

    As if an ice age hade, hail and snowkes scattered through the air, and the ankles of those fleeing were frozen to the ground.

    Bk''s barbarian warriors and their wolves were hardy, so their frozen legs would not be cut off.

    But there was nothing to be done about being pinned to the ground.

    "Bite them all to death."

    Baskerville''s hounds'' teeth sank into the defenseless Bk warriors.

    Morg''s wizards joined in, and screams began to erupt from everywhere.

    By then, Adolf had taken the camo from Vikir.

    "My nephew, are you all right?"

    Adolf called out anxiously to the camel, who was still covered in Vikir''s blood.

    At the same time, detoxification magic appeared.

    ...Pow!

    CURE POISON.

    It was a very high ss magic, and not just anyone could use it.

    Adolf seeded in removing some of the paralyzing poison from the camel''s body.

    "That''s a lot of paralyzing poison, and it''s going to be hard to get it all out. You''re going to have to lie down for a few months, and when we get back, we''ll start by visiting the Holy House of Quavadis."

    Even Adolph''s strength could not remove the poison.

    Afterward, the camel recovered from the paralyzing poison and leapt to his feet.

    And then?

    ...boom!

    He rushed to his less paralyzed leg and hugged Vikir around the neck.

    "You saved me again!"

    Adolf''s expression behind him turned to one of frustration and sullenness.

    "Nephew, here''s your uncle."

    "Why is my uncle here now, I''m going to tell my mom everything!"

    "...."

    At this, Adolf grew even more sullen.

    At that moment, Vikir pushed the camo away from him and spoke to Adolf.

    "My lord. It seems that the camouge is poisoned with other poisons as well. From what I heard earlier...."

    "Hmm? I don''t recall any other poison besides the paralyzing one?"

    "...?"

    What? I thought it was clear earlier....

    But not if it''s not Adolf.

    Vikir was just about to turn to look at the camo.

    Chark!

    Another ropesso flew in.

    This one wasn''t like thest one.

    It was much more sophisticated, with a strange, writhing motion. It was like watching a live snake.

    "...!"

    Vikir frowned, striking the noose with the back of his sword.

    Aiyen. Holding the end of the noose, she red at him with a determined expression.

    Not at Vikir, to be precise, but at the camo.

    "You''d better be caught quietly, we''re running out of time."

    Slurred Imperial, Vikir thought, puzzled.

    "No time?

    What does this mean? Did he misspeak because he was not fluent in Imperial?

    Even now, the Morg and the Baskervilles are overwhelming Bk. It is only Bk

    time.

    Bombastic sounds, bright lights, and high-pitched screams echoed from everywhere.

    Sssssssss...

    The water reacts to the untimely disturbance.

    Leaves slowly rustled.

    Just then,

    "... came!

    It''s finally here!"

    Ahun, who was carrying the longsword, shouted in a seizure.

    All the Bk warriors who heard it stopped moving for a moment.

    "...?"

    Vikir scratched his head.

    Even the keen senses of a hunter who has lived through an age of destruction can''t pick up on anything.

    Only.

    A buzzing.

    Beelzebub, lurking within the arteries of his wrist, was warning him furiously.

    "It''sing!"

    "Madame Eight-Legged!"

    "She''sing, she''sing!"

    Bk''s barbarians are hardy souls, whose faces never change in the face of the most severe torture.

    To see them so terrified now was indeed a grave sign.

    ....

    ...And now.

    Something peeks out from the darkness.

    A heavier, darker ckness, casting its shadow across the water.

    This moment,

    drawn by the light andmotion of battle.

    An unknown horror wasing.

 Chapter 51: The Husband Hunt (6)

    <h4>Chapter 51: The Husband Hunt (6)</h4>

    ....

    Something peered out of the darkness.

    A darker, heavier darkness, casting its shadow across the water.

    Deeper, thicker, heavier, darker, it is ''it''!

    It had surely been drawn to the lights andmotion of the battlefield by Baskerville and the Morg.

    "Herees Madame Eight-Legged."

    Bk''s warriors are visibly panicking.

    The warriors of Morg and Baskerville realize the gravity of the situation, as do the warriors who are not known for their fearlessness.

    Vikir, in particr, already had some idea of what was peering out from beyond the darkness.

    He had seen, heard, and experienced countless incidents in the jungles of the ck Mountains with the enemy before his return.

    And Vikir remembered the words of an old native he had once stumbled upon while drifting in an unfortunate time.

    ''Madam with eight legs''.

    A piece of ghostly legend.

    It was a tale of untold horrors that lurked at the bottom of the water, in the depths of rotting root holes.

    "...shhh. Don''t make a sound."

    Vikir ced his hand over the camel''s lips in his arms and whispered in its ear.

    "You may not be able to see very well, but you have sensitive ears and skin, old man."

    Light and sound. He''s sensitive to them.

    Jahak... Jaharak...

    Beyond the tangled skeins of roots in the floodwaters, a noise sounded otherworldly.

    It sounded like the ufortable groan of an old man, or thest gasp of a drowning man in a swamp.

    Rustling, rustling, rustling.

    Soon there was the sound of bristly, dense fur being swept everywhere.

    From the sound of it, the thing that was now approaching must be of immense size.

    Even the mighty Morg Adolph was at a loss as to what species this creature lurking in the darkness belonged to.

    "It must be a new creature that hasn''t been seen before, but how could such a monster be undiscovered?"

    Adolf''s questions were legitimate.

    But Vikir, who knew howrge and vast the enemy and the ck Mountain''s waters were, had nothing to say.

    He merely recited the information from his pre-reversion knowledge, information that had been refined and perfected over the course of several more editions, even in the version Adolph now knew.

    "Madame Eight-Legged. An annihtion-level demon. One that will grow into an even more terrifying monster in the next decade.

    Risk Level S.

    Dangerous enough that a single entity is capable of destroying a nation.

    If we were to fight it head-on, we would have no chance.

    Even here, in its home base of Suhai, it''s not even at night!

    ...Gulp, gulp, gulp, gulp, gulp, gulp, gulp.

    Something sticky is dripping down from above, onto the leaves, fallen branches, and human heads.

    The drops of slime falling simultaneously from various locations created the illusion of drizzling rain.

    ....

    Static.

    Perfect static.

    There hadn''t been a sound of a grasshopper in the water since before.

    And now this.

    The veteran swordsmen of Baskerville, the seasoned wizards of Morg, and the fierce barbarian warriors of Bk had all been reduced to nothing more than grasshoppers.

    All were frozen in ce, unable to breathe.

    Praying that the great nightmare in the sky would pass quickly.

    Just then.

    "Kaaaaaah!"

    A tearing scream came from the air.

    Vikir turned his head quickly.

    There, standing there, was Camu, his eyes narrowed in horror.

    "It''s not ..., is it?"

    She made an X with her hands as if to say, "No more embarrassment.

    Vikir breathes a sigh of relief.

    It''s Ahun of Bk who''s letting out a new scream.

    "My, my head! Madame''s poison!"

    Ahun was running around, shaking out his hair.

    Was it because he quickly cut it off with a knife?

    Tsutsutsutsuts...

    On the ground, Ahun''s hair is melting away.

    But dodging the onrushing water didn''t save him from the tsunami that followed.

    "It" began to respond to his screams.

    A thick darkness descended upon the Bk warriors.

    Aiyen quickly grabbed Ahun by the back of the neck and ran.

    "You fool! If you weren''t the eldest son of a shaman, I''d be all over you!"

    Ahun cowered, unable to utter a word as Iyen growled.

    Soon, Bk''s warriors began to scatter, spreading out across the water.

    "Let us run!"

    At Adolf''s words, Morg and Baskerville''s pursuers retreated.

    But there was a slight difference in the way the Bk, Morg, and Baskerville alliance retreated.

    Bk''s warriors fled individually, with none of them running in the same direction.

    The Morg and Baskervilles, on the other hand, fled in unison.

    This slight difference helped determine the "it" factor.

    Passasasak-

    The sound of de-like leaves bending so easily.

    A huge pile of fur was breaking through the dense foliage and thorns, heading this way.

    ... into the room at breakneck speed!

    Puck! Thump! Thump...

    Dull noises came from all directions.

    It was the sound of swordsmen and mages being crushed by an unidentified attack.

    "What the hell is that?"

    Adolph eximed as he ran, scooping up his camel.

    Staffordshire, too, runs forward, carrying the Baskerville triplets in his arms.

    The triplets, who had just been knocked out by an unknown attacker, were bleeding from the corners of their mouths, their eyes wide open and ring at the "it" behind them.

    Just then.

    "That''s it."

    Vikir paused.

    At this rate, we''re all going to die.

    Whirr-

    Vikir spins around in his seat.

    Camu sees him and cries out.

    "Rain, Vikir! What!"

    She gasps in surprise.

    Facing the camel, Vikir doesn''t turn around, but waves his hand briefly.

    "Let me buy you some time."

    "It" is not an opponent that can be fought by hiding its power.

    And this crisis was an opportunity, a golden moment to legally slip off Hugo''s radar.

    Vikir instinctively sensed that the time hade to realize a n he had long thought of.

    Death. And camouge.

    Once a hound in the field is dead, all surveince and control over it ceases.

    In his mind, he had already memorized the theories of the Baskerville Tenth Sword Art. His mana and aura are slowly recovering to the level of his previous life.

    All she needs is time. A ce away from prying eyes.

    This is the perfect ce to hide and improve, so that when the time is right, she can leave and return to her family.

    "No! Vikir, pleasee back!"

    The camel cries out.

    Vikir turns his back on the intive cry.

    In the distant future, when he is no match for Hugo, or at least when he is able to hide and control his skills perfectly, he will return to his family and perhaps be treated as a hero.

    At least he could im to have sacrificed himself for the sake of Morg''s feast.

    Vikir straightened his posture.

    "Do your best, or die.

    He had no intention of giving it his all against an opponent who would likely die anyway.

    It was just a matter of how much she could produce.

    Vikir stood in front of ''It'' in an almost sacrificial manner.

    ''If we go on like this, we''ll all die,'' ''I''ll stop it for a while, so everyone run away,'' ''Tell my family that I was brave at the end,'' ... and other lines that Vikir didn''t bother to say.

    They must have gotten through without me.

    "...Nephew."

    Adolph bit his lip, a grim expression on his face.

    He bites his lip so tightly that it bleeds from the corner of his mouth, but he must return to his family as soon as possible to save his poisoned niece.

    "Master ...."

    Staffordshire, also carrying the injured triplets, looked back at Vikir with trembling eyes.

    Finally, Camus.

    "...."

    She stretched out her hands toward Vikir, her face covered in tears and snot, her expression now speechless, her throat hoarse from exhaustion.

    Only to be blocked from moving forward by Adolf''s strong forearm.

    "Go."

    Vikir turned his back on everyone and drew his sword.

    Then.

    "Do not let my niece''s sacrifice be in vain!"

    Adolf cried out, spitting up blood.

    With that, the survivors of the Morgans and Baskervilles began to run away from ''it''.

    "...."

    Vikir watched them all move away.

    And with that.

    Passa Passa Passa.

    The fast-approaching ''thing'' broke through the darkness and leaned forward toward Vikir.

    At the same time.

    Vikir unleashes all the power he''s been holding back.

    Mana, fed by the waters of the River Styx.

    An aura made even more refined by his newfound mastery of Baskerville-style High Swordsmanship.

    In addition, the rare magic sword Beelzebub pierced my wrist, revealing long teeth.

    ...Puff-puff-puff!

    A pitch-ck aura, red as blood and dark as the abyss, began to rampage like a demon from Beelzebub''s tip.

    It quickly formed five gigantic teeth and mped down on ''it''.

    Jaaaahhhhh!

    The monster let out a startled yell. A scream, tight with pain.

    Quack, quack, quack!

    There was a sh of light like a giant sun falling.

    Vikir''s aura surged with power, forcing dawn into the dark waters.

    He didn''t see Adolf and Staffordshire, who were concentrating on running forward, but... Camus and the triplets, who were being carried by them and looking backward, saw through the exploding beam of light.

    ...sh!

    Vikir''s ridiculous power exploding the aura of a Gradual Intermediate.

 Chapter 52: Slaves of the Savage Tribe (1)

    <h4>Chapter 52: ves of the Savage Tribe (1)</h4>

    Chirp-.

    A small bird chirped.

    Vikir opened his eyes to the sunlight streaming in.

    The morning light stabbed painfully through her body.

    As Vikir tried to sit up, he grimaced at the pain, as if his entire body had been shattered.

    With superhuman strength, he managed to keep his upper body upright, but getting fully to his feet was painful.

    "Where am I?

    Vikir thought back tost night, which could have been any number of days ago.

    He remembered hurling every ounce of his strength at the darkness under the water.

    Mana squeezed hard, aura burned fiercely.

    I''d thrown my mid-level Gradient power and my magic sword, Beelzebub, at it, and the result was devastating.

    ''Defeated''.

    Madame Eight-Legged, a gigantic demonic creature shrouded in darkness, was a creature beyond Vikir''s expectations.

    At the crucial moment, she would have been killed if she hadn''t flinched from the sudden st of light.

    And for a creature that could generate such firepower, Vikir''s recoil damage was not insignificant.

    Muscles and veins throughout his body were ruptured.

    The strain on the bones that had to support them was even worse.

    The bones of the fingers and forearms that gripped the sword were shattered byminuted fractures, and the sharp points of spiral-bent ribs pierced his intestines.

    The leg bones that had been thrown out had sufferedminuted fractures, transverse fractures, and variously shattered segmental fractures.

    As a result, there was no bone, muscle, blood, skin, or anything else.

    "At least he''s alive.

    Vikir breathed a sigh of relief.

    He had the protection of the River Styx and the power of Beelzebub''s ''stiff-necked breath'' to thank for his survival.

    The consequences of misjudging Madame Eight-Legged''s fighting prowess were painful, but he was d to be off Hugo''s radar for now.

    His death will be reported to Baskerville soon.

    There were plenty of eyewitnesses to his death, including Adolph the Mad, a camel, a Staffordshire, and triplets, so I needn''t worry about proving it.

    Furthermore, he did not die for not knowing his fractions, but rather for saving the next head of Morgue from demons and barbarians.

    ''...The Baskervilles will benefit greatly from future diplomacy with Morgue.

    Moreover, the Baskervilles are a knightly family, and this tale will contribute greatly to their image both internally and externally.

    Such a feat would likely be rewarded by the imperial court.

    Even in death, he would not be treated as a pathetic bastard for bringing honor and profit to the n.

    If you return to your family in the future and reveal that you''re alive, you''ll be treated even better.

    "I must recover quickly and regain my former strength.

    Vikir used the power of Murcigo to heal the wounds on his body.

    Bones and wounds that were healing at a ridiculous rate, though not immediately.

    Then.

    Vikir suddenly noticed the ropes around his neck.

    A noose hung like a cor around Vikir''s neck.

    This was the other thing that had saved Vikir''s life, besides the protection of the River Styx and the power of Murcigo.

    If it hadn''t been for the noose, which flew up from behind and yanked at his throat just before the creature''s attack crushed his entire body, Vikir would have died.

    It was a very well-timed snare that nearly broke his neck and killed him, but he''s d to be alive.

    Vikir clutched at the noose around his neck.

    The end of the noose''s rope ran through the tent and out the door.

    Vikir lifted his head and looked back inside the tent.

    A cone-shaped tent made of animal skins. A few wooden supports were the only poles, and the floor was littered with dried leaves.

    Rustle.

    A ss vial of some sort was lying in a circle beside him, and upon closer inspection, he realized it was a potion bottle with the sigil of the Baskervilles.

    The smell of dry earth, fallen leaves, animal fur, and stewing potions mingled in the tent.

    Vikir crawled like a dog out of the tent.

    Her whole body burned with each step, but she needed to get a sense of her surroundings.

    Soon, thendscape outside the tent came into view.

    Large and small tents made of leather, drums beating everywhere, mes leaping from high piles of wood.

    Arge number of barbarians moved among them.

    ck or silver hair, brown skin, and well toned muscles in both men and women.

    Tops made of deer or jaguar skins, bottoms of cloth dyed with acorn juice.

    Tattooed and scarred, they dismembered the carcass of a demon and skinned its flesh, while children yed with birds.

    The atmosphere was cheerful and lively, but raw, unrefined and unprocessed.

    Vikir knew instinctively that this was the home of the Bk, a barbarian tribe.

    In the heart of enemy territory, longtime enemies of the Baskervilles.

    He should be on his guard, but he was too weak to do so now.

    Vikir wondered what to do next.

    Bk''s warriors walked past him, paying him no mind as he stood there alone.

    The women and children stiffened a little and seemed wary, but that was it.

    Just then.

    "Quick, quick, quick, walk!"

    A nervous shout came from somewhere.

    Vikir turned his head to see several barbarian warriors dragging rope-bound prisoners.

    The prisoners, standing in a line and staggering, were of various races.

    Most were ck-haired, brown-skinned men of other tribes.

    Every single one of them had been tortured and abused in some way.

    Vikir recognized a few familiar faces among them.

    Warriors whose names he did not recognize, but who were surely members of House Baskerville and House Morg.

    Some he''d met in the fortress, others he''d traveled with to this jungle.

    Their entire bodies hung like fish from ropes, their eyes locked for the briefest of moments with Vikir, who wore only a single dog cor around his neck.

    "...."

    "...."

    And then they walked past each other.

    Vikir stood silent, watching them.

    Then the Bk warriors stabbed their captives with the tips of their spears.

    "Climb up quickly. Unless you want to be mauled to death by wolves."

    They led their captives to a tall tree.

    It was an impossibly tall pole, covered in thorns that jutted out like des.

    Bk''s barbarians forced their captives to climb this ded tree with their bare bodies.

    The captives climb this tower of des until they are covered in blood.

    If anyone refused to climb, the barbarians would set fire to the base of the tree.

    The tree was oiled on the trunk, so the mes continued to climb up the tree, faster than most prisoners could climb a tree.

    Eventually, the prisoners would either bleed to death from being stabbed and cut by the de-like trunks, burned by the mes from below, or plummet to their deaths on the ground below.

    Thump, thump, thump!

    Below the tree, the wolves were howling, pushing their captives up the tree.

    Some had been impaled by spears or bitten by wolves for refusing to climb the tree of des.

    The horrific "Tree of Thorns Punishment" was devised by an old Bk shaman.

    Vikir could only watch this hellish execution.

    Then.

    "Hoo-hoo, be thankful you don''t look like that."

    Someone says to Vikir.

    Ahun. It was the barbarian warrior who had shot the camel with the tranquilizer needle the other day.

    He was giving Vikir a murderous re, as if he wanted to kill him right now.

    "If you weren''t the captain''s pet, I would have boiled you right there."

    "...."

    "Don''t just stand there, go find your master!"

    Ahun kicked Vikir hard on the butt with his foot.

    "...."

    Vikir fell to the ground and stared at Ahun.

    Ahun flinched slightly at the stare.

    "What kind of eyes....

    There was not an ounce of agitation in those serene eyes.

    Not the horrific deaths of his captives, not the pain of his battered body.

    Ahun felt a shiver run down his spine as he realized that none of it had stirred Vikir''s soul.

    Slowly, Vikir rose from his seat and began to follow the rope around his neck.

    Ahun could only follow behind, unable to keep up with Vikir.

    * * *

    ''...The guy from earlier. You said his name was Ahun, didn''t you?''

    He probably holds a grudge because he hurt his back falling off the wolf''s back the other day.

    Vikir hadn''t forgotten the face of the man who had just kicked his ass.

    But he couldn''t do anything about it in his current state, so he''d just have to put up with it for now.

    Even now, the protection of the Styx River and the regenerative powers of Murcigo are slowly restoring Vikir''s body to its former glory.

    In the meantime, Vikir has decided to visit the owner of the noose that saved his life.

    After walking for a while, tugging at the rope around his neck, Vikir finds himself in a remote area far from the vige.

    A small spring fed a pool with a waterfall cascading down through the rocks.

    A few crayfish could be seen crawling in the clear water.

    A rope led to it.

    "...?"

    Vikir stopped walking for a moment.

    He''s not sure what to do when he sees that the rope he''s been following leads to the center of the pool and goes under the water.

    Just then.

    Boom!

    There''s a ssh and a figure pokes its head out of the water.

    Water droplets sshing around, hair a mix of silver and ck, pointed triangr ears.

    A girl with brown skin and big eyes walked out of the water, naked.

    The end of the noose''s rope was tied tightly around her wrists.

    "...."

    Vikir looked straight into the barbarian girl''s face.

    Dark, half-moon eyebrows, foxlike nt, eyes as clear as the puddle he was in now, red lips on an intelligent nose.

    The charcoal-ck color of his face was gone, but the look in his eyes was unmistakable.

    She was the barbarian girl I''d met at an illegal ve auction during the cleanup of Underdog City.

    They were diametrically opposed then. Vikir held her eyes steady.

    "...."

    "...."

    A brief silence followed.

    It was the barbarian girl who broke it first.

    She tugged at the leash around Vikir''s neck and grinned.

    "Get down."

 Chapter 53: Slave of the Barbarian Tribe (2)

    <h4>Chapter 53: ve of the Barbarian Tribe (2)</h4>

    Aiyen, a Bak warrior and the daughter of a chieftain.

    She spoke to Vikir in front of her.

    "Get down."

    Was she trying to make the hierarchy clear?

    But it didn''t sound like that was her intention.

    Because.

    Pfft.

    Vikir felt a st of airing toward him.

    At the same time.

    ...Pot!

    Aiyen pulled on the leash around Vikir''s neck.

    As Vikir ducked, a thin arrow flew past his back, hitting the ground with a thud.

    Aiyen shouted.

    "You boys, can''t you go practice somewhere else!"

    Suddenly, a rustling sound came from beyond the bushes, and a group of young children came running.

    Each one had a bow and arrow in his hand.

    "...."

    Vikir lifted his head again and looked at Aiyen in front of him.

    The girl shaking off the water in front of her.

    The girl he had rescued from the ve auction before.

    Aiyen said to Vikir.

    " We meet on the sphere, right?"

    He spoke in Bk, judging his skills in thenguage to be better than Aiyen''s in Imperial.

    " ... I see you again."

    Aiyen''s eyes widened at the sound of the Bknguageing out of Vikir''s mouth.

    "Do you speak Bk?"

    "A little."

    She walked to stand in front of Vikir, her eyes wide with wonder.

    She had only a few short pieces of deerskin around her, but she didn''t seem to have any shame.

    Aiyen stepped up to stand in front of Vikir.

    "We were grateful then. We will repay your favor twice and your vengeance tenfold."

    "...."

    "You saved me once, so I will save you twice."

    "...."

    "I never thought you''d try to fight ''her'', I ran away and came back just in case."

    Certainly, Vikir would have been killed by Madame Eight-Legged, the Dark One, if the rope Aiyen had thrown hadn''t been caught around his neck in time to pull him back.

    ...So what is the other time?

    When Vikir looked at him as if demanding an exnation, the corners of Aiyen''s eyes drew a fox-like arc.

    "Did you not see it on the way here?"

    She pointed beyond the bushes to the acrid column of smoke rising from the vige.

    Vikir thought of the prisoners he''d met along the way.

    Perhaps she would share a simr fate.

    Perhaps it was the Aiyen in front of him who had prevented it.

    If so, that raised a more fundamental question.

    "Why did you save me?"

    Was it simply to repay a favor? If so, there would be no reason for him to throw the noose around his neck in the first ce.

    And Aiyen was not the only one who wanted to put a noose around Vikir''s neck.

    Every female warrior in Bk that day had her sights set on Vikir''s neck.

    As Aiyen sliced into the pizza, Vikir asked her bluntly.

    "Is this some kind of husband hunt or something?"

    "Oh, you must have heard about it somewhere."

    It''s not just the Bk, most savages in the jungle kidnap their spouses from outside the tribe.

    The idea is to avoid incest and bring in fresh blood.

    The Bk, of course, are a warrior tribe, so the physical strength of the abductee is a big factor.

    Aiyen circled around Vikir once.

    Like an appraiser evaluating a piece of merchandise.

    In the meantime, Vikir had been thinking a lot.

    What if they told the Baskervilles that they were alive, and they negotiated a hostage?

    That would put a damper on their ns.

    Their n to stay off Hugo''s radar and build up their strength would be ruined.

    In order to stop it, you have to escape this ce or annihte all of them... ... That was impossible with Vikir''s current physical condition

    But Vikir had worried for nothing.

    They didn''t seem to have any intention of interfering with him.

    Aiyen nced at Vikir and said.

    "Don''t be mistaken. I am not like the other women. I don''t need a husband."

    "...."

    "You have been captured to be used as a ve."

    She wondered, but didn''t say it out loud, if it had been necessary to throw the noose so desperately.

    When Vikir remained still, Aiyen waved the dog cor in his hand.

    "You won''t be able to pass for a man with that body anyway, so you might as well get used to life as a ve."

    By nature, Bk women see nothing but breeding in the men they capture from the outside world.

    If the man fails to fulfill his role as a male, they usually kill him, but fortunately (?) Aiyen doesn''t seem to have the sense to do so.

    Aiyen tossed his clothes to Vikir at the water''s edge.

    Vikir catches it, and the cor pulls taut.

    Aiyen led the way back to the vige.

    "You will live in front of my house and serve me."

    Vikir''s entire body screamed with each step, but he kept his mouth shut nheless.

    The good news is that his body is recovering quickly, thanks to the power of Murcigo.

    To Vikir, Aiyen gave his first order, briefly.

    "Let''s get our formalities straightened out."

    Walking ahead, Aiyen paused at the entrance to the n and looked back at Vikir.

    He looked down and narrowed his eyes.

    "Call me master."

    * * *

    Vikir descended again into the vige of the Bk.

    They lived freely in the dense jungle.

    The concept of personal property seemed remote.

    If you didn''t have a ce to sleep, you slept in a neighbor''s tent, and no one minded.

    If they were hungry, they ate from people who had plenty of food, and they were happy to share.

    There seemed to be a shared consciousness that everythinges and goes, so let''s share while we have it.

    They gathered at a friend''s house with arge tent, yed cheerfully, and fell asleep.

    Firewood, meat, and alcohol were shared generously, and there was no yamcha.

    Even if they had been kidnapped from the outside, once they were recognized as members of the tribe, they could go anywhere ande anywhere.

    Overall, a lively and weing atmosphere.

    But the skeletons of captives hanging from the thorn trees at the tribe''s boundary conveyed a different message.

    This is Bk''s n, and that is unforgiving to outsiders but endlessly friendly and free to residents.

    ... But within the n, there is a "dignified zone" where even insiders are not allowed to roam.

    Vikir''s destination was one of those few ces.

    Arge tent in the center of the vige.

    It looked like it could hold up to two dozen people, but even the children ying in front of it were not allowed to approach.

    Passing warriors always bowed their heads in reverence toward the entrance of this tent.

    Those grilling meat were careful to keep the smoke from wafting in this direction, and those preparing the entrails of their prey were careful to keep the scent of blood from drifting away.

    "''... Is this the chieftain''s house?

    Vikir guessed from the size of the tent.

    Aiyen grabbed the leash around Vikir''s neck and strode inside.

    "Mother."

    Vikir could see the figure Aiyen sought.

    Inside the tent, there was a chair with arge eagle carved into it, and a woman sitting cross-legged, reclining at an angle.

    A grim expression, scars ovipositing all over her body.

    She wears a cloak and bottoms made of eagle feathers, and a long,rge bow rests on a sceptre behind her back.

    She wore a cloak of eagle feathers, with a long,rge bow on her back.

    Aqu, the current matriarch of the Bk.

    Vikir knelt silently before her, drawn by Aiyen''s touch.

    Vikir had already realized that the chieftainess'' real name was Night Fox, as she exuded a heavy presence before him.

    The woman who had scarred the bridge of Heavenly Sword Saint Hugo''s nose.

    Even Adolf the Mad had been defeated by her, and had spent some time in the service.

    Her presence was the reason why Baskerville and the Morg were unable to cross the border between the enemy and the ck Mountain.

    After all, she had killed 16 Gradient-ss swordsmen, 10 fourth-ss mages, and 6 fifth-ss mages in her short life.

    All without a single wound!

    She was also the one who had left arrowhead marks on the faces of her enemies and the ck Mountain Demon Cerberus.

    "What if it was before the regression?

    If I had been able to unleash the power of my prime, could I have faced this woman?

    ''I would have had a 0% chance in a hand-to-hand fight, a 0% chance by assassination, and a... 20% chance by running away.''

    That 20%, of course, is the chance of survival.

    Vikir''s mind raced as he tried to gauge the woman in front of him.

    After all, she was up against a Hugo or an Adolf, a top predator that she was no match for right now.

    Meanwhile, Aqu red down at Vikir in front of her.

    "Daughter, is this the Imperial male you''ve been drooling over?"

    "No, when did I ever say that much... but yes, he is."

    "Hmm. He''s younger than you, and I recognize his face."

    Aqu stared at Vikir with narrowed eyes.

    The gaze was like that of a top predator from a vastly elevated position, scanning the lesser prey below.

    All Vikir could do was keep his head down and avoid her gaze as much as possible.

    Fortunately, Aqu didn''t see any sign of Hugo on Vikir.

    Hugo had strong lines, a square jaw, and a masculine appearance, while Vikir took on more of his mother''s features.

    Apart from that though, Aqu seemed to have a pretty good idea of Vikir''s physical condition.

    "I see. What are you doing picking up a wasted man?"

    "If you treat him well, he''ll be worth it. He''s the one who jumped on Madame Eightlegs."

    "Hmph. Yes, but rampaging without knowing your ce will only get you in trouble."

    Aqu said.

    "Sure. It doesn''t matter if the body is broken or not, as long as the seeds are intact...."

    "Aah! Mother, that''s not it, he''s going to be used as a ve!"

    "What? But isn''t that the purpose you''ve been telling me all along...."

    "Whoa, that''s what it was originally intended for, a ve, I need one to help me hunt!"

    Aiyen quickly waved her hand to stop Aqu''s words.

    Aqu looked at her daughter with a puzzled expression, then nodded.

    "...Well, so be it. It is your freedom to use your ve for whatever purpose you choose."

    As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Aiyen bowed her head and tugged on Vikir''s leash.

    Once outside the tent, Aiyen''s expression was much stiffer than before.

    The flustered look on his face before his mother was gone.

    "From now on, I will give you a mission."

    Aiyen looked down at Vikir, who was only one head shorter than her, and spoke in a high-pitched voice.

    "It will be difficult."

    ...A pretty tough mission, indeed.

 Chapter 54: Slaves of the Barbarian Tribe (3)

    <h4>Chapter 54: ves of the Barbarian Tribe (3)</h4>

    Aiyen is the youngest hunting leader of the Bk.

    She leads the young men of Bk through the jungle without fear.

    However, she has met a foe that has surprised her.

    His name is Vikir, a ve who was recently captured in a raid on Imperial territory.

    "...."

    Aiyen stared at Vikir with a nk expression.

    Vikir moved swiftly with his ufortable body, building a tent for himself, as if he didn''t need anyone''s help.

    Chug-chug-chug-chug...

    A dozen wooden sticks, each just over two meters long, are lined up in a row, and a mixture of inky ck, stone dust, lime powder, and water is applied to the sides.

    The structure was a mixture of dry and wet, the walls lined with leaves and covered with animal skins.

    The tents were quickly fitted with doors and windows, and the floors were lined with sawdust and fallen leaves.

    The few building materials given to the ves were enough.

    In less than half an hour, the tent was ready for Vikir to sleep in alone.

    "Order fulfilled."

    Vikir looked back at Aiyen, his voice hard and dry.

    The first order Aiyen had given to Vikir was to make him a home of his own.

    Aiyen peered into Vikir''s tent in disbelief.

    There was a small hole in the ceiling and a p that could be closed if it rained.

    There was even a small fire pit on the floor inside, and a hole for the smoke to escape extended outward across the floor of the tent.

    When the fire was turned off for a meal, the smoke would pass under the floor and heat up to the bottom of the tent.

    The smoke would escape, the heat from the residual fire would be trapped, and the venttion and light would be perfect.

    Aiyen was dumbfounded.

    "...How do you build tents so well?"

    She was actually looking forward to hearing Vikir grunt in protest.

    Aiyen quickly hid the building materials that Vikir had been trying to give away to make his life more colorful.

    Sturdy wooden sticks, oil for baking bricks.

    But Vikir didn''t need any of that; he found calcareous soil, scooped it up, and hardened it with water.

    He also built a shelter ofrge leaves to protect against rain and wind.

    "...It''s been a while."

    Swordsmen from the Age of Destruction were not just good with swords.

    They had to be skilled in all sorts of survival skills to be able to camp and survive in the hot and cold pr regions.

    As such, Vikir was also a master of many domestic tasks.

    After building the tent, Vikir trimmed the piles of leather near Aiyen''s tent and hung up the torn fabrics.

    He also cleared a drainage ditch near the tent, andid out some firewood for tonight.

    Chug-chug-chug-chug...

    A ve who thinks and acts on his own before his master asks him to do anything, and takes care of all those pesky chores.

    Literally a ss A ve.

    "The bricks under the chieftain''s tent look unstable."

    "...My mother''s house?"

    "Yes. The way it is, the ground beneath the center pole of the tent could shake and leak water during the next rainy season. If you give me the order, I will mix the limestone soil down there with stone dust from the hill across the street, make bricks, oil them, bake them, and reinforce them."

    "...Yes, do that. I was just thinking of that myself."

    Aiyen scratched his head.

    Vikir had indeed done so.

    Moving on his limp legs, he scooped up white dirt from the hills behind him and flew in stones from the hill opposite, cracking and breaking them to mix into the soil.

    Then he added water to make a dough, shaped it into a rectangle, baked it over a fire, and dried the bricks with hyena oil.

    The bricks were then used to form the base of the tent, making it even stronger.

    Even Aqu, who was initially annoyed at the extra work, was pleased with the results.

    "The ceiling won''t leak anymore. It was annoying that no matter how many leaves or hides I put on the ceiling, it would still leak, but it must have been the foundation."

    Aqu still didn''t pay much attention to Vikir.

    He merely ordered him to make his usual rounds around the chieftain''s barracks, observing, maintaining, and repairing the shabby things.

    Aiyen was unhappy that his ve should spend most of his time maintaining the chieftain''s barracks, but he didn''t protest.

    He just kept whimpering behind him as Vikir dug drainage ditches around Aqu''s barracks and set up gutters to keep leaves and dirt from piling up on top.

    "Hey, man. Are you okay working alone?"

    I''d say, and then do some nervous shuffling.

    "So, are we gonna do it alone or in a group?"

    which is usually followed by a few unintelligible words.

    "Hmmmm, do you enjoy your job? You''ve been working all day."

    "It''s the rainy season, you''re already digging gutters."

    "You don''t have this at home, do you? Eat it."

    "... The owner is talking to you, why don''t you answer him?"

    Vikir had been steadily ignoring him as a distraction from his work, but Aiyen continued to hover around him, disappearing for a moment and then reappearing.

    At this point, it was hard to tell who was master and who was ve.

    ...Puck! ...Puck! ...Puck! Thud!

    With lye and a bat, Vikir finished hisundry.

    He''d been a Pathfinder, a herbalist, a healer, a cook, an assassin, a cleaner, aundress, a cook, and everything in between from the youngest crawler in the field to a seasoned veteran, and his experience wasing in handy here.

    ''I know I keep using the Age of Destruction excuse, but... it was just as fierce.''

    Bikir took a moment to reminisce about the old days while doingundry.

    "...Khhhh. Hmmm, hmmm."

    Beside him, Aiyen, who had stepped forward to give a demonstration, hid her torn leather skirt behind her back as she watched.

    * * *

    ... Meanwhile.

    Vikir, whose experience of surviving the Age of Destruction has made him good at keeping to himself.

    But even he, who was quite content with a day in the life of a ve, much more so than he would have been in Baskerville or Underdog City, had one opponent who might be a little embarrassed.

    "Uh, cool."

    Her name was Aiyen, princess of the barbarian tribe of Bk.

    She was peeing in the drainage channel Vikir had dug earlier.

    "I''ve been holding it in for a long time."

    "...."

    "Ugh, master, are we supposed to watch you pee like that?"

    Aiyen was peeing with his legs open, right next to where Vikir was working.

    Vikir was dumbfounded and asked.

    "What are you doing?"

    "Marking the territory. This is my ve''s house, so it''s also mine."

    " ... doesn''t cover it?"

    "It''s not like there''s any shame in open excretion. There is no such thing in my tribe."

    Aiyen lifted her skirt further, as if to show him.

    Vikir covered her face with her hands and turned away.

    He remembered seeing a research paper on barbarian tribes once.

    "The barbarian tribes of the Red and ck Mountains practice free sexual intercourse among their members. Both men and women have no qualms about exposing their sexual organs to each other, as they must first know if the other person is capable of reproduction and does not carry a sexually transmitted disease before engaging in a rtionship."

    ''Did I mention ...?

    It was a real thing and a culture with its own reasons, so Vikir tried not to be prejudiced.

    "But don''t be cheap, at least around the house."

    "Why, didn''t your empire just throw feces out the window a few hundred years ago, and you wore these things called high heels because the streets were covered in filth, and you sprayed yourself with perfume."

    It was true enough.

    Vikir didn''t know what else to say, so he kept his mouth shut.

    As they chatted, the chores werepleted.

    Bk was a veryid-back ce when he wasn''t fighting or hunting, and the ever-diligent Vikir couldn''t help but think that life as a ve here was much morefortable than it would have been in Baskerville or Underdog City, where he had tobine training and work.

    Aiyen, however, had a strange look on her face.

    "Hey."

    "...?"

    "Don''t you want to officially be a member of our tribe as soon as possible?"

    What was he talking about?

    Vikir frowned, and Aiyen scooted closer to him and sat down.

    She was still spreading her legs wide enough that he could see through her skirt, so Vikir kept his gaze fixed upward.

    Aiyen said.

    "Not bad for a ve, huh?"

    "Not bad."

    "You''re getting a good education in speech, I suppose, though I dare notin from a ve''s point of view."

    "...No, it really isn''t that bad."

    "It can''t be bad, for all the hard, dirty work."

    Aiyen waved her hand in the air, not even wanting to think about cleaning or doingundry.

    "''Come on. Come with me."

    "...?"

    "I will help you. To help you fit in with this tribe."

    There''s no refusal when you''re already enved.

    Aiyen patted the leash still around Vikir''s neck.

    "If you''re good, I''ll take this off too."

    The offer is a bit tempting.

    As if I wasn''t already annoyed by this irritating rope at the corner of my neck.

    "...What can I do?"

    Vikir asks, and Aiyen answers with a twinkle in his eye.

    "Hunting."

    "...hunt?"

    "The big one."

    Apparently, you go hunting and catch big prey.

    The Hagiya, or Bk, are a tribe that umtes food primarily through hunting.

    To feed their nearly 300 members evenly, they need to consume a boar weighing over 200 kilograms a day.

    That''s if they''re able to supplement it with mushrooms, berries, and edible roots.

    In recent years, he says, warriors in his tribe have been eating nothing but mushrooms and berries for days at a time because they haven''t been able to find enough meat.

    "In times like these, if we can bring back arge chunk of meat, your freedom is not out of the question."

    Aiyen''s words gave Vikir a strange look.

    It was a bit ironic to hear the word "freedom" from a barbarian.

    But it wasn''t a bad offer.

    "All you have to do is assist me. Apparently you don''t have much trouble getting around or carrying light loads."

    Aiyen said with a gleam in her eye.

    It was impossible to tell if her intentions were truly to take down the big game, or if that was all she wanted.

    "Alright. Let''s go."

    But Vikir decided to go along with Aiyen''s suggestion for now.

    As a ve, he had no other choice.

    Vikir nodded, and Aiyen spoke immediately.

    "We will leave at dawn today."

    "I see, but why were youughing so hard earlier?"

    "What? When did Iugh?"

    Aiyenughs self-consciously, but when he hears Vikir''s words, he turns serious.

    ...Something about his attitude was a little suspicious.

 Chapter 55: The Hunter and the Hunted (1)

    <h4>Chapter 55: The Hunter and the Hunted (1)</h4>

    The Bk are a very warlike people by nature.

    It was clear that if you took war and hunting out of their lives, there probably wouldn''t be much left.

    As Vikir followed Aiyen to the entrance of the n, he reviewed what he knew about the Bk.

    ''Theirnguage has only about three hundred words, and most of them are nouns. Verbs are gestural, and there is no distinction between them and us when ites to possession. Men are ambo, women are akouati, love is aauki, death is utika...''

    The people of Bk viewed the empires as rude, devious, and pretentious.

    Conversely, the Imperials viewed the Bk as barbarians who screamed and punched at the slightest hint of anger.

    The people of Baskerville seemed to be somewhere in the middle, Vikir thought, between the civilized people of the Empire and the barbarians of the jungle.

    "I wonder if they''re vaguely resembling both sides of the border, never fully belonging to either.

    As Vikir pondered this to himself, the hunters of Bk gathered in a circle.

    Hunters, young and old, gathered in groups of three and four.

    Several mounted on the backs of wolves, bows and spears dangling.

    Only Aiyen had nopanions, just a wolf to ride and his ve, Vikir.

    "Gather round, hunters, it''s time for the ceremony."

    A crooked-looking old man came forward with a bowl of ck charcoal, which he smeared on the faces of the hunter-warriors.

    A series of tattoos peeked out from beneath his ck robes, suggesting he might be a shaman.

    "Go, all of you, with my blessing, or I will strike you down."

    The old shaman dipped a bowl of tan into the bowl and smeared it over the faces of all the hunters.

    The hunters of Bk feel guilty about killing their prey.

    So they smeared their faces with tar before killing, so as not to show their faces to the God of Death.

    But the younger hunters, including Aiyen, don''t seem to appreciate the ritual.

    "There you go again, that annoying b*tch."

    "Leave him alone. The shaman needs to make his mark."

    "By the way, don''t you think your fortune-telling is a little off?"

    "That''s why all they do nowadays are earrings for ears and nose rings for noses."

    All young people, regardless of time and ce, dislike and despise old customs and superstitions.

    With a look of annoyance, Aiyen stuck out her face and epted the old shaman''s charcoal-ck makeup.

    The old shaman rubbed the ck paint on Aiyen''s face a few times before moving on, which was quite sloppypared to what he did for the other warriors, and it was clear that he didn''t like her.

    Next, Aiyen slipped the spiked cor around his neck and handed it to Vikir.

    "Wear this to keep them from biting your neck."

    Vikir nodded.

    One by one, the hunters began to leave the vige.

    Knives sheathed, spears drawn, bows drawn, wolves herded, the tribe''s hunters departed.

    Vikir, the ve, made his own preparations.

    "While I''m here, I''ll have to blend in with them.

    He needed to renew his mindset.

    Vikir finally felt the urge and pulled down his pants to pee.

    He was going to start with something as basic as this and blend into the culture.

    ...So?

    When the people of Bk saw Bikir peeing, they began to freak out.

    The women covered their eyes and watched through their spread fingers, while the men gave him openlypetitive nces.

    Vikir was puzzled and asked.

    "What''s with all the stares? Isn''t everyone doing this?"

    Answers came from all over the ce.

    "...What are you talking about, who pisses in the middle of nowhere like that?"

    "Is that how they do it in the Empire? That''s barbaric."

    "We use separate restrooms."

    "Men over there, women over here."

    "You''re so ignorant, you should cover up."

    "How barbaric!"

    "What happened?"

    ....

    Vikir turned his head to look at Aiyen.

    Aiyen smirked, then quickly averted her gaze.

    * * *

    Aiyen climbed onto the wolf''s back.

    "Hold on tight."

    On her back, of course, was Vikir.

    Vikir hesitated for a moment, unsure of where to hold on, then squeezed the wolf''s fur.

    Then Aiyen reached back and pulled Vikir''s arm around her waist.

    "You have to hold on here. Tight. If you don''t, you''ll fall and break your neck."

    Vikir grasped Aiyen''s thighs with his hands. It was certainly wide enough to befortable to hold.

    But.

    ...Boom!

    The wolf took a single leap, and Vikir was sent tumbling to the ground.

    In agony, Vikir almost screamed.

    His bones, barely held together by Murcigo''s regenerative powers, twisted again.

    Riding a wolf was quite different from riding a horse.

    For one thing, there was no saddle and no mount.

    Furthermore, wolves had a much narrower waist than horses, and they moved more dynamically.

    Aiyen stopped the wolf and lowered himself to the ground.

    "Tsk, tsk, you should have wrapped your arms around my waist like that and held on with both hands. It''ll fall off if you hold it that gently."

    She smirked and patted her own waist, as if to say, "How am I supposed to vent without you holding it?

    Vikir was just about to rise from his seat.

    ...thud!

    A figure stepped in between Vikir and Aiyen.

    Ahun. He was riding a wolf, looking down at Vikir.

    The atmosphere immediately turns chilly.

    Aiyen crossed her arms in a look of displeasure.

    Bk''s hunterspete for every moment.

    Ahun is a warrior who has always been fond of Aiyen, and he will challenge her in this hunt.

    "This time," he says, "I''ll bring home the bigger prey. I''m going to be the captain of the next joint hunt, in my grandfather''s honor."

    "Why would you risk your grandfather''s honor on a hunt when all you know how to do is witchcraft? It''s your prerogative to do whatever you want."

    Aiyen didn''t confront Ahun.

    He merely jerked his chin toward Vikir across the way, urging him toe quickly.

    Vikir had just gotten to his feet and was about to make his way toward Aiyen.

    ...Puck!

    Vikir''s head snapped back.

    Ahun, riding on top of the wolf, had kicked him in the face with his foot.

    Vikir was still wounded, so he had no choice but to take the blow even though he knew it wasing.

    Thank goodness it wasn''t an attack of great force.

    The next moment, Aiyen was furious.

    "You bastard, what the...!?"

    Aiyen stepped forward, but she froze in ce.

    She nced back and forth between Vikir, who had fallen to the ground with a strange look in his eyes, and Ahun, who had gained momentum.

    Ahun flinched for a moment at Aiyen''s reaction, then breathed a sigh of relief.

    Then he looked at the fallen Vikir and sneered.

    "You''re using this weakling as a hunting aid. Get a grip, Captain. You''ll only get yourself in trouble."

    "You should look at your own backside before you say that ...."

    At Aiyen''s sarcastic remark, Ahun looked down at his waist.

    There was nothing there. Where there should have been a quiver full of arrows.

    "...!?"

    Ahun whipped his head around, furious.

    Vikir had somehow gotten up with his quiver and arrows.

    He had just swiped it from Ahun before he copsed.

    "''I owe the Age of Destruction again.''

    Before his regression, Vikir hadn''t really had a job he hadn''t done.

    The art of pickpocketinges in handy, too.

    "Weapons are like lovers. You use them when they''re taken away."

    Bikir''s gravement made Aiyen burst outughing and Ahun blush.

    "...you, you insolent ve!"

    Ahun drew his bowstring and struck Vikir in the shoulder.

    Boom!

    With a loud crack, Vikir fell to the ground.

    As if that wasn''t enough, Ahun climbed off the wolf''s back.

    Boom!

    The bowstring swung out once more.

    ...Boom!

    Ahun''s bow had to stop in midair.

    Aiyen had drawn an arrow and blocked Ahun''s bowstring.

    "That''s enough. Whose ve do you think you''re punishing?"

    Aiyen''s words were as cold and hard as frost.

    Ah Hun stammered out a retort.

    "He''s a ve, how dare he insult a Bk warrior!"

    "You showed your pathetic self first."

    "Nevertheless, he''s a ve, and a ve can never insult a warrior!"

    Ahun protested, citing the rules of the tribe.

    "...."

    Aiyen thought for a moment, then nodded.

    "Very well, a ve is a ve, and if he does something wrong, he must be punished."

    "Yes, Captain. That''s what I''m saying."

    "But you have no right to punish him, he''s my ve."

    "...?"

    The concept of private property is rare on Bk, but when ites to ves, the lines of ownership are pretty strict.

    When Ahun shook his head, Aiyen drove a wedge.

    "If there is to be a punishment, it will be mine."

    With that, Aiyen slid off the wolf''s back and stood in front of Vikir.

    And then.

    ...snap!

    Aiyen''s hand pped Vikir across the cheek.

    As Vikir fell to the ground, Aiyen continued to beat him.

    His fists curled like snakes, targeting his abdomen, waist, and legs.

    Vikir curled into a circle and endured Aiyen''s fists in silence.

    After a few minutes of this, Aiyen pulled back, breathing heavily.

    Then she red at Ahun with a cold stare.

    "Are we done?"

    "...."

    Ahun held his breath, as if he was embarrassed by Aiyen''s spanking, and then nodded in disbelief.

    Aiyen looked Ahun straight in the eyes.

    "I know you have a lot of personal grievances with my ve, falling off the wolf''s back, not being able to catch Saxi...."

    "...Yes."

    "After this time, if you do anything to my ve in private, you will be beaten like this. Do you understand?"

    Aiyen''s fist dripped with blood.

    His eyes were dark and flesh-colored.

    Ahun nodded his head a few times in confusion, then turned his bored gaze to Vikir on the floor.

    Vikir, who hadn''t screamed up until that point, was simply writhing quietly in ce.

    With that, Ahun climbed onto the wolf''s back and quickly disappeared.

    Only Aiyen and Vikir were left here again.

    Sigh...

    Aiyen creeped over and squatted down in front of Vikir.

    Vikir pushed himself to his feet.

    She stroked Vikir''s reddened cheeks with an unfathomable,plicated gaze.

    "...Were you hurt?"

    His tone had changed slightly, but maybe it was just his mood.

 Chapter 56: The Hunter and the Hunted (2)

    <h4>Chapter 56: The Hunter and the Hunted (2)</h4>

    "...."

    Vikir was speechless on the wolf''s back.

    Aiyen, riding in front of him, nced up and down the length of his back, watching him closely.

    "Did it hurt?"

    "...."

    "Are you angry?"

    "...."

    Aiyen turns his head all the way back to look at Vikir.

    To which Vikir only replies bluntly.

    "Look ahead."

    The wolf Aiyen was driving caught on a root and lurched once.

    Aiyen quickly jerked his head back to the front and drove the wolf on.

    All the while, he kept ncing back to see if Vikir was bothering him.

    At this point, it was hard to tell who was master and who was ve.

    Eventually, as the roots disappeared and a wide open in emerged, Aiyen slowed the wolf.

    He turned back to Vikir, still on the wolf''s back, and spoke.

    "I had no choice. Ahun is a stubborn, relentless creature, and this was the only way to prevent his petty retribution."

    "...."

    "...Why aren''t you talking, huh?"

    At his master''s continued prodding, Vikir replied shortly.

    "It hurts."

    And it did. The inside of his mouth is covered in crusts of blood, and it hurts just to open it.

    Then. Aiyen''s body flinched for a moment.

    She slowly turned her head to look at Vikir.

    "Does it hurt a lot?"

    Aiyen looked at Vikir''s neck.

    The white skin was smeared with red marks from the dog cor.

    "...."

    Aiyen stared at the mark for a moment.

    Then she bent her head toward Vikir and ran her tongue across the scar on his neck.

    Vikir jerked his head back in disgust, and Aiyen, for a moment, realizing what she had done, backed away in anger.

    Vikir frowned.

    ''Do barbarians normally lick each other''s wounds?

    ''Animals of the dog family do.

    Bk''s warriors are friendly with wolves, so this behavior may bemonce.

    But Vikir was a civilized man, and it was awkward.

    "Besides, licking the wound with your tongue is dangerous, as it leaves room for infection.

    So Bikir was prepared to firmly refuse if Aiyen tried to lick the wound on his neck again.

    However.

    "...."

    Aiyen doesn''t say anything, just tilts her head.

    For some reason, the tips of his pointed ears were colored bright red.

    * * *

    Like all Bk warriors, Aiyen was basically a simple person.

    Her spirits were quickly lifted when Vikir returned to his usual behavior, except that he was less talkative due to his illness.

    Now in a better mood, Aiyen offered Bikir a gift to apologize for her earlier p.

    "Is there anything you want from me, anything I can do for you that''s within my power, just tell me one thing."

    Bikir didn''t hesitate to answer.

    "Teach me how to shoot a bow."

    "...a. Bow."

    I wondered if he had something else on his mind. The answer came back a little muffled.

    Aiyen looked a little disappointed at Bikir''s immediate response.

    "Yeah. Bow is good. Bow...."

    Aiyen mumbled for a moment, then a grim smile curved his lips.

    "Good. Since we''re out hunting, I''ll teach you how to shoot a bow, too. You''re probably better with a bow than a sword anyway."

    With that, Aiyen moved behind Vikir and hugged him tightly against his chest.

    Aiyen''s body pressed tightly against his, the weight of it pressing down on Vikir''s spine.

    Vikir grunted through the pain.

    " ...Do I really have to learn in this position?"

    "It''s best to learn everything with your body. Do you have a problem with that?"

    It was hard for Vikir, whose body was broken, to resist.

    Then. Aiyen pulled out a spare bow and ced it in Vikir''s hand.

    The unfamiliar feel of it in his hand brought back memories for a moment.

    Vikir was quite proficient with a bow, as part of the education of the young hounds of Ironblood Baskerville was an introduction to armory.

    And the swordsmen of the Age of Destruction actually knew how to use almost every other weapon to some degree, not just swords.

    Vikir had already mastered the basics of archery.

    ...A minor, really.

    "But not enough to go out and show off.

    Before his regression, he''d been pretty good with a bow, but not to the point where he could actually use it inbat.

    At best, he could take down small prey that could be cleaned and eaten immediately.

    But here in Bk, where all the people are masters of the art of archery, he might be able to reach new heights.

    Is it the desire to take down the big prey?

    Aiyen had been teaching Vikir archery since the beginning of the day.

    "We''ll need the help of a wolf pup for this hunt."

    Aiyen was eager for this hunt.

    Bk''s 300 members need at least 200 kilograms of meat to survive the day.

    What''s more, the warriors'' recent hunting performance has been poor, and there are many people in the tribe who are starving.

    "Your life will be easier if you make your mark here."

    At Aiyen''s words, Vikir nodded.

    Just then.

    "...!"

    Aiyen''s wolf, Vakira, suddenly stopped running.

    It had spotted its prey.

    Aiyen bent down and grabbed a handful of dirt from where Vakira was sniffing.

    A mixture of rotting sawdust and fallen leaves, moss and sand.

    The soil was slightly damp, and it smelled sharp and raw.

    Aiyen said with conviction.

    "It must be oxbane."

    Vikir knew the creature Aiyen spoke of.

    <Oxbear>.

    Danger Rating: A

    Size: 5 meters

    Found in: Ridge 7, Red and ck Mountains

    -A veryrge bear with two huge horns.

    A carnivorous bear, the strongest terrestrial predator, and a perfect killing machine, it is considered the strongest and pinnacle of the Red and ck Mountains 7th Ridge ecosystem.

    It has few natural enemies, except for its own kind.

    The bear carries two water buffalo horns on its head.

    Its entire body is covered in thick muscle, fat, and bristly fur.

    A monster I had encountered many times before during my training within the n.

    However, the ones roaming around here now must possess a different level of strength and life force than the ones that were captured in the cages inside the n, waiting to be killed.

    "This must be their territory from here on out."

    Aiyen turned his head to follow the direction of the scent.

    Oxbears deliberately sprayed their poisonous urine to discourage prey and warn rivals.

    The scent would have sent any lesser predator running for cover, but not Aiyen, the hunting leader of the younger Bk.

    Vikir, too, had the calmposure of the worn and tattered hound he had been before his regression.

    Aiyen smirked at the sight.

    "Not scared?"

    "Not really."

    "It''s good to see you''ve got some balls for a kid from the Empire. An Oxbear is a threat to even the most experienced hunters of the Bk."

    Aiyen seemed to like Vikir''s demeanor all the more.

    Soon, Aiyen and Vikir were facing the wind, tracking the scent.

    Aiyen pursued his prey with animal instincts.

    Sometimes he could smell it better than Vakira, the wolf.

    Vikir, too, was skilled at tracking, but only when it came to fleeing humans.

    "Good chance.

    Vikir looked over his shoulder at Aiyen''s skilled monster tracking.

    And then.

    It wasn''t long before they spotted their target at the top of a rolling hillside lined with tall bushes and short shrubs.

    I see arge oxbear making its way through the brush.

    Two fiercely curved horns, fur far thicker and denser than I''d ever known, flesh and muscle clinging together in an impossibly tight knot.

    The oxbear, which appeared to be very old, stood about eight meters tall,rger than any oxbear Vikir had seen before his regression.

    "... That''s enough to raise my risk rating."

    When Vikir muttered that, he was done talking.

    It''s hard to go head-to-head with a creature of that size.

    It would have been better to back off now and move on to other prey.

    But Aiyen didn''t back down.

    "Let''s go after it."

    She clung to Vikir''s side.

    Vikir gritted his teeth against a faint ache.

    "A beast of that size will be hard to beat. Apparently he''s unusually strong for an oxbear."

    "Fool. Who said we''d catch him?"

    Vikir looked puzzled at Aiyen''sment.

    She replied with a smirk.

    "If there''s a female bear, there''s no shortage of male bears. Look."

    Before she could finish, a response came from beyond the thicket.

    Another oxbear had approached the previous oxbear.

    Apparently, the giant oxbear that Vikir and Aiyen had first spotted was a female.

    The new male oxbear was rtively small.

    It was barely over four meters tall at best, and must have weighed nearly twice as much.

    Could she be in heat?

    As the female oxbear moves her massive body, the male oxbear sneaks up on her and sniffs her fur.

    Then he starts nuzzling her chest and back.

    "Okay, that''s the real prey."

    Aiyen grinned and pressed Vikir''s chest and back against the bush.

    Vikir watched the grooming of the male and female oxbears and felt the strength of Aiyen''s grip on his arms.

    Passasac...

    Hidden in the bushes, Aiyen''s body pressed closer to Vikir''s.

    His breath, wet and hot, brushed against his earlobe.

    The skin of every inch of her body, toned and soft, pressed against Vikir''s back.

    The pounding of her heart against his back made him tense up like an athlete.

    Naturally, Vikir could only think one thought.

    "That''s a lot of weight.

 Chapter 57: The Hunter and The Hunted (3)

    <h4>Chapter 57: The Hunter and The Hunted (3)</h4>

    "When there are sows, there are no shortage of bulls."

    Vikir understood now why Aiyen had said this.

    Vikir and Aiyen are currently lurking in front of a den deep in the jungle.

    The den they are watching closely contains arge female oxbear and a small male oxbear.

    The two oxbears have been mating nonstop for three days.

    The female''s strength and desire were immense.

    She blocked the entrance to the nest with her huge beak and pushed down on the exhausted male to prevent him from escaping.

    He, too, had good seeds and was able to satisfy her intense thirst for a couple of days, but by the third day he was running out of strength and often made dying noises.

    Females are the strongest of their kind, and their appetites are unusually voracious.

    She had a long hibernation ahead of her, so she didn''t let go of him for a moment to make sure she was going to get pregnant and hibernate.

    When he gives it all out and spreads out, she climbs on top of him, grooms him all over, and brings him back to his feet.

    And then she''d do it all over again, over and over again.

    Vikir sighed softly.

    "I don''t know what I''m doing."

    Vikir''s arms are filled with the carp, salmon, berries, mushrooms, and other things he''s just caught.

    Aiyen, too, had gathered up various supplies andid them out in front of the cave.

    These were not for Vikir and Aiyen to eat. They were for the oxbears mating in that den.

    They had been helping the oxbears mate for the past three days.

    When a hungry female came out to forage for food, Aiyen and Vikir would provide her with these small bits of food so that she could mate as quickly and as often as possible.

    The female oxbear would carefully examine them for poison, then take them back to the males and feed them to restore their strength.

    Aiyen smiled wryly.

    "Those berries and mushrooms are a short-term boost. But in the long run, they''re terrible for you. They raise the body''s heat rapidly and then drop it rapidly again."

    Vikir knew the benefits of those ingredients.

    Taking them makes you temporarily stronger, but it saps and burns your life force, which is not good for your health.

    And the female Oxbear seemed to know this and still take them.

    The male Oxbear also seems to recognize the benefits of these mushrooms and berries, but he can''t do much to satisfy her needs right now.

    He can only eat.

    Sometimes during the feeding, if Vikir identally left a scent or a trail, the female oxbear woulde out of her den, alert and wary.

    She was old and had poor eyesight, but her ears seemed to make up for it.

    [Crouch!]

    She tore at the thick logs around her with her ws and pulled rocks apart.

    A giant tree that must have been hundreds of years old was snapped in half, and the rocks that supported the small hill were shattered.

    After ravaging the area for a while, the female, satisfied that there were no more signs of intruders around her, went back into the den and climbed on top of the exhausted male.

    Vikir, hiding behind a bush, muttered quietly.

    "I don''t know if it''s a warning to the intruder or the male."

    Such a disy of strength would scare off the intruder, but it would also make it impossible for a cowardly male to escape.

    Vikir now understood why Aiyen had chosen arge, powerful female to pursue first.

    The stronger andrger the female, the more likely she was to be able to keep the male at a distance.

    Meanwhile.

    Lurking hunters need to eat, too.

    Aiyen calcted the direction of the wind and set about making a meal that would not carry the scent to the oxbears.

    Clear water boiled in a coconut shell with crayfish from the waterfall. The only other additions were a handful of salt and a bunch of dried seaweed.

    Aiyen offered Vikir some of his clear water.

    He pushed all the lobsters, even the plump ones, in front of Vikir.

    It was a sight that made it hard to tell who was the master and who was the ve.

    "Eat a lot, so you can feel better."

    Aiyen shoved a considerable amount of food in front of Vikir''s nose.

    Vikir thought she looked a bit like a camel.

    ...Pow!

    The red lobster''s body snaps in half.

    The hard shell cracked open, revealing plump white flesh.

    The yellow and blue guts were steaming hot.

    Vikir chewed on the crayfish''s head.

    "By the way, they mate like crazy."

    For three days, the oxbears barely left their burrows.

    The constant vibrations of the burrow and the mingled moans of the males and females inside must have been exhausting for those who had been watching for three days.

    Aiyen''s eyes light up with mischief at Vikir.

    "Isn''t that what you deserve?"

    "...what?"

    "I thought all Bk men were supposed to do that, but not Imperial men?"

    Vikir frowned.

    Aiyen''s words were so unreliable after what had happened.

    Hadn''t he once taken her word for it and pissed in the middle of nowhere and been humiliated by his tribe?

    But Aiyen continues to tease Vikir.

    "You can''t do that?"

    "...."

    "Well, maybe you can''t because youe from thend of the sandman."

    "Who''s a sandman."

    "Then can you do that?"

    "...."

    "Can you do it? Can you do it?"

    Aiyen was getting annoying.

    Vikir knew that getting caught up in her pace would be a headache, so he chose to ignore herpletely.

    What a cheeky ve.

    ... Just then.

    [CRACK!]

    A cry unlike any other erupted.

    "...!"

    The yfulness drained from Aiyen''s face.

    She bounced to her feet, quickly grabbed her bow and arrow, and began to peer over the bush.

    The yful seventeen-year-old girl of just moments ago was nowhere to be seen.

    Only the sharp-shooting hunter remained.

    [Grrrr...]

    Baqira, Aiyen''s partner wolf, had bared her teeth as well.

    Vikir, too, dropped his lobster ws and rose to his feet, crouching beside Aiyen.

    Amotion was from the den containing the two oxbears.

    [Gwooow! Gwooow! Gwooow!]

    The female, who had been gentle with the male up until this point, gagged a few times and suddenly changed her demeanor.

    She bared her teeth at him and threatened him with her hidden nails.

    The male was taken aback by her sudden change in demeanor, but remained lying on the ground, apparently trusting his bond with her.

    He seems to want to stay in his big, cozy nest for a while longer.

    But she wasn''t about to let him keep squirming and pressing against her.

    ...Bam!

    A dull noise.

    The female mmed her front paw with the force of several tons.

    Teeth snapped and blood spurted.

    A p on the ear jolted the male to his feet.

    He scrambled out of the den on shaky legs.

    Aiyen called out in triumph.

    "Looks like the female is convinced that she''s fertile."

    Now that she''s sessfully conceived, she doesn''t need to squeeze the male''s seeds.

    It''s a world of carnivorous bears.

    After mating, the opposite sex is simply apeting predator that has invaded their territory.

    [Boom!]

    The female roared once more at the fleeing male. The male is confused and scrambling for his life.

    The male scurries away from the female''sir in a daze.

    To avoid being eaten, he had to run away as fast as he could while she wasn''t in a bad mood.

    His legs are shaking and his movements are slurred and slippery.

    Her fur was matted and had lost much of its shine.

    His nose and eyes were dry, and all the fat that had once been plump on his back, belly, nks, and thighs had been burned away.

    His cheeks were already visibly puffy from the p he had just received.

    And at the sight of such a male oxbear, the eyes of Aiyen, the hunter of the Bk, glittered.

    "Follow me, ve."

    "...."

    Aiyen, a male oxbearer, and Vikir, a ve to his mistress.

    This was the beginning of the real hunt.

 Chapter 58: The Hunter and the Hunted (4)

    <h4>Chapter 58: The Hunter and the Hunted (4)</h4>

    Aiyen and Vikir tracked the oxbear male with caution.

    It was obvious that his nerves were as sharp as his body was weakened. This was evident by the water scattered in his path.

    "You have to take advantage of the moment when your target is as weak as possible."

    Vikir nodded as Aiyen applied frog venom to his arrowhead.

    ...When is the enemy most fragile?

    It''s when they''re sleeping, especially after several vigorous coptions.

    Aiyen looked at the oxbear feces on the floor and nodded.

    "Judging by the viscosity and consistency, he''s in very bad shape."

    "He''ll probably sleep soundly tonight."

    "Of course he will, he hasn''t slept a wink for the past three days and is drained of energy. He''ll probably retreat to a dark, deep corner where he doesn''t normally go."

    Aiyen was right.

    The oxbear was aware of its condition, and it was heading deeper and deeper into the dense floodwaters.

    Dense jungle. Fallen trees hung between the living, creating a maze of trees.

    The leaves were turning red and yellow, making it difficult to discern direction.

    Tracking the animals was made even more difficult by the fact that their tracks could be washed away in as little as half a day if it rained.

    But Aiyen never loses sight of his target.

    The way the branches bend, the way the grass is trampled, the depth of the soil, the chirping of the grasshoppers around him.

    To a seasoned hunter, these are all signposts.

    "Where an oxbear has passed, you won''t hear a mouse or insect for a while."

    As if in agreement, the wolf Bakira lets out a low howl.

    Bakira had been tracking a scent from earlier, the faint scent of sweet-smelling berries, a faint scent that the human nose could not detect.

    The scented berries had been stuffed into the stomachs of carp and salmon by the Aiyen and tossed to Oxbear as food.

    So that Oxbear would breathe it in and carry it with him everywhere he went.

    "...."

    Meanwhile, Vikir had watched the Aayen''s skillful tracking from start to finish.

    Some parts he didn''t know, some parts he did.

    What he knew, he would review; what he didn''t know, he would learn.

    Then.

    Up in the trees, Aiyen looked down at the forest at the bottom of the hill and stretched out a finger.

    Sure enough, there it was, a male oxbear stumbling along.

    He could probably catch it if he pounced on it right now, but he was cautious nheless.

    "Well, we''ll have to put off the hunt for a while."

    "Why is that?"

    Vikir asked, and Aiyen grunted and frowned.

    "That oxbear has crossed the borders of the swamp. There are scary creatures that live in the swamp, so we can''t go in there."

    " Scary creatures?"

    Vikir was about to ask what it was.

    ...Mate!

    Aiyen''s two palms flew out and pped Vikir on both cheeks.

    The cheeks flushed red in an instant. As Vikir stood there dazed, Aiyen smirked.

    "This is the creature."

    Aiyen held out one palm in front of Bikir.

    In the center of his palm was a dead mosquito.

    Bakira, the wolf, growled lowly and pawed at the mosquito''s corpse in warning.

    Aiyen warned with a serious expression.

    "There are three types of mosquitoes in that swamp. One is the blood-sucking mosquito. These are not very threatening. But... bone-sucking mosquitoes and flesh-sucking mosquitoes, you have to be careful."

    This was something Vikir knew as well.

    Of all the mosquitoes in the waters of the Red and ck Mountains, the bone-suckers were the most dangerous.

    They swarm over anything that moves, turning the body of a living creature into a leather bag of blood and guts in an instant.

    In fact, Vikir had seen what the bone-sucking mosquitoes had done to a colleague a few times before, so he understood the gravity of Aiyen''s situation.

    ...But there''s one thing he doesn''t understand.

    "But. Why won''t you take your hand away from your cheek?"

    Aiyen''s other hand was still on Bikir''s cheek.

    Aiyen flinched slightly at Bikir''s question, but then answered in a brusque manner.

    "Do I have to take it off?"

    Aiyen was now openly pinching the flesh of Bikir''s cheek.

    Bikir frowned.

    "...What are you doing?"

    "Why, I''m the master. Do you have a problem with me touching mine?"

    Bikir''s mouth was half open in disbelief.

    But it would be futile to rebel against Aiyen now, not when he was so ill.

    "You''re so soft."

    "...."

    So I''ll just have to put up with this humiliating childish treatment for a while.

    * * *

    On the night.

    Aiyen settled down on the cliffside directly overlooking Oxbear''s burrow.

    "They''ll strike at first light tomorrow."

    Oxbear is nocturnal, so fighting him now would be a disadvantage.

    It was wisest to strike when the sun rose and he fell asleep.

    Aiyen and Vikir built a simple hut on a solid rocky area.

    A few branches, a leather cloth, and some broad leaves made a tentrge enough for three or four people.

    Blow into it and white smoke billows out.

    This is what the indigenous people of Bk call the "cold valley," a valley where even in May, the snow still hasn''t melted.

    "It''s so cold here, even the mosquitoes can''te."

    Aiyen climbed into the tent andy down.

    He lifted his leathers and turned to Bikir, who stood outside the tent.

    "Come in here."

    "...."

    Bikir was silent for a moment.

    He looked around and saw the harshness of the environment.

    The ground is cold and the soil is bad.

    Trees couldn''t grow much, so where they had grown and died, only bushes and weeds sprouted in their ce.

    With short shrubs rising up like a grate, it was not a bad ce to camp for the night, as long as you were careful of the cold.

    Rustle...

    Vikir stepped inside the tent.

    Aiyen had dug a shallow pit in the new floor and piled leaves and swordfire in it.

    Crackle!

    A small fire blossomed.

    The light from the teepee warmed the confined space.

    True to its name, the valley became very cold at night.

    His face and arms were hot in front of the fire, but his back, head, legs, and toes were immediately icy.

    Beyond the crackling embers, Vikir thought of many things.

    The friends andpanions he''d left behind in the Age of Destruction, all those faces.

    People he could see again whenever he chose, people he would never see again.

    Meanwhile, in the sea of fog outside the tent, dead trees, like human bones, rose and sank.

    Vikir is lost in thought over the dying embers of the fire.

    "Boom!"

    A sound breaks his reverie.

    He turns to find Aiyen buried in Bakira''s fur, inhaling something.

    It was a strong liquor, so strong that you could tell its strength by the smell alone.

    From a leather pouch, Aiyen smoked a wide slice of jerky, thered in white fat, and ate it as ate-night snack.

    It looked like buttered bread, but the vor and calorie count would be far different.

    After a long pause, Aiyen looked back at Vikir.

    "You should eat it, it''s good for you."

    "...I don''t have jerky."

    Vikir replied, and Aiyen waved his hand dismissively.

    "Oh well. Don''t worry. It is a master''s virtue to provide for his ves. I''ve even brought you your share."

    "...?"

    Vikir cocked his head.

    Aiyen''s leather pouch had contained only one piece of jerky.

    It had just gone into her mouth.

    Just in time.

    ...Jaw!

    Aiyen cupped both of Vikir''s cheeks in her palms.

    Then she shoved her face into his.

    "...!"

    Vikir didn''t even have time to protest.

    Aiyen kissed Vikir on the mouth, spilling the liquor and jerky in his mouth.

    Gulp!

    Vikir swallowed the liquor and meat in one gulp.

    "Fuha!"

    Only then did Aiyen pull her face away from Vikir''s.

    She stroked his chin with the back of her hand and smirked.

    "You can''t chew this jerky with your current jaw. It''s very tough."

    "...I''m sure it is."

    Vikir frowns.

    The jerky that remained in his mouth was so tough that he had to draw on his mana to chew it.

    With Ahun''s beating, Vikir hadn''t been able to eat anything other than porridge or tree berries, so this was a nice (?) nourishment.

    Suddenly.

    Aiyen''s eyes widened.

    Somehow, she had ended up sitting on top of Vikir.

    In the cramped confines of the tent, Vikir could do little more than struggle beneath her.

    Aiyen''s face is flushed red from the firelight.

    She stares down at Vikir with an oddly heated smile.

    "You can''t even rebel, can you?"

    "Because it''s heavy."

    "It''s not heavy."

    "I said it''s heavy."

    "I''m not heavy."

    "I said I''m heavy."

    Aiyen was silent for a moment, thinking hard about something, and then he said.

    "It''s not that I''m heavy, it''s that you''re weak."

    With that, Aiyen smiled a smile that seemed strangely pleased.

    Vikir saw it and gave up on the conversation.

    Maybe it''s thenguage, but he can''t read her emotions right now.

    "The first thing I need to do is recover quickly.

    He had to if he didn''t want to be manipted.

    If I could regain my strength, I could easily subdue this little fellow and leave the jungle.

    And the best way to do that was to sleep.

    Vikir closed his eyes.

    Aiyen leaned in close enough to touch his face with the tip of her nose.

    "Are you itchy? Put your hand here. It''s the ce with the most heat. In return, I''ll put my hand on yours...."

    As Bikir''s hand slid between my chest and armpit, Aiyen paused to drape her body over his.

    Aiyen''s expression quickly turns to bewilderment.

    "...are you asleep?"

    The answer came back, too scared to speak.

    Doron-.

    Vikir had fallen asleep in that brief moment.

    He can fall asleep in less than a second when he lies down, a skill that has been practiced by martial artists throughout the Age of Destruction.

    "...Huh!"

    Aiyen pouted her lips in disbelief.

    She slid off Vikir''s body as if offended andy down beside him.

    Then she rolled over and crossed her arms, her own hands trapped between his chest and armpits.

    "Hmph. How dare you be insolent. A dull ve, inconsiderate of his master."

    Aiyen continued to grumble.

    Only Bakira, the wolf with her ears to the ground, is looking at Aiyen with a pitying gaze.

    "What is it, why are your eyes open like that?"

    [Grrrr-]

    "What! What! I was just cold, I wasn''t trying to do anything else...."

    Just as Aiyen and Bakira were about to argue.

    ...Bam!

    Vikir, who thought he was sleeping, instantly jumped up.

    The momentum was enough to make even Aiyen and Bakira flinch in surprise.

    "Uh, uh, you didn''t sleep...?"

    Before Aiyen could open her mouth, Vikir spoke.

    "It''sing."

    Something clicked in his senses that hadn''t been there for a moment.

    Suddenly, Aiyen''s and Bakira''s expressions stiffened.

    Suddenly, an inexplicable wail rips through the night.

    [Krrrrrr!]

    The oxbear male had attacked this way first.

 Chapter 59: The Hunter and the Hunted (5)

    <h4>Chapter 59: The Hunter and the Hunted (5)</h4>

    s.

    Vikir scrambled to his feet.

    His bones screamed at his unhealed joints, but he had no choice.

    If he didn''t move now, he would be killed.

    Boom!

    The tent I had built shredded like tissue paper.

    It was the Oxbear''s powerful ws that tore through the night.

    Aiyen chuckled in amusement.

    "You were lured, weren''t you, you sneaky thing?"

    A male oxbear. Even if he was only half the size of the female, he was still a veryrge carnivore, standing over four meters tall and weighing over a ton.

    This seasoned beast already knew it was being tracked.

    That''s why it had waited to strike while it was weak.

    Aiyen quickly grabbed his bow and arrows and retreated to the outside of the tent.

    Bakira, the wolf, crouched low beside her master, snarling.

    Aiyen studied the oxbear before him.

    "I see you were chosen by the old female for a reason."

    The giant female Oxbear before him had been very picky about her second year, and he was a little puzzled as to why she had chosen this one, who was unusually small among the many males, to be her mate.

    If it was simply because she didn''t want to be attacked after mating, there were plenty of other smaller males avable.

    But now I understood.

    She wanted his cunning intelligence toplement her superior physicality.

    [Grunt!]

    The oxbear lunged at her with two massive horns and both front paws.

    Aiyen climbed onto Bakira''s back and quickly nocked an arrow to his bowstring.

    Ping-!

    Two arrows fly, aiming for the Oxbear''s face.

    The oxbear ducked his head and lifted his horns up, so they couldn''t hit him in the face.

    The arrows then deflected in midair as if they were alive, striking Oxbear in both shoulders.

    Indeed, Bk''s archery was the best on the continent, and Aiyen''s was the best of all.

    Karak- Karak- Karak- Karak

    Aiyen strung multiple arrows from a single bow.

    Unusually, Bk''s bow has multiple nocks.

    The arrows on each of these nocks can be staggered and fired back-to-back, or they can be fired all at once.

    Puff, puff, puff!

    Ai Yan fired arrow after arrow, barely pausing to breathe.

    The time it took for the first arrow to fly, followed by the second, third, fourth, fifth, and so on, was a blink of an eye.

    A truly monstrous rate of fire.

    Of course, pulling five arrows at once requires a ridiculous amount of arm strength.

    The enormous tension required was covered by Aiyen''s low-level Gradient mana.

    [Grrrr!]

    The rain of arrows slowed Oxbear''s charge.

    Each of Aiyen''s arrows was so powerful that even the oxbear''s thick muscles and furry hide could not defend against them.

    What''s more, Aiyen''s arrows didn''t just travel in a straight line.

    She shot them upward, sideways, and sometimes even backward.

    Arrows that went up would fall in a parabolic arc and hit the top of the head, while those that went sideways would curve back and hit the side.

    Arrows that flew backwards even hit trees and rocks, sending grenades flying.

    Moreover, the arrows carried a powerful aura.

    Oxbear had no idea how troublesome this aura would be.

    ...Puck! Puck!

    Oxbear ducked behind a bush to avoid the flying arrow.

    The brambles were quite thick, and he thought they would block the arrows.

    But.

    "A good arrow will pierce steel if it wants to, but it will not pierce a leaf if it does not want to."

    Aiyen recalled a lesson she had heard from her mother and chief, Aqu.

    Next, she let loose an arrow, which struck the high bush where the oxbear was hiding.

    Poof!

    Surprisingly, the arrow, traveling at such high speeds, didn''t hit the bramble and bounce back.

    Instead, the arrow''s aura left the arrowhead and soaked into the brush.

    And then.

    Boom!

    The oxbear hiding behind the bramble spewed blood from its neck.

    [Crunch!]

    Pration.

    The intangible energy from the arrowhead went beyond the barren tree and gouged into the oxbear''s body behind it.

    Vikir gasped at the sight.

    "Indeed, that is the archery of the Bk!

    A ridiculous archery skill, capable of killing even an enemy behind cover.

    But the skilled hunters of Bk actually do it.

    Vikir had moved mana to shatter a table and the sses on it without destroying it, but he didn''t know if it could be applied to flying arrows.

    "If it can be done... it would allow for more precise aura control.

    Vikir lifted his head again and looked at Aiyen.

    Seventeen years old and a Gradient junior.

    Even in Baskerville, where only geniuses live, I''ve never seen a prodigy this young.

    In terms of talent alone, he could probably rival or surpass even Morg''s camo.

    ...But.

    It was the oxbear that made even Aiyen nervous.

    An immature, small male, weak after a prolonged mating.

    But even so, the Danger Rank A beast was strong.

    Aiyen gritted her teeth as she realized she was almost out of arrows.

    Vakira, the wolf who had been his steadypanion, was also exhausted.

    It''s cold, the terrain is simple, and it''s a moonless night, making visibility difficult.

    Now, with all the advantage, Oxbear is ready for the final blow.

    The oxbear''s typical attack pattern consists of a horn charge followed by arge swing of its front paws.

    But it''s the tooth attack that follows these two moves that really makes the difference.

    [He-aaaah!]

    The oxbear charged with all its might, opening its wide arms to embrace both Aiyen and Bakira at once.

    Its dagger-like jaws were lined with teeth, ready to rip Aiyen''s head off.

    "What do we do, we''re running out of arrows, do we retreat, or do we make onest gamble...?

    As Aiyen contemted his next move.

    Something happened that neither Aiyen, Vakira, nor even Oxbear sawing.

    "Move."

    Vikir. He had appeared.

    Vikir, an unwee intruder into the battle.

    He was perched on top of a tall branch.

    Then Vikir kicked off the branch and leaped, falling straight down to Oxbear.

    "Ow! What are you doing!"

    Aiyen was horrified. What Vikir was doing seemed to her to be nothing less than suicide.

    But then.

    As Vikir leapt from the tree, he clutched a handful of arrows.

    And surprisingly, Oxbear didn''t react much to the sight of Vikir falling.

    That''s because Bikir''s jump was to the left.

    Not long before, the male Oxbear had received a p on the cheek while moping around in the female''s den after mating, and his left eye was swollen shut.

    It was an exquisite dig to fill the blind spot.

    And then.

    ...Poof!

    Several arrows in Vikir''s grasp pierced Oxbear''s left eye at once.

    Chiiiit-

    The sound of fat boiling, the smell of burning meat was unmistakable.

    The arrowheads had been loaded with Aiyen''s mana not long ago, and were heated to the limit.

    The hot shards of iron tore through the oxbear male''s swollen snowball flesh, popping his tender eyeball and sending the bundle of nerves inside scrambling.

    [Aaahhhhhh!]

    Oxbear''s scream changed slightly.

    Its roar, once a mixture of hatred and contempt, was now tinged with fear.

    Vikir snatched the arrows out of her hand and dropped to the ground.

    "...thud!"

    The mere act ofnding on the ground seems to shatter his entire body.

    The oxbear loomed in front of him, its enormous body looming over him.

    Aiyen gasped in horror.

    "No!"

    She quickly fired an arrow, but it only pierced some of the oxbear''s strong back muscles.

    Vakira the wolf lunged and bit her hind paws, but Oxbear was unperturbed.

    [Argh!]

    Blinded by rage and fear, Oxbear opened his mouth in a guttural roar.

    No horns, no front paws, just teeth! The Oxbear''s true breath attack flew toward Vikir.

    And the expression on Vikir''s face as he faced it could not have been more serene.

    "...."

    This is not a death wish.

    He''s gauging whether his body can handle the technique he''s about to use.

    "Come out."

    Bikir ordered in a low voice, and the faithful hound bared its teeth.

    ...Poof!

    A ck awl pierced the artery in Vikir''s wrist.

    The magic sword, Beelzebub, had been unleashed!

    Whirring.

    With the sound of a fly''s wings, Beelzebub revealed his appetite for the giant hunk of meat in front of him.

    And with that, one of the powerful forces trapped within Beelzebub''s three orbs exploded through the tip of his sword.

    <The Gluttonous Fly ''Beelzebub''> / Awl

    -1 slot: Burn �C Cerberus(A+)

    Cerberus. The three-headed dog that symbolizes Hell itself.

    Roar!

    The oil-based mes, which could not be extinguished by water,bined with the aura of Beelzebub''s de and exploded.

    Fueled by the oils of hell, the mes burned endlessly unless their master''s will was extinguished.

    The fiery hound''s teeth sank back into Oxbear''s gaping mouth.

    [Cackle!?]

    Oxbear stopped charging.

    His eyes, blinded by rage and fear, finally opened to the reality of the situation.

    ...What the hell is that?

    I thought it was just some human blood, but it wasn''t.

    What you see before you is a gigantic apex predator, the presence of a high-ranking demon that you dare notpare to, the fangs of a monster that belongs in the deepest hells of the Netherworld.

    Wherever it has been lying in ambush, the creature that has just bared its teeth is upon you, bringing untold pain and terror.

    ...Quack!

    A short, guttural sound.

    The awl that sprouted from Vikir''s wrist shot out and pierced the oxbear''s mouth.

    First, it pierced the hanging tongue, then the gums, then the pte, and finally the brain in the skull.

    To make matters worse, the tip of the awl emitted a terrifying me.

    The most terrible pain in the world: burning pain.

    It was boiling the brains in Oxbear''s skull to a crisp.

    [Gah!]

    Oxbear let out a near-terminal scream.

    Vikir''s attack was short, but intense.

    The oxbear was still clinging to life with its characteristic toughness and regenerative powers, but that was all.

    No, that wasn''t all.

    In thest moments of its life, Oxbear leaned its massive body toward Vikir.

    Vikir struggled to move from the pain he felt throughout his body.

    Even in death, Oxbear intended to use his massive body to crush Vikir to death.

    But.

    Pow!

    At that moment, Aiyen threw his whole body and grabbed Vikir.

    Bakira the wolf scooped up Aiyen and Vikir with her fluffy back and stepped back.

    "Are you okay!?"

    Aiyen''s eyes widened, scanning Vikir''s entire body.

    Vikir nodded with difficulty.

    At the same time.

    ...thud!

    The Oxbear giant''s head mmed into the ground.

    Thest words of a male who, only moments before, had been frantically mating with a female in the cozy confines of his den, could he have imagined such an end?

    In the jungle, where looting, death, and love mixed together.

    ...The downfall!

    Aiyen pulled Vikir into a hug.

    She hastily tore off the few strips of cloth that covered them, shouting, "Tell me!

    "Tell me if you''re going to die! We need to get the seeds out of ...!"

    Vikir couldn''t help but sigh at the sess of the hunt.

 Chapter 60: The Protagonist of Hunting (1)

    <h4>Chapter 60: The Protagonist of Hunting (1)</h4>

    The Plunder Festival.

    A great festival was held in the vige of Bk.

    In fact, every day is a celebration for the Bk, but on a day like today, when meat is plentiful, it''s unusually loud.

    When the vines are cut, clear water pours out and pools in arge stone pot.

    Into the boiling water were thrown lobsters, freshwater crabs, zaras, turtles, carp, catfish, venison, rabbit, squirrel, snake meat, caterpirs, beetles, ants, frogs, lizards, water grass, berries, mushrooms, and tree roots.

    A huge stone pot bubbled in the center of the vige.

    All the small game that Bk''s hunters have gathered is thrown into it, simmering into a rich broth.

    Everyone in the vige gets a fair share of the broth.

    Larger prey, such as deer and boar, were roasted separately around the stone fire.

    Everyone would gather around theserge hunks of meat, singing and dancing merrily.

    In the midst of all the noise and excitement, it was a huge hunk of meat in the center of the vige, even bigger than the stone oven, that caught everyone''s attention the most.

    An oxbear, a giant, six-legged beast weighing a ton.

    Without the bones and fur, the pure meat weighs over 800 kilograms.

    This giant hunk of meat was the star of today''s hunt.

    Naturally, the hunter who captures the oxbear earns the respect, admiration, and gratitude of all the vigers.

    That would be Aiyen and Vikir.

    "How does it feel to be a hero, ve?"

    Vikir didn''t say much in response to Aiyen''s question.

    She smiled and patted Vikir on the back.

    "An oxbear is a very honorable prey. They''re strong and fierce, but they''re also intelligent, unlike boars, whose eyes are dark, whose movements are slow and simple, and who are so scared they shit and scream when they run."

    Aiyen shouted as loudly as he could, hoping someone would hear him.

    Then he heard grunting and grunting from beyond the campfire where the meat was roasting.

    It was Ahun, who had killed a fairlyrge boar.

    "... Holy sh*t. I don''t know how a dying creature could have gotten away with this. He must have gotten incredibly lucky."

    Ahun spat once on the ground and red at Vikir.

    Then Ahun picked up his knife and cut the oxbear''s meat into small pieces.

    The entrails and blood are perishable, so he immediately puts them in a pot of water to boil, and the flesh is cut into small pieces for fair distribution.

    Ahun then handed the meat to the vigers lined up in a row, and then to Vikir, who stood behind him.

    ...?

    Vikir''s expression frowned slightly as he epted the meat.

    The size and weight of the pieces of meat given to Vikir were dwarfed by those given to the others.

    Even less than what the frail old men and sniveling children had received.

    Vikir raised his head to protest.

    "What are you doing?"

    "...?"

    Then Ahun looked up, annoyed. A puzzled look on his face.

    Rather disgusted, he retorted.

    "What are you talking about, you ve?"

    "Why is my meat so little?"

    "What? No wonder. Because your honor is so high!"

    Ahun bellowed.

    Vikir gave him a puzzled look, and Aiyen, beside him, broke out into a wide grin.

    "It is a Bk tradition. The one who contributes the most to the hunt takes the least. In return, he receives an amount of honor equal to the lesser meat. If you can trade honor for meat, you have a great deal."

    Ahun nodded in agreement.

    "Damn. Part of me wants to give you a lot of meat, too! But you gotta give credit where credit is due."

    Judging by his grumbling, he really does want to give Vikir a lot of meat.

    Well, the less meat he gets, the more honorable he is.

    Vikir decided that meat was better than honor that was worthless, but for now he could only nod.

    ''It doesn''t really matter.

    Though the meat was scarce, there was enough food to fill his stomach if he so desired.

    In fact, the real harvest of this hunt was not meat.

    <Gluttonous Fly ''Beelzebub''> / Awl

    -1 slot: Burn �C Cerberus (A+)

    Slot -2: Sacral Spine �C Oxbear (A)

    Slot -3: Tight Throat �C Infernal Buffalo(A)

    New skills gained from capturing Oxbear.

    One of the three orbs of the magic sword Beelzebub is imbued with the hardy soul of the male Oxbear you killedst night.

    The Hellhound''s soul is gone, and the spirit of the stronger, higher-ranked Oxbear is Vikir''s new ve.

    The skill of Sacral Spine was simple and effective.

    By holding your breath, you could increase your weight by nearly a thousand pounds (600 kilograms) in that time.

    It''s a pretty versatile skill for closebat.

    Not only that, but the karma from killing the Oxbear was infused into his body, restoring a significant amount of health to his entire body.

    Skills and experience.

    Vikir was mentally calcting the results of this hunt.

    "C''mon, Ahun. That''s quite a kill, don''t you think?"

    Aiyen broke Vikir''s reverie.

    She had brought several kilograms of foreleg meat, a jar of blood, and the heart, liver, and galldder that were Vikir''s share of the bounty, reserved for the best hunters.

    Aiyen lifted the meat and waved it in front of Vikir''s eyes.

    Narrowing her eyes, she spoke with a burdened air.

    "Just as important as the hunt is the preparation and preservation of the kill."

    Aiyen wanted to use the grooming as an excuse to stick close to Vikir and interfere.

    But there was one thing she didn''t know.

    Vikir had ughtered countless demonic carcasses during the Age of Destruction, and his skill at removing their entrails, flesh, bones, and skins to preserve and cook them was almost masterful.

    Chuckle, chuckle, chuckle, chuckle...

    Vikir soaked the hides in water in a wide bamboo vat and scraped away the fat behind them with a sharp stone knife.

    The hides, which came off without a scratch, were set aside for tanning.

    When dry, the hides were as hard as nks, but softened after a few beats with oil squeezed from the scaffolding.

    The oxbear''s flesh, guts, and blood were boiled in a pot, and the oils that floated to the top were skimmed off and used to light thenterns.

    The bones, ws, and teeth were used to make weapons and jewelry.

    Meat as a whole was cooked in a variety of ways.

    Some cuts were made into jerky, some were boiled into soup, some were boiled into tang, some were lightly poached, some were smoked over charcoal, and some were hung to dry in nodal....

    Vikir was particrly good at smokingrge pieces of meat whole.

    Some of the people who watched Vikir work on the meat were dumbfounded and left their meat to him.

    Among them was Aiyen, who hade to learn how to handle the meat.

    Vikir tied therge chunks of meat to salted rope and hung them from a branch.

    He then dug a pit and let the meat dangle in the center of the pit, and at the bottom of the pit he piled pine needles and oak and apple wood and lit a fire.

    Once the fire was zing, Bikir gathered branches, leaves, and mud to seal the opening of the pit.

    After a while, he broke the mud lid, which had hardened under the fire, and pulled the rope to reveal a browned, smoky chunk of meat.

    A whole oxbear hind leg was roasted.

    The Bk people raved about the deliciously smoked hind leg barbecue.

    Aiyen''s eyes widened in amazement as he cut into the meat.

    "What the hell can''t you do?"

    Nothing too extraordinary, given the age of the soul, but certainly surprising, given that the body was no more than fifteen years old.

    Vikir watched the younger children eagerly pick at the chunks of meat, blowing on them.

    The exuberance of young children is something that puts a smile on anyone''s face, regardless of age.

    Vikir watched as the people ate the meat he had roasted.

    There was a slight quirk in the way the people of Bk shared their meat.

    Those with bad eyes ate the eyes of an oxbear.

    Those with bad lungs ate the lungs of the oxbear.

    Those with bad legs ate oxblood legs.

    Those with bad pancreas ate the pancreas of the oxberry.

    The tribesmen seemed to believe that they could cure their ailments by eating the parts of their prey.

    "Strange superstition."

    Vikir thought to himself.

    "Hey, ve."

    Vikir hears a voice calling to him from the side.

    Aiyen, who had slipped away after the dismemberment had begun, was standing behind him when he reappeared.

    Cheeks burning, arge bowl of coconut in his hand.

    The steaming bowl was filled with a hot, bubbling broth of oil.

    Inside was arge chunk of meat, elongated and thick, making it hard to tell what it was.

    "Organ?

    I asked, though I couldn''t tell exactly what it was because it was floating in a cloud of grease.

    Aiyen snorted and said.

    "I''ve taken what the shaman covets with the authority of a hunter, and this is for you to eat, by all means!"

    "I have already received a piece of meat, a jar of blood, and some entrails."

    "No, no, no, this is for you to eat!"

    Aiyen insisted on feeding Hansako Vikir the meat soup.

    Her logic was adamant.

    "If your eyes are bad, eat the eyes of your prey; if your heart is bad, eat the heart of your prey; if your hands or feet are bad, eat the forelegs and hind legs of your prey!"

    "What part of the oxbear is this?"

    When Vikir asked about the identity of the long, thick chunks of meat in the bath, Aiyen only coughed and offered no exnation.

    "Hmph, seeing as how you''ve been sleeping around in the cold, you''ll definitely need this, eat some...!"

    Aiyen mumbled thest part and swallowed it whole.

    Reaction erupted around him instead.

    "Woooo- Captain, you''re already taking what''s yours(?)!"

    "Who gives that to a ve for his own good!"

    "Ho-ho, the season of long nights ising soon."

    "That''s too tant! It''s obvious what he''s up to!"

    The young women of the vige booed Aiyen in unison.

    "Shut up, girls! If you''re not happy, you can go out with yoursso and get him!"

    Aiyen raises her fist, her eyes glowing, and the heckling dies down.

    "...."

    Vikir frowned, not quite sure what to make of that.

    Well, I''ll take what I can get.

    Vikir gulped down the hot broth.

    He chewed and swallowed everyst bit of the coarse meat that had sunk into his stomach as Aiyen kept urging him on.

    "This is so tough."

    The texture itself was simr to the haggis she was used to eating in Baskerville, but it was much more savory and chewy than that.

    ...Gulp!

    Bikir''s throat gurgled loudly once.

    Only then did Aiyen''s expression soften.

    "I see. Now you''re going to give me an excuse."

    Vikir frowned slightly once more.

    "I think I''ve already given you more than your fair share of hunting.

    He couldn''t quite figure out what more she wanted here.

 Chapter 61: The Protagonist of Hunting (2)

    <h4>Chapter 61: The Protagonist of Hunting (2)</h4>

    The hunt ended with a feast.

    That night, the whole event ended with the selection of about a hundred kilograms of the finest parts of Oxbear meat.

    The men of Bk chose the best of the meat and hung it on a tall tree quite a distance from the vige.

    When Vikir looked confused, Aiyen exined.

    "It''s a sacrifice to Madame Eight Legs."

    Vikir nodded slightly.

    He had met Madame Eight-Legged once before, in the darkness of the jungle.

    An unspeakable beast. A creature of untold horror that no man could survive.

    The barbarians of Bk seemed to use parts of their dead prey, or the bodies of their prisoners of war, as sacrifices, nailed to high trees.

    Surprisingly, no creatures were interested in the meat the Bk men hung from the tree.

    Hyenas, eagles, and even the odd insect were not attracted to the meat.

    They didn''t dare touch it because they knew who it belonged to.

    "I wonder if the warriors of Baskerville and Morg were also sacrificed to Madame Eight-Legged once upon a time?

    It seemed likely, given the non-cannibalistic culture of the Bk.

    * * *

    The next day at dawn.

    Vikir awoke early and padded out of his tent.

    Along the way, he saw a group of drunken Bk warriors sleeping in the early morning dew.

    Vikir was careful not to step on them, and soon he was walking toward the outskirts of town.

    His body was healing faster with each passing day.

    And he would need more food if he wanted to recover faster.

    The meat, blood, and entrails of the oxbear were not enough, so Vikir traveled to the outskirts of the vige to find food for himself.

    As a ve, he didn''t expect to be allowed to leave the vige, but the guards at the entrance were surprisingly willing to let him go.

    "What are you, a ve, wandering around all by yourself because you did well in the hunt?"

    The sentry, Ahun, frowned at Vikir''s arrogance, but didn''t restrain him.

    "You don''t think you''re scared of the jungle just because you''ve killed a dying bear, Kek, get out and die."

    Ahun waved him off and Vikir walked out into the jungle, pacing.

    After a while, Vikir reached the tall tree where he had hung his offeringst night.

    "...!"

    Vikir''s eyes widened slightly.

    Sure enough, the hundred kilograms of meat that he had hung on the high tree was gone.

    The disappearance of the meat meant that its owner hade and gone, even though the wild animals, flying beasts, and insects that roamed nearby had not dared to approach it.

    The area was filled with white, dried slime and charred, dead grass.

    "...That''s a nasty demon."

    Vikir turned away from the spot and headed for a stream a short distance away.

    A river of muddy water.

    There was no boundary between water and ground.

    Only overgrown vines and thorny leaves marked the river''s boundaries.

    Vikir climbed a high branch and stretched out his line.

    He pulled out the longest, toughest strand of Oxbear''s fur and used it as a fishing line.

    At the end of it was a hook carved from the oxbear''s scavenged bones.

    Vikir bit the tip of his finger lightly to draw blood and sprinkled it into the river.

    The reaction was immediate.

    Bubbling, bubbling, bubbling...

    Judging by the bubbling bubbles on the surface of the tan water, it had worked.

    Vikir threaded a frog that had been wandering nearby onto a fishing hook and cast it into the center of the foam.

    The bite was immediate.

    ... Tsk!

    A fish with teeth as sharp as saw des snapped off the line.

    .

    Danger rating (single individual) : D

    Danger rating (group) : A

    Size : 30cm

    Found in: Ridge 6, ck and Red Mountains

    -Travels in herds of at least a few thousand individuals.

    When alone, they are cowardly and shy, but in a group, they will charge at even thergest of enemies.

    They are sensitive to the smell of blood and will swarm in deep pools in rivers, and when they catch the scent of their prey, they will swarm away, leaving only the bones behind.

    The frog used as bait was torn to shreds, but the oxbear''s fur and bones were intact, as were the line and hook.

    A fish with a ck body and a red belly.

    As soon as Vikir caught it, he threaded it onto a spiky branch.

    The next bait was a small piece of flesh from the fish he had just caught.

    The Nateri are even more eager now that they are using meat from their own kind as bait.

    One, two, three, four... fish kepting.

    Some were over 70 centimeters long, with ck or white bodies and red eyes.

    "They''re supposed to be hard to catch."

    Vikir muttered as he looked down at the natteri, their gills pierced by long reeds.

    They were originally sensitive only to human blood and the flesh of their kind.

    Human blood, especially if it has been imbued with some degree of mana, is a favorite.

    The hunters of Bk don''t seem to realize this, so Vikir simply stacks up the food in silence.

    Vikir then roasted the nateri over a low fire of fallen leaves and sticks.

    He ate some, smoked some, and used them to make fish balls.

    By the time he''d caught the freshwater crabs and zaras that crawled along the banks of the river and stocked up on food, the morning sun had risen.

    "...?"

    As I returned to the vige with a sack full of food made of leaves, I saw a strange sight.

    In the center of town, in front of Chief Aqu''s barracks, there was a long line of people.

    "What was that?"

    Vikir scratched his head.

    There were at least thirty people lined up in front of the chieftain''s barracks.

    Unusually, all thirty were young women.

    "Is this some kind of ceremony?"

    To get to the barracks, I have to pass by this line anyway.

    Unaware of Vikir''s approach from behind, the young women chatter amongst themselves.

    "I''ve been in line since the crack of dawn, thank God I''m in the front of the line."

    "I actually spent the night here!"

    "Too bad. I should have gotten up a little earlier."

    Vikir listened, wondering what was going on.

    There was something off about their conversation.

    "Given your performance at yesterday''s hunting festival, you''re probably going to get off scot-free, right?"

    "Then surely you''ll take a woman in the vige as a saxi?"

    "I''ll talk to the chief and make sure I''m the first to apply."

    "I saw you cutting up the meat yesterday, and it was so hearty."

    "You must be strong enough to hunt down an oxbear."

    "What a handsome thing."

    Vikir shuffled away.

    "????"

    An instinctive warning goes through me before I can fullyprehend what''s going on.

    Vikir is just about to turn away.

    "These are real!"

    I hear a shrill cry.

    Thirty or so women back away, furious.

    Where their gazes were directed, Aiyen stood, his eyes glowing.

    She was carrying three freshly killed roe deer.

    She threw them to the ground and announced to the women of the vige.

    "''What nonsense,'' she said to the women, ''I fed you yesterday to the point of decoction, and now you''re trying to steal from me at thest minute!''"

    Then one of the women mustered up the courage to speak up.

    "Then use it first (?) and then hand it over!"

    "Shut up, you''re talking to a kid who''s not even a ve anymore!"

    "Monopolies are vile!"

    "If you''re so unjust, go out there with a noose and get him!"

    "I''ve been out many times and there''s never been a kid like that!"

    "How far have you been out?"

    "The borders of the empire!"

    "You could go out to hell and back and find him!"

    Aiyen eximed, pulling his dagger from his inner thigh.

    Then the women in the line slipped backward.

    Even the bravest of Bk''s women are afraid of Aiyen, the hunting leader.

    No wonder, since quarrels with her go beyond hair-pulling and nail-wing.

    Watching the women slink away, Aiyen snorted hard.

    "Sh*t. At this rate, someone''s going to pick it up while I''m waiting for them to recover. I can''t trust a bitch like Sagal. I need to get her well soon so she can give me an excuse......"

    She turned away, muttering something to herself.

    Aiyen and Vikir''s gazes met.

    Vikir, who had been unintentionally hiding behind the tent, panicked.

    He hadn''t done anything wrong, but he had been seen.

    But it was Aiyen who was more flustered than Vikir.

    ".... Look, did you see that?"

    "...."

    "Hmmm. No."

    "...."

    "...Khhhh."

    An awkward silence fell between them.

    Finally, Aiyen scratched her neck and strode over.

    She''s nearly a foot taller than Vikir.

    Aiyen stepped closer and looked down at Vikir.

    When she opened her mouth, he could smell the sweet scent of tree berries mingled with her warm breath.

    "Last night, Mother called a meeting of the Elders."

    "...."

    "Among the many items on the agenda was your story."

    From what she''d told me before, it was traditionally reserved for those who caught and submitted thergest game in the hunting system to be freed from very.

    But now, it seems, the reward is more than just a piece of cotton cloth.

    "Listen, you can ask my mother for something. As an honorable hunter of yesterday''s ughter."

    Aiyen turned to Vikir.

    "She will probably try to match you with a mate."

    An outsider, a bonded ve.

    The only way to keep such a useful person in the tribe is to know who they will be paired with.

    "...I wonder if that''s why those women were lined up all morning."

    Vikir sighed softly.

    Meanwhile, Aiyen narrowed her eyes and asked in a low voice.

    "You. Do you have a mate in mind in this tribe?"

    ... There can''t be.

    His body is broken, and he''s adrift in the middle of enemy territory, and he''s been fighting dangerous creatures all this time.

    As Vikir shook his head emphatically, Aiyen''s expression became subtle.

    It was a mixture of anger and helplessness, of relief and misgivings.

    ... Tuck!

    Aiyen threw his arms around Vikir''s shoulders.

    Her momentum was strong, but she gently lowered her hands when they reached Vikir''s shoulders.

    Aiyen leaned close to Vikir''s ear and spoke in a low voice.

    "Later, when my mother calls for you, I will decide what you will ask of her."

    Her eyes sparkled.

    "What shall I ask for..."

    She looked as if she was nning some sort of trick.

 Chapter 62: The Protagonist of Hunting (3)

    <h4>Chapter 62: The Protagonist of Hunting (3)</h4>

    Vikir sits in his barracks, stoking the fire in the fire pit.

    " ... are you there?"

    A thin voice called from outside.

    As Vikir walks out of his leaf insignia, he sees a girl with ck hair and dark eyes looking up at him with a shy expression.

    It was the same girl who had risen at the crack of dawn the previous day and stood in line outside the chieftain''s barracks.

    "The chief is looking for you, I''vee to deliver a message."

    She must havee on an errand.

    Vikir immediately started walking toward the chieftain''s barracks.

    Then.

    "Ah, hey, hey!"

    The girl calls out to Vikir.

    When Vikir turned his head, the girl was flushed red and stammering.

    "Hey, thank you for grilling the meat the other day, it was delicious!"

    She must be referring to the roasting of meat in the hunting expeditions.

    Vikir gave a quick nod and turned away. The chieftain called me, I have to get going.

    * * *

    Even the warriors of Bk, who roam freely in all parts of the jungle, are not allowed to act recklessly, especially in the presence of the chieftain Aqu.

    Vikir enters through the curtain and immediately sees a mounted eagle at the far end of the barracks.

    Beneath it, in arge chair, sat Chieftain Aqu.

    A stern-looking woman, scars scattered across her face.

    She''s not very tall, but her rich eagle-feathered cloak and the sense of power she exudes make you think you''re facing a giant.

    In particr, therge scar over one of her eyes made the audience feel intimidated.

    Nicknamed the Night Fox, she is the current leader of the Bk and their strongest warrior.

    She has won back-to-back victories over Hugo Les Baskervilles, patriarch and swordmaster of House Baskerville, and Morg Adolf, deputy and sixth-ss master of House Morg.

    It is because of her that the Bk, who total only about three hundred in number, are feared by the empires and are known as the strongest warrior tribe in the jungle.

    "Chieftain."

    Vikir dropped to one knee and bowed his head in the manner of his training.

    Aqu, the Night Fox, the greatest archer said to have ever lived since Adonai, the legendary archer who led the Bk at their height centuries ago.

    She lifted her one and only eye and gazed upon Vikir with admiration.

    Unlike Imperial speech, which circles around its purpose in greetings and praise, Bk''s is straightforward and raw.

    "I see you caught an oxbear this time. Thanks to you, we have delicious meat."

    Aqu spoke with a gentle smile that belied her first impression.

    His voice was as regal as Hugo''s, but without the edge, and instead warm and gentle.

    "No, Chief. I was only doing what I was supposed to do."

    "There is no need to be humble. A job well done is a job well done."

    Aqu smiled even more warmly at Vikir''s modesty.

    Vikir was genuinely surprised that the terrifying night fox was capable of such a smile.

    Finally, Aqu spoke.

    "In recognition of your deeds of yesterday, I am relieving you of your status. You are no longer a ve, but a member of our family."

    From this moment on, Vikir was no longer a ve, but officially a member of the Bk family.

    Then.

    "...cough."

    A sound of hollow coughing filled with disgust.

    Vikir nced sideways to see a grizzled old man ring at him with his mouth mped shut.

    "You must be the old man who used to smear ash on the faces of young hunters.

    Ahmen, the shaman of Bk.

    He was the most powerful man in the vige, except for the chief, Aqu.

    He is not well-liked by the young, who dislike old traditions and superstitions, but all the older, more seasoned hunters put their trust in him.

    The saying "There are no atheists in the trenches" is true.

    People who have been through the storms of life are always looking for something to lean on spiritually, and Ahmen understood exactly that.

    "By the way, did I mention... Ahun was the son of that old man?

    Ahun, the young hunter who always wears his heart on his sleeve, looks ufortable over there, and I can see Ahmen''s feelings echoed in his face.

    Apparently, he doesn''t like Aqu''s recognition of Vikir.

    And there''s no way Aqu doesn''t know that Vikir has noticed.

    "Hey, shaman."

    Aqu turned his head to look at Ahman.

    "...Yes, Chief."

    "You don''t like that I''ve epted that boy as a member of the tribe?"

    Aqu asked bluntly.

    Ahmen may be powerful in the tribe, but a chieftain''s authority is absolute.

    He immediately recognizes the hint of vulnerability in Aqu''s words and bows his head deeply.

    "Of course not, it''s just that I''m a little concerned about blood of Imperial origin being transfused within the tribe."

    "That is not for a shaman to worry about. All you have to do is make sure the rains are good when theye, the prayers are good when the warriors go hunting, the fires are good when there''s a war, the memorials are good when there''s a death, and the wards are good when there''s a gue."

    At Aqu''s cut-and-dried words, Ahmen bowed his head deeply.

    Behind him, he could see Aiyen clucking his tongue.

    Well, whatever.

    Aqu recognized Vikir''s contributions to the hunting frestival and raised his status to official tribe member.

    Aqu nced down at Vikir''s limp body.

    "You seem to have recovered quite a bit, I can''t believe how quickly."

    "Thanks to your care."

    "It''s done. I didn''t take care of anything. If I have any virtue, it''s in my daughter."

    Aqu nced away and looked at Aiyen, who stood against the wall.

    "...."

    Aiyen nced away from her mother''s gaze and whispered something else.

    Finally, Aqu spoke up.

    "Now that you are officially a member of the Bk, tell me what you want. You are one of my own, and I have not been able to give birth to and raise you, so I will give you something in return."

    When she had finished, Aqu spoke softly.

    "There are many eligible young women in the vige. If you wish, I will find one of them and im her as your mate. Or a ve, if that''s not what you need. I have quite a few girls from other tribes that I''ve captured as prisoners of war."

    There was a brief murmur from outside the tent.

    It was the chatter of the vige women who had been lined up outside the chieftain''s barracks since dawn.

    But Vikir shook his head.

    "I appreciate the offer, but the mate is fine."

    Wives and female ves alike were being offered to increase birth rates, a ploy to capitalize on the human tendency to settle where children are born.

    When Vikir rejected the offer, Aqu seemed to consider for a moment.

    "Hmm. You don''t want a woman, do you? That''s unusual. Most of the men among the outsiders want women."

    In truth, most of Bk''s people were good-looking and beautiful.

    Their bodies were built for hunting and training, and their eyes and hair were unusually healthy and vibrant, unlike those of other tribes.

    The warriors of the Bk are unusually attractivepared to the other tribes of the Barbarian.

    Thanks to the asional transfusions of blood from the outside world, they''ve never developed inbreeding diseases.

    Perhaps that''s why invaders from the outside often targeted Bk maidens.

    Of course, almost all of them are reduced to wolf''s food by her arrows. ...

    Meanwhile, Aqu wrinkled the corners of her nose a little. She seemed to be thinking.

    "So, what do you want me to give you, half of the oxbear hide you caught?"

    Oxbear hides are a very valuable treasure.

    Vikir almost jumped out of his skin when he heard the offer to cut it in half.

    Cutting an animal''s hide in half reduces its value to one-tenth of what it is worth, and as someone who knows value, that''s not something I want to see.

    Just then.

    "...!"

    Vikir felt a gaze shoot to his side.

    Aiyen was ring at him intently.

    "You didn''t forget what I told you, did you?

    That look, the look that spoke with her eyes.

    Aqu nced sideways at her daughter, as if she were not used to seeing her like that.

    Aiyen is still furiously sending signals to Vikir, unaware that Aqu has seen her.

    Eventually, Vikir speaks up, as Aiyen had urged him to before.

    "Material rewards are fine. However, I was wondering if you would be willing to take a bath in the Fountain of Valor?"

    Before answering Aqu''s call, Aiyen had insisted that Vikir mention this as his desired reward.

    For the first time, Aqu frowned.

    "...hmm."

    If even Aqu, who was quite friendly with Vikir, could react like this, what about the others?

    Most of the old men swallowed their grunts in disgust.

    Shaman Ahheman, who was in the front row, snapped.

    "You fool! Who are you to speak in front of me?"

    As if he couldn''t take it anymore, Ahheman strode forward and knelt before Aqu.

    "Chieftain! For generations, it has been only the proud warriors of Bk who have been allowed to bathe in the Fountain of Valor!"

    The murmuring around them grew louder.

    Ahun, standing at the entrance to the barracks, spoke sarcastically.

    "The Fountain of Valor is only for those who have proven their strength. How dare you."

    Aiyen, standing on the other side, spoke up.

    "Vikir has already proven his strength. He captured an oxbear and submitted it to this hunting festival!"

    "Hmph. I guess I was just throwing rocks at him from behind when he was hunting."

    "And you have a back like that from being hit by a rock?"

    Ahun''s body began to shake as Aiyen gestured to the bandages and casts wrapped around his waist.

    At Aqu''s question, Vikir thought for a moment, then nodded.

    "....The Fountain of Valor. Do you know what it is?"

    It is a small spring that flows deep beneath the waters of Bk''s holiest site, the Tomb of the Champions, where only the bravest and strongest of Bk''s greatest warriors are buried.

    It was said to be blessed by the great ancestors and to cure all internal wounds and traumas by simply taking a dip.

    However, the water level is very low, the water takes a long time to collect, and the effects are halved if too many people enter, so the Bk only allow ess to warriors who have earned special recognition from generation to generation.

    "Patriarch, that''s too much to ask for, how can you allow an outsider who''s only just arrived to enter the holy grounds...!"

    "Still, he''s quite the prospect, having captured an oxbear, so it might not be a bad idea to motivate him for once."

    "Nonsense! Since when did the Fountain of Valor be a ce where anyone can soak in it!"

    "Heh, but he doesn''t look like he''s even grown up, so we should be nice to him since he''s part of the family."

    The elders around him are also arguing.

    Some looked favorably on the capture of the oxbear at a time of need for the entire tribe, while others did not.

    Aqu was secretly tempted to grant Vikir''s request, but she was certainly a little too weak to use the oxbear hunt as a justification.

    Some, including Aheman, were less than enthusiastic about having Vikir as a member of the family in the first ce, and were even more adamantly opposed to the Fountain of Valor.

    Aqu wanted to grant her daughter''s petition if she could, but it was a bit of a dilemma with the shaman and his unfriendly forces so strongly opposed.

    Just then.

    Ding, ding, ding, ding.

    A loud bell suddenly rang out from the top of the watchtower that stood on the border of the n''s enclosure, the vige.

    At the same time, a watchman shouted.

    "The outsiders have arrived!"

    Something had happened in the vige.

 Chapter 63: Unfair Trade (1)

    <h4>Chapter 63: Unfair Trade (1)</h4>

    Tink-tink-tink-tink-tink-!

    Over the nging of bells, the watchman shouts.

    "The outsiders have appeared!"

    Something seemed to have happened in the vige.

    Vikir scrambled to his feet.

    " ...Is it war?"

    Beside him, Aiyen turned to look at Vikir with a puzzled expression.

    "Are you serious?"

    "...?"

    When Vikir gave her a puzzled look, Aiyen reached out and stroked her hair once, roughly.

    She smiled.

    "There''s no way in hell there''s a bunch of lunatics in thesends who would challenge our Bk to a fight first."

    That''s right. No one would challenge Bk to a fight unless they were a high level demon.

    Outside the borders, there was no one who could stand up to Bk, except perhaps the Baskervilles or the Morgans.

    Even the cannibalistic Lokoro tribe was no match for Bk.

    How could a tribe of only 300 people dere war on the Empire, much less their neighbors?

    It would not be an exaggeration to say that Bk had no one to look out for in the continent, except for ''Madame Eight Legs'', who reigned as a local nightmare.

    "...Then who is the intruder?"

    Vikir asked, and Aiyen rose from his seat and drew back the curtain at the entrance.

    "It would be quicker to see with your own eyes."

    As she spoke, Vikir turned his gaze toward the outside of the barracks.

    "...!"

    There was a rather unexpected sight.

    White-skinned, blond, jet-ck, and blue-haired people.

    All dressed in clean clothes and speaking in a familiarnguage, they were clearly Imperials.

    "...Houses of Bourgeois.

    Vikir frowned, though only slightly.

    The Seven Houses of the Empire.

    The Baskervilles, represented by swords, the Morg, represented by magic, and the other five are the Seven Pirs of the Old Country, sworn to the Emperor''s service.

    The Bourgeois family was a tycoon family that had amassed a great deal of capital through trade andmerce, and was one of the Seven Families, along with the Holy House of Quavadis and the Poisonous House of Leviathan.

    Then.

    "It''s been a while since you''ve been here."

    Aiyen''s blunt words broke Vikir''s reverie.

    Her expression was a slight frown.

    Merchants from house of Bourgeois are known for doing whatever pays the bills.

    They''d probablye this far underborder with supplies to trade with the natives.

    Aiyen didn''t look too impressed with them.

    "This is actually not necessary. they are selling something that is not here, psychologically this makes us feel like we will regret it if we don''t buy it...I''m not suited with those kind of merchants."

    And to a certain extent, Vikir agreed with her.

    Before the regression, Hugo had a saying about bourgeois families.

    "There are fools who think money is power. They''ve never known what real power is.

    There was an undisguised contempt and irritation in his voice.

    He didn''t like the idea of the Bourgeois who proudly boasting in the richnd in the capital of the empire while the Baskervilles were fighting bloody frontier battles with barbarians on on the borders of the empire.

    What''s more, the fact that he''s sneaking into their territory and trading with their enemies, the barbarians, doesn''t make him look good.

    The other families were simr in their dislike of the bourgeois, but it was ironic that they had no choice but to do business with them.

    Diplomacy, trade,merce, real estate, banking, and all other aspects of the empire''s mary economy were influenced by the Bourgeois.

    "But how did they get here?"

    Vikir looked bewildered.

    If the Bourgeois were to send merchants this way from their seats on the ecliptic of the Empire, they would essentially have to pass through the territory of the Baskervilles or the Morgans.

    Especially to reach the depths of these border, they would need to procurerge amounts of supplies, and that would be impossible without the help of the locals.

    There was only one thought in Vikir''s mind.

    "...Smuggling.

    They had trespassed on the Baskervilles'' property and made their way to the border.

    And they had most likely smuggled themselves in via Underdog, the city closest to the border.

    "...."

    They made their way to the center of town and began to unload their cargo while Vikir stood still and watched the merchants of Bourgeois Avenue.

    "Now, as usual, it''s a five-day market. We came here first, before the other tribes!"

    The merchant, who came from a bourgeois family, was a middle-aged man with a long mustache.

    Sir Smuggler.

    He had a gentle and kindly appearance, but the greedy gaze in his eyes was unpleasantly scanning the bodies of the young Bk maidens on disy.

    Soon, the merchants began to pull various items from their packs and distribute them to the natives around them.

    They were cheap ss beads, brooches, whistles, perfumes and cosmetics of shiny materials, and, to my surprise, the Bk warriors epted them with a twinkle in their eyes.

    "Here, free, free, try these!"

    The merchants gave away all sorts of goodies to the locals.

    The middle-aged women and older men were especially excited.

    "Here are some ss beads that you can put in your bed to help you have good dreams, please take one."

    "Here are some perfumes,dies!"

    "There are also cosmetics, cosmetics!"

    The ss beads not only sparkled, but also gave off a nice scent.

    Neither did the perfume nor the cosmetics.

    The natives were epting them, as well as me, because they are hard to smell in the barren jungle.

    Soon, the merchants who had attracted people by handing out freebies began to sell their products in earnest.

    They were mostly grains and vegetables, things that could not be grown in the jungle.

    The prices the traders demanded from the native Bk, who did not use currency, varied.

    Animal skins, bones, teeth, rare parts such as gums and antlers, and forest products such as precious mushrooms, spices, and medicinal herbs.

    Sometimes, gemstones or gold.

    When Vikir saw it, he thought to himself.

    "What a rip-off."

    Indeed, the natives of Bk were trading their diamonds for the merchants'' corn.

    For the natives of Bk, it was a profitable trade, turning worthless rocks into edible grain, but for Vikir, who knew how much they were worth..., it was unbelievable.

    Then.

    "Wait!"

    Aiyen stepped forward.

    Her eyes flickered between the diamonds and the corn.

    Then she stood between the girl with the diamonds and the merchant with the corn.

    "This is an unfair trade," she said, "it''s ridiculous to trade a diamond for a kernel of corn."

    As Vikir listened to her, he thought, "Right!

    Aiyen had some bones to pick, and he should be able to stop this unfair trade.

    But.

    "...You should get at least two bags of corn."

    After speaking, Aiyen looked back at Vikir and gave him a victory sign with his finger.

    Vikir sighed lightly.

    She may be an aplished warrior, but she knows nothing of the world outside the Empire.

    The natives of Bk were a bit rough around the edges, trying to devalue the merchants'' wares, but well, ... Vikir thought.

    "Hmmm. Hmmm. This radish isn''t very sweet. I don''t think I can trade for a pearl m, at least I''ll take two radishes."

    "Damn it, did you bring this cabbage too? It''s wilted and bug-eaten in so many ces! This is why I can''t give you a whole pair of antlers. You''ll have to take one!"

    "Do you know how hard I''ve been drying these otter skins, you should give me at least two more potatoes!"

    Everyone is a haggler.

    In the empire, the value of crabs, antlers, otter pelts, pearl shells, diamonds, wolf teeth, and bear bones are traded for sweet potatoes, potatoes, corn, radishes, barley, cabbage, and more.

    "Oh no, we can''t afford to lose to Bk''s warriors."

    "Well, I''m afraid you can''t keep raising the price of your goods like this, but I can''t help it. I''ll meet your demands this time, Nene. You''re a good bargainer~"

    "We don''t have anything to offer, either."

    The merchants quickly take the natives'' goods, even though they are grumbling.

    Soon enough, the agricultural products-potatoes, sweet potatoes, corn, cabbage, radishes, carrots, barley, and rice-are gone, along with cheap ss beads, brooches, and perfume.

    In their ce were deer antlers, mushrooms, sea turtles, ivory, bones and skins of all kinds, peony, reishi, matsutake, jewelry, gold, and the hatchlings and eggs of small and rare beasts.

    The merchants pretended to be calm as they looked at the goods piled high on their carts, but inwardly they were jumping for joy.

    I wonder how many tens of thousands of times this is.

    When the trade was finally over, the merchants'' demeanor became arrogant.

    They saw more goods than they could carry in their carts, and now they began to ept goods based on their merit.

    Then.

    A girl stepped forward.

    She could not have been more than twelve years old. She was pretty, with dark hair and dark eyes.

    She carried several plump caterpirs, carefully roasted on twigs.

    They were a delicious and prized food among the Bk natives.

    The girl held out the caterpir skewers and said to the merchants of Bourgeoisie Street.

    "Excuse me, can I get a ss bead?"

    But the merchants'' attitude was cold.

    "There''s a ss bead, but what''s that?"

    "This is the caterpir of a sunbeetle."

    Several of the younger Bk children looked at the skewer of caterpirs the girl was holding and gave her an envious nce.

    The caterpir was a rare insect that tasted unusually like a mixture of milk and egg yolk, and it was worth a lot of money.

    However, the merchants of Bourgeois Avenue looked at the girl''s caterpir skewer with disdain.

    "...Wow, you''re not giving this to me to eat, are you?"

    "Haha, kid, that''s for you brown-skinned people. White people don''t eat that stuff."

    "That''s why you''re ck as a dung beetle. Hahaha!"

    "Why don''t you give me something else instead of that, like showing me up your skirt."

    They taunt, sneer, and sexually harass the girl in an imperialnguage she can''t understand.

    Boom!

    One of the vendors shoves a skewer of caterpirs out of the girl''s hand.

    She drops the caterpirs to the floor.

    She couldn''t understand what the merchants were saying, but she could at least guess the meaning of their jeers, scorn, mockery, and lustful nces.

    Just then.

    ...Jaw!

    A boy picked up a skewer of caterpirs that had fallen to the floor and devoured them in one bite.

    Vikir.

    He stood in front of the merchants, gulping down the caterpirs in his mouth.

    His face and body were covered in ck charcoal dust, as if he had just spent the night in an open fire.

    "...."

    The girl looked up at Vikir, panicking.

    Vikir patted her on the head, then turned to look at the merchants.

    He spoke in a fluent Imperial tongue that stunned the merchants in front of him for a moment.

    "This trade is invalid."

 Chapter 64: Unfair Trade (2)

    <h4>Chapter 64: Unfair Trade (2)</h4>

    "This trade is void."

    Anyway, it''s invalid.

    The merchants flinched for a moment as Vikir spoke in Imperial.

    It''s natural to be surprised when a raggedy stranger suddenly speaks to you in a familiarnguage.

    Especially when they had just been exchanging curses and foulnguage.

    "Uh... speak Imperial?"

    "Did you hear what we just said?"

    "Oh, there might have been a misunderstanding."

    "Let us exin. These, these words are just..."

    All of the people who were just having a nasty conversation about the color and sexuality of the Bk natives look away.

    Vikir''s eyes widen as he realizes that if he gets caught talking about the color and sex of the Bk, he''ll be in for a rough ride.

    Vikir''s expression was nonchnt.

    "You mean insulting Bk''s warriors with the color of their skin and sexually harassing a woman?"

    "Huh! That, that!"

    The merchants are flustered.

    Vikir kept his face expressionless.

    "Not that it matters now."

    Indeed. The merchants were so surprised that Vikir spoke Imperial that they hadn''t thought about what he''d actually said.

    Void. The whole deal is off.

    Luckily, the merchants'' goods had all been stacked in one ce to be sold, so the natives of Bk could return them to the merchants as they were.

    The merchants, in turn, can return the piles of forest products to their wagons.

    Upon hearing Vikir''s words, Aiyen sensed something and stopped all trading.

    Even the merchants around him looked bewildered.

    "No, what''s going on here?" they asked.

    "''We''re not trading, why do we want to buy and lose money?"

    "We don''te here every day, how can we...."

    The merchants protested.

    Vikir dismissed them quickly.

    "Losses? Well, if the trade doesn''t happen, who will?"

    Aiyen gave him a puzzled look.

    She sidled up to Vikir and whispered softly.

    "Look. There are many people in Bk who are counting down the days until those merchants arrive."

    She was right.

    Among the natives of Bk, I see a girl crying, an old woman stomping her foot impatiently, middle-aged men and elderly women with wistful looks on their faces.

    They coveted the merchants and the goods they shared: ss beads, potatoes, corn, and harmonicas, not knowing when they woulde again.

    Aiyen was controlling the trade, as Vikir had said, and they all looked at each other in silent regret.

    But.

    "It''s a good attitude to take care of the vigers, but you need to look out for the other side first."

    Vikir''s advice continues.

    "...?"

    Aiyen''s head snapped up at Vikir''s words, and then.

    "...!"

    Aiyen''s expression immediately turned to surprise.

    While the Bk''s expression was one of lingering disappointment, that of the merchants on the other side was deadly.

    Extreme nervousness made their hands and legs tremble.

    Vikir spoke briefly.

    "All of your goods are short-lived."

    Most of their trade was vegetables and grain.

    Most of these would spoil or rot on the way back.

    The Bk, on the other hand, traded medicines, hides, spices, and other things that don''t change in value over time.

    So if a trade fails, the people of Bk lose very little.

    The merchants, on the other hand, would have to carry back what they brought, and the value of their goods would have decreased dramatically in the meantime.

    The merchants shuddered and protested.

    "If you do this, we won''te here anymore!"

    "Be that as it may. You''re not the only ones who want toe here."

    There was some truth to Vikir''s words.

    For when he was well enough to return to Baskerville, he would use Sindiwendi to secretly arrange trade with the natives of Bk.

    The merchants were caught between a rock and a hard ce.

    As they stood there, bewildered, Bikir spoke briefly.

    "I know how much these goods fetch locally. If you bargain in good faith, we can resume trade."

    A glimmer of hope appeared on the merchants'' faces.

    "How could a mere child know the local prices?"

    "''Hah! The Empire''smercialws are very strict."

    "He''s going to leave a lot of money on the table anyway, so why not leave a little less?"

    The merchants chuckle amongst themselves.

    They decide there''s still room for a few more bargains.

    ...But.

    "Four gold."

    "What?"

    "Four gold."

    "No, that''s too...."

    "Four gold."

    Vikir knew exactly how much the merchants'' goods were worth.

    He also knew perfectly well what Bk''s goods would eventually fetch if they were to reach the faraway capital of the Empire.

    He would....

    "I''m the one who set up the underdog city''smercial code."

    Vikir had been directly or indirectly involved in countless diplomatic and trade affairs during his time as Deputy Magistrate of the Metropolis.

    "Chess pieces made from the teeth of hellhounds usually fetch around two million gold a piece, with different prices for kings, queens, bishops, and knights, and billiard balls carved from the horns of oxen are all the rage in the ecliptic these days. They fetch five million gold a piece at auction. Natural red ivory, undyed, can''t be had for ten times that price. And then there''s this goblin chanterelle mushroom here, which has recently be a popr ingredient in new medicines and is almost priceless....."

    The merchants just stand there, mouths agape, as Vikir rattles off the exact local price, wholesale price, retail price, distribution margin, etc. of each trade item in fluent Imperial tongue.

    And then. Vikir finishes his calctions.

    "I''ll give you a price that''s just right for you, after taking into ount transportation,bor, and taxes."

    The asking price is indeed what the consumer wants.

    Vikir picked up a pair of antlers, a gnome, and a sea god from the pile of Bk trade goods and tossed them into the merchants'' wagon.

    "This is as much as you can buy with what you have brought."

    Only a tiny fraction of the pile remained.

    The merchants'' faces were red with anger, but they had little to argue about.

    Vikir''s valuation had been urate, and they''d actually made quite a bit of money.

    In other words, it was a fair deal, with no one getting the short end of the stick.

    But for the swindlers, who were expecting to make a fortune, it was a pie in the sky.

    I can''t help but be upset that the natives of Bk were treated so poorly and only received a fair (?) price.

    What?

    It didn''t end there.

    "Okay, now we need to calcte the damages."

    Vikir took back the deer antlers, gourds, and sea gods that he had just ced on the merchants'' carts.

    Then he turned to the merchants and held out his palm.

    "Give me the money."

    At that, the merchants'' faces went nk.

    ...Is this a rip-off? look on their faces.

    But Vikir''s judgment is always based on facts.

    "I''m asking for severe punitive damages for selling adulterated food and distributing illegal drugs."

    The merchants look stunned.

    "What did we do wrong?"

    "Don''t you know?"

    Vikir stretched out his finger and pointed at the grains and vegetables.

    Among the piles of produce were pockets of seeds.

    Vikir reached into the pouch and pulled out the seeds.

    Thud, thud, thud, thud.

    Dumping all the seeds on the ground, Vikir picked up a few of them.

    "You lightly roasted them to prevent them from sprouting, didn''t you?"

    Several of the merchants turn their heads in surprise.

    Yes, they didn''t want the natives of Bk to farm and be self-sufficient.

    They don''t want them to nt seeds and farm for themselves so that they can continue to bring them produce and exploit them.

    When the natives of Bk realized that these were seeds that wouldn''t sprout, they starteding in droves, looking terrified.

    Moreover.

    "And you''re distributing cheap drugs that the Empire hasbeled illegal. You''re out of your mind."

    Vikir pulled out the ss beads and brooches the merchants were giving away for free and crushed them in his hands.

    The ss beads were said to bring good dreams when worn to bed.

    Passthis...

    Inside was a small amount of white powder.

    It leaked out naturally through the tiny holes on the surface of the ss ball.

    If you keep it by your side, you will naturally fall asleep and have good dreams.

    However, it is actually a low-grade narcotic that causes severe damage to the body if left for a long time.

    The ss beads, brooches, nes, perfumes, cosmetics, etc. were all made of simr materials.

    Vikir''s eyes shed.

    "Did the Morg or the Baskervilles tolerate this?

    It was possible, he thought.

    It would be good for the Empire in the long run if Bk''s warriors were not only drugged and weakened by cheap drugs, but if they also produced deformed children in the next generation.

    But Vikir had no intention of acting to benefit the Empire or the Baskervilles.

    It would be far more beneficial for Vikir to join their side in order to stabilize himself here in Bk''s vige and learn archery.

    Vikir smashed all the sswork that leaked drugs and picked out all the boiled and roasted seeds.

    The merchants'' faces grew bluer and bluer with time.

    Some of the merchants, including Lord Smuggler, were furious.

    "Who are you to interfere with this? This is a sacred trade, sanctioned by the God of the Forest himself!"

    "This is a sacred trade, sanctioned by the God of the Forest!"

    "Even the shaman of Bk blesses us on behalf of the God of the Forest...!"

    The merchants keep bringing up the forest gods, but that''s only for the natives of Bk, and Vikir''s tan hides his skin color, but he''s still an Imperial, so it doesn''t matter.

    "It is not the forest gods who rule here, but the Forest Department of Baskerville."

    The merchants all swallowed hard at Vikir''s nonchnt reply.

    It was true, but they hadn''t expected to hear it from a native Bk.

    Vikir poured himself another drink.

    "If you continue to whine about your ridiculous superstitions, I will have you brought before the judiciary of Underdog City."

    There is no sound a barbarian can''t make.

    The merchants retorted, stunned but steadfast.

    "We''ve already been inspected for food safety by Underdog City''s Food and Drug Administration!"

    "That was done under the previous deputy, and with the new deputy, we''ll have to get the revisedws and go through a new process ordingly. From what I can see, some of the items you''re selling don''t meet the currentws."

    "Yeah, who the hell do you think you are to tell us what thew is?"

    The merchants shouted.

    Vikir''s eyes widened at that.

    "...Do you think I don''t know thews?"

    "Of course you don''t! How could you possibly know the newws that have been added? They are very strict and demanding!"

    Lord Smuggler, the head of the merchants, shouted back at Vikir in a pouty manner.

    "''What ck barbarian knows about the Vikir Special Laws''?"

    Hearing that, Vikir gave a single, dryugh.

    But since he couldn''t reveal his identity here, he decided to just assume that hisws were still working just fine.

    "Anyway, this is the end of this trade. You may consider yourself fortunate that I have not taken your life, and now leave."

    It was Aiyen, not Vikir, who had thest word.

    She was furious to learn that the secret gue that had been circting within the vige was not a disease, or a gic disorder, or a curse, but a drug brought in from the outside.

    Some of the warriors were ready to shoot arrows at a moment''s notice, and the merchants were forced to flee.

    Naturally, Vikir became the most talked-about man in town for his role in this trade.

    It was a rare example of a ve turned hero.

    * * *

    When Vikir returned to his tent after the merchants had scurried away.

    ...Boom!

    Something flew andnded in front of his tent.

    It was a smoked boar hind leg.

    Vikir turned his head toward the direction the meat hade from, curious.

    There stood an unexpected figure, his face flushed.

    "...hmmm. Hmm."

    It was Ahun.

    He tore his gaze away from Vikir and looked at the distant mountains.

    "Well, thanks for that. For your help."

    "...?"

    Before Vikir could respond, Ahun shouted.

    "How long is he going to be out of shape? Get well soon, so I can beat the shit out of him... or wrestle him!"

    By the time he finished, Ahun was red up to his ears.

    "Eat it all and get well soon!"

    With that, he turned and walked away.

    He left behind arge piece of the boar he had killed.

    "What''s wrong with that one?

    Some mushrooms can cause intense visions and illusions when eaten.

    If Ahun had eaten it, he might have experienced....

    ''Take him somewhere quiet, no mice or birds will know....''

    Vikir was thinking to himself.

    "Hey. ve."

    Someone taps him on the shoulder.

    He turns and sees Aiyen standing there with a huge grin on his face.

    "I''m not a ve anymore."

    "No. You are a ve for life. My ve."

    Vikir frowns at Aiyen''s insistence.

    Regardless, Aiyen continued with what he wanted to say.

    "Ahun, that bastard. He''s not the same when ites to his sister. He''s a nice enough guy for a big brother."

    ...Sister?

    When Bikir gave him a puzzled look, Aiyen exined further.

    "The girl you helped today is his sister. Her name is Ahul."

    After some thought, Vikir remembered a girl named Ahul.

    The girl in her early teens who had lined up outside the chieftain''s barracks at dawn to be Vikir''s wife.

    The girl who had been sexually harassed by Merchant when she had brought a sunbeetlerva to trade with the merchants today.

    Aiyen continued.

    "Ahul has always been weak. I was worried that she was getting weaker and weaker due to an unknown illness, but now that I think about it, it''s probably because of the ss beads brought by those merchants."

    He had a point.

    If it hadn''t been for Vikir, Ahul would have continued to trade with those merchants, and his body would have gotten worse and worse.

    She would have be an idler, given birth to a deformed child, or even died.

    So Vikir''s actions in this trade could be said to have saved all of Bk.

    "Damn it. I was a fool to let those merchants go. I let them go because it''s a warrior''s shame to kill cowards who don''t resist, but... in hindsight, I should have just killed them and gotten rid of them."

    Aiyen gritted his teeth.

    Just as Vikir was about to part his lips to say something in Moorish.

    Hudadak-

    A Bk warrior rushed over.

    "A message from the chieftain, all warriors assemble!"

    This seems pretty urgent.

    When Aiyen asked what was going on, the warrior replied.

    "It seems that the merchants we chased away during the day are up to something nefarious! They''reing for us at night!"

    Then.

    Aiyen''s expression changed instantly.

    Vikir hasn''t seen her smile this brightly since he''s been here.

 Chapter 65: Unfair Trade (3)

    <h4>Chapter 65: Unfair Trade (3)</h4>

    It was a night when the dark clouds swallowed the moon whole.

    Lord Smuggler and the Merchant Alliance gritted their teeth and made their way through the jungle.

    "Eek! Damn mosquitoes! I''m sick of this damn jungle."

    They grunted in exhaustion.

    They made their way back to base camp, swatting at the mosquitoes with the palms of their hands as they clung to them with their freakishly long stingers.

    There, a group of rugged-looking men gathered, waiting for the traders.

    The furry man in the front row smirked at Lord Smuggler.

    "By the looks of your wounds, it didn''t go well, did it?"

    "...."

    Lord Smuggler didn''t answer, instead shifting his pack nervously.

    The men nearby chuckled.

    "See? The Bk are not to be talked to."

    "What kind of business is it to trade with such beasts?"

    "Just kill them and enve them all. Savages."

    They were a mercenary group of ex-convicts, escaped prisoners, and deserters wanted by the Empire.

    Lord Smuggler warned the mercenaries.

    "Don''t take the Bk lightly, they''re not easy to defeat inbat, and you''re new to the region, so you may not realize it...."

    "Oh never mind, if you''re so scared, why did you bring us here in the first ce, didn''t you bring us here to upset the deal if it went bad?"

    "No, well, we''ve got escorts from the demons, and we''d rather... than go to all-out war with the Bk."

    Lord Smuggler pursed his lips in concern.

    But even he, who normally would not have dreamed of an all-out war with the Bk, could not resist the sight of the vast amount of trade goods left behind in the Bk''s vige.

    Even the mercenaries and some of the merchants who were new to the jungle began to raise their voices.

    "You can''t just waste money like this! I spent a lot of money in the merchant guild''s auction to participate in this trade!"

    "Didn''t we agree to pay for our protection as a percentage of the gross profits of the trade? Do you think I protected you from demons for a pittance like this?"

    "What''s wrong with Bk? We ambush them in the dead of night, set them on fire, take their goods, and that''s it!"

    Veteran merchants who have traded with the Bk a few times know the fears of the Bk warriors.

    But even they were greedy for the goods they had left behind in Bk''s vige.

    In the end, the vote was close to majority, with a few silent votes in favor.

    Lord Smuggler spoke, his sword half-sheathed at his waist.

    "Very well, now that it''s getting dark, let''s go quietly and take inventory, and I don''t think I need to tell you who we''re going to kill first."

    The faces of the mercenaries and merchants around him changed.

    They see it too. Who ruined their trade today.

    "You mean that sneaky little bastard? Okay, we got it."

    "I''ll be the first to put a knife in that cocky ck kid''s ass."

    "But he didn''t look ck to me. His palms were ck. Usually ck people have white palms, don''t they?"

    "Maybe he''s from the Empire? That would exin why he spoke Imperial so well."

    All the men, including Lord Smuggler, chimed in at once.

    Their spears and swords were sharpened, and they were ready to burn everything to the ground.

    And then.

    In the darkness, they performed their rituals.

    Not much of a ritual, really, just a cigarette.

    Chick.

    The cigarette was lit.

    One of the mercenaries takes the cigarette in his mouth and strikes a match to the end of it.

    Next, the mercenary next to him takes the match and lights a cigarette.

    Soon, he''s about to blow it out.

    The third mercenary reaches out and stops him, annoyed.

    "Ohe on, blow out the match, there''s still more to burn."

    "Come on, you''re a newbie, you don''t know what you''re doing."

    The first mercenary and the second mercenary sneered at the third mercenary.

    "Don''t you know that there''s a saying in war that a single match shouldn''t be shared by three people?"

    "What? Is there such a thing?"

    "There is. A match can only be lit by two people."

    The third mercenary snorted.

    "I don''t believe in that shit."

    He quickly puts the cigarette in his mouth to the match, fearing it will go out.

    The next moment, the match that ignited the three cigarettes goes out.

    ...Puck!

    A dull sound echoed through the darkness.

    The third mercenary''s cigarette was gone. And his head, too.

    The first mercenary and the second mercenary stood there, covered in a hot liquid that sshed into their faces.

    Blood. The blood of their decapitatedrades.

    Before they could even realize it.

    ...Puck! ...Puck!

    Two more arrows flew by.

    The arrows were aimed at the cigarettes and struck the mercenaries squarely in the mouths or throats, separating their heads from their bodies.

    "Hic!?"

    Lord Smuggler quickly threw the cigarette to the ground.

    Then.

    ...Puck!

    The cigarette on the ground was instantly struck by an arrow.

    The arrows were powerful enough to blow up the surrounding area upon impact, and they rained down from the darkness of the water like a shower of rain.

    "Cigarettes! Drop the cigarettes!

    An arrow lodged in the mouth of the mercenary captain, who was shouting instructions.

    The mercenary captain lost most of his head, saving only his uv and lower jaw, and copsed to the bottom of the floodwaters.

    Anyone else who screamed, even for a moment, at the suddenness of the situation was struck by arrows in the mouth and throat.

    The mercenaries, who had numbered over a hundred, were quickly cut in half, then in half again.

    In a matter of seconds.

    ... Meanwhile.

    Beyond the rain of arrows, Bk''s archers grinded their teeth.

    "First cigarette, position, second cigarette, distance, third cigarette."

    Huntmaster Aiyen ordered.

    ...Ping!

    Aiyen, who had just sent an arrow flying, turned his head and smiled.

    "So there it is. Crazy bastards trying to fight us first."

    The Bk are basically a fighting people.

    There''s no way they''re going to avoid a fight on foot when they''re the ones who start it in the first ce.

    Aiyen sniped at the mercenaries and merchants in the distance, looking pleased, refreshed, and exhrated.

    They had a knack for picking out the most faint of lights, the faintest of sounds.

    They had a knack for picking out the faintest of lights, the brightness of a cigarette, and driving their flesh into it.

    The same was as of sound.

    Whether the words have left the mouth, are still near the uv, or have not yet departed the lungs, the arrow will always hit the spot where the sound resides.

    For a moment, Aiyen fired her bow with joy, but then Vikir tugged on her arm.

    "Enough."

    Aiyen''s eyes widened.

    "...what?"

    "Don''t kill them all. Spare some of them."

    "Why should I?"

    Aiyen frowned. Then he spoke.

    "You don''t mean forgiveness or tolerance, do you? Words like that, from a crumbling empire...."

    "Not that."

    Vikir held up a hand, cutting Aiyen off.

    He stared coldly at the few lights flickering in the darkness.

    " ...I''m saying that because with a group that size, there''s a good chance there''s a backup group."

    Vikir had purposely left the survivors behind, nning to map out their escape route.

    And the location of any base camps that might be in the rear.

    Aiyen paused slightly at Vikir''s demeanor, which was far harder and sharper than her own.

    Then, a smile forms at the corners of her mouth.

    "...Good, I got in."

    I''ve never been able to figure out what she''s giving passing marks for, Vikir thought.

    * * *

    Vikir''s guess was correct.

    An arrow pierced his shoulder, and Lord Smuggler scrambled to his feet and made his way through a narrow canyon between rock and boulder.

    Behind him, in a spacious campsite, were the remnants of the waiting mercenaries.

    A hundred or so men emerged from the barracks to cover the defeated soldiers.

    "We''re confident in a hand-to-handbat!"

    "Arrows will be useless against our shields!"

    "Aura users,e out!"

    "Mages, assemble! Shields to block the arrows!"

    There were many mages among the mercenaries, and soon shields were set up to block the arrows.

    But.

    ...PING!

    This time, something rather strange began to fly.

    Several arrows fell from above in a parabolic arc, with ropes hanging from their nocks.

    And at the end of each of those ropes was arge wooden barrel.

    "...oil?"

    The mercenaries muttered in despair.

    A few arrows join forces and bring the barrels down, one by one.

    Boom! Boom!

    As soon as they hit the ground or hit the shields, the barrels shatter, scattering wood splinters and spraying oil everywhere.

    Then a hail of mes began to ignite the oil.

    Crackle!

    In an instant, the inferno hadpletely surrounded the mercenaries'' base camp.

    Even if they managed to escape the fire, their food, water, medicines, and weapons were all burning inside the barracks, and it was now impossible to escape the jungle alive.

    Dead.

    Those who are unlucky enough to be dead, and those who are even unluckier enough not to be dead already, share the same fate.

    Lord Smuggler was shaking with rage.

    "Tying a rope to several arrows and sending a barrel of oil flying? Do these bastards have such brains?"

    Lord Smuggler had seen Bk''s archers fight many times, but this was the first time he knew they could fight like this.

    If only he had known how clever his enemies were, he wouldn''t have picked a fight in the first ce.

    Right then.

    As Lord Smuggler floundered in the mes, something entered his vision.

    Vikir.

    He could be seen standing still beyond the searing mes.

    Lord Smuggler gritted his teeth.

    "You bastard, did you set this up too!"

    "... ...should I say you have a keen eye?"

    Vikir said, looking around.

    All around them were bodies, mes, death, and explosions.

    It was a mockery that if he had been quicker, he wouldn''t be in this situation in the first ce.

    Lord Smuggler''s eyes rolled back in his head as he heard the words.

    "I''ll kill you, you bastard!"

    At that moment.

    Vikir picked up something.

    It was a bow and arrow.

    Ping-!

    The arrow, which flew with some force, stuck into Lord Smuggler''s lower abdomen.

    "Uh-huh!"

    It hit him in an obscure spot. A spot that wouldn''t kill him immediately, but would still be quite painful and deadly.

    "...Gosh, I wasn''t exactly aiming for that."

    Vikir cleared his throat apologetically.

    He''d learned archery from Aiyen, but he still felt he wasn''t good enough.

    Kirik.

    Sorry is sorry, and regardless, Vikir draws another shot.

    Lord Smuggler stretched out his bloodied hand and waved it in anger.

    "Now, wait a minute, you can''t kill me, or you''ll be terribly sorry! I''m serious!"

    "Why is that?"

    Vikir asked, and Lord Smuggler dug into his bosom and pulled out a bloody piece of paper.

    "This, this is a prospecting permit from the city of Underdog! It''s real! It''s not a forgery! It has the stamp of the newly appointed Deputy Magistrate! I have the Baskervilles behind me!"

    Lord Smuggler''s words were true, for now.

    He was one of the researchers officially licensed to explore.

    Vikir paused for a moment, then said.

    "Bring it over here."

    Vikir gestured toward Lord Smuggler.

    Lord Smuggler winced in pain, but took the bloody license and held it out in front of Vikir.

    With his other hand, he reached for the dagger hidden in his waistband.

    Just then.

    Tsk-tsk.

    Vikir wiped the tan from his face.

    At that moment, Lord Smuggler''s eyes widened to tears.

    "Da, are you...!?"

    Recognizing Vikir''s identity, Lord Smuggler was so surprised that he dropped his dagger to the ground.

    Staring at the de on the ground, Vikir smirked dryly.

    Then he said.

    "I take it back."

    He wiped his fingers across his face and drew an X across the stigma on the permit.

    The permit became legally invalid in real time before Smuggler''s eyes.

    Having revoked the permit''s authority by tampering with it himself, Vikir finally throws it into the mes and burns it.

    At the same time.

    ...Puck!

    An arrow hits Lord Smuggler right in the middle of his forehead.

    And then.

    ...puck! ...puck! ...puck! ...puck! ...puck!

    Four more arrows lodge in roughly the same ce.

    Lord Smuggler''s skull was split several times, almost beyond recognition.

    "He was a sour one."

    Aiyen snorted,ing to stand beside Vikir.

    Just then.

    "Captain, it''s time to get out!"

    Ahun called from behind the mes.

    Aiyen quickly picked up Vikir and carried her like a princess.

    He climbs onto the back of the wolf Bakira, who is waiting behind him, and they are off like the wind.

    Behind them, the shouts of the surviving mercenaries and merchants echoed in the air.

    "The Bk areing! They don''t seem to be outnumbered! We have a chance if we give chase!"

    "Hahaha! We''re almost out of mes! The fact that they attacked with fire means they''re not confident in their own strength!"

    "We''re alive! We just need to retrieve the rest of the supplies! We''re going to counterattack the Bk!"

    Hearing that, Aiyen smirked in disbelief.

    "Idiots. They think we started the fire for them."

    "...You''ll find out soon enough."

    Vikir replied coldly.

    And then.

    Sssssssss...

    The water reacted.

    The sound of leaves in a wide area being swept in one direction in unison.

    Something huge wasing through the darkness toward them.

    Tsutsutsutsutsutsutsuts...

    A heavy ckness, even heavier than the darkness, casting its shadow across the water.

    Explosions, bright lights, and high-pitched shouting erupted from all corners of the merchants'' and mercenaries'' base camps.

    And there is one being here that seems to respond to the untimelymotion they create.

    The Madam with Eight Legs.

    A legendary piece of tales. The moment an untold horror takes an interest in this side.

    "Put out the fire! If you put out the fire, we can turn the tables...!?"

    "Counterattack! If we counterattack...!?"

    "Huh? Wasn''t there something on the other side, I just saw something big...!?"

    "Aaaaahhhh help me...!?"

    The screams die down, one by one. Fading away.

    Aiyen and Vikir clung to Bakira''s back and ran with all their might.

    ....

    Until they could no longer hear anything behind them.

 Chapter 66: Unfair Trade (4)

    <h4>Chapter 66: Unfair Trade (4)</h4>

    Vikir became a Bk hero that day.

    He had discovered the gue that was secretly weakening Bk''s warriors was actually a cheap narcotic that foreign merchants were secretly distributing, giving them a huge advantage in trade that they had been losing.

    What''s more, he took his ming arrows one step further and developed an oil barrel arrow strategy, making him an instant hero.

    His hospitality waspounded by the fact that he had already earned favor with the tribe for solving their food shortage by hunting down an oxbear that only the bravest warriors could hunt.

    Is that the reason?

    "I will allow you to bathe in the Fountain of Valor."

    Chief Aqu was happy to grant Vikir''s request.

    However, she wondered how she could grant her daughter''s request when she was so persistent.

    With such a good cause, how could anyone say no?

    Even the cranky old men who had initially objected were now looking at Vikir with smiles on their faces.

    "...."

    Only one of them, the shaman Ahheman, stroked his beard in disapproval.

    The shaman had a history of misdiagnosing drug-addled warriors as "cursed".

    While Vikir''s work has made the Bk tribe brighter and more energetic, it has also made things quite difficult for Ahheman himself.

    His position was much smaller and his voice much weaker than before.

    This is why he is unable to speak out against Vikir''s decision to enter the Fountain of Valor.

    Aiyen leaned in with a wide grin on his face and put his mouth to Vikir''s ear.

    "...."

    And then she says nothing.

    Vikir frowned and turned his head.

    "Do you have something to say?"

    "Nothing."

    "Then why are you putting your mouth in someone else''s ear."

    "Just. I wanted to."

    Aiyen still smirked in an unintentional way.

    She opened her mouth again.

    "Well, while you''re at it, why don''t you say a few words?"

    "What."

    "I''m thinking, ahhhhhhh, that guy over there seems to be an imposter."

    "Why?"

    "...I just have a hunch."

    Aiyen''s instincts, honed by hunting, were so sharp that he could sometimes predict oues without any evidence or foreshadowing.

    Vikir agreed with Aiyen.

    The only difference was that he was able to use his reason, not just his instincts, to spot something fishy about Ahheman.

    He had described the drugs the merchants distributed as a gue, a curse that could only be cured by shamanic rituals.

    In this way, he established his authority as a shaman and grew his position.

    This was despite the fact that his granddaughter, Ahul, was suffering fromplications from drugs.

    Also, Vikir still remembered what the merchants had said so casually thest time.

    "You don''t know what you''re doing! This is a sacred trade!"

    "This is a sacred trade, bowed to by the God of the Forest!"

    ''Even the Shaman of Bk blesses us on behalf of the God of the Forest...!

    Thest one cut off mid-sentence, but the sharp-eyed Vikir had already gotten a sense of what was going on.

    Vikir trantes the merchants'' words into nativenguage, and Aiyen''s eyebrows shoot up in unison.

    "We can''t let this bastard get away with this! I treated him like a freebie, and now he''s stuck with a foreign power...!"

    "Calm down. You''re still just mad. You don''t have any hard evidence."

    "Then you''re just going to stand by and watch!"

    Aiyen''s heart pounded, and Vikir spoke up after a moment of silence.

    Vikir spoke in a low voice, and Aiyen''s eyes narrowed as she listened.

    " ...You want me to do that?"

    "Yes. If we wait a little longer, it will reveal its own tail."

    "Hmm. That doesn''t sound like a bad n."

    Aiyen thought for a moment.

    But it was not in her nature to think for long.

    "I see. I suppose nothing is lost by doing as you say. Let''s just focus on what''s important right now."

    Vikir nodded at Aiyen''s words.

    As she said, getting his body back on track was the most important thing right now.

    * * *

    Afterward.

    Night came, and a beautiful full moon rose.

    The jungle seemed to have forgotten yesterday''s bloodshed in a single day.

    As the bright, round moon rose, Depht opened his mouth as if to swallow it.

    Sssssss...

    A light breeze rustled the leaves.

    Then, with a strange shifting of the earth''s crust, the rock cracked and hot water began to bubble up from beneath it.

    The Fountain of Valor.

    Blessed by Adonai, the archer god of Bk''s distant past.

    It is a holy ce that few of Bk''s warriors are allowed to enter.

    Vikir stood alone in front of it.

    In the depths of the hot, steaming waters, some sulfurous gas seems to be boiling.

    In the shallows, some small animals were the first to arrive and take a dip.

    They didn''t move as Vikir approached.

    There seemed to be an unwritten rule that animals entering the hot springs here, regardless of their food chain, did not bare their teeth to each other.

    Vikir took off all his clothes.

    He closed his eyes, pushed aside the rabbits, hares, and hedgehogs that were crowding his body, and sat down.

    "...!"

    The effect was truly eye-opening.

    As I entered the hot spring water, my internal body was quickly stabilizing.

    "That old shaman wasn''t fussing for nothing, I guess he wanted toe in."

    His mana became more pure, and the bones and muscles in his body settled into ce.

    Perhaps Baskerville had a simr effect to the River Styx flowing within it.

    The Spring of the Valor is only slightly less effective than the River Styx, but the better part is that there is no age limit on its use.

    The only downside is that it''s only avable once or twice a year, on full moon nights.

    As Vikir soaked in the hot springs, he thought about this and that.

    It had been a while since he''d been here.

    I wonder how Baskerville is doing without him, how the Underdog City is doing.

    ...Well, probably very well.

    ''Though Mr. Chihuahua is probably throwing a tantrum."

    Vikir smirked and turned away.

    At that moment, somethingpletely unexpected came into view.

    Something so unexpected that even the mighty Vikir was stunned.

    "Surprised?"

    Before he knew it, Aiyen was soaking in the hot springs beside Vikir.

    She leaned forward toward Vikir, smiling broadly, not wearing a single thread of silk.

    Seeing this, Vikir thought to himself.

    ''Even I, who have lived through the Age of Destruction, did not sense her approach. I must learn this stealthy move.''

    It would serve him well in the future.

    While Vikir mulled over his strategy.

    "...."

    Aiyen sighed, disappointed at Vikir''sck of response.

    "Have you be such a man that the sight of a woman''s nakedness has no effect on you?"

    "Don''t you go around naked all the time?"

    "Not quite. There''s a difference between naked and barely covered."

    What''s the difference?

    Vikir didn''t know what to say in response, so he simply turned his head back in the direction he''de from.

    Then, slipping up beside him and leaning back, Aiyen held up a sk and spoke.

    "Give thanks to Adonai. He found this hot spring."

    "Adonai. I recognize him."

    "Yeah? No wonder. He was the only one who could stand toe-to-toe with the ''Madame''. Now that you are a young Bk, you should have respect for him. And be proud to be his descendant."

    Vikir was struck by the words in two ways.

    The first was that the Bks viewed the concept of descendants not in terms of blood, but in terms of spirit.

    The second was that the archer Adonai was able to take on Madame Eight-Legged.

    "An archer who can fight that monster single-handedly.

    How high a level does one have to be to be able to do that, which is still a long way off for the current Vikir.

    Then.

    Aiyen turned her head.

    The tip of her clever nose was within inches of Vikir''s shoulder.

    Aiyen spoke, her face flushed with alcohol.

    "Those merchants."

    "Hmm?"

    "I knew they were going on a rampage."

    Aiyen''s face turned even redder as he remembered bargaining for diamonds and two ears of corn.

    "I had a vague idea, but it''s nice to get a good kick in the ass this time. I''m not used to getting my ass kicked. Even if you hadn''t told me, I''d have flipped it at some point."

    "I know."

    Vikir gave a smallugh.

    Then Aiyen frowned.

    "Don''tugh. I knew it. It''smon knowledge that diamonds cost more than corn in the Empire."

    "How much more expensive do you think it will be?"

    Vikir asked, and Aiyen rolled her eyes for a moment.

    Then, she spoke, sounding slightly unconfident.

    "One diamond... is worth at least ten ears of corn, isn''t it?"

    "...."

    "Or twenty?"

    "...."

    "...Thirty?

    Vikirughed.

    When he told Aiyen how much a diamond was worth in the empire, and how many ears of corn it was worth, Aiyen was horrified.

    "You''re crazy," she said, "a piece of stone is worth nothing, and corn is edible!"

    "Isn''t it pretty when it glitters?"

    "More sparkling than the dawn dew."

    "It''s hard, so itsts forever."

    "If you scratch it, it breaks, if you hit it, it splits, if you set it on fire, it burns. What is eternal?"

    As Aiyen spoke, even Vikir was at a loss for words.

    What is it that makes the difference between civilization and barbarism?

    Vikir pondered for a moment, something he didn''t usually do, on such trivial matters.

    Meanwhile.

    "...."

    While Vikir was lost in thought, Aiyen was thinking about something else entirely.

    In fact, she was going to see this through to the end tonight.

    It''s a bit of an ego thing to ask someone to pick you as a mate, so I wanted to do something naturally(?) in a natural(?) ce and in a natural atmosphere(?)., and just go through the motions.

    ''He''s cleaned up, his reputation in the vige is good, he''s not bad for a husband, and he''s going to stay there today and heal his body so that he''s good enough for his family, and then the rest will take care of itself.''

    Her mother, Aqu, had given her simr advice.

    So Aiyen had taken the plunge and brought her favorite drink to bathe beside Vikir.

    But.

    "But doesn''t your presence halve the mystical effects of the hot springs? Why did youe in? Surely the chief said only I shoulde in?"

    Vikir is now sitting there arguing about this.

    Aiyen blurted out in disbelief.

    " ...Does it matter now? A true Bk doesn''t argue about such trivialities."

    "It doesn''t matter, but I''m just asking, not arguing, but just to be sure. If you don''t want to answer, you don''t have to."

    Vikir replied with a nonchnt expression, and when he turned away again, Aiyen''s brow rose.

    " ...Show me what it is to be sure?"

    A moment.

    ...Boom!

    There was a ssh.

    Aiyen jumped to his feet and snapped at Vikir.

    Vikir''s expression was still nonchnt, but his pupils were dted with a hint of surprise.

    Seeing that, Aiyen grinned wickedly and climbed on top of Vikir''s body.

    "You shall remain still, ve."

    "...."

    "This master will take care of...."

    At that very moment.

    A crackle, a crackle, a crackle!

    A myriad of sshes erupted from beyond the spring.

    A few shadows begin to creep through the steam.

    "Wow- it''s the Master!"

    "Brother Vikir!"

    A group of children began to rush in from nowhere.

    "????"

    Aiyen looked up, dazed.

    Vikir, pinned beneath her, turned her head as well.

    Bk''s children had been swarming into the hot springs for some reason.

    Each and every one of them was sick from the side effects of the drugs the merchants were selling.

    Naked, the children scurried toward Aiyen and Vikir.

    "Master, let''s y!"

    Aiyen cried out.

    "Hey, you two, you''re halving the mystical effects of the hot springs! Who told you toe in here!"

    "the patriarch-oh!"

    When the children replied in a stammering voice, Aiyen pped her forehead with the palm of her hand.

    She was being yed by his mother.

    Even by her mother.

    "You''re talking differently. You said earlier that a true Bk doesn''t argue about such petty matters..."

    Vikir pointed out with a serious face.

    Aiyen sighed deeply.

    The children were already ying with the rabbits, hedgehogs, and squirrels that hade in earlier.

    Vikir is soaking in the hot springs, just trying to recover.

    Aiyen, having given up on everything, opened his arms to Vikir.

    "Wee to officially be a member of the Bk."

    She doesn''t know what else to say.

 Chapter 67: Blood Relatives (1)

    <h4>Chapter 67: Blood Rtives (1)</h4>

    The four seasons of the jungle are quite distinct.

    Summer. Crazy summer. Winter. Crazy winter.

    Beyond the vast expanse of water, beyond the forest, the seasons have changed many times.

    And here, in a quiet meadow at the beginning of the season.

    ...Puck!

    A dull noise is heard.

    A Bk warrior, probably in histe teens, winced, clutching his nose.

    "Oh, my nosebone!"

    He grunted, his nose dripping with blood. It was Ahun.

    And in front of him stood an impassive-looking man with an extended fist.

    Tall, ck hair cropped casually, cold eyes, and pale skin.

    Vikir stared down at Ahun with a grim expression.

    "That''s enough hand-to-handbat."

    His taskplete, Vikir turned away without another word.

    Ahun grabbed hispanion''s hand to help him to his feet.

    As Vikir walked away, Ahun spat at the back of his head.

    "You bastard, you''ve be more and more of a monster since you''ve been restored."

    The others around him snickered.

    "You used to be a great fighter. Nowadays, your bow skills are amazing. From what I''ve heard, you''re on par with Captain Aiyen."

    "Oh, I don''t see how I canpare to Captain Aiyen, and judging by his fist just now, he''s not that great."

    "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Ahun''s nose was bleeding, but that''s something I can handle."

    As his coworkers exchanged giggles, Ahun spoke in a low voice.

    "... it didn''t hit."

    "What?"

    "The fist. I didn''t get hit."

    Ahun felt a chill run down his spine.

    Sure enough, Vikir had extended his fist. And stopped in front of his face.

    The pressure of the wind that followed was enough to make Ahun''s nose bleed and his bones jolt.

    " ... You did this with just the wind from your outstretched fist?"

    The others'' mouths dropped open in disbelief.

    They can only stare nkly back at Vikir''s back, now a tiny vanishing point in the distance.

    * * *

    Vikir just turned seventeen this year.

    His face has aged a lot.

    His short stature grew with each passing day, and his chubby cheeks grew thinner.

    The 24 months in the water did a lot for Bikir.

    Not only has his body fully recovered, but he is much stronger in body and spirit.

    Realizing that Ahun and the other warriors his age were no longer ring at him, Vikir showed his true strength.

    ...Pow!

    The magic sword Beelzebub pierced through the arteries of his wrist.

    The de had grown thicker and longer. Beelzebub could now pull out nearly a meter.

    Vikir swung it around, testing out shes and thrusts.

    ...snap! Qua-qua-qua!

    The boulder in front of him split in two, and the boulder next to him was pierced with a hole.

    Vikir''s swordsmanship was quite advanced, considering that it was generally more difficult to deliver a shing blow than a thrusting one.

    As soon as Vikir destroyed the two boulders, he sent four more flying.

    A total of six boulders were destroyed almost simultaneously.

    Torn, cracked, pierced, impaled, sliced, and split.

    It was the fierce teeth of a hunting dog that destroyed the rocks.

    "The sixth teeth."

    You have mastered the Sixth Teeth of Baskerville.

    The six teeth that had been rampaging just a moment ago sank back into his wrist, and Vikir cooled the sweat that covered his body.

    The boiling mana in his body is now spinning at high speed in six circles.

    With this, Vikir had reached the upper levels of the Perfect Gradient.

    ''But I still can''t get past the Master''s wall.

    Masters are something.

    Even though I''m a graduate, I''ve only just gotten there, and at this rate, I''m not even close to where I was in my previous life.

    It was the forty-year-old Vikir, before his regression, who was unable to break through the Master''s barrier and ended up at the very top of the Graduate.

    It sounds like a pun, but there was definitely a middle wall between the peak of the graduate and the Swordmaster that needed to be crossed.

    "''Superior Graduate.''

    The ability to manipte liquid auras that were so thick and sticky that they felt like solids.

    Only by reaching this level could one fully regain the power of their previous life. You will also be able to break through the walls of masters.

    But aside from reaching the peak of the Graduate, Vikir was confident that he could fight and defeat a Graduate in real life.

    One weight ss above. An ability that allowed him to kill stronger opponents.

    This was thanks to the protection of the River Styx, which made his bones and flesh tough and hard, the magic sword Beelzebub, and the archery and assassination skills he learned from the barbarian warriors of Bk.

    " ... to the peak of the graduate at full power?"

    But I wouldn''t say I''m really good at pushing that hard.

    And since my real goal is Hugo Les Baskervilles, Sword Master of the House of Baskerville, I''ll have to work harder anyway.

    With that, Vikir returned to the vige.

    At the entrance to the vige, young hunters who were about to go out hunting were waiting for the blessing of the shaman Ahheman.

    They still had dark charcoal dust on their faces.

    It''s a ritual that prevents the spirits of the prey they kill from remembering their faces.

    "...."

    Ahheman stood wordlessly, ring at Vikir as if he didn''t like thete arrival.

    But that didn''t stop him from giving his blessing to Vikir, who always performed the best when he was out hunting.

    Malmanama. If he didn''t bless Vikir, and he performed well on his own, it would only prove that the shaman''s blessing meant nothing.

    Next, Ahheman quickly dusted Bikir''s face with charcoal powder, which he did so sloppily that Vikir''s white skin showed through in spots.

    "...Well, the hunting gods will be with you."

    "...Thank you."

    Vikir didn''t really need Ahheman blessing, either, so they parted on good terms.

    Meanwhile.

    Aiyen was receiving reports from the returning shift hunters before they went out on the hunt.

    She listened quietly, with a rare look of seriousness on her face.

    Vikir approached Aiyen and asked.

    "Aren''t you going hunting?"

    "Mmm. Maybeter."

    It was unusual for Aiyen to reject Vikir.

    Usually, she would approach Vikir before he could ask or suggest anything, but today she was serious.

    "...?"

    Vikir was a little puzzled, but didn''t press the issue.

    Soon, armed with a worn longsword, bow, and arrows, Vikir sets off into the depths of the marsh without a single wolf to follow.

    The other hunters pay him little attention, as his simple attire, equipment, and short stature allow him to outperform most other hunting parties.

    Except for one, ...Aiyen.

    "Is he gone?"

    Aiyen turned to see that Vikir hadpletely disappeared.

    The subordinate who had been reporting nodded and spoke up again.

    "Shall I report back in detail?"

    "Yes. Do so."

    Aiyen listened, and the subordinate resumed his report.

    "To summarize, four things. First, the rainy season ising."

    Earlier, the search party had passed by a stream and spotted an unusual creature.

    It was a fish called a "lungfish.

    These fish have lungs that allow them to breathe through their lungs, which allows them to stay out of the water for quite some time.

    pping their fins and crawling through the mud, they sleep in deep wet mud during the dry season, only to wake up as the rainy season approaches and the moisture in the air increases.

    Bk hunters don''t eat meat without scales because they consider it unclean, so they don''t specifically hunt lungfish, but their presence means that the rainy season ising.

    The rainy season brought many bad things, such as flooded rivers and gues, so they needed to be prepared.

    "Secondly, we found suspicious strangers."

    Aiyen narrowed his eyes at the next report.

    They were white-skinned Imperials.

    He wondered if they were remnants of the merchant and mercenary groups he''d exterminated two years ago, but of course they weren''t.

    They came in quietly and went out quietly, and the only thing they did was release something at the river''s source.

    A red liquid in a ss jar.

    The suspicious men poured it into the river and then slipped back through the jungle.

    Bk''s warriors captured one of the dogs, who immediately consumed the poison they had hidden in his mouth and killed himself.

    All he left behind was a dagger with the markings of a single,rge snake on it.

    Aiyen clutched it in her arms. He would ask Vikir what it waster.

    If Vikir knew anything, he would surely know about this sigil.

    "Third, an updated report on the Rococo."

    The subordinate continued his report.

    The Rococo were a rival tribe to the Bk, and just as all of the Bk were excellent archers, all of the Rococo were shamans.

    Masters of curses and spells, they went by the name of ck magic in the Empire.

    Aiyen frowned.

    Reports indicated that the Rococo tribe had made few appearances in Bk territorytely.

    This was strange, considering they outnumbered the Bk by nearly ten to one.

    Then came the final report.

    "Fourth, a search party from Morg."

    It was this fourth report that caught Aiyen''s attention the most.

    "Have theye again?"

    "Yes. They''re more frequent than before."

    "And theirmander? The same?"

    "Yes. It''s ''her'' again."

    Aiyen''s face crumpled at his subordinate''s report.

    For the past two years, Morg''s search parties had been tirelessly scouring the surface.

    And the leader of the search party has remained the same.

    Morg Camus.

    She was almost there.

 Chapter 68: Blood Relatives (2)

    <h4>Chapter 68: Blood Rtives (2)</h4>

    After hearing the report, Aiyen frowned.

    " ...You mean she''s still out there?"

    For the past two years, Morg Camus had been steadily searching all over the surface of the water.

    In the name of exterminating barbarians and searching fornds, no one knows what her true purpose is.

    Except for one person. Aiyen.

    ''Obvious.''

    I didn''t have to ask, I could rte to her purpose.

    She''s looking for a man who disappeared two years ago.

    Vikir.

    Aiyen remembered the first time he''d met Vikir.

    The little boy who had saved her from dying in a cage. She hadn''t forgotten his face since then.

    But when she saw him again, he had another woman in his arms.

    The woman in his arms was Camus, and she had not forgotten the boy and hade back to this dreadful watery ce.

    He was determined to find him alive, or at least to retrieve his corpse.

    She searches for Vikir with a strand of hope, an expectation she can''t let go of, and an unfulfilledment.

    Her persistence and determination over the course of two years is something that makes Aiyen''s tongue curl.

    "If you came for the rubies, you should go back for the rubies. You''re a pain in the ass."

    Aiyen crossed his arms and was silent for a moment.

    He was trying to decide if he should tell Vikir this story or not.

    * * *

    In the jungle. Aiyen retraced Vikir''s steps.

    She soon found him ahead of her, stalking his prey.

    Aiyen rode up to Vikir on the back of the wolf Bakira.

    Bikir was measuring the depth of the muddy marks.

    "Mushuhushu, the water snake. It''s a very old andrge one. If we catch it, it will feed the entire vige for at least three days."

    Vikir knew his prey''s size, weight, direction of travel, location, age, health, and even its current mood.

    All of this he had learned from the hunters of Bk.

    "...."

    Aiyen stared at Vikir in disbelief.

    Vikir had changed a lot in the past two years.

    He still had his cute face, but his aura was much moremanding.

    Two years ago, he could still pretend to do anything by himself, but now he was more experienced than ever.

    As such, the boy was definitely bing a man.

    ''Indeed, the woman of Morg is unforgettable. What a man he is.

    Aiyen nodded.

    As the next leader of the hostile faction, but a woman before that, she could sympathize with her sentiments.

    Aiyen opened her mouth to speak.

    She didn''t know why, but there was a slight tremor at the end of her voice.

    "... Look, ve."

    She hadn''t stopped calling Vikir that even after he''d been shaved.

    Vikir didn''t particrly care, so he answered without looking back.

    "What?"

    Aiyen asked, after a slight hesitation.

    "What was it like where you came from?"

    "...?"

    Vikir was silent for a moment at Aiyen''s question.

    Where I used to live.

    Did he mean Baskerville, or the world before the regression?

    Vikir answered by blurring the two ces together.

    "Hell."

    Aiyen scratched her head at that answer.

    Then she asked what she really wanted to ask.

    "Do you want to go back to where you came from?"

    "...."

    At that, Vikir paused and looked back.

    At this point, Bikir did a small flinch.

    "Why do you ask that, and with such a strange look on your face?"

    Aiyen felt a little embarrassed, not knowing what expression she was making.

    In fact, even at this moment, she was hesitating.

    Should she tell the story or not? Should she tell him that the Morgans were looking for Vikir?

    She hesitated, then closed her eyes tightly.

    She swallowed hard and said.

    "I don''t want to lie or hide anything."

    "...?"

    "''She'' is looking for you."

    I said it, finally.

    Aiyen balled her fists into tight knots.

    Hiding things, lying, and being watched were usually her least favorite things.

    And even more so, she didn''t want to do it to Vikir.

    As she spoke the words out loud, Aiyen felt a mixture of relief and frustration.

    What if Vikir told her he was going to leave her? Should he do it by the tribe''sws? Was it even possible?

    Thoughts raced through his mind.

    Then.

    Vikir''s answer came back.

    "I''m not going back."

    A short answer. With those words, Aiyen felt the power that had been so tightly woven into his body suddenly loosen.

    A warm glow filled every inch of his body as the energy drained away.

    "...You, really?"

    "Yes."

    Vikir nodded.

    Why would he go back?

    If he went back, he would have fully regained his former powers.

    At the very least, it would have to be when he could hide his powers perfectly from Hugo''s notice.

    "...And who is she?

    Vikir frowned for a moment.

    Was he referring to Morg''s Camus?

    If so, he should be grateful. She still remembers the grace that saved her life.

    ''She''s more loyal than I thought. Or is this some sort of diplomatic gesture?''

    Vikir closed his eyes and thought about it.

    If the Morg were looking for her, it meant they were still within Baskerville''s territory.

    If the Baskervilles were willing to allow Morg''s search party to enter the depths, it would mean that he had not yet been forgotten by his current family.

    Furthermore, the alliance between Morg and Baskerville would have been strengthened.

    Perhaps that''s why they have an annual event where they find themselves, formally or otherwise.

    He could sense that the situation outside wasplicated and tense.

    Sooner orter, Vikir thought, he would have to sneak out of the depths.

    Just then, Aiyen spoke up, her voice sounding much lighter.

    "Oh, by the way. I have something else for you."

    She pulled an object from her bosom.

    It was the dagger left behind by the mysterious intruders mentioned in thest report.

    "Do you know anything about this sigil?"

    It was a dagger with a sigil,rge snake on it.

    Bikir''s eyes narrowed at the sight of it.

    "I know of it. It''s a famous mark."

    It was the emblem of a certain family in the Empire.

    "Leviathan, the Extremist."

    One of the seven great houses of the Empire, alongside the Irondes of Baskerville, the Mages of Morg, the Quavadis of Faith, the Bourgeois of Tycoon, and others.

    But why would it be found here in the depths at this time of year?

    Vikir''s head began to spin rapidly.

    "Do you mind if I keep this?"

    "Well, do as you please."

    Aiyen nodded readily.

    Vikir took the dagger with the snake on it.

    Just then.

    [gurgling... gurgling!]

    An unpleasant cry came from somewhere.

    Vikir and Aiyen turned to find themselves in a muddy mangrove forest.

    Arge mass was crawling through the gnarled roots.

    A lungfish, a fish that breathed with two lungs.

    It crawled through the mud, its smooth, scale-free body oozing sticky mucus.

    It was a fish that wasn''t even considered food because of its enormous size, over eight meters long, unpleasant appearance, and cries.

    Aiyen frowned in disgust.

    "It''s definitely the rainy season, with all those things running around."

    "If there are big ones around, it must mean... that this rainy season is long."

    Vikir nodded in agreement.

    The muddy ground bore the unmistakable tracks of giant lungfish.

    Aiyen pointed to a rotting, fallen tree.

    Dozens of meters up in the air, the tree''s rungs hung with dried aquatic vegetation.

    "Last year, during the rainy season, the water was up there."

    "It might be higher this time."

    When it rains, the water rises unimaginably fast.

    The lungfish know this and crawl out from under the mud in advance.

    The moment.

    "...!"

    The eagle-eyed Aiyen had spotted something.

    He could see something sticking out of the body of the giant lungfish he had just crawled over.

    It was a harpoon.

    "''Look at that?"

    Aiyen moved immediately.

    She shot an arrow through its head, killing it, and then drew a knife and sliced open its stomach.

    A half-digested human figure emerged from its stomach.

    Aiyen''s expression hardened.

    "They''re Rococo."

    Brave men who live on the blood and milk of bears.

    They were rivals to the Bk and the second most powerful tribe on the depths.

    They had a cannibalistic culture, and every tribe in the jungle feared them.

    Except for the Bk.

    Bikir spoke bluntly.

    "Does the fact that they have entered Bk''s territory mean... war?"

    "Well, I don''t think so."

    Aiyen nced at the harpoon embedded in the lungfish''s body.

    The harpoon hadn''t been driven in from the outside, but had protruded from the inside out.

    In other words, the Rococo hunter wasn''t trying to hunt the lungfish, but the lungfish was trying to hunt the rococo hunter.

    As it swallowed the hunter, the harpoon the hunter was holding pierced the lungfish''s stomach wall and protruded outside its body.

    But one question remains.

    Lungfish are big, but they''re also skinny and slow, so they couldn''t have eaten Rococo''s seasoned hunter.

    Moreover, the condition of the skeleton suggested that the hunter was a young man, perhaps just entering his twenties.

    Aiyen set her jaw.

    "I wonder, why was this guy eaten by a lungfish? Lungfish are basically stupid beasts that pick up dead things and eat them."

    "He must have been weak enough to be eaten by a lungfish."

    "What kind of creature goes out hunting when it''s that weak?"

    Aiyen''s questions were valid.

    Vikir had a short answer.

    "Only if the tribe''s situation is so bad that a man that weak needs to go hunting."

    It could be a stretch.

    It could be that the hunter was simply weakened by external factors at the wrong time.

    But the skeleton didn''t show any signs of trauma.

    Nail scratches on the inside of its esophagus and stomach wall suggest that it had struggled, but with very little force.

    "I don''t feel right."

    Aiyen instinctively sensed something was wrong.

    Vikir and Aiyen began to search the area.

    Given the extent to which the body had been digested, and the speed at which lungfish travel, there should still be traces of it around.

    Soon, they began to find traces of the hunter''s life.

    When he was alive, he had moved around with an unsteady step.

    He had no idea that this was Bk''s territory, only that he was moving about in a frenzy of activity.

    There were signs that he was searching for a small, weak beast, or perhaps a tree fruit.

    This was a stark contrast to the normally valiant Rococo hunters, who usually huntedrge beasts.

    What could have turned the Rococo''s belligerent hunters into this?

    Vikir and Aiyen continued to retrace their steps.

    Eventually, they approached Rokoko''s territory.

    "...!?"

    They both spotted something.

    Several of Rokoko''s hunters were gathered in a simple campsite.

    With ancient dark elf blood in their veins, every member of their tribe is known for their beauty.

    They are skilled in ck magic, witchcraft, curses, andmand, and their uncanny beauty gives them a unique and sinister aura.

    As a result, they were an unusually vulnerable tribe to ve hunting.

    But it wasn''t their appearance or aura that struck Vikir and Aiyen.

    ...It was the fact that all of the Rococo hunters were dead.

 Chapter 69: Blood Relatives (3)

    <h4>Chapter 69: Blood Rtives (3)</h4>

    All of Rococo''s hunters were dead.

    Vikir and Aiyen approached through the foul odor and heat of the corpses.

    "Is this ...?"

    Aiyen''s eyes narrowed.

    Rococo''s hunters were talkative, even in death.

    They were screaming with every fiber of their being why they were dead.

    There were signs of vomit and diarrhea everywhere, signs that they had tried to warm their chilled bodies with bonfires and fallen leaves, and, crucially, red spots on their skin.

    Aiyen swallowed hard.

    "So this is what warriors look like when theye out to hunt."

    Only the rtively healthy would have gone hunting.

    He had no idea what the condition of those left behind in the vige would be.

    "Let''s go."

    Vikir led the way.

    Vikir and Aiyen walked straight through the channel and into Rococo''s territory.

    Normally, they im arge radius as their territory and leave markers along the way.

    They usually hang skulls or corpses to warn trespassers, but strangely, the markers hadn''t been updated.

    They had been left up for a long time and were already covered in moss and mold, making them hard to recognize.

    It was uncharacteristic of the Rococo, who were usually diligent about warning off intruders.

    "Something must have happened to the vige."

    Aiyen pushed through the Rokoko''s boundaries and headed for the low-lying hills that were their home.

    There was no sign of life inside the vige.

    Nor was there any smoke, despite the fact that it was past mealtime.

    At the entrance to the vige, Vikir and Aiyen stopped in their tracks.

    It wasn''t theck of guards. There were no people wandering around inside the vige at all.

    The haphazardly constructed barracks were empty, their floors overgrown with weeds.

    Crude household itemsy abandoned on the ground everywhere.

    "Where did they all move to?"

    Aiyen frowned and walked into the barracks, pulling on his insignia.

    The moment.

    Yue Yue Yue-.

    A huge swarm of flies burst out of the barracks.

    The stench of filth and rotting meat was overpowering.

    Inside the tenty three small children and a woman.

    They all looked as if they had died not long ago.

    Vikir walked past the insignia of the other barracks next door.

    "The others are simr."

    The natives of Rococo had been exterminated before they could even get out of their barracks.

    Most of the bodies were rotting and unrecognizable, but the skin of the few that were still in rtively good shape after their deaths was invariably marked with red spots.

    "What is this, a gue?"

    Aiyen said, shaking off the chills that ran down his spine.

    Jungle warriors are particrly sensitive to poisonous gues. No wonder Aiyen was so frightened.

    "...."

    Vikir''s mouth fell open, speechless.

    Now that he thought about it, he had heard of this event before his regression.

    "...The Red Death."

    The memory became clearer the more he stuttered.

    A dreaded gue called the Red Death had certainly been circting around this time.

    A ss one gue that killed nearly every barbarian and simr in the jungle.

    It was so widespread that it even reached the borders of the Empire.

    Once infected, the victims were crippled, lying helpless and slowly dying.

    Their metabolism is extremely slow, and it takes a long time to die.

    Red spots would appear all over the body, vomiting and diarrhea would ur, lethargy and pain would overwhelm them, and they would finally copse and die.

    The contagion was so rapid that the savages feared that mere eye contact with a sick person was contagious.

    "How did they cure it?"

    Bikir searched his memory a bit more. It was so long ago that it seemed to take a moment to recall.

    Then.

    "No, ve!"

    A hand tugged at Vikir''s cor.

    He turned to see Aiyen shouting urgently.

    "Quickly, we must get out of here!"

    "Why?"

    "Why? It''s a curse! It''s a curse from the gods!"

    For once, she was actually scared.

    Bikir grinned and grabbed her wrist.

    "Don''t worry. It''s a gue."

    "What!? That''s even worse! We have to get out of here! This ce is cursed! You Rococo bastards, every time you practice your unholymands, you end up like this...!"

    "Calm down, it''s not that easily transmitted."

    Vikir nced back at Rokoko''s vige.

    Aiyen jumped in surprise, but she didn''t run off on her own.

    She merely shivered, clinging to Vikir''s cor and following closely behind.

    "Ugh... ugh. Aren''t we really being cursed?"

    "If you''re so scared, go back first."

    "And if you die because you''re cursed?"

    "If you die, you die."

    Vikir answered nonchntly, and Aiyen, who had been trotting along behind him, shouted.

    "Who cares!"

    "...?"

    "Of course it''s me," Vikir thought, but didn''t bother to say it out loud.

    Well, whatever.

    After a quick walk around their vige, Vikir realized that the Rococo weren''t wiped out.

    They just seemed to have moved on, leaving their dead and sick behind.

    "Hmm, well. If there were carriers among the survivors, the oue would be simr no matter where they fled.

    Vikir sympathized with the survivors, who had been forced to make a desperate choice.

    But there was no guarantee that they would be safe from the Red Death.

    Still, this was a chance to learn more about the mysterious life of the Rococo tribe.

    Vikir searched the Rococo''s barracks, grabbing a few books and other items that seemed important and stuffing them into a sack.

    They would one day make a great schrly contribution to the study of the enemy and the barbarian tribes of the ck Mountains.

    Just then.

    I heard Aiyen''s screams from outside the barracks.

    "Kaaaaaah!"

    It was an urgent scream, and Vikir quickly ran out of the barracks.

    Then Aiyen''s terrified screams became more pronounced.

    "The curse! Cursed child!"

    A terrible fear of the gue is characteristic of all the natives of depths.

    Vikir silently shifts his gaze to look in the direction Aiyen is looking.

    He saw the child standing on the outskirts of the vige, next to the smallest and most shabby barracks.

    "...Imperial?

    Vikir squinted.

    The child did not appear to be from the Rococo.

    Could he have just turned five?

    She had ck hair, red eyes, and skin as white as snow.

    She was standing barefoot next to a crumbling, shabby barracks, and she didn''t seem to want to leave.

    Behind the barracks rose a crude stone cairn that looked like it hadn''t been built for long.

    A few purple flowers, apparently freshly plucked,y haphazardly in front of it.

    "Aaahhhh! It must be a ghost, a cursed child of the forest god! We must flee, Vikir! You go first, I''ll be right behind you! A, my legs are weak...!"

    Aiyen was shaking and sobbing.

    Vikir smiled wryly at the sight of the child he hadn''t seen in the past two years of living together.

    But aside from that, she felt like she needed to know who this child was.

    "I can recognize thest of the Rococo tribe."

    Vikir walked forward and sat down in front of the child, bringing them to eye level.

    The girl flinched as if frightened, but she didn''t avoid Bikir''s hand on her head.

    "Who are you?"

    "....?"

    Vikir asked, but the girl didn''t answer, just shook her head.

    Vikir asked a few more times, but the child didn''t answer.

    Instead, it listed a few words in a stuttering tone.

    "Rococo. ve. Kitchen ve."

    The words were a clumsy mix of rococo and imperial.

    Vikir couldn''t help but think of context in the string of words.

    "So you were a ve in the Rococo. What''s your name?"

    "...Pomerian."

    Bikir nodded at the girl''s answer.

    "Your mother must have given you an imperial name.

    Pomerian wasn''t a verymon name, but it wasn''t a very difficult one either.

    Either way, it was clear that the girl was from the Empire.

    Without further dy, Vikir moved on to the next topic.

    He was just about to ask what had happened to the Rococo tribe.

    The next words out of the girl''s mouth stiffened Vikir''s body.

    "... Baskerville."

    The moment. Bikir''s body froze as if struck by lightning.

    The Baskervilles''st name, the middle name "La," which is only given to direct female rtives.

    Not many people in the family have been given the middle names Les or La.

    Bikir''s eyes widened, and the girl tried to hide behind the barracks'' pirs as if frightened.

    No sound escaped her throat for a moment.

    That''s what happens when a person is too surprised.

    Unable to hide his disbelief, Vikir raised his hand and wiped his face a few times.

    After drying his face, he regained hisposure.

    "Child,e here."

    "...."

    The girl hid behind a pir, only peeking her head out.

    Vikir wondered what he could do to calm her down.

    Just then, Aiyen, who had been in and out of the barracks, threw something at Vikir.

    "Hey. There''s this inside. Ew, it''s not cursed, is it?"

    Vikir took what Aiyen tossed him.

    It was a small pendant made of gold.

    The front of the brooch was embossed with the tooth-like symbol of the Baskervilles.

    Aiyen remembered the Baskervilles'' emblem from the vial of potion Vikir had given her once.

    "Isn''t that your family''s symbol?"

    "...."

    That lent a little more credence to what the girl had said.

    Vikir traced his finger across the Baskerville crest on the pendant.

    The pendant was made in a style that was quite old, an essory that could only have been fashionable thirty years ago.

    ...Click!

    Vikir opened the pendant.

    Inside was a small portrait drawn with extreme precision.

    "This?"

    Vikir squinted at the portrait.

    It depicted a nameless young woman, a young man, and a girl who appeared to be in her early teens.

    The young woman had beautiful blonde hair and blue eyes, the young man had the dark hair and red eyes characteristic of the Baskervilles, and the girl in between had dark hair and red eyes as well.

    Vikir recognized the young man in the portrait at a nce.

    "Hugo le Baskerville! No way!

    It was definitely Hugo as a young man.

 Chapter 70: Blood Relatives (4)

    <h4>Chapter 70: Blood Rtives (4)</h4>

    "Why is this person here...."

    does ite out?

    Vikir stared at the portrait for a while in disbelief.

    But no matter how you look at it, it''s the same old Hugo.

    ck hair, piercing eyes, de-like bridge of the nose, strong jaw, no mustache yet. How could you not recognize this face?

    What is it? Why is Hugo''s portrait here?

    As Vikir stares in disbelief, Pomerian sneaks up on him and tugs on the pendant''s string.

    With what little strength he has, the tug seems to be a request for the pendant to be returned.

    Vikir hands the pendant back to Pomerian and asks.

    "Who are these people in the painting, and what do they have to do with you?"

    The Pomeranian flinched at the stern tone, as if interrogating a criminal.

    Vikir spoke a little softer, wanting to be gentle.

    "Who are the people in the picture, and what do they have to do with you?"

    The words were different, but the tone was the same.

    The harshness of the tone made the Pomeranian shiver uneasily.

    Then Aiyen stepped forward.

    "If you ask me like that, the I will not give you a good answer."

    "...? What did I do?"

    "You should ask her with a smile."

    Aiyen''s point made Bikir pause for a moment.

    Then a wicked grin spread across his face.

    "Who are the people in the painting?"

    The Pomeranian looked up, looking less frightened than he had earlier.

    "Oh, yes, it''s working. You were right...."

    Vikir turned his head toward Aiyen.

    A moment.

    "...?"

    Vikir''s eyes caught Aiyen''s nk expression.

    She stood there for a moment, looking into Vikir''s face, before she snapped out of it.

    "ve, did you expect me tough so hard?"

    "...."

    Vikir immediately frowned.

    He hadn''t smiled widely since he was born, so it was no wonder he was being teased.

    Then. The Pomeranian answered.

    "Mama. Grandpa. Grandma."

    Vikir''s mouth dropped open at the words.

    His head spun rapidly.

    A pendant, a faded portrait, decades old. Hugo Les Baskervilles and an unidentified young woman and a little girl. A mother and grandmother and grandfather, the Pomeranian said.

    "...What?

    Vikir had a theory.

    Hugo in the pendant is young. And the young woman next to him was probably his wife.

    And the daughter they had together, the first born.

    What if that eldest daughter was kidnapped by the Rococo tribe, and the child she bore here was a Pomeranian?

    ''Come to think of it, I''ve heard that Hugo''s personality wasn''t always as cold as it is now.''

    I don''t know much about Hugo Les Baskerville when he was in the ecliptic before he came to the Fringes, as Vikir was not yet born.

    But I had once heard a rumor from old Deacon Barrymore that Hugo had once been very friendly and homey.

    ''I thought it was nonsense at the time and shrugged it off.

    Vikir takes a moment to recall the history of the Baskervilles.

    Once based near the ecliptic, the Baskervilles had moved far to the west of the empire, to the fringes of the Red and ck Mountains, not because of a demotion.

    Hugo Les Baskerville had gone before the Emperor and requested that the entire House of Baskerville move to the fringes.

    The reason for this was the death of his first wife in childbirth, and the barbarians who had taken his first daughter, whom he loved dearly.

    This caused Hugo to hate his enemies and the barbarians beyond the ck Mountains with a passion, and he cared for his wife and children little afterward.

    After this series of events, he became an extremely cold and calcting killer, living only for the ughter of demons and barbarians.

    The Emperor deemed himpetent and entrusted him with the task of expanding the empire''s borders, and Hugo threw himself even more into his work to forget everything.

    That''s how Baskerville, Ironde, was born.

    And now. A rejected hound of the Ironborn has found an unexpected ally here.

    Pomeranian. Pomeranian Baskerville.

    Penelope, the daughter of Roxana, the woman Hugo had loved more than anything else in his life.

    And Penelope''s daughter, Pomerian.

    This means that, if my guess is correct, the girl in front of me is the direct granddaughter of Hugo Les Baskerville.

    ''... That makes me an uncle.''

    It was a strange feeling.

    Even now, nieces and nephews were being born somewhere, but none of them were girls.

    This is a Baskerville family where daughters are extremely rare.

    Come to think of it, there was not a single daughter in Hugo''s direct bloodline.

    Not even in the entire family.

    There are plenty of sons.

    "Anyway, Hugo, he''s the kind of man who only looks for sons and grandsons because he thinks men are more useful in battle.

    What do you think Hugo, the extreme warlord, the fighting demon, the man who sees his children as nothing more than tools, would do if he saw this tiny, delicate granddaughter?

    Vikir shook her head.

    No matter how I think about it, I can''t think of anything but negativity.

    And with barbarian blood in the mix, he might not be so pleased.

    Vikir reached out and ced his hand on top of the Pomeranian''s head.

    The Pomeranian flinched slightly, but didn''t shy away as he had earlier.

    Vikir spoke in a low voice.

    "Apparently, the Rococo tribe has not been treated well either."

    "...."

    "Come with me."

    If the Rococo tribe had been devastated by the gue and left, Pomerian could not remain here.

    But Pomerian stood firm, clinging to the pirs of the barracks.

    Vikir looked up and saw the reason for the Pomeranian''s reluctance to leave.

    It was the crude stone tomb behind him.

    As Vikir pondered what to do, Aiyen stepped forward.

    She bowed her head once in front of the tomb, then spoke to the Pomeranian.

    "When our ancestors leave this world, they go to heaven and be stars. So will your mother."

    "...."

    "What lies here in this stone tomb is only a shell, but your mother''s spirit is a star in the sky, looking down on you."

    "...."

    "She wishes you to leave this dreadful ce as soon as possible."

    Then the Pomeranian raised his head. He seemed to understand not only the Imperialnguage, but Bk''s words as well.

    The Pomerian pondered for a moment, then released his grip on the barracks'' pirs.

    He takes a step toward Vikir.

    ck hair, red eyes.

    Vikir and Pomerian looked exactly alike.

    Pomerian looked at Vikir and said.

    "Mommy. The hair. Eyes. The color. It''s the same."

    "Yeah. All Baskerville dogs look alike."

    Vikir picked up the Pomeranian.

    It was the first meeting of uncle and nephew.

    * * *

    Afterward, Pomerian came to Bk''s vige.

    "Uncle. Where are you going?"

    She clung to Vikir''s leg, unwilling to pull away, which was quite a challenge for a child who was used to being alone.

    "Uncle has to go to a meeting, the chieftain has summoned him."

    "Aang. Uncle. I''ll go with you."

    Pomerian seemed scared to be alone.

    Now that she had left her mother''s stone tomb, she realized that she was truly alone.

    That''s why she seemed to rely more on Vikir, who had the same hair color and eye color as her mother.

    "...I can''t help it."

    Vikir quickly picked up the Pomerian and carried him on his back.

    He looked around for something that could be used as a swaddle, and a thick, coarse pelt caught his eye.

    It was an oxbear pelt, given to me by the chieftain himself as a reward for our sessful trade.

    He wondered what he was going to use the pelt for, but he realized it was for a swaddling bag.

    Vikir carried the Pomeranian on his back and went outside.

    "I''ll have to ask the Chihuahua to do it for me ...ter."

    He couldn''t keep this girl in Bk''s vige.

    Even if he didn''t send her to Hugo, she would have to be raised somewhere out of his sight, at least within the reach of Imperial civilization.

    Vikir made ns to get out of the water and into the cityter.

    "Maybe I''ll pay a visit to Morg, too."

    It might be worth spying on the alliance with Baskerville to see how it was going.

    While Vikir pondered this, he soon arrived at the barracks of Chieftain Aqu.

    Upon entering, he finds Aqu, Aiyen, and the other elders, all wearing serious expressions.

    Aiyen and Vikir are witnesses to the meeting.

    Chief Aqu asks.

    "Yes. You mean there''s a gue going around?"

    Aiyen and Vikir nodded.

    The report went on to detail how the Rococo tribe had been wiped out, and the state of their remaining viges.

    Other hunters also testified to seeing the bodies of orcs, lizardmen, and other apes lying on the ground with red spots sprouting from them.

    Aqu stroked his chin, a serious expression on his face.

    "The rainy season ising soon, and we''re in trouble."

    If the gue came, the damage would be even worse. We had to find a way to prepare.

    Then.

    "Chief, it''s not a gue, it''s a curse!"

    Shaman Ahheman stepped forward.

    He argued that the Red Death was not a disease, but a form of witchcraft that could be cured through sacrifice.

    There were a few old elders who agreed with him.

    They emphasized that this was the time for a great ritual, and it was clear that they intended to take advantage of the asion to greatly increase the authority and power of the shaman.

    The young people, on the other hand, said that the Red Death was a gue, not a curse, and that it was time to abandon the vige and move on.

    The old and young debated heatedly between superstition and practical solutions.

    It didn''t seem like it would be easy to decide who was right.

    "Hmmm. What shall we do?"

    Chieftain Aqu was frowning.

    Someone silently raised their hand to speak.

    The one who first coined the phrase ''red death''.

    "I know how to stop this disease."

    It was Vikir.

 Chapter 71: The Red Death (1)

    <h4>Chapter 71: The Red Death (1)</h4>

    Vikir reminisced about the past, long ago.

    His mind shed back to the strange outsiders that Bk''s hunting party had seen not long ago, and the dagger with the serpentine symbol.

    ''...Come to think of it, that incident happened around this time.

    The "event" is the Red Death.

    A terrifying gue that leaves victims covered in red spots, vomiting and diarrhea, and then dying.

    The Red Death quickly spread throughout the jungle and killed a staggering number of natives.

    The Red Death raged on a scale that rivaled the ck Death that once gued the Empire.

    This dreaded gue has spread like wildfire, reaching far into the Empire''s territory.

    It was not until the Morgue''s weatherman, Camus, raised a barrier of fire to stop its spread to the borders of the Empire.

    In addition, a holy woman, Dolores, sent by House Quavadis of the Holy Order of the Sacraments, has been able to heal the sick with her unique and powerful holy powers.

    However, the cure was limited to the Empire, and the natives living in the depths of the ck Mountains suffered a death rate of nearly 40%.

    These circumstances worked in the Baskervilles'' favor.

    The barbarian tribes yed a crucial role in the Red and ck Mountains'' ecosystem, and with themrgely out of the picture as predators, lower-level demons overpopted, leading to monster waves and a spike in civilian casualties.

    The surge in their numbers has increased the influence of the Baskervilles on the border, which has only served to strengthen Hugo''s political position.

    "I can''t let that happen.

    So Vikir was going to stop this gue.

    Well, he''d heard a fair amount about the Bk over the years.

    Meanwhile.

    Within the Bk, the old and the young were at odds.

    The older generation believes that the gue should be stopped by performing rituals, and the younger generation believes that the vige should be abandoned and moved elsewhere.

    "...."

    Patriarch Aqu frowned and remained silent.

    Deep down, she doesn''t want to leave this vige, where her ancestors'' graves lie.

    And the shaman Ahheman understood her feelings.

    "How can we abandon this holy ce where our ancestors are buried? This migration is ridiculous! We have been here for nearly two hundred years!"

    There are more than a hundred ancestors'' remains in the holy sites around the vige.

    How they would be managed and cared for if they were to migrate was a key point of contention for Ahmed.

    But Aiyen, who represents the younger generation, is not backing down.

    "What if the guees back and kills all the children? Who will take care of our future then? Who will take care of the future of the tribe when the seeds of the future are gone when we go to collect the remains of our ancestors?"

    As it turns out, Bk children do die.

    Typically, Bk women start having children at age 14 and give birth to a new child every two years on average, which means they will have about ten to fifteen children in their lifetime.

    The problem is that more than half of them die within the first month of life. Only about 20% of infants survive beyond three years.

    Most of the children die from malnutrition, childhood diseases, war, and hunting idents.

    Add to that the fact that mothers die during childbirth or from the aftermath of childbirth, and the Bk have a much lower birth rate.

    Add the Red Death to the mix, and there are no answers. There is only a dark future ahead.

    Unable to bear the sight of her nmates in the midst of a generational conflict, Aqu spoke up.

    "The question is, what path does the Red Death take?"

    What is the Red Death, and why does it cling to humans?

    Unless these questions are answered, it''s essentially impossible to do anything about it.

    To Patriarch Aqu''s anguish, answers came from many quarters.

    "A curse! It must be a curse!"

    "Wrong, it is a gue transmitted through the gaze!"

    "It''s the spirits of your prey retaliating!"

    "It must be because you ate a strange looking mushroom!"

    "The ancestors are angry because we have neglected their mausoleum!"

    "There must be a poisonous insect!"

    "The gods have abandoned us, the forest gods!"

    "The imperials have brought the disease with them!"

    The people of Bk don''t know, but they don''t often say they don''t know.

    They make a virtue out of giving crappy answers.

    It was out of the goodness of his heart that he didn''t want to disappoint the person who had trusted him with the question in the first ce, but... wasn''t helping much in this situation.

    "...Hmm."

    Aqu''s brow furrowed in confusion.

    Silently, a hand came up.

    Vikir''s. His eyes met Aqu''s and he spoke.

    "If there is a way to stop the Red Death, I know it."

    * * *

    About ten days passed after that.

    tter, tter, tter.

    A demon tied to a rope was struggling.

    A goblin, the smallest and weakest of the demons ssified as simr.

    It was currently hanging upside down with its arms and legs tied to the ropes, being tortured.

    [Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!]

    The goblin was being dipped into arge pot of water, pulled out, and repeated.

    The goblin had been iling around for a while, but suddenly it became very calm.

    Soon, red spots began to appear on the goblin''s skin.

    The goblin drooled and vomited, and stopped baring its teeth.

    It slowly shudders in anticipation of itsing death.

    Meanwhile. Bk''s warriors tossed the red-faced goblin into a pile of oiled pyres and set it on fire.

    There was no room for pity, as the creature was a foul creature that kidnapped and ate human children.

    Soon, the goblin with the Red Death burned to death.

    Then Bk''s warriors turned their attention to the next goblin.

    Before them stood Aiyen, clutching the goblin''s ropes.

    "Vikir. Is the Red Death really transmitted through water?"

    At her question, Vikir, beside her, nodded.

    "Yes, it is. Contaminated water is the main culprit. But as long as you boil the water once, there''s no problem."

    "Really? Is that so?"

    Aiyen looked at Bikir with a trusting gaze.

    Then he took another pot of the same water and dipped another goblin in it forparison.

    Then.

    [Cackle!]

    The goblin died instantly.

    Vikir put his hand to his forehead.

    "When the water cools, we''ll put him in."

    "Ugh."

    Aiyen also hit his forehead with his hand.

    Soon, the water in the pot was boiling again.

    When the bubbling water had cooledpletely, Bk''s warriors dipped the goblins into it.

    Ten days passed, the incubation period for the Red Death, but the goblin did not be ill.

    Then all the warriors of Bk, including their chieftain Aqu, eximed in amazement.

    "We have found a way to ovee the Red Death!" they eximed.

    "The answer was in the water."

    "You mean just boiling water and drinking it will stop the gue?"

    "Vikir, you are a hero of our tribe!"

    The praise poured in, the looks of respect and admiration.

    The old are delighted and the young look on in admiration.

    By nature, Vikir doesn''t like to be the center of attention.

    But it is Bk custom to be sure when congratting or praising, and everyone surrounds him, drooling over him.

    Vikir responds to their praise and gratitude with a wave of his hand.

    "Anyway. You have to be careful with the water. It can''t get in your mouth or eyes. It can also be infectious through the respiratory route, so beware of the water mist at dawn."

    Always boil water before drinking. Avoid wends as much as possible.

    By following these simple rules, the incidence of red death is greatly reduced.

    Avoiding contact with the feces or corpses of the sick is justmon sense.

    "What don''t you know?"

    Vikir didn''t say anything in response to Aiyen''s admiring words.

    Aqu said.

    "Let the hunting birds spread Vikir''s teachings to the other tribes. Beware of the water."

    At that, everyone nodded. It was good for as many people as possible to know these things.

    Then Aqu rose from his seat and came to stand before Vikir.

    Vikir bowed his head in silence.

    The first time he''d met her, he''d felt a sense of gravity, like a huge mountain range weighing him down.

    But now he felt nothing of the sort.

    Instead, I felt a sense of warmth, a sense of home, and a sense ofpassion, like a real mother''s greeting.

    Aqu smiled gently.

    "Thanks to you, I can see a way out of this crisis, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart."

    One would never recognize this woman as the Night Fox from her current expression and voice.

    In response, Vikir could only bow his head.

    Then.

    "Well, the rainy season ising soon, so how can you go away from the water?"

    Someone questioned Vikir.

    The shaman, Ahheman, stared at Vikir with a stony expression on his face.

    He had once misdiagnosed a side effect from the drugs the merchants had brought as a curse.

    When Bikir insisted that the Red Death was not a curse but a gue, and that it could be prevented, he seemed to decide that his position was under threat.

    But he wasn''t entirely wrong.

    When the rainy season arrives, the rivers will overflow, and countless rains will pour down.

    The air would be filled with moisture, and there would be no way to survive the many aquatic creatures that would crawl up to the surface and carry gue.

    The preventative measures of boiling water for drinking and washing certainly had their limits.

    Bk''s warriors stirred.

    Ahheman smiled a smile of conversion as he watched the number of agitated ones grow.

    ... but.

    "The civil works must be done before the rainy season arrives."

    Vikir, still looking nonchnt, was steadily taking the next step.

    Dewatering (flood control).

    It was necessary for Bikir''s future ns.

 Chapter 72: The Red Death (2)

    <h4>Chapter 72: The Red Death (2)</h4>

    The rainy season hase to the Red and ck Mountains.

    Dark clouds covered the sky. This rainy season seemed to be the longest ever.

    There was record rainfall, the likes of which even the oldest man in the vige had never seen.

    The rivers were overflowing like crazy, and ces that had been t just a few days before were now swamps with raging torrents.

    Everything in sight was underwater.

    ...except for Bk''s vige!

    "Pull tighter, tie tighter!"

    "Pull up the stanchions!"

    "Tighten it up! It''s going to float away!"

    The low-lying vige of Bk was now on higher ground.

    It hadn''t been moved.

    They simply built floating houses out of nks and logs in the tall trees and between the trees.

    At least 15 meters above the ground, these wooden houses provided cozy shelter while the world around them was flooded by the river.

    Vikir was at the forefront of this massive civil engineering project to raise an entire vige up in the trees.

    "...Luckily, I won''t be swept away."

    Vikir thought as he looked out at the rising river just a few meters below.

    Bridges had been built between the tallest trees with ropes, nks, and logs, and the barracks were securely anchored to keep them from being blown away by the wind.

    And down below, out of sight of the water, drainage ditches had been dug between the trunks and branches of the trees.

    In some ces, rocks and earth had been piled up to create banks that redirected the flow.

    This allowed Bk''s vige to remain rtively safe from the flooding of the river.

    Some men were putting up a rope bridge made of twisted vines between trees through the rain and wind.

    They waved to Vikir as he passed by on the nk bridge.

    "Hey, Vikir! Our house is safe thanks to you!"

    "Thank you! I''m d I listened to you!"

    But Vikir didn''t respond to their greetings.

    Instead, he squinted at the huge shadow that was slowly moving toward them from the water below.

    "Dangerous."

    Vikir briefly warned the two men who greeted him.

    Hearing Vikir''s warning, the men looked down at the bridge in rm.

    Just three meters below them, in the tawny mud, a giant shadow lurked beneath the surface.

    And then.

    ...Poof!

    The surface of the water shattered and something leapt out of the water.

    It was a catfish with a giant mouth that was more than five meters in diameter!

    As soon as it broke the surface of the water, it gaped at the two Bk men above.

    This has often happened since the fire.

    Energized aquatic creatures would leap at their prey in the trees.

    But the catfish didn''t get his way.

    "Get lost!"

    Arrows fell like thunder from the tree trunks.

    It was Aiyen, protecting the men as they built the bridge.

    ...Thump!

    Several arrows pierced the catfish''s skull, and it twisted and flopped back into the water.

    Vikir scrambled across the rope bridge and up into the windswept trees.

    "Catfish!"

    He looked down, but the tawny surface of the water had already been washed away by the raging torrent.

    Seeing Vikir frown, Aiyen grinned.

    "That''s not a catfish."

    "What? Didn''t you just see it stick its head out of the water?"

    "...I guess you didn''t see the body."

    I was afraid to let him finish.

    Suddenly, the surface of the water on the other side broke and something huge rose up from below.

    Sure enough, Vikir understood what Aiyen had said.

    The head was t and the mouth was abnormallyrge, so I thought it was a catfish.

    But that impossibly long body sticking out of the water was no catfish.

    It was a giant snake.

    <Monsieur Hushu>

    Danger rating: A+

    Size: 32 meters

    Found in: Ridge 8, Red and ck Mountains

    -Named ''The Full-body Intestine Snake''.

    A snake whose entire body is made up of intestines.

    It boasts arge mouth and appetite that can swallow an elephant in one bite, and legend has it that the giant Monsieur Hushu, which has lived since time began, can swallow an entire country.

    They are notoriously silent when crawling onnd or swimming underwater.

    This giant snake of the Monsieur Hushu species was scaled and hissing as if it were about to swallow all the Bk on the floating house.

    Aiyen bit her lip.

    "Chet. You''ve got a dangerous one washed up."

    The giant rattlesnake was no match for a species that was naturally fast and strong.

    Moreover, the one in front of them seems to be quite old and experienced.

    [Shhhh!]

    The creature opened its mouth, which was sorge that it could have been a catfish, revealing a dense row of teeth that sprawled across its entire mouth.

    Aiyen quickly fired an arrow at it, but its sleek, hard scales, and the rain that blinded him, made it difficult to get a good hit.

    Then.

    "Snakes should be caught up close."

    A ck shadow hovered like a ghost behind Monsieur Hushu.

    Vikir. Moving in the darkness, he zed across the snake''s back, unnoticed by rats and birds alike, and then bared his hidden teeth.

    He sliced through the artery in his wrist, revealing the magic sword Beelzebub.

    And the slimy aura of a Superior Gradient settled over it.

    A Baskervillian carnivore.

    Six ''lurking ambush teeth'' have been released.

    Intent on inflicting terrible pain on the opponent, and nothing else!

    The blood-red aura emanating from Vakir''s sword spins at high speed.

    The hard snake scales shattered in an instant, and the soft flesh underneath exploded and scattered as if it had been blown up.

    [Kyaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh!]

    The snake screamed.

    But Vikir was unfazed, grabbing the snake by the tongue and lunging forward, his awl smashing into one of the snake''s eyeballs.

    The fatal wounds to its back neck and eyeball caused the snake to back away, sttering hot blood. It then ducked its head under the water and began to flee frantically.

    No, it was more like being swept down the torrent than fleeing.

    "...."

    Vikir briefly considered giving chase, but decided it was too much to ask in this torrential downpour.

    "It was a waste."

    Before he knew it, Aiyen was beside him, wrapping a rope around Vikir''s waist.

    Tugging on the rope around each other''s waists, Vikir and Aiyen made their way back up the branch.

    Soon, all the vigers were out on the wooden terrace watching the battle.

    "Awesome! Vikir, you were the best!"

    "That big snake is called Ka''ah, and he''s been king around here for decades!"

    "You defeated him, that''s great!"

    The vigers cheered for Vikir.

    Then Aiyen snapped.

    "You people! Didn''t you see me shoot that arrow! If it wasn''t for me, you''d be...!"

    "Oooh-"

    The kids booed Aiyen.

    "Ugh, this is why I hate kids."

    Aiyen grumbles and shakes off the mud and ssh that has drenched her body.

    He looked back at Vikir, who was dripping wet, and asked.

    "You''re not going to get the red death from getting this wet, are you?"

    "You never know. Go to the fire and dry yourself."

    Vikir strode away, as if the battle that had just urred had been a minor incident.

    Seeing that people were cheering or not, Aiyen went on his way, and he said the words he had been saying for the past two years, one more time today.

    "Pass."

    * * *

    Vikir walked into the barracks.

    Outside, the rain and wind were howling, but inside the barracks was bright and warm.

    The leather hides on the walls were still pping about, but they were secured with heavy rocks and strong ropes, so the wind wouldn''t blow them away.

    Vikir''s discovery of a way to prevent the Red Death made him a hero to the Bk, and indeed to all the jungle tribes.

    ... But the hero is a troubled man now.

    It''s a job he''s never had to do before or since his regression.

    "Uncle!"

    As soon as Vikir entered the barracks, the Pomerian rushed over and hugged him.

    Until then, he had been squatting in the corner of the barracks, staring nkly at the portraits of his family.

    Pomerian avoided everyone else but Vikir, who followed him intensely.

    She followed him around all day, never wanting to be separated, sleeping, eating, and bathing.

    " ...I want to eat."

    Vikir wasn''t sure how to respond to the child.

    It was all he could say to her.

    Afterward, Vikir made a simple fire in the corner of the barracks.

    With snails crawling everywhere in the rainy season, food was easier toe by than before.

    Vikir simply steamed snail flesh with butter, herbs, and backs made from cow''s milk.

    He then fried them in a mixture of sugar made from sugarcane and cream made from bird eggs.

    The rest of the snail flesh was mashed with spicy spices that he had bought from merchants in the past, and when served with vegetables, it became a quite edible dish.

    "Delicious, Uncle."

    "Isn''t that right, your uncle is a good cook."

    Beside Pomerian, who was cringing, was Aiyen, who was naturally cringing as well.

    Pomerian looked to Vikir, then to Aiyen.

    "Mommy. Dad. Same."

    Pomerian looked back and forth between Vikir and Aiyen and chuckled, and Aiyen rubbed his index finger under his nose.

    "As expected, the kids are really nice."

    "...I thought you said you didn''t like children ...?"

    "When did I say that."

    Vikir pressed a hand to his forehead. The barracks were already cramped because of the Pomerians, and now that they''de to Aiyen, they were even more cramped.

    "Don''t be too harsh. but at least you can go outside to pee now."

    "...."

    Vikir could only sigh at Aiyen''s attitude as she spread her legs again and swished her leather skirt.

    Just then.

    Whirring.

    The tents at the entrance were drawn back, letting in the rain and wind.

    A heavy stone had been ced on top of the gate, making it impossible for it to be blown away naturally.

    As if on cue, someone stepped out of the darkness outside the door.

    It was Ahun.

    "...?"

    Vikir and Aiyen frowned at the same time.

    Ahun had always been an annoyance, and they were already wondering what he was up to this time.

    But.

    Ahun''s expression when he entered Vikir''s barracks was unexpected.

    His blueplexion, contorted face, and the way he looked like he was about to cry.

    Then, in a desperate voice, Ahun cried out.

    "Please help me, Vikir, my sister is...!"

 Chapter 73: The Red Death (3)

    <h4>Chapter 73: The Red Death (3)</h4>

    The jungle is stormy and windy.

    The tents on the walls fluttered wildly.

    Inside the barracks, an open fire burns.

    Hot breathing echoes from the beds, which are reddened by the firelight.

    Ahul. A girl who had just turned fourteeny there, moaning.

    A pale spot on her skin, a red death, slowly eating away at her body.

    Ahul''s brother, Ahun, clung to Vikir with a contemtive look on his face.

    "Please, Vikir, please save my sister!"

    "...."

    Vikir closed his mouth and walked toward Ahul.

    Red spots on his skin, uncontroble bowel movements, soaring body temperature, pain in his joints, swelling in his neck, armpits, and groin.

    These are all signs of the red death.

    "Why did it happen?"

    "I went to the swamp to cut down trees for civil works and stopped...."

    Ahun answered for me.

    Ahul must have gotten the disease when he went deep into the swamp to cut wood.

    "What shall we do, ve?"

    Aiyen asked, looking worried.

    "There''s nothing we can do about it, though, if he''s already fallen ill."

    Prevention is something anyone can do, but cure is the domain of the experts.

    Then.

    A flutter.

    The door to the barracks opened.

    It was none other than the shaman Aheman.

    As soon as he entered, he looked at Ahul and Ahun and snapped.

    "You''re bad, you two, wandering around without listening to your grandfather!"

    Ahheman shouted, sttering spittle over Ahul''s groaning face.

    "You deserve this because you were instigated by the words of that imperial spy! Whates to me goes around!"

    "Grandfather, you speak harshly!"

    Ahun shouted back, rising to his feet.

    Mate-.

    But all that came back was a p on the ear.

    Ahun sank to his knees, his cheeks reddening, unable to get back to his feet.

    Achheman looked down at him in disdain as he fell to the ground.

    "There is nothing different from my mother-inw. worthless bastard."

    "...."

    Thick tears began to fall from Ahun''s eyes.

    Aiyen sighs with a ''here we go again'' look.

    "There is a cure."

    Vikir spoke up.

    He snorted, and Ahun''s eyes widened.

    Ahheman shoved Vikir in the chest and stormed out of the barracks.

    "This is a curse from the gods, and the only way to make amends is to make a sacrifice. Now that things havee to this, I''m sure the chieftain will agree."

    The shaman asserted his authority until the end.

    Whizz, whizz, whizz.

    The wind and raindrops rush in through the open doorway, soaking everyone.

    The only ones left in the barracks were Aiyen, Vikir, Ahun, and the sick Ahul.

    Vikir said to Ahun

    "First, I want you to collect Ahul''s feces. Make sure you don''te in contact with it. Also, sterilize the used utensils with boiling water, and burn some wormwood in the fire to drive away any mosquitoes, fleas, or bats that might be around the house."

    "Oh, I see. Is that all I have to do?"

    "Not just that."

    Vikir turned his head to look at Aiyen.

    Then he said what he had originally nned to demand, a little more quickly.

    "Take me out of the depths."

    Aiyen''s expression hardened at the words.

    There is no discrimination for those who havee from outside and be part of the Bk.

    They are free to go anywhere in the jungle, and inside the vige, they are allowed anywhere except the chief''s barracks and the shaman''s festivals.

    But only one thing.

    They are strictly forbidden to travel outside of depths.

    A Bk from outside the city can only leave the city limits if two conditions are met.

    First.

    They must have lived in the town for at least two years.

    Second.

    They must be in a rtionship with a native Bk and have given birth to three or more children.

    Vikir didn''t meet either of these requirements.

    But that didn''t stop him from asking to be taken out of the floodwaters.

    "If you let me out, I will bring a cure for the gue."

    Hearing Vikir''s words, Aiyen bit her lip.

    Would his mother and chieftain, Aqu, allow this exception? Probably not. Aqu was quite the principled woman.

    ''She would most likely abandon him.

    A small sacrifice for the greater good.

    But Aiyen didn''t want to do that.

    She didn''t want to see Ahul, who had always sung in her sweet voice and helped with theundry and cleaning, dying of vomit and diarrhea.

    ... But a more fundamental issue was tearing her apart.

    Would Vikir ever return?

    Technically, he was a foreigner who had been taken as a ve.

    If we set Vikir free and allow him to go outside the depths, will he return?

    Up until now, Vikir has been able to roam freely on his own, but only within Bk''s territory.

    If Vikir tried to run away, Bk''s rangers and wolves would find him and bring him to justice that evening when they saw that the camp was empty.

    Vikir wasn''t stupid enough not to know that.

    But getting a pass to go outside the wall was a different story.

    By the time he realized he was on the run, never to return, he would be out of reach forever.

    "...."

    Aiyen hesitated.

    It wasn''t like her to hesitate.

    In that brief moment, she thought deeply about the psychological factors that made her hesitate, and soon found the reason.

    Looking into her own mind and discovering something she didn''t even know she had.

    She looked up.

    Her eyes were already red, the color of fire. The only difference was that unlike fire, they were moist with water.

    " ....Go"

    The master''smand fell.

    * * *

    Aiyen did not report to Aqu, for it was a given that she would not approve.

    All responsibility fell to Aiyen.

    Vikir ran through the night waters with the Pomeranian on his back.

    "We can''tpletely stop the gue with a flood control anyway."

    Besides, what about the other tribes that didn''t build the flood control?

    A more fundamental solution was needed to prevent the spread of the Red Death, the revival of the empire, and even the Baskerville family.

    ...Tadak!

    Vikir crossed the river in one swift motion, stepping over logs as they floated downstream.

    With all the stuff that washed up during the floods, he could run on the river, shortening the distance.

    Just then.

    Vikir''s feet came to a screeching halt on the riverbank.

    Shoot!...

    The night was pouring with rain. A shadow streaked across the water.

    Vikir turned to find Aiyen standing there, soaked to the skin, breathing heavily.

    "Why are you following me?"

    Vikir asks, and Aiyen opens his mouth to speak, but stops himself.

    "I''m following my ve."

    "Don''t follow me."

    "I don''t want to."

    "I said don''t follow me."

    "I''m the master!"

    Aiyen shouted in a bitter voice.

    But Bikir only drew the line once more with a cold re.

    "It''s unusual to say it three times, you know that, right?"

    "...."

    "If you don''t want to follow me, don''t follow me."

    Seeing the look in Bikir''s eyes, Aiyen froze in ce, shocked.

    "How can you look at me like that?"

    She asked in a sobbing voice.

    Vikir didn''t answer.

    Then Aiyen groped for something.

    And then, after sifting through many things, he spoke.

    "Where are you going?"

    "...."

    "If you tell me where you''re going, I''ll go."

    "No."

    "Why are you taking Pomeranian?"

    "...."

    " ...Can''t you at least leave him with me?"

    A sight to behold, not knowing who was master and who was ve.

    ...No, Aiyen, she knew from the beginning.

    It was something she''d felt from the very beginning, from the first time she''d seen his gaunt face on stage, when she''d been locked in the cage of the ve traders.

    That she would spend the rest of her life beneath him.

    The realization dawned on her as she stood in the pouring rain.

    She spoke, shivering, her voice damp with moisture.

    "Then answer me this one question."

    "...what?"

    Vikir asked, and Aiyen took a long breath before she spoke.

    "You''reing back, right?"

    "...."

    The voice crawled. A tone that hung with anxiety, impatience, and hunger.

    And for once, Vikir answered quickly.

    "Of course."

    Only then did Aiyen''s expression soften.

    She blew out a white breath of relief.

    "''You keep your word.

    "...."

    "I will."

    Vikir nodded.

    And then.

    The hounds ran through the dawn again.

    A darkness that swallowed him whole.

    And there is one master here who stands still and watches its fading back.

 Chapter 74: The Hound of the Night (1)

    <h4>Chapter 74: The Hound of the Night (1)</h4>

    In the southwestern part of the Empire, among the neat, polished buildings, lies the city of St. Ma, the center of the estates of the Quavadis family of religious saints.

    The white-stoned boulevards, slow-moving carriages, and casual footsteps of people on foot give the city an air of leisure.

    At the entrance to the city, pdins in white armor and robes stand guard.

    Then.

    Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding.

    A carriage drawn by three horses pulls up to the checkpoint.

    The pdins screening entry into the city stopped the carriage.

    "There will be a brief checkpoint."

    The merchants from the wagon then offered the pdins their passes and identification cards.

    The pdins took them and scrutinized them.

    "You must be Mr. Joseph Josta of the Oil Merchants, 108 Dortmund Street, first floor. What is in your wagon?"

    "Oil, as it says on the import permit ...."

    The merchant stroked his mustache and looked back.

    Sure enough, the wagon''s interior was filled withrge tin barrels.

    The pdins nced inside.

    "Do you mind if we check inside?"

    "Of course."

    The merchant nodded, and the pdins drew their swords and climbed onto the wagon.

    The wagon lurched slightly as the three or four heavily armed knights climbed in.

    The pdins carefully examined the barrels inside the wagon.

    They were heavy, each with a tightly sealed lid.

    The pdins rapped the barrels together.

    ...Boom!

    They could feel that they were filled to the brim with oil. All of the barrels were like that.

    "Can I not take this one?"

    "Of course not. There''s more than oil in these barrels."

    The pdins nodded at the merchant''s words.

    " Pass!"

    And with that, the wagon drove through the gates and into the city.

    A short timeter. The carriage pulled into the outskirts of a deserted street, into a deserted back alley.

    The merchant checked his surroundings a few times before lifting the lid of the oil barrel.

    ...Poof! Poof!

    He took a giant crowbar and twisted the lid, and with a loud bang, the barrel popped open.

    The iron lid, which had been tightly sealed, bent and opened, revealing the oil inside.

    The merchant called out in an anxious voice.

    "...,e out now."

    He did. And then something amazing happened.

    Pow!

    The surface of the ck oil cracked, revealing a figure inside.

    It was a man wearing a ck hat like a pirate captain, a stork''s beak gas mask like a doctor specializing in infectious diseases, and a thick trench coat.

    He stepped out of the barrel, covered in ck oil, and stood on the floor of the wagon.

    The merchant began to shudder at the grotesque sight.

    Then, the stork gas mask man reached into his pocket and handed the merchant something.

    It was a set of oiled teeth, the fangs of the prized oxbear.

    "Go, thank you."

    The price he''d agreed to ept in exchange for hiding in the wagon and passing through the gates.

    The merchant bowed and took the oxbear''s tooth and put it in his pocket.

    Then, dripping with oil, the man began to walk away down the back alley.

    At his heels, the merchant stammered, "Who are you?

    " ..., but who are you?"

    The man flicked his stork''s beak and replied in a short, sharp voice.

    "The Hound of the Night."

    With that, he melted into the darkness of the alley and disappeared.

    The merchant, left alone, stared at the bubbling oil in the tin and muttered despairingly.

    " ...How does a man stay submerged in oil for over two hours?"

    * * *

    The Night Hound went back to the back of the dark alley and removed his mask.

    "Pooh!"

    Vikir eximed. He shook the oil off his body and breathed heavily.

    He hadn''t been underwater this long since he''dsted seven minutes in the Styx River when he was barely a year old.

    Today, he''d sneaked into the estate of the Quavadis family, a n of holy men.

    "...the hound of the night."

    It''s a reference to the Bk chieftain Aqu''s star sign, "Fox of the Night," but it doesn''t sound quite right.

    But it was much better than being called the Hound of Baskerville before the regression, Vikir thought.

    "...."

    Vikir took a moment to reminisce.

    It had taken them exactly four days to get here.

    Two days to get out of the depths, a day to explore the Baskerville family estate, and another day to infiltrate the territory of the Faithful Quavadis.

    The depths of the Red and ck Mountains were wide, but the floods helped us escape.

    The rapids that sprang up everywhere, and the corpses and logs that floated above them, made traveling many times faster.

    Most of the waterways were covered with dense vines and branches, so even rivers andkes that had nowhere to go could easily be crossed by climbing over the forest canopy.

    Of course, there were hungry creatures along the way, but they were no match for the fully-restored Vikir.

    Giant catfish, old lizards, ferocious bears, ravenous packs of wild dogs, and venomous bats... were mere rites of passage for Vikir, who had perfectly adapted to the depth ecosystem over the past two years.

    "...No, it was dangerous once."

    ''I don''t know about the others, but the bone-sucking mosquitoes, they were really dangerous.

    Undaunted by the fierce rain, they chased Vikir in swarms, and he spent nearly half a day trying to keep them at bay.

    The weakened Pomeranian caught a cold and struggled for a while.

    The first thing Vikir did when he emerged from the water was to take Pomerian to the city of Underdog.

    Mr. Chihuahua, who was sighing at the full moon in the night sky, fainted three times in quick session when he saw Vikir burst through the window of his small apartment.

    Vikir hade to City Hall because he was one of the few people in Baskerville who could be trusted with a personality that belied his skinny appearance.

    "..., Deputy, are you a ghost? No, I mean, how did you get here?

    "''Why don''t I know theyout of the ce I used to go to work every day?

    By now, the Chihuahua hade to his senses, and when Vikir told him what had happened, he let out an exmation of admiration.

    ''You are indeed a great man, Deputy. Only you have a different kind of life. What kind of barbarian tribes do you live with for two years...''

    "I''ll be back in full force soon enough, so be ready. And keep everything that happened today a secret.

    ''I see, but who is this child, who looks so much like you, Chief Deputy...? Is this the child of Chief Deputy, who has been having some sort of affair with a barbarian....''

    ''By blood, yes, but not in the way you imagine, so spare me the nonsense.''

    Vikir trusted the Chihuahua with the Pomeranian.

    ''He is an important person, so don''t ask him anything until I return, and then take great care of him and give him a basic education.

    The story goes quickly, as the Chihuahua still hasn''t forgotten Vikir, the chief deputy, and his eyes are still red from the asional ss of wine.

    Chihuahua quickly summoned a doctor from the city hall, who examined Pomerian and brought him medicine and food.

    "I will take care of her, with my life, until the deputy returns.

    The Chihuahua said with determination.

    After two years, he still looked scrawny, but Vikir knew he was a man of his word.

    Considering the Chihuahua''s low wages, Vikir handed over Oxbear''s pelt and horns to Pomerian in exchange for child support.

    "Hee hee! What are you giving me for all this?

    "To be sold at your pleasure."

    "Wow, that''s a lot of pelts and horns for a big guy, and if I can sell them properly, they''ll be worth more than ten years of my sry.

    "Make sure the Pomerian are well provided for."

    "You''re very protective of your daughter. You''re a good father. I have three daughters of my own, so I know how you feel."

    The Chihuahua gave me a fatherly smile and a knowing nod.

    There was a hint of misunderstanding, but Vikir didn''t bother to rify.

    Then.

    ''ah! Deputy, this is...!''

    As if on cue, Chihuahua quickly opened a cab in the corner of the office and pulled out a stack of old papers.

    Vikir''s eyes lit up when he saw it.

    It was a file of newspaper clippings from the past two years, detailing Baskerville and Morg''s interactions, current events, and recent issues.

    "I was prepared just in case the deputy consul mighte back.'' !"

    The Chihuahua scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment.

    Vikir was grateful that the Chihuahua hadn''t forgotten him, even in this situation.

    So Vikir agreed to help solve some of the problems in the city of Underdog, which is currently experiencing a resurgence of criminal activity due to the absence of a magistrate.

    "If it interferes with your work, you can find Sindhiwendi in Messinadnaro. She owes me."

    Vikir told the Chihuahua in a hushed tone.

    The Chihuahua''s eyes widened.

    Messinadnaro Sindiwendi was a criminal whom Vikir had freed in a plea bargain two years earlier.

    "How do I find her?"

    "Do you remember the girl I gave 10 billion to when I was deputy chief magistrate?"

    "Sure. Her name was Judy, too."

    "I''d probably go looking for her, because it''s hard to make 10 billion, but it''s even harder to keep it. She has nowhere to go and no backup, so she''s easy to get to."

    The Chihuahua nodded silently at Vikir''s words.

    Fresh out of prison and penniless, finding an investor would be her first priority.

    She had once gone to Gambino, a poor local baron, and be his investment advisor.

    "But if I find her, will she continue to help me? She must have something against the local government."

    "Tell her you''ll get her some good business."

    "And by good business, you mean...?

    Vikir was kind enough to answer the Chihuahua''s questions.

    "''I will give you a monopoly on trade with the savage tribes."

    The barbarian tribes of the Sioux River have not traded with the Empire since the conflict with the merchants of Bourgeois Street two years ago.

    If Vikir, the current hero of Bk, were to step forward, that trade could be reopened, and the merchant who did so would likely find great wealth.

    Add to that the fact that the underdog city''s crime rate has been on the rise again since Vikir''s death, and her counsel would be invaluable in addressing the many problems and ills of the city.

    At that, the Chihuahua nodded.

    Indeed, less than a few hours after Bikir''s return, the problems of the past two years were already showing signs of resolution.

    The Chihuahua was in awe all over again.

    ...Whoo!

    Vikirunches himself back over the window sill.

    The night hound sneaks out of the underdog city.

    ''Deputy Magistrate! Where are you going?

    With the Chihuahua''s mournful cry behind him, Vikir heads for thend to fulfill his promise to Aiyen.

    A ce where the ''red death'' of Ahul could be quickly cured.

    ''...That can easily be aplished with a single drop of your family''s holy water.''

    The Quarvadis, one of the Seven Houses of the Empire, a family of faithful saints.

 Chapter 75: The Hound of the Night (2)

    <h4>Chapter 75: The Hound of the Night (2)</h4>

    St. Ma, poption 160,000, a resort town with dense forests and clean waters. One of the central cities directly under the control of House Quarvadis.

    People walk solemnly and reverently along the white marble paved streets.

    Whenever a bell rings from the tall clock tower, everyone stops in their tracks and prays to the holy tablet on the roof of the Quavadis'' official residence in the distance.

    If a gold coin fell to the ground, it was not picked up, and order and security were kept very strictly by the citizens'' own rituals.

    "...where would I live suffocated?"

    Vikir stood on the roof of a tall tower and looked down.

    Women walked around with white cloths wrapped around their bodies, exposing only their eyes. The men did the same.

    For religious reasons, lust and greed are strictly controlled.

    No nudity, no fashion, it''s all white and monochromatic.

    It''s a far different atmosphere from the Bk vige, a tribe that lives freely in the jungle with most of their bodies exposed.

    Having lived there for the past two years, Vikir found the atmosphere of St. Ma stuffy and ufortable.

    After waiting for darkness to fall, he headed to a slum on the outskirts of the city, far from the center.

    Broken windows, cracked walls, low-lying areas with stagnant water and steep staircases.

    Slum scenes are simr everywhere. It''s the same in cities under the power of Quavadis the Faithful.

    The people here are especially harsh, as Saint Quavadis banishes sinners from the center of the city and sends them to the outskirts.

    People who hadn''tmitted felonies worthy of jail time, but hadmitted misdemeanors that wouldn''t allow them to enter the center.

    They were weeded out by the checkpoints and pdins that dotted the city''s pathways.

    Vikir climbed a steep flight of stairs and entered the slums on the higher ground.

    It was the most remote and darkest of the slums.

    Then, from beyond the darkness, the bell rang twelve times, signaling midnight.

    By this time, few people were passing by, but those who remained in the streets all bowed down to the ground to show their respect to the Quavadis.

    And when they did, only the Hound of the Night did not.

    Moving through the noise of the night, Vikir went to the well and pulled out a vial.

    It was the Red Death, the essence of the gue, drawn from the blood, sweat, and tears of Ahul.

    Vikir poured the liquid into the well.

    He released the Red Death into the heart of the Quarvadis.

    "It is an extremely infectious gue, and sooner orter there will be a reaction."

    The Red Death has an incubation period of up to ten days and a minimum of one day.

    Once inside the body, it can take as little as a day to develop, three days if ites into contact with mucous membranes, and usually a week if it is spread through breathing or skin contact.

    ''It''s the realm of the faithful, so hopefully we can cure it before anyone dies.

    Vikir thought for a moment about when to move on to the next design.

    Then.

    "...!"

    Vikir made eye contact with a group of children approaching from the other side of the well.

    They were on their way to catch bugs, and they were carrying buckets, dragonfly traps, and sugar water.

    The oldest child, the one in front of him, peered over and asked.

    "Is anyone there?"

    The children stopped in front of the well and shouted. They can barely see Vikir, who blends perfectly into the darkness.

    It''s a dark, moonless night, and Vikir is masked.

    He''d never be recognized, but he had to be careful.

    Next, Vikir''s eyes glowed with life.

    A crimson glow sted through the gas mask''s sses.

    [I will curse this well.]

    The children shuddered at Vikir''s words and sank to the ground in a heap. They even pissed themselves.

    Vikir warned them sternly.

    [Anyone who drinks from this well will surely die].

    It''s unnecessary, but it''s a consideration.

    He didn''t want the children to get caught up in it.

    "Hiiiit! It''s a ghost! It''s a demon!"

    "The well is cursed!"

    "Ew! I''ll never drink it!"

    The children scurried away in a huff.

    After Vikir checked several times to make sure that all the popr pretenders were gone, he buried something in the dirt near the well.

    It was a marker left by the intruders who had flooded in some time ago.

    It was the mark of Leviathan the Extremist.

    Vikir knew immediately that the Leviathans were responsible for unleashing the Red Death on the surface.

    "Let''s see you guys fight to the death."

    The religious Quavadis and the ultra-orthodox Leviathan had been at odds for generations.

    What would happen if the Red Death spread to Quavadisgar''s home base?

    Since it''s Quavadisgar''s home base, suppressing it would be quick, but after that would be the problem.

    "We need to move fast."

    I can already see a few peopleing up to draw water from the well.

    We need to get the Quarvadis out before there are any innocent civilian casualties.

    The sooner I can fulfill my promise to Aiyen.

    * * *

    The Hound of the Night worked diligently, visiting the official residence of the Holy Prophet Quavadis in the heart of Saint Ma.

    Despite thete hour, several wagons were parked in front of thepound.

    It''s true what they say, sickness does not sleep at night.

    Even at this moment, there were many people who wanted to visit the holy man to heal themselves.

    Most of them were nobles and wealthy people who had arrived in fancy carriages, and they were all knocking on the saint''s door, their well-groomed clothes contrasting with their sickly faces.

    "We heard that you are on retreat here! Please open the door for us, we want to greet you!"

    "Oh saint, I knew you were here, and I havee to ask you to take a look at my illness just once!"

    "Please let me see him, saint!"

    It seems that word has gotten around that Saint Dolores, the direct descendant of Quavadis and the owner of a small household, is currently here in St. Ma.

    Saint Dolores, the pride of the Quavadis family, is currently a sophomore at the Imperial Academy, where she is the Vice President of the Student Council.

    Rumors that she was resting here during the academy''s vacation period had drawn nobles and noblemen from far and wide.

    They were all highborn nobles, rich men with lots of money.

    Over the mor of knocking and shouting, a voice came from inside the door.

    "...Who are you and what brings you to me at thiste hour?"

    The voice was gentle and feminine, but with a hint of power.

    The voice of a saint, perhaps.

    The nobles and the rich were thrilled to hear the voice of the famous Saint Dolores herself.

    But it doesn''tst long, and they quickly answer.

    "I am the son-inw of the House of Alpons, the eldest son of the House of Jonathan, which has produced knights of great distinction from generation to generation, and the son-inw of the House of Dortmund, and I have the House of Dotte as my brother above, and the House of Franz as my sister below...!"

    "I am the general manager of the Ipsen Guild Union, which is a subcontractor to the Bourgeois family, and I am in my fifth year as president of the Ipsen Town Council, and I am also an honorary knight, having recently been knighted by the Empire and having served for two years as a squire to the prestigious Count Les Baskervilles, a Boston terrier...!"

    "If I may speak for myself, I am the second son of House Childs, and if you can cure me of my ailments, I can bestow upon you the entirety of the fertile granarynds far from the main house of the Quavadis, as well as a vi on the warm shores of the south and a fleet of private carriages...!"

    But.

    No man, no matter how powerful, no matter how rich, could open the gates of Quavadisgar.

    St. Dolores kept the door firmly closed and refused to open it to anyone.

    "I don''t see how your status and wealth are any reason for me to open the gates to your ambitious vision."

    Not the noble, not the rich. They all went home, exhausted, after proiming at the top of their lungs how wonderful they were and how much they could pay for a cure.

    And then, as the night wore on. The line had disappeared and Vikir was thest one standing at the door of the government office.

    It was so quiet you couldn''t tell if anyone was behind the door.

    Standing in front of it, Vikir knocked politely.

    Sure enough, this time he heard the saint''s voice.

    "Who are you, and what brings you to me at thiste hour?"

    Vikir thought for a moment.

    The men who''d been listing their identities at the top of their lungs just moments before had alle up empty.

    "That is not the taste of a saint."

    Vikir knows who Saint Dolores is.

    He''d seen her on the front lines, on the bloodiest of battlefields, before he was turned back.

    The intense look of treating the wounded covered in blood.

    Her white robes stained with blood, her white holy power bursting from her.

    The sight, even from a distance, was holy and sublime.

    Finally, Vikir spoke briefly.

    "...It''s just a lostmb."

    For a moment, there was silence beyond the door.

    Vikir waited.

    And then.

    A click.

    The door to the Quavadis of the Faithful, which had been firmly closed and opened to no one, opened.

 Chapter 76: The Hound of the Night (3)

    <h4>Chapter 76: The Hound of the Night (3)</h4>

    The doors to the official residence opened.

    As expected, there was no one on the other side of the door.

    There was only a stone statue with a saintly voice.

    [What business have youe to see me for?]

    The voice of the saintly Dolores came from the statue''s mouth.

    Apparently, she wasn''t going to meet Vikir in person.

    "..., of course. It''s only natural.''

    Vikir''s outfit now looked suspicious.

    Arge hat, a stork''s beak gas mask, and a ck cloak covering his entire body.

    No wonder the saint wouldn''t meet him in person.

    Vikir approached the statue and spoke.

    "I havee to report a gue in the slums."

    As he spoke, Vikir held out a bucket of well water, imbued with the energy of the Red Death.

    A good cleric would be able to detect the peculiar aura of this water.

    The moment.

    [....]

    The voice from the statue cut off.

    Vikir had a hunch. The saint had stopped sending her voice through the stone.

    And then.

    ...Tsk!

    The door behind him mmed shut.

    It wasn''t the only one.

    ...ding! ...ding! ...ding! ...ding! ...ding!

    The doors on the front and sides began to shut.

    In an instant, the main lobby was isted and shaped like a diatorial arena.

    Cha-cha-cha-cha-cha-cha!

    Out of nowhere, a line of white-armored pdins appeared on the terrace on the second floor.

    "...."

    Vikir took a quick look around.

    Normally a lobby and parlor, the room was designed to be converted into a battlefield in a pinch.

    Indeed, with all five doors and corridors blocked, there was no escape in any direction, and above them was a siegework of ever-present pdins.

    The various statues tucked into the corners provide no concealment, and once trapped, there is nothing to do but wait for judgment.

    "...."

    However, Vikir doesn''t react, just stands there in silence.

    As if he had already anticipated this reaction.

    Just then.

    "Who are you?"

    The gravelly voice came from among the statues on the first floor.

    Beyond it, a man walks out into the center of the square.

    Over two meters tall, with a scarred, shaven head, white armor and cloth wrapped around his entire body.

    The man has no eyebrows, a noticeablyrge nose, and arge mouth.

    His eyes were gently curved as if he were smiling, but the aura he gave off was quite harsh.

    His arms, thick as logs, cradled arge book, which appeared to be a holy book of some sort.

    Vikir squinted behind his gas mask.

    ''...Inquisitor Mozgus. Long time no see.''

    "Mozgus Quavadis. He was a friend of mine before I went back.

    A man I often trusted with my back in battle against demons.

    His bulk is like an iron wall, and the holy power he emits can light up a thousand miles.

    A man who would neverpromise with injustice and could be more cruel than the demons themselves when it came to justice.

    It was refreshing to see an oldrade-in-arms here, who had died so spectacrly during the Demon War, single-handedly facing off against a thousand demons.

    "Come to think of it, I learned my torture techniques from him."

    Vikir recalled the memories of torturing the masters of the Seven Families in Underdog City.

    But those beautiful (?) memories belong to Vikir alone, and in this life, Mozgus is seeing Vikir for the first time.

    He held up a thick Bible that must have weighed dozens of kilograms and turned to Vikir.

    "You are dressed suspiciously for someone who hase to report a gue in the slums, and I will not allow you to see the holy woman until you remove that mask and show some manners."

    "I can''t remove my gas mask for a reason. My duties areplete at the point of reporting, so I must return."

    Vikir dropped the bag of red death to the ground and raised his arms in a gesture of nonmittal.

    Then he slowly backed away.

    "sphemer!"

    Mozgus rushed forward.

    He mmed his Bible, a weapon in its own right, down on Vikir''s head and tried to stamp on him.

    But Vikir was faster.

    Vikir took advantage of the gap in the book''s upward motion, and in a sh, he was back through the hollow between Mozgus''s sides.

    Boom!

    A deep crack appeared in the floor where Mozgus had struck with the book.

    Vikir squinted at the white aura emanating from the corners of the pages of Mozgus''s personality book.

    ''A book. You still wield an unusual weapon, and you''re an intermediate to advanced Gradient.''

    Half as good as he was before his regression.

    However, given that this was the home of the Quarvadis and that he had the divine power to heal himself, it was almost a tie.

    As he watched Vikir take up his stance, Mozgus let out a low growl.

    "I sense an evil energy in the water in that stupid thing. If that is indeed a gue, you must be the one spreading it."

    "If I were the culprit, why would Ie to report it?"

    "We don''t know. Maybe it''s a trick, or maybe it''s a ruse to draw you out."

    Vikir shrugged, because it made sense.

    "I''m just here to report a suspicious group of people spreading gue in the slums."

    "Your outfit is the most suspicious for saying such a thing. We''ll hear your statementter, in jail."

    With that, Mozgus swung the book around.

    Parax.

    The book opened, the white pages inside flipping over with a loud crackle.

    At the same time, bolts of white aura emanate from the pages, targeting Vikir.

    "Have you ever been cut by stiff paper? It hurts."

    Mozgus was performing a strange and unique attack, opening the Bible and shing with his aura against the sharp edges of the pages.

    Quack, quack, quack!

    Hundreds of pages of parchment scattered in all directions.

    However, with a simrly ck ghostly movement, Vikir dodged all of Mozgus''s blows.

    It was a trick he had learned from the hunters of Bk.

    At the same time, Vikir drew the magic sword Beelzebub from his wrist.

    ...Blood!

    The tip of the de erupted with a sticky aura.

    "Graduator!"

    Mozgus and the other pdins were stunned.

    Vikir''s aura, a powerful aura that was no match for Mozgus''s, was now intertwined with Mozgus''s aura, forming a tie.

    Furthermore.

    Vikir had even activated Oxbear''s skill, "Thousand Muscles," which was sealed inside Beelzebub.

    Vikir''s weight swelled to nearly 600 kilograms in an instant.

    Mozgus looked down on Vikir''s small size and tried to push him with his strength, but when he couldn''t get him to budge, he was extremely puzzled.

    "It''s like pushing a boulder! What the...!?

    It''s not surprising that Mozgus, no matter how big and strong he is, can''t be as physical as Oxbear.

    Vikir wielded Beelzebub as he was.

    A Baskervillian carnivore, a lurking ambusher.

    It looked nothing like a Baskerville on the outside, but it was a Baskerville on the inside.

    Its hidden teeth shredded Mozgus''s aura to pieces.

    It wasn''t a known swordsmanship anyway, so revealing a bit wouldn''t give him away.

    Vikir drew a long de from his wrist and formed six teeth.

    He shed at Mozgus''s head, neck, both shoulders, and both backs.

    "...cough!?"

    Mozgus tried to cover the Bible and hold it up as a shield, but... was toote.

    "If you''re going to use it as a shield, you should have used it sooner."

    Vikir shed the back of Mozgus''s hand as he grabbed the Bible.

    A moment.

    ...Roar!

    The breath of Cerberus, the Hound of Hell, zed hotly from the tip of Beelzebub.

    The unquenchable mes of the oil field scorched the back of Mozgus''s hand.

    "Aaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

    Mozgus rolled on the ground, clutching the back of his burning hand.

    The fire of Cerberus cannot be extinguished by water or sand.

    Pk-pk-pk!

    The torn pages of the holy book were consumed by mes.

    Vikir looked at the fallen Mozgus and sheathed his sword for a moment. He had note here to kill him.

    But.

    "You sphemer! What sorcery are you practicing!"

    Mozgus''s fighting spirit was immense.

    With a burst of divine power, he grabbed the water flowing down the statue''s mouth and turned it into holy water.

    Push, push, push!

    Suddenly, the fire on the back of Mozgus''s hand was extinguished. The fire on the back of his hand was extinguished.

    But even with the hasty extinguishing of the fire, the battle was already won.

    Mozgus felt a lump in his throat.

    He looked up and saw that Vikir had already stepped on the thick holy book and was standing on top of it.

    "Stepping on a holy book is sphemy!"

    "By that measure, your throwing and swinging the holy book is worse."

    "...."

    Mozgus was forced to keep his mouth shut.

    Vikir spoke, boiling a ck aura with the tip of his outstretched awl.

    "Do you wish to try more?"

    "...."

    Mozgus clenched his teeth at the arrogance in his voice.

    How many other beings in the world were capable of pushing him like this, even though he had reached the upper ranks of the Graduators?

    Mozgus clenched his fists tightly together and summoned his aura with all his might.

    Quack, quack, quack!

    Mana spinning at high speed quickly enveloped his entire forearm.

    "Iyaaab!"

    Mozgus charged with all his might. With enough to st the opponent in front of him with a single punch.

    But.

    Vikir didn''t react.

    ...Thud!

    He merely kicked the holy book off the ground.

    Boom!

    Next, Vikir kicked the Bible into the air.

    The Bible spun and flew toward Mozgus.

    Mozgus had just turned his head to dodge it.

    "...!"

    He had to doubt his eyes.

    Vikir, the man who had been in front of him until the Bible was a thin straight line across his eyes, disappeared from view in that brief moment when the Bible stood vertically and took up arge area.

    "Where?

    I screamed. A cold sweat runs down my spine.

    Suddenly, I hear a ghostly whisper in my ear.

    "... looking for me?"

    In the fraction of a second it took for the book to fly and spin, Vikir was out of Mozgus''s line of sight and holding onto his back.

    Mozgus spun around in surprise.

    ...BANG!

    Vikir''s aura mmed into Mozgus''s entire body.

    Swung like a hammer, Vikir''s aura shattered Mozgus''s full body armor like grains of sand, and even the chainmail he wore was shattered.

    Uh-oh! Thud!

    Mozgus smashed through three statues behind him and fell to the ground.

    The pdins on the second floor terrace could only gape at the shocking result.

    They had never seen Mozgus Quavadis, Inquisitor, Archbishop of Quavadis Family, and leader of the Knights of the Inquisition, lose so easily.

    "Am I dreaming?"

    "Lord Mozgus has been defeated?"

    "No way, how could this happen...!"

    But after a moment of confusion, they drew their swords in unison like the elite of the Quarvadis and leapt to the first floor.

    "Get that sphemer!"

    White auras rose from everywhere.

    Vikir adjusted the gas mask that covered his face.

    "Quite the way to deal with a straymb."

    The pdins who had jumped from the second floor now surrounded the front.

    What''s more.

    Gurgling.

    Behind them, among the shattered remains of the statues, Mozgus heaved himself to his feet.

    He had stripped off all of his shattered and distorted armor and was clutching arge shard of stone with both hands.

    Blood was dripping from his body, but it didn''t seem to bother him at all.

    "Only if you want to see the end."

    Vikir drew his magic sword, Beelzebub, as long as he could.

    A sticky liquid aura, a testament to his advanced graduator status, bubbled and boiled at the tip of the de.

    All the pdins, including Mozgus, tensed at the overwhelming momentum Vikir exuded, a ck ghostly figure.

    They couldn''t close their eyes, couldn''t swallow their saliva.

    The slightest slip of the tongue would be enough for that ck ghost''s teeth to tear at their throats and hearts.

    "Where did this monstrositye from....?

    Mozgus regretted his rashness and took a stance.

    One-on-one, a must-lose.

    Many against one, half and half.

    The opponent was a creature that could not bepletely defeated, even with all of the pdins here, including himself.

    Normally, he would have taken a step back and formally dered a crusade....

    "There is a saint here."

    The stakes were too high for him to take any chances.

    Vikir, Mozgus, and the rest of the pdins stood in a tense confrontation.

    "...Stop!"

    A voice shattered everyone''s concentration.

    A figure poked its head out from the terrace on the third floor.

    It was Saint Dolores, and she was here.

 Chapter 77: The Saintess (1)

    <h4>Chapter 77: The Saintess (1)</h4>

    Dolores L Quovadis.

    A saintess who turned 16 this year, she is the most likely candidate to be the next head of the Quovadis family.

    An undisputed prodigy of the Imperial Academy Colosseo, she hasn''t missed a single ss since she entered her freshman year using the early admission system, and now in her sophomore year, she is the vice president of the student council.

    Her appearance reminded Vikir of a time before the regression.

    In the distant past, she had been a saintess, traveling to the front lines of battle against demons and healing the sick, demonstrating firsthand what it meant to be a living saintess.

    Called an angel of the battlefield, she saved countless lives, a living example of goodness.

    Although she is still young, she already has a strong heart and a clear mind.

    Vikir, like all humans who have lived through the Age of Destruction, had respect and affection for the young saintess.

    Vikir bowed his head, and the pdins nearby flinched.

    Dolores paused, too.

    Her senses were acute, and she could smell the animal scent of Vikir''s soul, the smell of blood, the smell of oil, and the smell of violence, anger, and hatred.

    And, at the center of all those swirling emotions, the smell of a terrible sadness, hidden deep within.

    "Are you a lost sheep?"

    "...Yes."

    Vikir answered with a locked throat.

    Dolores nodded.

    "You look more like a... puppy than a sheep."

    "...."

    "A scarred little puppy."

    As Dolores finished speaking, the faces of all the pdins gathered on the first floor turned a shade of red.

    Mozgus eximed as well.

    "Pdin, that''s not a puppy! That''s a blood-crazed wolf! You need to step back now...."

    "Bring me tea."

    Dolores raised her hand to stop Mozgus from speaking.

    Then he said in a very firm tone.

    "I need to talk to him."

    * * *

    Soon, a small parlor was set up with a table, chairs, and two teacups.

    Warm, steaming cups of peppermint tea.

    At the entrance to the parlor, arge Mozgus stood fidgeting.

    In his hand, he held a small teapot with a floral design that looked like arge ring.

    A small table was ced in the center of the room, and Bikir and Dolores sat across from each other.

    Dolores sounded surprised.

    "When I heard that Mr. Mozgus hade out, I was surprised and came to see you, because I thought you were going to get hurt a lot."

    Mozgus has the temperament and philosophy of an inquisitor. So does his body.

    So there was no reason for him to take kindly to the suspiciously dressed visitor.

    But who knew?

    That the man who was the military backbone of the Quavadis would be defeated so spectacrly.

    Suddenly, Mozgus spoke up from beside him.

    "Saintess. I didn''t lose, if it had been a long game, the odds were definitely in my favor...."

    The mere fact that he says this is a sign of defeat.

    Dolores thought to herself.

    "Mr. Mozgus was one of the few Graduators in the Empire, and if he can be defeated so easily, I can''t imagine why anyone would want to....

    She stared at Vikir''s mask in front of her.

    But there was nothing she could read in it.

    As Vikir stared down at the teacup in front of him, Dolores spoke again.

    "I don''t think you can drink tea with that gas mask on."

    Vikir nodded silently.

    He hadn''t said anything since earlier, so Dolores decided to cut to the chase.

    "I''ve been under a lot of stresstely."

    Vikir''s head snapped up at her words.

    Stressed about what? The studies at the academy? Or a home school ss?

    But Dolores shook her head.

    "I''m taking a break from the academy and my family''s affairs because it''s vacation time. It''s the nobles and merchants you saw just now who are really bothering me."

    They dragged their sick bodies to the saintess and begged her to heal them.

    Unwee visitors, begging for money or prestige.

    "The things they ask me to cure are obvious: erectile dysfunction, sexually transmitted diseases, drug side effects �C nothing really serious."

    If he had the divine power to heal them, Dolores said, he''d rather help people who are really struggling and sick.

    "Justice, righteousness, charity, equality, and the will of God may be these things... but people are too blinded by what''s in front of them."

    Vikir nodded in agreement.

    "This is inevitable, since theology is essentially a process of understanding human beings."

    It was a phrase he''d often heard from her mouth when he''d met Dolores on the front lines of the war before he''d regressed.

    Vikir had only briefly recalled a memory from long ago, but Dolores'' eyes widened at the sight before him.

    Even Mozgus, who stood in the doorway.

    "Old Testament, Azmoth, chapter 6, verse 9. Very philosophical and profound."

    "...."

    "I can''t believe you know these old words. You must be well versed in theology. Are you a member of the Church of the Runes?"

    Vikir was silent for a moment.

    He didn''t know or care about Runes, the state religion of the Empire, so it seemed like a good time to change the subject.

    "More than that. There is a gue in the slums of St. Ma."

    "... Is that reliable information?"

    "You''ve seen the water in the streets. Ites straight from the wells of the slums."

    "You didn''t have anything to do with it?"

    "Why else would I havee here of my own ord?"

    Vikir spoke again.

    "I hate to see innocent people harmed. Especially since this is my home."

    "Oh, is this your home? I''m from here, too."

    Dolores'' eyes twinkled at Vikir''s words.

    It was the first time she had heard of his homnd, so Vikir simply shook his head.

    "I believe in absolutes, too. I hope the gue will be eradicated soon."

    "A rough soul, but... a good one, you are."

    Dolores turned serious.

    "You told Mr. Mozgus earlier that you saw some suspicious people, didn''t you?"

    "Yes, sir. I saw them pouring liquid in vials all over the wells."

    "If this gue is man-made... who spread it and for what purpose?"

    Dolores seemed to be thinking a lot.

    gues are not a simple matter.

    Once a gue starts to spread, the hardest hit are institutions where many people live inmunity, usually monasteries and schools.

    When a gue hits a monastery, the number of priests decreases, and cults, religions, and superstitions begin to flourish, requiring even more priests.

    In this way, when uneducated and inexperienced priests go out into the field, more heresies, cults, superstitions, and so on are created.

    Thus, in the event of a gue, the Quavadis would be at a significant political disadvantage.

    To prevent this from happening, they would have to suppress the Red Death early.

    Vikir''s answer was brief.

    "Those who wish for the downfall of House Quavadis, and those who profit from it."

    "...That''s particrly difficult."

    Dolores furrowed her brow in thought.

    Even her mind, rumored to be the brightest in the academy, could not predict the future.

    But Vikir knew what wasing, that''s right, because I''ve experienced all of these things before returning.

    With that, Vikir drew a map from his bosom.

    The locations of the Seven Houses, circled around the ecliptic of the Empire.

    Vikir pointed them out, exining them to Dolores.

    "Those who stand to gain the most are the Leviathan and the Bourgeois."

    The extremely poisonous Leviathan will use this opportunity to collect samples from numerous patients, investigate, study, and improve the gue to use as their own weapon.

    Since they are a family that uses poison and medicine as their main weapons, the fact that a strong gue has spread is a very good thing for them.

    Furthermore, the fall of their arch-enemy, the Quavadis, would be a blessing in disguise for the Leviathan.

    In addition, the oligarchic bourgeois were also likely to see significant reflexive gains.

    Gold and silver treasures do not disappear in a gue.

    The deaths of the workers would bankrupt thendowners, and their warehouses, gold and silver coins, banknotes, and production facilities would be taken over by the bourgeois.

    Once the bourgeois has gobbled up the dead and empty factories, farms, stores, guilds, and other real estate capital, they can use their umted wealth to start new businesses.

    Fashion businesses for the newly wealthy, health supplements for those who remember the horrors of the gue, and so on... sales will soar like crazy.

    ''Merchants from bourgeois families would visit Bk''s viges and try to buy up antlers and ginseng and things like that, right?''

    Vikir thought to himself.

    ''The ones spreading the Red Death must have been Leviathans, the extremists.

    And they probably have a tycoon Bourgeois as an ally.

    It was highly likely that they were trading information with each other.

    The religious Quavadis and the natives of the jungle are the scapegoats.

    "... Therefore, for these reasons, I believe they may be intimately involved in the gue. Just a hypothesis, of course."

    Vikir had actually seen, heard, and experienced the events before his regression, and he was able to flesh them out a bit.

    What?

    I don''t feel much of a reaction from the front.

    "...?"

    Vikir tilted his head slightly, as if looking for something.

    Then he sees the faces of Dolores and Mozgus behind the gas masks.

    Both were frozen in ce, their mouths half open.

 Chapter 78: The Saintess (2)

    <h4>Chapter 78: The Saintess (2)</h4>

    "...you. Who the hell are you?""

    Dolores asked in an uncertain tone.

    The being who had suddenly appeared one day and warned him of the misfortune of the Quavadis family.

    A lonely man, dressed in strange clothes, but with a clear and pure spirit.

    "Who are you, and how do you know all these things?"

    Dolores''s voice began to tremble.

    Normally, among the guests whoe to the House to feed themselves, there are always those who are well versed in the ways of the world.

    But few of them could predict the future with such uracy.

    Even more so, they have the distinction of being early warners of an epidemic that hasn''t even been reported yet.

    Naturally, Dolores and Mozgus couldn''t help but wonder about the identity of this strange visitor to the Quavadis family.

    "... ... Ooh, great! Doesn''t the saintess ask? Who are you?"

    Mozgus also asks, dangerously fiddling with a small teapot that looks like it will be crumpled at any moment.

    It''s like he''s pressuring me to respect the saintess''s authority, but he''s really just curious.

    Dolores and Mozgus both look at Vikir''s face, their eyes shining.

    In response, Vikir answered briefly.

    "Hound of the Night."

    At that, both priests'' expressions be slightly subtle.

    "...Night hound. That''s a rather ominous name."

    "Even when you give yourself a nickname, you wear it as if it were a piece of clothing. How very sphemous."

    Dolores and Mozgus snorted.

    Vikir remained silent after that, saying nothing else.

    Naturally, Mozgus hurried things along.

    "...Whatever is going on... ...everything he said is possible, Night Hound. We need to investigate the gue as soon as possible, report back to our patriarch, and take measures at the n level."

    There was a sense of urgency in the chapel.

    Dolores formally asked Archbishop Mozgus to organize a crusade to relieve the gue.

    She also formally reported to her biological father, Cardinal Humbert, whose monastery was not far away.

    Today, Dolores'' decision would reach the ears of Lord Nabokov I, patriarch of the Quavadis and Pope of the Church of Runes.

    It was a big deal.

    Mozgus scurried off to tell the saint''s will.

    Meanwhile, Dolores was staring at Vikir with wide-eyed wonder.

    Vikir, in turn, met Dolores''s gaze calmly.

    Vikir did not bother to tell the holy woman the story of House Baskerville and House Morg.

    To do so would reveal that the Red Death was first released in the waters of the Red and ck Mountains.

    In fact, the Baskervilles and Morg have the most to gain if the Red Death is released into the waters of the Red and ck Mountains.

    The barbarian tribes y a crucial role in the Red and ck Mountain ecosystem, and the loss of thesergely predatory creatures would cause subordinate demons to overpopte, leading to monster waves and a spike in civilian casualties.

    Vikir recalled the past.

    Before the regression, over 40% of the barbarians had been exterminated as the Red Death gradually spread.

    This caused the demon poption to skyrocket, and the political influence of the Morg and Baskervilles on the border grew.

    Hugo used this political influence to grow his family''s power even further, and once again, many hounds were lost.

    Vikir was one of them.

    Well, whatever.

    Keeping the Bk alive is all about getting revenge on Leviathan the Extremist and Bourgeois the Tycoon, which in turn is about getting revenge on yourrades who died in Baskerville the Ironde.

    It''s a chain of events, by design.

    Vikir closed his eyes in silence, contemting what was toe.

    Meanwhile. Saint Dolores stared at Vikir as he did so.

    "...A lost puppy, exhausted and lonely."

    Why do these thoughtse to mind for a man who calls himself a hound?

    Why did the man who had brought down the mighty Mozgus and the pdins under his control look so small and pitiful?

    He smelled of blood, of the wailing of a broken soul, and the sound of blood.

    Sorrow, hatred, and loneliness. And a man walking a thorny ascetic path, carrying all these burdens alone.

    He had the aura of a prophet or a seeker.

    Suddenly, I remembered the words he had muttered in his deep throat.

    "Theology is essentially a process of understanding human beings, so this is inevitable."

    There is no doubt that the person who knows this passage of the old scripture, which even the theology experts do not know well, is not a Rune follower.

    He must be a follower of the runes, practicing the doctrine on the front lines of suffering, in the lowest, most intense ces.

    ''There''s no way he could remember and recite those words otherwise.''

    At least that''s what Dolores thought.

    She is a young, immature sixteen-year-old girl with the qualities of a saintess who can read the souls of others.

    Is that why? Her misconceptions about Vikir were gaining weight.

    But whether she does or not, Vikir is merely waiting for the appearance of the holy water that can extinguish the Red Death.

    "...."

    "...."

    A man and a woman look into each other''s faces with different thoughts.

    The tea that hadn''t even been touched was quietly cooling down.

    * * *

    Later.

    Vikir hurried to the slums of St. Ma.

    Saint Dolores, Inquisitor Mozgus, and dozens of pdins and priests followed.

    "Is there really a gue in this ce?"

    Dolores said, out of breath as she climbed the steep stairs.

    The pdins escorting her seemed to be in disbelief as well.

    But there was no hesitation in Vikir''s gait as he ran forward like a scout at the head of the pack.

    Finally,nding on a high roof high above the city of Dahl, Vikir nced from chimney to chimney.

    Despite the fact that the weather wasn''t too cold, the chimneys of several houses were wreathed in smoke from wood-burning stoves.

    Vikir looked for houses with smoke rising from their chimneys.

    As it turned out, some of the houses with smoke rising from their chimneys were already experiencing an outbreak of the Red Death.

    The first symptoms of the Red Death are usually chills and fever.

    This is followed by intense pain throughout the body, followed by vomiting and diarrhea.

    Patients shudder at the sight of red spots that slowly appear on their skin.

    The chills naturally lead them to shove firewood into the chimney.

    But just because there was no smoke rising from the chimney didn''t mean there were no patients.

    In the slums, many families didn''t have enough firewood, and most of them were wrapped in dirty nkets to keep the chills at bay.

    Dolores wept at the sight of their suffering.

    "s, poor people, do not worry. Rune''s great love will heal you."

    Without hesitation, she touched the bodies of the gue victims, saying prayers and blessings.

    Vikir stood still behind her, assessing their condition.

    "Thank goodness there are no children."

    It was worth it to scare the children at the well. There were no children among the patients.

    Because Vikir hade in such a hurry, they were all early cases with only mild pain.

    They were all primary cases, infected by drinking water, and secondary cases, infected by the saliva or feces of primary cases.

    The disease had to be stopped early, while there were no deaths.

    Saint Dolores gathered the patients in the central square and prayed to God.

    [Light of my life, me of my life, my sins, my soul, look down upon the young and poor gathered here...]

    The saint recited the prayer in a clear voice.

    And then.

    A single tear fell from Dolores''s eye and rolled down her cheek.

    She looked so vulnerable, so holy, so somehow sublime.

    It was the look of a beautiful girl, but without the slightest hint of lust or lustfulness.

    Soon, a single tear, broken by contact with the floor, began to work miracles.

    ...Pow!

    It emitted a white, holy light and instantly wiped away the red stains from the bodies of the patients in front of her.

    With a single drop of her tears and a single line of prayer, five or six patients were freed from the red death.

    "Oooh! Thank you, saint! Thank you!"

    "You are my savior."

    "I''m healed, I''m cured, my God, it''s a miracle!"

    The vigers, who had been shivering with chills and gagging just before, jump up and jump as if they hadn''t suffered from a gue.

    Dolores smiles as wide as she''s ever cried when she sees her patients regain their strength.

    And there was a man behind her who stared at her smile.

    "That''s it. That''s what I need.

    It was Vikir, hoping for a miracle from the holy water.

 Chapter 79: The Saintess (3)

    <h4>Chapter 79: The Saintess (3)</h4>

    Some time had passed.

    Saintess of Rune Dolores Quavadis has been thinking to herself since she received the report of the growing number of patients.

    "Curing them with divine power is a temporary solution. We can''t stop the new patients froming.

    That''s because it doesn''t cure the source of the gue.

    The patients keep showing up because somewhere in this slum, a well is contaminated with the gue.

    The wells often followed the water table beneath the ground, and as a result, it was impossible topletely eradicate the gue without purifying the water source.

    "The number of reported wells in this slum is 42, plus unreported wells dug by the vigers themselves....

    Dolores worried.

    If this happens, there is no choice but to concentrate the divine power to one well that leads to the deepest ce.

    The essence of pure water.

    Concentrate and focus the divine power, make it the size of a pill, release it into the water, and it will purify the entire slum along the underground waterways.

    So the priests of Quavadisgar immediately began clinical trials.

    Divine Essence to purify the water, clinical trials 1a through 3c.

    If they all pass, the gue of the slums will be eradicated.

    While the priests of Quavadis Family gathered their divine powers to create the Essence, Dolores tended to the more pressing cases.

    "A terrible gue indeed."

    This red death, once contracted and cured, was a disease that could return again and again.

    The incubation period was extremely short, but the time to death was very long.

    What''s more, it felt like an artificialption of the worst aspects of all the gues in history.

    The malice itself.

    It was an extremely virulent gue that was deliberately created to torment humans, causing the patient as much pain as possible for as long as possible.

    " ... This is not the time for this. We need to cure one more person."

    Even now, more patients were streaming into the infirmary.

    Dolores was on her feet within a few minutes of sitting in the chair.

    A moment.

    A ping.

    She stumbled slightly as she stepped onto the floor.

    It was overwork to the point that she, who was born with mild anemia and full divine power, felt tired.

    "I can do this, though."

    Dolores dragged her exhausted body out of the barracks, her holy power slightly restored.

    She couldn''t wait tofort the suffering patients as soon as possible.

    Then.

    "Ouch! A saintess hase out!"

    "Oh, what a holy figure!"

    "Saintess, we are with you!"

    "From now on, you have nothing to worry about, Runmen!"

    There were men following Dolores as she headed toward the slums.

    High nobles, or the scions of high nobles.

    They had knocked on the door of the Quarvadis not long ago and had been refused a meeting.

    "...What brings you here?"

    Dolores asked.

    Beautiful blonde hair, clear blue eyes, wless skin, and a clear voice.

    Just hearing her voice was enough to make the men in the room shiver.

    And then the malepetition began.

    "I, too, have followed the saint to this ce to offer my services!"

    "How could a nobledy be sent to such a filthy, lowly ce alone!"

    "We brought only three carts filled with donations and relief supplies. Please tell the beggars to gather! hot ha! Today is the day they ride."

    "I would go to any ce more shabby than this if the saintess was there!"

    The young men talked eagerly, each trying to win Dolores'' favor.

    But the coldness in Dolores''s eyes as she received their envious nces was unbearable.

    When Dolores walked toward the front without answering, the young men thought they had her permission to follow.

    "Thanks to the saint, I''ve never been to a ce like this before. I''ve only seen backward neighborhoods like this in books, but it''s a refreshing experience."

    "Haha, I thought that only skinny, dirty people would live in the slums, but there are still people living there. I didn''t realize it. I guess you have to experience things to know them."

    "But looking at the kids walking around, they''re wearing nicer clothes and shoes than I thought. Are they really poor? They don''t look that different from the kids in the middle ss neighborhood. Hmm, aren''t they a little too extravagant, these people."

    "Oh, I don''t know if I''m paying too much for this donation. I wonder if these people will lose the will to stand on their own... ... ."

    They had their servants bring in carts full of donations and relief supplies.

    Eventually, Dolores arrived at the temporary barracks where the patients were gathered.

    Boldly, she slipped through the curtain and went inside.

    But the young men following her pause and hesitate.

    "Is it safe? There must be a lot of gue victims in here."

    "Ugh. If they move it, I''ll have to.... I''m a third generation nobles"

    "It doesn''t matter, the saint will fix it!"

    "The brave get the beautiful! I''ming!"

    Some of them turn away in fear.

    Some took a deep breath and bravely stepped out into the barracks.

    Those who followed Dolores into the barracks had to cover their noses as they gagged.

    The smell of sweat, blood, vomit, piss, and shit everywhere, the foul breath and body odor of unwashed patients, and the air unpleasantly warmed by elevated body temperatures.

    Visions of red death floated like ghosts through the thick vapor of filth.

    The stench and foul heat,bined with the moans and cries that came from everywhere, made the barracks seem like a living tomb itself.

    "Uh... ... uh uh uh... ... "

    Where did the second and third generation of nobles, young people who inherited inheritance at a young age and became wealthy, encounter such a terrible and desperate sight?

    ...Chulp!

    Water poop poured out by the patient next to him fell to the floor.

    The shards sttered and stuck to their shoes and pants, and they ran out of the barracks, screaming at the top of their lungs.

    "Ew! It stinks! It''s filthy! How dare you...!?"

    "How much do these shoes cost!"

    "Priests! Priests! Treat me first! Treat me first! Get out! I''m gued!"

    "Open the door! Tell them to get out of the way! I''m getting out of here!"

    Before she could take a breath of the air in the barracks, the entire group of young men fled.

    Saintess Dolores looked at them with a pitying gaze.

    "...I knew it."

    Dolores'' beauty had long been well known.

    Within her family, outside of it, and at the Academy.

    Wherever she went, the eyes of men followed.

    No man dared openly flirt with the noble saintess, but she couldn''t help being the object of his gaze, as if she was always yearning for something.

    Whenever she went out to volunteer during the academy''s vacations, or during her free time, there were always men like that following her.

    They were disgusted by the sight of the sick, sometimes openly expressing their contempt and disgust.

    Sometimes they would secretly turn the sick away behind their backs.

    So Dolores distrusted the men who followed her because of her beauty.

    If she were to be ugly, if her body were to be covered in such filth and stench, wouldn''t they evaporate around her?

    And it is disrespectful to leave it ande to the sacred relief site with a special heart.

    In the fierce scene of life and death, there should be only one mind, the mind of the patient.

    Absolute goodness. Pure selflessness. Dogmatic sacrifice and service. Kindness and affection.

    These are the things closest to the grace and love of God.

    St. Dolores set her heart on being a martyr and a seeker.

    She entered the depths of the barracks with an even more reverent attitude.

    The deeper she went into the barracks, the more foul odors and unclean heat she encountered.

    Cries and groans of agony mingled with the dancing of the red death, creating a grisly scene.

    Dolores drew on what little holy power and stamina she had left and made her way to the farthest reaches of the barracks, to the quarantine area where the sickest patients were kept.

    From here, even veteran priests would struggle.

    And then.

    "...!"

    Dolores''s eyes went wide.

    The innermost barracks, where he''d expected to find nothing but misery and destion, was surprisingly alive with activity.

    Sure, the suffering patients were still there, but....

    "Hurry up and get more saline!"

    "Yikes, it seems that divine power isn''t the only skill in the real world, hurry up and get me a scalpel!"

    "...Ohhh. What a skill."

    The surrounding priests are all admiring with their mouths half open.

    It was a very different attitude from the overworked and depressed officers in the other barracks.

    The hardest ces bring out the most vibrant life.

    A man fighting alone in the dirtiest, fiercest, most inhospitable ces.

    Even though he is covered with filth all over his body, he examines the patient''s condition without any hesitation and silently gives first aid despite the curses and curses he spat out carelessly out of pain.

    The Hound of the Night.

    He was bustling among the patients, directing the priests.

 Chapter 80: The Saintess (4)

    <h4>Chapter 80: The Saintess (4)</h4>

    When Vikir first came to the barracks where only seriously ill patients were gathered, the priests'' reaction was as follows.

    "This is no ce for ayman."

    "You could be infected, get out now!"

    "Help? We don''t need it, you''re in the way!"

    But when Vikir began walking among the patients and blessing them, the priests'' expressions changed.

    "That''s not how you bless."

    Vikir said to the priest who was using holy power on a red spot on a patient''s leg.

    In general, a priest''s primary ability is to pray to a God to receive a share of his power and to use it to recreate some of the heavenly phenomena on earth.

    In its simplest form, the priest asks the god to share his power, the god epts and sends the power, and the priest receives the power to heal the patient.

    If the patient also believes in the same God, the priest''s request for power from the God bes a kind of guarantee, and the healing effect is amplified.

    In short, more divine power is avable to the same believer.

    This is especially true if the priest or patient has a deep connection to the gods, such as through prolonged prayer or evangelizing.

    This was simr to the corrtion between a bank''s credit rating and lending.

    But.

    Priests could only use divine power within certain limits.

    How much piety you''ve had.

    How celibate, how sacrificial, how much you prayed, how many times you said God''s name, how much you donated, how much you volunteered, and how long you''ve been devoted to God would limit the amount of holy power you could exert.

    A priest with 1 divine power could perform 1 miracle, and a priest with 10 divine power could perform 10 miracles.

    This wasmon sense.

    But.

    Vikir knew.

    How a priest with 1 holy power could perform 10 miracles, and a priest with 10 holy power could perform 100 miracles.

    " ... There''s a concept known as short selling."

    It was a deceptive method discovered by priests in the Age of Destruction as they struggled to make up for their ever-increasingck of divine power.

    Inmerce, short selling means "selling what you don''t have".

    Inmerce, short selling means "selling something you don''t have," which means that you don''t have it, but you sell it up front to get the money and then buy it backter to pay for it.

    When the time of destruction came, many priests despaired in the face of the swarming demons and the even greater number of patients.

    Their own divine powers were not enough to stop the catastrophe.

    So the gods of the Rune religion, watching on, came up with a n.

    They drastically increased the amount of divine power avable to priests who had performed well and consistently.

    This allowed high-ranking priests to perform far more miracles than usual in times of crisis.

    But even so, they still didn''t have enough holy power.

    Demons and beasts that came out of the oil world literally devastated the human world.

    The gods became even more desperate.

    It was then that the priests began to awaken.

    They began to unleash divine powers that would normally have been unthinkable.

    Even their empty mana vessels were able to exert divine power.

    Act first, reportter. Let''s make a miracle and see what happens.

    Any divine power that you have saved up in advance can be usedter with interest to make up for it or recover it, but you should use all of it that you can draw from right away.

    The journey of creating and using divine power and then repaying it through faithful activities.

    Some call it ''borrowing holy power'', some call it ''shorting holy power'', and some self-helpfully call it ''begging for holy power''.

    Even those who weren''t priests and had killed a lot of demons were allowed to use some holy power, as it was a time when killing demons to earn karma (experience) was considered a religious activity.

    Vikir had in countless demons, and the karma had been umting nicely, stored in his soul.

    This was true even after his regression.

    As such, the current Vikir is the only one who can wield divine power without being a priest.

    However, there was a slight limitation on the use of holy power without being a member of Rune: it could only be done within a sanctuary.

    Where Vikir currently stood was the realm of the Faithful Quavadis, and thus a sanctuary.

    Vikir walked over to the moaning man and reached out.

    ...Pit!

    A weak stream of holy power began to heal the patient''s body.

    The priests, wide-eyed at the sight of Vikir''s holy power, rushed over to watch.

    It was the first time they had ever seen someone who was not a priest of House Quavadis use holy power.

    Moreover, Vikir was a master at using holy power efficiently.

    "That, too, I have learned from surviving the Age of Destruction."

    Priests treating a patient in a mad rush. Looking over their shoulders, Vikir learned how to use divine power.

    It was simple, really.

    A simple one, in fact: slit the wound with a scalpel and let the holy power seep straight through to the primary injury.

    A great deal of divine power is wasted in performing miracles byying on skin, holding hands, or casting blessings from afar.

    Instead, it was most efficient to channel the divine power concentrated at the source of the pain.

    Vikir took his scalpel and made small incisions in the reddened spots, channeling holy power through the flowing blood.

    The sanctuary of the Quavadis was filled with grace, and Vikir was able to draw upon a significant amount of holy power.

    Of course, since he was not a priest, he could not use it for long.

    And the priests who had witnessed Vikir''s miracles and performances were beginning to flock to him one by one.

    Survival skills that could be used by anyone in the Age of Destruction were considered unheard of and unrivaled here.

    Moreover.

    The priests'' surprise was not yet over.

    Vikir has been dying the spread of patients with abination of all kinds of herbs he has picked from the waters of the Red and ck Mountains.

    It was something he had learned from the warriors of Bk during thest two years of living in depth.

    A medicine that would not stop the gue, but would dy its spread and suffering as long as possible.

    Made from recipes and ingredients unknown to the empire, it reduced the fevers and groans of the patients, at least a little.

    Like this. Vikir moved among the patients, taking in their filth and theirints, and yet calmly and silently tending to them all.

    This, of course, was done for a reason.

    First, to give confidence to the priests of Quavadis, second, to take the essence of the holy water to his friends in farawaynds, and third, out ofpassion for those who had died the red death because of him.

    "...."

    Everyone watched Vikir''s miracle with their mouths half open.

    Then.

    "Aaahhh- Mommy! Mommy!"

    A child cries, shaking the body of a lying woman.

    The woman''s body was still pale in color, though a few red spots had sprung up.

    The problem was that her body was dangerously weak even in this state.

    Vikir ced his hand on the child''s head.

    "Don''t worry. I''ll cure your mother right away."

    After saying this, Vikir lifted the disease from the woman''s body.

    He also grabbed a bunch of gold coins from his pocket and handed them to the child.

    "Sickness is sickness, but you are malnourished. Use this to buy food and firewood to care for your mother."

    The child hangs his head in shame, his face covered in tears and snot.

    Then, seeing the child receive the money, many sick people rushed to Vikir.

    They, too, stretch out their hands for money.

    One of the priests was puzzled and said to Vikir.

    "No, no material help, there''s no limit, you''ll have to give them all the money you have!"

    Vikir shrugged it off.

    "Why shouldn''t there be a limit? There''s definitely a limit to the money in my pocket, and I''ll just have to give it all away."

    With that, Vikir distributed the money to the sick people around him and their families.

    Vikir then discarded the empty leather pouch without a trace of regret and returned to his work.

    The priests stood dumbfounded, shocked once more.

    St. Dolores was one of them.

    "...."

    She gazed at Vikir''s broad back and remembered what had happened earlier.

    The young men who had flirted with her.

    They boasted of their noble status and vast wealth, showering the slums with donations and supplies.

    But their demeanor was arrogant, and in their hearts they despised and looked down on the poor.

    But what about Vikir? He didn''t hesitate to give away all the money in his pocket.

    Though the amount was small, it was a great act of sharing and sacrifice.

    This is why the Bible says that a beggar who gives a bowl of porridge may be more noble than a rich man who gives a thousand gold coins.

    Dolores thought silently.

    In a ce where filth and pestilence reigned supreme, this man worked harder than anyone else to help the less fortunate.

    A man who seems to have lived on the front lines of a fierce battle.

    This man with the aura of a pilgrim, a seeker, a prophet.

    This man has a sad, lonely soul that doesn''t match his strong body.

    A man who calls himself a hound, but inside he is a lost and tired puppy.

    This man is crying and bleeding with his soul.

    ...Where the hell does hee from?

    Suddenly, Dolores remembered a line he had muttered in a hushed voice some time ago.

    "Theology is essentially a process of understanding human beings, so this is inevitable."

    And then.

    ...a thud!

    A throbbing pulse, a fast-flowing bloodstream.

    My heart dropped to the bottom of my chest once, and then came back up again.

    A saint, and a still young and immature sixteen-year-old girl.

    Dolores''s heart was beating fast.

    Toward the faceless man in front of him.

 Chapter 81: The Saintess (5)

    <h4>Chapter 81: The Saintess (5)</h4>

    The priests of Quavadis havee together and prayed day and night, and all of Phase III has been sessful.

    The essence of divine power, capable of cleansing arge area of gues with a single drop.

    Three drops of this extremely concentrated holy water were made as a backup.

    ny de Verge (Saintess''s Tears).

    Just one drop was enough to uproot all the gues in the slums.

    Dolores recited a prayer of blessing and thanksgiving over the three final drops of holy water.

    [Behold, all of you. Here is a woman with her only son. Do you know the grief of a mother who sees her son hanging? I, the unfortunate one who had to raise the Son of God, howled from that night to the next, and it is so painful that my heart does not follow me. This day, O my beautiful and excellent son, shall be the most bitter and sorrowful day for me...]

    The epic written by the first saintess weeping shines by consoling all the holy sacrifices in this world.

    Then three drops of holy water began to emit a bright light.

    Archbishop Mozgus bowed respectfully and ced the small ss jar containing them on a tray.

    Dozens of bishops then followed him in carrying the holy water.

    It was to be stored in a solid underground vault deep inside the official residence of Saint Ma branch of the Quo Vadis family.

    Soon, a crowd of priests gathered in the main building of the Quabvadis family to watch the procession.

    "...."

    Dolores felt the awkwardness and difort in the air.

    The Holy City of Quavadis had recently been in the midst of a civil war, and here were the two leading factions, the Old Covenant and the New Covenant, all in one ce.

    The gue, the Red Death, was a huge problem.

    Suddenly, a middle-aged man with a grave and sleek appearance looked at Dolores.

    "Come closer. My Nymphet, my daughter."

    Dolores hesitated slightly at the words, then lowered her eyes respectfully.

    "...Yes, father."

    With that, she walked with slow, small steps to stand in front of the man.

    Dolores'' eyes took in his face.

    ''Humbert humbert L Quovadis.

    A man who holds the title of Cardinal, the de facto highest dignity of the Old Order, a position so exalted that there is no ce higher except for the Pope.

    He reached out and stroked Dolores''s head once, lightly.

    "You''ve made a great dedication this time."

    "You are ttering me."

    Dolores was very careful with her father.

    It was an uncharacteristic demeanor for a father-daughter duo, but it was alsomonce inrge families, so no one thought it odd.

    Humbert, on the other hand, recognized Dolores'' demure demeanor and nodded.

    "Very well. Give me a report on what''s been going on."

    " ... I''ve been working on a report, can I give it to you right away?"

    "''Better say it out loud. Writing is stiff."

    Dolores nodded silently at Humbert''s words.

    "We''ll use the first batch of ''Saint''s Tears'' to cleanse all the waterways that run underground in St. Ma."

    "Have you found the source of the gue?"

    "Yes. It was an unregistered well high above the slums."

    Dolores was a born investigator.

    She was a member of the Academy''s detective club when she was a first-year student.

    Dolores focused her investigations on slum patients, mostly children, and was able to secure a number of testimonies of ghostly sightings at a well.

    When the children imed that a ghost had cursed the well, Dolores went to investigate.

    Sure enough, the well was heavily contaminated with gue, and he found a ss jar in which the killer had allegedly ced the gue bacteria.

    What''s more.

    "And while investigating the area, we found a suspicious object."

    This is where the report stops.

    At Humbert''s questioning look, Dolores pulled out the evidence, wrapped in a clean cloth.

    Humbert''s eyes widened at the sight of it.

    "Is this ...?"

    A single dagger.

    With arge snake emzoned on it, it was unmistakably the symbol of Leviathan.

    Also lying next to it was a button.

    A golden button with a scythe and hammer on it, clearly the mark of the tycoon bourgeois.

    "Where did you get these?"

    "They fell in different ces by the well."

    Then Cardinal Humbert''s eyes dart around rapidly.

    In his mind, the cause-and-effect chain was already being put together.

    " ...You said that the structure of the gue seemed to be artificially created."

    To create a gue of this magnitude, not only would it require an intimate knowledge of poisons, but it would also require huge research funds.

    BANG!

    Cardinal Humbert stomped his foot once, hard.

    The white marble floor cracked and the two stone pirs around him crumbled.

    "I dere a crusade! How dare you, you lowly vipers, and mistresses dare to spheme... ... !"

    Even the Emperor bows to the will of the Quovadis, so how dare these lowly poison-making, money-grubbing creatures make such a challenge!

    Indeed, there was an undercurrent of strife among the seven families of the empire.

    "...."

    Dolores remained silent, her mouth agape.

    Then, something came out of Cardinal Humbert''s mouth that made her eyes widen.

    " ...Did you say hound of the night?"

    Humbert said, his handsome face contorting.

    "He''s suspicious, too. Take him in and put him before the Inquisition. Make him spit out everything he knows."

    At this, Dolores visibly panicked.

    Her calm, cool demeanor crumbled in an instant.

    She looked like any other sixteen-year-old girl and shouted urgently.

    "He''s not guilty!"

    "...?"

    Dolores suddenly protested, and Humbert''s expression hardened for an instant.

    "...Him?"

    Humbert looked down at Dolores in disbelief.

    "Daughter, what are you saying...?"

    Dolores, the daughter who had always moved so dutifully, without a word of protest.

    She had been a good daughter who had never gone against her father''s wishes since she was born, except for her enemies in the New Order.

    But what about now?

    "...."

    Dolores met Humbert''s gaze, her fists clenched and shaking.

    It was as if he was determined to defend the existence of the Hound of the Night.

    "There''s no way a man so dedicated to the poor could be evil!"

    Dolores had heard the testimonies of many patients.

    A man who stayed up all night to see them, saying over and over again that he was sorry for what he had done.

    A man who used divine powers, albeit weak ones, and who gave away all his possessions to his patients.

    ''Why did he say he was sorry to his patients?''

    For not being able to cure them sooner or more? If that was the case, Dolores felt strongly about it.

    She had felt sorry for sick people every time. Then others would ask her what she was sorry for. Or rather, why would someone who should be grateful be sorry?

    But even so, Dolores was sorry. I always felt sorry for everyone.

    And the Hound of the Night understood that. Empathized with her.

    She remembered a conversation she''d had with the Night Hound not long ago.

    ''I was lucky enough to be born with divine powers, but I''m weak in body, mind, and faith. Someone as strong as you should have been born with these powers....''

    Why did God choose her to be a saint? There are plenty of other people with strong faith who don''t have divine powers. Why did he give her the undeserved title of saint?

    The Night Hound turned to Dolores, her head bowed and weeping.

    ''The very fact that you are so distressed and sorry must be why the gods chose you. It must be the love of the gods you speak of that shines through in the lowest, fiercest ces.''

    Dolores couldn''t help but sigh softly.

    The words wereforting, as if spoken by a veteran saint who had seen all the ups and downs.

    This advice hit her like a knock on the door from her future self to her present self.

    Like a wise old saint from the ssical era, or a big sister to emte and follow.

    Watching the hounds of the night, she felt a little like that.

    ''When I get older, will I be able to say the same words you just said?''

    ''... Perhaps you will be.''

    He answered strangely, giving Dolores a faint glimpse of trust.

    The sixteen-year-old girl admired that.

    Perhaps that''s why she was so adamant about the Hound of the Night''s innocence in front of her father, Cardinal Humbert.

    But.

    "...."

    The more vigorously Dolores defended herself, the harder Humbert''s expression hardened.

    Then Humbert motioned to a number of bishops.

    "Prepare for an urgent arrest. We will meet and question him."

    Dolores''s pleas were to no avail.

    Humbert strode off, his demeanor even more murderous than before, and headed for the chambers where the Hound of the Night was supposed to be staying.

    Dolores followed Humbert in a panic.

    He was ready to throw himself down and wrap his arms around the Night Hound if he had to.

    ... but.

    "!?"

    Everyone standing in front of the cabin couldn''t help but open their eyes wide.

    Whirring.

    An empty cabin. The curtains swallowed the winding in through the broken ss window and puffed up like ghosts.

    A hound of the night, long gone.

    The priest''s urgent shouts from downstairs gave away the situation.

    "There''s trouble! A drop of the saint''s tears has gone missing!"

    The moment.

    "...aah!

    Dolores opened her mouth in silence.

    Now he had a vague idea of why he hade here.

    And the vague certainty that now that he had served his purpose, he would never see him again.

    As Humbert and the pdins fussed and organized a pursuit party, Dolores stared out the window into the darkness.

    The empty rooms, the broken windows, and the cold breeze brought the reality back to him.

    ...Thud!

    His heart sank once more.

    It was a different beat than thest.

 Chapter 82: Lovesickness (1)

    <h4>Chapter 82: Lovesickness (1)</h4>

    Aiyen had a dream.

    Her first memory was of being ripped apart by scorching mes and sharp ws.

    Cerberus, the three-headed dog of hell.

    This dangerous beast emerged from the depths of an oil pit and breathed hot air and snapped its teeth at the uninvited who trespassed on its territory.

    As Madame Eight-Legged, the goddess of depths, expanded her territory, the warriors of Bk were forced to follow her.

    They were inevitably forced into a hunting ground dispute with Cerberus, and eventually seeded in driving the original owner of the realm far away.

    In the process, Aiyen was mortally wounded and dropped from the pack.

    She thought she was going to die, but... still had a long life ahead of her.

    Imperial vers exploring the jungle found her dying, gave her minimal medical attention, and sold her into very.

    Thrown into a cold cage by human beings without blood or tears. Aiyen feared death, or worse, doom.

    Now it is self-evident that he will nevere out of this cage, but will wither and die in agony.

    His freedom to roam the vast depths is gone, and his honor as a proud warrior will be tarnished.

    What will be of you?

    Will you live a miserable life as a castle puppet for the greedy empire of Fatty? Or will he be a diatorial ve, doomed to fight demons until the day he dies, and end up as a mere piece of meat on the tables of gluttonous gourmets who lust after human flesh?

    Aiyen''s body and mind were weakened by his festering wounds, his rising temperature, and the fact that she hadn''t had a sip of water in days.

    As the proud jungle warrior fell to the ground, wings broken, dying a slow death.

    A miracle happened.

    A boy appeared with a white light.

    He casually lifted the shroud of darkness over Aiyen''s fate and cast a beam of brilliant light.

    Her eyes were immediately drawn to his beautiful appearance, hisbat prowess, and most of all, his brave and regal demeanor, which she had never seen before in her life.

    Had there ever been a warrior of her age capable of such strength?

    Not even among the strong and brave warriors of the Bk was there a man of such excellence, among an empire that thought only of them as cunning and dirty.

    Through his fading consciousness, Aiyen watched as the ve traders who had mistreated him, treating him like an animal, cattle, were dragged away, all dead or with their limbs torn off.

    That bloody night.

    The boy took her out of the cage and sent her back to the home she''d always dreamed of.

    And since then, Aiyen has never forgotten the boy''s face.

    Aiyen has consistently crossed the borders of the Empire with the sole intention of finding Vikir.

    To invade the Empire was to risk her life.

    She crossed the border, sometimes in groups, sometimes alone, to find the boy.

    Living in a smallmunity in the jungle, she had no idea there were so many Imperials.

    But the boy was extraordinary, and she knew that if she kept searching through the crowds, she would find him one day.

    One by one, Bk''s otherpanions achieved their goals.

    A man in Bk kidnapped a woman from the Empire to be his wife, and a woman from Bk kidnapped a man from the Empire to be her husband.

    One by one, herpanions seeded, but Aiyen continued her hunt.

    She was waiting. For the one that would one day miraculously arrive. It was inevitable.

    While all the other girls her age had captured and paired up with suitable men, Aiyen stood firmly alone.

    She didn''t even look at other men.

    Until one day.

    Aiyen met a boy.

    A boy, the same boy from the night before.

    But in his arms was a different woman.

    A woman. Aiyen felt a ck fire boiling in his chest, a fire that burned only in the oil world.

    But Aiyen was a cool headed woman, and she quickly tamed the mes within her.

    She decided to dismiss the boy''s past favoritism toward women.

    It''s not about the past that can''t be changed, it''s about the future they can build together.

    The problem was, the boy didn''t fit into her ns at all.

    The boy had grown stronger since theirst meeting.

    He fought brilliantly against several of Bk''s warriors, proving himself extraordinary yet again.

    The more he saw of the boy, the more he wanted him. To own him. To have him as her own.

    And that desire grew stronger as she watched the boy charge at Madame Eight-Legged, unfazed.

    In Bk, brave warriors are treated as such. The boy deserved it.

    So Aiyen turned to flee.

    He wanted to save the boy, even if it meant being caught by the terrifying Madame.

    ...How could he even think of facing that monstrous creature?

    His legs were shaking and he was breaking out in a cold sweat, but nevertheless, Aiyen pushed through his fear.

    In a moment of crisis, she threw thesso and seeded in freeing the boy from the Madame''s eight legs.

    Aiyen then brought the boy back to the tribe, his body ruined by his fight with the Madame.

    There was some bacsh.

    The cranky old bastards didn''t like outsiders from the Empire.

    Rumors that the boy might have ties to the Baskervilles, Bk''s nemesis and arch-enemy, led many to suggest that he be executed.

    It was Aiyen who steadfastly refused.

    She argued that the boy had saved her life and that keeping him alive would benefit the tribe.

    And her foresight was spot-on.

    The more the boy recovered, the better for the tribe.

    He went on hunts, brought back big prey, scolded traders who had always treated the natives poorly, and even provided cures for the gue.

    Other than that, the days of living together in the vige began to pass like a lightning bolt.

    The days of pissing on each other, eating decoctions of bear genitals, hunting together, and bathing in the hot springs all blur together in a dreamy, milky way.

    For some time now, Aiyen had really, truly wanted the boy.

    It was a feeling that had long since transcended the simple concept of possessiveness.

    ... Just then.

    "Sweetheart, get up."

    Someone shook Aiyen awake.

    She lifted her heavy eyelids and looked straight ahead through blurred vision.

    She could see the straw woven ceiling.

    Aiyen was now lying in bed, sweating profusely.

    He was flushed, his temperature was rising, he was losing his appetite, he was sweating profusely, and he was dehydrated.

    With difficulty, Aiyen turned his head to look at the figure beside him.

    The Bk chieftain, Aqu, stared down at him with concern.

    Aqu wiped Aiyen''s face with a damp cloth and spoke.

    "You kept looking for Vikir in your sleep."

    "...It''s so painful, Mother, could this be the Red Death?"

    Aiyen said, gasping for breath.

    Then Aqu squinted her eyes and examined her daughter''s entire body.

    Aiyeny without a single thread of clothing on her body.

    Her temperature was rising, and she was sweating profusely. Her whole body is flushed red.

    But there are no obvious spots.

    Aqu pondered.

    "His symptoms are a little different from the other children with the Red Death...maybe it''s ..., maybe it''s not.

    As she pondered, Aiyen frowned and clutched at her chest with her hand.

    "The pain is getting worse, my chest hurts, my body is hot, and I feel like my heart is drying up."

    "Hang in there, girl. Vikir will be here soon. He''s the man you sent for."

    "...I''m fine without him, he''s noting back."

    But despite her words, Aiyen''s anguish is palpable.

    She turns to Aqu, almost pleading.

    "Mother, I''ve never been so sick before, to the point where I me you for giving birth to me. I shouldn''t be like this, but the words ''why did you give birth to me'' keeping out of my mouth."

    As Aiyen sobbed, Aqu held her close.

    Not with the majesty of a chieftain, but with thepassion of a mother.

    "My dear."

    Aqu spoke softly to Aiyen.

    "A long time ago. Me and your father nted a tiny little seed in the dirt."

    It was the first time Aqu had ever told her father''s story, and Aiyen listened attentively through her fading consciousness.

    Aqu continued.

    "Your father nted a seed in the soil and your mother watered it every day. Soon, the seed sprouted, and after a few months, it became a healthy, beautiful flower."

    Aqu said, cupping her daughter Aiyen''s face in her hands.

    Aiyen looked up at Aqu with tearful eyes.

    A warm, tender emotion rose between the mother and daughter that was hard to describe.

    Finally, Aqu finished.

    "And so we picked the flower, crushed it, squeezed the juice out of it, soaked it in tobo, smoked it, and, in a dazed and euphoric state, had unprotected sex. That day you were born."

    "...."

    "Oh, and your father was executed by your grandfather the very next day for ying mean tricks with drugs."

    Aiyen looked a little defeated after learning the secret of his birth.

    " ...my body aches even more, Mother."

    "Wait a little longer. If Vikires with a way to cure the gue...."

    "Forget it, don''t torture my hopes, he''s noting back! What ve in the world woulde back when his leash is off...!?"

    That moment. Aqu and Aiyen''s conversation was cut off.

    Amotion erupted from outside the door.

    "Wow, they''re here!"

    " Vikir! Vikir is back!"

    "A cure! He''s brought a cure!"

    Aqu, who had good ears, heard the shouts of joy from her tribe.

    She turned her head, her face brightening.

    "See, daughter, I did not tell you...."

    But Aqu couldn''t finish her sentence.

    A bang!

    In an instant, she was up and out of her seat, smashing through the wall.

    As if she hadn''t been sick before, she climbed down the tree and ran at full speed.

    Aqu stares after her, mouth agape in disbelief.

    "... Wasn''t that a red death?"

 Chapter 83: Lovesickness (2)

    <h4>Chapter 83: Lovesickness (2)</h4>

    The Hound of the Night has returned.

    By the time Vikir returned to Bk''s vige, the Red Death had spread across thends.

    Bk built a house on the water and built a dam to trap the water, so the damage was small, but the conditions of other neighboring tribes were truly miserable.

    Ahun was the first toe out when he heard that Vikir had returned.

    He ran up to him, his face full of tears, and as soon as he saw Vikir, he threw himself into his arms.

    "You''re back!"

    Ahun had been visibly shaken for days.

    He had barely eaten or slept since his only sister, Ahul, had fallen ill with the Red Death, and all he had done was care for her.

    Ahun took Vikir''s hand through thick tears.

    "Thank you foring back. You are a loyal boy. It''s okay if you didn''t get the cure, just the fact that you came back like this...."

    They seemed to misunderstand because Vikir hade empty-handed.

    But Vikir had definitely brought it with him.

    A miracle that would cure all his friends in the dephts.

    "Follow me."

    "...?"

    Vikir tugged a dazed Ahun along, heading straight for his barracks.

    Ahun''s barracks, right near the entrance to the vige, where Ahuly moaning.

    She was the first to be struck by the red death, so she was in the worst condition.

    Her face is now halved, but she''s clean, free of dirt and foul odors, thanks to Ahun''s good care.

    Without a second thought, Vikir took out the vial of Saint''s Tears.

    ...Pow!

    The Saint''s Tears from his pocket hadn''t even opened the vial yet, yet it still exerted a strong divine power.

    Surprisingly, the light emanating from the saint''s tears was enough to drive the red death out of Ahul''s body.

    The red spots were disappearing.

    The disease that had been tormenting him for so long had vanished with such ease.

    "...! ...! ...! ...!"

    Ahun''s eyes widened to tears at the miraculous scene.

    The fact that he was frozen in ce, unable to even scream, gave him away.

    Ahun stroked Ahul''s face with a trembling hand.

    His face was contorted and sweating, but Ahul was asleep, looking more rxed than he had in a long time.

    All he could do was moan and sweat in a colorful rasp.

    "...Vikir!"

    Ahul called out breathlessly, and then a few more times in quick session.

    " Vikir! Vikir! Vikir! Vikir!"

    The tone was careful but reverent, like a devout priest saying the name of God in prayer, with infinite trust, affection, and joy.

    And it was the same with Ahun''s closest associates.

    Friends who had to witness the pain and sorrow of a friend they were close enough to trust with their lives.

    They, too, could not help but chant his name vigorously in the face of his miraculous ability to st away all their anxiety, bitterness, helplessness, and frustration with a single blow.

    "Vikir! Vikir! Vikir! Vikir! Vikir!"

    The sturdy Bk warriors stamped their feet and cheered so loudly that the floating house nearly copsed.

    But Vikir remained calm in the midst of all the excitement.

    He had just cured one patient. There was still a long way to go.

    Bikir turned to Ahun and the other Bk warriors.

    "How many patients do you have?"

    "About thirty, including Ahul."

    Vikir nodded at that.

    It was still a rtively small number, one that could be suppressed early.

    But they shouldn''t let their guard down.

    Vikir was nning to not only destroy the entire n of the poisonous master Leviathan, but also absorb all the ripple effects of it.

    "What about the other tribes?"

    Vikir asked, and Ahun replied with a dark look.

    "It''s hopeless. Some of them have been all but wiped out, other tribes that didn''t build floating houses. But those who took your advice and built floating houses have suffered less."

    "How many patients are there, exactly?"

    "I don''t know, but there are a lot of them, like the herds of buffalo in those hilly fields."

    Somewhere in the tens of thousands.

    Vikir made a decision.

    "Round up all the patients from the other tribes."

    "Huh? Other tribes? But there are so many cures?"

    "Don''t worry, there are plenty. Let''s take this opportunity to show the other tribes some respect."

    Hearing Vikir''s words, Ahun and the other young warriors'' faces lit up.

    Why should they care about the other tribes?

    It is not unusual for tribes to be rted by friendship or blood, even if they are strangers in a distantnd.

    They often had disputes over marriage and hunting, but they had a history ofing together in times of crisis.

    Upon hearing Vikir''s words, Bk''s warriors flew out of the vige to spread the good news.

    Meanwhile.

    "...."

    Vikir''s eyes shone as he looked into the tears of the saint.

    "We can use this opportunity to put a lot of pressure on the Baskervilles."

    Vikir nned to take advantage of this opportunity to unite the enemy and the barbarian forces of the ck Mountains.

    Baskerville is an Ironde whose primary mission is to explore and destroy the Enemy and the ck Mountains.

    Baskerville''s greatest enemies are not the other six Houses of the Empire.

    It''s their enemies, the natives of the ck Mountains.

    The warrior n Bk, the shaman n Rokoko, and many other native factions are Baskerville''s most feared foes.

    They pierced the sword-like des of the forest with their bare skin and stomped barefoot on the forest floor, which seemed to be dotted with nails and tacks.

    Thousands of paces away, arrows hit willow leaves, and axes and swords cut great beasts in half.

    Such is the daily life of the natives of Red & ck Mountain.

    If Vikir could get them on his side by paying them off, he could take on the entire Baskerville family single-handedly.

    Moreover, if the natives were able to stem the gue early and grow stronger, they would naturally be able to put pressure on the Baskervilles and the Empire.

    "For that to happen, we need to remain on friendly terms with them."

    Vikir is now a hero of Bk.

    But now he''s about to be the hero of the entire Jungle tribe.

    The misdeeds of Leviathan, the Extremist, were working in Vikir''s favor.

    "We''re running out of time. We must hurry before the death toll rises."

    Using the light from the saint''s tears, Vikir cured all of Bk''s patients.

    Now all that remained was to purify the water source.

    The tears of the saint were to be sprinkled on the teats of the jungle, on the rivers that flowed from the highest ces and spread to all the londs.

    Vikir moved quickly.

    He''d been living here for two years and already knew where the water sources were.

    And with him came the entire tribe.

    Even some of Bk''s more unusual enemies bowed their heads as they entered, including the shamanic Rococo, notorious for their cannibalism, and the berserker Renaissance, whose entire tribe could take on an entirepany of the Empire with a single axe.

    When the chieftain Aqu led them all to the source of the water.

    "All of you may drink of this water."

    Bikir sprinkled the tears of a saint into the river.

    Suddenly, a bright light emanated from the entire vast river.

    It was a beautiful sight, as if the Milky Way in the night sky had descended to earth and was flowing.

    Mesmerized by this mysterious light, the natives spontaneously scooped up water from the river with their hands.

    And a miracle happened.

    The "red death" began to die.

    "Oh-oh-oh-oh!"

    The entire jungle erupted in a shout that seemed to carry away.

    Aqu, the Bk chieftain, cried out in excitement.

    "Vikir, I must appoint you shaman of our tribe!"

    The Night Fox praises the Night Hound.

    All the other tribes gathered here shout out to Vikir, each in their ownnguage and gestures.

    They all have different ways of expressing themselves, but they all want to express the same thing.

    The expressions of love, respect, and gratitude were heartwarming.

    The gue patients, whether they were family members, friends, or patients themselves, dropped to one knee in front of Vikir and paid him the utmost respect.

    This means that everyone in the jungle is grateful to Vikir.

    Even the crooked old men who had been viewed unfavorably within the Bk bowed deeply to Bikir.

    It was heartfelt gratitude for saving their sons, daughters, sons-inw, daughters-inw, grandsons, and granddaughters.

    Meanwhile.

    "...?"

    Vikir was looking for someone in addition to treating countless patients.

    A face he''d heard had the Red Death, but couldn''t figure out why he couldn''t see.

    Vikir looked around for a long time, but the face he was looking for was nowhere to be found among the cloud of patients.

    Just then.

    Ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta.

    The sound of footsteps.

    Vikir knew from the sound alone that the person he was looking for had arrived.

    He turned his head.

    Puck.

    Something rushes at me at breakneck speed, mming into me.

    Aiyen. She rushes forward and wraps her arms around Vikir''s body.

    Thud!

    Muscles clench, bones scream.

    I had to raise the mana because I thought I might break my back the moment I got out of the way.

    Next, Vikir grabs Aiyen''s cheek as she buries her face in his chest.

    "I thought you had the Red Death?"

    But Aiyen''s face, staring up at Vikir, was intact.

    There was no redness in her body, no sweat. Herplexion was normal.

    The only thing that bothered him was the youthful blush across her face.

    Just to be on the safe side, Bikir sshed some holy water on her face, but the flush didn''t subside.

    She looks down at herself with a puzzled expression.

    "What is ...?"

    She scratched her head in confusion.

    He looked up into Vikir''s face again and said.

    "You''re feeling better, aren''t you?"

 Chapter 84: The Illiad (1)

    <h4>Chapter 84: The Illiad (1)</h4>

    It had been several days since Vikir had returned to Bk''s vige.

    The Red Death had beenpletely uprooted, but its aftermath was far from over.

    Though freed from the horrors of the gue, many were weak from dehydration and upset stomachs, and much nourishment was needed for the sick.

    So the unaffected warriors hunted hard for food for their families and friends.

    Vikir and Aiyen were among them.

    "...shhh. Found it."

    Aiyen was the first to spot the prey.

    Bikir''s senses were sharpened, and he knew where it was.

    Two years ago, when Aiyen would say, "Look, there it is!" and point to it with his finger, Bikir would say, "Where? I don''t see it.

    But now Vikir is almost as good at spotting prey as Aiyen.

    The prey Vikir and Aiyen have their eyes on is one they''ve met before.

    Woo-woo-woo-woo-woo-woo-woo

    On a branch, a snake swallows arge jaguar whole.

    A mouth as big as a catfish, a bizarrely t snout, razor-sharp teeth.

    <Mushuhushu>

    Danger Rating : A+

    Size: 32 meters

    Found in: Ridge 8, Red and ck Mountains

    -Named ''Full-body Intestine Snake''.

    A snake whose entire body is made up of intestines.

    It boasts arge mouth and appetite that can swallow an elephant in one bite, and legend has it that the giant Mushuhushu, which has lived since time immemorial, can swallow an entire country.

    They are famously silent as they crawl across the ground or swim through the water.

    At first nce, you wouldn''t think it was a snake at all.

    Evenpared to othermon Mushuhushu, this old individual is more than twice asrge.

    They can reach up to 40 meters in length, weigh more than 5 tons, and have a mid-body bridle of up to 3 meters.

    Considering that the average individual stops growing between 25 and 30 meters long, that''s a lot of size.

    Aiyen carefully examined the snake.

    "His name is Ka''ah, and he''s a rival to Gustav, the lizard from the swamp far away. There''s no other creature in this neighborhood that can match him."

    Aiyen was right to be cautious.

    The giant Mushuhushu named Ka''ah was not only huge, but it made no sound when it moved.

    Its natural protective coloring, silent movements, and overwhelming strength and size would have been enough to keep it as the dominant force in a region.

    But today it had met its match.

    Vikir bared his fangs at the snake.

    "You''re old. It is time to repay the debt of the rainy season."

    Once before, he had raided a Bk vige.

    It was a night of torrential rain. He came down the overflowing river and attacked Bk''s warriors.

    Vikir had fought it with his baskerville flesh, but he had been unable to win, and had only been able to chase it away.

    By then, the water had risen so much that he too was being swept away.

    "Now the water has gone down and he''s regained his territory. He must have regained a lot of strength. Look, he''s got a big belly."

    Aiyen pointed to the center of the giant python''s body.

    In addition to the jaguar that had just gone down its throat, the snake''s stomach seemed to contain several other beasts.

    I could tell by the way the snake''s body was bulging in several ces in the shape of a ne of pearls.

    Aiyen drew his bow.

    "If we catch him, we can get the other meat inside, and since it''s tenderized, it''ll be perfect for feeding the patients."

    "I agree."

    Vikir nocked an arrow to his bow.

    Aiyen gave Vikir a nudge and pulled the string.

    "It takes a lot of muscle to draw a bow."

    No wonder, given the tension of the draw.

    Archers actually need more arm strength than most blunt-weapon users.

    Especially since Aiyen''s bow has a unique construction, with five strings and up to ten arrows on the string.

    Pulling this off requires at least several hundred kilograms of muscle strength.

    Obviously, it''s a much harder discipline than wielding a sword or mace.

    And then.

    Puff-puff-puff.

    The auraden arrows fly out, aiming for Ka''ah''s neck.

    [...shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!]

    By the time Ka''ah realizes it, the arrows are already lodged in her throat.

    Pit.

    Vikir draws his magic sword, Beelzebub.

    Ka''ah immediately closed the distance, aiming for Aiyen, but Vikir had been waiting for that.

    Vikir attacked with a barrage of arrows, but as soon as Ka''ah was close enough, Vikir sliced him under the chin with Beelzebub.

    Snap.

    The hard scales snapped in half and red blood spurted out.

    At intermediate to advanced Graduator levels, the aura bes thick and sticky, almost indistinguishable from blood.

    Vikir continues to thrust his de, dodging Kha''ah''s dragon trim as it rampages around him.

    At this point, Ka''ah tried to fight back.

    [Woosh! Woosh!]

    He gagged and threw up something.

    Vikir recognized Ka''ah''s intentions immediately.

    " ...It vomits out the prey in its stomach to increase its mobility."

    It was a typical attack pattern of snake-like creatures.

    Once they have consumed arge meal, they can lie down and remain motionless for months, and if they need to make a quick getaway in the meantime, they will vomit up the food in their stomachs to lighten their bodies so they can escape.

    Ka''ah had lost his territory for a while due to the flooding of the river during the rainy season and hadn''t been able to feed much.

    He has also burned a lot of calories floating down the river and fighting Vikir, so he must be starving.

    As such, he''s currently consuming arge amount of food to replenish his strength.

    With a full stomach, his movements were naturally sluggish and slow.

    [Gurgle, gurgle, gurgle].

    Ka''ah wanted to vomit out all the huge chunks of meat in her stomach.

    That alone would probably shed nearly two tons of weight.

    But.

    "No way."

    Aiyen''s arrow interrupted Ka''ah''s vomiting.

    She fired another arrow, and another, and another, until it lodged near his uv.

    The target was the jaguar he had just swallowed.

    Aiyen''s arrows prated the scales that Bikir had split open, pierced the tough flesh, and lodged in the jaguar''s body in the esophagus beyond.

    It was as if giant spikes had pinned the jaguar''s carcass to Ka''ah esophagus.

    Naturally, the bodies of the other creatures Ka''ah tried to vomit up would only pile up underneath the nailed and immobile jaguar, unable to pass through the esophagus.

    In the end, Ka''ah is left with a grotesque bloated neck, unable to expel the contents of her stomach.

    Because of that, the movement became more unnatural, and even the view behind it was limited by the hood and ribs that swelled like that of a cobra.

    In more ways than one, this was good news for Vikir, who had been aiming for the snake''s vital points of attack, the back of the neck and under the chin.

    ...Kwasak!

    Vikir stretched out Beelzebub and severed the end of Ka''a''s spine, the nerve cord that connects his neck to his brain.

    A gush of cerebral fluid, bone marrow, and blood gushes out.

    Baskerville carnivorous, flesh-eating. The six ambush teeth burrowed into Ka''ah''s body, relentless and persistent.

    Pow, pow, pow, pow! Thud!

    Vikir stubbornly pounded and pounded and pounded at the wounds that had been thrust into him.

    He dug and dug and dug, tearing flesh, shattering bone, and severing nerve fibers.

    Even. Aiyen had been aiming for Ka''ah''s rear all this time.

    Boom!

    Arrow after arrow lodged in the snake''s genitals.

    "How''s she doing?"

    "...."

    Vikir sighed inwardly at Aiyen''s rxed demeanor even in this critical moment.

    And then.

    ...Thump!

    The raging leaven snake, Mushuhushu, mmed itsrge body into the ground.

    It had been a long time since he''d caught a big fish.

    * * *

    The warriors of Bk have gathered for a raid.

    They have been working hard to nourish the sick.

    Catfish, salmon, carp, and other fish fattened by the rainy season. Large lobsters and old lobsters from the Salt River. All sorts of nutritious mushrooms, roots, berries, and other ingredients were gathered together to make the soup.

    The oxbear subadult that Ahun had caught earlier was his greatest achievement so far.

    But the return of Vikir, Aiyen, and the wolf Baqira turns the tables again.

    Ahun pped Vikir on the back andughed heartily.

    "No matter what I do, I can''t beat you! Hahaha!"

    It took all of Bk''s warriors and wolves to lift and carry the giant snake.

    The old king, who had long ruled this corner of the depht, was now reduced to a tattered mass of meat.

    The lean meat was roasted, smoked, steamed, and stir-fried.

    The bones made into broths, medicines, and other things.

    The entrails and blood were boiled in water and made into soup.

    The highly nutritious snake meat, stir-fried in oil and roasted until fatty and golden brown, was reliably restoring the patients'' strength.

    What''s more, the meat of the other animals in Ka''ah''s stomach was just tender enough to be eaten by the younger patients.

    Everyone is grateful to Vikir, showing him respect and love.

    But in the midst of all the attention, Vikir had other things on his mind.

    "I''m d I caught Mushuhushu. It paid off.

    The jackpot had been won.

    Vikir''s eyes lit up as he saw Mushuhushu''s soul upying one of the three orbs of the magic sword Beelzebub.

    <Binge Fly ''Beelzebub''> / Awl

    -1 slot: Burn �C Cerberus (A+)

    Slot -2: Silent Heel �C Mushuhushu(A+)

    Slot -3: Sacrum �C Oxbear(A)

    Mushuhushu Kaa''s move is in.

    Vikir''s passive is Silent Hill, which replicates the snake''s ability to make no sound when it moves.

    "...Silent Heel."

    Even if you''re just walking around, you can turn on your heels to create the same effect as if you were walking on eggshells.

    This was a deceptive ability that could be incredibly helpful for survival in dephts, and even more so for assassinations, stealth, ambushes, and even journaling.

    Furthermore, Vikir''s ability to shoot a bow would prove invaluable in the future.

    "It must be simr to the sound-killing skill that Adolf the Mad used in the past."

    Once, when Adolf attacked Bk''s hunting party to retrieve a Camus, silencing magic came in very handy.

    Vikir nodded as he watched the beads at the base of Beelzebub''s hilt glow red from the spirit of Mushuhushu.

    Just then.

    A voice drew everyone''s attention, including Vikir''s.

    "The shaman has finished his ritual!"

    The sentry shouted, and the mood in the vige suddenly turned sour.

    The Red Death had just begun, and the mysterious Ahheman, who had entered the temple to offer sacrifices and heal the sick, had finally emerged.

 Chapter 85: The Illiad (2)

    <h4>Chapter 85: The Illiad (2)</h4>

    Ahheman stepped down from the altar after a long ceremony.

    His body was drenched in sweat from the nonstop sacrifices he had been making for the past few days.

    As he descended from the altar, he saw that the entire vige was deserted andughed.

    " ... must have gotten the gue by now."

    In truth, he had known beforehand that the Red Death wasing to Bk.

    Stranger things have happened. After all, it was Ahheman himself who helped Leviathan unleash the Red Death on the jungle.

    In fact, he had been in contact with the outside world for quite some time.

    Whether it''s helping the Leviathans conduct clinical trials of new drugs or poisons on unknowing natives in the water, or aiding and abetting bourgeois families in their unfair trade practices.

    In exchange for Aheman''s secret supply of natives to test poisons and medicines on, the Leviathans would freely give him new poisons or new medicines, which in turn would establish the authority of the shaman.

    The shaman''s authority was established by secretly releasing a poison to poison a target and then using the medicine to cure the target to gain their trust.

    Sickness and medicine.

    If someone didn''t obey him, he would secretly poison them and make them sick.

    Not only does this poison the patient, but also his friends and family.

    In the close-knit atmosphere of the Bk, this was only natural.

    Only when the patient''s life seemed to be in danger would Ahheman step in.

    He would perform a convincing ritual, unleash a potion, and cure the patient, and his family and friends would be his devoted followers.

    The man''s authority is unquestioned, and his family and friends bow before him.

    Recently, he has felt the shaman''s authority waning, and he is on the verge of a crisis.

    The younger ones, including the chief''s daughter, Aiyen, had never been sick or poisoned before, so they didn''t know how to respect the shaman''s authority.

    This had been made worse by the recent arrival of the Stranger, an unwee neer from the Empire.

    Young people would go hunting without the blessings of the shaman, and other rituals were considered unnecessary and superstitious.

    Then came a proposal from the Leviathan family.

    "I''m thinking of conducting arge-scale pestilence experiment on the water."

    Ahheman swallowed hard at the words of the Leviathan''s messenger, who was shrouded in a ck cloak.

    The Leviathan''s messenger gave him the pathogen of the Red gue and his antidote.

    He was to spread the gue when the time was right, and the antidote when the time was right.

    Through this trial, Leviathan hoped to control the poption of the Red and ck Mountain natives and umte clinicopathological data to break new ground.

    By actively cooperating, Ahheman sought to elevate the authority of the shaman on thend.

    So he secretly unleashed the Red Death into the river and drowned countless people in it.

    Now that the gue has struck and everyone is wandering in the wilderness, he will make a grand entrance, release the antidote, put the situation to rest, and enjoy the power of a chieftain.

    Even the cocky youngsters who had looked down on him would now look up to him with respect and awe.

    ''...I''ve even infected my granddaughter, just in case there was any doubt.''

    The situation was perfect: he had made his own granddaughter a gue victim to avoid suspicion that he had deliberately released the poison and set himself up.

    This was Ahheman''s idea.

    ...?

    As he walked to the center of town, he couldn''t help but scratch his head.

    The vige is overwhelmingly deserted.

    The sick, their families, and friends are inherently vulnerable, looking for a ce to lean on.

    They must have pinned all their hopes on the ritualist, but no one came to greet them.

    "Are they all gone already?

    Ahheman frowned. Had the gue been stronger than expected and killed all the Bk?

    That would be a problem. They should only be sick to the point of death. One must be alive to be a follower.

    Ahheman stitched the sack containing the antidote he''d made in Leviathan to his side, then quickly crossed the town square.

    But the barracks around him were deserted.

    Only a frog croaked in a drained pool on the floor.

    Then.

    Ahheman froze in ce.

    Thick smoke was rising from a corner of the vige.

    And he could see every face he knew huddled there.

    All the people of Bk were there, all together.

    Laughing and chatting merrily, picking at the heaps of meat.

    "????"

    Ahheman''s mouth dropped open.

    How? How could they be so well, when he''d surely seen them in the throes of red death just moments before?

    He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, but it didn''t change anything.

    What''s more, the woman in front of him, stirring the boiling pot with adle, is none other than his granddaughter, Ahul!

    Ahheman''s jaw drops even further when he realizes that his granddaughter ispletely healed.

    He turns his back on the unbelievable.

    He runs at the moonlight, crosses the vige boundary, and heads for the water source-the same river where he released the Red Death.

    "...Huck, huck!"

    Running like the wind, he arrived at the water source in the blink of an eye and was once again horrified.

    The water source, which should have been contaminated by the Red Death, was still flowing with clear water.

    The white salt sandbar is still there, as are the carp swimming up the waterfall.

    Monkeys that should have been infected and killed by the Red Death are hopping around in the trees, and the children of the other tribes who came to catch the carp look healthy.

    There was no sign of death anywhere.

    "''No way, no how, how...!''"

    Ahheman pulled at his hair.

    The moment.

    "Why, are you surprised to see so many of them alive?"

    There was a jab that cut deep into his lungs.

    He turned his head, furious.

    Then a boy appeared behind him.

    Vikir. His red eyes glowed at Ahheman.

    * * *

    Meanwhile.

    Vikir had led all of Bk''s warriors here, including Aiyen and Ahun.

    Aiyen remembered clearly what Vikir had told them.

    "As soon as the ritual is over, Ahheman will check on the vigers, and when he sees that they are well, he will run right back here.

    Because he was the one who sprayed the red death across the jungle.

    Vikir had heard of Ahheman''s misdeeds before his regression.

    He couldn''t remember Ahheman''s name, but he could at least recall that he had a contact in Bk who had spread the Red Death, and that the contact was an old man in the position of shaman.

    "The enemy and half the natives of the ck Mountains were killed then.

    To fulfill his greed, Ahheman waited for the gue to reach its peak.

    He nned to appear at just the right time and be the savior of the entire jungle.

    But Ahheman missed the mark.

    The gue had spread out of control, and most of the patients were dying in droves.

    The carnage that followed was so horrific that it was recorded in the history of the empire.

    It was the helpless and weak civilians who were dying at the hands of the vested interests.

    Though the proper use of poison and medicine is a shaman''s means of control, Ahheman had crossed the line. And for a long time.

    "...What is it?"

    Ahheman red at Vikir with wary eyes, but he did nothing.

    All of Bk''s warriors had already surrounded him.

    Young and old alike, they were all staring at him. With murderous eyes.

    It was maddening to Ahmed, who expected to be looked upon with respect.

    "How did they cure the gue?"

    Ahheman was at a loss for words.

    Then.

    Someone stepped in front of him.

    His face went white as he recognized the man.

    The Night Fox, chieftain of the Bk. Aqu stared down at Ahheman with a fierce re.

    She held a piece of paper in her hand, an official document that she had personally obtainedst night when she traveled to the Empire.

    "Holy House Quovadis has dered a crusade against Extremist Leviathan, using him of artificially developing and releasing a gue known as the Red Death. This is a deration demanding the truth about the Red Death."

    "Is that so, and why did you send it to me...?"

    "Shaman. You think it''s strange, don''t you, why the gue that the Leviathans have been studying has broken out here in Dephts?"

    "I, I, I don''t know. I just came out of the altar holding a sacrifice for theplete recovery of the tribe members... ... ."

    Then Aqu raised her hand, interrupting Ahheman.

    She exchanged a nce with Vikir beside her before speaking.

    "None of that. I''d like to see what''s in that sack at your waist."

 Chapter 86: The Illiad (3)

    <h4>Chapter 86: The Illiad (3)</h4>

    Ahheman was panicking.

    His n to release the antidote as soon as he finished the ritual, cure everyone, and be the hero of Bk had been derailed from the start.

    He had hoped to earn everyone''s respect, but it hadn''t worked out that way.

    Most of Bk''s warriors looked at him with disdain.

    "...?"

    But he was still puzzled.

    He didn''t know how the Red Death had been cured, but should he be receiving such hostile stares just because the shaman''s ritual hadn''t worked?

    It didn''t help, but the reactions were too cold for that.

    But.

    Ahheman''s questions were answered by Aqu''s next words.

    "None of that is necessary. I want to see what''s in that sack at your waist."

    For a moment, his heart sank.

    Ahheman barely held on to his mind, which was slipping away.

    What could it be? Why would the chief want to see the sack at his waist, and at this time?

    It''s hard to say unless you know something.

    "...Did you even notice?"

    As the person responsible for spreading the red death in the waters, it was bound to make his stomach burn.

    Turning to Ahheman, Aqu urged him on.

    "What are you doing? Get that sack out of my sight."

    The chief''s authority is absolute. Once the order is given, there is no appeal.

    But the old shaman was so flustered that he denied the chief''s authority.

    "I can''t show you this, I can''t show you this!"

    He was so flustered that he didn''t know what he was talking about.

    But the consequences were heavy.

    Before he could finish, the faces of all the warriors stiffened.

    The younger warriors sighed and shook their heads, and the older ones furrowed their brows.

    The warriors'' respect and loyalty to their chieftain runs deep, regardless of generation, so there was no way Ahheman could look good.

    "He''s a creep, and I''m going to take this opportunity to make him pay!"

    An impatient Aiyen stepped forward.

    "Open that sack at once!"

    Someone stepped forward before her.

    Ahun. Ahman''s grandson, he was the first to step forward and open his palm in front of Ahheman.

    While Aiyen stood stunned by the unexpected sight, Ahun turned to Ahheman and spoke firmly.

    "There can be no disobedience to the chieftain''s word, and if you do not open that sack immediately...."

    Ahun said, pulling an arrow from his waistband and nocking it.

    Then Ahheman''s thick eyebrows shot up.

    "You rascal!"

    "...."

    But Ahun''s eyes never wavered.

    Something must have changed in his mind as he watched helplessly as his sister Ahul died of the Red Death.

    Soon, many of the warriors were booing at Ahheman.

    "Give us the sack now!"

    "Show us what''s inside!"

    "You traitor, you''re the culprit!"

    As the usations poured in, Ahheman''s face contorted more and more horribly.

    Then.

    "Come on, look! Look what''s inside!"

    He snatched the sack from his waistband.

    Then he flung it into the river that flowed beside the fire.

    Many of the warriors paused for a moment.

    An eerie silence.

    Ahheman looked back at Aqu with a triumphant smile.

    "Oops! This old man had tremor, so he dropped his sack into the river... ... ?"

    He stammered out an excuse, then paused.

    Something was about to go wrong.

    As if on cue, the warriors chattered amongst themselves and nced to one side.

    There was Vikir, arms crossed and mouth closed.

    Aqu looked back at him and said.

    "Indeed. You were right. You really are throwing the sack into the river."

    "...what?"

    Ahhman opens his mouth in disbelief.

    Just then.

    "Chief, I found it!"

    Suddenly, someone''s head pops up from the surface of the river.

    A Bk warrior, who had been lurking in the water earlier, quickly scoops up the leather sack that Ahheman had dumped.

    The sack, though waterlogged, was still half full.

    "Huh! No!"

    Ahheman jerked, but the sack was already soaked by the time he reached Aqu''s hand.

    "...."

    Aqu peered into the sack.

    It was half-floating in the water, but full of white powder.

    Aqu turned to Ahheman.

    "This is the antidote for the Red Death."

    "...."

    "Why is thising out of your hand?"

    Ahheman mouthed the words, but didn''t answer.

    Then Aqu nodded again.

    "Indeed. You were right again."

    This time, she looked back at Bikir.

    When Ahheman shook his head, Aqu threw the white powder on the ground.

    "It''s just flour, it doesn''t do anything."

    "What!"

    "I told you that you would believe this to be an antidote, and by the looks of your surprise, I''m right."

    Ahheman''s expression turns to disbelief as he realizes that the powder he''s holding is just flour.

    "That can''t be right, that must be the antidote...."

    "You have been deceived by the Leviathan family."

    Vikir said, stepping forward.

    The Leviathans had used a foolish native spy to spread the gue without an antidote.

    I saw through his power lust and ambition.

    The mood of the warriors grew somber as everything Vikir had said before came true.

    Ahheman made a desperate plea.

    "I, I don''t know, it''s just flour, just like he said!"

    "Then why did you hesitate earlier when I asked you to show me the sack, and why did youe to this water source where the Red Death first began?"

    "Shut up, why should I tell you that!"

    Vikir demanded, and Ahheman raised the lump in his throat.

    But the situation wasn''t going to get any easier for him.

    The situation was not in his favor, however, because Vikir provided even more incriminating evidence.

    From Vikir''s arms came two letters.

    There were two handwritings on them, one in terrible cursive and unrecognizable, the other in a fairly neat typeface.

    Vikir opened his mouth to speak.

    "These are the letters between the Leviathans and you."

    The evidence was conclusive.

    One of the two letters was unmistakably written in Ahheman''s handwriting.

    The eyes of all the warriors alternated between the letters and Ahheman.

    Ahheman shouted in frustration.

    "It''s a lie! I never wrote that letter!"

    But no one believed him.

    Several old elders testified that the handwriting on the letter was indeed Ahheman''s.

    "Aaahhhhhhh! It''s true! I''m innocent! He''s framing me!"

    Ahheman pointed at Vikir and jumped up and down.

    But Vikir, the target of the scolding, justughs quietly to himself.

    Because the usation is true.

    "And here I am, thanks to my Chihuahua."

    Vikir recalls an incident from two years ago.

    ''Mr. Chihuahua writes very well.''

    ''Nothing. Since I was born, I haven''t seen anyone who handles handwriting better than me. Every time the archons ask me to sign it, so I''m good at imitating other people''s handwriting... ... .''

    ''Can''t I learn to do that?

    ''Of course I can teach you, it would be my honor!

    ''Thank you. Then I''ll ask you whenever I have time.''

    It was rewarding to learn the art of handwriting forged from him diligently when I was a deputy magistrate in Underdog City.

    It was a skill that woulde in handy when it came to propaganda.

    ''Originally, agitation is easy and exnation is difficult.''

    Vikir stared at Ahheman, who was genuinely pacing in frustration.

    Meanwhile, Aqu spoke up.

    "We should see if anyone in the Leviathan family has this handwriting."

    But that would be a tall order. It would be impossible to investigate one of the seven great houses of the Empire.

    So, naturally, the mood within Bk turned toward denouncing Ahheman.

    "Traitor!"

    "You almost got my wife killed!"

    "And my children!"

    "Kill him, hang him!"

    Public opinion was turning very badly.

    Even Ahun, his grandson, was giving him the cold shoulder, and there wasn''t a single person here who was on his side.

    Ahheman gritted his teeth.

    There was no proof anyway.

    If the white powder in the sack turned out to be just flour, there was no point in executing him if he insisted on denying it until the end.

    Holding out, however dirty and deadly, was the only way to stay alive.

    "... Enough, everyone, you''re overreacting."

    That was the mood before Chief Aqu opened his mouth.

    Every warrior turned to look at him. Ahheman did the same.

    Aqu coughed a few times before speaking.

    "If you look closely, there is no evidence. Everyone, I hope that this will no longer harm the shaman''s honor. Isn''t he a public servant who has been dedicated to the tribe for a long time."

    Then there was a murmur from all around.

    Aiyen spoke up in exultation.

    "Mother, no, Chief, do you mean to tell me that you''re going to sweep this under the rug...?"

    "Enough! Respect the shaman''s authority! He has far more years of experience and dedication to the tribe than you do! Be polite!"

    At Aqu''s stern words, Aiyen mped his mouth shut.

    Many of the warriors looked disgruntled, but the chieftain''s words were absolute, and none of them spoke.

    Ahheman, the one being defended, looked dumbfounded.

    Why would the chieftain, who had so much disliked him, take his side?

    But since this was the only way out, he could only bow t to Aqu.

    "I can only be grateful for your kindness and wisdom."

    "It is nothing. It is only natural if you honor the traditions of your ancestors."

    Ahheman nodded, as if impressed.

    Just then, Aqu''s eyes glowed deeply once more.

    "How dare you allow young things who know nothing to tarnish your high honor?"

    "Yes, thank you, Chief."

    "You have nothing to thank me for. You have a reputation to uphold, not only in our tribe, but in the entire Dephts."

    "Yes. What...."

    "The honor and pride you carry on your shoulders must be very heavy, Cancer."

    "Yeah...?"

    "So today, you were framed for something without evidence, so the wounds in your heart must be very great. No wonder. Because that supreme pride has been damaged."

    "...?"

    Ahheman felt a little uneasy at the thick coating of gold.

    As if on cue, Aqu turned to face him.

    "I am about to give my friend of many years, my valued colleague, the spiritual teacher of all the young men gathered here, the opportunity to defend his innocence, his honor, his pride! Do any of you have anyints!"

    "None ah-!"

    Everyone who has guessed Aqu''s intentions cries out at once.

    Vikir, who had heard it all before, stepped forward with a calm expression.

    "...?"

    Aheman stumbles backwards as Vikir steps in front of him.

    He looked like he didn''t know what was going on.

    Finally, Aqu spoke firmly to him.

    "If you are truly innocent, use this opportunity to defend the honor and pride you have earned. After all I''ve done for you, you won''t take it away from me, will you?"

    " ...And you say opportunity?"

    Anxiety flickers in Ahheman''s eyes as he asks cautiously.

    Then, Aqu spoke.

    "Imand the Illiad."

    The Illiad was Bk''s unique way of resolving disagreements, using force to end the conflict in the winner''s favor.

    The color drained from Ahheman''s face as he heard this.

    Vikir, on the other hand,ughed quietly.

    Evidence, proof, it didn''t really matter.

    It was all just paving the way for this game.

 Chapter 87: The Illiad (4)

    <h4>Chapter 87: The Illiad (4)</h4>

    "This, the Illiad?"

    Ahheman''s expression hardened.

    "The Illiad is a contest between warrior and warrior. It is a final, life-and-death struggle for honor in which neither side can back down.

    The chieftain Aqu smiled gently and turned to Ahheman.

    "Ahheman, great shaman of Bk, you are a being of high pride and shining honor, a defender of time-honored traditions, as I have said before. Will you allow such pride, honor, and tradition to bepromised?"

    Ahheman could not help but grit his teeth.

    He wondered why the chieftain, who had always thought of him as an eyesore, had elevated him.

    It was all part ofying the groundwork to make the Iliad irresistible.

    The veteran chieftain, Aqu, is determined to use this opportunity to remove the power of the shamans, who have taken over the chieftaincy.

    He has been using his daughter, Aiyen, to incite the young people to overthrow superstitions and old habits to keep the shamans in check.

    His grandson, Ahun, didn''t take sides either.

    "Grandfather. You always said we should honor tradition. The Iliad is our Bk tradition."

    "Shut your mouth, I know that!"

    Ahheman gritted his teeth and turned his head.

    Before him stood Vikir, his expression grim.

    The enved prisoner of war had been transformed into a local hero in an instant.

    In less than two years, a ragtag outsider had filled the position that Ahheman had longed for all his life.

    Ahheman felt his clothes turn inside out.

    His anger at Vikir red up like a pir of fire in an oil field.

    "Good! I understand! I demand the Iliad from you!"

    Hearing Ahheman''s promation, Vikir nodded without a word.

    It was a sign of eptance.

    Patriarch Aqu spoke in a low voice that only Vikir could hear.

    "Do you think you win...?"

    "If you ask me to do it, I''ll do it."

    Vikir has been a hound of the Baskervilles for over fifty years, before and after his regression.

    He was used to being someone else''s sword.

    Aqu smiled with satisfaction at Vikir''s answer.

    It felt as reassuring as a sharp knife in his hand.

    "Very well, I believe you, son-inw."

    "...?"

    For a moment, Vikir thought he saw a reflection of Morg Adolf in Aqu.

    Then, all the warriors, young and old, united to fight.

    A ce where two warriors would fight for their souls.

    All the warriors watched, their hands sweating.

    Ahheman thought to himself.

    "That''s right. This is good. I''ll take this opportunity to shake off all my bitterness and reim my ce.''

    He raised his searing eyes and red at Vikir.

    As if everything would go back to normal if only that thing in front of him were gone.

    "The date is the full moon in three days," Ahheman shouted like boiling magma deep inside an active volcano.

    "The date is the night of the full moon in three days, the ce is here, and I formally challenge you to the Iliad!"

    For a moment, the warriors were stunned by the ferocity of Ahheman''s words.

    However, Vikir, who was the target of the killing, was so indifferent.

    Only.

    "Three days. Let''s do it now."

    It''s like he''s just trying to get a chore done.

    The warriors were once again impressed by Vikir''s rxed demeanor.

    Ahheman, on the other hand, broke out in a cold sweat.

    Three days of stealthy preparation had been undone.

    Vikir knows this, which is why he hasn''t given Ahheman time to think.

    "That''s what shamans do."

    He''s trying to slow down the Iliad with his usual bravado, but it''s no use.

    Vikir, too, is a worn and tattered old man who has seen it all, but he is no match for Ahheman.

    In fact, as a man who has lived through an age of destruction, he is superior to the old shaman in the art of conspiracy.

    "The Iliad gives the challenger the right to choose the date and ce, by tradition, doesn''t it?"

    At Vikir''s words, Ahheman makes a pained sound.

    He''s the one who''s always been vocal about the need to honor tradition, so he''s at a loss for words when tradition is brought up in this situation.

    Self-absorbed and self-absorbed, his own words are weighing him down.

    Seeing this, Aiyen chuckled.

    "As expected, Ahhemman''s is Ahhemman."

    Aiyen muttered something usatory, then turned his head to the side.

    He saw his loyal subordinate, trusted ally, and close friend, the wolf Bakira, sitting stoically beside him.

    Aiyen stroked Bakira''s fluffy ears and leaned in close to whisper quietly.

    "Go to the vige and tell them to prepare to wee the winner of the Iliad."

    The instructions were for those who remained in the vige to prepare a reception for Vikir.

    But.

    "Don''t do that."

    Vikir turned to Aiyen.

    When Aiyen''s eyes narrowed, Vikir turned his head and replied.

    "If you get your hopes up, you''ll always get the opposite result."

    It''s hard to prepare for variables when you''re so sure.

    Vikir watched Ahheman grit his teeth in the distance.

    He was a shaman, so there were many surprises in battle.

    Vikir had fought countless shamans, warlocks, alchemists, and the like throughout the Age of Destruction, and almost every time, there had been a surprise counterattack.

    In the end, Vikir was always the victor, but they always had a hand they kept hidden just before they died, and Vikir was used to that.

    "I don''t let my guard down even one percent.

    A hound does his best to catch a rabbit.

    This is especially true when the prey is an old roon.

    Vikir reviewed all the information he had before the regression, checking off each of the possible contingencies.

    Seeing Vikir''s cautiousness, Aiyen became cautious as well.

    She wanted to be as helpful as possible, so she told him everything she knew about Ahheman.

    There came a point in the story where Vikir''s ears perked up for a moment.

    "Wait a minute. Tell me about that part again."

    Seeing Vikir''s interest, Aiyen opened his mouth excitedly.

    "Which part are you referring to, Ahheman''s taste in underwear colors? ording to the boy in charge of theundry, he prefers tight, leopard-print pelts...."

    " ...Before that."

    "Oh, you mean his birth background?"

    Aiyen whispered to Bikir, repeating what she had heard from Aqu.

    At this point, it was a secret that no one knew except for Aqu, Aiyen, and Ahheman himself.

    "Ahheman is not a native of Bk. He was originally a member of another tribe and was kidnapped as a child. He was probably around the same age as you, Vikir."

    Vikir was a little surprised to hear that.

    He''d thought he''d been a native Bk for generations before tradition got in the way, but he was actually an outsider.

    I was even more surprised by what Aiyen said next.

    "He went around saying that he was captured for son-inw hunting, but... ... In fact, he was taken as a ve. To the shaman at the time who enjoyed sodomy."

    Perhaps because he was an outsider who had been taken as a ve as a teenager, Ahheman saw himself in Vikir.

    It was a kind of homophobia. ...

    Since Vikir, who had been like that, followed all the ideal routes and became a hero respected by everyone, Ahheman''s stomach was bound to get even worse.

    "Anyway. He was a sex ve, waiting for an opportunity, and one day he killed a shaman and took his powers."

    Aiyen went on to recount the bloody struggle Ahheman went through afterward to fit into Bk''s society.

    "He had no ce in a Bk society that valued physical strength, and he was despised for killing the shaman who had raised him, so he would do anything to be epted by his people."

    He took on all the vige''s odd jobs, from scavenging human and wolf feces to driving in dangerous game and serving as bait.

    It was not umon for him to rise at the crack of dawn and hold the shoes of the previous chieftain in his arms, warming them with his body heat.

    At that time, to impress Aqu, who was still a child, he put her on his back and crawled on all fours, imitating a dog.

    And by the time ... he was epted as a member of the tribe''s society, his gray hair had already grayed.

    As an old man, he couldn''t help but notice the privileges of his youth that he hadn''t been able to enjoy.

    The blood, violence, and impulses that had been pent up in his youth, unleashed to their fullest extent, rose to the surface with a sense ofpensation.

    And so he sought to overthrow the authority of his chieftain, Aqu, and devour Bk, and the entire jungle.

    Outside the walls, he even joined hands with the Imperial House of Leviathan!

    Meanwhile, Vikir suddenly had a question.

    "...So, what tribe was Ahheman originally from?"

    "Hmmm. I don''t know about that."

    Vikir nodded at Aiyen''s answer.

    It doesn''t really matter at this point.

    Meanwhile, Ahheman had been fidgeting nervously since earlier.

    It only intensified when Vikir entered the battlefield for the Iliad.

    Like a seasoned hound, Vikir takes his time, slowly, gradually, tightening the leash on his prey with each step.

    Prepared for every eventuality, Vikir heads into battle.

    But before the Iliad could unfold, a deadly twist urred that even the mighty Vikir could not have anticipated.

    ...Boom!

    A foot stamped the ground once behind him.

    And then someone grabbed Vikir''s wrist and yanked him backward.

    Vikir turned his head.

    "...!"

    Lips brush against Vikir''s lips.

    Aiyen, whose head has shrunk in thest two years, stares up at Vikir with a ravenous gaze.

    "Win ande back. I''ll give you something better."

    She smirked and shoved Vikir in the chest.

    Vikir thought about saying something in Moorish, but decided otherwise.

    This isn''t the most important thing right now.

    Now.

    ...Cha-ang!

    Beelzebub slices through the artery in his wrist, revealing his ck teeth.

    It was the moment when the leash of the Iron-Blooded Sword''s Hound was released.

 Chapter 88: The Illiad (5)

    <h4>Chapter 88: The Illiad (5)</h4>

    The sword forests of the Red and ck Mountains are terrible.

    Every leaf on every tree is a razor-sharp de, and there is nothing that is not deadly, from the thorny bark to the roots.

    And now, in the midst of this infernal jungle, two men were fighting for their lives.

    Vikir and Ahheman.

    They faced each other with swords at their hips and bows strapped to their backs.

    A crowd of spectators formed a wide circle around them.

    Though obscured by the dense foliage and vines, the Bk warriors with good eyes and ears could see the fight hundreds of meters away.

    Ahheman gritted his teeth.

    " ...you''ve only been running for two years."

    Vikir had only been limatized to the depht for two years.

    He, on the other hand, was used to dealing with the terrain, a body that had lived here for nearly 70 years.

    Some of the younger hunters were not even close.

    "I''ll make you regret choosing the jungle for the Iliad instead of the ins."

    Ahheman moved quickly through the jungle.

    He ducked into a tree-root vine for cover and nocked an arrow to his bow.

    "Hooray. Here''s a good one."

    He crouched down and found something beneath the roots.

    It was arge centipede with a red body and ck legs.

    He pulled out an arrow and nocked it in the centipede''s head.

    The centipede''s head shattered, spilling its venomous brain matter onto the arrowhead.

    Ahheman has alsoid out vines on the ground that are translucent and hard to see, but unbreakable and strong enough to cut through.

    If your opponent jumps on one, they''re sure to get cut, and if they''re lucky, they might even get their ankle amputated.

    I also spread dry sand and fallen leaves over the muddy pit, where the ground is soft and you''re bound to get stuck, and I dropped a few honebs, where the fierce bees are sleeping, ready to wake them up at any moment.

    "Just wait and see."

    Ahheman gripped the poisoned arrow in his hand tightly, waiting for Vikir''s figure to emerge from the dense foliage.

    Just then.

    "...Who are you waiting for?"

    The cold voice touches his ears and he freezes.

    A shudder rippled through his body.

    He turns his head, barely holding on to his falling heart, and sees Vikir''s expressionless face looming behind him.

    "Uh, how!"

    How did he get this far without making a sound?

    But Ahheman can''t bring himself to ask the question out loud.

    Vikir has sliced the awl in his hand to the side.

    Hit.

    Bikir sliced through all the ankle-cutting vines that Ahheman had set up.

    He scrambled backwards to get away from it, stepped in a puddle of mud he had hidden, and was up to his waist in water, dropping a few beehives in the process.

    Weeeeeeeeeee-.

    The homeless wasps vented their anger at Ahheman in the mud pit.

    Vikir quietly backed away, while Ahheman iled his hands in the mud, trying to swat the bees away.

    Ahheman narrowly escapes death by diving into the mud for a long time.

    But his body was already swollen with bee stings.

    Meanwhile. Ahheman had just crawled out of the mud when Vikir climbed up a tree trunk and yawned.

    "What the fuck!"

    Ahheman hung the arrow in protest.

    The centipede venom had been washed away when he fell into the mud, but the sharpness of the arrowhead was intimidating enough.

    Boom.

    The mud on the bowstring flies off in all directions.

    A powerful arrow shot vertically, aimed at Vikir.

    But.

    Boom.

    A crimson sh flew out, slicing Ahheman''s arrow in two.

    Before he could react, Vikir vanished like a ghost andnded on Ahheman''s back.

    Ahheman''s eyes were gouged out, bleeding profusely.

    Vikir''s speed was one thing, but... if there was something more amazing.

    "No sound!?

    Vikir was moving so fast, yet there was no sound.

    Obviously, Vikir was moving at a tremendous speed in front of me, but I couldn''t hear anything.

    His feet crunching through the grass, sshing through the mud, breaking branches, stomping over stones and logs.

    All of these sounds are inaudible. Or if they did, they were so faint that they were drowned out by the buzzing of grasshoppers around them.

    "Mu, what tricks are you ying, you bastard!"

    Ahheman fired arrow after arrow, but they only managed to hit a few Aman orangutans in the trees.

    Then, Vikir''s magic sword, Beelzebub, began to spit out a ck aura.

    The liquid aura, sticky as honey and tainted with blood, was an unmistakable indication of the Graduator''s advanced level.

    Ahheman was stunned by the level of aura that even Bk''s most seasoned veteran warriors could not easily manifest.

    ''This kid was this strong!''

    It''s a fighting power that doesn''t match his age at all.

    Ahheman was only too eager to retreat backwards.

    But the hound''s six teeth never let go of its prey.

    Carnivorous, Baskerville.

    Six ambush teeth lurked and leapt out, tearing at Ahheman''s entire body.

    What''s more, wherever the de''s teeth grazed, a searing sting followed.

    Moreover, a hot burning pain always visited the ce where the teeth of the de brushed past.

    The infernal mes, visible only to Bikir''s eyes, were burning directly into Ahheman''s soul.

    "Aaaahhhh!"

    Ahheman shuddered in unintelligible pain.

    It was natural to feel pain when one''s flesh is cut by a sword, but the pain from Bikir''s de was strangely intense.

    He had been struck by swords, spears, and arrows countless times in his nearly seventy years of life, but he had never felt such pain.

    It was as if he had been cut open with a ming knife, flesh by flesh, and even now the mes were burning through his skin, consuming his flesh and fat.

    Of course, the Bk warriors watching the spectacle were unaware of any of this, and could only squeal at the slightest cut, showing their contempt for Ahheman.

    "Ugh!"

    Ahheman eventually dropped the pretense.

    Honor, pride, tradition, none of that matters now.

    Bk''s warriors booed as Ahheman fled in disgrace, having challenged the younger warrior first.

    Woo-woo-woo!

    The chorus of usations and jeers from across the dense foliage made it seem as if the entire jungle was condemning him.

    He backed away in a huff and turned to fire another arrow at Vikir.

    But he hadn''t thought of that.

    Vikir, too, had spent thest two years studying archery with Aiyen, and had be quite a skilled archer.

    Ping-!

    An arrow flew in a parabolic arc.

    ...Puck!

    The arrow struck right into Ahheman''s groin.

    "Ugh!"

    Ahmed''s eyes flew open.

    He strained his eyes so hard that the flesh around his eyes was torn and tears of blood flowed.

    Then, clutching his groin, he copsed and the leaves in front of him scattered.

    Rustle.

    Vikir walked out, his face expressionless.

    "You coveted an oxbear''s genitals, and now you''ve earned it."

    Two years ago, Vikir had demanded a decoction of the genitals of his hunted prey.

    Remembering it, he bit his lip until it bled.

    "You''re ying with me!"

    "I didn''t mean to, you''re not good enough to be my ything."

    "Ugh... Ugh!"

    With that, Ahheman staggered to his feet, dropping the sword and bow in his hand.

    "...!"

    Vikir felt things take a turn for the worse.

    The wind shifted.

    Dark mana was gathering around them.

    They crackled sinisterly, converging on a single point. The palms of Ahheman''s hands!

    ''...Good. A shaman, I see.

    Vikir had been expecting a trick up his sleeve.

    The man drew a number with his blood-stained palms and chanted a strange incantation.

    The next moment, a dark current swept through the area, extending from his hands.

    Crackle, crackle, crackle!

    Vikir jerked back as he felt several individuals reaching for his ankles.

    To his surprise, several figures stood in his way.

    They were orangutan carcasses with rotting flesh and exposed bones.

    Ahheman had used witchcraft to resurrect the corpses of the orangutans he had shot with his arrows earlier.

    "It''s like this. ... ... Right. Was Ahhemman from the Rococo tribe?"

    Vikir remembered what Aiyen had told him before they had begun the Iliad.

    Ahheman was essentially an outsider, but it turns out he was from the Rokoko, a tribe of shamans.

    Known to the natives of Depht as witchcraft, and to the Empire as a form of ck magic, this bizarre practice of resuscitating the dead is one of them.

    It was also the specialty of the shamanic Rokoko people.

    In his haste, Ahheman raised the freshly dead orangutan zombies and skeletons to escort him.

    "Heh heh... heh heh heh heh, the Iliad is unorthodoxbat, it doesn''t mean you have to fight with swords and bows!"

    But in the physicality-oriented atmosphere of Bk, Ahheman''s behavior was frowned upon by many of the warriors.

    It seemed that while all the warriors had little interest in spells, he had been diligently studying and mastering them on his own.

    "Go! Go stop him! Buy me time to heal him!"

    Ahheman called for the orangutans to block Vikir''s path.

    Orangutans are almost as tall as humans and can weigh up to 100 kilograms, which should be enough to buy them some time as meat shields.

    Ahheman thought so.

    But.

    "Hmmm. Not as good as I thought."

    Vikir stamped his foot, still sounding unimpressed.

    "...?"

    Ahheman opens his mouth, wanting something.

    Puh-lease!

    Something shuts his mouth in an instant.

    It''s a tremendous impact that knocks him off his feet and onto his back!

    The impact ripped the skin off his back, broke his spine, and dislodged all of his internal organs.

    Not surprisingly, the orangutan carcasses next to him were also reduced to a pool of blood and crushed to the ground in an instant.

    Only Vikir stood back, not making a sound, not making a move.

    "????"

    Ahheman looked up, saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth. Aside from the pain, he is at a loss for words.

    His vision flips, and a giant shadow looms over him.

    [Grrrr...]

    The hulking creature pricked up its ears to see if it could see.

    An old female oxbear thrusts her massive forepaws at Ahheman.

 Chapter 89: The Ghosts of the Ancestors (1)

    <h4>Chapter 89: The Ghosts of the Ancestors (1)</h4>

    "If you don''t know what you''re going to get, don''t bother making anything."

    That''s what Hugo Les Baskerville used to say whenever he had to forge the Seven Teeth.

    He has always faced many challengers, and he has always managed to put them under his knife.

    Among those who have challenged Hugo in the meantime, there are many who have performed unexpected and unpredictable actions such as surprise attacks, assassinations, ambushes, betrayals, and curses, but in the end, all of them were useless.

    Overwhelming strength.

    In front of that, all variables and surprises are bound to degenerate into mere tricks.

    And Vikir was putting that lesson to use this time.

    [grrrrr...]

    The only difference was that the overwhelming power was not his own, but someone else''s.

    <Oxbear>.

    Danger Rating: A

    Size: 5 meters

    Found in: Red and ck Mountains, 7th Ridge

    -A giant bear with two massive horns.

    A carnivorous bear, the strongest terrestrial predator, and a perfect killing machine, it is considered the strongest and pinnacle of the Red and ck Mountains 7th Ridge ecosystem.

    They have few natural enemies other than their own kind.

    A bear with two massive horns.

    Standing at around five meters tall and weighing a ton, it is one of the most dangerous beasts in the world.

    This oxbear was even familiar with Vikir.

    "...a scruffy, blind female."

    This oxbear was more than twice as tall as the others, and weighed more than twice as much.

    If I had to rate this one, I''d give it an A+ or better.

    This was the old female''s territory, where the Iliad was taking ce.

    Vikir knew the location from a previous joint hunt with Aiyen, and had deliberately made a big fuss to attract the female oxbear.

    Achheman, who had never been out hunting, hadn''t realized it, and that''s why he''d suffered this fate.

    "Ugh...."

    Ahheman desperately wiped the frothy saliva from the corner of his mouth with both hands.

    Oxbear strained his ears to hear what was going on around him.

    ''It seems that his already bad eyes got worse.''

    This, too, was something Vikir already knew.

    Shhh.

    Vikir fell backwards silently.

    <Binge Fly ''Beelzebub''> / Awl

    -1 slot: Burn �C Cerberus (A+)

    Slot -2: Silent Hill �C Mushuhushu(A+)

    Slot -3: Sacrum �C Oxbear(A)

    Thanks to the skill I gained from capturing the giant snake Mushuhushu a while ago, my steps are silent.

    Ahheman, on the other hand, can''t help but groan in pain as Cerberus'' fire still burns in the wound Vikir left behind.

    "Hmph! Hmph!"

    Add to that the fact that his back, which had been struck by Oxbear''s forepaw just moments before, was now feeling the impact.

    The slowly recognizable pain, and the constant barrage of pain, eventually forced Ahheman''s bloodied lips to twist open.

    "Aaaaaaah!"

    And Oxbear responded to the sound immediately.

    Thwack!

    Oxbear mmed its front paws together, sending the lower half of Ahheman flying.

    He spun like a top and crashed into a tree, his legs and back bent in a strange way.

    [Crunch!]

    Oxbear once again unleashed his fury on the intruder.

    [Screech- Screech-]

    Her ears perk up at the sound of a cry from behind her.

    He spun around to see two wide-eyed Oxbear cubs.

    Their sturdy builds were uncharacteristic of cubs, and their glowing eyes hinted at intelligence.

    The female oxbear snorted at the intruders before turning back to her cubs.

    At this point, she must have decided that she had demonstrated her motherly majesty and resolve.

    And then.

    Vikir reappeared outside the bush.

    Ahheman was lying on the ground, motionless.

    But he was clearly still breathing, as his shaky breathing could be felt.

    Rustle-pass-sac

    The leaves rustled around him.

    The warriors of Bk, who have been watching the Iliad, are gathering.

    All the warriors surrounded Vikir and Ahheman.

    The winners and losers were all too clear. Vikir was unscathed, and Ahheman, though alive, was literally hanging on for his life.

    "It''s over. We have a winner."

    "At this point, doesn''t it matter if Ahheman is innocent or not?"

    "Regardless of who''s the innocent one, Ahheman was just too ugly."

    "I think it turned out very well."

    The warriors each had their say.

    From the Red gue to the present day Iliad, they''d all had their own disappointments with Ahheman, big and small.

    And as he listened to what they had to say about him, he sank to the ground like a worm, shivering.

    "Why! Why!"

    Ahheman was screaming.

    What was the difference between him and this Vikir in front of him?

    Why is his path so different from his own, even though they were both brought as ves from a foreignnd?

    He thought of all the years of misery he had endured.

    And all that Vikir had.

    Youth. The daughter of a chieftain who followed him. The trust of all her peers around it. The support and love of his tribe years ago. Her extraordinary abilities and radiant appearance.

    And yet, that glint in those eyes, as if he didn''t care about any of it.

    "...! ...! ...!"

    Ahheman gritted his teeth. He grinded his gums, even though all his teeth were missing.

    He tore his eyes away from Vikir and looked at himself.

    Old. An old shaman who treated himself like a sex puppet. Despised and ignored by all his friends. Used and abandoned by the Empire. Unrecognized abilities and a body that was now crippled.

    The inferiorityplex, defeat, hatred, anger, resentment, andpensatory feelings of an old man who has lost everything to a young man who has everything.

    And.

    "...."

    Ahun quickly turns away from the gaze that met his.

    Thest straw. His grandson''s exterior ignited Ahheman''s emotions, causing them to explode.

    Meanwhile.

    "...."

    Ahun''s head was turned away, his fists balled tightly.

    Then a hand pped him on the shoulder.

    Vikir. He looked at Ahun with calm eyes.

    "How about taking care of it with your own hands?" he said.

    "...I don''t want to."

    Ahun shook his head. He almost lost his sister during the Red Death.

    He could never forgive his grandfather for that.

    There was also bitterness and anger at the way he had treated her and his sister all these years.

    But Vikir shook his head.

    "It wouldn''t be a bad thing to protect him at thest minute. It''s not just for the sake of justice, but also to prevent any unforeseen situation... ... ."

    "Enough! That coward deserves to die, he''s not worthy of pity!"

    Ahun pped Vikir''s hand away and turned away once more.

    Just then.

    Ku-oh-oh-oh!

    Something happened.

    All over the grounds, strange currents of mana began to form.

    Crackle, crackle, crackle!

    The sound of bones interlocking, and the corpses of the orangutans that had been struck by Oxbear''s front paws earlier began to rise again.

    They shed their heavy garments of rotting flesh and picked up their skeletal bodies.

    Bk''s warriors cringed at the sight of the dead.

    The orangutan corpses soon moved like strung marites, walking over to help Ahheman to his feet.

    Then. He raised his bloodshot eyes to look at Vikir, to Ahun beside him, and to all of Bk''s warriors beyond.

    " ... I don''t need you. All of you."

    Ahheman gave up. He wasn''t talking about the Iliad.

    He meant giving up everything he had as a warrior of Bk.

    And.

    As soon as one Bk was gone, one Rococo was born.

    As soon as he abandoned his warrior''s pride, Ahheman began to practice a part ofmand that had been taboo, even practiced within the Rococo itself.

    A forbidden incantation to call the dead back to thend of the living.

    When the Bk warriors heard him recite the incantation, they gave him a look of disdain.

    "What is this, another one of your stupid resurrection spells?"

    "How ugly. Even though you im to be a shaman,...."

    "But what can we do, we don''t even have monkeys to resurrect anymore!"

    There are no more dead bodies in this neighborhood.

    At most, a few orangutans here were the only dead that Ahheman could raise.

    But.

    "...!"

    Vikir snapped.

    He realized that Ahheman''s spell was not directed here, but a little further away.

    Vikir turned his head to follow the direction of the ck mana stream.

    There he saw a familiar ce.

    A valley and waterfall rising high above the low rolling hills, and a spring of dragon''s water flowing beneath it.

    It was the Tomb of the Brave, where all of Bk''s ancestors were said to be buried.

 Chapter 90: The Ghosts of the Ancestors (2)

    <h4>Chapter 90: The Ghosts of the Ancestors (2)</h4>

    Goo Wook... Goo Kook...

    The orangutan corpses began to move.

    Although they had only been dead for a short time, their skin was already turning to mush and decaying, revealing hollow bones here and there.

    In fact, all living thingse from nature and return to nature, meaning that their bodies belong to nature.

    Coming from nature and returning to nature is a great providence, a kind of contract to be recognized as a member of the ecosystem.

    However.

    There are some beings who, after the end of their lives and the time period in which they were given a body, do not return it to nature.

    The undead.

    They don''t return to nature, even though they came from it by nature.

    They are like tenants in a house that is already on a contract.

    The ghosts are forcibly upying a body that, ording to providence and the contract of life, should have been returned to nature.

    Therefore, nature takes action to reim the body.

    As thew of nature dictates, all things return to the earth.

    In order to reim the body from the wraith, nature speeds up the decay of the flesh, so that the undead are always left with nothing but rotting flesh, stinking guts, and hollow bones.

    This is why most undead are rotting or skeletal.

    ... but.

    asionally, wraiths who possessed noble powers in life were able to resist thews of nature with even greater strength.

    They defy thews of nature with bodies and strength that are not nearly as damaged as they were when they were alive.

    Woodchuck! Woodchuck! Woodchuck! Woodchuck!

    Such were the undead that were now crawling out of the valiant''s grave.

    "...This is unbelievable!"

    Aiyen''s mouth dropped open.

    Crawling out of the stone and dirt tombs in the valley, they were skeletons, skinny and dry.

    They wore shrouds made of ck panther pelts, and their eyes glowed with the ck emptiness of skeletons.

    They were once, long ago, great warriors and leaders of the Bk.

    Carrying bows, spears, swords, axes... and their buried loved ones, the undead have risen to the surface and are swarming this way in unison.

    <Death Knight>

    Danger Rating : A ~ S

    Size : ?

    Found in : ?

    -Named ''Death Knight''.

    A corrupted and transformed being who once touched the heights of the living, the dark mana they draw from their souls and bodies is held as coteral until every muscle and vein in their bodies bursts.

    Most lose their sanity and spew empty hatred and blind rage.

    However, sometimes there are death knights with intelligence, but it is said that there are only seven cases in human history where such objects have appeared.

    Usually, Death Knights are fierce and aggressive, and topensate for this, they are often equipped with thick, heavy armor.

    But the resurrected ancestors of Bk were approaching with the speed of the wind, wearing nothing but a fluttering robe on the dark currents.

    Answering the maddening hatred that Ahheman was spewing.

    Then, Chief Aqu spoke.

    "All, prepare for battle!"

    As soon as the words left, Aiyen drew his bow and fired.

    Aiming for Ahheman, who struggled on the ground.

    But one of the Death Knights, running at breakneck speed, fired an arrow before he could.

    Puff, puff, puff!

    Arrows of tremendous power flew out and began to escort Ahheman.

    "Heh-heh heh! die all! All gone!"

    Hiding behind the Death Knights, Ahheman was rapidly aging.

    He had stretched his life force beyond its limits, manipting the Death Knights.

    Soon, the skeletal, faceless Deathknights stood in the way of Bk''s warriors with swords and spears.

    The warriors of Bk face the past and the present at once.

    The warriors of the Old Era and the warriors of the New Era face off against each other.

    "The time hase to teach the heroes of the past a lesson. How scary the kids are these days!"

    Aiyen fired the first arrow.

    Ping-!

    Her arrow was filled with a powerful silver aura.

    However, to her surprise, the Death Knight in front of her grabbed the arrow with his hand.

    ...Crisp!

    The arrow was blocked, but there was no way he could have gotten away with holding it with his bare hands.

    The Death Knight shook his head as he watched the hand that held the arrow turn to dust and crumble.

    Perhaps when he was alive, he would have had no trouble catching it.

    But now, weakened as he was by decay, he would not have been able to adapt to his deteriorated body.

    Then.

    Boom!

    The Death Knight behind him swung his sword.

    A sharp blow flew out, slicing through everything in its path.

    The speed was faster than expected, causing Aiyen to panic.

    ...Boom!

    There was someone who deflected the Death Knight''s blow. It was Vikir.

    And now.

    Vikir scattered his hands towards the two charging Death Knights.

    A moment. A white powder flew from Vikir''s hands andnded in the faces of the Death Knights.

    Chiiiit!

    Smoke billowed out, apanied by the sound of burning leather.

    The Death Knights grimaced in pain and stepped back.

    "Be careful. Each one is a named demon."

    Aiyen giggled at Vikir''s advice.

    She bent at the waist and stuck her ass out as far as it would go, patting Vikir''s thigh.

    "After all, you are the only man I can trust with my back."

    "...."

    "Oh, of course, I''m asking you to cover my rear in battle. I hope you don''t misunderstand."

    Aiyen is amused by Vikir''s reaction, even in such a desperate moment.

    But in all fairness, now was not the time for yful teasing.

    The Death Knights were flying, their attacks growing stronger and sharper.

    Aiyen''s expression hardened.

    "Vikir, how did you do that?"

    He was asking how Vikir had chased away two Death Knights just a moment ago.

    Vikir answered easily.

    "Salt. The undead are weak to salt."

    He was right. There''s no better way to cleanse the unholy than with salt.

    Vikir picked up a handful of salt, whichy like white sand on the banks of a cascading river outside the battlefield of the Iliad, and sprinkled it on the Death Knight.

    Soon, the white salt burned ck and made a loud crackling sound.

    Deathknight jumped back as the salt touched his body, and that was just in time to counterattack.

    ...Puff!

    Vikir grabbed the Death Knight''s back as he flinched from the salt, and promptly punctured his temple with Beelzebub.

    Then the Bk warriors, who had been struggling to hold the Death Knights at bay, found a way through.

    "Salt! Salt!"

    "Everyone, imitate Vikir!"

    "It''s true! It''s working!"

    Still, the Bk warriors were reluctant to wound their ancestors.

    They sprinkled the river''s salts with minimal contact, hoping to avoid hand-to-handbat while still honoring their ancestors.

    Moreover, as Ahheman''s Turning Point reached its climax, the Death Knights began to be picked off one by one.

    Chief Aqu sneered.

    "Your ancestors were not meant to be manipted by the Necrons."

    His mockery was directed at the dying Ahheman.

    The moment.

    "Kuhhhhh... ... Yes, quality rather than quantity."

    Ahhemanughed grimly.

    He smeared his face with his own blood, drawing intricate lines of incantation. He began to draw upon his life force, drawing upon it beyond life itself.

    Even his soul would struggle in agony for eons after death.

    But nevertheless, Ahheman was forced to use this forbidden spell.

    ...thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud!

    One by one, the Death Knights around him began to fall apart.

    But despite this, Ahheman kept his eyes closed and kept muttering something.

    "...I found it! I found it! I found it! Hey in the depths of the abyss, alone and without a grave! Oh, yes, He really was there!"

    Dark mana swirled wildly around him.

    The other warriors of Bk could barely keep their bnce in the midst of it all.

    "...It is time to end it all."

    The night fox, the chieftain, Aquman, stood tall and red at Ahheman.

    Then her arrow struck him in the forehead.

    Pow!

    A single silver arrow shot through the dark storm.

    It seemed self-evident that in a matter of seconds, it would blow a gaping hole in his skull.

    But.

    Kwagik-.

    To his horror, Aqu''s arrow stopped midway.

    Aqu''s arrow, the unstoppable force in the current depht, had been caught by someone else''s hand.

    "...!?"

    All of Bk''s warriors looked up in astonishment.

    It was anky man who caught the arrow with his bare hands.

    A man dressed in a raggedy shroud.

    His face was skeletal and leathery, his lips missing, leaving his gums and teeth exposed.

    The shroud fluttered in the breeze, woven in a style from a long, long time ago.

    Thick strong bones, tall stature, and the power to catch Aqu''s arrows with her bare hands.

    No one had ever guessed the identity of this long-ago ancestor.

    Only one. Except for Aqu.

    "...!"

    Aqu turned her trembling gaze to the undead orb before her.

    She had heard the legends of all the great chieftains and heroes of Bk since she was a child.

    She''d always thought she could do that.

    Blessed potential, endless possibilities, a once-in-a-century talent.

    Aqu was actually considered one of the most capable chieftains of all time, so he had no qualms aboutparing himself to the legendary warriors of old.

    ...except for one person.

    A hero who had single-handedly dered war on the Empire, who had won derations of surrender, who had subjugated all the tribes of the Depht, who had led Bk to his greatest heights, and in the face of all these immense aplishments, even the arrogant Aqu could only sincerely admire.

    The eternal myth of the Bk, a spiritual being.

    Adonai, the greatest archer since history began to be written.

 Chapter 91: The Ghosts of the Ancestors (3)

    <h4>Chapter 91: The Ghosts of the Ancestors (3)</h4>

    A Bk hero who fought the Empire as a single man.

    A mythical being who struck fear into the hearts of even the Empire''s greatest Swordmasters, unleashing a fury across the continent. The Bowmaster, the most powerful archer who ever lived.

    She is Adonai.

    Ever since the history of Bk began to be written down, Adonai, the archer who was known to be the strongest, appeared in front of Aqu, who was far from learning.

    Short gray hair, parched skin on his face, sagging lips and clearly visible teeth.

    Every time the ck shroud covering the whole body swayed in a ck aura, therge bow slung on the back was revealed.

    It was a bowstring with a very pointed tip and emitted a very ck color.

    It had a strange appearance, like two legs of an insect that had been bent and connected.

    "...."

    Vikir stood still, staring at the Adonai before him.

    It had been a long time since he''d been this close to a Master-level being, a being that touched the heights of the Supreme.

    The power emanating from Adonai was as wild and vicious as Hugo Baskerville''s.

    Perhaps because he is a Death Knight, it feels even more so.

    "... Author is Adonai the Archer.

    Terror of the empire, hero of the barbarians.

    It was a strange feeling to see a figure I''d only heard about in jungle mythology.

    But my wonder was short-lived.

    The next moment, Adonai raised his great ck bow.

    There were no strings or arrows on the bow.

    But as Adonai grasped the air with the opposite hand from the one that held the bow, a cool current of air formed a thin thread from tip to tip of the bow.

    It''s like a spider spinning a thread.

    Sssssss...

    To Adonai''s surprise, the ck air currents connected pole to pole of the bow.

    Adonai snapped his fingers once, then released them.

    Then, an arrow made of aura was created and nocked on the bowstring, which was also made of aura.

    Quack!

    Adonai pulled and released the bowstring, and an arrow of dark aura shot out.

    "...!"

    Vikir narrowed his eyes.

    The speed was so fast that even Vikir, a Advance Graduator, couldn''t see properly!

    It was only through half instinct and half luck that Vikir was able to deflect the arrow by extending the Beelzebub on his wrist as far as it would go.

    Boom!

    Adonai''s arrow flew on a trajectory deflected by Vikir''s sword, and it punched a hole in a huge log.

    Crunch! Quack!

    Not only is the log pierced, but the cliffside rocks behind it crumble with a thunderous crash.

    It was a sight to behold, as if they had been scattered by countless des.

    Adonai''s arrows are monstrous creatures that devastate their surroundings with just a nce.

    It would be unimaginable to face them head-on.

    "...Hmm."

    Vikir furrowed his brow and drooled.

    Despite the obvious deflection, his wrist was stiff and his arm tingled.

    Beyond the torn muscles in his forearm, he must have cracked his wrist bone.

    The liquid aura on Beelzebub was also torn to shreds.

    Adonai''s aura bolts have the density of extremely hard solids, the realm of a master.

    No wonder it couldn''t be defeated by a Graduator-ss liquid aura.

    Even.

    Tsutsutsutsuts...

    The log sniped by Adonai''s aura began to wither and die.

    The poison was strong enough to kill a giant tree that could have lived for hundreds of years in an instant.

    Vikir''s attention was drawn once more to therge ck bow that Adonai held.

    At first nce, it looks impossiblyrge and long, but it is solid and light, almost weightless.

    Pointed at both ends and sprouting horn-like spikes in the middle, it looked like two insect legs glued together.

    Vikir realized its identity at a nce.

    "... The remains of Madame Eight-Legged.

    When I met Madame Eight Legs the other day, I confirmed that all eight legs were attached, so it was probably made from fragments of her body before shedding her skin.

    This reminded me of something Aiyen had once said.

    "''Adonai was the only one who could stand toe-to-toe with the Madame of the Eight Legs. Now that you are a young Bk, honor him. And pride in being her descendant.''

    Adonai remembered that in the past, he had dueled Madame Eight-Legged and won.

    The bow was made from her ruins, and her vile poisonous aura was imbued into the bow itself.

    The fearsome ck bow must have retained its poisonous power long after Adonai died and was buried with her.

    "I''m in trouble."

    Vikir clicked his tongue.

    He was up against a Swordmaster, or perhaps even a more difficult Bowmaster.

    The Death Knight''s w is that he attacks recklessly and haphazardly, which in close quarters can leave him open and vulnerable, but....

    Poof! Pow! Quack quack quack!

    In a long-distance fight, it bes a unified offense.

    Adonai fired off a series of aura arrows.

    Dark solid auras, even poisonous ones.

    They tore through Vikir''s ck liquid aura, tearing it to shreds.

    Vikir loaded his aura onto Beelzebub and swung it long.

    Baskerville Carnivore.

    Six fangs drew a ckened trail of blood, but even so, it was pushed back.

    Even a warrior of the Graduator''s rank would be powerless against a master.

    A liquid cannot defeat a solid.

    However, the reason Vikir was still alive was due to the protection of the Styx River, the strength and mana regeneration of his body, and the power of the monster that the magic sword Beelzebub was sealing.

    "...! ...! ...!"

    Vikir had gained weight with Oxbear''s sacroiliac spell, which allowed him to withstand Adonai''s arrows without being knocked back.

    But even the six ambush hits from the Baskervilles are not enough to stop Adonai''s arrow showers.

    Each of Adonai''s arrows was stronger, harder, and more numerous than each of Vikir''s teeth.

    What''s more, the aura of her bowstring and arrows never wore out or dropped.

    Adonai was simply unleashing an endless barrage of the overflowing negative dimensional energy characteristic of Death Knights.

    Boom! Crackle! Puck! Puck!

    Deciding that a head-to-head battle was out of the question, Vikir swung his de sideways to deflect the arrows, but was nheless gradually being pushed backward.

    Therge mana reservoirs of the Graduator were already running low.

    The aura radiating from Beelzebub was popping like honey from a hammer whenever it came into contact with Adonai''s aura.

    Even his shaking wrists told him that he was at his limit.

    There were many bad news reportsing from all over the body.

    ''... At this rate, I''ll be an arrow in the quiver.

    Vikir tried to move quickly to get out of the way, but Adonai was faster than Vikir,.

    Closing the distance would be impossible as the arrows would fly like crazy, and opening the distance would be suicide against a Bowmaster level archer.

    A sneak attack might have worked, but there''s no way to win a head-to-head fight.

    Of course, I don''t mean how to win, but how to survive.

    ''...I need to kill at least Ahheman.''

    But with Adonai standing firmly in his way, that was impossible.

    All the warriors of Bk fired arrows in unison, but they were all blocked by Adonai''s shroud and the body of the ck bow.

    Just as Vikir was in the midst of thinking.

    ...Puck!

    There was a kick to Vikir''s cheek.

    "ve, to the side!"

    Aiyen stretched out her long legs and shoved Vikir''s head away.

    Pow!

    A ck sh of light flew in a ck trajectory to the ce where Vikir''s head was just a moment ago.

    ...PIT!

    A long, thin gash appears on Aiyen''s calf.

    Meanwhile, Vikir wiped the blood from his forehead and said.

    "Thank you. Better to die of a concussion than an arrow."

    "No time to ck off, here theye again!"

    Aiyen reached out and grabbed Vikir by the nape of his neck.

    An arrow of ck aura struck the ground where Vikir''s groin had been just moments before, tearing a deep hole.

    "...You''re aiming for the groin, too. So much for the rush of the male."

    Vikir smirked at Aiyen''s narrowed eyes.

    "''Not so fast. To the great Adonai."

    "For now, you''re just Ahheman''s puppet. After you have attained perfection."

    Aiyen quickly fed arrows into his bow.

    A dozen arrows flew at breakneck speed, aimed at Adonai.

    Then they broke off into different trajectories, each aimed at a different part of Adonai''s body.

    But.

    Puff-puff-puff-puff-puff-puff!

    With a flick of his hand, Adonai caught all ten arrowsing from ten different directions.

    Woof!

    As if that wasn''t enough, he clenched his fist tightly, breaking all ten of the arrows and causing them to shatter.

    "...Your hands must be big."

    Aiyen gritted her teeth as she saw the arrow fragments falling to the ground behind her.

    Then, Adonai raised his ck bow.

    The bull''s-eye was clear. Vikir and Aiyen in front of him.

    Boom!

    With a sound like a cannonball being fired, a sharp vortex shot out of Adonai''s ck bow.

    It sliced through the air around them like a whirling de.

    Destruction and speed, unavoidable and unstoppable! Vikir and Aiyen prepared for battle.

    Then.

    Boom!

    Someone deflected Adonai''s dark power st with their bare hands.

    Kwagigik! Boom!

    The frantically spinning de aura was shattered by pure force.

    Adonai''s aura arrows turned into ck air currents and scattered.

    "...!"

    Vikir and Aiyen looked up, wide-eyed, at the being that stood before them.

    A warrior, dripping with blood from his torn grip, yet standing without missing a beat.

    Chieftain Aqu. Fox of the Night.

    She stood here as the representative of the new generation against the representative of the old.

 Chapter 92: The Ghosts of the Ancestors (4)

    <h4>Chapter 92: The Ghosts of the Ancestors (4)</h4>

    Each of Adonai''s arrows was a terrifying weapon.

    But there was a hand that caught them and crushed them.

    "Stay back."

    Aqu stepped forward, blocking Vikir and Aiyen.

    She had sent the eight Deathknights that stood in her way back to the grave where they belonged, and now she was about to face Adonai, the final pinnacle, the supreme of the Bk.

    Adonai, the leader of the Old Age, and Aqu, the leader of the New Era.

    These two twin pinnacles, each at the pinnacle of archery, now faced each other in a timeless confrontation.

    Vikir swallowed a dry saliva.

    A battle between two absolute powers, master-level aura users who touch the realm of the Supreme, is not something you see every day.

    Even in the Age of Destruction, where the heavens and earth were turned upside down on a daily basis, a battle of this magnitude was notmon.

    "...What will happen?"

    "It''s not even worth asking."

    Aiyen beside him answered Vikir''s question.

    She opened her mouth with a determined expression.

    "My mom never loses."

    Aiyen''s words exuded confidence.

    But the reality was beginning to show otherwise.

    Kararak-

    Aqu raised her great bow and pointed it straight ahead.

    The thick bowstring was pulled back under tremendous tension, and a powerful arrow was fired.

    Boom!

    Aqu shot at Adonai with a silver aura.

    The solid aura flew like an arrow made of silver, piercing through the ck aura emanating from Adonai''s body.

    [....]

    Adonai immediately counterattacked.

    Hisbat instincts were so sharp that they were firmly embedded in his deceased body.

    ...Boom!

    The ck aura emanating from Adonai''s body exploded like steam.

    The earth around him cracked, sulfurous gas billowing out of the cracks, and the ck aura emanating from Adonai''s body was ck with sulfur, as if it were the mes of hell.

    They ascended into the heavens in a maelstrom, and soon the vast expanse of sky was shrouded in dark clouds.

    Toward these dark clouds, Aqu unleashed a barrage of silver shes.

    Silver shes and ck trajectories ferociously devouring each other.

    It was so fast that even Aiyen, a novice Graduator, and Vikir, an advanced Graduator, could barely keep up with it.

    "''Aqu, the speed of your bow rivals that of Adonai."

    "My mother''s archery skills are world-ss, and I don''t just mean in terms of uracy."

    Quite literally, these two living myths were giving future generations of warriors a real lesson.

    Aqu and Adonai''sbat is one of precision.

    The basics of anticipating your opponent''s movements and cing your arrows on a predictable path, while more advanced techniques such as spinning shots that take advantage of the air currents in which your opponent''s arrows are flying, and parabolic shots that cause arrows to shoot out of nowhere from above or to the side, are effortlessly executed.

    ...BANG!

    As Aqu ducked her head, a ck arrow flew out and snapped the back of a log behind her.

    ...Boom!

    As soon as Adonai leapt upward, a silver arrow embedded itself in the sandbar he was standing on, sending a tsunami of sand in all directions.

    An all-out battle of attrition.

    ... But as time passed, it was Aqu who was losing ground.

    Spot!

    An arrow from Adonai grazes Aqu''s side. The ck arrows were slowly, steadily squeezing the air out of Aqu''s lungs.

    But it wasn''t a matter of skill.

    It''s because Aqu needs the limited tools of arrows, and Adonai doesn''t.

    Sometimes, like Adonai, Aqu would simply concentrate her aura and send it out without an arrow, but it was so mana-draining that she couldn''t use it except in a moment of great urgency.

    Adonai, on the other hand, thanks to the negative energy he draws from Hell, can shoot out solid aura arrows of 100% purity.

    Even.

    "...Even the direction of the wind is unfavorable."

    Vikir frowned.

    Adonai had his back to the wind, and Aqu was facing it head-on.

    The winds of the jungle seemed to be favoring Adonai''s arrows, giving them more power, while Aqu''s arrows were halved in power.

    The difference is bing increasingly visible in Aqu''s body, which is bing increasingly covered in scars.

    Even Adonai''s sniper shots were imbued with the poison of Madame Eight-Legged!

    Tsutsutsutsuts...

    The wounds on Aqu''s body turned ck.

    Herplexion was growing pale in contrast.

    Ping-ping-ping-ping

    Moreover, the arrows that Aqu had sent out had suddenly begun to go in apletely strange direction.

    The wind wrapped around her arrows and sent them flying in different directions, never reaching Adonai.

    It was as if the entire jungle was protecting Adonai. Was he really a jungle god?

    Bikir wondered. What could he do to reverse the odds?

    At this rate, Aqu would lose, and all of Bk''s warriors would be swept away by the Death Knight hordes.

    " ... Should we kill Ahheman first?

    Yes, but to do so would require prating Adonai''s iron wall, which stands unmoving in ce.

    What''s more, Ahheman had not withdrawn all of his Deathknights, but was instead focusing his efforts on controlling several Named-ss Deathknights, including Adonai.

    Bk''s warriors are struggling against other Death Knights who are only slightly deterred by the sprinkling of salt, but not at all deterred.

    "Someone needs to go get the rest of the warriors in town! At this rate, we''re going to...!"

    Vikir shouts urgently.

    Aiyen mped a hand over his mouth.

    "Shhh. We''re almost there."

    "...?"

    Vikir''s eyes narrowed.

    Aqu was getting tired, her arrows flying in strange directions with the headwind.

    Adonai, on the other hand, still going strong.

    Where in the world did she think she was winning?

    But Aiyen, who is a better archer than Vikir, seems to see something else.

    Aiyen. She''s watching in awe as Aqu performs a miracle.

    "I see it. I do. I see what my mother is seeing."

    "...?"

    Vikir could only shake her head.

    Then.

    It happened suddenly.

    ...Boom!

    A mysterious arrow flew out and lodged in the center of Adonai''s back.

    A single, authentic arrow twitched.

    It came from an unexpected direction, from behind, not from below, not from thetitude, not from the side.

    [...?]

    Adonai paused for a moment, surely there could only be one person behind him, Ahhe?

    But.

    Pfft!

    Another arrow flew right back at him, hitting him in the back of the head.

    And then another.

    -Beep, beep, beep!

    A huge number of arrows began to fly in from behind.

    "Ugh!"

    Ahheman ttened himself like a bug on the ground.

    Several of the arrows flying from behind tore into his backside.

    "...!"

    Vikir looked up, his mouth half open.

    Only now did he see the identity of the arrowsing from behind.

    They were the blind arrows Aqu had been shooting at him a moment ago!

    Pipipiping!

    Another hail of arrows from behind. Still aimed at Adonai''s back!

    Whizz, whizz, whizz-!

    The fierce wind was carrying Aqu''s arrows back to Adonai.

    Only then did Vikir realize the cause of the anomaly.

    Aqu''s arrows weren''t flying in the wrong direction.

    They seemed to have taken a wrong turn, only to surge upward in a whirlwind that raged across the jungle, only to spin around in a full circle and return to where they came from.

    Like salmon running up a waterfall back to the ce where they were born.

    To the center of the ck vortex that Adonai is creating, to where the wind begins!

    ...Puck! ...Puck! Quack!

    Adonai''s exposed back was instantly transformed into a hedgehog.

    After bouncing twice in the wind, the arrow became even more powerful than when it was originally released and struck its target.

    Aqu''s arrows, which could pierce rocks and logs, didn''tpletely prate Adonai''s powerful body, but they still managed to make a good dent.

    Boom!

    Another arrownded on top of the one in Adonai''s thigh.

    Only then did it manage to pierce Adonai''s thigh, causing him to stagger and fall to his knees on the ground.

    Aqu looked up, hisplexion weary.

    "Great Ancestor, if you were still alive and in good spirits, you would not have made such a simple mistake. It saddens me."

    Aqu sent thest arrow flying toward the crippled Adonai.

    A blind arrow struck him in the back and a sighted arrow in the front.

    Adonai was unable to dodge Aqu''s final shot.

    Pfft!

    An arrow halfway to the back of his head and another halfway to his forehead.

    ...Boom!

    The two arrowheads meet at a single point.

    Thud-!

    Adonai fell to his knees.

    The legend of a previous generation bowed before the myth of a new era.

    "...."

    Aqu looked at Adonai, kneeling before him, head bowed.

    It didn''t really feel like a victory.

    Aqu was at the peak of his powers now, and the Adonai he had just faced had already died of old age and was no longer in the process of being resurrected from the dead.

    Moreover, he was a corpse,cking even basic intelligence, let alone a living mind, so it was hardly a proper match.

    "If only Adonai had had the strength of his prime....

    Aqu shook her head. She could only imagine the horrible consequences.

    Then.

    "Kaaaaaah!"

    A muffled scream.

    Ahheman was struggling with Adonai''s corpse.

    The battle was lost, as the Death Knight made from Adonai''s corpse had fallen.

    The few remaining Deathknights gathered around Ahheman, and a far greater number of Bk warriors surrounded him.

    "Now die."

    Aiyen res at Ahheman with disdain.

    But.

    Ahheman''s gamble was not yet over.

    He has lost almost all of his life and mana, and is crippled from the waist down, but he still hasn''t let go of his will to live.

    "Don''te!"

    Ahheman gathered Adonai''s body and the bodies of the other ancestors together.

    He grabbed a handful of blood from his hands and mouth.

    "If youe near, your ancestors will be tainted with my blood!"

    Ahheman''s threat made everyone, including Aqu, pause for a moment.

    Superstition held that a soul tainted with the blood of a traitor would be unable to enter the warrior''s paradise.

    In his final moments, Ahriman had relied on this small superstition to ckmail the others.

    At this rate, the souls of the warriors would never be able to go to paradise, not to mention they would have been tricked by him.

    The fact that he was so skilled in witchcraft made the situation even more dire.

    "...."

    Aqu raised his bow, but Ahriman was cunningly hiding behind the bodies of his ancestors.

    Thus, all the warriors were unable to act rashly.

    For if they did, they might not be able to honor their ancestors forever.

    Just then.

    "Stand down, everyone."

    Vikir''s voice rang out.

    All eyes turned to see Vikir raising his bow and aiming an arrow.

    However, the arrow was pointed in the wrong direction.

    "...What are you going to do?"

    Even Aqu, who had just used the wind to make an unbelievable hit, looked confused.

    But. Vikir was confident.

    "Climb to a higher ce first."

    That was Vikir''sst piece of advice.

    At the same time.

    PING-!

    The arrow from Vikir''s bow flew in a parabolic arc.

    It struck where the logs were stacked on top of each other, the knot of vines holding them together.

    ...Pow!

    Vikir''s arrow snaps, and the vine falls to the ground.

    And then.

    Grrrrr �C snap �C snap �C snap.

    As the vines snapped one by one, the heavy logs began to move in unison.

    When the wooden barrier dam, which was held in ce by vines, copses, the things on the other side spill out.

    Chhhhhhh.

    It was a river that swelled during the long rainy season, the waves of a salt river full of melted white salt!

 Chapter 93: The Ghosts of the Ancestors (5)

    <h4>Chapter 93: The Ghosts of the Ancestors (5)</h4>

    ...Boom!

    With a loud boom, the dam that held back the water burst.

    The wooden boards copsed and the river began to flood on a massive scale.

    "Everyone up in the trees!"

    Fortunately, Aiyen was quick to react, and there were few casualties in Bk.

    As the river swept ferociously over everything, Bk''s warriors climbed high into the trees to avoid it.

    Those who were too slow to climb the trees managed to hold on to sturdy rocks and ride out the waves.

    But. the Death Knights, standing in the distance, were unable to avoid the wave.

    Crash! Crash!

    The rushing water swept the Death Knights away in one fell swoop.

    Of course, the Death Knights were strong enough to withstand the waves, but the problem... wasn''t the waves themselves.

    Tsutsutsutsutsutsutsuts...

    The bodies of the Death Knights gradually turned to ck vapor and began to disperse.

    This was because the river water that was now flooding was a concentrated salt water.

    By nature, the undead are weak to salt, which has the power to purify the unholy.

    These salt rivers have long been home to saltwater fish, and even salt that is dissolved in water is effective against the undead.

    The Death Knights resisted the salt, but they could not withstand such an overwhelming force.

    Sanctification.

    One by one, the bodies crumble to dust.

    The bodies of their ancestors, returning to where they belonged, swept away by the flowing waters and scattered across the floodednd where they had been born and raised.

    "...."

    Aqu swallowed hard at the sight of Adonai''s flesh dissolving in the salt water and being swept away.

    It was unfortunate that the remains of her distant ancestors could not be properly recovered, but she was d that the unholy energy had been cleansed.

    Most of all, I am d that the noble bodies of my ancestors were not spattered with the disgusting blood of Ahheman.

    ...And now.

    The water level subsided.

    It was the end of the rainy season, and the waters were no longer overflowing.

    Bk''s warriors descended to the bottom as the water receded.

    The water was still up to their ankles, but it didn''t interfere with their ability to walk on the ground.

    Vikir followed suit as soon as the water level dropped.

    Pow! ...pow! ...pow!

    With each step, the water rises to his ankles and the wispy grass tickles between his toes.

    In the stagnant pools at the bottom, catfish and eels trapped by the current iled and gasped for air.

    Then.

    Vikir spotted something.

    An object, silently submerged in the water, wafting an eerie aura above the surface.

    "Is that ...?"

    It was arge bow.

    Dark matte. Horns and thorns sprouting like teeth.

    This ck bow, without even a bowstring, must have been held by Adonai just a moment ago.

    A weapon made from the carapace of a Madame Eight-Legged. At first nce, it was an unusual weapon.

    Vikir picked it up and handed it to Aiyen beside him.

    "...."

    Aiyen took it and cradled it in her arms. Then he ran to hand it to Aqu, who stood in the distance.

    Meanwhile.

    Bk''s warriors were converging on a single location.

    They were heading for a single thorny tree that stood tall in the middle of a wide open in.

    It stood alone, with no otherrge trees around, and its trunk was densely covered with countless thorns.

    The warriors of Bk stood in a circle around the tree, and in unison they looked up.

    Above them, they saw a familiar figure.

    "Ugh... Ugh...."

    This tenacious old man was hanging on, unable to be swept away by the rising waters of the river.

    Just before the water washed over him, he climbed this thorny tree, scraping the ground with his hands and dragging his motionless lower half.

    What could have led him to this harrowing path of suras?

    The sides of the thorns were sharp as des, and their tips were pointed like spears.

    "Turn it off... ... Ahhh... ... "

    Ahheman reached out a trembling hand and grabbed them.

    He couldn''t even pick out the rtively blunt thorns in the mad rush of water.

    He just had to grab whatever he could get his hands on.

    The backs of his hands were punctured, his fingers were zigzagging and tattered, and his knuckles were falling off.

    Needless to say, it wasn''t just his hands.

    The whole body was covered in thorns, cuts, and tears.

    His flesh was torn like rags, and his body was dripping with blood.

    Salt water and debris filled the gaping wounds, causing hellish pain.

    His guts were already disintegrating from being used by high-level Death Knights who were out of their capabilities.

    But despite this, the old shaman was still alive.

    He continued to reach out and climb the thorns, seemingly frightened, or perhaps even dazed.

    He looked as if he had aged decades.

    "Sa, save me... please save me...."

    As he desperately moved his hands to climb the branches, bits of flesh and guts were dripping down the tree trunk with blood.

    The tree turning more and more gray.

    Vikir stared at it, lost in thought.

    "...."

    Ah, well, in retrospect, he was certainly a remarkable man.

    He had raised the mythical Adonai of Bk from the undead, even though all his life force was gone, and he had managed to wield several other Death Knights simultaneously.

    ''Perhaps if he had only devoted himself to magic, he would have been at the level of Adolph, the Madman of Morg.''

    However, it was a pity that he had awkwardly imitated a warrior to match Bk''s emotions.

    Even with a ck magic skill of more than six circles, he was still ying the part of a warrior.

    But it proved how eager he was to blend into the atmosphere of Bk.

    Vikir turned his gaze back to Ahheman.

    He climbed the thorns in terror, bleeding.

    The sight of him suddenly brings back memories of when he first came to Bk''s vige two years ago.

    The prisoners of war climbing the thorns and the mes burning beneath them.

    Those condemned to the thorn tree were forced to climb it naked, their bodies covered in blood.

    They fell to their deaths at the base of the tree, bleeding to death or dying of burns.

    Among the dead were men of the house of Baskerville and men of the house of Morg.

    It is especially memorable that in theirst moments, they kept their mouths shut, even though their eyes met Vikir''s.

    "...."

    Vikir bowed his head in silence for a moment, then raised it again and looked up at the reddened thorns.

    He had heard that it was Ahheman who had devised this horrible punishment, and now he was meeting his end by a brutal torture of his own making.

    In other words, the real enemy of Ahheman was Ahheman himself.

    Then.

    "...I''ll finish it."

    There was a hand on Vikir''s shoulder.

    He turned to see Ahun standing there, his head bowed.

    "Please, let me."

    Was it the fact that he''d rejected Vikir''s words earlier that bothered him? Ahun looked into Vikir''s eyes and asked for a favor.

    When Vikir nodded, Ahun stepped forward.

    He struck a flint to create embers, and soon spread the oil and a little gunpowder he carried with him at the base of the thorn tree.

    Soon, a tiny ember rises and falls on the thorn.

    Crackle!

    The mes, flickering due to the moisture, soon spread upwards with astonishing speed.

    The wet wood burns and emits a great deal of smoke.

    Soon, scarlet mes shot up like spears, pursuing Ahheman.

    Crackle, crackle, crackle, crackle, crackle!

    The sound of burning wood is loud.

    The mes burned toward the top.

    The mes and smoke soon engulfed Ahheman, who hadnguished halfway up the thorns.

    No screams were heard.

    "...."

    The warriors of Bk watched the old shaman''s final moments with mixed expressions on their faces.

    Recalling the past seventy years, how they had cried andughed at his every word, every gesture.

    Crackle, crackle, crackle, crackle!

    The smell of burning meat is thick.

    The sound of sizzling fat was everywhere.

    Everyone was about to turn away.

    "Hee-hee-hee-hee!"

    Through the mes and ck smoke, something appeared.

    The warriors'' eyes widened in surprise. Even Aqu.

    There was a skeleton, burning brightly, screaming with open arms.

    "Ahhhhhh.

    No shaman, no warrior, born in the body of a Rococo and living in the mind of a Bk.

    A being whose flesh and the fat beneath it had already burned away.

    He shook his flesh, which was already more like charcoal than a body, and screamed at the world.

    "You will regret this! You''ll regret putting me out like this...! ...! ...!"

    The words he spat out after that were muffled.

    Not only had his tongue been cooked, but the smoke he''d inhaled had burned through his lungs.

    Ahheman floundered for several more seconds after that. Disintegrating into ck powder like the Death Knights he had summoned.

    He lifted his head and tried to see the town beyond the water in the distance.

    He couldn''t see much of anything through his me-cooked eyes.

    "...Go back."

    Chief Aqu ordered.

    The Bk warriors returned to the vige, their bodies soaked with saltwater and exhaustion.

    Vikir and Aiyen did the same, carrying each other slowly back to the vige.

    A friendly vige. A tribe that should be at peace now that its arch-enemy, Ahheman, is gone.

    ... But.

    When they returned to the vige, the warriors finally understood what Ahheman had warned them about.

    Why he hadughed so much in hisst moments, and why he had turned to look out over the vige.

 Chapter 94: Madame Eight Legs (1)

    <h4>Chapter 94: Madame Eight Legs (1)</h4>

    When Bk''s warriors, including Vikir, returned, they found their vige in terrible ruins.

    The tall trees on which the houses were built were broken and bent.

    Naturally, the house itself was also broken, lying low to the ground in a pool of water.

    Broken boards, wood chips, and other debris floated in the water.

    All of the floating houses that had been built for the rainy season had been destroyed.

    The warehouses where weapons, prisoners, and other tools were stored were also destroyed. All that was inside was left outside, useless.

    Only the food warehouses, where the dry goods were stored,y shattered and empty.

    " ... What is this?"

    Chieftain Aqu looked around in disbelief.

    There was no way the vige could have been destroyed like this without casualties.

    There were bodies floating around everywhere.

    Almost all of the warriors had gone to watch the Iliad, so those left in town were mostly children, the elderly, the sick and women who couldn''t fight.

    There was a minimal guard force left, but they, too, were mostly dead and lying around.

    "...."

    Vikir came to his senses faster than anyone else, and soon began to realize what had happened.

    The first thing that caught Vikir''s attention was the air.

    A foul, polluted aura hovered over the entire forest beyond Bk''s vige.

    Vikir followed the ominous scent with his hound''s keen sense of smell.

    Now there were signs of something more sinister.

    The muddy water was nearly up to his ankles, making it difficult to see, but when he dipped his hand under the water, he could feel the ugly scars on the ground.

    Deep scars in the ground. As if a giant log had once drummed and scraped across them.

    There were not one or two of these deep furrows under the water, but a veryplex and irregr pattern.

    ''... at least 80 centimeters wide. Maybe 3 meters long.

    What kind of creature could leave tracks this big in a flood?

    Vikir could name three or four suspects in his head.

    And he keeps finding clues that narrow it down even further.

    Goo...

    The mucus that hangs over his head.

    When Vikir tilted his head, it dripped down past his body and onto the surface.

    When he looked up, he saw the sticky, slime hanging like a thread from the half-copsed, tilted floating house.

    ck fur and ckened flesh clung to it with a disgusting odor.

    The wood around it was ckened and splintered where it had touched.

    It seemed to exude a powerful poison.

    Then.

    Boom, boom, boom, boom.

    A louse approached, breaking through the waters up to my ankles.

    Ahhhh. She appeared, gasping for air.

    She had managed to hide in a jar of spices during themotion, and as soon as she saw Vikir, she burst into tears and ran to embrace him.

    Vikir patted her back wordlessly, and Ahul sobbed into his neck.

    "Madam was here."

    At those words, all the warriors behind Vikir stood and froze.

    Madame Eight Legs! Terror of the water. The nightmare of enemies and ck Mountain.

    Why would she attack a Bk vige?

    To these questions, Ahul stretched out a finger and answered.

    "As soon as Madame reached the vige, she destroyed it from there, and then, as if she was taking out her anger on us..."

    She pointed to a tall building that was unusually badly broken. It was a house carved out of stone, perched high on a rocky outcropping.

    Ahheman''s temple.

    The moment she pointed to it, the warriors realized.

    "You will regret this! You will regret leaving me like this...! ...! ...!"

    Ahheman''sst words before he died, and the reason he chose to stare at the distant vige in his final moments.

    Vikir climbed up onto the rocky outcropping and searched through the rubble of a shattered stone building.

    It was the temple where Ahheman usually performed his rituals, and unlike the exterior, which was unusually badly damaged, the interior was rtively intact.

    Vikir pushed aside the rubble and peered inside.

    There was a strange assortment of herbs he didn''t recognize, burned to a crisp over time.

    The scorched remains of the herbs emitted a strange odor, and tiny insects the size of pinky fingernails swarmed around them, apparently intoxicated by the scent.

    Aiyen gritted his teeth.

    " It must be the grass that attracts bugs."

    "...."

    Vikir nodded.

    Ahheman had arranged for Madame Eight Legs toe here if he was away for an extended period of time.

    Normally, the fire is controlled so that the smell of the burning herbs doesn''t spread beyond a certain area, but when there''s no one to tend to it, the fire continues to burn the herbs and the strange odor spreads endlessly.

    Eventually, the smell is noticed by a madam who lives deep within the jungle.

    Ahun pounded his fist on the stone wall.

    "Damn it! You''ve arranged for everyone to die when you''re gone! You''re insane!"

    It''s a testament to Ahheman''s need for recognition within the Bk tribe.

    But his need for recognition was perverse and eventually led to terrible destruction.

    Ahun gained a deeper understanding of his grandfather, but also a stronger hatred for him.

    But it was toote.

    Bk''s vige was devastated and almost impossible to rebuild.

    The good news was that most of the poption had gone out to watch the Iliad, and of those who remained in town, most had gone out to gather berries and roots.

    This was due to Aiyen''s instructions.

    To prepare a feast for Vikir if he won the Iliad.

    Aqu clenched her fists so tightly that they bled.

    "The good news is that there were no casualties. We''ll just have to rebuild the vige and gather food. These are just floating houses that were hastily built for the rainy season anyway."

    Bk''s warriors worked diligently to collect the remains of the dead and rescue survivors still in hiding.

    Madame consoled herself with the fact that the damage had been so light as to be nothing short of a miracle, considering she had visited the vige herself.

    Meanwhile.

    "...."

    Ahun had his head down, deep in frustration.

    Vikir tapped him on the shoulder.

    Ahun looked back at Vikir and sobbed.

    "Vikir. I should have listened to you."

    He spoke with anger and understanding.

    "If only I had listened to you, when you asked me to finish off Ahheman, if only I had really listened to you..."

    " ... It''s not your fault."

    Vikir turned his head and spoke to all the warriors nearby.

    "The real fault lies with the Empire, or more precisely, the Baskervilles."

    At that, all the warriors turned their heads.

    They all knew that Vikir was originally from the Baskervilles, let alone that the Baskervilles were to me.

    But Vikir had no qualms about speaking.

    "The Baskervilles are to me for the reason that Madame has expanded her living quarters here, and for the reason that she raided Bk''s vige in a frenzy of hunger."

    The Baskervilles had been so aggressive in ying demons that Madame''s prey had be scarce, and she had expanded her hunting grounds.

    The natives of Bk were forced to move to the londs of the mountains to escape her hunger.

    Vikir pinpointed the hatred of the natives of Bk for the Empire.

    And the warriors of Bk took a strong liking to Vikir''s clear-eyed condemnation of the misdeeds of their former home.

    But there was one thing Vikir didn''t say.

    "It''s also because of a policy I set when I was in Baskerville."

    At the age of 8, Vikir presented a united front with Morgue and a grand subjugation n against the enemy and the ck Mountain.

    Of course, this was just Hugo''s pre-regression knowledge of the n that was already in ce, but it still gives Vikir some responsibility.

    So Vikir took this opportunity to repay the Bk warriors for their many favors.

    He had fully restored his health, gained strength away from Hugo''s watchful eye, gained ess to the skills of various magical creatures, learned the archery of the Bowmaster, learned and experienced firsthand the mysterious culture of unknown barbarians, mastered the art of tracking and stalking, and learned various survival skills in the jungle.

    What''s more, all the barbarian tribes of the Jungle havee to support Vikir, giving him great political influence.

    For all this, Vikir looked around for a way to repay them.

    Aqu, the Night Fox. The chieftain of the Bk, she was battered and bruised from the fierce war against Adonai.

    Aiyen had stepped forward to help Vikir, but a poisoned arrow in his leg had left him with an unnatural gait.

    Vikir said.

    "The warriors of Bk have never treated Madame poorly."

    Everyone turned to look at Vikir''s face.

    Vikir continued.

    "We even honored her just a week ago, and made offerings to her."

    Indeed. The Bk have always taken the best parts of their prey and offered them to the Madame''s domain.

    The same was true for prisoners of war.

    "But she raided ournds and killed innocent children, old men, and wolves."

    Bk''s warriors listened with bated breath.

    Finally, Vikir finished, his eyes glowing with dark blood.

    "I must now confront her and judge her."

 Chapter 95: Madame Eight Legs (2)

    <h4>Chapter 95: Madame Eight Legs (2)</h4>

    "Madame has made a mistake, and I will confront her."

    Vikir''sst words stunned all of Bk''s warriors.

    Not that they hadn''t thought about it.

    Innocent children, elders, patients,panions, and wolves had been killed, and they had lost buildings, food, and everything else they needed to survive.

    But even so, the warriors were skeptical of Bikir''s words.

    "Impossible. No brave warrior has ever been able to do that."

    "''Vikir. Even if you are the hero of the whole region, that''s a myth."

    "Madame Eight-Legged is the deity of these jungle. She is the evil one of the evil spirits."

    "The damage will eventually be repaired. The only way is to forget."

    For the first time, Bk''s warriors, who trusted Vikir with anything he said, shook their heads at his words.

    For such brave men to say such a thing gives one an idea of the extent of their fear of the Madame.

    Then.

    ...tee!

    Someone put a hand on Vikir''s shoulder.

    It was Chief Aqu, the Fox of the Night, staring at Vikir with a paleplexion.

    She had lost much of her usual overwhelming majesty.

    The one who had gone one-on-one with the Ancient One, the legendary Adonai, and sent him back to the dust.

    But Aqu, too, had suffered many wounds in the process.

    Countless arrow marks scratched his body, and even the poisonous venom of Madame Eight-Legged was too much for even a Master-level warrior to heal.

    "Vikir. Young hero of all the jungle and the sun just rising, do not be swayed by the heat of the moment. Where Madame is involved, extreme caution must be applied."

    Aiyen, beside him, agreed.

    "The Eight Legged Madame is a terror to all tribes, not just the Bk. She is a force of unstoppable causality and the essence of darkness. Her presence is like a natural disaster, and even if we harbor feelings of vengeance...."

    But Aiyen didn''t finish her sentence.

    [chuckles...]

    She saw a figure crawling through the rubble of the copsed building.

    Bakira. The wolf who had been born on the same day and time as Aiyen, and had been with him all his life.

    The one who had run to the vige to tell them of Bikir''s victory before the Iliad between Bikir and Ahriman.

    For a moment, Aiyen couldn''t help but think of hisst words to Bakira.

    "Go to the vige and tell them to prepare to wee the winner of the Iliad."

    Little did he know the consequences of that simple errand would be so terrible.

    [snicker... snicker...]

    Bakira crawled over, dragging his hind legs, and wiped his wet nose at Aiyen''s feet.

    One of her right hind legs was in terrible shape.

    Not only were all the bones broken, but a dark poison had seeped into the marrow.

    The reason for this was obvious. What else could it be but the result of resisting Madame Eight-Legged?

    The poison was still surging at this moment, and the situation was so serious that the leg had to be cut off.

    Aiyen looked at Bakira in disbelief.

    Bikir spoke briefly.

    "Will you still say that revenge is futile?"

    "...."

    Aiyen did not answer this time.

    Aqu nced between her daughter''s face and Bakira''s moaning legs and sighed deeply.

    "We''ll talkter. For now, let''s take care of Bakira. Come on, take care of the others."

    Despite her own mortal wounds, Aqu tends to the others first.

    The chieftain''s words sent everyone scrambling again.

    They had to rescue survivors, tend to the sick, and make sure they had food and shelter for the night.

    * * *

    The night was unusually dark and rainy.

    There was no moon, so the pitch-ck depths were illuminated only by the asional lightning strike.

    A shadow passed like a ghost through the rain that fell like spears.

    It was Vikir.

    Once again, Vikir had left Bk without telling anyone.

    The hound was now on his way to see Madame.

    ''...She''s someone I should have faced at least once.''

    Madame Eight-Legged was one of Vikir''s true purposes foring to Depht in the first ce.

    An ultra-dangerous beast whose danger is still unknown to the Empire.

    If we can hunt it down before it does, the benefits are endless.

    Humming.

    Vikir thought to himself as he listened to the pulsing of Beelzebub in the arteries of his wrist.

    ''In the future, when the Age of Destruction arrives, creatures like Madame will be rtivelymon, but for now... she is quite unique.''

    Besides, the Madame was the one who had forced Bk''s warriors to abandon their homes and move from ce to ce.

    Bk''s warriors were in a difficult position, having to avoid the Madame''s constantly expanding radius to satisfy her hunger, and having to avoid the Baskervilles, who were cutting through the jungle to expand their empire''s territory.

    "I can set them free."

    Madame Eightlegs and the Baskervilles. Vikir had the means to bring these two oppressors of Bk under his control.

    It would be a favor to Bk for all he had done for her, and a favor for their future.

    Vikir also wanted to test himself.

    How much stronger he had be during his two years in the Depht.

    ''This battle with Adonai has made me stronger. Soon I will be able to climb another step....''

    As he thought this, Vikir made his way through the rain.

    But the hound was soon forced to stop.

    A familiar scent wafted through the curtain of rain.

    Not a day has gone by that he hasn''t recognized it for the past two years.

    Aiyen. She stood before Vikir, drenched from head to toe.

    "I''ve been waiting for you."

    "...."

    "How long have you been standing there?"

    "...."

    Aiyen didn''t answer Vikir''s questions.

    Finally, she opens her mouth.

    "Wolves can''t be tamed."

    "...?"

    "No matter how much you tie them up, they break the leash and run."

    Aiyen lifted her head and looked straight into Vikir''s eyes.

    "Wolves can''t be tamed, after all. You can only make theme to you when they want to, without a leash."

    She smirked at Vikir.

    "You are not a hound. Vikir. You call yourself that, but... no hound ever behaves like you."

    "...."

    Vikir looked down at Aiyen''s legs.

    Her right leg was wrapped in a tight bundle of leaves and leather.

    Once, when they had fought the Adonai, Aiyen had wounded her leg while saving Vikir from a poisoned arrow.

    He still limped from the aftermath.

    Vikir broke the silence.

    " ...You can''t help me with your body. Go back to the vige."

    The air is so thick with water that the wordse out dry.

    But Aiyen kept her mouth shut, as if she''d expected that much.

    Then she held out something to Vikir.

    It was dried jerky and fruit and nuts wrapped in leaves.

    Vikir smirked.

    "It looks like a sacrificial meal."

    "Don''t joke about that."

    Aiyen opened his eyes fiercely and red at Vikir.

    Then he added a word.

    "I promise."

    The scene was eerie.

    The Hound thought it was a little familiar.

    Aiyen spoke again.

    "Promise me you''ll be back."

    "...."

    When Vikir didn''t answer, Aiyen spoke again, in a tone that sounded like he was holding his breath underwater.

    "No."

    She hesitated for a moment, then spoke again.

    "I don''t. You don''t have to promise toe back."

    A voice that crawls. A voice that hangs with anxiety, nervousness, and bitterness.

    Aiyen looks into Vikir''s eyes with a voice that sounds like she''s about to vomit blood.

    "You don''t have toe back, just stay alive...."

    Vikir is silent for a moment.

    Then, a little toote, he speaks.

    "...of course."

    Then the breath he''d been holding came out of Aiyen''s mouth, all white.

    A darkness that swallowed him whole.

    The master stood still, watching the hound, or rather the wolf, walk away.

    The wolf runs through the dawn again.

    Unlikest time, there was one thing she couldn''t say to Bikir.

    "You don''t have toe back, just stay alive....

    Women have a way of making difficult demands.

    For the first time in all his life, since he was born twice, he had lied.

    He didn''t know if he could keep this promise or not.

 Chapter 96: Madame Eight Legs (3)

    <h4>Chapter 96: Madame Eight Legs (3)</h4>

    Quack, quack, quack...

    A vague earthquake cloud covers the spot where the thunder left off.

    It may have been daytime, but with the thick dark clouds covering the sky, the pouring rain, and the frantic lightning, it felt like night.

    Vikir pushed his way through the sharp leaves of the Sword Forest.

    He had been following Madame''s trail sincest night.

    It wasmon knowledge that if it rained during a hunt, the chase would be abandoned. It''smon sense to abandon a hunt when it rains.

    But even in the midst of this heavy rain, the tracks of Madame''s movements remain unmistakable.

    Half-melted chunks of meaty everywhere.

    They appeared to be part of what Madame had eaten and vomited up, but I didn''t bother to examine them to see what kind of meat they were.

    Everywhere, Madame''s mucus and feces blow into the water, creating a foul odor.

    Thick hairs that felt like ck needles were scattered throughout the area, and the grass and trees around it were ckened and dried up.

    There''s no reason we can''t follow the trail.

    The hound advances, following the path of death indicated by the dead trees.

    Vikir recalled the Madame''s identity once more.

    When they first met, she had buried herselfpletely in the ckness of the water.

    So it''s impossible to know the exact shape of her body.

    Even the warriors of Bk, who had suffered under her tyranny for so long, had no idea what she looked like or even what kind of creature she was.

    Only their chieftain, Aqu, was able to give them a glimpse of her identity, based on faint oral ounts.

    "... Certainly, it''s hard to tell what species we''re dealing with based on the tracks.

    Traces of crashing into and crushing logs or rocks likend war monsters, flying across rivers or high valleys like birds of prey, traces of digging tunnels like underground monsters... ... The biological characteristics of all monsters are all mixed.

    What''s even more impressive is that it climbed up a rock wall with a slope of more than 90 degrees.

    A cliff so high that even birds can''t climb it. Madame scrambled up it.

    Vikir looked up toward the top of the cliff, hidden by clouds.

    It looks like he''ll have to climb this high to meet Madame.

    "... But first, I need to get ready."

    Vikir stared up at the cliff for a moment, then turned on his heel.

    A quick nce around the cliffs reveals that they''re shaped like isted mountains.

    It stuck out like a sore thumb in the nds.

    Most likely, the Madame was nesting in the higher ground.

    Vikir made a quick assessment of her location and turned away.

    If he fought now, he would lose, and he would barely survive, let alone win.

    Now that he knew where his opponent was, time was on his side.

    Vikir slowly moved away from the cliffside.

    Trying to gauge how high this sheer cliff could possibly be.

    * * *

    Vikir arrived at a swampy area quite a distance from Madame''s nest.

    The first thing Vikir did upon reaching the edge of the swamp was to scatter the bundle of straw he had been carrying in all directions.

    He had been sweating profusely as he made his way through the jungle, and his scent had soaked into the straw.

    The wind blew the straw, carrying his scent, everywhere.

    Now, due to the nature of convection that circles the swamp, Vikir''s scented straws will scatter, enveloping the entire swamp.

    They will be carried by the wind deeper into the swamp.

    Not only would it be impossible to pinpoint Vikir''s location, but there would be room for her to feel surrounded.

    ...Who would feel that way?

    "The master of this swamp."

    Vikir raised his head and stared into the center of the swamp.

    Suddenly, a log floating on the surface sank deep.

    And something huge began to crawl out of the swamp through the thick water.

    <Bog Smander>

    Danger Rating: A+

    Size: 9 meters

    Found in: Ridge 8, Red and ck Mountains

    -Named ''Infinite Regeneration Dragon''.

    A giant amphibian-like beast that lives deep in the swamps.

    It has strong territorial instincts and a gluttonous appetite, devouring everything that enters its swamp.

    They are feared by humans because of their unkible ability to regenerate from any wounds.

    It has ruled this swamp for a very long time.

    An old, giant smander emerged.

    Its entire body is covered in smooth skin and sticky slime.

    In its mouth were the arms and legs of several natives of unknown tribe.

    Vikir recognized him at a nce.

    "That was Mushuhushu''s rival, I suppose?

    There was a great snake named Mushuhushu who had recently fallen prey to Beelzebub.

    That snake''s rival was this giant right in front of him.

    The old smander stretched out his body, growingrger and more powerful as he aged.

    [hiss-]

    The old smander''s head swiveled to look for the intruder in its territory, but it couldn''t pinpoint a direction.

    That was because Vikir had sent the straw he had been gathering into the wind, and at the same time smeared mud all over himself to cover his scent.

    [grrrr... shhhhhhhhhhhhh!]

    The bog smander clucked its tongue and continued to crawl across the swamp.

    Vikir briefly considered fighting it, but quickly dismissed the idea.

    His capture of Mushuhushu the other day was luck in many ways.

    He had lost his territory to the floods and had been swept away, so he had lost a lot of stamina, and to replenish it, he had eaten at an uncharacteristic pace, leaving him sluggish.

    The hunt had been a rtively easy one, as we''d ambushed him while he was tired, full, and sleepy, and Aiyen had helped.

    But not now.

    The old smander was moderately hungry and very ufortable.

    Besides, isn''t it a monster so strong that it''s on par with Mushuhushu?

    If I were to fight him, I couldn''t guarantee 100% sess.

    Even if I could win moderately, there was no point in wasting my stamina in a ce like this, considering the fight with Madame that would follow.

    ''Except... there''s something I can do with him.''

    Vikir waited until the smander waspletely out of the swamp.

    And there was something else he was aiming for.

    The straw he''d sent into the wind earlier wasn''t just to hide his location.

    It was also to lure in "some dangerous creature" that might be lurking just beyond the wind''s reach.

    "...It''s almost time toe out.

    Vikir thought as he carefully followed the smander out of the swamp and into the woods.

    Then.

    The response came.

    As Vikir''s scent drifted across the jungle on the wind, the creatures began to respond.

    Minotaurs, ogres, trolls, and otherrge creatures responded.

    But none of them dared to enter the old smander''s territory. They could only salivate at the outer borders of the realm.

    ...But.

    Wee wee wee!

    Just one.

    There was one creature that had no fear of the old marsh smander and barged into his territory.

    weeeeeeng!

    An ominous sound of pping wings.

    It was an extremely eerie sound that made even the most powerful smanders cringe.

    Then, as the old smander left the swamp and entered the forest in search of Vikir, something huge appeared in front of him.

    It was like a dark cloud, very tall, very wide, and very vast.

    It moved about, elongated like a snake, and soared upward.

    Vikir was familiar with this strange, shapeless creature.

    <Bone-Sucking Mosquito>

    Danger Rating (Individual) : D

    Danger Rating (Swarm) : S

    Size: 3 mm

    Found in: Red and ck Mountains, Ridge 9

    -Nicknamed the ''bone-sucking mosquito''.

    Not much is known about it except that it sucks bone, not blood.

    It was not a single giant, but a swarm of many smaller ones.

    Wee wee wee wee wee!

    Mosquitoes flew in swarms, clinging to everything around them.

    Even the smander, which had traveled quite a distance from the swamp.

    Vikir looked at the mosquitoes and thought.

    "They are terrible things."

    These mosquitoes were worse than the ones people usually recognize.

    Normal mosquitoes stick their long, straw-like proboscis into flesh and drink blood.

    But it wasn''t human blood that these mosquitoes craved.

    It was bones.

    They poke their long, pointed snouts into the bodies of their prey and suck out the bones, much longer than the average mosquito, and their victims lose all the bones in their bodies.

    What''s even more horrifying is that... these mosquitoes only suck on bones, leaving behind skin, flesh, blood, and intestines.

    The old smander then proceeds to show us in real time what happens to those who get caught by these dreaded mosquitoes.

    [Shhhhhh!?]

    The old smander freaked out.

    He squirted mucus all over his body to ward off the mosquitoes'' attacks, and he tried to turn and run back into the swamp.

    But the mosquitoes were much quicker to react.

    Attracted by Vikir''s scent, these mosquitoes cling to the smander''s body, causing it to die and harden its mucus, while thete arrivals use the corpses of theirpanions as footholds to sting.

    Soon, the mosquitoes begin to suck out the smander''s bones.

    Swish, swish, swish.

    The fluid from the mosquito''s saliva is exactly what dissolves the smander''s bones and turns them back into liquid.

    The smander tries as hard as it can to get back into the swamp, but the fire spreads it a few meters from the water''s edge.

    It had lost all its bones to support its weight.

    The mosquitoes continued to swarm the swamp long after they''d eaten all the smander''s bones.

    Whirr! Whirr! Whirr!

    That is, until Bikir started a fire and used the smoke to scare away all the mosquitoes.

    The mosquitoes disappeared as quickly as they had appeared.

    Vikir finally emerged from the swamp.

    He burned some wet leaves, just in case, creating a thick cloud of smoke.

    "...Smoke."

    Vikir looked around and nodded.

    The bone-sucking mosquitoes were terrifying.

    Each mosquito was small and weak, but the danger level of the whole swarm was far beyondmon sense.

    Vikir turned his head to look at the swamp.

    The smander had fallen to the ground just two meters from the swamp.

    Surprisingly, it was still alive.

    The bones in his body were gone, and he was shivering, but he was still breathing, thanks to his tough skin and life force.

    Of course, it was obvious that its miserable existence would be short-lived, as it was nothing more than a watery shell.

    "...."

    Vikir reached out and touched the smander''s body once.

    Flesh and blood oozing from the tough hide, intestines floating around.

    Now he was nothing more than a bag of blood.

    "Good. Well made. That should be enough."

    Vikir tugged on the still-breathing smander''s tail.

    As the mana of a Advance Graduator passed through his body, he was able to pull the body of this huge monster.

    What''s more, the old smander''s body was lighter because its bones were gone.

    [Swoosh! Swoosh-]

    The smander made a bizarre noise every time it was dragged, but it could do nothing about it.

    The lungs and other organs in its body were now all mixed up, so it couldn''t even make a sound.

    Only thick tears dripped from his eyes.

    "Consider this your karma for eating so many humans."

    Vikir''s eyes are cold as he drags the smander, a giant bag of blood and intestines.

    It had been a short preparation, a rather long one.

    Now that everything was in ce, there was only one thing left to do.

    To meet the Madame, and to kill her.

    Then I will leave the jungle, and Bk, with all the debts of my heart.

    A return to Baskerville, Ironde.

    It will not be a long one.

 Chapter 97: Madame Eight Legs (4)

    <h4>Chapter 97: Madame Eight Legs (4)</h4>

    It waste at night.

    Rumbling... boom!

    The rain had stopped, but there was more thunder.

    Vikir lifted his head and looked up at the giant rock formation rising before him.

    Composed of quartz and sandstone, the massive cliff stood alone as a soaring peak in contrast to the t terrain around it.

    Many caves have been carved into the steep cliffs, and their pupils stare nkly into the darkness, like the eyes of a blind Guani.

    asionally, in the darkness of a cave, quartz or amethyst gemstones would glint in the reflection of a lightning bolt, and the cliffs would seem to stand guard in every direction, like a thousand-eyed watchman.

    Vikir gritted his teeth.

    From Baskerville Street to the watery depths of Bk.

    Vikir''s body had been trained to the limit by now, and every twitching muscle in his body was taut.

    Vikir began to climb the steep cliff barehanded.

    The muscles in his back and arms pulled and released, pulled and released, pulled and released....

    Vikir scrambled up the rock wall, one foot at a time.

    ...Walgrok!

    Sometimes the stctites he was holding on to would snap, or the stone beak he was stepping on would snap off the wall.

    Without a single scream, Vikir calmly braced herself with the strength of his other arm or foot, making room for a quick grab or step.

    When he felt he had nothing to grab or step on, he drew his magic sword, Beelzebub, and mmed it into the wall, climbing upward.

    Thanks to Mushu Hushu''s abilities, no sound was made during the entire process.

    ...I wonder how long he climbed like that.

    When I thought I was halfway up the cliff, I saw a cave.

    It was narrow enough for one person to fit in, but it was quite winding inside, so it felt cozy.

    It looked like a ce to take a break from the climb if anyone happened toe across it.

    But Vikir did not enter the cave.

    "...A trap."

    This is where the Madame''s nest is located.

    I didn''t think there would be afortable ce beneath the worst of monsters.

    There was a slight chance that this was a natural trap to test the will of the challenger.

    A weaker man, exhausted from the journey up here, would have been easily tempted, but the seasoned Vikir still had some stamina left.

    Vikir didn''t rush into the cave, but kept a close eye on it.

    ...or otherwise.

    A corpse, a skeleton, rolled around in the cave.

    Had there been a warrior who hade this far before?

    It seemed that he had entered this cave, never made it out, and died, leaving only his remains behind.

    Vikir nced up without entering the cave.

    Now he understood why there were so many skeletons in the cave.

    Sticky...

    In time, a thin liquid began to trickle down the cliff.

    It was a mixture of fluids and excrement that Madame often threw out, and it was usually hard or thick, but when it rained, it thickened and loosened.

    The mucus that has umted in the stomach is loosened by the rain.

    They flowed down, covering the whole area, threatening to block the entrance to the cave.

    From the outside, it looked like whipped cream dripping down a giant cake, but the disgust and stench was indescribable.

    "... If we walked into that cave, we''d be in trouble."

    Fortunately, Vikir hadn''t gone into the cave, nor had he fallen asleep in it, so he quickly kicked open the entrance and moved to the side.

    Luckily, there was a stone beak jutting out like a roof right next to him, and he ducked under it to avoid a shower of slime.

    The slime, a mixture of the Madame''s bodily fluids and feces, causes skin to swell and bump upon contact.

    Vikir''s skin was imbued with the protection of the Styx River, so he should be able to withstand it, but even so, he didn''t want toe in contact with that slime.

    ...Gulp!

    Soon, the slime hadpletely covered the mouth of the cliffside cave, and it flowed down the gentle slope of the cavern, filling it with a murky, foul odor.

    Dahlgrak.

    The skeleton lying within touched the slime and began to float.

    The warrior, who must havee to see the Madame long ago, had probably fallen asleep in the cave when he entered for a short rest and drowned, never to return.

    It wasn''t the only cave that held a skeleton.

    Temptations to rest were everywhere, and it took superhuman endurance to climb the grueling and difficult outcroppings to avoid them.

    Nails peel, fingerprints fade.

    Every time Vikir felt the urge to take a break, even for a moment, he gritted his teeth harder.

    As the hound of the Baskervilles, evil was all that remained of his time in the Age of Destruction.

    Vikir climbed the cliffs, dodging dripping slime along the way, and passed dozens more caves containing skeletons.

    ...How much time had passed?

    Vikir could see the top of the peak through the thick mist of water and inky clouds.

    He had made it this far without falling off and dying, without being covered in slime, and he had aplished his goal.

    Every muscle and bone in his body screamed, but it was still a remarkable aplishment.

    Now, Vikir looked around the peak.

    The ck, mushy soil was covered with flimsy, sticky threads that whipped in the wind.

    A foul odor emanated from the entire peak. A stench so foul that not even rain and storms could wash it away.

    " ... It''s as if arge amount of meat has been gathered together and is rotting."

    Vikir took a step toward the center of the peak, and then.

    Bam! Swoosh.

    The ground at the top of the peak sank in, sucking Vikir''s foot up to his shin.

    It was like stepping on the surface of a swamp.

    Upon closer inspection, the ground was covered in rotting flesh. That''s why it felt so unpleasantly squishy and hot.

    An unpleasant sensation wrapped around my entire leg.

    If I hadn''t wrapped my legs in leather, I would have been itching.

    "If I stay still, I''ll be up to my waist."

    Vikir scrambled to his feet.

    I didn''t know the floor, so I had to choose only the hard footrests that protruded upward because of the floor that was slowly sinking.

    Vikir quickly realized the identity of the flimsy footholds sticking out of the slime and rotting dirt.

    They were bones.

    A floor made of countless bones.

    They tangled with sticky, congealed slime to form a massive mass.

    The stench emanated from the less decayed chunks of meat thaty beneath them.

    These carcasses, apparently leftovers from Madame''s meals, are covered in slime, decaying and fermenting, emitting a foul poison, odor, and heat.

    Vikir had to work hard to keep himself from drowning in this swamp of slime and rotting meat.

    Then.

    "...!"

    Vikir stopped in his tracks for a moment.

    An ominous aura emanated from the cave ahead.

    But that wasn''t what stopped Vikir in his tracks.

    The skeletons. Bodies that hadn''t yet decayed, scattered in various fragments.

    Brown skin, silver hair, faces contorted in pain and fear.

    They were clearly Bk''s men and wolves.

    Abui was a good hunter. Adul, the strong swimmer. Akelon, who was an expert at sewing. Asagl, who was a very fast runner. Asak, whoughed and cried a lot. Aguil, who was always arguing with Ahun when they first moved to the vige. Agun, who was unusually gluttonous. Atl, who was really good at javelin....

    The friends he''d lived with for the past two years, all of whom he recognized, of course.

    " ...If you''re going to throw up like this, you might as well eat it."

    Vikir pressed his lips together and gathered the remains of his friends.

    Then he observed a moment of silence.

    A warrior''s ritual before a final battle. It was a series of steps that transformed the emotions of the past two years into resolve.

    "...."

    And then Vikir''s head snapped up, his eyes glowing red.

    At the end of the long line of flesh and bones, a great darkness lurked.

    A gaping hole in the center of the peak. An underground tunnel of bone and flesh.

    It was obvious from its size and poisonousness that it was Madame''s nest.

    A poisonous exhtion, unmistakable as the Madame''s vomit from the bottom of the deep chamber, billows out of the cavern.

    Vikir listened to the breath and stenching from under the ground.

    "...."

    No matter how many times he checked, the result was the same.

    The grotesquely protruding belly fat, the sound of that chubby lump of flesh flinching was clear.

    Madame has been in her tunnels for some time, breathing evenly, as if she has no intention of crawling out.

    No wonder she''d raided a Bk vige and eaten to her fill.

    Karak-

    Vikir silently picked up the bow on his back.

    Then, carrying the Baskerville family''s unique dark red aura, he fired an arrow.

    deration of war.

    A red trail flew through the curtain of slime and rotten fibers.

    It carried the challenger''s intentions to the depths within.

    And then.

    ... ... ... ... ....

    The breath and venom that had been spewing from the burrow stopped.

    Then.

    [Zzzzzzzzzz!]

    A fierce rage erupts.

    Madame''s malice spewed forth like an avnche from an active volcano.

    Soon, a sinister presence emerges from the rotting meatir.

    A haunting depht nightmare.

    Horrors of unstoppable causality.

    A resident of the dark side.

    It was the moment when ''Madam Eight Legs'' revealed its hideous appearance under the torrential rain and lightning.

 Chapter 98: Madame Eight Legs (5)

    <h4>Chapter 98: Madame Eight Legs (5)</h4>

    <Madame ''Eight Legs''>

    Risk Rating : S

    Size : ?

    Found in: Ridge 10, Red and ck Mountains

    -Nicknamed ''Madame of Dephts''. Her exact race name is unknown.

    In the distant past, the most terrible beings that inhabited the depths of the Oil Pole Hell were spiders of immense size, and it is believed that Madame Eight-Legged is a distant descendant that retains the form of those giant spiders that lived in the ancient past.

    Their bodies are filled with a disgusting venom, and their webs are stronger than steel, unbreakable by anything but the infernal fires of the Underworld.

    Vikir looked up at the giant queen spider before him.

    Indeed. Facing this overwhelming force, he understood why Bk''s warriors had been so worried and frightened.

    Before leaving Bk, Aqu had expressed concern.

    "''There is not much known about the Madame. Only the shaman Ahheman knew more, but now that he''s gone....''

    But. There was one thing Aqu didn''t know.

    Ahheman was from the Rokoko, a tribe of shamans, and as such, he was familiar with the ancient creatures.

    And Vikir had recently acquired a number of secret documents from a group of Rokoko who had fled the gue during the Red Death.

    Surprisingly, among the documents were important books that the Rokoko shaman hadn''t taken with him during his hasty flight from the gue, including a detailed analysis of the creatures of the depht.

    It contained information on rare beasts such as the "Swamp Smander" and the "Bone-Sucking Mosquito," and the Madame of Depht was no exception.

    -We don''t know exactly what kind of monster she is.

    However, she is simr in appearance to the giant, terrifying spiders of history books from the distant past, and is expected to transform into such a creature as she grows older.

    -For now, she lives alone and isted in a forsakennd between the low hills beyond the Red and ck Mountains and the shores of the cold, harsh Sea of Ruin.

    But unlike in the old days, when she kept to herself, these days she seems to be thinking about crossing the borders of the Red and ck Mountains.

    -The Madame of Water is always hungry, and her voracious appetite,bined with her fierce cunning and great strength, means that neither her enemies nor any other creature in the ck Mountain Ecosystem will be able to stop her.

    -And neither will we. We must prepare for the nightmare that may soon be upon us. The horrors of water!

    Vikir looked at Madame Eight-Legged as he recalled this and other information.

    Her plump body expanded and contracted as she exhaled and inhaled.

    The ck-green poisonous fog that emanated from her body formed a thick veil, beyond which eight red eyes pierced Vikir''s entire body.

    [Jaaaaack...!]

    Madame Eight-Legged reacted first.

    She raised her massive forelegs and mmed them into the ground.

    ...Thud!

    The floor wrinkled, and then a huge wave rose up and crashed over Vikir.

    Shattered bones, rotting flesh, spider webs, and fecal matter all mixed together in a hot, fermenting mass.

    Faced with this wave of disgust, Vikir can onlyugh bitterly.

    "Good thing I skipped dinner."

    If I had eaten, I would have gotten rid of it.

    Even Vikir, who has a strong squeamishness, thinks, "I''m d I didn''t eat dinner."

    Puff puff puff!

    Vikir flung himself out of the way of the wave.

    He couldn''t dodge them casually.

    The slightest opening and he''d sink to the bottom of the shifting ground, or get kicked by Madame Eightlegs'' extra kicks.

    Vikir leaped upward,nding on the massive ribs of something towering over him.

    Karak-

    The archery skills taught to you by Aiyen shine through.

    Madame Eight-Legged flinched slightly as Vikir''s arrow sliced through the air.

    She had been wounded herself during the raid on Bk''s vige.

    It was a minor one, but she had no choice but to react as if it were a nuisance to have hard-to-remove thorns embedded in her body.

    Madame ducked slightly backwards to avoid an arrow flying towards her eye.

    Sssssss...

    An infernal darkness enveloped her like a shroud.

    Madame''s exhtion turned into a thick poisonous fog, adding an inky ckness to the darkness that almostpletely obscured her body.

    Rumbling-bang!

    If it weren''t for the thunderbolt that struck at just the right time.

    ...sh!

    In an instant, a single bolt of lightning bathed everything in white light.

    It was obvious how cunningly Madame had been preparing for her next attack while crouching in the darkness.

    The moment she stretches upwards, her silhouette is revealed in the white light.

    Boom!

    Vikir stabbed an arrow into the gap in the center.

    It was like baking beans in a fire.

    In that brief moment of light, Vikir was able to see beyond the darkness and put the arrow right on target.

    The bull''s-eye was Madame''s left eye.

    CRACK!

    The sound of a red ss ball shattering.

    The arrow hadnded squarely in Madame''s skull.

    [Jaaaaaah!?]

    Madame panicked as one of her eight eyes suddenly burned ck.

    At that very moment, another thunderbolt struck.

    ...sh!

    Another bolt of lightning.

    The light became a beacon to guide Vikir''s second arrow.

    Crackle.

    Madame''s missing eye became two.

    The sh of light was followed exactly seven secondster by a loud boom.

    ...Boom!

    The sound followed slightlyter than the light, and by the time it exploded, Vikir was once again preparing for her next attack.

    "Two empty left eyeballs."

    Vikir deliberately targeted only the left side of Madame''s face.

    The two eyeballs on her left side are currently pierced by arrows, so that''s her blind spot.

    Like a seasoned hound, Vikir made a quick judgment call, and it paid off.

    The Madame hesitated as Vikir turned to the left, sensing that she had lost sight of the enemy.

    Taking advantage of the moment, Vikir drew his magic sword, Beelzebub, and unleashed a st of Graduator-grade aura.

    Baskervillian Carnivore.

    Six teeth zed with aura as thick as blood.

    Quack, quack, quack!

    The long sh created a huge crack.

    The sound of hard chitinous armor shattering and the squishy flesh inside being torn apart.

    Denggeng!

    With a loud bang, Madame''s left front leg was severed.

    [Jaaaaah!]

    Madame screamed with her whole body, through the many breathing holes in her body.

    But that wasn''t the end of it.

    Thud!

    Vikir''s blow cut through the air like a whip, severing not only one of Madame''s front legs, but also the mucous sac at the back of her lower belly, where the cobwebs wereing out.

    Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz...

    The cobwebs began to leak.

    I prepared for a follow-up blow as Madame stumbled backwards, dripping with slime.

    Once the attack was sessful, the hunt was relentless.

    Once you have the upper hand, you can''t let go.

    But.

    "...?"

    Vikir paused, about to strike.

    The old hound''s instincts were screaming. Back off now!

    Without hesitation, Vikir surrendered to his instincts.

    On the battlefield, it is often wiser to listen to instinct than to reason.

    Right then.

    ...Pow!

    Vikir''s back snapped into a G-shape.

    Madame''s killing intent had overtaken his instincts.

    Where did ite from?

    From an unexpected ce, another of Madame''s legs shot out and mmed into Vikir''s body.

    "...!"

    Vikir saw it clearly as his body buckled under the impact.

    The Madame''s legs that he had cut off earlier had suddenly regenerated.

    And two of them!

    [Jarrarak-kick-]

    Madame raised her left front leg as if to mock Vikir.

    To Vikir''s surprise, it was split in two, starting at the same point where it had been severed.

    In other words, two new legs had grown from where it had been severed.

    Madame''s absurdly powerful regenerative powers make such a thing possible.

    Her legs had a bizarre structure where the more you cut, the more you grow.

    Quack! ...Puck!

    Vikir crashed to the ground, buried like garbage in a pile of bones.

    Madame''s legs turned Bikir''s body, which was forged by the blessing of the River Styx, into rags.

    The stomach skin was ripped open, all the intestines leaked out, and the right leg waspletely cut off.

    The bones of his left leg were shattered and bent into a rhomboid, and the impact had blinded him in one eye and ear.

    In a single moment, a hero fell.

    And Madame, who had reduced countless heroes to rotting lumps of flesh in the past, had done something simr this time.

    [giggle giggle giggle...]

    Madame sneers in triumph.

    I could see her eyes, of which there were only six left, curling gently into a smirk.

    ...However.

    Madame soon had to retract the mockery from her face.

    "I didn''t know that, so if you cut off a leg, it bes two?"

    Bikir casually brushed off his seat and stood up.

    At the same time.

    Tsutsutsutsuts...

    ck steam began to rise from Vikir''s entire body.

    The sound and smell of burning flesh, and ck smoke billowing out.

    But it wasn''t burning flesh, it was regenerating at a staggering rate.

    A bog smander.

    The restorative powers of this monstrous amphibian, imbued in the magic sword Beelzebub, hadpletely rebuilt Vikir''s body.

    Finally, Vikir spoke.

    " ... but this is within the margin of error."

    With a voice cold enough to make Madame cringe, the hound began to barrel its teeth in earnest.

 Chapter 99: Madame Eight Legs (6)

    <h4>Chapter 99: Madame Eight Legs (6)</h4>

    <Binge Fly ''Beelzebub''> / Awl

    -1 slot: Burn �C Cerberus(A+)

    Slot -2: Silent Hill �C Mushu Hushu(A+)

    Slot -3: Super Regeneration �C Bog Smander(A+)

    The third orb of the magic sword Beelzebub spat out red light.

    The spirit of a bog smander raged within the orb.

    The destructive energy soon turned into wraith energy, coursing through the veins of Vikir''s body.

    The skill ''Super Regeneration'' has been cast.

    Tsutsutsutsuts...

    His body was regenerating at an incredible rate, with ck steam billowing from every muscle fiber.

    New legs sprouted from severed limbs, intestines regenerated, bones fused together, and gaping wounds healed themselves.

    Smanders are some of the most regenerative creatures in the water, able to regenerate their arms down to the tips of their fingers even if they''ve been cut off at the shoulders.

    Of course, regeneration on such arge scale is very draining, but it''s far better than spending your life crippled.

    Of course, only in battle.

    Within seconds of being reduced to a ragged mass on the ground, Vikir had perfectly reconstituted his body.

    [Zaak?]

    Madame raised her forelegs and scratched the top of her head in confusion.

    Vikir cautiously backed away.

    ''...If I''d gone in for a follow-up blow, I''d have been killed instantly.''

    He had trusted his instincts and retreated when the first attack had been sessful.

    If I had ignored the warnings of my instincts and moved forward just a little bit, just a little bit deeper for the next attack, I would have been crushed to death, and even the most regenerative of smanders wouldn''t be able to do much about that.

    At least I''d still have a body to regenerate.

    Meanwhile.

    [Hmm?]

    Madame was fidgeting, as if something had disturbed her earlier.

    It was the burning smell that wafted past her nostrils.

    The smell of fire, which spiders hate so much, wasing from nowhere.

    Then Madame realized where the smell wasing from.

    It wasing from her own ass.

    ...Crunch! ...Crunch!

    The mucous sac on her ass where Vikir''s blow had struck earlier.

    The mucus sac, which normally sheds webs, was now wounded and burning.

    What was burning in that wound was definitely the dark mes of the oil system!

    "How does hellfire taste?"

    Vikir asked as he flew to the left.

    Earlier, when he had shed at the spider''s body, Vikir had activated one more skill in addition to releasing his aura.

    It was the Burn skill he''d gotten from capturing Cerberus.

    Enemies shed or impaled by the de of the magic sword Beelzebub would suffer fatal burns.

    The infernal mes of Cerberus'' wraith''s remains would continue to scorch opponents.

    [Jaaaaah!]

    Madame angrily rubbed her rump against the ground.

    But even so, the mes were not extinguished, and they burned more intensely.

    The mucus leaking from Madame''s mucous sacs continues to draw in the mes, just as the mes are drawn in by the holes in the oil barrel.

    Once touched, it burns forever. That''s the curse of Cerberus the Hellhound.

    In the end, Madame admitted it. What a nuisance these infernal mes that Cerberus has brought with him are.

    Chhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

    Madame held her breath and expanded the hole in her ass, spilling the vast amount of mucus that had been contained inside onto the floor.

    Huge amounts of white liquid gurgled out.

    Vikir stretched back to avoid them.

    Suddenly, the mes that had been burning Madame''s mucus sacs were all out of her ass.

    She had expelled a great deal of mucus at once.

    [Gag! Gag!]

    Madame turned around, her legs shaking in frustration.

    Then she turned to me.

    "...?"

    She did something that would have made Vikir shake his head.

    She stuck her leg into the burrow, swirled it around, and pulled out a small, round sphere.

    It was an egg.

    Vikir suddenly understood why Madame was so hungry all the time.

    Madame was pregnant, and she was carrying many eggs inside her.

    However, with the current intruder draining her stamina to the max, there is only so much food she can eat.

    [Ajak-ahjak-kwadeudeuk-]

    Madame gobbled up her eggs, concentrated nourishment, without hesitation.

    "What a heartless mother."

    Without another word, Vikir raised his bow.

    Boom!

    An arrow flew out and headed for Madame.

    The arrow cut through the air sharply and lodged in her third eye from the left.

    Crack!

    The eyeball exploded like a raw egg.

    Along with the aura that spun at high speed on the surface of the arrowhead, the mes of the oil system were transferred.

    [Gaaaahhhh!]

    Madame stretched out her legs in fury, but what awaited her at the end of the trajectory was a sword strike wielded by Vikir.

    Denggeng-.

    Again, there was a crack as if the night sky was being split in two.

    This time, Madame''s right front leg was severed and she sprawled across the floor.

    ...Thud!

    Vikir stepped back, dodging the poisonous blood that sprayed in all directions.

    [Giggle-]

    Despite losing her front legs, Madame was not at all agitated.

    She simply retrieved another egg from her burrow, ate it, and regenerated two new legs from the severed limb.

    Poof! Poof!

    Madame now had ten legs.

    She could no longer attack with her severed legs, as they would always grow back into two.

    Vikir remained silent, watching Madame''s every move.

    Finally.

    Vikir nodded.

    "I see. Cut one, make two, right?"

    And with that, Beelzebub bared his six gnarled teeth, poking out of Vikir''s arteries.

    "Let''s see how far it goes, then."

    A ck aura exploded madly from Vikir''s entire body.

    Baskerville Sixth Form.

    The blood aura at the tip of the magic sword burned as brightly as the sun as it descended toward Madame''s legs once more.

    The pointed tip, like the teeth of a carnivorous animal, cut six trajectories in quick session.

    Dengeng- deng- deng-.

    The two newly grown legs were sliced off again, and Madame regenerated them as if it were hopeless.

    Poof! Woody, woody, woody!

    Four legs sprouted from where two legs had been severed.

    Vikir let out another long stream of aura.

    The sensation of all the blood in his body being transformed into aura, a dazzling realm of martial power!

    Feeling as if every vein in his body was on fire, Vikir shot forward.

    The aura de shed out again.

    The high-speed rotating aura of the Graduator sliced through Madame''s rigid exoskeleton.

    Two new legs sprouted from the severed limbs.

    Vikir continued to burn the mana in his body to produce the aura, and each time he did, Madame grew more and more leggy.

    [Jaaaaaah!]

    Madame used her many legs to oviposit all over Vikir''s body.

    ...Puff-puff-puff-puck!

    Despite the mind-numbing pain, Vikir''s eyes remained focused.

    He stood and endured the terrible agony like a seasoned hound from the Age of Destruction.

    The regenerative powers of the bog smander once again heal Vikir''s body.

    But it could not do anything about the terrible poison that had infiltrated his body.

    The terrible poison dissolves into his blood, churning through his entire body.

    The Graduator''s aura scorches his veins, but it''s clear he won''tst long.

    Vikir lifted his blurred vision and red at the Madame before him.

    The mockery on the Madame''s face was only getting worse.

    [Kiririk- Jah!]

    Madame raised her two forelegs in unison, as if to crush the staggering Vikir in one fell swoop.

    It was quite a leisurely movement.

    ... but?

    Stagger.

    For a moment, Madame stumbled too.

    Not enough strength? No. Madame still had plenty of energy left.

    But why is her bnce off?

    Suddenly, Madame realized.

    There were too many new legs sprouting from her forelegs.

    She had just released all the mucus in her gut from the annoying burning of Cerberus'' mes, so she was now lighter.

    Add to that the weight of his many overgrown legs, and he''s off-bnce for a moment.

    Vikir did not miss the brief moment when Madame flinched at the unexpected shift in her center of gravity.

    "...!"

    Vikirunched himself with a sharp cry.

    The poison made his mind foggy.

    He knew by instinct that this was hisst chance.

    Madame panicked and iled to steady herself, but her two front legs were already too heavy and she couldn''t help but fall to one side.

    Furthermore, her three left eyeballs were so blinded by the distance that she couldn''t see the trajectory of Vikir''s leap.

    Madame stretched out her middle leg to stop him, but her aim was off.

    Vikir then stabbed Beelzebub into the spider''s abdomen, which was now empty and missing its middle leg.

    Ta-da!

    As it turned out, Vikir''s aura could not prate Madame''s abdomen.

    That''s because beneath her lower abdominal sack was a solid breastte, a shield that was strong enough to block even the aura of a Graduator.

    Vikir''s sword caught in a groove in Madame''s breastte.

    In this aspect, Madame was lucky and Vikir was unlucky.

    ...However.

    Vikir hadn''t aimed to plunge his sword into Madame''s chest in the first ce.

    "Yaaaaaah!"

    With all his might, Vikir pushed at Beelzebub.

    The needle of the awl against the hard breastte pushed it back.

    That''s right. I can''t pierce, but I can push.

    Madame was off-center under the weight of her heavy forelegs and the empty weight of her mucus sac.

    Vikir''s superhuman strength eventually knocked Madame sideways.

    And next to her was the ground, which was weakened by squishy flesh and decaying bone.

    In this aspect, Madame was unlucky and Vikir was lucky.

    [Jaaaaah!?]

    Madame panicked and iled her foot, but it was cut off by an additional aura de from Vikir.

    Vikir''s skillful cut was precise, targeting only the weak joint at the end of the leg.

    It was an almost instinctive sh, impossible with his blurred vision.

    Soon enough, new legs stretched out, but it was toote.

    Thud, thud, thud!

    Madame mmed into the soft ground and rolled toward the base of the cliff.

    For the first time in her life, Madame shudders at the unfamiliar sensation.

    The color in herst remaining eyeball is clearly fear.

    She tried to squeeze webs from the mucous sacs on her tail and cling to the rock face, but it was impossible now.

    Cerberus'' infernal fire had drained it all out earlier.

    ...Thud! ...Thud! ...Thud!

    Madame bounced and rolled a few times off the top of the craggy peak before plunging straight down the cliff.

    And it was the same for Vikir.

    "...!"

    Madame did not go alone as she fell to the cliff.

    At thest moment, she stretched her overgrown legs as far as they would go and pulled her resentful foe who had pushed her down with her.

    Soon, Vikir and Madame were falling straight from the top of the craggy peak toward the ground below.

    And then, in onest desperate effort, Vikir pulled out his secret weapon.

    ...Puck!

    Vikir struck Madame in the chest, sending her flying off to the side.

    Beside him, he can see the struggling Madame falling toward the ground at a rapid pace.

    Vikir''s recoil puts him farther away from Madame, but he''s still falling at a high pace.

    "...."

    Unlike Madame, however, who was screaming in terror, Vikir simply closed his eyes tightly and held his breath.

    It wasn''t fear of the shock of hitting the ground.

    ...It was preparation. Preparation tond.

    And then.

    I could see the ground. It was rapidly approaching.

    But what greeted Madame and Vikir on the ground was clearly different.

    Madame was simply falling toward the ground, but where Vikir was falling, there was arge object waiting for him.

    It''s a water balloon, inted to bursting.

    A cushion of something squishy stuffed inside tough leather.

    It was the gassy, bloated carcass of a bog smander.

 Chapter 100: Nostalgia (1)

    <h4>Chapter 100: Nostalgia (1)</h4>

    POP!

    The sound of a balloon popping echoed through the water.

    For a moment, Vikir felt his mind being snapped.

    A tremendous impact struck his entire body.

    But this time, the seasoned hound didn''t step on death''s door.

    Grabbing onto the broken cord, Vikir gritted his teeth and endured the impact of the fall on his entire body.

    He looks up and sees that his limbs are still attached.

    Vikir breathes a sigh of relief despite the pain. Now that he knew the outside of his body was intact, it was time to check the inside.

    ... The inside was in better shape than he expected.

    My head was cracked, all my ribs were broken, all my bones were fractured, my legs were bent in weird directions, and my muscles, organs, and blood vessels were torn apart.

    The pain and wounds would have killed a normal person several times over, but not Vikir, who possessed extraordinary regenerative powers.

    This was an injury that could be repaired with the help of the Bog Smander''s Wraith imprisoned within the magic sword Beelzebub.

    "...Exquisite."

    Vikir checked the giant pillow where he had fallen.

    It was the dposed, gassy carcass of a Boggy Bog Smander.

    It had been attacked by swarms of bone-sucking mosquitoes, leaving its tough skin filled with blood, flesh, and soft organs.

    The unfortunate smander had been alive until Vikir climbed the crag, and apparently died while Vikir was at the top of the peak fighting Madame.

    The smander''s death and dposition caused gas to build up in its tough skin, which made it even more puffy, and Vikir fell on top of it.

    Needless to say, this didn''t soften the impact.

    Falling on water is still a shock.

    Vikir pushed himself up through the pain.

    "At least it didn''t have the smander''s bones."

    If the smander''s carcass had a solid skeleton holding it together, Vikir would have been even more traumatized by the impact.

    Luckily, the bone-sucking mosquitoes had eaten all of the smander''s bones, so she was spared.

    But.

    His physical injuries were mostly healed, but he couldn''t help the stench.

    The impact of Vikir''s fall had exploded the smander''s carcass, sending gases, rotting guts, and blood everywhere.

    The stench was sickening.

    The stench is unimaginable, given that it''s the smander that stinks so badly, and the rotting stench that''s added to it.

    If you ever get out of here, you''ll probably have to stay in the bath for days straight.

    ... but.

    The stench wasn''t the issue right now.

    Vikir had something else he needed to check first.

    "...."

    Vikir turned his gaze to the solid rock in the distance.

    On ity arge, bloody chunk of meat.

    Madame Eight-Legged, as powerful as she was, apparently didn''t have the stamina to withstand the impact of a fall down a cliff.

    "Well. You must have sustained quite a few injuries when you raided Bk''s tribe.''

    Her entire exoskeleton had been shattered, all her vital organs-bones, lungs, heart-had been spilled to the ground, and many of her legs were bent in grotesque ways.

    But amazingly, Madame is still alive.

    She barely manages to pull herself upright, shaking her half-exploded and mashed body.

    Beneath her, mangled intestines ooze out of her.

    "...."

    Vikir stretched and walked slowly toward Madame.

    Madame. Even a demon of depht can''t help but feel fear when they see the shadow of death looming over them.

    Madame shuddered as she met Vikir''s red eyes.

    It was an emotion that coursed through her bones, down to the very core of her exoskeleton. It was fear, 100% pure.

    "...Are you afraid?"

    [....]

    "Are you afraid of death too?"

    Vikirughed dryly, twisting the corners of his mouth where rotten blood had dried.

    Madame felt the brains in her shattered skull, torn into pieces, shrinking away.

    With each step Vikir took, her heart thudded against the outside of her ribs.

    The old madam, whose intelligence and memory had been sharpened by her long life, had imprinted Vikir''s current appearance in her mind.

    The flickering vision, the approaching terror, the looming death, and the hound, the death dog!

    [Zaarak...]

    The sound of the beast''s cries was small and feeble, like a child''s whimper.

    Madame staggered backwards, dazed, dazed, dazed.

    The burst mucus sac was oozing out of her, but she didn''t seem to mind.

    Vikir staggered up to her and plunged his awl into her back.

    ...Pfft!

    Beelzebub dug deep into the cracks in the tarnished armor.

    Madame shuddered and struggled, but her movements were entirely aimed at escape, and she showed no sign of fighting back.

    ...pow! ...pow! ...pow! ...pow!

    The awl sank like teeth. Bikir''s assault continued.

    He had no strength left in his belly, so all he could do was press down with his body weight, but still, he was surely diminishing Madame point by point.

    Karma.

    The Wraiths of all the Bk warriors who had died innocently, and the Wraiths of all the natives of all the tribes of the jungle who had died countless times before, were weighing on Vikir''s wrist.

    The karma she had umted up to this point had be experience points, making him stronger... but not as strong as he was at this moment.

    The touch of these many Wraiths dragging her down into the depths of the abyss was clearly self-inflicted.

    Gulp! Gulp! Gulp! Gulp!

    Soon, Madame''s soul began to be sucked into the orb of Beelzebub.

    <Binge Fly ''Beelzebub''> / Awl

    -1 slot: Burn-Cerberus (A+)

    Slot -2: Silent Hill �C Monsieur Hushu(A+)

    Slot -3: Super Regeneration �C Swamp Smander (A+)

    Three formidable creatures of A+ danger.

    Their Wraiths originally upied each of the three orbs beneath Beelzebub''s de, creating a tense power bnce.

    The new arrival, Madame''s Wraith, upset the bnce.

    Madame''s Wraith was the first to seek out the slot that held the Wraith of Cerberus, with whom it had never gotten along with regarding simr territory.

    [grrrr...]

    The Wraith of Cerberus, who had long upied the first slot of the Red Ball, bared its teeth at Madame''s intrusion.

    As a Wraith, Cerberus still remembers the humiliation of being stripped of his territory by Madame and banished to the Seventh Ridge.

    But the hierarchy of the Wraith world is generally not much different from that of the living.

    Madame was vicious as a Wraith.

    [Cackle! Cackle!]

    As in life, Madame took Cerberus''s territory and set up a nest in its ce.

    <Binge Fly ''Beelzebub''> / Awl

    -1 slot: Venomous-Madame Eight-Legged (S)

    Slot -2: Silent Hill �C Monsieur Hushu (A+)

    Slot -3: Super Regeneration �C Swamp Smander (A+)

    Finally, Beelzebub''s first slot changed owners.

    The passive skill that Vikir gained from it was Venom, a poison so concentrated that there was nothing in the world that could match it.

    It flowed into Vikir''s body and soon dissolved into his red blood.

    While harmless to Vikir himself, it would probably be a deadly poison to others.

    Meanwhile.

    Madame was still fleeing at this moment, frantically shaking the ground.

    Despite the fact that part of her soul had be a wraith and fallen prey to Beelzebub, she was still minimally conscious and attempting to escape.

    Perhaps it was because her brain had been shattered into many pieces.

    Vikir had tried to hold on with his sword in Madame''s back pack, but he could not help her fading consciousness.

    He hadn''t eaten or slept since his recent climb, and his body had beenpletely rebuilt nearly twice, so he had every reason to be sapped of stamina.

    This was especially true now that he had released an aura that had burned through every blood vessel in his body.

    A normal swordsman would have been dead or crippled by now.

    Thump-thump-thump

    From beyond my fading consciousness, I hear the howling of a beast.

    "...If it''s a pack of dogs, we''re in trouble.

    What other creature in the world would dare to approach this ce when Madame Eight-Legged was exuding poisonous energy?" ... Vikir was not in a rxed enough state to think about that.

    Eventually.

    Shuffle!

    Vikir copsed on top of Madame''s corpse.

    ....

    Sleep took an awful long time, or maybe just a moment.

    In the darkness behind his eyelids, he recognizes many faces.

    Many faces I''d left behind during my journey through the Age of Destruction, and those I''d met since my return.

    Faces of Chihuahua, Sindhiwendi, Pomeranian, Aqu, Camus, Aiyen, Dolores, Barrymore, and others rise and fall to the surface without a sound.

    Faces from Baskerville, faces from Underdog City, faces from the dephts, faces from Quovadis Street, faces from all over the ce, one after the other, without any connection.

    Among them were the faces of Hugo and Ahheman.

    The moment.

    "...!"

    Vikir scrambled to his feet.

    How many days, hours, minutes, or seconds had passed?

    He sees a shadowy silhouette hovering over his still-warm body.

    He waits for his vision to clear a little more, and then he feels a warm tongue licking his face.

    It was Baqira, the wolf, peering into Vikir''s face.

    And next to it, he could see the face of his constantpanion.

    Aiyen.

    She sat down next to Vikir, looking like she was about to burst into tears.

    "Oh my God, Vikir! Are you awake! Can you see me? Hey! Ahun! Over here! Over here!"

    " Vikir! You''re alive! I''ll get you some medicine right away!"

    "Poison! Wash off the poison! Take him to the vige!"

    The world is silent, except for the slow twitching of Aiyen''s mouth, his blurred vision, and the familiar faces gathering around him.

    "...Is this a dream?

    With that thought, Vikir cked outpletely.

 Chapter 101: Nostalgia (2)

    <h4>Chapter 101: Nostalgia (2)</h4>

    Vikir opened his eyes.

    He had slept soundly, without a single nightmare.

    He usually slept half-awake, bracing himself for an attack or some other misceneous disaster, but this time he slept soundly and defenselessly, as if he were truly dead.

    Of course, when I woke up, the wounds on my body had healed nicely.

    This was partly due to the regenerative powers of the bog smander, but also because all sorts of good medicines had healed my body from the inside out.

    "...?"

    Vikir scrambled to his feet.

    He was covered in fluffy fur pelts on a bed of dry straw and a clean cotton quilt.

    Herbs and various splints wrapped around his body.

    Inside, theyout of the room was vaguely familiar, like something from one of Bk''s barracks.

    He nced down and saw that the room''s owner was asleep at Vikir''s feet.

    It was Aiyen.

    Vikir opened his mouth to speak in Moorish.

    "...Are you awake?"

    A voice came from the barracks entrance.

    Aqu. The night fox stared down at Vikir.

    She had aged quite a bit in the few days he hadn''t seen her.

    Her cheeks were sunken and shadows under her eyes.

    The years she had been suppressing by force all this time were flowing again.

    Aqu sat down beside Vikir''s bed and nced over at Aiyen, who slept beside her.

    "Aiyen, this one carried you when you fainted. He ran for three days and three nights."

    And that''s why Aiyen, who hadn''t eaten or slept for days and had run with all his might, now slept at Vikir''s feet.

    "...."

    Vikir was silent for a moment, looking down at Aiyen as he slept, curled up between his toes.

    Then Aqu turned to Vikir.

    "What the hell happened to you?"

    Vikir hesitated for a moment, then spoke.

    " I tried to kill Madame...."

    Madame''splete death. Vikir hadn''t seen it through to the end. That''s why he only spoke of what came before.

    "I didn''t think I would be able to ovee it with my own strength, so I dropped it to the bottom of the peak and barely won. Of course, it was quite difficult to drag him out of the deep hole and push him down the cliff... ... It''s just that I was lucky. It''s just a pity that I couldn''t definitely cut off Madame''s breath."

    Vikir spoke casually, but this was actually quite remarkable.

    After all these years of tormenting the natives of Depht, the Madame had finally been defeated by a young hero.

    Now the natives no longer had to make sacrifices.

    They could use the light at their disposal in the dark of night, and they no longer had to tremble with fear during stormy nights.

    This was enough for him to be hailed as the savior of all the tribes on the depht.

    As Aqu listened to Vikir''s tale, he remained silent in amazement.

    Then she told him what he had been wondering.

    "After you fainted, Madame managed to flee the scene. Bk''s warriors followed you, but the poison in the air was too much for them to approach, and it was all they could do to rescue you."

    Whether she intended to or not, Madame had sprayed deadly poison everywhere as she fled.

    The fog of poison they created as they vtilized made it impossible for the warriors and wolves to finally cut off her breath.

    But.

    Aqu said with a determined look.

    "But Madame would be dead by now."

    When Vikir turned his head away, Aqu insisted.

    "She can neverst long with that wound."

    He was right. Madame''s entire body was crushed, and she had lost many vital organs.

    Her vital internal organs, such as her heart, spleen, lungs, and intestines, all protruded out of her body and sagged to the ground, and her exoskeleton was shattered.

    Her skull had even split open, tearing her brain into several pieces, making it extremely unlikely that Madame would survive.

    There was a reason Aqu was so certain.

    "Moreover. The ce Madame fled to is known for being the coldest ce in the world, even under the dephts. It''s icy there, even in July, and a body that''s so emaciated can''t survive the harsh climate there."

    In other words. Madame will either die from her injuries, starve from immobility, or freeze to death in the icy cold.

    No matter how you look at it, there is no other fate for Madame than death.

    Thus, Bikir became the hero of the entire region for killing Madame.

    "Hero, you speak too highly of me."

    Vikir shook his head in humility, and Aqu smiled dryly.

    "Is this still too much praise?"

    As she spoke, Aqu swept aside the curtain at the barracks entrance.

    And then.

    "...!"

    Vikir couldn''t help but open his eyes wide.

    Outside the barracks, an enormous crowd had gathered, at first nce, four figures in size.

    They were all kneeling, eyes closed, hands sped together in prayer.

    "We want Vikir, the hero of the depht, to get well. Please send our prayers to...."

    Bk, Rococo, Renaissance, all the big tribes of Depht, as well as smaller tribes with appearances and attire you''ve never seen before.

    They prayed in different ways, but their requests were the same.

    With one heart and one mind, they surrounded Vikir''s barracks and offered sacrifices.

    And then.

    Whoa, whoa, whoa!

    At the sight of the awakened Vikir, they stamped their feet, raised their voices, and let out a roar of joy.

    The entire tribe was united under Vikir''s aplishment.

    * * *

    That night.

    The whole series of processes and events came to a sobering end.

    The all-night feast of eating, drinking, and merriment, and the memorial service for the dead, ended simultaneously.

    Survivors drink and get drunk in a sense of mission, sadness, relief or joy, and make new resolutions.

    And when it was all over, the night fell silent.

    "...."

    Vikir closed his eyes and checked his body.

    ''I have it back. Back to my prime before the regression.''

    Deep inside him, he could feel his aura bubbling and boiling.

    It''s so dense that it''s now more like a solid than a liquid.

    It is the peak of the Graduator, a state that Vikir had reached before his regression.

    Added to that was a higher level of Baskerville-style swordsmanship.

    The sixth tooth he''d drawn against Madame.

    And before he knew it, another, smaller tooth had sprouted behind it.

    The Baskerville Seventh.

    The seventh tooth, beyond carnivorous.

    Vikir''s struggle with the Madame resulted in the production of a seventh tooth, albeit a small one.

    He doesn''t know why, but it''s a natural consequence of his deepening understanding of martial arts in times of crisis.

    He has fully regained thebat prowess he had before his regression, and has even acquired the 7th Baskerville.

    Considering that Vikir''s swordsmanship before his regression was only 4 tooth, and the current patriarch of the Baskerville family, Hugo le Baskerville, was 7 dan, this was quite an achievement.

    "But Hugo is a Swordmaster."

    Even if they had the same level of swordsmanship, Hugo is a master.

    Vikir was a top Graduator, but he hadn''t yet broken through the Master''s barrier.

    ''... Still, I''ve achieved at seventeen what I didn''t reach until I was forty, so I''ve got a long way to go.''

    If anyone else knew this, they would faint.

    Not even the greatest swordmasters of House Baskerville, who were said to have the best equipment in history, could aplish this.

    Moreover, Vikir was confident that even if he were to go one-on-one with the Swordmaster, he would not be easily overpowered.

    "If it''s not a duel, but a life-or-death fight, then it''s not like we don''t have a chance....

    Vikir''s eyes shone as he pictured Hugo''s face in his mind.

    At the same time, the sword Beelzebub, much longer than before, drew its de from the artery in his wrist.

    ...Puddle!

    The red pattern engraved on the hilt was even more ominous than before.

    The reason is...

    <Binge Fly ''Beelzebub''> / Awl

    -1 slot: Venomous -Madame Eight-Legged (S)

    -Slot 2: Silent Hill �C Monsieur Hushu (A+)

    Slot -3: Super Regeneration �C Swamp Smander (A+)

    The newest addition to the group is a giant wraith.

    Madame Eightlegs.

    Since a portion of her soul became a wraith and possessed Beelzebub, this already dangerous weapon has be even more deadly.

    Extremely poisonous.

    It was imbued with Madame''s fearsome malice, capable of killing in the smallest doses.

    For a moment, Vikir studied this product of Madame''s killing.

    Then. Suddenly, Vikir''s mind wandered elsewhere.

    "Come to think of it, what about...?

    Vikir''s gaze fell to the bosom of the ck cloak he was wearing.

    He slipped his hand into the pocket and felt what he expected.

    One soft little ball.

    Thisrge ck ball bobbed gently in Vikir''s hand.

    It was the egg that Madame Eight-Legged hadid.

    During the battle, Madame Eight-Legged had regained her health by eating her eggs, one by one, and this was thest one she had left.

    Vikir scrambled to pick it up.

    "I saw it fall and picked it up, but I didn''t think it would survive the impact of the fall....

    The egg was quite durable after all.

    No matter how many times I hit it with my fist, it bounces back without breaking because it is so stic.

    The others didn''t know what this ck egg was, so they left it alone for now....

    "Hmm, do you think it will hatch?"

    Now that it had left its mother''s arms, there was a good chance that even if it was a healthy egg, it wouldn''t hatch properly.

    It could have been a fertile egg in the first ce, or it could have been damaged inside.

    For now, Vikir kept the egg in his arms.

    Maybe one day it could be used for research.

    ''...I must leave now.''

    Vikiry down in a heap of straw.

    He''d seen, heard, and done a lot in thest two years here in Depht.

    He had gained experiences that he would never forget.

    I''ve regained my pre-Regressionbat strength, and I''ve learned many important things.

    But we can''t live here forever.

    I still had a lot of work to do before I could return.

    ''...Someday, when I''m done with all my ns, I''ll be able toe back here.''

    Just as Vikir was thinking about his future ns.

    Thump-thump-thump.

    Someone knocked on the barracks'' insignia.

    The next moment, someone entered the barracks where Vikir was lying.

    Whirring.

    A dewy night breeze enters and blows out the candles in the barracks.

    "...?"

    Vikir stared at the shadowy figure beyond the darkness.

    Aiyen.

    She was staring down at Vikir, her back to the ck night sky, a gxy of countless stars.

    ...?

    "Vikir."

    Aiyen''s voice is more serious than ever as she calls out to Vikir.

    She was always reticent and serious, but... today, for some reason, she was wearing an unusually reserved expression.

    And then.

    Aiyen stepped closer to Vikir.

    And said in a low voice

    "Will you ... help me?"

 Chapter 102: Nostalgia (3)

    <h4>Chapter 102: Nostalgia (3)</h4>

    Help me? What, at thiste hour of the night?

    Vikir raised his upper body. There was nothing covering his upper body beneath the nkets.

    Aiyen stared at him.

    "Vakira."

    "Vakira?"

    Vikir looked puzzled.

    Vakira was a wolf who had grown up with Aiyen from a very young age.

    She had always wondered how simr they were to Vikir, perhaps because they had simr names, and their blunt personalities.

    Aiyen looked into Vikir''s eyes and said.

    "I think it''s time to give Vakira a mate."

    "Is that so?"

    "Yes. All males should have a mate when they are old enough."

    Aiyen was silent for a moment as he spoke.

    Then, in a small voice, he added

    " ...and so should the females."

    Vikir''s brow creased at her words.

    Vikir knew that Vakira was in heat.

    It wasn''t just her, it was all wolves.

    Wolves are in estrus all the time for males, but for females, ites about twice a year, every seven to eight months.

    Their vulvas often swell and release a bloody discharge, andtely, both male and female wolves have been keeping me awake at night, howling at the sky.

    Vikir asked.

    "But what do you want me to help you with?"

    Aiyen nodded and answered.

    "Do you remember how badly Vakira was hurt during Madame''s attack?"

    "I know. That''s when her right leg...."

    "Right, that''s because of Madame''s poison."

    Aiyen sighed lightly and continued.

    "Vakira became a one-legged man. Not even the forelimbs, but the hind legs do that, so they can''t mate properly."

    "...I see."

    In the Canidae family, mating is impossible without one hind leg. They can''t bnce themselves.

    It was clear that without artificial help, Baqira would die out naturally.

    Aiyen said.

    "I want to help Vakira, can you help me?"

    "...How can I help?"

    Vikir said, dusting himself off and getting to his feet.

    Then Aiyen grinned, his face like the color of the moon.

    * * *

    With that, Aiyen led Vikir out of the barracks.

    After passing through the vige fence and wading a bit into the water, they came to an open meadow.

    There, standing on three legs, was Bakira, breathing heavily.

    And in front of him, a familiar wolf.

    It was a young female who often apanied Vakira on his hunts and when he returned from them.

    Aiyen looked at Vakira in the distance and spoke.

    "''Vakira used to be the idol of all the female wolves in the vige. He was big, He was a good hunter, and his fur was lustrous."

    But after Madame''s attack, everything went to hell.

    Vakira lost her right hind leg, leaving her unable to hunt.

    But despite this, the female was still interested in him.

    "...You know the seeds are fine."

    At Aiyen''s words, Vikir remembered her words from the oxbear hunt.

    "The Bk warriors'' criteria for choosing a mate is much like the oxbears. An individual with good seed, but young, and if she is wounded and weak, all the better."

    Meanwhile, Vakira moaned softly at the female who hade around her and nuzzled her face.

    She licked her tongue carefully over the female''s body.

    The female licked her fur in return.

    Then they wrapped their bodies around each other in the moonlight.

    Vakira moved behind her and ced her forelegs on her back.

    But then.

    ...thud!

    One of the legs to support the back is missing, so it just falls to the side.

    The female waited patiently with her eyes closed, even as she licked her nose repeatedly with her tongue.

    Vakira stood up and climbed back onto the female''s body, but this time, without a hind leg, he lost his bnce.

    Aiyen, watching from afar, narrowed her eyes.

    "He''s been like that since yesterday."

    "...."

    Vikir nodded, too.

    He could see what Aiyen was worried about.

    Next, Vikir and Aiyen approached Vakira.

    Aiyen limped on her right leg, which had been grazed by Adonai''s poisoned arrow.

    And Vakira, her friend, staggers, having lost her right leg to the Madame.

    "Get up and try again."

    Aiyen says to Vakira.

    Vakira didn''t seem too bothered by Vikir and Ayen''s approach.

    That''s what it means to be a trusted colleague.

    The female was still waiting patiently behind them.

    Vakira climbed up behind her again.

    Aiyen had cut down a log to make a prosthetic leg.

    But Vakira''s movements were too violent for the prosthetic.

    Eventually, Vikir had to hold his lower body to support his weight, and Aiyen had to press the female''s hips and legs against his prosthetic to help him get into the right position.

    Aiyen pped Vakira in frustration.

    "You idiot! The other side has a mind too, so be more aggressive! Push more! More! You''re a male, you''re supposed to be stronger!"

    As she yelled, Vakira''s movements changed slightly.

    The female also became more cooperative and receptive.

    Eventually, with a scream, the female''s purpose was fulfilled.

    It''s a full moon night. Aiyen and Vikir stand below a female wolf and a male wolf making love.

    Vakira and the female wolf clung to each other, unwilling to be separated.

    And Vikir and Aiyen had to hold them together.

    Then.

    Vakira jerked away.

    Only a few minutes had passed, but Vakira had gotten off the female''s back and was trying to turn around.

    Vikir sounded dejected.

    "Is it over already? I just put it on."

    "No. Watch."

    Aiyen shook her head.

    True to her word, the vakira was falling off the female''s body, but it wasn''t.

    Vakira turned around and butted up against the female.

    It was a unique way for wolves to mate.

    It was only after this change in position that Vikir and Aiyen were able to pull away from the two wolves.

    Vakira and the female were now well on their way.

    Neither Vikir nor Aiyen said a word to each other as they watched the wolves'' harsh breathing.

    "...."

    "...."

    There was an awkward air between them.

    After a few minutes like that.

    Vakira was finally separated from the female.

    It is Mother Nature''s providence that if there is a union, there is a separation.

    So there was no need to be ashamed of the rtionship, or regretful about the separation.

    They were part of the natural order of things, as natural as the wind blowing, the rain wetting, the sun spinning, the sea surrounding, and thend connecting.

    Vakiray on her belly on the cool grassy floor.

    It must have consumed a lot of stamina to stick out your tongue and gasp for not being able to sweat.

    The femaley beside him, her eyes zed over.

    " ... That''s it."

    Vikir and Aiyen pulled away from Vakira.

    Vakira and the female wolf remained in the meadow, nuzzling each other''s faces.

    Vikir and Aiyen walked back to the vige, leaving the two newly married wolves behind.

    It was just beginning to fog up the dawn.

    "...Thank you."

    "...You too."

    Vikir waved off Aiyen''s thanks.

    There was a lingering sense of awkwardness in the conversation.

    It hadn''t happened in the past two years.

    With that, Vikir walked back into the barracks.

    He''d been nning to leave, but the thought of it made him feel sick.

    The dampness of the barracks in the early morning light felt both familiar and foreign.

    Vikiry down on his straw bunk, but after a while, he couldn''t sleep. Perhaps he would have to see the sun rise before he could sleep.

    Just then.

    A rustle.

    The sound of something moving outside the barracks door.

    I look up and see a pale shadow peeking over the curtain.

    I can just make out the silhouette now.

    Aiyen. For some reason, she hasn''t gone to her own barracks, but is standing in front of Vikir''s, hesitating over something.

    "...?"

    Vikir considers asking what''s going on, but decides against it.

    He was tired from helping Vakira mate, and he figured that if she needed anything else, she''d just barge in like she always did.

    But.

    Aiyen just stood there in front of Vikir''s barracks for what seemed like an eternity afterward.

    .... .... ....

    After what seemed like an eternity, the shadows slowly thinned.

    "Was it an illusion?

    Vikir peered over the veil through closed eyelids.

    The dawn dew slowly dried in the distant morning light. The shadow of Aiyen on the banner had vanishedpletely.

    Vikir was already asleep.

 Chapter 103: Nostalgia (4)

    <h4>Chapter 103: Nostalgia (4)</h4>

    It has been two months since Madame Eight Legs disappeared.

    Vakira had be a father.

    Five wolf pups nurse in their mother''s arms, a peaceful sight.

    Meanwhile.

    "...."

    Vikir watched the female wolf nurse her pups.

    A ck ball was wedged between the squirming pups.

    The egg of Madame Eightlegs. It looked like arge ck pearl, but it was smooth and soft to the touch.

    Vikir had been trying to get the wolves to hold this egg for the past two months, just in case.

    But the wolves'' warmth and care hadn''t made any difference to the egg.

    The only thing that has changed is that the newborn puppies keep nibbling on the soft, fluffy egg and smearing it with their saliva.

    Vikir realized that further experiments with Madame''s eggs were pointless, and he prepared to embark on his long journey once more.

    Back to the Empire. And back to Baskerville.

    The return of the Ironblooded Hound.

    It was time to return to where he came from.

    When Vikir announced his departure from Bk''s vige, not only did Bk''s warriors send envoys, but so did all the nearby tribes.

    Aqu did not stop Vikir when he dered his intention to leave. He was not a ve, so why stop him?

    Once you''re family, you''re always family, and even if you''re separated by great distances, your ties grow stronger, not weaker.

    However, Aqu invited the envoys from each tribe who had gathered to bid Vikir farewell and held a grand banquet to decorate the celebration.

    Everyone at the banquet loved and respected Vikir.

    But no one said "see you" or "see you again" to him.

    "There are no such words in the Bknguage."

    Aqu didn''t even say anything to Vikir about looking forward to their next meeting.

    "See you again" does not exist in the Bknguage.

    They believe that once a rtionship is formed, it is never broken, and that it transcends time and ce.

    They were together even when they were apart.

    That''s why they don''t expect to say goodbye.

    Aqu spoke to Vikir in a warm voice.

    "''Whenever and wherever you are. You are a Bk hunter. And you are part of our family. Do not forget that."

    Vikir was silent for a moment.

    For some reason, he felt something hot and ticklish stirring in the deepest recesses of his chest.

    For the first time, a feeling of belonging settled in Vikir''s heart that he hadn''t felt in any other ce since his return.

    It was almost as if leaving Depht and returning to Baskerville was like leaving home and going to a strange ce.

    Aqu continued.

    "You are a proud Bk warrior, and a hero to all of Dephts. If you are in trouble, we will help you to the best of our ability, no matter where you are or who you are up against."

    It wasn''t just the warriors of Bk who responded to Aqu''s words.

    All the native tribes of the Depht, from the shamanic Rococo to the berserker Renaissance, cheered Aqu''s words and encouraged Vikir.

    "Our hero, call us anytime, we''lle to your aid!"

    "Think of us sometimes! We love you!"

    "Awesome, Vikir! Go back and take over the empire!"

    "May the path of a hero be filled with only blessings..."

    Most of all, the young men of Bk, with whom I had cried,ughed, and slept for the past two years, were the most sad to see Vikir go.

    Ahun was the worst of all. He was reduced to tears.

    He thumped his chest like a gori and shouted.

    "Vikir, you cane back anytime! We''ll be here waiting for you! And if you have any problems, you can always call us!"

    "Brother Vikir. You have to write to me often, you have to, or else I''m going to...."

    Beside him, Ahul, who had grown much taller by now, looked at Vikir with a moist gaze.

    She handed the departing Vikir a lunchbox wrapped in leaves, having grown so much in the past two years that she could hardly be considered 15 years old.

    Inside was a skewer of creamy caterpirs, a precious food.

    Vikir''s dry smile curved the corners of his mouth.

    He couldn''t rememberughing much before or after his regression, but here in Depht, heughed a lot.

    He hadughed more in four months here than he had in forty years in his previous life.

    "Farewell, Vikir, our hero!"

    Without a ''see youter'', the warriors of Bk wave to Vikir with a mixture of amusement and regret in their eyes.

    And then.

    Vikir left the depht he had been fond of in the midst of everyone''s farewell.

    ....

    ...No.

    Not all of them.

    Vikir searched the crowd for a face, but never found it.

    Aiyen.

    For some reason, she hadn''t shown up in town since she''d heard Vikir say he was leaving town.

    She didn''t even show up for Vikir''s farewell ceremony.

    Everyone was puzzled because she usually followed Vikir wherever he went.

    "...It can''t be right."

    Vikir stood outside the vige, nced back at the empty Aiyen barracks, and stood there for a few seconds.

    Then he turned on his heel and walked away from his beloved Bk vige.

    His steps in the direction of the border of the depht were weak for the first few steps, but then they began to pick up steam.

    It''s really time to go home now.

    * * *

    Vikir soon left the edge of the depht.

    Standing on a high rocky peak, he could see a familiar citadel ahead.

    The Crimson Castle.

    It was a mining fortress built by the mages of Morg, to mine the rubies of Red Awl Mountain.

    Massive earthen walls, wooden fences, and stone buildings rose crudely but majestically.

    It had apparently been hardened over the past two years to keep the natives at bay.

    And of endless veins of crimson ruby, with dark clouds gathering in swirls above.

    Thendscape still bathed in the ominous colors of red and ck.

    "...still mining rubies?"

    Vikir walked slowly toward Morg''s citadel.

    He was returning after two years.

    Suddenly, he remembered the face of Morg Camus, the former head of the ce. Was she still there?

    If she had grown up well, she would be a mature woman now, seventeen years old and well within the marriageable age.

    But that was the life of a cordinary noble families, and a Camus born into the noble society of Morg was quite different.

    ''So, when are you entering the academy? Let''s keep up with me. I''m probably going to get early admission by a year or two. It would be so much fun if we could be first years together....''

    Suddenly, I remembered how two years ago, she had followed me around and nagged me.

    "Did I tell you that I was thinking of applying for early admission to the Academy?"

    Two years ago, when she was 15, she had already said that she was thinking about early admission to the Academy, so maybe she was already there.

    ''You must have forgotten about me.''

    At 17, you''re a grown up.

    An eight-year-old crush would be nothing more than a shy, fading memory.

    Vikir smiled dryly and headed out into the wilderness. The wind blew through the cotton fields.

    ... Just then.

    "Hey, ve!"

    A voice called out to Vikir from behind.

    Turning his head, Vikir saw a silver-ck-haired, pointy-eared woman, just turned neen, staring at him.

    Aiyen. She stood with her back to the cotton wind, her eyes red with tears.

    "Are you going?"

    "...."

    "Really?"

    Aiyen asked in a deep voice, and Vikir responded with silence.

    Then Aiyen stepped in front of him.

    " ... If you''re going to go, take this with you."

    Vikir''s eyes widened as he saw Aiyen reach out a trembling hand and give it to him.

    "!"

    It was arge bow. It was a ck bow with a dark light all over it.

    A giant bow that Adonai had used in the past.

    There was even a bowstring that had never existed.

    Vikir realized that the white, tough string on the ck bow was made from the tanned silk of Madame Eight-Legged Spider''s web.

    The same tough spring from which Madame had made and stored her webs had be the string, making the ck bow aplete unit.

    ''Anubis'', the strongest bow in Bk''s history, has finally regained its perfect form.

    ''... I''m sorry I''ve been missing all this time making it.''

    Vikir thought to himself as he looked down at the ck Bow.

    ... Thud!

    Aiyen puts something around Vikir''s neck.

    A small ck ne.

    It is a choker, an object made from the tough hide of an oxbear.

    This oxbear was the first catch Aiyen and Vikir had made together.

    Aiyen put the ne around Vikir''s neck and spoke in his native voice.

    " ... Don''t ever let go of this thing. Anywhere."

    "Understood."

    Vikir nodded, then looked down at Aiyen.

    Aiyen looked back up at Vikir.

    "...."

    "...."

    Their positions have changed a lot in the past two years.

    When they first met, Aiyen looked down at Vikir and gave him orders.

    Now, it''s Aiyen who can barely make eye contact with Vikir.

    She was a head taller than him then, but now she''s a head shorter.

    Vikir, who had grown much taller, turned to Aiyen and said.

    "You''ve gotten a lot shorter."

    It was her own joke, her own code for breaking the ice.

    But Aiyen didn''t respond to suchme jokes.

    Just.

    Mmm.

    She walks in with a swift stride.

    Pow!

    A fistnds on Vikir''s stomach.

    Vikir, who was hit in the stomach out of nowhere, swallows a groan and bends over.

    ... Thud!

    Aiyen immediately grabs the choker around Vikir''s neck.

    The next thing you know, Vikir is being dragged forward by the leash in Aiyen''s grasp.

    And then.

    "...!"

    The moment when Vikir, bent at the waist, and Aiyen, choker in hand, are exactly the same height.

    Their lips met at the exact same height and pressed together.

    ....

    A second, like an eternity.

    How much time had passed.

    Aiyen pushed hard against Vikir''s chest.

    She turned her back to Vikir, who had stopped breathing.

    "... ... see you again."

    It was still an imperfect imperialnguage.

 Chapter 104: The Returned Hero (1)

    <h4>Chapter 104: The Returned Hero (1)</h4>

    The Red Salt Castle.

    Surrounded by earthen walls and tall watchtowers, it is a massive man-made fortress built by the wizards of Morg.

    Mines were being developed above, with veins of crimson ruby running through them.

    The dark night. Vikir climbed over a massive earthen wall and entered the inner court.

    He could see men in guard uniforms passing beneath the protruding steel and rocky ridges.

    With a soundless movement characteristic of the Mushuhushu, Vikir melted into the shadows and scaled the wall, sliding down the iron frame.

    Soon, the interior of the Red Salt Castle unfolded.

    The streets were drenched with rain. Dappled light leaked through the dark alleyways.

    Vikir headed down the alley in search of an inn to stay out of the rain tonight.

    Then.

    "...?"

    Vikir spotted something towering above the buildings on the other side of the alley.

    It was a statue,rge and majestic enough to be seen clearly in the darkness and rain.

    It was a massive sculpture of a figure standing tall, looking out over the depht to the west, perhaps made entirely of gold.

    The golden glow from the lower part of the figure made the surroundings seem illuminated.

    However, the upper part of its face was dark and hard to see.

    "...What''s the point of putting something like that up there?"

    Vikir paused for a moment.

    The statue hadn''t been there since he left the fortress two years ago.

    Even if this was Morg''snd, it was still essentially owned by the Baskervilles, so there would have to be a bteral agreement for such a symbolic sculpture to be built.

    Moreover, it''s a statue of great magnificence, with its entire body glittering with gold, so who could it be?

    Vikir approached the statue cautiously.

    Just as he was about to find out who had built such a golden statue to honor.

    "Hey, get the hell out of here!"

    One of the guards waved at Vikir.

    Apparently, there were some rats trying to nibble at the golden statue''s gold.

    "This statue is a monument erected by the Morg, in honor of the heroes who defended the Red Salt Castle! Do not approach it, only view it from a distance!"

    At the overly vignt guard''s words, Vikir backed away.

    He couldn''t afford to argue with the guard. He''d be pretty tired if they found out who he was.

    "Even if I''ve been forgotten by everyone for two years... still, there''s no point in causing trouble."

    Not curious enough about the statue''s identity to take a closer look, Vikir quickly turned into the alley.

    He was going to find an inn and get some rest.

    * * *

    Eventually, Vikir entered the tavern.

    The floor was drenched with rainwater and smeared with a messy mixture of dirt and charred footprints.

    The heat was sweltering, contrasting with the cold breeze from the street, and the moisture blinded Vikir''s eyes.

    The smells of roasting meat, boiling fish, clinking beer sses, and loud shouts andughter filled the air.

    Vikir takes a seat.

    Then a ss of hot rum and three skewers of salted turkey brine are plopped down in front of him.

    As the waitress turns away in an unfriendly manner, Vikir raises his hand.

    "I didn''t order this...."

    "Hey, this is a basic drink."

    Vikir''s words were answered by a man with a brushy beard who walked up and sat down next to him.

    Bikir lifted his hood, and looked sideways.

    The bushy-bearded man squinted at him.

    "I saw you in the alley earlier, didn''t I?"

    It was the security guard who had just yelled at Vikir.

    "Wahahaha! I''m sorry I yelled at you earlier, but I''m doing what I do, and I''m on a mission. I can''t help but be sensitive when I''m on guard."

    He patted Vikir on the shoulder andughed.

    The sight of Vikir''s physique, probably in histe teens, made him rx his guard.

    Vikir merely shook his head.

    "... I understand."

    The security guard raised his hand as if he liked what he saw and called for an attendant.

    Then he looked out the window at the golden statue in the distance.

    "Whatever, you understand. It''s our job to guard the statue honoring ''him'', not the other way around."

    "Him?"

    Vikir repeated, and the guard sounded excited.

    "Yes. The hero who saved the Red Salt Castle two years ago. It was because of him that we survived the great barbarian invasion, and even the wizards of Morg and the swordsmen of Baskerville."

    "...?"

    Vikir scratched his head.

    The story was new to him, too.

    "Was there such a hero?"

    Wasn''t it two years ago, before he disappeared? Was there a massive barbarian invasion then, and was there someone powerful enough to protect Baskerville and Morg?

    Everything is questionable.

    Vikir was digging through his memories, trying to recall the names of heroes he might have forgotten.

    "hey! I''m going to buy a drink for my little friend here, so hurry up and get your order! shit! Did you boil and eat a tortoise leg?"

    The guard grabbed the unfriendly waiter by the back of the head and ordered some salt and pepper pork for himself and a bottle of rum.

    The guard looked back at Vikir and asked.

    "What do you want to drink, kid, I''m buying you something because I feel bad about yelling at you earlier."

    "Then I''ll have a rum too...."

    "Wahahaha, by the sound of your voice, you sound like a child, no rum, just a ss of milk, warm it up!"

    The guard shooed the waiter away into the kitchen.

    The men at the other table, dressed in the same uniform as the guard, chuckled.

    "Hey, you talking about ''him'' again!"

    "Well, I''m busy spreading the legend of ''Him'' whenever I see a stranger, right?"

    "Well, I can understand that. He''s the reason we''re still alive."

    "That''s right, we can''t praise ''Him'' enough, can you?"

    The guards chattered away.

    When Vikir remained hooded and silent, the guard next to him spoke up.

    "Whoa, whoa, whoa. You''re a foreigner, but you should know. ''His'' fame and aplishments resonate far beyond the underdog city below, across Baskerville''s territory, and even into the Empire!"

    "...."

    "s, are you speechless with amazement? How can a hero''s tale of heroism, from such a remote little ce as this, shake the entire Empire?"

    "...."

    "Yes, I know, but it''s true, and my cousin, who recently traveled to the Yellow City, can testify to that. How well ''he'' is regarded in the Empire''s society circles now."

    The guard took a long gulp of rum, then spoke with a gaping face.

    "It''s been two years, and I can still remember that day, the thrill, the chills, the goosebumps!"

    " ...Hmm. Apparently there was a great hero two years ago."

    Vikir shook his head, and the room erupted inughter.

    The guards at the back table raised their sses of beer, vodka, and whiskey high in the air.

    "Wahahaha! You don''t know ''Him''! Are you a spy! Well, when you hear of ''Him'', even a lowly moron like you would say you''ve heard of Him somewhere."

    "Yes, indeed! ''He'' was so great that day, gantly chasing after the savages that no one else dared to pursue!"

    "He led an army of Morg and Baskervilles into the dark depths, can you believe it? Into the ck depths with those enemies, and at night, too! It was suicide! Ha ha, but ''He'' did it! Even the mighty Adolf was only a bridesmaid that day!"

    "Hey! Those are nothing! I''d be lying if I didn''t mention that He ughtered over a thousand fearsome barbarians in one fell swoop and rescued Morg''s frail Barren Jade Leaf! It was all thanks to ''Him'' that Morg''s youngdy, who was poisoned to death, was able to recover!"

    "Uh-huh! If you didn''t see it, shut up! Do you know of His valor as He single-handedly charged a giant, unidentified monster that appeared out of nowhere? I saw His final act with my own two eyes as He threw Himself into the fray to ensure the safe retreat of the Morg and Baskerville allies!"

    ...?

    Vikir sensed that something was strange going on.

    The hero who had ughtered so many barbarians in one fell swoop.

    The chivalry that had saved Morg''s frail, Barren Jade Leaf only daughter.

    A Holy Sacrifice, who fought bravely against a giant monster, buying the Alliance time to flee.

    "That great hero who was here with us only two years ago, whose name is...!"

    The guard leapt to his feet and lifted hisntern to shine out the window.

    There, just beyond the darkness, the face of a golden statue was visible, illuminated by the moonlight peeking out of the clouds.

    At the sight of the majestic hero, all the guards eximed.

    "''Vi!"

    " Ki!"

    At the same time, countless guards turned their gazes toward Vikir.

    If they didn''t recognize him by now, they would throw stones at him.

    Eventually, Vikir answered.

    "...R?"

    Then all the guards chimed in.

    "Look, you know who it is, Vikir van Baskerville!"

    The golden statue that towered over the central za of Red Salt Castle was in Vikir''s image.

 Chapter 105: The Returned Hero (2)

    <h4>Chapter 105: The Returned Hero (2)</h4>

    "Come on, let us celebrate! you too, join us!"

    "We always show our appreciation for Lord Vikir''s statue like this at night."

    "He is the reason we survived the attack that day ,we survived because he stopped that giant beast!"

    "what''s happening my friend. you''re a peculiar young fe, you are heartless! put more energy into it! p harder! Come on, mate!"

    was said as the guards of the Red Salt Castle looked at Vikir''s statue and pped twelve times at mid-night on the hour.

    The passersby can tell the time by the sound of the guards'' pping.

    Vikir observed the faces of the guards who forced him to p, one by one.

    Around two years ago, in the Depth''s of the Red and ck Mountains. The faces of those who ran away from Madame Eight-legs.

    Some of them looked like the soldiers he''d seen then.

    The hairy man who served Vikir the ss of milk chuckled.

    "Anyway, if you don''t know Vikir''s name in this region then you''re a spy. Of course, it''s a bit of an exaggeration to say that the rumor has reached the other side of the world. Still, the rumors are true. If it''s not, why would the House of Morg have offered such arge amount of gold to honor his achievements?"

    It is said that every year, politicians and nobles from neighbouring citiese to pay their respects and perform ceremonies in front of the giant golden statue.

    Vikir sighed, pressing his hood deeper into his face.

    Sure, he''d achieved a lot in the depths two years ago, but most of his aplishments... had been grossly exaggerated.

    Not only did I kill thousands of natives in one fell swoop, but I also rescued the allied armies of Morgue and Baskerville, and even rescued Morg''s fragile (?) Barren Jade Leaf.

    To be clear, it was Adolf Morg who did the most damage that night.

    Vikir had merely lessened the amount of time for them catch up to the barbarians at night.

    ''..., though I did y the role of a martyr against Madame at the end.''

    Vikir sipped his milk and reminisced.

    ''Anyway. It was clear that all that was aplished by Morg Adolf ,and thebined forces of Morg and Baskerville armies that night were ,warped and twisted into the credit of one man, Vikir.

    Just as Vikir was trying to figure out how to make sense of this situation.

    Creak.

    Suddenly, the door to the inn burst open.

    The sound of the fish boiling, the smell of the skewers cooking in the salt, the heat of the porkrd sizzling, all of it vanished in an instant.

    The night breeze swept away the hot, thick and dirty air of the tavern.

    The night breeze came in the from behind of three women in long robes.

    With their thick eyebrows, catlike eyes, and beautiful features, the three women could be triplets.

    Upon seeing them, the guards rose to their feet in unison and saluted.

    "Loyalty, we greet themanders of the fortress!"

    Their change in posture drew Vikir''s attention.

    Vikir looked at the three women as they entered the tavern.

    "...!"

    He had seen them before, if he recalled correctly

    They were the Three Flowers of Morg, or the Three Misfortunes.

    Highsis, Midsis, and Lowsis.

    Specializing in grass, earth, and water magic, they walked up to the table with their distinctive red hair and sat down.

    The men''s eyes were momentarily dazed by their beauty, but they could not make a mistake.

    Neither could Vikir, especially because the triplets'' personalities were truly terrifying.

    "What were they talking about that was so funny?"

    "The obvious. It''s midnight, they''re probably pping again."

    "Were they talking about Mr. Vikir?"

    The guards answered the triplets'' question with a roar.

    "Yes, we were!"

    Then the eldest, Highsis,ughed as she grabbed the cold mug of beer in front of her.

    "Ho-ho-ho-it''s no wonder, for his aplishments are great, and I still get a thrill thinking about how I felt when I saw him that day."

    The rookie guards'' eyes sparkle at Highsis''s words.

    "Did you ever meet Him in person, Commander?"

    "Of course."

    Highsis and the other two sisters narrowed their eyes andughed.

    "When I first saw him, I thought he was just a pretty boy, but I got to know him during our time together in the fortress. I saw him for who he really was: someone incredibly kind and charismatic."

    Vikir, standing right next to her, could hardly believe his ears.

    He remembered his first encounter with them as less than pleasant.

    But for some reason, the sisters Highsis, Midsis, and Lowsis seemed to remember their time with Vikir as something truly beautiful.

    "He was wonderful. I honestly spent the whole time he was living in the fortress ogling him."

    "Though we only bumped into each other a few times in the mess hall."

    "We did see each other at the cotton field boundary, however, though we didn''t get a chance to have a long talk before the three Baskervilles interrupted us. If I''d known this was going to happen, I would have talked to him at a bit more."

    She took the guards aside and began to chatter.

    The woman who had been so unfriendly to them earlier noticed and politely served them drinks and snacks.

    Vikir sat alone at a distant table, listening carefully to the triplets'' story.

    He hoped to hear at least a little of what had been going on in Morg and Baskerville.

    The triplets were quite talkative, and Vikir was able to get plenty of information out of them.

    The changes since Vikir''s disappearance two years ago and the eventual deration if his death were astonishing.

    The most shocking was the number of times Hugo Les Baskerville had visited Morg in a furious rage.

    And that the Morg rewarded the Baskervilles diplomatically with an enormous amount of money.

    Despite this, Hugo Les Baskervilles did not relent in his anger.

    And finally, that only a few weeks ago, Morg Camus had personally led a search party through the depths of the Red and ck Mountains.

    Vikir had epted all of this with a grimace.

    Well, if Hugo was upset about his disappearance, it was because he''d lost a useful hound.

    And if he''s still angry, it''s because he thinks the reward given by the Morg''s is too small.

    The only thing that seems surprising is that Camus still hasn''t forgotten Vikir after two years.

    Until just a few weeks ago, she had been steadfastly leading a search party through the depths, and then she suddenly disappeared.

    ...Rumor has it, she''s gone into hiding deep within her family and gone into retirement?

    Whatever.

    The triplets told Vikir''s story, subtly bragging to the guards about their experiences and connections.

    "By the way, that golden statue over there doesn''t even capture half of Vikir''s true appearance. It''s a shame, because if he were still alive, he''d be a good match for me by now."

    "Who''s paired with whom? That''s ridiculous, if he were alive, I''d definitely be the one to pick him up."

    "Don''t fight, sisters. We''ll all get along, What man would turn down the three of us?"

    But then the triplets'' sisters all silence at once.

    "What''s the use of fighting, he''s already gone."

    A somber mood settled over the tavern for a moment.

    By this time, Vikir had gotten up and climbed the stairs to the second floor.

    He couldn''t wait to get to his room andy down.

    He was tired of listening to his own story, which was bing unfamiliar.

    Then.

    Unfortunately, out of the corner of her eye, Highsis caught sight of Vikir''s hood.

    "you there! Your outfit is suspicious. Get over here!"

    She wasn''t in the mood for a little teasing, so she immediately used the fortressmander''s powers to stop and search.

    Vikir paused in while moving up the stairs.

    If he took off his hood here, the atmosphere would be overwhelming.

    He considered pretending he hadn''t heard and continuing up the stairs, but that would only fuel Highsis''s foul temper.

    "Hey! Stop! Can''t you hear me?"

    The guard next to me spoke.

    "Miss. I bought this kid a ss of milk earlier... and he isn''t suspicious."

    "Shut up, at this time of night, the natives outside are strangely quiet, we should be more vignt!"

    Highsis leapt to her feet.

    He stretched out her hand towards Vikir.

    A powerful stream of mana swirled around Vikir.

    "Bind!"

    The wooden railings of the staircase creaked, and long vines grew around Vikir, trying to wrap around him.

    But.

    Whirik-

    Vikir flew out of the way easily, avoiding the grasp of vines.

    Highsis''s eyes widen at the sight, as do those of Midsis and Lowsis, and those who were standing behind them, looking impressed .

    The men of the guard beside him were so surprised that they spat out their drinks.

    They hadn''t expected him to be able to evade the magic of Morg''s three sisters so easily, especially since it came from Highsis, the strongest of the three.

    "...shit."

    Vikir sensed that things were getting troublesome.

    He thought about hiding in the night, but Morg''s trio were no match for him.

    The three sisters, Highsis, Midsis, and Lowsis, quickly rose to their feet and drew upon their magic.

    The guards, who had beenughing and talking a moment ago, also drew their swords, bows, staves, and magic, and surrounded Vikir with a sharp edge.

    "Who are you, remove your hood and reveal your identity!"

    Highsis shouted sharply.

    Vikir sighed softly.

    He might be able to escape, but it would turn the entire fortress upside down.

    He didn''t trust himself to escape without spilling blood.

    And it wasn''t as if he needed to wear a hood to disguise himself in the first ce.

    ''I''m on my way to inform Baskerville that I''m back anyway....''

    Whether Baskerville or Morg found out first was merely a matter of sequence.

    Eventually, Vikir obediently stopped and raised his hands.

    Then, under the watchful eyes of all, he slowly pulled back his hood.

    ....

    The moment Vikir''s hood came off, revealing his face.

    "...Uh-oh."

    "...Ahhhhhhhhh."

    "...Ahhhhhhhhhhhh."

    The triplets exim in unison.

    It''s not a reaction to seeing a familiar face, it''s purely a reaction to Vikir''s appearance.

    And then.

    One by one, they begin to realize that Vikir''s face bears a striking resemnce to something.

    Several guards slowly turn their heads to stare at the face of the golden statue outside the window.

    "...?"

    Then they turn again and stare at the face of Vikir, standing on the railing of the stairs.

    "...!"

    And they go stiff.

    The shock spreads to every man in the guard. It spreads to every man in the tavern, and even to Morg''s three sisters, Highsis, Midsis, and Lowsis.

    Soon, all who recognized Vikir''s face stood with their mouths agape and their index fingers trembling.

    "Vi, vi, vi, vi, vi, vi...."

    Vikir Van Baskerville. The missing hound of the Iron-Blooded.

    The hero of the Red Salt has returned.

 Chapter 106: The Returned Hero (3)

    <h4>Chapter 106: The Returned Hero (3)</h4>

    The next morning.

    Vikir pushed himself out of his shabby bed in the tavern.

    He had declined the offer from Highsisst night toe and stay in the fortress''s guest quarters.

    He''d already paid for the room yesterday.

    As he descended the creaky wooden stairs and stepped onto the first floor, where the guards fromst night stood guard in front of the tavern and saluted in booming voices.

    "''Salute!"

    "...I am not from the Morg family, you do not need to salute."

    "Sir Vikir, you are the hero of Red Salt Castle, and we have not forgotten how you saved our lives in the depth two years ago, so we salute you from the bottom of our hearts...!"

    That''s where Vikir decided to give up.

    He would have to get used to the salutes and words of honour that will follow him from now on.

    He couldn''t afford to feel awkward all the time.

    Just then, one of the waitresses fromst night rushed over and handed Vikir a bag.

    "Hey, there''s..., if you don''t mind, I thought I''d give you a snake for your travels ...."

    It was a skewer of the best cuts of beef, some herbal antiseptics, and dark coloured beer in a cold ss bottle.

    When the guards saw it, they sighed deeply.

    "What in the world has happened to that woman?" they said.

    "How can Nancy, the cold wind of the tavern, the epitome of rudeness, be so kind..."

    "I guess she''s suddenly awakened her spirit of hospitality ."

    " What a cruel world. Looks are all that matter."

    But Nancy wasn''t the only one who had changed.

    Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding.

    As soon as the sun rose in the morning, three steeds approached Vikir''s tavern.

    The three horses were followed by numerous other carriages and servants.

    Riding on the horses at the forefront were the three flowers of Morg.

    Morg Highsis, Morg Midsis, and Morg Lowsis.

    For some reason, they looked different than they did yesterday.

    For starters, they no had fairer skin, red lips, darker eyebrows, and more defined features.

    They looked natural, as if they weren''t wearing makeup, but they were actually wearing heavy makeup that took an extreme amount of time, money, and effort to put on.

    On top of that, they were wearing formal outfits, that they would never normally wear.

    Afterward, Morg''s three sisters who greeted Vikir dismounted from their horses.

    Even the notoriously ill-tempered Highsis said "thank you" in a gentle voice to the servant who helped her to her feet.

    Vikir said to the triplets.

    "Is it okay to travel unarmed in wartime?"

    It was an innocent question.

    But they answered with a glint in their eyes.

    "I am armed."

    "I am also fully armed. It''s called bat readiness''."

    "Ho-ho-ho, although my sisters'' makeup is more like camouge than armour."

    The youngest of the three sisters'' expressions stiffened at her sisters''sment.

    "What? Camouge, that''s referring to the face you hid with your brush~"

    "I only hid my face, what about you sister? You covered the outline of your chin altogether. you also made your nose really stand up with shading, but what? That''s almost like a civil engineering."

    "Okay, move your bangs out of the way kid, so I can y ser on your forehead."

    As the three Morg suddenly began to argue with each other, the air around them began to swirl with magical power.

    Despite their smiling faces, the air around them was growing chilly.

    However, their fight was quickly interrupted by a single word from Vikir.

    "Have you contacted the Baskervilles?"

    Highsis was the first to raise her hand and answer.

    "Yes, I sent an owl just yesterday to tell them that Mr. Vikir has returned."

    Slowly, his title changed from "sir" to "mr".

    It was Highsis''s way of trying to be more respectful.

    Vikir, of course, wasn''t phased at all.

    "All right, then. I''ll go by myself from here."

    They were still in front of the tavern. He just meant he''s going to make the trip alone.

    The three sisters were openly disappointed.

    "Are you sure you don''t want us to apany you ...?"

    "It''s a long way to the fortress border."

    "The roads areplicated, and you could get lost."

    "I''m sure you''re busy, but it''s okay."

    "we are not busy! we are not busy at all!"

    "We''re so bored we''re sleeping all the time these days! The barbarians are quiet, we''re not busy at all."

    "Why don''t you juste with us, we''ll show you the sights and give you some advice..."

    "No, thank you. I''d appreciate it if I could just borrow a horse."

    Vikir pped his hands and thought to himself.

    "When I return home, I''ll have to report that Morg''s men are ying around.

    Such disloyalty is unforgivable, sleeping around while borrowing someone else''snd.

    Then. Highsis came up behind him, pulling a pale white horse.

    Only it''s ears were dyed pink.

    "This one is my favourite, his name is Poppy, and I''ve had him since he was a baby. When you''re riding him, you''re also riding me... No, no, please think of it as riding with me, eh, eh."

    "Sis, didn''t you buy that horse in a hurry at the marketst night."

    "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I picked the best one I could find, and I pushed the stallholders hard, but it was a real deal~"

    Highsis grits her teeth and menaced at her siblings.

    Whatever.

    Vikir climbed onto the horse.

    Until then, the three sisters had been arguing over who would lead Vikir to the edge of the Red Salt Castle''s boundaries.

    Then.

    "..., I have a question for you."

    Vikir turned his head.

    Meeting his gaze, the three sisters stopped moving for a moment and stared up into his face with nk expressions.

    It was as if they were mesmerised.

    But Vikir''s next words brought them back to reality.

    "Where is Camus?"

    Camus. Camus Morg.

    Hearing the name brought the three sisters back to reality as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over them.

    "That, that, that''s right. That''s right, there was Camus, ugh."

    "... We''re gonna have to look all over the ce, aren''t we?"

    "That''s why I told you not to do that, sisters!"

    The three sisters gasped, realising what they had just done.

    Then Highsis answered Vikir''s question.

    "If it''s Camus, she''s entering closed-door training."

    "...closed?"

    Vikir repeated, and Highsis shook his head, filling in the nks of what could have happened.

    She had heard that after Vikir''s disappearance, Camus had organised a search party and spent years searching the Depths of ck and Red Mountain.

    But after failing to recover Vikir''s body, let alone save him, Camus abruptly stopped searching and entered into a closed-door training session.

    And what he heard from Morg''s three sisters was startling.

    "She''s separated from Uncle Adolf."

    Highsis said, sounding surprised herself.

    I heard that Camus has changed a little since the time he stopped searching for Vikir.

    She had lost much of her brash personality and spoke less.

    Then, out of the blue, She announced her withdrawal from the "Light Side".

    Since Camus always followed Adolf like a parent, who was her uncle and the leader of a light faction, the Morg family was shocked even from within.

    However, Adolf did not express any officialments about this incident.

    He just silently watched Camus, who had defected, joined the "Dark Side", which stands at the opposite end of a "Light Side".

    "... The Dark Side."

    Vikir frowned slightly.

    There are two factions in Morg.

    The Light Side, which uses magic to achieve results both internally and externally.

    And the Dark Faction, which is less publicly visible, but deeply researches and develops magic within the family.

    Members of the Light faction travel in and around the n, ying monsters and constructing buildings.

    Members of the Dark Side, on the other hand, generally don''t travel outside of the family.

    Instead, they study a particr field or genre of magic in depth, and through countless trials and errors, discover and recreate new magic.

    It''s the difference between a practitioner and a researcher.

    ''The current leader of the Light Faction is Adolf Morg , and the leader of the Dark Faction is Snake Morg."

    Snake Morg. He is an archmage who leads the House of Morg and holds the title of Marquis of the Empire.

    The same rank as the patriarch, Respane Morg, and a distant rtive of hers, he was not known to the public.

    The only thing thates to mind is his reputation as being incredibly pompous and stubborn.

    ... Of course, Vikir, who had lived through the Age of Destruction, was familiar with the man known as Snake Morg.

    "This is unexpected."

    Vikir frowned.

    Before the regression, Camus and Snake had never gotten along.

    But somehow, in this life, Camus had suddenly joined hands with Snake.

    Since Morg''s party isposed of one delegate, 20 senators, and 400 representatives, Camus would most likely have been a senator.

    Maybe she wasn''t even a senator at all.

    Vikir hesitated a moment, then spoke up.

    "Can you deliver a message to Camus?"

    Highsis nodded as if it were obvious.

    "Sure. It''s a favour from a friend."

    "Okay. Then I''ll ask you to keep it short."

    Vikir nodded, and all three sisters took out pens and paper, ready to dictate.

    But what actually came out of Vikir''s mouth was very simple and short.

    -When you get a chance, let''s meet face to face.

    ...?

    Is that it?

    Weren''t they supposed to be reunited after two long years?

    The three sisters, Highsis, Midsis, and Lowsis, stood in ce in a daze.

    Turning to them, Vikir added, as if it had just urred to him.

    "Oh, and. Be sure to leave the dark Side."

 Chapter 107: The Returned Hero (4)

    <h4>Chapter 107: The Returned Hero (4)</h4>

    Vikir rode his horse to the city of Underdog.

    A city where he had once served as a deputy magistrate.

    Vikir rode his horse through the streets and alleyways of Underdog City.

    The city''s security had been greatly improved.

    For the time being, there were noticeably fewer homeless people and drunkards wandering the city, and the streets were cleaner.

    One thing I noticed was that there were very few children around.

    Children are usually running around and ying in the streets and alleyways, but strangely, there were no children in the alleyways.

    There were a few kids wandering around, probably running errands, but they were always apanied by a guardian.

    Otherwise, they''d rush back into their houses ,as if there was something scary outside.

    "...?"

    Vikir tilted his head, but urged his horse toward the city hall.

    The main entrance to the city hall was now in sight, he felt bit nostalgic.

    He hadn''t been there since he had temporarily left the depths to find a cure for the Red Death.

    <��ľ֮��> / <The Faith of the Tree>

    There was a que with those words clearly written on them by Chihuahua.

    It was made in the past when Vikir burned 10 billion on a bet.

    As he entered the city hall building, he was greeted by a bustling staff.

    Without a sound, Vikir dismounted and made his way through the crowd to the inside.

    This was to meet up with Chihuahua, Baskerville.

    He spotted a woman busily working in front of the Deputy Commissioner''s office.

    Judging by the unfamiliarity of her face, she was a new employe.

    Tap.

    Vikir knocked once on her desk.

    But the woman was so busy, she didn''t answer except for a brief frown.

    Tap.

    Vikir knocked on her desk a second time without effect.

    Tap.

    But the woman didn''t respond this time.

    "Take a waitlist and wait."

    She said in a very businesslike tone.

    "...."

    Vikir thought for a moment and nodded.

    currently, Vikir was listed as dead, so he was not officially a deputy.

    So, in principle, it was right to draw a number and wait.

    Especially since he had no intention of making a scene.

    <Waitlist number 3021>.

    Vikir took the ticket and sat down to wait.

    "...."

    None of the employees walking by paid him any mind, their faces were buried in their papers.

    After he had waited for hours.

    Finally, Vikir''s turn came.

    The 3020th customer in front of him had just finished his business and went away.

    Vikir had just gotten up and was approaching the woman.

    ...bang!

    A desk near him shook as if it was going to shatter.

    A male employee jumped to his feet and shouted in an excited voice.

    "News from Red Salt Castle! Lord Vikir is alive and well!"

    "What! Really!?"

    "It''s true! It''s true! It''s a message from the Commander of Morg family himself! He''s leaving the Red Salt Castle and is on his way here!"

    Then there was an uproar.

    The atmosphere in the city hall quickly turned into a simmering pandemonium.

    "Lord Vikir is alive!"

    "It''s the return of a hero! Contact the main house of Baskerville now!"

    "Lord Vikir is on his way here! Roll out the red carpet now!"

    "We only have a white carpet! What should we do?"

    "Make it red with your own blood, and wee him with all you got!"

    The city hall staff began to scramble, abandoning all their important work.

    That included the woman Siting in front of Vikir.

    "For God''s sake, we need to get ready to wee Sir. Vikir right now!"

    She threw down the 3021st waitlist and stormed out.

    Or better said she would have don so if Vikir hadn''t gotten in her way.

    "Wait. You have to take care of myint first."

    "If it''s urgent, just send it in, and I''ll do it first thing tomorrow morning!"

    "It''ll be toote then."

    The woman shot Vikir a look of incredulity.

    "I''m sorry, but I can''t help you right now! We have a guest, a very important one at that! I don''t know what your business is, but under these circumstances, you''ll have to wait untilter...!"

    "I need to see the director."

    The woman paused as the name of the Chihuahua Baskerville came out of Vikir''s mouth.

    If he was going to go straight to the office, he was a pretty important figure, and she couldn''t ignore him.

    So she grunted and gathered up the papers.

    "Oh, no, I don''t want to do this now that Mr. Vikir is on his way to .... Why didn''t you tell me you had a meeting, so I could get it canceled sooner?"

    The woman nced back at her coworkers, who were busy preparing to wee Vikir, and gave the "genuineinant" a look.

    Then she slid a piece of paper in front of Vikir.

    "Write down your name and the purpose of your visit here, please, as fast as possible!"

    Vikir did as he was told.

    -Name: Vikir Van Baskerville

    -Purpose of visit: Reunion

    The woman snatched the papers out of Vikir''s hand.

    She had dealt with so manyints that she was used to dealing with nobles.

    She didn''t even bother to read the papers before knocking on the door of the Directors office.

    "Mr. Chihuahua, you have a visitor!"

    Chihuahua''s voice came from the other side of the door.

    "What? I don''t have any meetings today."

    "Yes, but you have a visitor!"

    "I said I don''t have a meeting, and I''m canceling any one I have. Mr. Vikir is on his way, so just send him home, and they''ll understand."

    The woman turned away as she still hadn''t read the paperwork.

    She sighed and waved the papers in her hand at Vikir, who stood still.

    "Mr. Director said that there''ll be no meeting today, and he''s busy with an emergency, so next time, please make an appointment before youe in. What was your name, the paperwork says... yes Mr. Vikir. In the future, please be sure to contact me in advance and send me a message at ...."

    And a moment. The woman''s body went rigid.

    She looked dazed for a moment, then she adjusted her sses and looked back at the paperwork.

    Soon, the letters in the name field ofinant 3021 are clearly visible on her sses.

    -Name: Vikir Van Baskerville

    -Purpose of Visit: Reunion

    As the woman stood there with her papers, one by one, busy employees walk by and look at the contents of her papers.

    "Hey, I''m busy, what are you doing here not rolling out the red carpet... eh!?"

    "Hey, don''t get in my way, can you get out of my way, please... huck!?"

    "What''s with all the prying...?"

    The people gathered around the female employee one by one and froze in ce.

    The number of people was getting bigger and bigger.

    Soon, the entire city hall staff had gathered around Vikir, and they were all frozen in ce.

    The office was silent as if it had never been so busy.

    After a long moment of silence.

    "Customer number 3021 will enter... ."

    The female employee''s voice echoed softly as she crawled away.

    * * *

    Chihuahua Baskerville looked at Vikir as he burst into his office.

    "Oh. At least you came through the door this time,st time you came through the window."

    He had gotten quite used to Vikir''s unusual behaviour.

    Vikir flopped down on the sofa as soon as he entered.

    Suddenly a child came running At to him.

    "Daddy! Daddy!"

    It was Pomeranian. It was Pomeranian La Baskerville.

    Vikir grabbed Her by the waist and lifted her up.

    "Not daddy, uncle."

    "Uncle! Uncle-!"

    Pomeranianughed as if she was amused by Vikir''s behaviour.

    She clung to Vikir''s side, her hands digging into his waist.

    "Uncle! Hehe. I''m a rat! Catch the rat-"

    Pomeranian had learned to speak a little.

    The Chihuahua''s training must have worked, Vikir thought.

    Pomeranian held out a rat to Vikir, but it didn''t look like the kind of rat you''d keep as a pet.

    It was so skinny and scrawny that it was nothing but bone and skin.

    Vikir nodded approvingly.

    "It''s a cute little rat, but be careful not to catch the gue."

    "Hehe. A, Uncle!"

    Vikir patted the Pomeranian on the head, then turned his attention to the Chihuahua.

    Chihuahua filled Vikir in on the details of what had transpired while he was gone.

    In return, Vikir recounted the events that had urred to him in the depths.

    As Chihuahua listened in awe and amazement.

    "So, did you finally defeat the mysterious creature that was found in the depths?"

    "Notpletely. However, it fled to a cold and barren ce with fatal injuries, so it has probably frozen to death or starved to death."

    "Kya, our Deputy Magistrate, once you owe some one a debt, you pay it back to the end!"

    This time it was Vikir''s turn to ask a question.

    "Have you solved any of the underdog''s problems?"

    "Oh, it''s all been resolved thanks to your suggestion fromst time, Sindhiwendi''s very good at her job."

    Suddenly, the Chihuahua''s normally cheerful expression darkened for a moment.

    Vikir didn''t miss the change and asked.

    "Is something wrong?"

    "...In fact. There''s a case that even Sindiwendi can''t seem to figure out."

    Then Chihuahua stood up and pulled out a sheet of paper from the bookshelf.

    <Unsolved Serial Infant Abduction Case>.

    It was a cold case in the city of Underdog.

    "Recently, children from the slums have been disappearing one after another. It''s a serial phenomenon... I don''t think it''s a kidnapping for money. The trail is not quite clear."

    "Is it the work of the same person?"

    "If my guess is correct it is a solo operation, though I have no proof."

    "''Don''t Sindiwendy''s a capable human being, I''m sure we''ll get a lead soon."

    "I hope so."

    The Chihuahua shook its head as if it he in trouble.

    Then.

    "Dad! Uncle, this is Baba-"

    The Pomeranian grabbed Vikir''s arm again and sagged.

    Vikir couldn''t help but turn his head as the Pomeranian clung to his arm with his entire body.

    The momentary separation seemed to have made her even more sullen.

    "So, Pomeranian, what do you want?"

    "Rats! Rats!"

    Pomerian held out another rat to Vikir.

    Vikir nodded appropriately and tried to live up to Pomerian''s expectations.

    At that moment.

    "...?"

    Vikir took another look at the rat in Pomerian''s hand.

    Something was off about it.

    Vikir squinted his eyes and examined the rat.

    The rat reeked of death.

    Upon closer inspection, the rat was long dead, nothing left but bones and skin.

    And Pomeranian was ying with it.

    "...!"

    Vikir''s mouth opened halfway.

    The rat was now dancing on Pomerian''s palm.

    This was clearly a corpse resuscitation technique, a death magic spell that could be performed using negative mana.

    "Pomeranian."

    "Ung Uncle!"

    "This rat, did you revive it?"

    Pomeranian nodded with a cheerful expression.

    "Ung!"

    "Since when did you know you could do this?"

    "Ung... one night, two nights, three baam...."

    The Pomeranian wiggled her fingers eagerly, and then stretched out five fingers.

    Vikir nodded.

    "Five nights ago?"

    "Mmm."

    "Who taught you how to y with rats like this?"

    "The tribe!"

    Vikir was silent for a moment at Pomeranian''s words.

    Pomeranian had been found in the vige of the Rococo tribe.

    Vikir had assumed that she had learned the secrets of the Rococo tribe, who, are known for their ck magic andmand skills, over their shoulder, but he was not certain.

    "At this age, you''ve already sensed mana, even the most elusive negative mana?

    Even the children of the Baskervilles and Morg, who are said to be geniuses, don''t feel mana until they were eight years old.

    But Pomeranian felt mana at the age of five and was ying with it freely.

    "...Hmm."

    Vikir thought for a moment.

    A magical prodigy had appeared in the Iron-Blooded Sword family, and she was the illegitimate granddaughter of the patriarch.

    "I wonder how Hugo would react if he found out?

    Vikir tried to imagine Hugo''s reaction to seeing the Pomeranian.

    ''If it was the Hugo he knew, probably.

    ''... granddaughter. And you don''t even know what kind of bastard''s blood she''s mixed with? You worthless thing!''

    It was likely to be something like that.

    Hugo judges all his children by efficiency.

    A woman can''t wield a sword as well as a man, so she''s already going to be judged negatively.

    And magic, ck magic!

    That''s not exactly Hugo''s favourite type of witchcraft.

    ''... Plus, I don''t know what he''ll think of her being his granddaughter.''

    Vikir closed his eyes and considered.

    There were few daughters in the Baskervilles. No, almost none.

    You have to look far and wide to find one, and even then, Hugo doesn''t even know their names.

    In fact, there were no daughters in Hugo''s direct lineage at all.

    "...Pomeranian must be the only one."

    Vikir muttered, looking down at the Pomeranian clinging to his leg.

    Pomeranian La Baskerville.

    She was the only child of the eldest daughter of the current head of House Baskerville, Hugo Les Baskerville.

    In other words, the most direct of the direct line.

    The first daughter of his first wife''s first daughter. How would Hugo react? Is it a good idea to introduce Hugo to the Pomeranians in the first ce?

    Vikir shook his head, remembering Hugo''s cold look.

    "I can''t imagine what that cold-blooded man would say to Pomeranian.

    I''m sure he''ll say something nasty, like they''re useless, a waste, a mongrel, or something else.

    Or maybe he''ll just give her a cold, unfeeling stare, like he''s looking at an invisible object.

    ''If that is the case, then it might be best not to confront them....''

    Just as Vikir was contemting what to do with the still very young Pomeranian.

    ... a bang!

    Something crashed through the window.

    Chihuahua opened the window in surprise and sees an owl with a letter tied to its leg.

    The Chihuahua quickly took the letter and read it.

    Then he looked back at Vikir in horror and eximed.

    "Mr. Vikir, we''re in trouble!"

    "What?"

    "It''s from the main house! God, my lord! Gee, directly! As soon as he heard the news of Vikir''s survival, he, he is on his way... !"

    At the same time. There was a noise that cut off the Chihuahua''s words.

    A bang-bang-bang!

    A knock on the front door of the city hall. And the panting of horses that had traveled a long way at a fast pace.

    Finally, the Chihuahua finished speaking.

    "He''s here!"

 Chapter 108: The Returned Hero (5)

    <h4>Chapter 108: The Returned Hero (5)</h4>

    It hadn''t been long since Vikir''s return.

    Hugo Les Baskervilles, the head of the iron-blooded Baskervilles family, made his move immediately upon hearing the news of Vikir''s return.

    His reaction was so intense that even Vikir himself hadn''t not expecting it.

    Hugo traveled to the Underdog''s City Hall, apanied by his butler, John Barrymore.

    He came straight to the office and asked for Vikir first.

    "Where is my son?"

    Hugo asked, and the Chihuahua quickly led him into the office.

    Vikir barely had time to greet him. Hugo burst through the office door and confronted Vikir, who was just stepping out.

    "...!"

    Hugo''s eyes widened.

    Vikir''s eyes widened slightly as well.

    "You''re back."

    "I''m back."

    "Well done."

    "Thank you."

    The conversation is fairly dry and short for a father-son reunion.

    However, Barrymore, standing behind them, watched the conversation with amusement and excitement.

    "It''s been a long time since I''ve seen my lord so happy."

    No wonder Barrymore thought this.

    Hugo hadn''t smiled once in the two years since Vikir''s disappearance.

    Not even the slightest smile.

    But now Hugo was looking at Vikir and smiling.

    Of course, it was almost impossible to tell, because his face was so cold and stoic.

    Meanwhile.

    Vikir nced cautiously at the door to the next room.

    Hugo hade in such a hurry that he hadn''t hidden the Pomeranian properly.

    He''d gotten her into the next room in a hurry, so she should be fine.

    Then.

    ...Jaw!

    Hugo pped Vikir on the shoulder.

    "So, how have you been?"

    Vikir tensed for a moment.

    He''d spent all this time building up his strength in the depht to avoid revealing his true abilities to Hugo.

    As a survivor of a age of destruction, Vikir used his skillful mana-hiding techniques to keep his strength in check.

    But.

    "...?"

    Surprisingly, he felt no pressure from Hugo''s hand on his shoulder.

    There was no indication that he was scanning the mana inside, or trying to get a read on it.

    There was even a faint warmth to his voice that seemed out of ce.

    "What is it?"

    Vikir is a little taken aback.

    Was he just asking, genuinely curious?

    Vikir searched Hugo''s gaze again.

    But he couldn''t read anything in it. Surprise, joy, curiosity, relief?

    It was like....

    ''Sounds like a typical father.''

    Vikir furrowed his brow.

    ''It''s one or the other.''

    Either Hugo''s mind had grown deeper and more sinister than even he could recognize, or his own mind had turned dull.

    The night before the regression, when the rain was pouring down in torrents.

    He can''t forget the feel of so many teeth piercing his body.

    How can he forget the man who used him of being in league with demons and executed him?

    A master of hounds, and king of all hounds.

    That was Hugo Les Baskerville.

    Vikir sharpened his fangs, which were almost dull, again.

    And the more he did so, the softer his tone became.

    "I''ve been concentrating on recovering from the wounds I suffered at the hands of monsters while adrift in the depths, and I''ve managed to establish friendly rtions with some of the natives."

    Hugo''splexion brightened a bit.

    "I see. You established friendly rtions with the barbarians?"

    "Yes."

    "That''s a good thing."

    Hugo nodded. It was a rather unexpected response, given his morbid dislike of the natives of Depht.

    But at Hugo''s next words, Vikir could only nod in agreement.

    "You must have gotten to know the barbarians well enough to know their location and strength, which would make it easier for you to wipe them out."

    Hugo still regarded the natives as something akin to demons.

    Vikir hid a sigh.

    "What I''ve learned from my time with them is that... their power is greater than I thought."

    "Hmm. That''s true, especially with the Night Foxes being such a threat."

    "But I''ve figured out a way to control them."

    "Ho-ho, and what is that?"

    Hugo asked, his face lighting up at Vikir''s words.

    If you ask Vikir, he always has a good answer. Hugo seemed to think so.

    And this time, Vikir didn''t disappoint.

    "The natives of Depht are weak against the Empire''s manufactured goods."

    "Manufactured goods?"

    "Yes. I have confirmed that merchants from bourgeois families have been sneaking in and trading with the natives of Depht."

    Hugo''s expression hardened at the words.

    Then he growled in a low voice.

    "A bunch of money-grubbers, and now they''re trading with foreign enemies? Sooner orter, I''m going to have to cut their heads off...."

    "You don''t have to worry, father, I''ve exterminated them all."

    "What?"

    "I''m a deputy magistrate in the city of Underdog, and I had them summarily executed under the authority of the acting magistrate, and of course there were no witnesses."

    Hugo''s eyes widened again.

    Then his gaze dropped to Vikir''s, and it was reced by a look of familiarity, of recognition.

    "I see. That''s just like my son. This is Baskerville."

    And then, with a gleam in his eye, Hugo asked.

    "Yes, it is. You mean the bourgeois have been seducing the barbarians with their petty manufactured goods?"

    "Yes. ss beads and woolen crafts, which are cheap in the Empire, or vegetables and grain, which are precious to them. Exploiting them is a great way to keep them under control, and it''s a great diplomatic gain."

    "...Hmm. But isn''t that trade, not conquest?"

    "It''s a way to win without fighting."

    Hugo''s expression turned grim for a moment.

    "There is no point in fighting. The sword of Baskerville exists to draw blood from the bodies of barbarians."

    What an infernal warmonger. Vikir clucked his tongue inwardly, but didn''t let it show.

    "Of course barbarians will shed blood."

    "Hmm? But didn''t you just say we were trading?"

    "I didn''t mean to suggest that we make peace with the barbarians."

    "Then?"

    Vikir''s eyes lit up at Hugo''s question.

    "I meant to use them as reinforcements for hunting demons."

    Pfft. Hugo''s favorite tactic.

    Hugo was quite intrigued by the idea.

    "Hmmm. Let''s lure them in with cheap manufactured goods and y the demons. It''s not so bad, after all, demons are also targets."

    "Yeah. I''ve already built the infrastructure, you just need to utilize it."

    Vikir did not want the natives of Bk to be harmed by the Baskervilles.

    Now that Madame Eightlegs was gone, pressuring the Bk from the west, the Bk would escape the Baskervilles and move deeper into the watery depths of their original home.

    It will no longer have any reason to encounter Baskerville Street.

    The Baskervilles can easily fill the void left by Bk''s departure to the west.

    Since Hugo is unaware of Madame''s existence, he will see Bk moving west and assume that he is fleeing.

    For Vikir, it''s a win-win: war is averted and trade is secured.

    Finally, Hugo nodded.

    "Very well. Then I''ll leave the trade with the barbarians to you. Can you do it?"

    "If you ask me to, I will do it."

    "Good."

    Hugo smiled with satisfaction at his son''s loyalty, which was no different than it had been two years ago-if anything, even stronger.

    It was a win-win for Vikir, too, since he would only have to wrap the alreadyid out board in his own merit.

    Then.

    "...!"

    Hugo added.

    "There must be a tribe among the barbarians called the Rococo."

    "Yes. I know of them."

    "There will be no trade with them. The Rokoko tribe alone will be exterminated."

    Hugo''s tone was suddenly ferocious again. He would notpromise on this point.

    Vikir could only nod in silence, knowing that arguing back would undo everything they had discussed so far.

    Some small talk ensued.

    Most of it was simr to what he''d told the Chihuahua.

    Hugo sat on the couch and listened to Vikir''s report, mostly with a look of satisfaction, but asionally with a look of surprise.

    Finally, he turned to Vikir.

    "Since your rescue and subsequent disappearance, we have been able to make enormous diplomatic gains in Morg. What''s more, the imperial court has heard of the tale and has awarded House Baskerville for its chivalry."

    "...."

    "All of this was for nothing to a father who had lost his son."

    The more I listen, the more surprising the words be.

    Even Butler Barrymore''s rabbit eyes behind him echoed Vikir''s sentiments.

    Finally, Hugo finished.

    "But it''s good that you''re back. It feels like things are finally falling into ce."

    "...."

    "I suggest that you relinquish your duties as Underdog''s Deputy for the time being and get some rest, while we discuss what rewards the House can bestow upon you."

    Vikir replied briefly, then bowed, ending the conversation.

    Suddenly, I had a problem.

    "... The portrait in the Pomeranian pendant. Should I report it or not?

    Vikir had identified the pendant''s original owner as Roxana, Hugo''s first wife.

    Roxana''s daughter, Penelope, and Penelope''s daughter, Pomeranian.

    We know that Hugo''s personality changed after Roxana was killed in action and her daughter, Penelope, was kidnapped in a mysterious ident by the natives of Depht.

    This information is reliable because ites directly from the pre-regression Barrymore.

    Should we return this artifact, which presumably belonged to Roxana, to Hugo?

    And what about the Pomeranian?

    ''Nope. Scratch and chew. You can''t expect anything from that cold-blooded man.''

    Vikir shook his head lightly.

    If Hugo had any sisters or daughters, she''d know how he treated female flesh and blood, but... there were none in Baskerville, so his attitude could not be inferred.

    ''I''m sure he''ll say something about women having weak hands for swords and not being needed. You''ll be lucky if she doesn''t draw her sword and say it has barbarian blood in it.''

    Given Hugo''s usual sullen nature, it was probably best not to mention Pomeranian.

    That''s how Vikir judged it.

    ... But.

    Two things happened at once thatpletely upset Vikir''s expectations.

    "Aaahhh! Uncle!"

    The side door to the next room burst open and the Pomeranian burst out.

    "Woow! Uncle! It''s raining outside! Thunder! Bam bam bam bam-"

    Pomeranian ran into Vikir''s arms, covered in tears and snot.

    He was the first variable.

    And then.

    "...!"

    Vikir''s eyes widened.

    The second variable was even more strange than the first.

    It was the look on Hugo''s face when he saw the Pomeranian.

    "...! ...! ...! ...! ...! ...! ...! ...! ...! ...! ...! ...!"

    Eyes perfectly circled.

    A mouth that had never been seen open like that before.

    A face Vikir had never seen in his two lives.

 Chapter 109: The Great Banquet (1)

    <h4>Chapter 109: The Great Banquet (1)</h4>

    Hugo Les Baskerville.

    The iron-blooded swordsman who rules Baskerville.

    One of the seven pirs that support the Rock of the Great Empire.

    In recognition of his great contributions to the unification of the continent''s powers into a single empire, he was awarded the Star of Swords, and was knighted as a Marquis, at the age of fifty.

    About a decade had passed since then.

    Hugo was a man with literally iron blood and a furnace heart.

    He drove the rampaging barbarians far beyond the borders of the country and wiped out over a hundred species of demonic creatures.

    His exploits, and the power that made them possible, gave him a tight grip on the center of power.

    Countless Baskerville hounds had been sacrificed along the way, but Hugo didn''t care.

    Hugo was a man who, once set on a path, never looked back.

    ... but.

    That iron-blooded man was wavering now.

    Hugo stared at the small girl before him with a nk expression he hadn''t seen in decades, not even from Butler Barrymore, with whom he had spent his entire life.

    Pomeranian.

    Suddenly bursting out of the next room, she ran straight to Vikir and hugged him.

    "Uncle! Thunderp! Musher!"

    But Vikir could do little more than hold the Pomeranian still.

    Vikir couldn''t do much more than hold the Pomeranian still, because the reaction of Hugo, whose eyes were now wide open in front of him, was too unexpected.

    He nced to the side, hoping to see something, and found Butler Barrymore staring at Hugo with an even more astonished expression.

    Hugo''s reaction is understandable, as there is no way in the world that Hugo would have such a look on his face.

    Shock and horror. An awkward silence fills the office.

    Then, like a man possessed by a ghost, Hugo took a step forward.

    "Are you, are you... that face... can''t be...?"

    Hugo''s hands and voice trembled. It was only now that Vikir realized it could be a tremor.

    His unsteady gaze darted to the side of the Pomeranian''s face, to the blood-red eyes half-hidden by ck hair.

    Meanwhile. Pomeranian, who had been squirming in Vikir''s arms, looked up and gasped.

    " Wooooaaah! Uncle!"

    Pomeranian cried out loudly and stumbled backwards.

    It''s a natural reaction for a girl to have when she sees a middle-aged man with a mustache approaching her with a shaky hand outstretched.

    "Moustache! Nose hair! Offensive! Shirer!"

    The Pomeranian squealed, hiding in Vikir''s arms.

    And to Hugo''s surprise, he froze in ce in shock.

    "My nose... mustache? My mustache?"

    With trembling hands, Hugo groped under his nose.

    Just then, Vikir stepped forward.

    "Mr. Hugo, please calm down."

    The cold, emotionless tone of his voice sobered Hugo.

    As Hugo straightened up, Vikir asked.

    "This is a child I picked up on my way here. I brought him here to run a personal errand, but I don''t know if you''re bothered by...?"

    "Eh, eh. Picked him up on the road, huh?"

    Hugo res at Pomeranian even as he answers Vikir.

    But Pomerian was already in Vikir''s arms, so he couldn''t see her face again.

    When Hugo dared to lift his head once more to look into the Pomeranian''s face, Butler Barrymore came to Vikir''s aid.

    "My lord. There are as many children in the world as there are grains of sand. There''s nothing particrly strange about the Master picking up a child to run an errand for."

    At that, Hugo stopped shivering.

    "...I''m mistaken, then. The butler is right."

    And then. Hugo reverted back to his stern expression.

    But why was he fiddling with his mustache?

    "Does the mustache bother you?"

    "No. ...What are you talking about, butler?"

    "Oh, no, no, I don''t know!"

    Barrymore blurts out, earning a favorable re from Hugo.

    Hugo sighs as he sits back down on the couch.

    "I see. I was mistaken for a moment. I apologize for being so distracted, son."

    Hugo apologized. This surprised Vikir once more.

    Next, Vikir summoned the Chihuahua director to send the Pomeranian to the bedroom.

    "Mr. Director. Please give him a quiet room today, since the thunder scared him so much."

    "Yes, sir, and I''ll have hot cocoa."

    With familiarity, Chihuahua takes the Pomeranian.

    It looked as if it had been with the Pomeranian for a long time, and Hugo could see once again that his agitation was an illusion.

    Chihuahua was a quick-witted person.

    Sensing Vikir''s embarrassment, he gave Hugo and Barrymore a quick nod, then casually turned and covered the Pomeranian''s face.

    Then, with a fluid motion, he picked up Pomeranian and carried her out of the office.

    Hugo had been rubbing his face with his hands.

    Vikir looked at Hugo, who was still very much shaken, and wondered.

    Master. A swordsman who has touched the realm of the Supreme is not merely physically strong.

    Their souls are extremely disciplined and tempered. A Swordmaster can only be reached by having a strong soul as well as a strong body.

    But for Hugo, a man with such a strong soul, to be so disheveled.......

    "There must be something to it."

    Vikir decided to think more deeply about the Pomeranian.

    Then.

    "...Son."

    Hugo opened his mouth to look at Vikir.

    "Yes, Father."

    Vikir replied with a short bow.

    Then came the line Vikir had been expecting.

    "Come to the great banquet tomorrow."

    The Great Banquet. A small, exclusive dinner for the Baskervilles'' direct descendants, the very elite.

    It is the lifelong dream of every lowly Baskerville to attend, even once.

    At one point, Vikir was one of them.

    A typical seventeen year old Baskerville, especially one with a Van middle name, would have jumped for joy and wagged his tail at Hugo''s offer.

    But Vikir merely nodded meekly.

    "I will see you tomorrow evening, father."

    Hugo nodded back,pletely unmoved, and didn''t say anything else.

    Only Butler Barrymore dabbed at his slightly reddened eyes with his handkerchief.

    "You''ve been a good boy all these years.

    Still, it was in to see what the old butler was thinking.

    * * *

    That night.

    Vikir retired to his bedroom in the city hall.

    After a hot shower, hey down on the fluffy bed and felt out of ce.

    After sleeping on dried straw and fallen leaves for the past two years, such afortable ce to sleep felt foreign.

    Eventually, Vikir left the bed and got down on the floor.

    Before getting down, he tucked a pillow under the covers to disguise his bulge.

    An upational disease (?) from years of assassination experience.

    "...."

    After lying down without a nket on the hardwood floor, I finally got used to it.

    "Come to think of it, I always chose a hard stone floor like this to sleep on when I went hunting.

    The two years he spent with the wolves, the warriors of Bk, were an experience he''ll never forget. For a while, it seemed to stick with him.

    Vikiry on his arms and thought about what was toe.

    "Come to think of it, Hugo''s reaction today was quite unexpected."

    His reaction earlier had convinced him to some extent that he should report the matter of the Pomeranian and the pendant.

    ''I''ll think about it tomorrow after the great banquet.

    "Then I''ll pull out my hand at the most effective time."

    Maybe it would be a good opportunity to give Hugo ast-minute, decisive blow.

    Either way, it would have to be in a way that wouldn''t harm the Pomeranian.

    Vikir closed his eyes, nning his move.

    "...!"

    Suddenly, one of Vikir''s eyes popped open.

    Whirring.

    A gust of wind, so slight that a normal person wouldn''t have felt it.

    The cold night air brushed against his skin.

    The window opened soundlessly, and a shadow crawled through the crack.

    The shadow approached the bed silently, and in its hand it drew a dagger with a sharp edge.

    It smelled faintly of mana.

    Then, The Shadow stood before the bed. It was where Vikir would normally lie.

    But no.

    The Shadow did not swing the de directly at the bed. It simply lifted the end of the nket and slipped quietly under it.

    Of course, Vikir was on the floor, not under the covers, so he was able to watch the shadow''s movements from start to finish.

    "You''ve been back less than a day. You''re a fast learner."

    Vikir smirked and pushed himself up.

    And.

    The physicality of the Graduator Superior is on full disy.

    Bam!

    Vikir drew his Beelzebub and knocked the shadow''s dagger away in one swift motion.

    ...Puck!

    The Shadow''s dagger spun around and flew away, embedding itself in the wall.

    At the same time, Vikir''s grip flew out like a snake''s gills and grabbed The Shadow by the throat.

    In an instant, The Shadow''s arm snapped and he fell backwards onto the bed, Vikir stamping fiercely on top of him.

    Vikir climbed on top of him and whispered low in his ear.

    "Next time, you might want to make a formal request for an interview. I''ll kill you if you make a mistake."

    "...I''ll have to."

    The Shadow''s breathing was steady and measured.

    Then, the ck cloak that covered his face slipped off.

    It was the old face he hadn''t seen in a long time.

 Chapter 110: The Great Banquet (2)

    <h4>Chapter 110: The Great Banquet (2)</h4>

    Moonlight shone through the window, illuminating The Shadow''s face.

    Vikir loosened his grip on her throat.

    The face beneath the golden-blonde bob was revealed.

    Sindhiwendi. She hade in person when she heard of Vikir''s return.

    She winked at Vikir.

    "Why don''t you just stick to what you''re doing, you aren''t bad at it."

    "Cut the crap and tell me what you''re here for."

    Vikir slid off of Sindhiwendi''s body and sat on the edge of the bed.

    She rubbed the back of her neck, which had been so tight just moments before, and smirked.

    "Still living without a shoulder. Don''t you ever get bored of going in a straight line like that?"

    "Before I p your ass and kick you out. Quick."

    "Wow, he''s a big boy. Are you sure you''re seventeen? You look like you''re forty... or fifty."

    Shey on the bed at an angle, raising only her upper body as if she owned it.

    She squinted up at Vikir.

    "By the way. You sent a minion after me. How did you know where I was?"

    "From the way you''ve acted in the past. Going to a crooked capitalist, building up trust by telling him of his wealth, and then stealing it all away."

    "Excuse me. I''m a financial nner, and I get paid for my work."

    A flower girl who had once amassed a great deal of wealth thanks to Vikir''s specialws.

    Thanks to Vikir''s protection, which included a bodyguard, she was able to keep her money and lead a safe life.

    But it''s not just about keeping the money. She didn''t know how to spend it or what to call it.

    Sindhiwendi took advantage of that and approached the girl to work as a financial nner.

    "She''s doing well as a big sister now, and I''ve already given her a lot of money. Maybe it''s because she''s so nice and innocent, but she would have been scammed if it was just anyone but me."

    "I''ve even given him a bodyguard to protect him."

    "Bodyguards? Aren''t they just there to protect people? Do they weed out scammers?"

    "The bodyguards included financial experts, and I had ordered them to weed out the scammers."

    At that, Shindywendy looked puzzled.

    "Those bodyguards... didn''t touch anything, so I thought you werepletely out of touch with finance. What?"

    At her words, Vikir nodded.

    "You''re right. I even ordered them to let you get close."

    Vikir had thought that if word got out that the flower girl had ten billion, Sindhiwendi would be the first to approach her.

    That was Vikir''s bait and switch to lure her in, to locate her.

    In the end, the 10 billion dor bait didn''t work out, as Vikir caught her right away at the ve auction, but it did help him locate herter.

    After realizing all of this, Sindiwendy flopped down on the bed with a dejected look on her face.

    "No way. I was wondering how that Chihuahua guy knew where I was and sent the telegram, but I''ve been ying right into your hands the whole time. I''m dumbfounded."

    "Again."

    "...You''re such an as*hole."

    Sindiwendy grumbled for a moment, then slipped her hand inside her chest.

    A wad of crumpled paper emerged from her chest.

    She tossed the stack of papers at Vikir.

    "These are the materials you asked for."

    "...Hmm. Next time, put them in the folder."

    Vikir opened the stack of papers from Xin Diwendi.

    It was a list of people who would be honored at the Great Banquet tomorrow.

    "I knew I''d be invited to the great feast after all my hard work. It''s a good thing I did my research beforehand.

    It was to Vikir''s credit that Sindiwendy hade the night before the Great Banquet.

    But.

    "But that''s only half of it."

    Sindiwendy opened her mouth.

    When Vikir looked up, Sindiwendi pointed to her other breast.

    "I''ll give you the rest after you pay the information fee."

    "An information fee?"

    "Did you think you were going to get it for free?"

    At that, Vikir nodded silently.

    Then. Vikir pulled something out of his pocket and tossed it to Sindiwendi.

    ...With a pop!

    Cindy Wendy''s eyes widened as she caught it.

    Whatnded in her palm was a white, pointed tooth. It was the fang of an oxbear.

    She stared at Vikir in disbelief.

    "That''s it? Are you kidding me?"

    Of course, an oxbear''s tooth is priceless. They could fetch millions of gold if they were carved into chess pieces.

    But if it''s an information fee, it''s too cheap.

    Sindiwendy was about toin, but Vikir cut her short.

    "There are thousands, tens of thousands more like it."

    "...?"

    Sindhiwendi stopped what she was about to say and pricked up her ears.

    Vikir spoke again.

    "If you listen to me, you can get a cartload of them every year."

    He was talking about trade with all the natives of the entire jungle, including the Bk.

    Vikir is now a hero to his enemies and to all the natives who live in the depht of the ck Mountain.

    In such a Vikir-led trade, the natives would dly give up their antlers, gums, shells, truffles, and other precious forest products.

    From the Empire''s point of view, the trade could not be more beneficial, and the Hierarchy or Guild that would oversee this massive trade would be thrilled.

    Mega deal.

    If the trade actually takes ce, it will open up the distribution of luxury goods on a scale never before seen in history.

    Fund managers, financial nners, and others would be dazzled.

    Especially for the likes of Sindhiwendy, a gold-digger, it was an investment he couldn''t pass up.

    Her mouth is watering and her eyes are glistening.

    With a gleam in her eye, she pulled out the rest of the materials and thrust them in Vikir''s direction.

    "Do you think the barbarians will open up trade?"

    "Of course."

    With the support of all the tribes, Vikir could pull off this megadeal of epic proportions.

    It was the seed of a storm that could end the war and create countless other economic phenomena.

    And right now, there are only two people who know about it, Vikir and Sindhiwendi, who has just heard about it.

    Sindhiwendi picked herself up in a polite manner and sat down on her knees with her legs crossed in front of each other, showing Vikir the two documents.

    "I guess I''ll have to call you boss from now on."

    "As you wish."

    Vikir didn''t seem to care about the title and went straight to the papers.

    First came the first and most curious document.

    It was about Pomeranian''s identity.

    First granddaughter of Hugo Les Baskervilles, head of the Baskervilles family.

    Estimated age is 5 years old. It is a known fact that Hugo and his first wife, Roxana, are Penelope''s children.

    .

    .

    Vikir''s interpretation was based on what he had heard from Butler Barrymore earlier.

    Upon closer examination, the Pomeranian proved to be a direct descendant of Hugo.

    Hugo had married a woman named Roxana when he was twenty years old.

    She had given birth to Penelope La Baskerville while with Hugo and died in battle.

    Later, Penelope La Baskerville died in an unexined ident and was captured by hunters from the Rococo tribe.

    She gave birth to a daughter, Pomerian, and died.

    "There''s something about this unexined ident, too."

    Vikir thought as he looked at the bottom of the document.

    Well, whatever.

    Hugo''s first daughter, Penelope, had disappeared about a year before Vikir was born.

    Hugo was about forty-one at the time, so the timeline seemed to fit.

    The fact that it was true was a relief. Vikir flipped to the next chapter of the book.

    The next page detailed the official list of people scheduled to attend the dinner tomorrow.

    <Hugo le Baskerville>

    Rank: Patriarch

    Title: Marquis

    Title: Swordmaster

    Other: Hugo Les Baskerville has a total of ... children, including direct descendants, illegitimate children, and adopted children outside of his lineage or bloodline. ...

    (omitted below)

    .

    .

    It''s no surprise that Hugo, the patriarch, is at the top of the list.

    It was the next one that mattered.

    <Boston Terrier Les Baskervilles>.

    Ranks: Knights of the Pit Bull �C Knight Commander, Senator

    Title: Count

    Title: Graduator Supreme

    Other: Half-brother of the Baskerville family patriarch, Hugo Les Baskervilles.

    Very belligerent and temperamental, hating to be tied down.

    .

    .

    A Boston Terrier, a Knight Commander of the Knights of the Pitbull, is somehow present at the Great Banquet.

    He is one of the elite of the elite, leading one of the seven Knights of the House of Baskerville, and is also one of the "Seven Counts," representing the family''s military might.

    "For someone who normally dislikes formal and formal asions like the Great Banquet,... why is he attending?"

    Vikir scratched his head and flipped to the next page.

    As expected, he sees an unexpected name.

    <Great Dane Les Baskerville>.

    Rank: Knights of the Mastiff �C Knight Commander, Senator

    Title: Count

    Title: Graduator Supreme

    Other: Half-brother of the Baskerville family patriarch, Hugo Les Baskervilles.

    He is reserved and reticent, unwilling to pretend to be anything but, and has a particrly bad rtionship with the Count of Boston Terrier.

    .

    .

    The Great Dane, leader of the Mastiff Knights, is also officially confirmed to attend the Great Banquet.

    He is also a member of the Seventh Count, one of the pirs of Baskerville''s military backbone.

    They don''t usually attend events within the family, so why are they attending the Great Banquet?

    Especially when it''s being hosted by their half-brother, who''s a bit of a pain in the ass to look at.

    When Vikir scratched his head, Sindiwendy smirked.

    "Are you even thinking about why they''reing?"

    "Yes."

    "You really don''t know, do you?"

    Sindhiwendi pointed an index finger at Vikir in disbelief.

    "It''s because of you, I don''t know why!"

    "...?"

    Vikir frowned, and Shindiwendi exined.

    "Normally, the Senators, including the Seventh Count, don''t interfere in the family''s internal affairs, so why would theye to the Urrrr Great Banquet all at once? They''reing to see you, the young legend of the Baskerville family who returned alive!"

    "Urrr? Are there othersing?"

    "Don''t be rmed, all seven counts have requested to attend this great banquet."

    Vikir was a little surprised at that.

    Seven counts.

    Normally, they are rarely seen by the lesser hounds of Baskerville in their entire lives.

    But the only two that had managed to make it onto the official list were a Boston Terrier and a Great Dane.

    Sindiwendi chuckled.

    "I heard that all the other Knights Temr leaders were deployed far away, so it would take them a long time to return home. Only the Boston Terrier and the Great Dane, who were sent out on missions closer to home, were able to make it in time, and even then, they''ll be arriving in a hurry."

    "Hmmm. I don''t suppose they''re just curious to see my face."

    "Of course not. They''re here because they want to take you into their order, to set their sights on a future knight, and they''ve heard that other than Boston Terriers and Great Danes, all the other knights are stomping their feet because of the distance."

    The Great Banquet is a rare event that only direct blood rtives can attend, so they can''t send a proxy.

    So only two of the seven counts, who were rtively close by, rode through the night in good spirits to return home.

    "We''ll see tomorrow. I''ll be bombarded with scouting offers for a while."

    Sindiwendi giggled.

    The pinnacle of two orders, the Pit Bull Knights and the Mastiff Knights, rumored to be at odds with each other.

    And with a very tasty piece of meat between them.

    Perhaps a Boston Terrier or a Great Dane, or both, will try to win Vikir over to their order.

    " But Vikir''s response is short.

    " ... I''m not interested in either of them."

    He just hopes it doesn''te to that.

    Vikir read the following documents

    At this point, important figures began to appear.

    <Osiris Les Baskervilles>.

    Rank: Member of the House of Representatives

    Title: Viscount

    Title: Graduator Supreme

    Other: The eldest son of Hugo Les Baskervilles, the patriarch of House Baskerville. Currently first in line of session.

    .

    .

    The next generation of Baskervilles.

    A cold, heartless genius. An ultra-elite who''s growing up to be what Hugo once was.

    He can already draw six teeth with the tip of his de, and his swordsmanship is said to be on par with that of the Seven Counts.

    Rumor has it that he will soon reach the rank of Swordmaster.

    "...Osiris."

    Vikir was silent for a moment.

    Before his regression, Vikir had seen Osiris a few times as a child, at a distance.

    He was extremely reticent and cold.

    He never said hello to anyone, not even his own siblings, let alone those of his direct lineage.

    But it wasn''t as if he had brothers who could speak to him before his overwhelming skill and charisma.

    So he was always alone. A solitary, tortured genius.

    Sindiwendi looked at him and said.

    "Aside from the Patriarch and the Seven Counts, he must be the strongest in the Baskerville Family, right?"

    "...."

    "No, maybe you''re more...?"

    Sindiwendi sneakily tried to gauge Vikir''sbat strength.

    Vikir shrugged it off and turned the page.

    <Set Les Baskervilles>

    Rank: Underdog City Magistrate-Councilor

    Title: Viscount

    Rank: Intermediate Graduator

    Other: Second son of Hugo Les Baskervilles, the patriarch of House Baskerville. Currently second in line of session.

    .

    .

    The next presence was one that was still vivid in Vikir''s memory.

    Set Baskerville.

    His talent for swordsmanship was far inferior to his older brother''s, and he had been particrly sickly from an early age.

    So even when his brother Osiris was knighted for his prowess in battle against demons, he was only given the honorary title of Viscount.

    His personality was unusually gentle and affectionate for a Baskerville, but this only made him appear weak and withdrawn to Hugo.

    Hugo was especially cold and strict with his second son, Set.

    Set, however, never lost his gentle nature.

    He was the only one in the family to shed a tear for the hounds dying like garbage.

    Vikir had seen Sety chrysanthemums at the memorial more than once.

    "Hmph. I heard you were in training for the closing ceremony... but you must have stepped out to attend the great banquet."

    Vikir flipped through the information.

    As he read slowly, his expression became more and more expressionless.

    Then.

    Vikir spotted a familiar name at the bottom of the document.

    <Highbro Les Baskervilles>

    Rank: Academy Candidate

    Title: Young Master (Shadow)

    Rank: Sword Expert Advanced

    Other: Direct descendant of Hugo Les Baskervilles, patriarch of House Baskerville.

    .

    .

    <Midbro Les Baskerville>

    Rank: Academy Candidate

    Title: Young Master (Shadow)

    Rank: Sword Expert Advanced

    Other: Direct descendant of Hugo Les Baskervilles, patriarch of House Baskerville.

    .

    .

    <Loubro Les Baskervilles

    Rank: Academy Candidate

    Title: Young Master (Shadow)

    Rank: Sword Expert Advanced

    Other: Direct descendant of Hugo Les Baskervilles, patriarch of House Baskerville.

    .

    .

    "Another set of unexpected names."

    Vikir closed the file with a dry chuckle.

    He was beginning to look forward to tomorrow''s great banquet.

 Chapter 111: The Great Banquet (3)

    <h4>Chapter 111: The Great Banquet (3)</h4>

    A zing sunset at the tip of the spire.

    The night of the Great Banquet hase to Baskerville.

    Vikir entered the depths of the inner castle, where only those who had enemies in the main house, especially those in important positions, were allowed to go.

    The first floor of the inner castle was the great hall.

    The interior of the great stone room, carved out of ck stone, was neither luxurious nor morous, but it was certainlyrge and magnificent.

    The gothic interior had an eerie, cold atmosphere. It''s hard to imagine this as a ce for a family dinner.

    The demeanor of the servants bringing the food was also strange.

    The servants, both male and female, were pale and expressionless.

    They moved like puppets, carrying food and arranging utensils, and when they weren''t working, they stood upright against the wall, waiting for their master''s orders.

    Meanwhile.

    At arge, circr table, several people sat down to eat.

    Long, grim shadows cast against the hard, angr walls and ceiling.

    At the end of it sits Hugo, the iron-blooded patriarch of Baskerville.

    Hugo Les Baskerville. He was still eating his meal with a cold, sharp edge.

    Slowly cutting his meat, chewing it, swallowing it.

    Not once did he open his mouth as he continued with that horribly monotonous and repetitive task.

    Meanwhile, two men sitting far apart on either side of Hugo red at each other the entire time.

    Boston Terrier Les Baskerville. And a Great Dane Les Baskerville.

    Leading the Knights of the Pit Bull and the Knights of the Mastiff, respectfully, they had been antagonizing each other since they entered the dinner hall.

    "Hmph!"

    The Count of Boston Terriers coughed and twirled his fork around, then spoke up, his voice full ofint.

    "Well, isn''t the meat a little undercooked?"

    The Boston Terrier''s words caused everyone at the table to stop eating for a moment.

    The Boston Terrier picked up his fork and nervously poked at the steak in front of him, then lifted the meat off the end of his fork.

    Blood dripped onto the te.

    The servants'' faces turned red as they looked at the bleeding meat.

    The chef''s face, in particr, was so white it looked like he was looking at a piece of paper.

    Finally, Hugo turned his head.

    "Boston Terrier, do you not like the meat?"

    The Boston Terrier shook his head in surprise.

    "Uh, no, no, brother, it''s not that. I was referring to the meat on the te across from me."

    With that, all eyes turn to the other side of the table.

    "...."

    There, arge man sits, silently slicing away at his knife.

    He chews and swallows a rare steak dripping with blood without a word.

    He was the Count of Great Dane, leader of the Knights of the Mastiff.

    "...What''s yourint?"

    The Great Dane asked the Boston Terrier.

    The Boston Terrier scowled at the scars on his face.

    "Nothing. I think the meat is too raw. I''m telling you to cook it a little longer."

    " ... I like it just right."

    "Aha. I see."

    The Boston Terrier smirked at the Great Dane''s blunt reply.

    Then he spoke in a voice that simmered deep in his throat.

    "You''re always one to eat raw, aren''t you? The meat, too, and the new knights."

    At that, the Great Dane stopped forking.

    "...I''m eating something raw?"

    "Ew. Did you hear that? You have very bright ears."

    "Say that again. What am I eating raw?"

    "...You don''t have very bright ears again. You didn''t hear me, did you?"

    The Boston Terrier bared his teeth andughed in response, and the Great Dane mped his mouth shut.

    Their confrontation made the atmosphere at the dinner even colder.

    The Boston Terrier turned to the Great Dane.

    "I eat plenty of meat raw, and I don''t care if I get food poisoning or not, but don''t expect a new Knight to eat it raw."

    "I don''t know what you''re talking about. Is this some kind of out-of-character behavior at a dinner party?"

    "I''m saying that I know you''vee here with the sole intention of inducting my lovely niece into the corrupt Knights of the Mastiff."

    The Boston Terrier was now growling quite openly.

    But the Great Dane remained calm, even as he wiped the corner of his mouth with his handkerchief.

    "A dear nephew, I''ll grant you that, but there''s a problem with that statement: ''My'' dear nephew. Vikir is your nephew, but he''s also my nephew. And as an uncle, it is my duty to discipline and guide my nephew on the right path."

    "And why is throwing him into a ragtag knights of mastiffs the right path?"

    "... ...Be careful what you say. It is far better to join the Knights of the Mastiff than to join the Knights of the Pit Bull, who are dull and unintelligent."

    "I''ll be careful what I say, and you better be careful what you convert, because it''s about to get bitten."

    "I can only sigh when I see the barking, unable to identify friends and family."

    "What''s with the big head and the hollow heart?"

    The Boston Terrier and the Great Dane were having a nervous breakdown.

    It''s all about getting Vikir to join their knighthood.

    "...."

    Vikir, who was eating quietly in the middle, was at a loss.

    He''d been in charge of a knightage Pit Bull once before, so he had a general idea of its power.

    An order of one hundred Graduators specializing in extermination.

    They are known as the most fierce knights not only in Baskerville, but in the entire Empire.

    In the past, when Vikir was Deputy Magistrate of Underdog City, the illegal ve auction houses of Underdog''s underground were home to some of the biggest criminals in the Empire.

    The Pitbull Knights had ughtered and beheaded the beasts of this massive criminal organization in just half a day.

    He went so far as to set fire to the Club Burning Suspension, which was a hotbed of luxury, pleasure, illegality and crime.

    And it all happened under Vikir''s leadership.

    That was why the current Count of Boston Terrier was so fond of his nephew, Vikir.

    "Nephew, you can only trust this uncle. I will make you the strongest pit bull ever."

    He chomped on a piece of meat dripping with blood andughed sardonically.

    The servants around him shudder in horror, though he puts on an innocent face.

    But the Boston Terrier wasn''t the only one courting.

    "C''mon, nephew, the Knights of the Fire Mastiff aren''t bad, either. ...what. I''m not just saying this because I''m the leader, I''m rmending them because they''re really good."

    The Great Dane, too, had been sending Vikir a wary nce from earlier.

    The ''knightage Mastiff'' he leads is an elite organization that isparable to the Pit Bull Knights.

    While the Pitbull Knights were known as "knights specializing in extermination" to create an atmosphere of fear through unteral ughter and butchery, the Mastiff Knights were known as "knights specializing in war" to formally subjugate their opponents.

    Like the pit bulls, there are one hundred Graduators.

    They are mobilized only in the event of a formal duel or a deration of war, and they beat their opponents to submission in a fair contest of strength.

    They operate a little differently than the Pitbull Knights, who are simr in that once they''re out there, they''re always out for blood, but they''re also willing to assassinate on asion.

    Overall, however, their ratings are simr, and that''s why the Count of Boston Terriers and the Count of Great Dane are now baring their teeth and snarling at each other.

    "You sandbags who can''t even show your teeth without a letter, trying to ruin somebody''s nephew''s future, eh, where''s your conscience?"

    "You must have exiled your concepts to the distant North Seas, where your only skill is killing your opponents by dirty tricks. Do not pollute my nephew''s chivalry."

    "Dirty and sleazy? See if we can get you a set of shiny armor so you can put on a show."

    "I''ll be the first to admit that you do nothing but good for others, you dirty dog."

    All of this bickering is in an effort to recruit the highly anticipated super-rookie Vikir to their respective knighthoods.

    If they can recruit Vikir, whose stock is at an all-time high, they will not only bring all of Vikir''s stories and aplishments under their umbre, but also the future of the Knights.

    It would be exciting for the Knights to have someone of Vikir''s caliber who had already reached the mid-level of the Graduator at only seventeen years of age.

    Moreover, it is the custom of the House of Baskerville to admire, love, and revere strength itself, and the two Counts were no exception.

    The same goes for the other five counts, who were unfortunately unable to attend due to distance.

    ... but.

    In truth, Vikir had no intention of joining the knights.

    "Because I''ll eat them both."

    I''ll have the other five, the seven great knights of House Baskerville, all under my feet.

    The idea of swallowing the entire Baskervilles whole. It''s a n I''ve had in mind for the past seventeen years, ever since my return.

    But for now, the dispute is certainly troubling.

    The confrontation between the two counts, a Boston Terrier and a Great Dane, who were constantly barking at each other over Vikir, was bing increasingly heated.

    Caught between a rock and a hard ce, Vikir turned away with a puzzled expression on his face.

    He turned to Hugo, the patriarch and host of the great banquet, for help.

    ... but.

    "?"

    Vikir couldn''t help but express his disbelief.

    Hugo had been watching the two half-siblings argue with an amused expression on his face.

 Chapter 112: The Great Banquet (4)

    <h4>Chapter 112: The Great Banquet (4)</h4>

    "...?"

    Vikir''s mouth dropped open slightly in disbelief.

    Hugo, the patriarch of the family and organizer of the Great Banquet, had been watching his siblings argue with an amused expression on his face.

    The Boston Terrier and the Great Dane continued to argue.

    Both dogs are normally more likely to bite than bark, but in Hugo''s presence, they seem to be restrained.

    Vikir studied Hugo''s expression.

    ''...Why is he smiling like that? No way.''

    It didn''t take him long toe to a conclusion.

    Every day in Baskerville, there are fierce battles.

    Patriarch. Below him, under the umbre of the Seventh Count, there are countless lines, each with its own independent factions.

    Beyond the shadows, assassinations, framings, duels, mergers, acquisitions, and deals are made in a bloody game of nerves and politics.

    It''s not umon for one faction to keep another in check, and Hugo, the pinnacle of the Ironde family, is no exception.

    It''s his job to keep an eye on his half-brothers and sisters who are rising in power within the family, as well as those from outside the family.

    Ironically, the brother he should be closest to is the most feared enemy within the Baskervilles.

    Hugo''s greatest enemy, then, was the Seventh Count.

    A fight between a Boston Terrier and a Great Dane would eventually lead to a split in the Count''s ranks, which in turn would lead to more power for the Patriarch.

    So Hugo probably wouldn''t condemn this kind of power struggle among the counts.

    In fact, he would likely encourage it.

    "A cunning man, indeed."

    Vikir clicked his tongue.

    Suddenly, Hugo''s eyes shifted to Vikir.

    When Vikir lowered his gaze to his te, Hugo spoke in a low voice.

    "It''s good to see my son being recognized."

    What the hell is that supposed to mean?

    Vikir looks up and sees Hugo''s face, still wearing an extremely faint smile.

    It''s an extremely faint smile.

    As Vikir stood there dumbfounded, Butler Barrymore sneaked up behind him and whispered in his ear.

    "It is said that all seven of the Counts wished to attend the great banquet, all to see you, though the other five were too far away toe."

    "... Is that so?"

    "The patriarch seems to be in a good mood, seeing his usually high-minded and dutiful siblings so restless. I wonder whose child you are."

    Vikir turned his head again.

    ...So that smile wasn''t just him taking pleasure in seeing his siblings'' division?

    That he was actually happy to see his son recognized?

    "It can''t be."

    Vikir shook his head.

    Not Hugo, who had no blood or tears.

    Vikir shook his head and tried to focus on the meal.

    Soon, the meal began to enter its main course.

    One main dish after another.

    It didn''t take long before the table was set with an enormous feast.

    "Thank God it''s not haggis anymore."

    Vikir felt a little better knowing that he wouldn''t have to eat the tasteless, filling haggis anymore.

    Meanwhile.

    "I see our Count Dane is trying to eat things raw again. Nature cannot be fooled."

    "How many sses of wine have you had already? I think you''re very drunk. Go to bed."

    The Boston Terrier and Great Dane were still fighting.

    By now, they realized that growling at each other was a losing proposition.

    And from then on, they both tried to get one more word out of Vikir.

    "Yeah. Vikir, you''ve spent thest two years living in the depths of the ck Mountains with your enemies, so tell me about your experiences. This uncle is very curious. How many barbarians have you in, and how many beasts have you torn apart? Ah! My blood boils just thinking about it! The blood of a pit bull, I mean, in my day, when I was eight years old, and had just been dropped by the enemy into the depths of the ck Mountains to take my practical examination, and had justpeted with my brother Patriach in a hunt; but my nephew has done more than that, and I am very proud of him!"

    "My brave and clever nephew, this uncle will not ask you such frivolous things. Of course, I am very curious to know how my dear nephew spent his time in the treacherous depht, but that is for you to read in your reportter. But this uncle wants to ask you something else first. I know it''s awkwarding home after two years, so if you need anything, just say so. This uncle will get you anything...."

    Even the servants hupped in surprise at the normally reticent pair showing such a vulnerable side.

    Vikir smiled weakly.

    The Boston Terrier was openly curious about Vikir''s life in the depths, and so was the Great Dane, though he pretended not to be.

    But Hugo cut him off.

    "Just let him eat, don''t be too polite."

    He put his arm around Vikir.

    The two counts grunted and stepped back while Vikir was still adjusting to this strange favor.

    "Still, as a true uncle, I am curious to see how my nephew has grown over the past two years...."

    "That''s right. I can''t help but wonder how much my nephew, who was so amazing two years ago, has aplished in the meantime, so I rode my horse all those miles...."

    The two counts still couldn''t let go of their regrets. Hugo''s brow furrowed slightly.

    "So. Are you saying you''re going to torture my son right here at the table?"

    "Well, not that."

    "...ck."

    Even the Seventh Count doesn''t cower in the face of Hugo''s momentum.

    The Boston Terrier and Great Dane look away, unable to find the main event.

    Then.

    A voice saves them both.

    "Proof of aplishment is not difficult."

    It was Vikir.

    Vikir''s words brought color to the faces of the Boston Terrier and the Great Dane.

    Hugo sounded unusually concerned.

    "Hmm. Still, my son, it would be tiring to talk about such things over a meal when you need to go out on the stage to prove your aplishments, and you''vee a long way."

    "It''s okay, father, and...."

    Vikir set his fork down on the table.

    Then he spoke.

    "I can show you my skills anytime, anywhere. Life is all about practice, isn''t it?"

    At that, the faces of Hugo, the Boston Terrier, and the Great Dane brightened with satisfaction.

    "Brother. You sure did a good job raising your son."

    "That''s right, and if I had a son like that, I''d really wish for nothing."

    "Hmph. Enough of that. What''s this...."

    Hugo turns away, tugging at his mustache.

    Butler Barrymore watched him with an amused expression.

    "By the way, how do you prove your skills?"

    The Boston Terrier asks.

    The Great Dane stares at Vikir inquisitively, too.

    Vikir doesn''t answer.

    He simply raised his hand and ced it still on the table.

    "...."

    There was a slight pause.

    Then, after a long moment of silence, Vikir''s mouth opened.

    "I think Uncle Dane''s steak is slightly undercooked."

    At the same time, Vikir turned his head to look at the Boston Terrier.

    "Uncle Terrier has too much wine in his ss."

    With that, the Boston Terrier and the Great Dane looked at each other''s steaks and wine.

    Then.

    Something amazing happened.

    Tsk, tsk, tsk...

    Vikir''s hand twitched, and the utensils on the table rattled slightly.

    The Boston Terrier and the Great Dane immediately took their hands off the table.

    The mana from Vikir''s body was flowing onto the table.

    And then.

    A strange phenomenon urred before the two counts'' eyes.

    chiiiiig...

    The Great Dane''s steak began to sizzle and cook.

    Nothing changed around them, but only one side of the steak was being cooked by the intense heat.

    The blood dried and steam rose.

    The steak had gone from rare to well-done.

    "...Hurr."

    The Great Dane picked up his fork.

    The fork was right next to the te of steak, but it wasn''t hot at all.

    He dug in, and the meat was firm, with just the slightest hint of charring.

    Meanwhile.

    "Kahahahaha!"

    The Boston terrier was alsoughing, looking at the ss of wine in front of him.

    Bubbling, bubbling, bubbling...

    The wine in the silver goblet boils purple.

    In the blink of an eye, the wine turned to vapor and disappeared, sending a sweet smell throughout the banquet hall.

    The bubbling wine reached the waist of the goblet and stopped boiling.

    Exactly half of it had vaporized and disappeared.

    Just by cing his palm on the table, he cooked meat and brewed wine.

    He could touch things and channel mana into them, causing them to explode exactly where he wanted them to.

    What would happen if that was applied to swordsmanship?

    You would be able to channel mana into your sword and produce an aura of the desired strength and viscosity at the desired point.

    And that''s what the world calls it.

    "Graduator."

    Before Swordmaster. The most mature stage a great swordsman can reach. They symbolize the power of the Empire.

    Vikir was an intermediate Graduator, a level that even the geniuses of Baskerville could only reach around the age of thirty-five.

    A seventeen year old Intermediate Graduator. The youngest ever.

    It was enough to shatter all official records of the Baskervilles up to this point.

 Chapter 113: The Great Banquet (5)

    <h4>Chapter 113: The Great Banquet (5)</h4>

    The Boston Terrier lifted the goblet of wine that had been bubbling just moments before and downed it in one gulp.

    The Great Dane swallowed arge chunk of steaming meat in one gulp, too.

    "This must be my nephew''s brew, the vor is wonderful!"

    "Meat cooked with the Graduator''s aura, what a delicacy."

    The two counts began to stare at Vikir in the center with intense eyes.

    No matter what, they wanted to bring Vikir back to their knights.

    Meanwhile. Vikir thought to himself.

    ''Perhaps it''s best that I only reveal my Intermediate Graduator.''

    In fact, he had shown glimpses of this power a few times before.

    I''d done something simr when I blew up the Champagne Tower in Club Burning Suspension, and I''d unleashed this much power when I first met the Madame of the Depht.

    The difference now is that his hidden abilities have reached the highest levels of the Graduator.

    With his previous life''s power fully restored, the blessing of the Styx River, the Baskerville-style Superior Sword Technique, and the demon sword Beelzebub, he was confident that in a one-on-one match, he would be a match for the current Seventh Count.

    "By the way, are you saying that the Intermediate Graduator skill you briefly demonstrated two years ago hasn''t spread to anyone yet?"

    Vikir nced over to the head of the great feast table.

    There, the triplets �C Highbrow, Midbrow, and Lowbrow �C were sitting and eating in silence.

    "...."

    "...."

    "...."

    From the looks of it, they hadn''t reported theirst encounter in the depths to Hugo.

    I don''t know why.

    ''Still, it was helpful. I wonder if I should have revealed my advanced Graduator level.''

    I''m d I was able to keep my power to a minimum.

    Vikir picked up his fork, knowing that he would have to enforce the High, Mid, and Low Bro''s mouths once again after the great banquet.

    Meanwhile.

    The Boston Terrier and Great Dane couldn''t stop praising Vikir''s aplishment.

    "To cook meat and brew liquor just by touching the table and creating a mana resonance, that''s no ordinary mana proficiency. Hehe, that''s amazing, and I was an advanced Sword Expert at best at that age."

    "That''s a mana control that would be impossible to achieve unless you''re at least an Intermediate Graduator. This must be an all-time genius in Baskerville, because I was at that level when I was thirty-three."

    The average hound in Baskerville would not have been able to reach this level until they were thirty-five.

    He did it at the mere age of 17. He was nearly two decades ahead of the curve.

    The Boston Terrier and Great Dane looked at Hugo and eximed.

    "An intermediate graduator! What I didn''t aplish until I was thirty-three, and at only seventeen! What a slope!"

    "Hahaha, I''m sure you''ll be pleased, brother. This is a triumph for the entire family. A toast to my proud nephew''s aplishment!"

    The two men lookedpletely mesmerized.

    Even Hugo was smiling broadly at the situation.

    The corners of his mouth turned up in a way that made it clear he was smiling.

    Soon, Hugo and the two counts were talking about Vikir.

    More than 90 percent of the conversation centered around a request to send Vikir to join their knights.

    When the adults'' attention is momentarily diverted.

    A new voice spoke to him.

    "Little brother."

    urate pronunciation, cold voice.

    Vikir turned his head in the direction of the voice.

    There he saw long hair hanging like a ck curtain, and red eyes shining through it.

    "Osiris Les Baskervilles.

    Currently the strongest Late Exponent of the Baskerville family. First in line for the family session. The man in line for the position of Small Householder, acting in the absence of the Householder.

    He was currently sitting diagonally across from Vikir, looking this way.

    "...."

    Vikir met Osiris''s eyes.

    A tiny absolute, a being so arrogant and high-minded that he hadn''t dared to look him in the eye before his regression.

    But now Vikir had the skill and strength to face such a being with dignity.

    Vikir met Osiris'' gaze without flinching.

    Finally, Osiris spoke.

    "You worked hard."

    Vikir''s pupils dted slightly at the words.

    He was surprised that the man had spoken to him first, but apliment? It was unthinkable, given his pre-regression image.

    But the surprise didn''t stop there.

    "Well done. Keep up the good work."

    Osiris continued to give Vikir a series of virtuous words.

    His voice is still cold, his expression unchanged, and a normal person would think he was angry.

    The younger Vikir, before his regression, had thought so, too.

    But as he grew older, he realized that was not the case.

    Osiris''s expression and voice were certainly icy cold, but there was a tiny, slight warmth underneath.

    A warmth that could not be expressed in face, gesture, or words.

    A warmth that was so clumsy, it was clear that even he didn''t know how to express it.

    ''...Now that I think about it, you weren''t so scary after all.''

    Vikir thought to himself as he bowed to Osiris.

    Why did he seem so frightening before the regression? Was it because he was the family patriarch? Was it because of his arrogant, high-minded expression and voice? Was it because of the vast disparity in status and power? Was it simply because he was more than ten years older than him?

    But Osiris, as he is now, is much younger than Vikir actually is.

    It was then that the clumsiness and awkwardness of Osiris began toe into focus.

    The way he''s not very good with a knife, the way he picks and chooses what he doesn''t like to eat, the way his face crumples at the mere smell of a very weak drink, the way he can only straighten out a crumpled napkin if he''s forced to do it over and over again....

    ''He was surprisingly human.''

    Once you get past the stereotype of the untouchable celestial overlord, you start to see the real him.

    Osiris Les Baskervilles.

    He was not the perfect, bloodless, tearless superhuman as the world had known him, and as Vikir had remembered him before his regression.

    Just then.

    "Wow. Big brotherplimenting little brother, that''s amazing."

    A new voice spoke from Vikir''s side.

    Turning his head, Vikir saw a handsome man with unusually white and pale skin winking at him.

    A handsome man with ck hair and red eyes with deep dark circles.

    He was Set Les Baskervilles, Hugo''s second son.

    He smiled in a friendly way and spoke softly to Vikir.

    "I''ve never seen Osiris praise someone like that, or smile so wide with such joy."

    ...Was that a smile?

    Vikir nced away and looked at Osiris.

    Osiris was slicing a steak with an expressionless face.

    It was still a look that could be mistaken for anger.

    "That''s why everyone feared Osiris before the regression."

    But that was a smile, and it''s amazing to hear it again.

    "...."

    When Vikir was speechless, Set smirked.

    "You have a poker face like your brother Osiris, don''t you? Well, everyone in my family does. Blunt and all. It''s a shame."

    Unlike Osiris, and unlike anyone else in the family, Set was expressive.

    Vikir watched as Set smiled wistfully.

    Set Baskerville, as Vikir remembered him, was a good man.

    Despite hisck of talent with the sword and hisck ofpassion, he cared for everyone in the house.

    A gentle man who would listen to the difort of a maid, even if that maid was new to the house.

    The only one of his immediate family toy chrysanthemums on the tombstones of his dead hounds.

    I can still see him weeping for his father, who had no blood or tears, and for all his brothers, who were dying for him.

    On days when he was ignored by his father or brother as a weakling, he would go to the flower garden by himself and let his tears fall.

    And that was true even now, after his regression.

    Hugo and Osiris had all but ignored Set.

    It was only natural that Set, the underdog, should be ignored by the powerful Baskervilles.

    So Vikir had pitied and respected Set in his heart before he was turned.

    He had fallen into his line and worked for him, even though he had nothing to gain.

    He had pitied Set for being so soft-hearted, and he had admired him for putting up with it and being so good to hounds like himself.

    ... But now it was different.

    Vikir reyed in his mind the information Sindhiwendi had given him yesterday.

    <Set Les Baskervilles>

    Rank: Underdog city magistrate and senator.

    Title: Viscount

    Rank: Intermediate Graduator

    Other: Second son of Hugo Les Baskervilles, the patriarch of House Baskerville. Currently second in line of session.

    .

    .

    Gentle and warm personality. Weaknesses. No talent for swordsmanship. Hated by Hugo. Well-liked by all the lesser members of the family. Has been away from the Underdogs for a long time. Stepped out briefly for a great banquet during his closing exercises...

    A rambling list of information that Vikir already knew.

    But at the end of it, there was a line that even Vikir had never seen before.

    ''Set Les Baskervilles'' is assumed to be non-human.

 Chapter 114: The Great Banquet (6)

    <h4>Chapter 114: The Great Banquet (6)</h4>

    Set Les Baskervilles. He had been speaking to Vikir in a gentle, friendly manner since earlier.

    "How is it to be home after a long time? Is it hard to adjust? Does your brother help you?"

    "My father and brother are a bit cold, aren''t they, but they''re being incredibly gentle with you, because you''re young and talented, and for someone like me who has no talent, they''re like icy...."

    "Try this, too. It''s specially prepared by my favorite chef. It''s delicious, isn''t it? Sturgeon roe baked with cream~"

    "I''lle to your roomter, so tell me about your experience in the depht. I''m weak, so I''m always in the medical or pulmonary training hall. Oh, my training hall is also very close to Underdog City, where you were the deputy chief!"

    "Come to think of it, thanks to you, the city of Underdog became much more peaceful, right? It''s a good thing. Originally, I should have been there as an deputy... ... I have a weak body and little talent, so it is a burden to sit in an important seat."

    "It would be nice to have a brother as capable as you to help me run things, haha-"

    Seth talks to Vikir constantly for the sake of not making him feel awkward.

    He even greets the servants who bring him food one by one.

    A normal half-breed hound would be overwhelmed by this kindness and friendliness from Set.

    So would Vikir before the regression.

    But.

    The post-Regression Vikir is different.

    "...."

    Vikir stared into Set''s face as he spoke softly to him.

    For a long time, Set had been unusually good-hearted and caring for the people around him.

    Because of this, he was not well-liked by Hugo or Osiris, and because of this, he was always sad and sullen.

    The younger Vikir, before his regression, had a liking for him.

    ... but.

    Now, as a seasoned veteran of the Age of Destruction and an iron-blooded hound, Vikir saw Set in a different light.

    ''Set Les Baskervilles'' was presumably not human.

    Vikir recalled the information Sindiwendi had sent himst night.

    In truth, he didn''t need to recall it.

    The stench from Set''s mouth had been making him sick to his stomach.

    The kind of odor that would make even the most squeamish Vikir struggle to keep a straight face.

    But no one else in the vicinity could smell the stench emanating from Set.

    Vikir knew exactly what it was.

    "It''s the smell of a demon."

    This intense stench, a mixture of soaking intestines and rotting corpses, could only be smelled by hounds from the Age of Destruction.

    Before my return, I was numb to the smell of the world because it was so omnipresent, but when I smelled it in the peaceful world after my return, I knew it at once.

    Fahrr...

    It was an unholy scent, so foul that even Beelzebub, who lurked in the veins of his arteries, and even the wraith of Madame, who was imprisoned in Beelzebub''s orb, were frightened.

    ''Why does Set''s body emit such a foul odor?''

    Vikir quickly regained hisposure.

    Next, Vikir sipped from his goblet.

    The red glistening surface reflected the images of Hugo, Osiris, and Set.

    But.

    To Vikir''s surprise, there were only two reflections in the ss.

    Hugo and Osiris. There was no reflection of Set in the ss.

    ''See?''

    Vikir wondered to himself.

    Demons. Beings of the demonic realm.

    They are generally divided into demons and beasts.

    The difference between the two is that demons refer to higher demons with spirituality, while demonic beasts refer to monsters.

    This is simr to the distinction between humans and animals.

    While a typical demonic beast can be seen in a mirror and reflected in water..., this was not the case with demons.

    They cannot be seen in mirrors or water unless they use special magic to deliberately conceal their appearance.

    It''s something that everyone will learn (and pay for expensive lessons) in the Age of Destruction, but for now, no one knows.

    ...Except for Vikir, that is.

    ''You let your guard down, Set.''

    Vikir thought as he drained his ss.

    Set had be too arrogant to even bother watching his ss.

    He might be wearing the shell of the second son, but underneath, he was likely apletely different person.

    Vikir recalled the testimonies of those around him about Set.

    ''Master Set, he''s a good man. When he was younger, he was blunt and cold, like most of the other Baskervillians, but since... ''that unfortunate incident,'' he''s changed a lot. I''d say he''s be softer.''

    ''What? The unfortunate incident? Oh, by the way, I''m only telling you this for Master Vikir''s sake... In fact, Master Set once attempted suicide, the night he was severely scolded by his master for hisck of talent....''

    ''Luckily, we caught him early enough to save his life, but he was so traumatized by it that he''s beenpletely gentle and affectionate ever since, probably because of that near-death experience....''

    Once upon a time, Vikir had started a small fire in Baskerville''s great library.

    He had covered it up for the servants when they became restless, and they had been friendly to him ever since.

    Based on the information he''d gotten from the servants, Vikir reasoned.

    ''The real Set probably died that day, and the ... demon took over the empty shell.''

    Suddenly, another thought urred to him.

    Generally speaking, for demons, the blood of human children is treated as a medicine.

    As Sindiwendi''s investigation revealed, therge-scale abduction in Underdog was not just focused on abduction.

    Orphans have disappeared from numerous orphanages and childcare foundations.

    They were adopted here and there through formal or informal channels, and then all were lost.

    They only existed on paper.

    Sindiwendi used money and informants to track down the missing children.

    Thest ce they had inmon was the training center where Set Les Baskervilles was practicing.

    It''s a neighborhood not far from the city of Underdog.

    "After I took over a childcare foundation, I investigated the adoption route of the children in the name of donations, and I finally found out about this illegally.

    I can see Sindiwendi''s face in my head.

    Vikir listened very carefully, for this was also the reason why he had been executed before his regression.

    Demons suck the blood of children.

    Vikir, who was serving Set at the time, was used of being in league with the demons because arge number of bones with the blood of young children were found in the cer near his room.

    And executed. He regressed.

    ''Maybe... really maybe, Hugo is not guilty.''

    It was unlikely, but not impossible.

    Hugo, who knew nothing, might have executed Vikir out of sheer selfishness.

    He might have been fooled by the conspiracy of his second son, Set.

    Vikir thought grimly.

    "The question is, how far has Set''s soul eroded?"

    A stench this strong means it''s almost 100% consumed.

    Set must have harbored a lot of resentment, hatred, inferiorityplexes,ck of affection, and self-destructive feelings towards his father and brother before he died, and that''s how you open the door to your soul and invite demons in.

    Vikir stroked his chin once.

    The realization that the only master he had ever followed before his regression was actually the mastermind of the Dead Dog Cooking does not shake him.

    Instead, I felt my blood run cold.

    But Set, unaware of Vikir''s secret, continued to speak to him in a friendly manner.

    "So, little brother, which of the Knights do you like best? I like the Wolfhounds the best. Well, pit bulls and mastiffs are good, too. Oh, and personally, I used to like the Doberman Knights best when I was a kid, they have the coolest uniforms!"

    "...."

    "So, now that you''re back home, what are you going to do, get into the academy after all? Well, that''s what your brother Osiris did. Or are you going to stay on at Underdog as a Deputy Magistrate, I heard your favorite citizens were protesting for a permanent position? Maybe we can work together when I return to the Magistrate''s office!"

    Set rambled on while Vikir stabbed a piece of meat with his fork.

    Vikir was just about to frown at the foul odor from Set''s mouth.

    "Moderation."

    Osiris interrupted Set.

    When Set shut up, Osiris spoke in a cold tone.

    "How chatty you are, even though you haven''t finished your meal."

    "...."

    "Finish your meal and don''t interrupt your brother''s meal with your chatter."

    With that, Set shut up and bowed his head.

    Vikir was finally freed from the stench of demons on Set''s breath.

    ''It''s different seeing you like this.''

    Vikir pulled back slightly and watched the rtionship between Osiris and Set.

    The younger Vikir, before the regression, would have understood what had just happened as Osiris persecuting Set.

    What had just happened would have been seen as the cold and arrogant firstborn driving a wedge between the other middle children.

    In fact, the servants around him were making eye contact, indicating that Osiris had gone too far.

    They pitied Set, who shook his head in disbelief.

    But only then did Vikir see the rtionship between Osiris and Set.

    Osiris felt an indescribable difort and distance from Set, which was why he was trying to keep his other siblings away from him.

    This is why he frowned at Set whenever he opened his mouth, as if he smelled a bad odor.

    In other words, Osiris''s genius instincts and senses are subconsciously disliking Set''s demonic nature.

    It was the same with Hugo.

    ''...So perhaps I, who served under Set before my regression, had a chin to look good on.''

    Vikir turned and looked at Osiris.

    Though cold and distant, there was a glimmer of humanity beneath.

    So much more human than Hugo.

    Besides, Osiris had been looking out for Vikir, a neer to the Great Banquet, in his own way.

    Even if it was in his own way.

    "Vikir. Knife #3 should not be held in your hand."

    "Tilt the te to the other side. Don''t make a scraping sound with your utensils."

    "You need to brush up on your aristocratic dining etiquette. Napkins are not folded in that direction."

    It may seem like a high-pressure lecture, but it''s really just a way to keep an eye on your younger brother to make sure he doesn''t make a mistake in front of your father or other adults in the house.

    And there was no reason to be offended because he was only pointing out the things that were wrong, and he only chose the right words.

    If there''s something wrong, you just fix it, and Osiris doesn''t say much about the improvement.

    Of course, if it were a normal child, they would have been scared and cowered.

    ''He''s a bit of a jerk, but... doesn''t seem as bad as I thought he was.''

    Not so with Vikir.

    After three scoldings, Vikir demonstrated such good table manners that he didn''t need to be scolded anymore.

    Only then did Osiris'' lips curl into a slight smile of satisfaction.

    "I see. Now there''s a bit of nobility."

    The clumsy warmth grows a little stronger.

    * * *

    With that, the long meal came to an end.

    The Baskerville family''s Great Banquet takes two hours for the appetizers alone and about five hours for the entire meal.

    By the time it was over, it was nearly midnight.

    Vikir was about to leave the banquet hall.

    "... wait."

    Hugo stopped him.

    "There''s something I need to talk to you about, son."

    "Yes, Father."

    Vikir stood upright in front of Hugo.

    Hugo stared at him for a moment, then spoke.

    "No, no. It''ste today, soe back tomorrow morning."

    "Do you have any further engagements after midnight?"

    "No, I don''t. I just thought you might be tired."

    Vikir was surprised again.

    Even though he had no ns afterward, Hugo was willing to wait until tomorrow morning because he was afraid he''d be tired?

    This Hugo who only knew his own time?

    He was the kind of man who would turn on the lights of the entire castle and rouse all the humans from their slumber at midnight or dawn if he had to.

    He would put off speaking to his son until the morning for dread of his tiredness.

    The servants drew the curtains of the western windows early, instead of the eastern ones, for the sun might rise in the west tomorrow.

    Vikir''s tongue was still in his cheek.

    "...."

    Vikir bowed his head, his expression nonchnt.

    Then, as Hugo left the banquet hall, Vikir and Butler Barrymore were alone.

    Butler Barrymore turned to Vikir with a smirk on his face.

    "Perhaps the Lord is calling to discuss your admission to the Academy. Congrattions in advance, Master."

    "How do you know that?"

    Vikir asked, and Butler Barrymore spoke in a tone of certainty, as if he had known it would happen.

    "Because I received a letter from the Academyst night announcing the new ss."

 Chapter 115: The Great Banquet (7)

    <h4>Chapter 115: The Great Banquet (7)</h4>

    Vikir left the main hall where the Great Banquet was being held.

    He had just stepped out of the main gate and turned into the path between the training grounds and the castle.

    "...."

    Vikir had to stop in his tracks at the mouth of the training grounds.

    There was life beyond the bushes, a tant hallucination.

    Then a ck stalk snaked toward him.

    An aura as sticky as honey and as red as blood, a sword strike that only a Top Graduator could unleash.

    Six teeth sliced through the air, aiming for Vikir.

    ''Should I fight back?''

    Vikir thought for a moment.

    An attack of that caliber could be blocked and countered.

    But Vikir was only an Intermediate Graduator, and there were only so many ways he could react in a situation like this.

    Vikir draws his longsword from his belt, deflects the blow, and rolls to the side to correct his stance.

    The number of teeth Vikir drew in that brief moment was four. Six teeth that flew out.

    Four of the teeth bumped into each other and canceled each other out, leaving only two teeth aimed at Vikir.

    Vikir decided to just take them with his body.

    With the protection of the Styx River, Vikir''s body instantly turned to ck iron.

    kkaang! ttang!

    Unsurprisingly, the sword, which contained an intermediate Graduator aura broke into two, and a handful of the hem of the cloak was torn off.

    Quack, quack, quack!

    The strike flew off in a deflected trajectory, leaving arge scar on the ground.

    The two teeth that made contact with his body scattered on their own before he could fight off Styx''s protection.

    "...!"

    Vikir realized that the attack hadn''t flown to harm him in the first ce.

    Instead, he heardughtering from beyond the bushes.

    "My nephew, you''re grown up."

    The Earl of Boston Terrier. One of the Seven Counts, he smiled wryly at Vikir.

    Vikir straightened his stance in front of the Boston Terrier. He stood in front of the Boston Terrier and straightened his stance.

    The Boston Terrier''s eyes sparkled as he realized that Vikir was even more precious.

    Then.

    "Who goes on a rampage with a knife in the house?"

    Someone stood between the Boston Terrier and Vikir.

    A hulking man, his ck hair whipping around him. It was the Earl of Great Dane.

    He red at the Boston Terrier.

    "Attempted murder," he said, "and if your brother knows about it, you''ll be on probation for at least a few months."

    "Do not discredit your uncle''s affection for his niece."

    "Affection? Hiding and letting go of the sword is affection?"

    "Kids grow up fighting."

    "You''re a f*cking kid, are you?"

    At the Great Dane''s words, the Boston Terrier bared his teeth under his sunsses.

    "Stay out of the next pit bull''s business and go on your way."

    "The next pit bull? Maybe the next mastiff. I can''t believe we''re sending our darling niece to such a ragtag bunch of misfits."

    "A bunch of big mutt bastards, begging for their lives with their guts spilling out at the slightest crack in their stomachs."

    "Hoo hoo hoo. You''re so big, there''s no skin to tear."

    The Boston Terrier leading the pit bulls and the Great Dane leading the mastiffs were snarling at each other tensely, neither giving an inch.

    Now that there was no hugo, they could go at it with impunity.

    "Good! Whoever wins here gets Vikir!"

    "Anything for the future of my beloved nephew!"

    The two counts drew their swords and faced each other.

    "...."

    Vikir had long since walked away.

    ''Troublesome people.''

    He''d expected the brash Count Boston Terrier to be pestering him to show him exactly what he was capable of.

    It was a good thing he had an opponent, the Count of Great Danes, who was a bit of a handful.

    Meanwhile, Vikir recalled the force of the earlier blow.

    ''That was more than I expected.''

    Before the regression, the Seventh Counts were the highest level of Graduators, and the current Seventh Counts were equally aplished.

    Vikir was also a top Graduator, but the difference between them was in the level of swordsmanship they used.

    Now, however, Vikir had mastered the seventh form of Baskerville and was more aplished than the seventy counts who had mastered the sixth form of Baskerville.

    And with the protection of the River Styx and the power of the magic sword Beelzebub?

    ''I can take on one seventh count, but not two.''

    Who would believe that this was an aplishment at only seventeen?

    Vikir closed his eyes, nning his next move.

    "Brother!"

    He hears another voice calling out to him from behind.

    He turns to see what it is, and a sickening stench hits his nostrils.

    Set Les Baskerville. Hugo''s second son.

    He''s looking at Vikir with a big smile on his face.

    "Where are you sleeping tonight?"

    "...."

    "If you don''t have ns, why don''t you sleep at my castle, it''s not far from here."

    Vikir watched Set''s mouth twitch with excitement.

    What in the world lurked beneath that shell that made him reek so badly?

    Perhaps it is evil, but it is not ordinary evil.

    We already have some evidence that Set is responsible for numerous kidnappings and the disappearance of adopted children, thanks to the testimony of Sindiwendi and Chihuahua.

    This was also the most damning and conclusive of the usations against Vikir before his regression.

    "...And there was more."

    Some of the additional information that Sindiwendi brought to the table were things that Vikir hadn''t even guessed about.

    For example, it was Set''s mother who sent two venomous snakes to Vikir''s cradle when he was an infant, and it was Set who kidnapped Hugo''s oldest daughter, Penelope, from the Rococo tribe.

    Sindiwendi uncovered how Set''s men had purchased two bloody mambas from the natives of Depht seventeen years earlier, and further uncovered how Penelope''s walking route and itinerary had been leaked to the Rococo.

    Both were uncovered while preparing to trade with the tribes of Depht on Vikir''s behalf.

    ''How fitting, then, that it was Ahheman of Bk who sold the Bloody Mamba ....''

    Vikir smiled dryly. He had unintentionally paid off a debt from his infancy.

    Well, whatever.

    The reason Set hadn''t been taken as a suspect was because he''d been ying his usual good-natured, soft-spoken self.

    He wouldn''t have been a suspect at all if he hadn''t been wearing a child''s body at the time.

    So Vikir could only stare at the set, or rather, the shell of a set, in front of him now, and stare at this strange thing that had been pressed against Baskerville Street for decades.

    "So, little brother, what are you going to do now,e back as the Underdog''s Deputy Commissar or enter the Academy?"

    Set remained at Vikir''s side, trying to be friendly.

    Then. A voice interrupted him.

    "I said moderation, Set."

    Osiris. He rode in on his horse, separating Set and Vikir once again.

    He turned to Vikir and Set with a stern look.

    "Do not speak loudly in the presence of nature, and since it iste at night, we will save this conversation for another time."

    A stranger would have thought he was a jerk.

    Vikir, before his regression, had thought simrly.

    But having read Osiris''s true intentions, Vikir simply bowed his head.

    "I''ll see you next time and say hello, brothers."

    Osiris'' expression softens slightly at Vikir''s words, while Set''s face hardened.

    But it''s hard to tell if it''s praise or resentment.

    Vikir''s demeanor was very formal, and as such, not exactly wless.

    The eldest son spoke, and with good reason. It was the elder son''s word against the younger son''s.

    Even Osiris could not help but admire Vikir''s skillful way of looking out for his own interests in the most neutral and objective way possible.

    * * *

    There are many castles in Baskerville that have been around for a long time.

    As a result, there are many remote and hidden corners.

    Vikir hade to Yuasa Castle today in search of a temporary ce to stay.

    His room, where he had spent many hours as a child.

    He crossed the entrance to a flooded cer and climbed a spiral staircase through abandoned food storage and unrepaired cracks.

    Vikir walked through these dank corridors, recalling memories from decades ago.

    A moment.

    A strange sense of d��j�� vu hits him.

    Vikir stopped in his tracks and turned his head.

    There was a scene that reminded him of ten years ago.

    The triplets of House Baskerville, aka the Trident of Baskerville.

    Highbrow Les Baskervilles, Midbrow Les Baskervilles, and Lowbrow Les Baskervilles.

    The half-brothers, who hadn''t spoken a word to each other since meeting at the Great Banquet, stood.

    Now eighteen years old, they had grown to full height, and their jawlines had thickened.

    "...."

    "...."

    "...."

    They still had the same stiff demeanor whenever they were in Vikir''s presence.

    Vikir, meanwhile, wore a dry smile.

    It''s pretty obvious what he''s waiting for in this dingy, remote ce at sword-point.

    "What?"

    I asked, ready to draw my sword at a moment''s notice.

    And then.

    Thud.

    The triplets wordlessly drew the swords from their waists.

    They didn''t emit any auras, but the energy emanating from their bodies seemed to have some sort of hard resolve.

    ''I must kill them.''

    Vikir made a decision. A hound that can''t cover its shit and sinks its teeth in like this is no answer.

    A killing blow.

    This was a good time to bury what happened in the depht two years ago.

    ...?

    The triplets then began to react in a way that even Vikir hadn''t anticipated.

    ...shaking.

    All three knelt on their right knees in front of Vikir, heads bowed.

    The tips of their drawn swords rested on the insteps of their right feet, the tips of their handles pointed at Vikir.

    "...?"

    Vikir''s face contorted in bewilderment.

    This was the oath of the knights of the Empire when they met their destined masters.

 Chapter 116: Falling in Love (1)

    <h4>Chapter 116: Falling in Love (1)</h4>

    The sun was beginning to rise.

    First thing in the morning, Vikir did as Hugo had instructed him at the banquetst night.

    "Enter the Academy."

    Hugo''s tone was still blunt.

    A sheet of paper was slid in front of Vikir.

    It was a home letter announcing that the Academy was recruiting new students for the new semester.

    <Academy ''Colosseo'' is recruiting new students for the 20th ss>

    Application submission: November 04, 19th year of the imperial calendar ~ November 26th, 19th year of the imperial calendar

    ss period: 8 semesters (4 years)

    Entrance date: January 1, 20th Imperial Year

    Academy Colosseo. Arge-scale collective educational institution in Imperial Rock.

    It has a staggering number of students, over 7,000, and if you count the post-academy students, the number is over 20,000.

    The number of faculty and staff alone reached 4,000.

    Considered one of the greatest institutions of higher learning in the history of mankind, the Colosseo attracts students from many families, including the seven families that hold the Empire together.

    Every noble young man in the Empire considers it a lifelong honor to be admitted, and indeed, graduates of the Academy have proudly served as elite members of the Imperial family and in the highest ranks of society.

    From the first Emperor of Imperial Rock, most of the heads of the Seven Great Families have already graduated from the Academy, as well as billionaires of all kinds, heads of thergest guilds, renowned schrs, and other social leaders who hold top positions in politics,w, business, culture, media, academia, sports, and more.

    The alumniwork was already unrivaled in the empire and the most influential of all social groups.

    "...."

    Vikir stared down at the document in front of him.

    Students at the Academy are not discriminated against during their four years here, admission and graduation are based solely on merit.

    The majority of the Academy''s students enter at the age of 20 and graduate at the age of 24, although there is some deviation.

    Academy graduates are given the option of remaining in the Imperium and working for the Empire or returning to their original families.

    Hugo had hoped to return home after the Academy, and his eldest son Osiris had followed the same path.

    And Vikir, of course, intended to follow suit.

    "I''ll be back."

    Vikir didn''t hesitate to ept Hugo''s offer.

    He''d been to the academy before, before the regression.

    ''...Of course, I wasn''t eligible for admission then.''

    He had followed the students as a hound, escorting them to various services.

    For the record, the Academy''s first ss of students were triplets: Highbrow, Midbrow, and Lowbrow.

    Hugo nodded, then turned to Vikir.

    "Do you have a brother who would like toe with you?"

    The Academy had given the Baskervilles a certain number of seats at the Academy.

    It''s a kind of seed assignment, TO was vacated, but considering the brand and name value of the Baskervilles, it''s natural.

    Vikir didn''t hesitate to answer.

    "I want to go with my brothers to the Highbrow, Midbrow, and Lowbrow."

    He had said this to Hugo before.

    Hugo still rubbed his chin in disbelief, but then he was convinced.

    "''Cause they''re the only brothers in your row that''s worth going with."

    But Vikir didn''t want to take the triplets for that reason alone.

    Naturally, his mind wandered back to the end of yesterday''s great banquet.

    '' ... It was unexpected.''

    On his way to his bedroom, Vikir had gotten a visit from the triplets.

    Sigh.

    With a strange look of determination on their faces, they drew their swords and stood in his way, intent on exterminating him, who was in more ways than one.

    To bury them, along with what happened in the depht two years ago.

    But.

    The triplets had apletely unexpected reaction.

    ...Shake!

    All three knelt on their right knees in front of Vikir, heads bowed.

    The tip of the drawn de was resting on the instep of their right foot, and the tip of the handle was pointed at Vikir.

    If the Vikir reached out and pressed, their swords would go straight through their own insteps.

    It was an act of surrendering one''s life to the other, or in dog terms, lying down on one''s stomach.

    "What are you doing?"

    Vikir asked in disbelief.

    Why would the knights of the Empire make such a vow to him, a vow that is only made when they meet their destined masters?

    The triplets answered.

    "We wish to repay you with our lives."

    "I will."

    "I will."

    Their reasoning was, in retrospect, quite surprising.

    The triplets had been afraid of Vikir ever since he had beaten them when they were nine years old.

    That fear became recognition when Vikir hunted Cerberus, and respect when Vikir killed a troll in a single blow.

    And finally. Madame of the Depht.

    The moment Vikir unleashed the Graduator''s aura on the massive creature that loomed like death itself.

    The triplets'' feelings toward Vikir changed once more.

    A sense of reverence. Respect.

    The kind of ambivalent feelings that humans have when they encounter a genius they can never surpass.

    The triplets were rescued that day, carried on the backs of their guardian knights, and saw their own powerlessness in the face of Vikir''s sun-zing strength.

    And on that day, the day they barely escaped with their lives. The three of them gathered together and vowed in unison.

    "From this day forward, we are the Trident of Vikir.

    To repay the debt of their lives that day.

    From then on, the triplets never spoke of Vikir.

    Not even about the ridiculous status he had disyed two years earlier.

    And two yearster, when Vikir returned alive, he never said that the achievements he showed had not grown at allpared to two years ago.

    They were aware. They knew that Vikir had already been a Intermediate Graduator two years ago, and that in the past two years, he had grown stronger than ever.

    But even so, they kept their master''s secret.

    ''....''

    Vikir stroked his chin silently.

    Born to be hounds, the trio needed a master to obey.

    Their skill and loyalty had been proven in theirst life.

    Before his regression, they had threatened and driven him more than anything else.

    Vikir stopped reminiscing and looked at Hugo.

    "How many other squires can I take with me?"

    "As you wish."

    Hugo nodded readily.

    Vikir nodded silently.

    In the past, Vikir had also lived within the Academy as a squire, assisting with the admission of new students to the Academy.

    Squires rotate through the academy on a semesterly basis to assist their families'' entrants.

    His duties as an aide consisted of little more than escorting and running errands.

    It was a typical knight''s squire role.

    Vikir had entered the Academy as a squire of the Highbrow, Midbrow, and Lowbrow before his regression.

    It was nice to look over his shoulder and listen to the Academy''s lessons, but other than that, it was all dull and tiring.

    He had to run errands such as washing clothes, preparing materials for performance evaluations, memorizing timetables and meal ns, sometimes escorting, sometimes settling disputes, sometimes being a dueling opponent, and even delivering love letters.

    ''There was a lot of persecution back then.''

    When he returned home, he had seen so many harsh scenes that his face was covered in scars and his legs were limp.

    Is that why? The fine-bred noble sons and daughters of the academy would scowl and show their disdain whenever they saw Vikir, who came to serve as a quarterly squire.

    ''Well, it doesn''t matter. You''re not going to the academy to learn anything anyway.''

    Vikir wanted to join the Academy for two reasons.

    First, to get off Hugo''s radar and build his power.

    Second, to take care of the "ck list" he''dpiled before his regression.

    It urred to him that he might have to wear the Night Hound mask he''d kept sealed away for so long.

    Then. Hugo spoke up.

    "That''s all for now. You may leave now."

    When Hugo had said all he had to say, he called for a celebration.

    But.

    There was one thing left for Vikir to do: make a deal with Hugo.

    Instead of walking away, Vikir raised his head toward Hugo.

    "Father. There is something I would like to ask you."

    "...?"

    It was unusual for Vikir to ask for something first, so Hugo looked interested.

    Then, as if to double-check, Vikir asked Hugo a question.

    "I understand that my disappearance two years ago has greatly benefited the Main House in its diplomacy with the Morg."

    Hugo nodded at Vikir''s straightforward statement.

    Vikir continued.

    "And my father has told me that he is rewarding me for this."

    "That''s right. I said I''d reward you appropriately, but we''re still discussing that."

    Vikir''s aplishment was so great that a modest reward would not clearly recognize it.

    Hugo was considering it, but Bikir spoke up first.

    "I want that reward now."

    "Hmm. Do you want something?"

    It was also unusual for Vikir to want something first.

    Hugo looked at his son''s face in front of him with a gleam in his eye.

    And then. Vikir''s mouth opened.

    "What I want is for you to answer my question, Father, honestly."

    "...?"

    Hugo''s brow furrowed slightly.

    It was a demand that could be offensive to some.

    Hugo opened his mouth.

    "I don''t understand the question."

    "Then I''ll ask it with your permission."

    Vikir looked Hugo in the eye and asked in a much more direct manner than Hugo had.

    "What was your rtionship with thete First Lady, the Marquise de Roxana?"

    Hugo''s entire body went rigid.

    Is this the expression of a dragon that has been stabbed in the back?

    Extreme agitation. Hugo is reacting in a way I''ve never seen before.

    "...What are you trying to do?"

    Hugo''s voice became extremely cold.

    A terrifying chill, a cold aura, radiated from his entire body.

    But Vikir was unfazed.

    He didn''t flinch, despite the fact that all the intimacy and rapport he''d built up to this point was copsing.

    Hugo opened his mouth.

    "Get out."

    "...."

    "Forget about the Academy, it''s a nk te."

    Hugo threw up his hands.

    It had never happened before in his life that he''d let his emotions get the better of him like this.

    But Vikir was still in his face.

    "I understand that your admission to the Academy has been canceled."

    "...."

    "But the trade gains my family made from my disappearance two years ago cannot be canceled."

    That meant he''d better answer quickly.

    Hugo gave Vikir a look of irritation he''d never seen before.

    "What the hell do you want an answer to!"

    "It''s a question."

    Vikir said, still in an even tone.

    "What did you think of the Marquise de Roxana?"

    The Pomeranian''s smiling face floated around in Vikir''s mind.

    What would Hugo''s reaction be if he learned of the existence of a granddaughter he hadn''t even known existed?

    Would he be as displeased as he was now? Most likely, he would.

    ''...because he''s a man without blood or tears.''

    The first wife he met through an arranged marriage, the eldest daughter born with her and kidnapped by the natives, and the granddaughter of mixed native blood.

    Vikir had already run through 365 different scenarios in her head of how Hugo would react to the discovery of the Pomeranian''s existence.

    And in every case, she had made arrangements to benefit herself and the Pomeranians.

    ...?

    Hugo began by saying something that wasn''t in any of Vikir''s 365 ns.

    "She was the only woman I ever loved in my entire life."

 Chapter 117: Falling in Love (2)

    <h4>Chapter 117: Falling in Love (2)</h4>

    Vikir felt goosebumps creep over his entire body.

    Goosebumps rose on his forearms.

    ''...What did I just hear?

    LOVE. LOVE.

    It was a word so unexpected that even a seasoned warrior, a man who had seen it all and had survived the Age of Destruction, would doubt the ears that had protected his life for so long.

    Hugo is thest person in the world you would expect to hear the word love.

    I never thought I''d hear it from his lips.

    Vikir felt his entire strategy crumble in the first chapter.

    And then, as if on cue, Hugo said, with distaste and disgust.

    "Yes. She was the love of my life, and I hate to say it, but we fell in love at first sight."

    Hugo''s answer was almost a monologue. Hearing it, Vikir thought to himself.

    ''I never asked.''

    He doesn''t need to hear the full answer. Vikir is just about to say the next thing.

    "I was a retarded high marquis, and Roxana was amoner with nothing, but the moment we looked into each other''s eyes, we knew that neither our backgrounds nor our origins could separate us."

    Vikir thought for a moment after hearing that.

    ''I didn''t ask.''

    But Hugo kept muttering.

    "Yes, indeed. Certainly, our love was turbulent. From the first moment Iid eyes on her, I felt a passion that shook me to my very soul, but she didn''t. She tried to get away from me because her lowly origins were a nuisance to me, and I followed her, forsaking everything I had. Yes, for her sake, I would have given up everything-not just my body, but my soul."

    "Mmm. Yes. Father. Thank you for your answer. Now, I must ask you to...."

    "But! Our love has been put to the test once more. The Baskervilles set up a chaser."

    "...."

    Vikir wasn''t particrly curious, but he decided to listen anyway.

    Hugo continued to speak through gritted teeth.

    The love affair that ensued between Hugo and Roxana was a rough one.

    A typical romance-fantasy clich��. But the sentiment is timeless.

    Hugo Les Baskervilles is a cold-hearted flower child and a genius at everything.

    And Roxana, a poor, spirited, and cheerful girl.

    Their love defied all odds and eventually found a happy ending.

    Quarreling over minor misunderstandings, crying andughing at the supporting characters who tried to steal their love, and sometimes crying out at the harshness of fate, they finally overcame the opposition of their two parents and brought their love to fruition.

    Vikir nodded thoughtfully.

    "...Was that Penelope?"

    Penelope Baskerville.

    At the mention of the name, Hugo''s pupils fluttered once more.

    His reaction was even more intense than when I mentioned Roxana.

    "What the hell kind of answer do you want to hear!"

    "...."

    Hugo sighed in disbelief as Vikir remainedpletely nonchnt.

    "Oh, yeah. That''s right. My first child, Penelope She was."

    Hugo shuddered for a moment as he said the name, Penelope.

    Vikir stared at him nkly.

    He''d never seen an absolute powerhouse with a foot in the realm of the Supreme so shaken.

    Perhaps not even Butler Barrymore, who had served him his entire life, had ever seen him so shaken.

    Hugo opened his mouth.

    "Roxana was a weak woman. She died of illness not long after giving birth to Penelope, and I raised her alone."

    Penelope was a bright and cheerful child.

    She inherited a strong spirit from Hugo and a kind heart from Roxana, and she grew to be the favorite of all the Baskervilles.

    And then one day. "The ident" happened.

    Out for a walk, Penelope was captured by the Rococo tribe, who were out hunting humans.

    No one knows how the invaders learned of Penelope''s route.

    Known as a cannibalistic tribe, the Rococo kidnapped Penelope and disappeared into the depths of the ck Mountain with their enemies from that day forward.

    And from that day forward, Hugo went mad.

    The swordmaster with the heart of a furnace and the blood of iron abandoned all his assets and power in the ecliptic and moved his entire family to the margins.

    His reasoning was to expand the empire''s territory by exterminating the demons and barbarians of the depth.

    Hugo then abandoned all of his wealth and threw himself into his work like a madman.

    His cold-blooded grasp of the weapon has left countless enemy generals lying on the ground.

    But he could only do so much alone.

    In his quest to y everyst one of the barbarians on the continent, Hugo multiplied his wives through a series of arranged marriages and produced children who shared his martial prowess.

    The emperor gave the marquis, who had withdrawn from the center of power and asked to be sent to the remote regions, every support.

    There were no restrictions on the number of soldiers and no surveince.

    Taxes were waived, and countless grants were handed out in various guises.

    Hugo threw everything he had at the task and continued to rebuild the empire.

    For decades.

    A great family on the margins, yet untouchable by anyone in the Imperial ecliptic.

    Baskerville, House of Ironblood, was born.

    Vikir nodded at the words.

    ''...I see. Somehow, even when I joined hands with that hated Morg, I knew something was wrong.''

    Vikir remembered what Butler Barrymore had hinted at at the time.

    Hugo had agreed to join the Morg at Red Salt Castle because he had heard that a girl of Morg descent had been taken by the Rococo tribe.

    Did he recognize his first daughter, Penelope?

    Vikir remembered that Camus had cried when he heard that his flesh-and-blood sister had been taken and eaten by the cannibalistic Rococo tribe.

    Butler Barrymore reflected on the incident.

    ''It was after that incident that my Lord became the cold person he is today. If only his eldest daughter Penelope had been alive, he would not have been so....''

    From Vikir''s perspective, there''s no way to know what Hugo was like before. It was before he was born.

    However, Vikir was familiar with Hugo''s personality from his two lives.

    An iron-blooded warrior without blood or tears. A cold-blooded man who cared only for the glory of the empire and the revival of his family.

    But to see him in front of me now, tormented by the story of an old love, was an overwhelming sense of strangeness.

    "...Yes. I did."

    Hugo''s voice was shaking as he spoke. His eyes are red and moist at the corners.

    Vikir was so surprised by his appearance that he almost had hups.

    But don''t let the look fool you.

    His opponent is a heartless man who, in the aftermath of the loss of his first daughter, has sent each of his sons into battle with the barbarians.

    He would even go on a rampage if he knew his granddaughter had barbarian blood in her veins.

    Vikir awakened Beelzebub the Magic Sword, ready to draw his de if necessary.

    He spoke in a voice of extreme caution.

    "First, thank you for answering."

    "...."

    Hugo dried the moisture from his eyes in an instant and raised his bloodshot eyes to re at Vikir.

    "Why did you ask me this, if not to satisfy your insatiable curiosity...."

    But Vikir held up a palm, cutting Hugo off.

    He asked his question.

    "What would you do if you had the blood of your first wife''s daughter, Penelope Baskerville?"

    "...what?"

    Hugo''s brow furrowed at Vikir''s words.

    He looked like he''d heard every stupid thing in the world.

    But Vikir had never said a single thing that wasn''t true.

    Just as Hugo was slowly realizing that fact.

    ...Thud!

    Vikir stretched out his left hand and mmed an object from his pocket onto Hugo''s desk.

    Hugo''s eyes widen at the sight of it.

    "...This, this!"

    It''s a pendant, an artifact salvaged from a Rococo vige that was nearly wiped out by the Red Death.

    Inside are portraits of the past of Hugo and Roxana as young men, and Penelope as a child.

    "My, I made it! The pendant I gave to Roxana, the one I made in my workshop, and the one I gave to her, and the one I wore around Penelope''s neck at the end, for sure...!"

    Hugo pointed to the pendant on the table with a hand that trembled so much that it almost seemed to shake.

    A moment.

    A ding!

    Hugo''s hand shook so violently that he dropped the pendant on the table.

    As Vikir snatched it up, Hugo screamed like he was having a seizure.

    "Do it, give it back, give it back to me!"

    "Calm down. Father."

    Hugo iled in the air, disoriented.

    Vikir obediently handed the pendant back to Hugo, who seemed to be half out of his mind.

    "...."

    The faded portrait inside the pendant handprints where the lid''s hard metal te had been worn away.

    Penelope, their lost first child.

    Where is she? Is she alive? If she is dead, where are her remains? What were her circumstances and thoughts before she died? How lonely, confused, and scared must she have been? Did he resent his father for noting to his rescue? Did he despair, thinking that his father had forgotten him?

    Hugo was always scared.

    He wondered if she would me herself to the end if she would me her father, who had never said a kind word, who had always been so strict, who had nevere to visit or heard from her.

    More and more, Hugo flogged himself. He hadn''t given any of his children any love. He didn''t care if they didn''t feel the same way about him. It was easier that way.

    When he thought of Penelope, he couldn''t imagine her suffering somewhere.

    And when he looked at his sons, who had the same faces and personalities as he did, he could only feel a terrible feeling of self-hatred.

    ... but.

    Looking at the pendant, which had been so stroked that the lid had worn off, Hugo felt as if an ice cap had melted in his heart.

    Thinking of his daughter clutching this pendant until herst breath, Hugo couldn''t help but shake his head.

    A single, thick tear finally hit the cold stone floor.

    And then.

    There was one word from Vikir that brought Hugo''s eyes back to life.

    "There is a daughter of my sister, Penelope."

    "?"

    Was it Vikir''s voice, so dry and emotionless?

    "??"

    Hugo''s face was nk, as if he hadn''t understood what Vikir had said.

    "????"

    So, as if on cue, Vikir spoke to Hugo again.

    "I''m saying that you have a granddaughter."

    And then.

    "!"

    Hugo''s eyes widened until they couldn''t get any bigger.

 Chapter 118: Falling in Love (3)

    <h4>Chapter 118: Falling in Love (3)</h4>

    A man''s tears.

    It''s a rare thing to see. The older you get, the more so.

    Men are socially conditioned not to shed tears.

    It''s a rare thing to see in a normal family home, but not in Baskerville, where the iron-blooded sword is a thing of the past.

    Iron blood boiling in the heart of a furnace. A Swordmaster without human emotion.

    Hugo Les Baskerville, the iron-blooded swordsman of Baskerville.

    Tears are not the word to describe him.

    A needle in his eye would make him bleed, but not tears.

    So Vikir was surprised this morning when he saw Hugo crying.

    ...So surprised, indeed.

    In an age of destruction, through a devastating decade of war, he could think of few times when he had been so surprised.

    And so Vikir thought.

    ''There will be no more surprises.''

    I''ve seen Hugo cry, what more surprises can there be?

    Vikir thought.

    ...But.

    Vikir had to be surprised once more, even more so than when Hugo cried earlier.

    "s, peek-a-boo!"

    In front of him now was a Pomeranian sitting awkwardly.

    And the Pomerian is sitting on someone''sp, and the one who is trying to make the Pomeriananugh with this stupid joke... ... as soon as... ... .

    ''I hate to admit it, but that''s Hugo Les Baskerville.''

    Vikir put a hand to his forehead.

    ''It is indeed Hugo the Ironde, Lord of Baskerville, who now has Pomeranian in hisp and is making a ridiculous face with his hands, tongue, and eyes.''

    Character Breakdown. It''s as if all themon sense Vikir has ever possessed hase crashing down.

    He''s shocked, and so is everyone else in Baskerville when they hear the conversation between Hugo and Pomeranian.

    "???"

    "????"

    Just as Butler Barrymore and Osiris Baskerville, now standing beside Vikir, are open-mouthed.

    Vikir even thought to himself.

    ''Has he been brainwashed by demons?''

    But no matter, Hugo is still his usual self.

    "Uh heh heh, do you find this grandfather''s mustache strange? Is it fun to pull? Now, there is this one too."

    "Moustache... dirty...."

    "Hmm? Heh heh heh �C dirty! This old man always shampoos and rinses his mustache. Today, I did a special essence because you wereing."

    "installment... mustache... pick it off...."

    "Hmmm? The installment? Ohhh! Yes, yes, yes, it''s Grandpa! Do you want to call me that again? Hehe, I''m your grandfather."

    It was a roundabout way of saying it. Hugo''s reaction was not at all what Vikir had expected.

    "Where did thise from?

    Vikir recalled a moment in time.

    Hugo looked at the Pomeranian with that same trembling look in his eyes.

    ''This, this, this child, is this really Penelope''s child?''

    ''It is. The dark hair and red eyes are characteristic of Baskerville; and, judging by the portrait, she bears a striking resemnce to Roxana the First Lady, and also to Penelope''s sister....''

    ''Not so much as a resemnce, I, I thought Penelope was alive and well, no way!''

    Pomeranian''s whole body proved that she was Penelope''s child.

    The tiny mole on the nape of his neck and the blue stain on his calf were physical features that Hugo also had.

    What''s more, the Pomeranian was found among the Rococo tribe that had taken Penelope, and he even had a pendant that Hugo had made himself.

    She also remembered her mother, Penelope, quite clearly.

    "Mommy... was always happy...ughed well...."

    Hugoughed and cried at the same time.

    From what he heard, Penelope must have had a wonderful life.

    "Yes, Mama... is always behind on her installments... and she''s sick of seeing them, but she''s tried to go back so many times, she can''t... Madame Depht... won''t let us enter her territory."

    Hugo scratched his head.

    The Pomeranian spoke well for a five-year-old, but he still didn''t fully understand.

    That''s when Vikir, who had spent two years in the depht, helped trante.

    "Sister Penelope says she''s always missed you, and that she''s tried to return to the n several times, but has been unsessful because a powerful demon''s territory blocks the center of her path."

    "What! Are you saying that it was a demon that separated me from my daughter?"

    "Yes, it was a dangerous creature called the Depht Nightmare, and now I have killed it."

    Hugo admired Vikir''s words.

    "Well done. You have avenged me where I could not. Well done, well done."

    You get what you deserve. Hugo hadn''t lost his Baskerville colors.

    Finally, Hugo turned his head toward Vikir.

    His eyes were red with moisture.

    "I''m d to hear of my daughter''sst days, and that they were happy in their own way. I don''t know if I''ll ever have a better day in the rest of my life, especially now that I have the granddaughter she left behind."

    Praise. This expression of extreme joy from Hugo''s mouth stunned both Barrymore and Osiris.

    Even Osiris, who, like Hugo, rarely shows emotion, was stunned to see his mouth open and his eyes wide.

    Then. Hugo strode over, cradling the Pomeranian in his arms, and stood in front of Vikir.

    Vikir instinctively cowered, ready to fight back.

    But contrary to Vikir''s instincts, Hugo stopped in his tracks.

    And then.

    "Thank you, son."

    Hugo bowed his head to Vikir. His back bent ny degrees.

    Barrymore and Osiris'' mouths dropped open again at the unprecedented sight.

    After a few moments of silence, Osiris stammered.

    "It''s a short life, but... ... Of all the moments of my life, today will be the most amazing."

    "I have lived quite a long time, but... I think so too, Lord."

    Barrymore replied, barely able to move his mouth.

    Then, Osiris''s gaze fell upon Hugo.

    Parents are mirrors of their children, and children are mirrors of their parents.

    Up until this point, Osiris had always tried to mirror Hugo''s stoic and cold demeanor.

    He''d killed his emotions and suppressed his ego as much as possible.

    From the smallest desire to eat something tasty to painstakingly turning away from the woman he was attracted to, it was a quest that bordered on self-abuse.

    But. Today, Osiris''s feelings about Hugo have changed slightly.

    "I wonder if my father was like that."

    That means he has a side like that too.

    And Osiris had learned a lesson today.

    He didn''t have to suppress the clumsy warmth within him so much.

    ''Can''t I be a little bit of what I want to be?''

    You don''t have to try to be perfect.

    The humanity thates from a little w, a little imperfection, is enough to make even my cold father smile.

    "...."

    Osiris mirrored his father''s face as he smiled broadly at the Pomeranian.

    Barrymore, who was standing next to him, was stunned to see Osiris'' face.

    ''My God, he''s smiling! He''s smiling!''

    Even Barrymore, the butler, had never seen Osirisugh so easily in his life.

    Naturally, the butler''s face lights up when he sees his master and little masterughing.

    There was a breeze in Baskerville that hadn''t been felt in a long time.

    ... Just then.

    A voice wiped the smiles from Hugo''s, Osiris'', and Barrymore''s faces.

    "I have a word with you, Father."

    It was Vikir.

    Vikir. Suddenly, the atmosphere cleared.

    As Vikir opened his mouth, both Hugo and Osiris turned to look at him with serious expressions.

    The one who had brought them this great happiness.

    Their gazes toward the belly of the family were grave, but they were also filled with undeniable favor and gratitude.

    Hugo quickly understood Vikir''s purpose.

    "Oh, yes. The reward."

    The reward should be clear. That was Hugo''s theory.

    You''ve found Penelope, you''ve avenged her by killing a demonic creature, and you''ve rescued a granddaughter you didn''t even know existed.

    These deeds are unspeakable.

    Hugo nodded, ready to listen to anything Vikir had to say.

    Beside him, Osiris did the same.

    "Tell me what you want, son."

    "Anything I can do to help, brother."

    Vikir nodded.

    Now that things had gone so well, it was time to set his sights on the end goal.

    Before heading to the Academy, there was something he needed to take care of within the family.

    It is revenge for the miserable end before the return. And it was the first step to prevent the age of destruction that was about to unfold.

    "There''s a demon I''d like to hunt."

    "...?"

    "A very dangerous one."

    "...!"

    Hugo and Osiris'' faces hardened as they heard Vikir''s words.

    They were the iron-blooded swords of Baskerville, the Master and Young Master, the swords of the Empire, fighting demons.

    Hugo asked.

    "What kind of demons?"

    "If you''re asking what kind of demons, I don''t know exactly. But...."

    "Just?"

    Osiris asked, this time.

    Vikir answered tersely.

    "I only know the location of where they are hiding."

    At that, Hugo and Osiris nodded in unison.

    "Yes. And what is that location?"

    Vikir answered as if he had been waiting.

    "Inside the family estate."

    "...!"

    The two men''s eyes widened.

    At this point, Vikir told them what he really wanted.

    "Half a day. I want to borrow the Seven Knights of Baskerville for half a day."

    Half the power of the Baskervilles.

    A single weak nation could be wiped off the map in a day.

 Chapter 119: The Hunt for the Second Son (1)

    <h4>Chapter 119: The Hunt for the Second Son (1)</h4>

    In a darkened cave.

    A man sits alone in a training hall on the outskirts of the Baskerville estate.

    Set les Baskervilles. Hugo''s second son.

    He is reading a letter delivered by a three-eyed raven.

    "...hmm. So, Vikir, he left for the Academy, huh?"

    Set closed the letter.

    Tsutsutsutsutsuts...

    Then the parchment on which the words were written burned away.

    The mes were ck and vivid.

    Set opened his closed eyes.

    For a moment, each eyeball seemed to turn in a different direction, and then only a stark ckness filled her orbit.

    "but. I''d rather not have it. There was a lot of room to get in the way when the family was swallowed up."

    Set smirked and leaned his head against the wall.

    As he did, a dark, giant shadow fell across the rock face.

    "It was bad enough having to deal with Hugo, Osiris, and the Seventh Count, but now you''ve got that little bastard. I should have killed him in the depth. s, I should have done it when I let the viper loose in the cradle in the first ce, because of that stupid mother and nanny bitch."

    Set mulled this over, and then, in a fit of nervousness, reached out to the side.

    There was a frightened-looking child.

    "Huh, Patroness, where am I?"

    "Umm. Don''t worry. This is the house you''re going to live in."

    "Eh? Ha, but the nursery director said I would be adopted by a good home... but this is a scary cave!"

    The cave was dark as far as the eye could see, and filled with a foul stench that made it hard to stand for more than a moment.

    Set tugged on the child''s arm and chuckled.

    "A cave? s, you mean here. There must be some misunderstanding, but of course this is not your home."

    At Set''s words, the child''s expression rxed, if only briefly.

    But.

    "This is where you will go."

    At the same time, Set''s mouth dropped open as he looked into the child''s face.

    A row of razor-sharp teeth sprouted from its gaping mouth.

    A singlerge eyeball in its hood shed across the child''s face with a horrifying crackle.

    Before the child had time to scream, Set swallowed its head in one gulp.

    ...Woodchuck! Woodchuck!

    The child''s shadow twists miserably against the cave''s rocky walls.

    The blood sttered on the walls quickly lost its color, and thest warm breath sank into the depths of the abyss.

    Set wiped his mouth a few times before stripping the bones off and tossing them to the floor.

    "Human fluids are the most delicious, I can''t get enough of them. Maybe we should start a collective and breed them."

    Set looked at the bones on the floor and smirked.

    In the darkness, a mountain of bones had already piled up on the pitch-ck floor, emitting a foul stench.

    The smell of decaying flesh, Set wrinkled his nose and made a happy face.

    "Mmm. The scent of home. Home sweet home."

    Set flopped down on a pile of bones.

    Just then.

    A three-eyed raven opened its mouth.

    [Hey, Ten, how''s things going?]

    "Ugh, what a surprise."

    Set spat out the bones he had been gurgling in anger.

    The raven shines its three eyeballs and says.

    [We must open the ''gate'' to open a new era. The dawn of a new era is just around the corner. You haven''t forgotten, have you?]

    "I see. Keep an eye on the others, I''m not the only one, what are you doing?"

    [I can''t be bothered with you for the time being, I have one more human to pay attention to].

    "Another human to pay attention to, Eight, yourself?"

    [More like you].

    Set frowned at the raven''s words.

    "By human I''m paying attention to, do you mean Vikir? It''s in Morg where the Eight are infiltrating. ...If so?

    When asked who the newest up-anders in Morg were, Set quickly found the answer.

    "You mean the newest member of the Dark Faction? What''s his name, Camus? Why?"

    [....]

    The crow didn''t answer. Instead, he gave Set a pincushion.

    [I won''t answer unnecessary questions. Also, have you guys been eating too many human fluidstely? There have been too many kidnappings and missing infants around town. The dogs of Baskerville have good noses, so be careful not to give them away].

    "Don''t worry, I''m doing a good job of staying undetected. I''ve never been disturbed."

    [I''m a little concerned about all the bones in the cave. What if someone breaks in?]

    "Don''t worry. The cave is wired so that only demons and human fluids under the age of eight can enter. No one will find it."

    The raven nodded, finally relieved. And he ended the conversation at will.

    [For the destruction of humans. For the Ten Commandments.]

    With that, the magic emanating from the raven''s eyeballs faded. The raven fell to the ground and died.

    "Still talking out of your ass, you asshole."

    Set crushed the crow''s corpse with his foot as if it was a nuisance.

    "Damn it. I''m still a long way from building up enough magicpower to open the gate. I wonder how much human blood I''ll have to suck before I can. At this rate, I''ll be waiting at least another decade."

    Set grumbled, shing his demonic re.

    His cunning brain calcted the amount of mana needed for the n and the time it would take to gather it.

    Twelve and a half years, to be exact.

    That''s at least as long as he needs to hide in the human realm.

    Only then could he create a giant gate between the demonic and human realms, setting the stage for the Great War.

    "We must open the Age of Destruction as soon as possible. ... s, it''s a thrill to think about."

    Set squeals with delight at the thought of the inferno and the devastation of the human world toe.

    The thrill seemed tost for quite some time.

    "Open what?"

    ...if it weren''t for the unwee intruder who suddenly burst into the cave.

    In an instant, Set jumped to his feet.

    "!"

    He didn''t even feel the intruder.

    No flow of mana, no concentration of magic, not even a sound.

    Set was horrified to see the face of the man who had entered the cave.

    Vikir. Vikir Van Baskerville. It was his brother, the one Set had been watching so closely.

    "Uh, what happened to you? Weren''t you going to the Academy?"

    "I''m going, but not before I see your face."

    Vikir replied in a nonchnt tone and stood in front of Set.

    Set squinted and stared at the man before him.

    He could smell the extremely faint but unmistakable scent of magic on Vikir, especially around the wrist of his right hand.

    "So you were able to break through the crystal?"

    Set stretched out his mind to see the crystals.

    There were marks on the grid where a drumstick had been torn with something like an awl.

    There was a distinct crack, small enough for only a Vikir to fit through.

    Meanwhile, Vikir looked into Set''s eyes.

    The irises were eyeless, filled with ckness, and the demon''s signature magic radiated from their sockets.

    "You don''t even bother to hide your identity anymore."

    "Not since you''ve discovered the scene."

    Set shrugged at Vikir''s question.

    Then, seeing the remains of the children on the ground, Vikir swallowed hard.

    In a previous life, he had been framed and executed for this horrific crime. It was a futile end, even after the Age of Destruction had ended.

    And now, the man who had framed him wasughing in his face.

    Because of him, Vikir had been deceived countless times, hade close to death many times, and had actually died.

    Pomeranian also lost his family and had a difficult childhood.

    Hugo and Baskerville''s misfortunes were also caused by this creature.

    Set Les Baskervilles. No, something under his skin.

    Vikir gave a short warning to the enemy in front of him.

    "Don''tugh."

    But Set let out an even louder mockery.

    "Pufu-fufufuhehehe... ... little brother I don''t know how you came to know about this ce, but I can''t believe that you have the confidence of an intermediate graduator. You are too arrogant."

    Set snatched his mberg from his waistband.

    Suddenly, the aura of an advanced Graduator began to envelope the sword.

    With a dark smile, Set swung the sword at Vikir.

    At that moment.

    ...Puff!

    A short blood-curdling sound resounded.

    Set could only stare in horror as he realized what had just happened.

    Then.

    Thud!

    There was the sound of something falling to the ground.

    It was the left arm that wasn''t holding the sword.

    Blood was gushing out of the neatly cut off left arm.

    "...?"

    Set looked up, dazed, and saw Vikir''s swording at him.

    The magic sword Beelzebub. And the seven teeth it depicts.

    The Seven Deadly Sins of Baskerville.

    But it was something else that stunned the set before them.

    An aura as sticky as nectar and as red as blood.

    A step up from a Graduator to peer into the realm of a Master.

    The aura of a peak Graduator was exploding!

    "Don''tugh."

    That was thest thing Vikir said before he tore the skin from both sides of Set''s mouth.

 Chapter 120: The Hunt for the Second Son (2)

    <h4>Chapter 120: The Hunt for the Second Son (2)</h4>

    ".... Uh, how?"

    Set looked up, his eyes wide.

    Vikir van Baskerville. Hugo''s illegitimate son.

    He must be some lowly bastard from an insignificant birth.

    Just another hound to be used and discarded.

    However, it was also true that he was born in the fastest time ever to pass through the Cradle of the Sword and was favored by the River Styx, and from an early age, he hunted high-ranking demonic creatures such as trolls and Cerberus.

    Two venomous snakes were ced in the cradle to remove him early on, but they failed.

    Not long ago, he miraculously returned from the battlefield after being thought to be dead, revealing a stunning achievement of Intermediate Graduator.

    At only seventeen years old, he had achieved the rank of Intermediate Graduator, a feat no one else in Ironblooded Baskerville had ever aplished.

    Even the first son Osiris, rumored to be a genius, was over thirty years old when he reached Intermediate Graduator.

    So even as Vikir demonstrated his power in the Banquet Hall, Set clicked his tongue.

    ''Tsk, tsk, he shouldn''t reveal all his secrets like that.''

    Power should be shown in moderation and hidden in moderation.

    That way, you can make the most of your future with less pressure from those around you.

    Wearing your power on your sleeve was the behavior of children who wanted the praise of adults.

    In that sense, Vikir was still a child who didn''t need to be watched.

    At least, that''s what Set thought.

    ... But.

    In-person, Vikir''s true character was far more formidable. Almost unbelievable to the naked eye.

    Who would have thought that at the age of only a few years, he would have achieved a level of mastery that would allow him to cross into the realm of the supreme.

    "''Advanced Graduator ... No, Supreme?''

    Set''s mouth was half open at the sheer unreality of the sight.

    Honestly, if it weren''t for his enemies, he might have thought it was a sight to behold.

    Meanwhile, against Set''s dazed expression, Vikir unleashed all of his hiddenbat power, without restraint.

    "You don''t have eyes to see anyway, so it doesn''t matter."

    " ...I don''t have eyes to see, little brother, because you do."

    "It''s an eye that will soon be gone."

    Vikir''s next move wiped the smile off Set''s face.

    Kwaki-gigi-gigi-gig-.

    Baskerville''s seventh form. A small but sharp sh of the seventh tooth, the one that only Patriarch can master.

    Whenbined with the aura of a top-notch Graduator, its killing power is enough to frighten even the highest-ranking demons.

    "You''re insane, how could you use a seventh tooth that only a patriarch can master!"

    Set eximed in astonishment, but he couldn''t afford to be surprised.

    Vikir hadn''t bothered to tell him that he knew how to deploy the eighth, ninth, and even the tenth.

    He just kept silently swinging his sword until he mastered the seventh and broke through the wall beyond.

    Bang! Bang! Kagagak!

    The surrounding stctites and stgmites bend like reed stems.

    Set is backed into a corner with no time to catch his breath.

    ''He''s an experienced bastard. Even the worn and tattered old knights of Baskerville aren''t like this....''

    It was as if he was facing a mountain, a feeling simr to when he had faced one of the Seven Counts in the past.

    Set gritted his teeth and swung his mberg.

    A Baskerville carnivore. Six teeth blocked seven teeth.

    But.

    The teeth that drew from the tip of Vikir''s de were shaped differently than Set''s.

    "Stabbing fangs or not, what is this?"

    By the time the question was asked, it was toote.

    ...Puff-puff-puff-puck!

    Set''s body explodes in all directions.

    It''s an ambush bite, one that exists solely to inflict pain on its opponent.

    It sliced through the flesh and stabbed deep into its very core, unleashing seven deadly and irresistible stabs all over Set''s body.

    "Aaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

    Set stumbled back, dragging his tattered body.

    He could barely keep his bnce after his left arm had been severed.

    And Vikir, like a seasoned veteran, took advantage of his enemy''s hesitation.

    ...Thud!

    One step back, two steps forward.

    Boom!

    One swing, two swings, and a sh.

    Pooh-pooh-pooh-pooh!

    Baskerville''s hound, Death''s Tooth, ferociously bites Set''s entire body.

    It would be more appropriate to say that it stabbed rather than shed.

    "Eueueueug!?"

    Set was unable to resist, seeing his flesh fall off as he was turned into pieces of meat.

    He couldn''t think clearly.

    Looking at this relentless sword attack, it was clear that it was not a skill that had been killed once or twice.

    ''Nonsense! It''s only a human, and seventeen at that! How many have you killed before?

    Set barely managed to swing his sword back.

    But.

    ...Hook!

    Vikir, the Hound of Death, closed the distance.

    Suddenly, the scent of Vikir assaulted Set''s sense of smell.

    It''s a smell that no amount of washing can erase, a smell that sticks to the soul, not the body.

    It is the smell of a demon, or more specifically, the smell of a demon as it bleeds and groans in pain!

    A ray of light shimmered in Seth''s ck eyes. It was a light of terror.

    ''...Ah, demon hunter!??''

    Yes. In front of him. The young adult body of this young.

    Unbelievably, his soul exuded the scent of a butcher who had killed countless of his kind.

    Do dogs recognize their masters and wag their tails?

    Set felt his entire body stiffen.

    How many demons had he killed so far?

    With each burst of Vikir''s momentum, Set''s eyes shed before him a terrifyingndscape, with mountains of demon corpses and rivers of blood flowing through it.

    "No, nonsense, nonsense! How could such a young guy go through such an out-of-human demon scene!"

    Set opened his mouth, but it was only to increase the volume of space for Vikir''s attack.

    Thwack!

    Vikir''s sh flew in.

    It sliced through Set''s gums, knocking out several of his teeth and slicing through his tongue and uv.

    Sapuk.

    It sliced into Set''s left cheek, retrieved the protruding sword tip neatly, and flicked it once.

    "...."

    Vikir started to ask something but stopped.

    I already know his n, and his purpose.

    It was something he could guess, given his knowledge before and after the regression.

    ''He''s a higher being from the Demon Realm. He probably wants to destroy the human world.''

    Before the regression, ten demon kings opened a gate to the depths of the Demon Realm and caused an era of destruction.

    They were called the "Ten Corpses," referring not only to the ten demons, but also to the ten corpses that were taken over by them.

    Some of them were known, some were not, and in the case of the Set Baskerville before us, they were not known.

    ''...for even I did not know his identity until the day of my execution.''

    Even the heroes who closed the gates and ended the Age of Destruction were never able to find the Ten Commandments and condemn them once and for all.

    But.

    This time is different.

    The Age of Destruction has not yet begun.

    The gates to the depths of the Demon Realm have yet to be opened, and the Ten Commandments that would open them have yet to appear.

    And Vikir had already found one of them.

    "You die here."

    Vikir dered.

    If you can kill him here, the future will change.

    Killing one of the Ten Commandments would not prevent the Age of Destruction from urring at all, but it would slow it down immensely.

    This would give Vikir much more time to n.

    Time to solidify his n and prepare for every variable.

    ''I will never lose a single game''

    With all errors and variables blocked and sealed off in advance, Vikir swung his sword with all the power he had before his regression.

    His swordsmanship was even more noble than before his regression, his aura even more powerful, and the de of his magic sword, Beelzebub, zed with sun-like red light.

    And naturally, Set who was only an Intermediate Graduator, with the power of an advanced one, was unable to parry Vikir''s sword.

    "Gaaaah!"

    Set screamed through his tattered body.

    Even if he was weak, that was only by Baskerville''s standards. As Hugo''s second-born son, his talents shouldn''t be inferior.

    The problem was, he had his mother''s weak bones and pelt, and couldn''t contain the powerful qualities he inherited from Hugo.

    So no matter how hard he tried, he could only be a Graduator Advanced, and that was his limit.

    This was a terrible humiliation for a genius outside the standard, someone who had achieved great things, even if it was by blood.

    Still, it was nothing new for Set.

    Because before Vikir, it was Osiris.

    "Mmph... mmph!"

    ckened blood dripped from Set''s eyes, nose, and mouth.

    A terrible sense of inferiority washed over him.

    Seeing this, Vikir hesitated.

    ''Was Set''s soul still there?''

    Obviously, Set''s body had been taken by the demons after he was hanged.

    But it seemed clear that somewhere in the depths of his soul, Set''s memories and personality remained.

    ''But that was that, and this is this.''

    Even if he paused for a moment, it was a matter of the mind, and the hands and knife were still relentlessly shing at Set.

    Puck! Puck! Puck! Puck!

    Seven teeth flew out, slicing through Set''s entire body.

    Eventually.

    "How dare you, you dirty Baskerville, you filthy hound!"

    Finally, Set, or rather, the thing that had been wearing Set''s skin, showed its true colors.

    Tsutsutsutsutsutsutsuts...

    Formless magic erupted from the holes in Set''s body.

    It soon wriggled like the mud on a doll and began to take shape into a single, massive form.

    And Vikir realized the nature of the demon that had consumed Set''s body and soul.

    <Andromalius the Tenth>.

    Danger Rating : S+.

    Size: ?

    Found in: In the depths of the Gate of Destruction, ''The Serpent''s Womb''

    -Nicknamed ''Tenth Corpse''.

    One of the ten catastrophes that lead to humanity''s natural enemy, iprehensible, and unkible.

    "They shall swarm like flies."

    �C ��The Ten Commandments�� 10: Top-

    The final boss, " Ten Corpses (ʮ��ʬ)". One of the ten top corpses.

    One of the ten keys that unlocked the Age of Destruction.

 Chapter 121: The Hunt for the Second Son (3)

    <h4>Chapter 121: The Hunt for the Second Son (3)</h4>

    <''Tenth Corpse'' Andromalius>

    Danger Rating : S

    Size : ?

    Found in: In the depths of the Gate of Destruction, ''The Serpent''s Womb''

    -Nicknamed ''Tenth Corpse''.

    One of the Ten Cmities, natural enemies of mankind, inscrutable and unkible.

    "They shall swarm like flies."

    �C The Ten Commandments 10: Top �C

    ''The top ten corpses''.

    Refers to the ten Demon Kings who opened the gates to the Demon Realm and ushered in the Age of Destruction, or the ten corpses that became their bodies.

    Before his regression, Vikir had a vague idea of their existence, but he hadn''t realized they were actually Set.

    ''It''s a good thing we met rtively soon.''

    Vikir thought as he stepped back.

    More innocent children would have been sacrificed if he had been allowed to live longer in the Baskervilles.

    Someone else would have been falsely used, too.

    Like himself before the regression.

    Vikir calmed his mind and eyed the enemy before him.

    Sure enough, Andromalius, the Tenth Corpse, rose like a mist behind Set''s body, and then began to take shape.

    Red eyes, ck flesh, horns curved like a ram''s.

    From his severed left arm sprouted a long, massive snake, writhing and slithering.

    The powerful demon that had taken over Set''s body growled into his mouth.

    [I never thought I''d show my true form to a human].

    "You should have hidden better."

    Andromalius''s expression went nk for a moment as he heard Vikir''s short rebuke.

    Why is it that the humans in front of him are never surprised to see him for who he is?

    Of course, Vikir had no intention of answering Andromalius'' question.

    He simplypares his pre-regression knowledge with the information from his current life to make the best possible n.

    ''... I wondered where the culprits who would bring about the Age of Destruction in theing decades were hiding.''

    I never thought it would be this close.

    Vikir cut off any and all feelings he had for Set.

    He was no longer the kindly half-brother he remembered.

    Not even a monster, not even a fiend, but a demon, a true blooded evil.

    A demon of the highest order, a demon whose family name is somehow tied to the Abyssal Lineage.

    "Even so. There''s no business in swords."

    Vikir was unfazed.

    He drew out as long as he could, and the tip of his Beelzebub was imbued with an aura of power.

    Pooh-pooh-pooh-pooh!

    In the short time it took for Andromalius to descend and reshape Set''s body, Vikirid down over thirty stabs.

    A trajectory so clear in its intent, aimed at killing, not dueling or contesting.

    The malice disyed by Beelzebub the Magic Sword was unmistakable, following an extremely efficient route, selecting only Andromalius'' vital organs to stab.

    [Ugh! Why, why is it painful, why does the pain of a mere body reach to the soul!]

    Andromalius then turned his attention to the awl-like sword that Vikir was wielding.

    Sensing the magic emanating from Beelzebub, Andromalius cries out in horror.

    [What, no! Beelzebub, the Sword of Gluttony? The remains of the ancient Demonic Constetion, Lord of the Flies!]

    Long ago, when Andromalius was not yet born.

    A relic of one of the seven great and long-dead kings who once ruled the demon world.

    Only then did Andromalius understand the source of Vikir''s confidence.

    A normal sword can harm the body of the corpse possessed by Andromalius, but it cannot damage the spiritual body behind it.

    Unless it was an aura sword, which was a concentration of pure mana.

    However, it''s a different story with demonic or holy swords.

    They are the only non-standard objects that can physically interfere with a spiritual body.

    And a magic sword or holy sword with an aura?

    It bes a powerful weapon that even a Demon of the highest order cannot ignore.

    Moreover, Vikir is a seasoned warrior who has umted karma from killing countless demons in his past lives.

    Andromalius, who hasn''t yet gained his full strength, is confused as to where this monster came from.

    "Die."

    Vikir wanted to end the battle as quickly as possible while Andromalius was still in the dark.

    Before Andromalius had taken his body, Set had been an intermediate Graduator, and now that Andromalius was inplete control of Set''s body, he could easily be a Sword Master or higher.

    But Vikir was confident, too.

    His body was strengthened by the River Styx, his battle experience gained over two lifetimes, and the power of Baskerville family swordsmanship and the magic sword Beelzebub.

    Even a Swordmaster could be killed by surprise or assassination.

    Vikir sank his teeth into Andromalius'' flesh with conviction.

    However.

    [...Yes, that was a bit of a surprise, I''ll admit, but that''s it].

    Andromalius is essentially an endgame boss, an Archdemon so terrifying that he plotted the destruction of the human world with only ten others.

    Andromalius, who had somewhat adapted to Vikir''s onught since breaking through the barrier, immediately took action.

    Shiriririk!

    The snake that had reced Andromalius'' left arm swooped down, open-mouthed.

    Vikir swung the hilt of his Blood Wind to strike the snake down, but the snake''s teeth left a long trail of blood on his forearm.

    Then a dark smile appeared on Andromalius'' possessed Set''s face.

    [That''s it, you''re done].

    With that, Andromalius stretched out his right hand.

    Vikir''s forearm turned white for a moment, and then blood began to gush from the wound.

    ...gurgle! ...gurgle! ...gurgle! ...gurgle! ...gurgle!

    Andromalius drained the blood from Vikir''s body and absorbed it into his own.

    Waaaah!

    Vikir suddenly heard the unpleasant pping of wings.

    Flies.

    The ugly insect, plump and fat, was sucking blood from Vikir''s wound.

    "...is a bloodsucker."

    Vikir crushed the fly, killing it, and quickly pressed his arm against the wound to stop it from bleeding, but it was no use.

    Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

    Flies were everywhere.

    The flies that had been frantically licking the children''s bones now clung to Vikir.

    ...buzz! ...buzz! ...buzz! ...buzz! ...buzz! ...buzz!

    Andromalius sucked the blood from Vikir''s body, no matter how far away they were.

    The streams of blood gushing out of Vikir''s body were being coiled like snakes by the flies and being absorbed by Andromalius'' right hand.

    [Hmph- my strength is returning].

    Set''s tattered body began to recover.

    Infinite bloodsucking using a swarm of flies.

    This power that Andromalius possessed was semi-immortal.

    As long as there are wounded and exhausted things around him, his life force is limitless.

    The art of digging into the wounds of others and draining the life force from them ismon among demons.

    And one of the best at it is this Andromalius right in front of you.

    ''Set, too, has long since be his sacrifice.''

    The need to be epted by his father, the inferiorityplex of his brother.

    With these two emotional wounds, Set would have been easy prey for Andromalius.

    In the end, Set was left empty-handed, with everything sucked out of him, and this is the result.

    Vikir remembered Set''s usual monologue before his regression.

    ''I want to be epted by my father, I want him to look back and see that I''m here.''

    ''You''re so amazing, I wanted to be like you, I wanted to walk beside you, side by side with you.''

    We don''t know if it was a faint remnant of Set''s subconscious, or if Andromalius memorized and mimicked Set''sst words.

    But at the very least, it''s clear that Set had those feelings when he was alive, and it''s equally clear that Andromalius used them to take over Set''s mind.

    "...."

    That made Vikir feel terribly ufortable.

    Even though he didn''t know Set, he empathized with him on some level.

    Quadruple!

    Vikir swatted away the snakes and flies that were biting at his chest.

    Thanks to the protection of the River Styx, he was not mortally wounded, but several chunks of flesh fell off his breastte.

    Andromalius looked at it and mocked.

    [Yeah, that''s how you die, with all those wounds. Now, let''s suck blood again... ... ?]

    But the sneer didn''tst long.

    Ping-.

    Was it an illusion? For a moment, my vision burns ck.

    And for the briefest of moments, my head pings as I realize it''s not an illusion.

    Stagger.

    The moment I regained my senses and came to my senses, this time, the strength in my legs was released.

    [Cough!?]

    Andromalius felt a foreign sensation that took his breath away.

    It wasn''t just his nose and throat, it was his entire body, and it was happening simultaneously.

    He checks himself to see what''s going on and realizes that his entire limbs are numb and shaking.

    The blood vessels were clogged with sticky masses, blocking blood flow.

    Searching for something, I looked inside my body, and soon realized that I was surrounded by ck, clotted blood that was clinging tightly to my veins.

    Abination of stroke and other conditions assaulted Andromalius'' soul at once.

    As the blood stopped flowing, so did the mana.

    For a moment, Andromalius lost control of Set''s body.

    [What the fuck! What the fuck!]

    Andromalius raised his head, watching the body scatter as it lost its host and turned into mana with nowhere to go.

    Whack- whack- whack- whack-

    Dead flies fell from the sky.

    And there stood Vikir, regenerating the scars on his arms and chest with terrifying speed.

    ...dip! ...dip!

    Vikir raised his forearm with a nonchnt expression.

    The red blood from the wound in his forearm drips to the floor and turns into a dark dot like tar.

    Chiiiit-boiling...

    Vikir''s blood made an unpleasant sound as it touched the bones of the floor, and began to boil ck.

    Andromalius looked dazed.

    Finally, he understood. Why his body had changed like this.

    [Yes, you... your blood state changed to...!?]

    Normally, an ordinary drop of blood.

    But the moment its owner harbors malice, it bes a deadly poisonous liquid.

    A venomous poison that can make even the most powerful in the world cower.

    Madame Eight-Legged, the nightmare of the depth, her ghostly toxicity has wrapped itself around Andromalius'' entire body!

 Chapter 122: The Hunt for the Second Son (4)

    <h4>Chapter 122: The Hunt for the Second Son (4)</h4>

    "The poison is listening a littlete."

    Vikir pieced back together the torn flesh of his chest and forearms.

    He could feel the wraiths sealed in the slots of his magic sword, Beelzebub, rampaging madly.

    <Binge Fly ''Beelzebub''> / Awl

    -1 slot: Venomous -Madame Eight-Legged (S)

    Slot -2: Silent Hill �C Mushuhushu (A+)

    Slot -3: Super Regeneration -Bog Smander(A+)

    With his body restored by the regenerative powers of the Swamp Smander, Vikir inspects the slots on Beelzebub.

    Crackle-crackle-crackle-dahlgraak!

    The red beads beneath the de ttered against each other, churning violently.

    The wraith raging most furiously within Beelzebub right now was Madame Eight-Legged.

    She seemed to be very proud of the fact that Andromalius, who had been poisoned by her own poison, moved normally for a while.

    But Vikir was surprised enough by the effect for now.

    The Madame''s poison was so powerful that it made even the world''s tens of thousands stumble, and it was so terrifying that even a life that had already died could be endangered again.

    Being able to inflict debuffs like slow, numb, and blind against such a high ranking demon was a huge win.

    Andromalius, meanwhile, watched in horror as his own body faded to ck.

    [A poison that even the dead can''t escape? Where in the world is this poison... a mere mortal!]

    Andromalius thought as he struggled to control his spinning vision.

    How many demonic creatures in the world possessed such a vile poison?

    The cunning spiders of the Red and ck Mountains, the nine-headed snakes of the Giant Country, the great jellyfish under the ck Sea....

    There are several other candidates that shoulde to mind that live in the depths of the Outer Demon Realm, but how their venom is being used by mere mortals is beyond me.

    ''It''s so virulent that even the greatest demons are reluctant to deal with it, and it''s impossible to even contain or store it somewhere, so how could a mere mortal....''

    But there was no time to think about it now.

    Andromalius gritted his teeth and stepped back.

    The bloodsuckers followed suit and backed away.

    He looks around to see if there are any other bloodsuckers around, but there aren''t.

    The only bloodsucker is the Vikir in front of you.

    But his blood is already tainted with a terrible poison, and sucking on it will only poison you, as it is now.

    "Not good for you."

    The vikir bites down on his index finger, drawing blood and spraying it into the air.

    Cha-cha-cha-cha.

    The bubbling droplets of venom flew like bullets.

    The blood could turn from mundane to venomous at any moment, depending on Vikir''s will.

    Not only is it hemorrhagic and neurotoxic, but it is also deadly acidic, burning Andromalius'' body and soul at the same time.

    [Off-aaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!]

    As a demonic sword, Beelzebub deals direct damage to a demon''s spiritual body.

    Andromalius had no choice but to attach meaning to each and every one of Vikir''s attacks.

    What''s more, Vikir''s own brute strength was more than enough to draw out the power of a sword of the highest Graduator ss.

    Baskerville Seventh Form. Six teeth, followed by a seventh, small but distinct.

    Once again, the tip of the sword oviposited Andromalius'' entire body.

    [Ugh! What the hell!]

    Andromalius gnashed his teeth at the absurdity of it all.

    He hadn''t expected to be attacked by a mere mortal, much less on his home turf.

    Ehhhhh...

    Andromalius swatted at the remaining swarm of flies, forming a ck mist, and quickly ducked behind it.

    He stepped back, intending to close the distance.

    "That''s what I was hoping for."

    Vikir didn''t bother to follow Andromalius as he fled deeper into the cave.

    Only.

    Kararak-

    pulled two ck sticks from his back and assembled them into one.

    It was the ck bow wielded by Adonai, the legendary archer who had led Anubis and Bk in their prime.

    ...Boom!

    An arrow from Anubis flew out and pierced Andromalius'' body.

    Boom!

    Andromalius hit the cave wall and looked down at the hole in his chest with a horrified expression.

    The arrowhead was dyed red and, of course, coated with Madame Eight-Legged''s venom.

    [Ugh, a bow!?]

    This is unbelievable.

    Why would a Baskerville swordsman use a bow?

    He looks up and sees Vikir walking toward him.

    ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

    His stride as smooth as a snake''s, his killing intent eerie.

    The ghostly figure made no sound as it walked, and Andromalius felt goosebumps creep up his spine.

    "No."

    Andromalius decided that he could not face Vikir in the cave.

    We-Eng-

    At Andromalius'' call, all the flies gathered in one ce.

    "They shall swarm like flies."

    These were the flies that had been licking the flesh off the bones of the children and swarming over them.

    These myriads of grave-dwelling flies loyally rallied at their master''s call.

    But.

    "Flies are the spider''s food."

    Vikir intermittently shed his wrist, ck blood pouring from it.

    The fog of blood,ced with venomous spider venom, was killing the flies like nothing else.

    Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz.

    The stiffly moving flies melted like ice cream dumped into a me as soon as they touched Vikir''s blood mist.

    That wasn''t all.

    Vikir had also contaminated the groundwater flowing along the walls and ramps with his blood, so the flies were constantly draining their health without a ce to stick.

    Vikir was in control of the situation, including the terrain around him.

    Waaaahhhh...

    His breathing is getting tighter.

    He didn''t know why he was being pushed.

    Andromalius'' expression crumpled.

    "...For God''s sake, spare a few children."

    He''d never regretted eating all the children he''d kept in the cave for blood bags as much as he did now.

    ... but.

    [Yeah. I''ll give you credit for pushing this body this far as a mere mortal].

    Andromalius was still not rxing.

    Outside the cave, outside the circle, there was a river and a sandy bank that cut a wide swath through the training grounds.

    If he could burst the bank and divert all of the river''s overflow into this cave, he still had a chance.

    ''The regenerative powers of the flesh will not be able to keep up with a demon.''

    He would lose some magic power, but that would also dy the summoning of the gate that would open the Age of Destruction by quite a bit, but it was unavoidable.

    [Ku-k-k-k-k... ... Yeah, that was fine for a human. It was for a moment, but it was embarrassing. But that''s it. You crossed the line.]

    Andromalius raised his blood-red eyes and red at Vikir.

    Then, he took the first step toward leaving the cave.

    He broke the bonds.

    Tsutsutsutsutsuts...

    The binding that had enveloped the entire training hall disappeared.

    Only demons and children under the age of eight could enter the Demon Binding Realm, and it required an enormous amount of magic power to maintain.

    It''s no wonder it''s so secretive that even an archmage can''t detect it, and it''s so powerful that it can''t be broken by anything less than demonic strength.

    Breaking the bond restored Andromalius''s magic to a great extent.

    With that, Andromalius suppressed the poison that was eating away at his body and leapt up through the hole in the ceiling in the center of the cave.

    [Hold on, I''ll show you hell in a moment].

    Andromalius mmed into the rock with a sickeningugh.

    On the other hand, he was d to see the dangerous bastard now.

    In a few more years, he''d be truly unbearable.

    ''If Hugo, Osiris, and the Seventh Count had been the only ones prepared, it would have made a big difference.''

    Better to make sure they''re dead now, so they''ll be ready for the next time they want to devour Baskerville.

    Then.

    Andromalius reached the end of the hollow, where he could see the night sky, and suddenly stopped.

    Down below, he could see Vikir standing still.

    [...?]

    Andromalius furrowed his brow and bowed his head.

    Somehow, Vikir hadn''t given chase.

    He just looks up and stares at Andromalius with his usual expressionless face.

    ... with a strange looking whistle in his hand.

    With that, Vikir raised the tooth-like whistle in his hand to his mouth and blew.

    A high, piercing note echoes through the hollow.

    Andromalius felt a chill run down his spine as he heard it.

    [...!]

    It is impossible not to know that he also has the experience of living for decades wearing the skin of the second son of the Baskervilles.

    What is that whistle in Vikir''s hand, and what does it mean?

    And then.

    The night has grown even darker.

    Dark clouds blocked out the moonlight and a veil of inky darkness fell.

    Long shadows began to cast countless shadows from outside the hole in the ceiling Andromalius had climbed.

    Flutter.

    A ck, blood-colored wisp fluttered in the night breeze.

    Andromalius raised his bloodshot eyes to the sky outside the hole.

    The ceiling after the Demon Binding had disappeared.

    There, the tips of countless shadows pointed at Andromalius.

    "What are you doing there, ... son?"

    Hugo Les Baskervilles standing waving a ck robe.

    Beside him, his eldest son, Osiris Les Baskervilles.

    And the seven hounds standing behind their father. Seven counts.

    Pit Bull.

    Mastiff.

    Doberman.

    Shepherd.

    Rottweiler.

    Wolfhound, and so on.

    A total of one hundred hounds under each knightly order, seven hundred in total.

    The full force of the iron-blooded military power.

    All the dogs of Baskerville were assembled.

 Chapter 123: The Hunt for the Second Son (5)

    <h4>Chapter 123: The Hunt for the Second Son (5)</h4>

    Hugo Les Baskerville asked.

    "..., son, what are you doing there?"

    An expressionless face. The tone so casual.

    It''s like a fathering out of a bar and seeing his son on the side of the road.

    Hugo''s casual tone was calm enough to make Andromalius continue his mimicry of the set.

    [Ah, father, you''re here on business...!?]

    Andromalius'' face lit up, and then he realized what was happening.

    He was now in demonic form.

    A demon that had taken over Set''s body.

    He''s been seen. He had been caught.

    There''s no point in trying to mimic it anymore, since he''s been caught right there on the spot.

    But the way Hugo looked down at Andromalius was as consistent as ever.

    Trash.

    It didn''t matter if it was Set or Andromalius, Andromalius with Set''s body, or Andromalius with Set''s soul.

    At some point, the unpleasant object bes invisible.

    Hugo was looking down at Andromalius with such a gaze now.

    "You look terrible, my son."

    Hugo said, still with the same horrible indifference.

    For a moment, Andromalius gritted his teeth.

    ["Son, son, don''t do it. How dare you mock me on a human subject!"]

    Andromalius'' anger exploded at Hugo for daring to call him son when he knew better.

    ...that moment.

    [...!?]

    Andromalius felt the snake on his left arm stiffen as he reached for Hugo.

    "What?

    Andromalius started to surge out of the cavity, but stopped.

    His feet were tingling like rats.

    With Hugo in front of him, he was frozen in ce.

    ''Why is my body stiffening? Why?''

    Andromalius is the king of the demons. Ten demons who crossed over to the human realm to bring about an age of destruction.

    But why does he freeze at the sight of a mere mortal?

    ''Fear? That''s impossible. Even if you''re a Sword Master, you''re just a human in the end!''

    Nevertheless, Andromalius found himself unable to move.

    As much as he hated to admit it, it was obvious that this uncontroble emotion surging within him was fear.

    Andromalius finally understood the phenomenon.

    I''m not afraid, but I''m afraid? It sounds strange, but it''s possible.

    Andromalius was clearly not afraid of Hugo.

    The problem was the body.

    Set Les Baskervilles.

    His body is afraid of Hugo.

    Andromalius''s mouth is half open in disbelief.

    A dog is an animal that cannot move before its master.

    It is their destiny to go when their master calls them, even if they know they will die.

    ''But he died a long time ago.''

    Andromalius thought.

    But the fear that Set felt for Hugo was beyond his imagination.

    A fear that was imprinted in his bones. A fear he would never forget, even in death.

    And it was affecting the next user of the body, Andromalius.

    ''Oh, no, no, no, no, this is off the table! I have to move fast...!''

    Andromalius''s face showed his impatience.

    He turns his head and sees the river in the distance.

    All I have to do is burst the dam in front of me and draw the water into this cave, and it will be over.

    But the corpse''s feet, already frozen, don''t move at all.

    They''re even shaking, making it difficult to stand on the ramp.

    Andromalius is just rolling his eyes.

    "...I''m sorry."

    An unfamiliar voice rang out.

    Andromalius looked up, and there was Osiris.

    He was shaking his head with an expression he had never seen before.

    "I''m sorry, brother. I didn''t expect you to be so crowded."

    Hearing this, Andromalius was filled with joy.

    So he turned his face to Set''s and cried out mournfully.

    [It''s all because of you that I''m like this! If only you''d acknowledge me! If only you''d guided me to the right path, I wouldn''t be like this! I wouldn''t have sold my soul to the devil!]

    "...."

    With those words, Osiris shakes his head, his expression even more somber.

    Andromalius was about to move when he realized that the direction Osiris was standing was the only way out.

    ...Pfft!

    A dagger pierces his back, protruding from his breastte.

    [What the hell, this asshole is doing it again...!]

    Andromalius cried out, spewing ck blood from his mouth.

    Before he knew it, Vikir, who had approached from behind, had driven his sword through Andromalius'' spine.

    "I''m used to rock climbing."

    He''d spent days and days climbing on the way to raid Madame''s nest, so he was good at it.

    Vikir lifted his head and looked up at Osiris above.

    He had once thought Osiris cold-blooded, without blood or tears, but now that he had grown older, he could see his true colors.

    Vikir said.

    "Don''t pay any attention to what he says, brother."

    "...!"

    Osiris looked up.

    Vikir spoke briefly.

    "Brother Set has already died in childhood, and this demon has only been acting, hiding in his skin."

    It was half a lie, but there was no way to prove it, so what the hell.

    Given the circumstances, I can''t say much more.

    As Vikirforted Osiris, he ced three or four more stabs into Andromalius'' body.

    Only when Andromalius stretched out the snake on his left arm to counterattack did Vikir fall backwards, kicking off the rock wall and onto the ceiling.

    Then, Vikir and Hugo''s gazes met.

    Nod.

    Hugo nodded.

    He was the Lord of Baskerville, but he was not authorized to call upon the dogs of Baskerville at this time.

    Half a day.

    For half a day, Vikir is their master.

    That was what Hugo had promised when he brought the Pomeranian to him.

    Vikir nced up.

    The moon in the dark clouds was slowly falling.

    Until its light faded and the dawn''s first rays rose, all of the Ironbloods belonged to Vikir.

    Then the master gave the hounds their firstmand.

    "Bite and kill."

    The target is self-exnatory.

    "Heh heh heh... ... You''re cutting through all the demons like that in my life."

    "A demon of the highest rank. This will be a good experience."

    Count Boston Terrier and Count Great Dane sheathed their swords.

    All the seven counts, who were just gathering at the family to see Vikir, draw their swords at once, and terrifying killing intent burst forth.

    Thud.

    Osiris Les Baskervilles, a young master of the Iron Blood Sword Family, also drew his sword.

    A brotherly love that has never been shown because it is clumsy in expressing emotions.

    When Osiris touches his sword, it spreads to a pale bloody color.

    It fluttered.

    And then. The ck robes fluttered in the wind.

    Seven hundred Graduators, led by the Seventh Count, raised their swords.

    Puff-puff-puff-puff-puff!

    Andromalius''s entire body began to explode.

    sh, sh, sh. Stab, stab, stab.

    Countless fierce teeth oviposited Andromalius'' entire body.

    Andromalius was immobilized by Madame''s poison and the fear of his body''s original owner.

    [Aaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!]

    Andromalius unleashed his demon power with all his might.

    Countless bloodsucking flies were unleashed.

    A family of grave-dwellers. The great insects that once ruled this world soared high into the air.

    But they could not rise too high, pickled in the water that ran down the cave walls, the groundwater tainted with spider venom.

    Thud.

    Even more so after Osiris'' sword split Andromalius'' spirit body and Set''s body in half at the same time.

    [...urgh!?]

    As Set''s head flew into the air, Andromalius'' head was also severed.

    It was a fitting end for a man who had brought the continent to the brink of destruction before his regression.

    And now. The situation was settled.

    Each Knight made their way into the training hall where Set had been staying.

    With Set gone, it was easy for anyone to enter the training hall.

    The foul smell of magic and poison, the corpses of flies, and the bones of children strewn about were enough to make anyone cringe.

    "You''ve done it again."

    "He''s my nephew, and he''s amazing. I''m so proud of him."

    Boston Terriers and Great Danese up to pet Vikir''s head, showing off their inner faces.

    The other Seven Counts also sneak up on Vikir, pretending to know him, and showering him with praise andpliments.

    "...."

    Meanwhile, Hugo and Osiris are silent as they look into the depths of the training hall.

    Countless strewn bones, strewn miasma, the rotten and twisted interior of the cave.

    "...is this the inside of Baskerville."

    Hugo''s voice rose from the depths of his lungs.

    He didn''t show it, but he, himself, seemed shocked.

    Is it because of the corruption and death of the second son, or is it about a mighty demon hiding nearby, or both?

    I don''t know what else is in his mind. No, maybe even himself.

    Osiris''s mind, on the other hand, was a little easier to read than Hugo''s.

    "...Set."

    Osiris stared into the deep pool where Set supposedly resided.

    A cold, narrow, lonely den. Was this where Set had spent all those years sharpening his sword and harboring his poison?

    Osiris thought back to the long years of Set''s training.

    Where had it all gone so wrong.

    Then.

    Vikir stepped forward.

    "You have nothing to me yourself for, brother. This is all the work of demons."

    But Osiris shook his head.

    "No. I''m just as guilty of giving the demon a chance. I am to me. Set has been a great admirer of mine since he was a child."

    The confession was somewhat surprisinging from his mouth. Vikir''s eyes widened a little, but he didn''t show it.

    Osiris spoke, a hint of sadness radiating from his expressionless face.

    "It is the second thing to feel sorry for the corruption and death of flesh and blood. Prior to that, the people of Baskerville, the children who would be the future of the family, had been sacrificed so many times... ... And I regret that I have been neglecting it until now."

    "...."

    On that point, Vikir could only nod.

    But this happened even before the regression. It wasn''t something that could be stopped.

    ... Just then.

    "What!"

    A member of the Pit Bull Knights shouted in the distance.

    Staffordshire Baskerville. The knight who assisted Vikir in the past stretched out his sword and shouted.

    "Enemy, the enemy is alive, fleeing!"

    At those words, more than seven hundred eyes turned in unison to one ce.

    It was the mask that underestimated the amazing vitality unique to demons.

    [Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha, you stupid hounds! Die!]

    Andromalius was fleeing with only his head.

    He stretched his winged serpent tail down the cut side of his neck and flew away at tremendous speed. Toward the river in the distance.

    [The time to open the gate will be dyed, but it can''t be helped! That''s what the other brothers will do! Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha-]

    Andromalius cursed at the Baskervilles and charged toward the dam.

    ....

    ...No, he was not going to run.

    Thwack-

    He would have if Hugo hadn''t drawn his longsword from his belt.

    ...sh!

    A sound like explosives, a strike faster than lightning.

    In that brief moment, every knight in Baskerville saw it.

    Seven crimson thunderbolts, powerful enough to split the sky into seven pieces.

    It evaporated a thickyer of dark clouds in an instant and aimed for Andromalius beyond.

    [hahahaha... ha?]

    Andromalius didn''t even finishughing.

    digig-

    He disintegrated in midair without leaving a single scrap of meat behind.

    Even his soul was shredded to pieces.

    "...."

    All the swordsmen of Baskerville were humbled by Hugo''s incredible strength.

    Even the Seventh Count and Osiris the young master, stared at Hugo''s back with trembling pupils.

    Meanwhile. Hugo muttered as he looked up at the sky split into seven pieces.

    "...mustache. I''ll shave it."

    It seemed that he was remembering the only traces of Roxana and Penelope, who had parted a long time ago, and the only traces of their reunion.

 Chapter 124: The Hunt for the Second Son (6)

    <h4>Chapter 124: The Hunt for the Second Son (6)</h4>

    A few days have passed.

    In every territory under Baskerville''s jurisdiction, in every square, rooms have been set up.

    <Information on the process for investigating andpensating for the disappearance of infants within Baskerville''s territory>.

    -The purpose of this room is to uncover andpensate for all cases of infant disappearances that urred between the years B,C 10 and A,C 19 of the Empire.

    In ordance with the principles of Article 1, Paragraph 4 of the Vikir Special Law, apensation n is being sent to all families and nurseries where missing children urred during this period, so that the liquidators and rted parties can fill out the relevant documents and submit them to the city hall within the time limit and recover the remains of the lost children. ...

    The Baskerville family has thoroughly investigated a series of incidents, including infanticide and kidnapping, and conductedpensation procedures.

    While they did not reveal that a demon of the highest order had descended, they did not mince words about the horrific actsmitted by the Baskervilles'' second son.

    This was a small constion to the bereaved family, whose lives had been destroyed by the loss of their child, and who had organized protests and hunger strikes to demand an investigation and find out the truth.

    They were also able to receive real-time reports on the punishment process of the perpetrators and see them in person.

    The first to be brought to justice was the set''s mother, Noot, who served as a participatory judge and juror.

    She was surprisingly not brainwashed by the demon and cried out the whole way to the courtroom to be allowed to see Set.

    Noot was summarily executed on a total of 1,642 charges, including releasing poisonous snakes in the children''s rooms, first-degree poisoning, conspiracy to kidnap the eldest daughter, and aiding and abetting the kidnapping of Set''s infant.

    Set''s nannies were subsequently lined up and publicly executed, as were Set''s henchmen who worked under him to systematically kidnap and transport children.

    The trial and execution of a high-ranking member of Baskerville''s inner circle on the spot came as a shock to many estatesmen.

    It reaffirmed the perception that thews of Baskerville were so severe and thorough that not even Baskerville could escape them.

    Also.

    Numerous orphanage directors who sold children were decapitated, and brokers, lobbyists, and government officials who participated in the falsification of documents were torn limb from limb.

    Countless others disappeared or were crippled as dew on the sentence.

    For those children who had no family, memorials were erected and maintained annually by high-ranking officials.

    Many annual rituals were organized for constant remembrance.

    All of this was the handiwork of Osiris, the patriarch of the House of Baskerville, and entirely under his care and control.

    No, one. There was a being to whom Osiris had ceded some of his authority.

    Vikir Van Baskerville.

    This hero, who survived a war with barbarians outside the borders, was recognized upon his return as the original discoverer and chief contributor to the project.

    He was given a share of the state''s authority and his fame grew to great heights.

    Osiris and Vikir''s work was swift and precise.

    Within days, all the relevant specialws were in ce, and it was no more than a week before they were actually enforced on the ground.

    It was an event of such magnitude that an imperialmission was sent to investigate it, but it was unusual that no noise was heard afterward.

    * * *

    "Right, right,e here, Pomeranian."

    Hugo shaved his mustache, a lifelong vice.

    It didn''t exactly make him more likable, but it was surprising to see him try so hard to look pretty for his granddaughter.

    Pomeranian touched Hugo''s dull chin and smiled brightly.

    "Look at her smile. He looks just like Roxana, and just like Penelope."

    Hugo held the Pomeranian''s gaze with a mixture of happiness and sadness.

    Meanwhile. Vikir had been summoned to Hugo''s office and was watching the scene.

    Osiris was there, too.

    "Long time no see, brother."

    Hugo has been overworkedtely, and his eyes are a bit hollow.

    But as he smiles faintly at Vikir, his face seems much more human than before.

    To Vikir, who bowed reverently, Hugo said.

    "You must be very busy these days."

    "Yes."

    "By the time I''m done with this matter, it will be toote. Hurry up and join the Academy."

    Vikir shook his head.

    "The family is still in turmoil. I''ll have to wait until things are a little more organized before I go...."

    Vikir still didn''t believe Hugo.

    Purge. Arge-scale purge.

    Hugo seemed to be using this incident to reorganize the power structure within the family.

    Reality is not a fairy tale.

    This series of trials and punishments, which seemed to be a process of justice being served, was actually just a show, Vikir thought, an outgrowth of the political battles of the big boys.

    It was rare for a Baskerville family to fully admit responsibility and paypensation in a high-profile case like this infanticide and kidnapping.

    But Hugo had done so.

    It was an act of cold political judgment, not an appeal to emotions like morality or humanity.

    "To officially recognize the family''s responsibility for the incident, and to remove those involved from their positions of authority. To eliminate many of their enemies and consolidate their power.

    Re-weaving the te. aka ''making a new board''.

    The number of those who have been ousted from the power structure due to this set incident is numerous.

    From the most insignificant to the most prominent.

    When these people are purged and demoted at once, several lines are shaken.

    For example, the power of the seven counts to keep the family in check was significantly weakened.

    It was only natural that the limbs were cut off.

    There was also some shuffling within the Knights.

    A series of elderly senators and deputies were purged to punish demonic infiltrators, a process spearheaded by the family line, Osiris.

    Vikir, with his pre-Regression knowledge, was of course part of the operation, and not just to solidify his position as a representative of Patriarch Hugo''s line.

    Data on the contacts Set had been secretly making.

    Vikir smuggled it out and handed it over to Sindhiwendi to analyze.

    To determine the identities and current locations of the other Ten Commandments.

    ''I don''t want to do this! I''m already overworked enough as it is, and what, you want me to track the location of demons at the King level? How many heads do you think I have?

    Of course, she didn''t want to take on such a dangerous task.

    ''So. You don''t want to trade with the natives?''

    In the face of a mega-deal of epic proportions with the natives of Depht, she had no choice but to give in.

    ...Well, let''s just say it was.

    There was one thing Vikir didn''t understand right now.

    ''Why would they want to send me to the Academy, especially at this point....''

    Vikir has no reason to refuse, but the timing is a little too good to be true.

    It''s good to have a public figure like Vikir as a face when you''re trying to weed out the noise like Hugo is doing now.

    It''s good to have someone like Vikir as the face of the family when there''s no one in the family who doesn''t know that Vikir is Hugo''s line, so that Hugo can take the knife with a good cause.

    After all, Vikir was the first to recognize and report Set''s corruption.

    "Sending me to the Academy now would be inefficient from Hugo''s perspective.

    So Vikir didn''t understand why Hugo was trying to send him to the Academy so soon.

    Normally, Hugo would take the initiative and tell him to dy his enrollment for a few years....

    "Is he up to something?

    But since he couldn''t ask outright, he could only suspect.

    Then.

    Osiris, who had approached, spoke up.

    "My father is concerned that you will be caught in the aftermath of a power struggle and get hurt."

    ...concerned?

    Vikirughed in disbelief.

    Hugo wouldn''t do that. Who was the great man to be worried about that heartless scoundrel?

    It was strange that Osiris should even be listening to him in the first ce.

    "Isn''t this supposed to be Butler Barrymore''s job?

    But Butler Barrymore was too busy marveling at Hugo''s mustache.

    "My lord. You look much better without a mustache."

    "Indeed, but it makes me look very hollow."

    Hugo smiled weakly as he styled the Pomeranian''s hair into a feather braid, a skill he didn''t know where he''d learned.

    ''What an unfamiliar sight.''

    Vikir thought to himself.

    ... Tuck!

    Osiris''s hand came up to rest on his shoulder.

    It was unexpectedly warm.

    Vikir looked up to see Osiris standing next to him, looking down at him.

    "Thanks to you, I know. That I have duties as an individual, but also as a brother."

    "...."

    "Do not worry about yourself, but go to the Academy."

    Osiris seemed to be trying to change, at least a little, in the way he treated his brothers from now on.

    He turned to Vikir with an awkward, clumsy smile.

    "I''ll have everything sorted out by the time you return home for your first vacation."

 Chapter 125: Admission to the Academy (1)

    <h4>Chapter 125: Admission to the Academy (1)</h4>

    Easterners, don''t boast of the pyramids.

    Westerners, don''t talk about Babylon.

    There is no ce for them in front of the emperor''s academy ''Colosseo''.

    All fame is for this.

    All shall be in its shadow.

    * * *

    The Colosseo Academy. The most prestigious academy in the world, from east to west, north to south, and across the central continent.

    Located in the heart of the Central Continent, in the capital city of the imperial family, the academy upies the entirety of the most fertile yolknd in the Imperial Capital.

    Unlike the ''Magic Tower'', which specializes in magic, and the ''Varangian'', which specializes in martial arts, there is a tendency to value both literal and martial arts. It is famous for not being able to enter or graduate if you do not meet the strict standards.

    For the start of the new semester, crowds of students flocked to Venezior, the capital of the ROK.

    Freshmen.

    And their families.

    And the groups escorting them.

    And the hordes of people trying to sell them stuff.

    It''s the one time of year when thergest concentration of people can be found at the Academy.

    All the new students from the East, West, South, and North who flocked to the Imperial City had to marvel twice: once at the beauty of the capital, and again at the grandeur of the Academy.

    Venezior, the city of water.

    The capital of the Imperial Empire of ROK, Venezior is a gently sloping basin, where rivers from across the continent converge to create a myriad of waterways.

    As you drive into the city center, you''ll be greeted with sweeping views of the entire city on thend below.

    With a crystal clear freshwaterke gently hugging the ecliptic, 112 inds on top of it, and nearly 400 bridges, the metropolis looks like a paradise.

    Slow, warm rivers.

    Countless waterways and bridges connecting them.

    Beautiful architecture rises high above the crowded streets above the bridges.

    Numerous aerial bridges connect skyscraper after skyscraper, and greenery grows all year round on the piers.

    The city''s waterways have be important transportation routes, creating a unique and beautiful cityscape, and it is not umon to see canoes traveling on the waterways in the alleys, as well as various street vendors on them.

    As an imperial capital, it is also home to a number of modern cultural institutions, including theaters, museums, clock towers, churches, opera houses, the Imperial Library, and huge public baths.

    But it''s the Academy that''s most famous. Home to some of the continent''s finest materials.

    The Colosseo.

    This massive, circr cluster of buildings is home to about 20,000 people, including students, professors, and workers of all kinds.

    Together, the buildings form a gigantic arena surrounding a singlerge stage, and a walk around the diameter of the Academy grounds would take the average person over four hours.

    The academy is divided into two main parts: the dormitory building, where students live, and the ssroom building, where sses are held. The dormitory building is divided by grade and gender, and the ssroom building is divided by grade and ss.

    Since the school is a four-year program, there are four grades.

    Students are divided into first, second, third, and fourth grades, and there were rare cases of students taking a leave of absence or returning to school after failing the graduation examination.

    There were two main sses.

    The "Cold ss".

    And the "Hot ss".

    The Cold ss includes students who specialize in swords, bows, and spears, and they take courses rted to their specialty as required courses for their majors, other Cold sses as electives for their majors, and courses in the Hot ss as required courses for their general education.

    On the other hand, the Hot ss contains students whose primary specialty is magic, and they take courses rted to their primary elemental magic as required courses, other magics as electives, and courses in the Cold ss as general education requirements.

    In other words. It doesn''t matter if they specialize in swords, bows, spears, fire, ice, earth, or nt magic, the end result is that they have four years to develop a general knowledge of all of them.

    In addition to these sses, of course, there is a wealth of other general electives innguages, theology,w, astronomy, geography, military studies, etc.

    In order to graduate, students must take a certain number of credits of these major requirements, major electives, general education requirements, general education electives, and courses for majors and minors, sometimes voluntarily, sometimespulsorily, ording to their schedule and aptitude.

    ss schedules are organized, sometimes voluntarily, sometimes by force.

    Naturally, there is a pecking order among students based on their grades, which has a huge impact on theirter academic life.

    In addition, students are limited in their ability to participate in clubs, volunteer activities, work experience programs, and other internal and external activities such as choosing a major.

    Therefore, freshmen are eager to take the academy''s cement test for the first time.

    Seniors are also very interested in the results of the freshmen''s cement test.

    They want to recruit the best possible juniors for their clubs and social organizations.

    ...Is that so?

    The Academy''s current students have been buzzing since February, when the freshman cement test ended.

    They wanted to get a head start on the new students who had already stood out.

    "I heard the freshman cement test is over?"

    "Who stood out the most?"

    "Probably the ones who did well in the practical evaluation, right?"

    Except for the professors, the freshmen''s information is off-limits, but... the grades and rankings of the freshmen were already circting among some powerful students.

    Like stock market spection, the names, grades, and rankings of the new students were traded at a high price depending on their uracy.

    This is because most of those who enter the academy are likely to enter the upper echelons of the Empire in the future, so it''s important to make connections in advance.

    "Oho, look at this, all the new students this year have great grades~"

    "Huh? Isn''t the first ce in the cold ss tied?"

    "Tudor from the Sun Spear n and Bianca from the God Bow Secret House are tied for first ce."

    "They''re tier one. They are our club''s top priority for recruitment!"

    The current students of the Cold ss were already excited by the rumors of an outstanding junior would be joining them.

    Tudor, a spearman, and Bianca, an archer, are likely to receive a lot of offers from their seniors, as the school values practical skills much more highly than written ones.

    These geniuses have caught the attention of professors and seniors alike.

    -Ranking in the Cold ss''s practical evaluation

    < 1- Don Quixote Tudor, Usher Bianca >

    < 2- Highbrow Baskerville >

    < 3- Midbrow Baskerville >

    < 4- Lowbrow Baskerville >

    < 5- Sancho Barataria >

    < 6- ... >

    .

    .

    Tudor, eldest son of Don Quixote, one of the seven great houses of the empire and known for his spearmanship.

    Bianca, the eldest daughter of Usher, one of the seven great houses of the empire and known for her archery skills.

    And the Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro triplets from the Irondes of Baskerville. Sancho Barataria, who was selected as a schrship student by the Northern Mercenary Guild Alliance, and others are the super-rookies who are currently causing a stir in the Cold ss.

    On the other hand, the Hot ss was also in a frenzy.

    "Wow, there''s a kid who got a perfect score on the practical exam?"

    "He''s second in the written exam, too, so he''s really good at studying!"

    "''Sinir''? A genius among geniuses has been admitted."

    "Did you hear the rumor? This is information from the admissions office... ... What a beautiful girl... ... ."

    The department was paying all the attention to Sinir, a genius who scored a record-breaking 1st in the practical assessment and 2nd in the written assessment.

    -Practical Evaluation Ranking of the Hot ss

    <1- Sinir>.

    .

    .

    She didn''t reveal her family name, but it was safe to assume that she had some sort of fancy background behind her, as she was the top of the mage ss, which required an enormous amount of schrship money in the first ce.

    In addition, the tycoon Bourgeoisie, the ultra-violent Leviathan, and the religious Quarvadis also admitted many talented students.

    Normally, the seven great families would avoid admitting students from simr grades so that their own talents could easily take the top spot, but this time, the great talents of all seven families were admitted at the same time.

    It was such a strong entry that this generation of freshmen was dubbed the "Glory Generation".

    This was because there was a massive influx of talented students who could have be ss leaders and student council presidents if they had entered at different times.

    ....

    And.

    Overshadowed by a strong freshman ss the likes of which we haven''t seen in recent decades, and an academic culture that values practical skills far more highly than written work, there was one person who was not being recognized.

    -Comprehensive Written (Theory) Evaluation Ranking

    <1- Vikir>.

    .

    .

    Study bug.

    Sandman.

    Amoner without a surname.

    Common names.

    A hound with no name tag or leash entered the Academy.

    �C

    �C

    �C

    T/N: "Tudor from the Sun Spear n and Bianca from the God Bow Secret House are tied for first ce." in raw : "????(�溣����)? ??, ????(���ؼ�)? ???? ?? 1???." Don Quixote of Sun Spear n & Usher of God Bow Secret House. idk if this is the correct?

 Chapter 126: Admission to the Academy (2)

    <h4>Chapter 126: Admission to the Academy (2)</h4>

    "So, this is where I''ll be going to school from today!"

    A boy enters the academy.

    The boy walks to the Academy''s main gate, full of ambition.

    He is surrounded by a huge crowd of people in the same situation as him, the new students of the 20th ss.

    They are like carp swimming backward towards the gate.

    Suddenly, I hear a middle-aged woman''s voice behind me.

    "Oh my God, look at him, he forgot his backpack!"

    It was the mother of a freshman boy, and she ran toward the academy''s main entrance in a panic, calling her son''s name.

    "Hey, Vikir, don''t forget your backpack!"

    Suddenly, a few heads turned among the crowd of people climbing the main entrance.

    "Huh?"

    "Me?"

    "Me?"

    A dozen or so boys scattered about turned their heads.

    This was because they all had themon name of Vikir.

    "Oh, mom, don''t call me that loud!"

    Vikir, who had forgotten his backpack, scurried down the hill, red-faced, grabbed his backpack, and started back up the hill.

    The other nine Vikirs turned their heads again, realizing that their mother hadn''t called them.

    ... but.

    There was one Vikir who never looked back in the first ce.

    A freshman with stuffy bangs hiding his face, horn-rimmed ssespletely obscuring his eyes, and a shabby shirt and pants, carrying a modest backpack.

    Vikir. Vikir Van Baskerville.

    A boy who shed his Baskerville surname to take the Academy exams as amoner.

    Inwardly, Vikir thought it was a good thing he''d left the Baskerville name behind.

    However, the name of Vikir Van Baskerville, which had been recognized by the imperial court, had be so famous that it had be a nuisance in his daily life.

    " ... It defeats the fundamental purpose ofing to the Academy.

    Vikir had a clear idea of what he wanted to do when he joined the Academy.

    To capture and kill the demons lurking in the ecliptic, the traitors and traffickers of humanity.

    To do so would prevent an age of destruction in the near future.

    Vikir remembered a time before his regression.

    Ten high-ranking demons descended upon the mortal realm.

    Together, they erected ten giant pirs and formed a gate to the demonic realm.

    One of those ten demons was Andromalius, the demon who wore the skin of Set Les Baskerville.

    Luckily, we were able to kill him before he could umte too much power, or we would have been in trouble.

    If it hadn''t been for Vikir in the first ce, no one would have noticed Andromalius'' presence.

    And now, it''s clear that the other nine Demon are also hiding in the human realm, wearing human skin.

    "ording to Sindiwendi''s research, several high-ranking individuals who were in contact with Set have gathered here on the Imperial City.

    The more people there are, the more likely it is that demons are lurking.

    That''s why Vikir hase to the Academy here, and why he''s assumed a suitable identity to avoid suspicion.

    An academy freshman from amoner''s background.

    He often has to travel outside the academy to attend sses and go on assassination missions, but bing too famous and drawing attention to himself can cause many problems.

    So Vikir purposely entered the academy as amoner.

    Just to focus on the written exams.

    "I''m confident in ... theory.''

    It was a bit too much to get first ce, but in reality, written grades are not treated well anyway.

    Maybe it was because he hadn''t been able to take the academy''s theory ss properly in his previous life.

    <The Holes and Gaps in Modern Swordsmanship Theory...>

    <Anthropological Perspectives on the Ecology of the New Species Mushuhushu...>

    <Examination of the habits and strategies of yetis living in the snowy mountains of the northern continent...>

    <Discussion on the possibility of the existence of undead-type demons that do not have divine power and their strategies...>

    The field experience of a seasoned veteran who had survived through an age of destruction was a great help in verbalizing and describing theories.

    Thus, Vikir was able to write the answer sheet with ease, and that alone earned him first ce honors.

    Meanwhile.

    At the dormitory where Vikir went to unpack his belongings for the rest of his life, he was greeted by many of his fellow students.

    "Do you know the Dao, and would you like to explore it with our Domino club?"

    "Hey, you look so lucky! Why don''t you join our pufferfish cooking study group!"

    "Hey, I''m trying to be nice, bute over here! Our meditation study group is...."

    "It''ll only take a minute, but can you fill out a survey and put your fingerprints and seal stamp on the sign-up sheet for your favorite club?"

    Clubs, research groups, clubs, societies, organizations, etc.

    Many current students are working hard to appeal to new students.

    Among them, the clubs that most freshmen are interested in are major-level clubs that help them with their specs, or clubs that sound interesting just by hearing about them.

    Student council, various sports, band, dance, theater, economic research, and culinary clubs are the main ones that attract freshmen.

    On the other hand, newspaper clubs, horticulture clubs, art clubs, reading clubs, and long-lived beetle research clubs are rtively unpopr.

    Meanwhile. The seniors who were inviting students to join the clubs were also looking for some freshmen with a light in their eyes.

    First of all, ''Tudor'' from the DonQuixote family, famous for his spear skills, and ''Bianca'' from the Usher family, famous for her archery skills, were the first targets of the seniors.

    The same goes for "Sinir," who, despite her unknown affiliation, scored a staggering 1st in practical and 2nd in written.

    ... But none of this matters to Vikir.

    All he can think about is getting back to his dorm, unpacking, and getting some rest.

    Because he has to go on a killing expedition starting tonight.

    "How many pages are there in the book of killings alone?''

    The cklist.

    There were many things that deserved to die, even among humans, not demons.

    Traitors who sided with the demons and sold out humanity.

    ''... That''s a lot of people to kill.''

    Vikir thought to himself as he walked through the crowd of new students.

    Just then.

    "Newspaper department, newspaper department, keep up with what''s going on in the school."

    A familiar voice called out from somewhere.

    Vikir turned to see a familiar face hawking flyers and enrollment forms.

    St. Dolores L Quovadis.

    The youngest early admit student.

    Current third-year senior.

    The academy''s student council president.

    And the head of the newspaper club.

    The school''s number one idol who hasn''t missed a beat in the past three years.

    She was handing out application forms by hand.

    "Senpai, please take a look at this, kaaaak!"

    "Senpai! I''m a fan! I love you!"

    "I joined the academy just to see you!"

    "Wow, you''re so beautiful, so pious, so holy!"

    The freshmen are jostling to get the flyers handed out by this legendary senior, hoping to catch her eye for once.

    "...."

    But as they pass in front of her, Vikir only presses her face-hiding bangs and thick horn-rimmed sses even tighter.

    He has already met St. Dolores.

    " ... I met her once when I was a hound of the night.

    The holy water she brewed for us helped to quell the water gue.

    But the holy woman doesn''t know Vikir''s true face now because he wore a mask.

    So Vikir had to turn away from her and return to his dormitory without giving away his identity.

    There was no point in being recognized.

    * * *

    The atmosphere in the dormitory building was quite rxed.

    The building wasrge and grand, but from an individual''s point of view, there was no need to wander all over the ce.

    It was very well designed so that you didn''t have to wander too much beyond the limited area of your floor, hallways, and stairs.

    The boys'' and girls'' dormitories were attached to the two main buildings in an A-shape, but were strictly separated, with different floors for different grades.

    4th grade is on the 1st floor, 3rd grade is on the 2nd floor, 2nd grade is on the 3rd floor, and 1st grade is on the 4th floor.

    I think this is because the older you get, the harder it is to climb the stairs.

    The rooms are neitherrge nor small, and the standard option is a simple setup with arge bunk bed, an equallyrge desk, and two chairs.

    It had the feel of a standard youth hostel, except that the restroom with shower was a bit dated.

    ... Tuck!

    After arriving at the room, Vikir dropped his simple luggage, consisting of a few clothes, on the desk.

    Then.

    "...Uh, hey, are you in this room too?"

    The voice came from the side of the bathroom.

    Vikir turned his head to see a short boy standing there.

    Blond hair. His cheeks were less chiseled and he had a few false teeth, and his androgynous appearance quite cute.

    A nametag was pinned to his chest, written in crude handwriting.

    ''Piggy.''

    This was his roommate for the next year.

    And Vikir already knew this guy.

    ''Piggy. Here we go again.''

    Before the regression. He remembers him as a nice guy.

    He was the first to reach out to Vikir, who hade to babysit the Baskervilles'' triplets, even when he was doing odd jobs.

    In this life, Piggy was nice, too.

    "Uh, so your name''s Vikir, so you''ll be good to me in the future, and you''ll have to forgive me if I''m a little clumsy and slow. Oh, and I heard there are two bunk beds, so you can pick your own first!"

    Vikir sighed briefly at Piggy''s cheerful suggestion.

    The students at the Academy are young, but they''re smart.

    They''ve been around the block and heard the elite talk, so they''re no strangers to civility, betrayal, politics, and bullying.

    A nice, innocent guy like Piggy gets lost in the jungle of freshmen, where there is a lot of first-mover advantage.

    ''... In a previous life, that''s exactly what happened.''

    Piggy was a longtime victim of bullying.

    His cute looks, small size, and timid personality made him stand out from the crowd of big, muscr, and outspoken boys.

    His hobbies of reading and analyzing information in solitude didn''t fit in with the academic culture of power.

    Vikir knows this, and it''s why he can''t help but look at him withpassion.

    ''Before the regression, Piggy''s roommate was Highbrow Les Baskervilles, I believe, so I have an idea of what his academic life was like back then.''

    Whether he realized it or not, Piggy breathed a sigh of relief at the thought of having a roommate whose first impression, while a bit reticent, was still friendly.

    He must have worried a lot about meeting a scary roommate.

    Then.

    Piggy spoke to Vikir first.

    "Hey, Vikir, you''re going to O.T.ter tonight, right?"

    Freshman orientation.

    I read it as a time to educate the newly admitted freshmen about the basics of the academy ... and a time for the seniors to meet the freshmen and get to know them over drinks.

    It''s not really required, but it''s still something that every freshman should attend.

    The idea is to get to know the people you''ll be spending the next four years with and towork with the seniors.

    The connections you make here will be the foundation of your future career, aka your "line," and you''ve fought through a "bloodbath" to get here.

    ... but.

    "No."

    Vikir was not interested in any of that.

    The Assassination Act.

    Because from now on, the real bloodshed was toe.

 Chapter 127: Admission to the Academy (3)

    <h4>Chapter 127: Admission to the Academy (3)</h4>

    "...?"

    Piggy looked at Vikir with a nk expression.

    Then, in a tone of deep embarrassment, he asked.

    "Oh, you''re not going to OT?"

    "No. I''m not going."

    Vikir was still adamant.

    Piggy gestured frantically toward Vikir, who was unpacking his few remaining belongings.

    "Oh, no! We have to go! If we don''t go to OT, we''ll bebeled an asshole by our seniors, and we''ll be a pariah among our peers, which will make it very difficult for us to get information and connections...."

    Aah. Outsider is a word that refers to a person who does not belong to a group and stands out.

    Not only do they face difficulties in situations that require group strength, such as unexpected lectures, ss schedule changes, and group assignments, but they are also at a disadvantage inworking and information gathering.

    Therefore, Piggy''s point about attending OTs is well taken.

    .... ... That is, in the case of a normal freshman.

    However, in Vikir''s case, it was much easier to be active without being seen by everyone, as he rather wanted to be an assassin.

    Meanwhile, Vikir stared down at Piggy, who was looking sullen.

    Piggy''s gaze was genuinely concerned about Vikir''s academy life.

    He''s still a nice guy, almost to a fault.

    "It''s going to be hard for him to fit in at the academy with this personality.

    Piggy is timid but cautious and good at collecting and analyzing information.

    If Sindiwendy saw him, she''d scout him out in a second.

    However, among the new students at the Academy, Piggy is the easiest person to take advantage of and bully.

    The academy''s culture favored practice and actual work over notes and theory.

    It''s a belief that has been passed down through the generations, not only in the Colosseo, but in other top institutions such as the Magic Academy, the Magic Tower, and the Varangian Academy of Martial Arts.

    In other words, within the academy, power is always above all else.

    It''s not about childish brawls or fistfights, it''s about performance in practical assessments.

    Without that, it''s hard to get noticed.

    In reality, Piggy was good at gathering and analyzing information because he had a good head on his shoulders, but that''s it, he wasn''t very good at anything in cold ss or hot sses, so he always got stuck in practical exams.

    His caring nature, at best, and timidity, at worst, led to subtle ridicule, scorn, and bullying.

    ''And to add insult to injury, he had the misfortune of meeting the vicious Highbro of Baskerville as his roommate for the first semester.''

    From then on, Piggy was always on the sidelines.

    Because of Highbro''s personality, Piggy was barely treated as a human being, and other sses, and even upperssmen, were always bullying and taking advantage of him.

    But despite this, Piggy was a good boy who always had a smile on his face.

    Whenever he saw someone who was weaker than him, he would always lend a hand and help them as best he could.

    "...."

    Vikir nced at Piggy and then looked away.

    Piggy, meanwhile, had no idea what Vikir was thinking, and was still trying to convince him of the necessity of the OT.

    "There''s a lot of powerful seniorsing to this OT! St. Dolores, the student council president, ising! And we have a great ss! You''ve heard of Tudor, the eldest son of Don Quixote, and Bianca, the eldest daughter of Usher! That''s not all! The Baskervilles have triplets, and they''re all amazing! There''s a kid named Sancho from the Mercenary Guild of the North, who passed up a chance to be a top student at Varangian toe here! And then there''s Sinir, who''s a top in the Hot ss, and this person came to the Colosseo after being epted as a top in the Magic Tower! Isn''t it amazing that he''s a top in the Colosseo''s Hot ss? These guys are already considered the next generation of heroes, so you should definitely go see them! I can''t believe I''m in the same ss as these guys....................."

    Actually, it''s great that Piggy already has this information.

    If the seniors of the current students had heard of it, they would make a scouting offer to their club or family just with their ability to collect and analyze information.

    "How''s that? You''re feeling a little more motivated now, huh?"

    Piggy looks up at Vikir with a twinkle in his eye, like he''s looking for apliment.

    But Vikir still shakes his head.

    "But I''m not going."

    "What? Why? What the hell-"

    Piggy, who had hoped to go to OT with his roommate so that they could have each other''s backs, was faced with an unexpected challenge.

    In fact, it was rare, even impossible, for a freshman to skip OT.

    To this reasonable question, Vikir had a short answer.

    "I just don''t want to go."

    That was it.

    Vikir gathered his things and quickly left the room.

    He quickly disappeared down the hallway, which was bustling with freshmen.

    Piggy watched, dumbfounded, and muttered.

    "... Cool. My roommate is a cool guy! I should learn from that kind of determination!"

    Always the positive Piggy.

    * * *

    gloomy evening. The afterglow burning over the high walls of the academy.

    The streets leading down to the lecture hall were already crowded with new students.

    Girls dressed up brightly, boys dressed smartly.

    But somehow, the atmosphere was sloppy and green.

    Sloppy makeup and overdone hairstyles are still on disy, and the girls are standing a bit stiffly.

    Boys and girls are exploring each other''s groups, looking like they''re about to be blown away.

    And the seniors were gently leading the neers to the meeting ce.

    "Okay, Cold ss A, please gather this way."

    "''Hot ss C'', we''ll meet under the red g over here~"

    "Student council executives, please lead the new students to the venue!"

    In the lecture hall where the evening y is over, students and neers enter every empty ssroom because the beginning of the semester has not yet arrived.

    In the corridors of the lecture hall, which quickly became crowded, rumors and gossip about the new students were spreading.

    "These freshmen are really tough. They''re all killing it on their practical assessments~"

    "Of course Tudor, Bianca, and Sinir are the ones you''re most excited about, right?"

    " Well, individually, I suppose, but then there''s the Baskerville triplets, and I''m more excited about their synergy together."

    "But didn''t that... crap say that ''he'' was getting in from Baskerville this year?"

    The chatter among the freshmen heats up even more at thisst statement.

    "Oh, you mean Vikir? I thought that was a rumor."

    "There''s no way he could have aplished such a feat in histe teens, isn''t he a fictional character?"

    "Yeah, well, aristocratic families tend to spread rumors to boost their family''s stock price, and Baskerville is a pretty closedmunity...."

    "There are more than a dozen kids named Vikir in this freshman ss, and they''re allmoners."

    "But there''s one kid who stood out, and he''s the one who took the first written exam."

    "A written exam? Ah, what''s so great about a guy who only knows theory? I don''t find studying worms like that attractive �C jocks are cool!"

    Soon, the chatter in the hallway became more and more frequent.

    New students have entered every ssroom in the lecture hall.

    Boys, girls, boys and girls.

    After a few moments of small talk and eye contact, the ssmates quickly bonded.

    Although the friendships were hastily made, they have already sprouted between them.

    " Is everyone here? Let''s take a roll call of the new students in ss 20."

    The seniors of the student council call out the names on the list and proceed to check the attendance of the ss.

    And then a name is called out.

    "Vikir."

    "Yes."

    "Vikir."

    "Yes."

    "Vikir."

    "Yes."

    "Vikir."

    "...."

    "Vikir?"

    The one absentee who had been called a few too many times bymon names.

    Vikir van Baskerville. No, just "Vikir" now.

    He did indeed not attend the OT.

    It''s just that he wore a ck cloak and mask as the Hound of the Night instead of the student Vikir.

    ...Boom!

    Vikir stepped on the roof of the academy''s spire wearing a ck cloak and a gas mask shaped like a stork''s beak used by medieval gue doctors.

    Over a wall almost as high as the city walls, he stepped into the beautiful city center of the Imperial City, with its countless waterways and bridges.

    Vikir melted soundlessly into the pitch-ck city.

    It''s a night when ssmates of the 20th ss are drinking and strengthening their friendships with their seniors and ssmates.

    In the meantime, Vikir will visit the mansions of those on the kill list, one by one.

    The demons. And traitors.

    It is here, in the Imperial City, that the traitors of mankind gather!

    ''...Myrades, be patient. I will avenge you in a moment.''

    Vikir remembered the faces of his fellow hounds who had been betrayed and died, recalling the bad ties of his previous life.

    And then.

    He followed the faint scent of demons across the city.

    The Night Hounds have finally begun their hunt.

 Chapter 128: Admission to the Academy (4)

    <h4>Chapter 128: Admission to the Academy (4)</h4>

    A dark night.

    In front of arge, shabby warehouse, several mercenaries were burning cigarettes.

    As they chuckled and gossiped, they spoke with a sense of relief.

    "It''s so refreshing to not have to listen to the children whine."

    "The warehouses have been full of them thest few days."

    "But where have they all gone, in one day?"

    "At dawn, a wagon came and loaded everything up. I didn''t ask where you were going. live long."

    Not long ago, the warehouse was home to a number of orphans with no connections.

    But now the warehouse is empty, and in a few days, a new batch of children will be transported from somewhere.

    And then they''ll disappear, no one knows when or where.

    "I want to know where they''reing from and where they''re going."

    "Arthur, wondering about useless things will lead you to your destiny."

    "I heard they go to some kind of nursery in the center of the Imperial City."

    "That''s right, a nursery run by the Religious Quovadis. Don''t worry."

    The mercenaries make small talk, stretching and yawning.

    Then.

    Suddenly, the mercenaries fall silent.

    A hulking man who must have stood at least six feet tall stepped to their side.

    Captain Ron Bartison.

    A fierce mercenary from the North. ''The Flesh Grinder'', ''The Butcher''s Hammer'', and other gory nicknames followed.

    "Stop talking and stand guard, if you want to take home a handful of coins for your wasted life."

    "...."

    "Trashy stuff."

    Bartison clicked his tongue and continued on his way.

    He sneered inwardly at the mercenaries who couldn''t speak a word at his size.

    What kind of argument could a lowly mercenary with no mana have against a man of his stature?

    ...?

    The standing mercenaries didn''t just talk.

    Thud.

    A man slumped to the ground.

    He was followed by the other mercenaries, who went limp.

    "What the hell?"

    Bartison quickly reached to the hammer at his waist.

    Now, a long shadow is cast in the glow of the roaring campfire.

    "What, what?"

    Bartison was startled.

    A figure peered down from the roof of the warehouse.

    A ck cloak, a ck hat, and an ominous stork''s beak mask covering its face.

    "...are you Ron Bartison?"

    The spooky voice said.

    Bartison swallowed dryly.

    Tsutsutsuts...

    Bartison''s hammer took on an aura.

    A liquid aura that could only be used by those who had attained enlightenment, an aura that symbolized the Graduator, wrapped around the hammer.

    "What are you doing!"

    He swung the hammer with all his might.

    ...tried to swing it away.

    But all he could manage to swing were his two wrists, which were now missing.

    Thud!

    The hammer flew upward with such momentum that itnded behind him, scattering the aura it carried.

    "...?"

    Bartison staggered backward.

    No blood gushed out. The cut where his wrist had been severed had been instantly dried by the heat.

    "Uh-huh?"

    Bartison opened his mouth to scream.

    But he couldn''t.

    The ominous shadow had crawled down from the roof of the warehouse and was now looking into his face.

    "Ron Hubert Bartison. First pact with the demon four years ago, when he molested and killed the 13-year-old girl next door and sacrificed her. Since then, he''s been stealing information from the Northern Guild Union and feeding it to the demon. Finally, he betrayed his toon, the 1st toon, 4th Company, 207th Regiment, 75th Division, 5th Legion of the Humanity Alliance, by handing over the location of the toon''s sleeping quarters to the enemy while on guard duty. Led a friendly toon to destruction. Is that right?"

    The Shadow''s question was hard and chilling.

    Bartison stammered a reply.

    "Ughhhh... ... At the very beginning, the incident from 4 years ago is correct, but what happens after that!? I didn''t do them!"

    "Yeah. They''re just things you haven''t done yet."

    "What, what?"

    Bartison gasped, stepping back.

    But he couldn''t.

    This time, his ankle was severed.

    "No!"

    Bartison couldn''t even scream anymore.

    The Shadow stretched out his right hand, and a ck sword was drawn and plunged into his throat.

    Bartison struggled, and then he was dead.

    "...."

    Vikir. The hound of the night.

    He stared down at Bartison''s body in front of him.

    No, he wondered.

    In time, Bartison''s corpse would quickly begin to decay and turn to mush.

    Just as Set Baskerville had said.

    "The odor is still there."

    Vikir''s brow furrowed slightly.

    Those who have made a pact with the demon emit a rotten odor from their very souls.

    A stench that grew more and more foul with the degree of corruption.

    Veteran swordsmen who have lived through the Age of Destruction recognize the scent like a ghost, but the people of this age will not yet be able to smell it.

    So for now, only Vikir knew how to smell it.

    Tsutsutsutsuts...

    Bartison''s face melted like ice under the sun, and soon he was gone, his skeleton on full disy.

    It was unusual for the face to decay so quicklypared to other body parts.

    "I wonder if this is the ability of the Ten Commandments who made a pact with him? I''ll have to investigate that as well."

    Vikir took an owl from his bosom and wrote a letter detailing the situation.

    It was addressed to Sindiwendi, who had a number of agents and informants at his disposal.

    With the letter in hand, Vikir turned away.

    Several bottles of liquory in front of the roaring campfire.

    Vikir picked up the strongest bottle of rum and poured it over the bloodstains on his cloak.

    ...

    The strong liquor washed away the dirty blood.

    Vikir tore the page from the entry in the kill book that listed the name Ron Bartison and threw it into the bonfire.

    The page turns ck in an instant and curls into a ball, then turns to ash and floats away into the sky.

    ...soon.

    "Off."

    "It''s your back."

    "What, did I fall asleep?"

    The mercenaries standing in front of the warehouse began to wake up one by one.

    "Huh?"

    But all they saw was a dying bonfire that had lost most of its wood, and a faceless corpse lying in a heap beside it.

    * * *

    Ding- ding- ding- ding- ding- ding- ding- ding- ding- ding- ding- ding-

    From the clock tower at the center of the academy, the majestic bell chimed twelve times.

    A little after midnight. The night''s tasks were over earlier than he''d expected.

    Vikir had visited mansions in upscale neighborhoods, warehouses on the outskirts of the city, gambling dens in the slums, glitzy clubs in the basement, secluded houses by theke, brothels, and more, and that night alone he had snapped twenty-nine heads.

    The only thing they all had inmon was that they''d made pacts with the demon, were used of betrayal and infidelity, and their faces melted immediately upon death.

    Unfortunately, Vikir got almost no clues out of this whole process.

    This meant that his assassination was going to be a long and arduous one.

    ''I didn''t expect a harvest from the first step.''

    Today is literally just the first day.

    Vikir returned to the academy, the pages of the Killing Journal still thick in his mind.

    ...Jaw!

    He climbed over the Academy''s outer wall, which was as high and solid as a city wall.

    From this vantage point, you can see that the Academy''s buildings are indeedrge and magnificent.

    In the distance, the dormitories are silent in the darkness.

    Vikir flies toward the lecture hall.

    Bright lights and boisterousughter emanated from the windows of the buildings in the other direction.

    ''...OT, is the freshman wee party still going on?''

    Vikir thought for a moment.

    Should he go back to his dorm and sleep, or should he stay upte and attend the freshman wee dinner?

    After a few moments of deliberation, the answer came quickly.

    ''Just show up.''

    It wasn''t aboutworking with seniors or ssmates.

    I just wanted to have an alibi, just in case.

    He was also a little worried about Piggy being alone.

    Vikir took off his mask, tucked it into his arms, andnded on the roof of the lecture hall.

    As he was about to descend the stairs leading down.

    ...Ping! Boom!

    A single firecracker shot high into the air, lighting up the night sky.

    In the next moment, Vikir could see two men and woman standing by the railing of the rooftop stairs.

    "...!

    Vikir''s eyes narrowed.

    The brief glow of the firecrackers as they exploded and faded was enough to tell him who they were.

    The beautiful woman, tall and sharp-featured, was unmistakably Usher Bianca, a freshman in ss 20.

    She was a super rookie who was making a name for herself by ranking first in the cold ss cement test.

    The boy''s face, on the other hand, was not one that Vikir remembered particrly well.

    Their vibe was odd.

    The boy squeezed his eyes shut and called out to Bianca.

    "I... fell in love with you the moment I saw you! Won''t you go out with me! I''ll be nice to you!"

    Apparently, he was a second-year student.

    But Bianca was adamant.

    "Hah...."

    With a deep sigh, she swept her bangs and squinted one eye.

    "You''re right. Did you call me up to that rooftop just to say that?"

    "Uh, yeah. Uh, yeah, right?"

    "Well, first of all, let me apologize, I can''t afford to go out with a guy or anything right now, and I only got in today in the first ce."

    "Ha, but you have nothing to lose by going out with me! I''m in the student council and I''m also in the leading club...!"

    "Yeah. I''m sorry."

    And with that, Bianca turned and kicked her confessor to the curb.

    Vikir stood behind the stone pir of the railing and thought.

    ''Good times. Well, it has nothing to do with me.''

    Watching the innocent lovemaking of children twenty years younger than him made the tip of his nose tickle.

    Vikir soon pulled away, his back to the pir.

    At that very moment.

    "...!"

    Bianca''s head snapped up.

    "Who''s there?"

    Bianca asks in a cold voice, and then she takes a step and shoots toward the stone pir that Vikir is hiding behind.

    ''Oh no. You must have good eyesight because you''re from the Sacred Pce.''

    Vikir shrugged once.

    Bam!

    Vikir mmed into the wall and leaped down.

    No need to take the stairs.

    Vikir leaped from railing to railing, pir to pir, and quickly disappeared in the direction of the lecture hall.

    Bianca caught up with him a few minutester, and her eyes widened.

    "...What was that? I could definitely feel the presence."

    Bianca looked again at the stone pirs, railings, and stairs that had been kicked in just before.

    But something that had been there was gone, like a ghost.

    "Did I see it wrong?"

    Bianca scratched her head.

    The divine archers of Usher, the superhumans, can see and hear things miles away.

    They are also masters of the art of archery, and their bodies are so strong and gaunt that it is no exaggeration to say that no one can match their speed, especially in pursuit.

    Bianca, the eldest daughter of such a family, chasing someone and losing them?

    That couldn''t happen, at least not within this academy.

    "I must have been looking in the wrong ce, I was too sensitive."

    Bianca turned to look between the stone pirs.

    It was time to return to her seat at the new student reception.

    ... Just then.

    "!"

    Bianca stopped in her tracks.

    A faint smell wafted past her nostrils.

    It was the unmistakable scent of strong rum.

    Not the kind of smell you''d expect to find on a rooftop exit staircase with nothing but the night breeze and moonlight.

    What does that mean?

    ''Someone was here.''

    Bianca''s expression hardened.

    Someone had been here just moments ago.

    But that didn''t matter now.

    What mattered was that someone was here, and that someone was gone.

    And that someone who had been here had evaded Bianca, the prodigy of the Usher family!

    ''...No way!''

    That person must have been there when Bianca was feeling the hits.

    But what about the fact that there''s nothing in front of her now?

    It means that the person has fled at a speed that ''barely'' exceeds her own.

    ''Who could it be? A senior or a professor?''

    But there''s no reason for a senior or a professor to run away from Bianca''s pursuit.

    Moreover, Bianca was confident that she could outrun any senior or professor in terms of speed.

    After all, she''d demonstrated that in her practical assessment.

    "... But who."

    Did he mean that anyone in the academy could just walk away and leave her behind?

    Bianca sniffed, confused, at the scent of rum that was slowly fading on the night breeze.

    Then.

    "Hey, Bianca,e on, it''s almost time for the freshman talent show!"

    I hear my ssmates waving and calling from the window below.

    "...."

    Bianca can''t help but turn on her heel with a nervous look on her face.

    With only the scent of cheap rum wafting behind her.

 Chapter 129: The Freshman Talent Show (1)

    <h4>Chapter 129: The Freshman Talent Show (1)</h4>

    Vikir walked into the lecture hall in search of ss B of the Cold ss.

    Arge group of people were gathered in a circle, drinking, and in the center of the room, one by one, the new students came forward to perform a talent show.

    As Vikir walked into the ssroom, he heard a weing voice right by the door.

    "Vikir, you''re back! Why are you sote?"

    It was his roommate, Piggy.

    Piggy was so happy to see him that he rummaged through a box on the table and pulled out a nametag that read, "''Vikir, ss 20��".

    "It''s my job to hand out name tags to everyone whoes in. Here''s yours!"

    "... Why are you doing this job?"

    Handing out nametags to neers is usually the job of the second-year seniors.

    Since Piggy is also a neer, why is he doing the chore of handing out name tags to his ssmates?

    Vikir wondered.

    Then Piggy smiled wryly.

    "Oh, the seniors said it''s a hassle to keep track of all the name tags, so they asked me to help out a little."

    Vikir''s head snapped up at that.

    Sure enough, several of the sophomores who had deferred to Piggy had mingled with the crowd, watching the neers'' talent show.

    "Whoa! Tudor is awesome! Encore!"

    "Swoon! Cold ss! Go Tudors!"

    "You''re the best, Tudor! My sister''s already a fan, eek!"

    A pretty tough bunch, even for sophomores.

    To get to know the neers who seemed to be doing well, they had already assigned chores to Piggy, who didn''t seem to have any ability or backbone, so I thought they were definitely quick to understand.

    Meanwhile.

    In the center of the stage, the neers who havepleted the talent show are seated in rows on one side of a long table.

    On the other side of the table are a few professors, teaching assistants, and seniors.

    The seniors are few and far between, as they are preparing to enter the workforce.

    St. Dolores, the student council president, was making the rounds to each ss, stopping to check on the remaining juniors.

    "The president is here!"

    "Saint, I would be honored if you would ept my cup!"

    "Sister, you''re here to write an article for the Cold s''s senior and junior reunion, right? Please take care of the article!"

    "I love you president! Kyaaak!"

    Dolores was a hit with everyone; she was the center of attention.

    At this point, the sophomore emcee grabs the mana-filled megaphone and makes ament.

    "Yes, it''s time for the next talent show, and the one everyone''s been waiting for, the Super Rookie of ss 20, Ms. Usher Bianca, please join us!"

    Thunderous apuse erupted.

    Then, with all eyes on her, Bianca stepped forward.

    Herplexion was calm, as if she had just received a rooftop confession.

    However, her breathing was slightly uneven, as if she had rushed down from the rooftop.

    She then bowed her head in front of the seniors.

    "I, a junior who iscking in many ways, dare to raise a drink to you seniors."

    Bianca nonchntly picked up the bottle and popped the cap.

    And then.

    Pow! Pow! Pow! Pow! Pow!

    She grabbed the bottle and gave it a quick shake, sending the liquor flying through the narrow neck.

    In the space of a single sip, it flew a long way, over the heads of the people in front of her, andnded precisely in the sses on the table behind her.

    Clink, clink, clink, clink!

    The seniors let out a collective exmation of admiration at this strange trick of throwing liquor from several meters away and filling the sses.

    Bianca kept the mood high for a short but intense moment, then bowed her head.

    Then she turned back to the crowd and thought to herself.

    "Whoever this is, they''re going to have a hard time with the next one.''

    Bianca''s stunt, while entertaining, didn''t really deserve the cheers it received.

    The outpouring of support was probably due to her background, abilities, and appearance.

    So unless a neeres along and does something amazing to match Bianca''s background, abilities, and appearance, it''s going to be hard to keep the momentum going.

    In other words, having set the tone, the next neer is going to be under a lot of pressure.

    ''Well, it''s none of my business.''

    Bianca returned to her seat, deciding that there was no reason to be considerate of the motives of those behind her.

    And then, in a cruel twist of nature. The host called for the next act in the talent show.

    "Okay, we''ve got our highly anticipated super-rookie, Ms. Bianca, and we''ve seen her pouring skills! What are we going to do about this heated atmosphere? We need our next performer before it cools down!"

    The host immediately called out the next name.

    "Next! New student from ss 20! Mr. Piggy, the cutest little guy!"

    Piggy''s name was called.

    Then Piggy, who was handing out nametags at the back of the crowd, stiffened.

    "Uh, uh, uh, I thought you said you''d let me out of the talent show if I volunteered to hand out these name tags...?"

    As Piggy turned his head in embarrassment, the sophomores who had been handing out name tags to Piggy giggled and turned their heads away.

    Turning away.

    Piggy looked up in disbelief.

    The host continues to gesture toward Piggy, who remains oblivious.

    "What are you going to do about this atmosphere, we can''t let it cool down like this, hurry up!"

    Piggy felt his head go nk.

    His vision goes white and his hands and feet shake.

    A cold sweat broke out at the crown of his head as he felt all eyes on him.

    "Piggy? Piggy, what are you doing? Come on out!"

    The host kept calling for Piggy.

    Then, one by one, the seniors who were apuding also shook their heads, their smiles disappearing.

    "Aah....

    Piggy despaired.

    His timid and introverted personality made it difficult for him to talk to others eye-to-eye, and he couldn''t imagine performing in front of such arge crowd.

    Piggy''s hobbies and interests include reading, listening to music, drawing, and having pets.

    These are not the kinds of things that will help you get up in front of a crowd.

    It would have been one thing if I''d been prepared from the start, but the fact that I was caught off guard by the promise of exclusion made it all the more confusing.

    ''Uh, what do I do? What do I do....''

    I''m breaking out in a cold sweat and my legs are shaking. I want to run away right now, but my legs are stiff and I can''t get off.

    "...."

    The room was getting quieter and quieter.

    Even the hosts who were makingments looked awkward and stiff.

    The seniors around me also looked confused.

    Just then.

    ...Jaw!

    A hand gripped Piggy''s shoulder.

    "We''ll do the talent show together, we''re roommates."

    A low, gravelly voice from behind.

    A boy with bushy bangs and thick horn-rimmed sses covering his face stepped forward.

    It was Vikir.

    "Oooh, who''s who, Vikir from ss 20? s, you werete for roll call earlier!"

    The host broke the awkward silence and greeted Vikir with a smile.

    "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I usually don''t do that, but I''ll make a special exception this time! You''re roommates, and you''re going to have to live with Miu and Kouga for a year, so why don''t you be nice and show us your talent!"

    Many eyes now turned to Piggy and Vikir.

    "Vikir...."

    Piggy looks up at Vikir with a questioning gaze.

    Vikir simply blurted out in a nonchnt tone.

    "I''ll sing."

    "...?"

    "You shall dance."

    Then Piggy threw another tantrum.

    "Me, are you serious? Well, of course I''m tone-deaf, but... ... ."

    "It''s okay. Anyone can do it."

    Vikir shook his fist at Piggy, first from top to bottom, then from bottom to top.

    It was a simple dance, really, requiring only that he repeat the motion and stomp his right foot each time his fist came down.

    "Uh, uh, uh... can you make this work?"

    "That''s enough. Just make it hard, and make sure you bow."

    Vikir grabbed Piggy by the shoulders and led him to the center of the crowd.

    Then, as everyone watched, Vikir''s song and Piggy''s dance began.

    ...?

    The gazes of the hosts and seniors became slightly subtle.

    Surprised, yes, but not with admiration....

    "What is this?

    They all looked confused, unable to grasp the situation.

    He was right, the song Vikir was singing was apletely different kind of song from what the neers had been singing.

    "High mountains, deep valleys, deserted mountains, snowy fronts, here wee."

    A military song.

    The kind of songs they used to sing on the front lines.

    Vikir didn''t have any particr talent to get the crowd going.

    He''d spent his entire life wandering the battlefields of the Nine Rivers without the luxury of hearing a single popr song.

    ...But only one thing.

    He knew one song that could move anyone, that could make anyone shudder, that anyone could rte to.

    In those days, when the bodies piled up into mountains and the blood flowed into rivers.

    ''The Age of Destruction.''

    A song that could be sung by anyone who had ever held a sword and fought a demon.

    It was a war song that was shared and enjoyed by all.

    "The spot where a young soul died. The wounded old pine forgot his words."

    A monotonous shaking of fists and stomping of feet.

    But the thrill, the emotion, the heart and soul of those days when thousands, tens of thousands, hundreds of millions of people rolled and cried and sang together.

    Vikir scanned the faces of his seniors and ssmates gathered in the academy.

    Brothers who had died in long wars, oldrades who had stood shoulder to shoulder guarding the borders, brothers who had shed tears of blood for him, even to the point of being falsely used and executed, still sat there, green and young and frail.

    Vikir looked at them and swallowed back the bitterness and longing.

    "Do you hear,rade, that angry voice?"

    A hound from an age of destruction, understood by none.

    Can you see it,rade, the tearful eyes.

    And with that, Vikir finished thest verse of the song.

    When he was finished, Vikir gave a respectful salute.

    He turned around, gave a quick bow, and disappeared into the crowd.

    ....

    There was a strange feeling in the air that was hard to describe.

    The excitement was definitely dampened, but not in a bad way.

    One way or another, Vikir''s song had left a mark on everyone''s hearts.

    "What, what''s with this creeping vibe?"

    "Are you an old man? What are you doing all of a sudden?"

    "What''s with this atmosphere~"

    Most of the peopleining about the dampened excitement were younger students.

    However.

    The atmosphere in the hall slowly began to change.

    "...oh."

    The old professors sitting in the front row suddenly burst into tears.

 Chapter 130: The Freshman Talent Show (2)

    <h4>Chapter 130: The Freshman Talent Show (2)</h4>

    High mountains, deep valleys, deserted mountains. Snowy fronts, we go.

    The spot where a young soul died. The wounded old pine forgot his words.

    Do you hear,rade, that angry voice?

    Can you see it,rade, the tearful eyes.

    -From the military song ��Going to the Front��-

    * * *

    As the ages of the audience changed, so did the evaluations.

    Older professors who had previouslyughed at the neers'' talent show as a child''s game began to speak seriously.

    "... I''ve never heard a military song that touched my heart so deeply. It''s as if you can read my soul."

    "It reminds me of thest front, fifty years ago, just before the empire was united, and so many of us died, Lieutenant Bigfresher, Sergeant Wisehawk, Corporal Upham, and Private Ryan, far from home... I miss you."

    "Oldrades, I''m sorry I''m the only one left standing, I''m sorry, I''m sorry, I hope you don''t hate me for living up to your share...."

    The old professors, who were veterans who had spent half their lives on the battlefield, began to tear up.

    And the young professors and teaching assistants who had been through a war, big or small, were also wetting their chests with alcohol.

    The old soldier read the waves of emotion in the old soldier''s crude song and resonated with them.

    It was a fine song, filled with a heavy sadness that the young pups couldn''t understand.

    ...Do they know?

    Just before. That a far-off sessor who crossed the axis of time held a ceremony for themselves who were once senior or superior.

    Meanwhile.

    Tudor and Sancho, who had been forced to share a room, were scratching their heads at the sight of such a Vikir.

    "Why is he singing a war song like an old man? Hey, Sancho, I thought you said you were a mercenary. Have you ever heard a war song like that before?"

    "It''s a war song that doesn''t exist in the north. It''s so good, I''d like to learn it."

    "Do you have a veteran in your family? He must be the same age as us. Oh, and by the way, was he the top scorer in the written exam this time?"

    "Hmmm. That''s pretty ambitious for a nerdy kid. I can''t believe he''s thinking about singing a military song at the talent show."

    It seemed that the young prospective heroes were not yet able to sympathize with the sentiment of military songs.

    Then. Tudor and Sancho''s conversation was interrupted.

    "Hi. Excuse me, are you a Cold ss, and if so, do you recognize the man who just sang the military song?"

    A pretty girl with short cropped white hair.

    Sinir''s interest was piqued as she walked down the hallway from the Hot ss.

    "Uh, no. We''re in different ss. I don''t know him. Why?"

    Tudor and Sancho shook their heads, and Sinir watched Vikir and Piggy disappear into the distance with a twinkle in her eye.

    She had actually been watching them earlier.

    The way Piggy had twitched nervously at the sound of his name being called, and the clumsy hand on his shoulder.

    "...just."

    At this, Sinir nodded with a faint smile.

    "He seems like a nice guy, I just wanted to get to know him."

    * * *

    Vikir finished the talent show and returned to the bar.

    Several of the older professors came over and spoke to him before he had even sat down at the bar.

    "Is your father a soldier? I''ve never heard of a military song before. Is it from your old country?"

    "...What, you wrote the song yourself, no way, such a great song!"

    "Our Royal Academy often holds apetition for military songs. You must enter!"

    "You. Why don''t you take my songwriting ss as a liberal arts elective?"

    Vikir was somewhat embarrassed, but he didn''t decline the professors''s offer.

    How could he refuse a drink from a gray-haired old professor who had once been hismanding officer, a senior officer who had taken a sword to the heart so many times on his behalf as a rookie officer..., a man who had gone into enemy territory in short order to save his men and died in the line of duty, and whose face was young and vibrant.

    The Academy is a gathering ce for heroes past, present, and future, so it''s no surprise that he''s met quite a few people from his past life.

    Vikir drank all that was offered and returned to his seat.

    The moment.

    "...!"

    Vikir turned to go back to his seat and paused.

    Bianca. The Usher family prodigy, the only child, the only daughter, was standing in Vikir''s way.

    Vikir silently pushed past her to get to his seat.

    The moment.

    Bianca turned her head toward Vikir.

    "The rooftop."

    "...."

    "Smells like rum."

    "...."

    Vikir considered stopping and turning around, but didn''t.

    Tsk-tsk-tsk-tsk-tsk.

    Vikir continued on his way, as if he didn''t realize he was being spoken to.

    Bianca smelled the familiar rum on his breath.

    It was the same rum she''d smelled after the rooftop chase earlier.

    No matter how fast she ran, she could never close the distance between them.

    Despite running as hard as she could, Bianca had failed to uncover the identity of the man.

    She''d never lost a race before, but she''d never been so overwhelmingly defeated that she couldn''t keep up.

    Bianca frowned and called out to Vikir.

    "Hey, wait, you were definitely on the roof earlier...."

    But Bianca couldn''t finish her sentence.

    "Here we go, newbies! Cheers!"

    "Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink!"

    "The liquor''s going in, chug-chug-chug-chug!"

    A few drunken seniors clinked their sses together with a loud noise, blocking Bianca''s view.

    Clink- clink- clink- clink- clink- clink- clink- clink.

    sses clink in front of her, sshing droplets of alcohol.

    Among the many sses in Bianca''s path was a ss of rum.

    "...Hold on, I''ll pass!"

    Bianca pushed her way through the crowd, brushing aside the arms of her seniors and ssmates.

    But.

    Once the toasts were over and the sses were gone, Vikir was nowhere to be found.

    "Where did he go...!?"

    Bianca looked around, but couldn''t find him in the crowd.

    She stopped in her tracks to follow him.

    Come to think of it, there''s a lot of rum here now. It smells strong, too.

    She couldn''t say for sure if this was the same smell she''d smelled on the roof.

    ''Am I mistaken?''

    Bianca frowned slightly.

    The bitter rum scent that had seemed to emanate from Vikir was nowpletely gone.

    Instead, her sense of smell was numbed by the other crude alcoholic odors wafting around them.

    At this point, she wondered, had she really smelled rum on the rooftop earlier? She wondered.

    Maybe the whole charade was a sham.

    ''... Yeah. It must be the mood.''

    Bianca turned her attention away from Vikir.

    Where was the strength and speed to outrun him, she wondered?

    There was no reason to pay any attention to him just because he sang a military song she couldn''t rte to and didn''t know where it came from.

    Meanwhile.

    Vikir stood in the opposite direction from where Bianca''s gaze rested.

    ''You''ve got good instincts.''

    The rum on his breath must have been picked up when he subdued the mercenaries outside the academy.

    Luckily, there were plenty of drunken seniors and ssmates around to hide the scent.

    He looked up and saw Bianca in the distance, looking around, then giving up and walking away.

    ''I shouldn''t dismiss them as just kids, I''ll have to be more careful in the future.''

    Baskerville of the sword, Morg of magic, Quovadis of divinity, Don Quixote of the spear, Usher of the bow, Leviathan of poison, Bourgeois of money.

    Even if they''re just one-day puppies, they''re descended from seven great families.

    He would have to be more careful.

    Vikir breathed a sigh of relief.

    ...just then.

    Avoiding Bianca''s gaze, Vikir found one more pair of eyes still lingering on him.

    St. Dolores, the Academy''s student council president and head of the newspaper club.

    She was ring at Vikir.

    ''What is it? What is it? There''s something familiar about his aura?''

    Dolores was scratching her head, trying to figure out what she was thinking.

    Vikir quickly pushed back his bangs and adjusted his sses.

    He locked the door to his mind firmly to prevent the saint from reading his soul, then blended into the crowd as harmlessly as possible.

    Fortunately, Dolores'' gaze lingered for a few more seconds before fading away.

    The old professors, including the department chair, had gotten his attention withpliments.

    Vikir moved out of the saint''s line of sight, doing his best to keep the Night Hound''s identity a secret.

    ''That''s enough of that. I must return to my dormitory.''

    It was getting close to the end of the night.

    A few drunken ssmates were being carried out of the dormitory building.

    Vikir thought he would take advantage of the atmosphere and go home a little early.

    ...However.

    Just as he was about to disappear from everyone''s sight, something caught his attention.

    "Hey, did you make a funny face at the talent show earlier?"

    "Is it nice to bury your roommate, are you a parasite?"

    "Dude, you should sing by yourself. Ah, you have to learn to do it alone!"

    "Bitter- senior told you to do it, why don''t you do it sooner?"

    "Guys~ Piggy is singing from now on~ Everyone listens up!"

    A ragtag group of second graders surrounded Piggy.

    Piggy was huping with embarrassment.

    "Stop, seniors. I''m not very good at anything, and I''m not very interesting, so I''m not going to... hic!"

    His face was red from the alcohol, and he was sulking.

    But the second graders were giggling andughing at him.

    "If you can''t do anything good, what''s the point of going to school? Why don''t you try dancing, you were so good at it earlier?"

    "All you could do was pump your fists and stomp your feet as if you weren''t good enough, hahaha!"

    "If you can''t do it, drink it! Here, finish this and I''ll let you off the hook! One shot if you''re a man!"

    "Guys, Piggy says he''s about to show you something, pay attention!"

    They giggle as if they''ve caught a toy that they can y with for years toe, a ball that they can do whatever they want with.

    Cruelty, harshness, ruthlessness, malice.

    There''s a lot of that kind of violence in the eyes of the sophomores as they look at Piggy.

    And then.

    Standing some distance away, Vikir is watching the second years with simr eyes.

    The only difference is.

    "...."

    Vikir is not smiling.

 Chapter 131: The Freshman Talent Show (3)

    <h4>Chapter 131: The Freshman Talent Show (3)</h4>

    The sophomores surround Piggy and boo him.

    "This time it''s Nagari, look forward to the next one."

    "If the next one is also Nagari~ pull out all your teeth~"

    "One beat off! Two beats off! Three beats off! One, two, three, four!"

    "Hurry up and do something, brother, thedies are bored!"

    This group of six, three men and three women, continued to harass Piggy.

    Naturally, Piggy was too timid to say anything, so he just stood there with tears streaming down his face.

    Then the girls giggled.

    "What is it, is he crying?"

    "Oh, my God, poor thing."

    "You''re so mean! Why are you picking on him!"

    The boys giggle and retort.

    "When did we bully you?"

    "It''s all about getting to know you, we''ll be seeing you for a long time."

    "Dude, why are you crying and XX, are you trying to make us look bad?"

    Just then, a girl tapped Piggy on the shoulder.

    "Dude. Stop crying. Get a drink."

    At the same time, arge ss began to fill with liquor.

    gulp gulp gulp gulp...

    A vile bomb of fermented and distilled liquor.

    One drink and it was clear that his head would crack the next day.

    The schoolboy looked into Piggy''s face and grinned.

    "One shot, and we''ll let you off the hook."

    The six of them surround Piggy and giggle.

    They weren''t going to let him go until he finished his drink.

    Eventually, Piggy started drinking with a sullen face.

    The result came less than two sipster.

    "Ew!"

    Piggy gagged and spit out the contents.

    Since he hadn''t eaten any appetizers, the vomit consisted mostly of alcohol and gastric juices.

    Meanwhile, the rest of the team freaked out when they saw Piggy throw up.

    "Yuck! That''s so gross! It''s all over your tights!"

    "Wahahahaha, you''re puking, you''ve been so colorful since OT!"

    "From now on, your nickname will be Puke! Puking Piggy!"

    "I''ll call you Puke until I graduate!"

    Gazes snapped to attention. The murmuring around them made Piggy cower even more.

    Then.

    A flutter.

    Something covered the top of Piggy''s vomit on the floor.

    It was Vikir''s cloak.

    A cloak given to new students.

    Embroidered with the Academy''s logo, it was so symbolic that neers treasured it next to their lives.

    Vikir took it off and covered the vomit on the floor.

    Then he walked to the front of the group of dazed second years and pped Piggy on the back.

    "Go to your dorms. I''ll clean up here."

    "...."

    Piggy looked at Vikir with a shaky gaze, but Vikir merely wiped the floor with his cloak in silence.

    Then.

    "Hey. You."

    The sophomore grabbed Vikir by the shoulders, his face crumpled.

    "Are you crazy, hanging up on a senior when they''re talking to him?"

    "What are you doing with that cloak, and how dare you think you know what kind of cloak it is...."

    "You bastard, are you this guy''s coworker, you''re in ss B of the Cold ss, what''s your name, take off your bangs and show me your face."

    The atmosphere was bing even more tumultuous.

    Several members of the group patted Bikir''s sses and cheeks, giggling.

    "You must be pretty confident,ing out like this."

    "Dude, your friend left you some leftovers, you should finish them."

    "This is Piggy''s ss, and if you finish it, I''ll let you and Piggy go."

    "You''re his friend, you''re going to drink it for him, don''t you think he''ll just leave? Show some loyalty!"

    The men dangledrge sses in front of Vikir''s eyes.

    A bomb of vodka, rum, pulque, and more.

    Piggy had only taken two sips, so at first nce it looked like more than a liter, and it was sloshing around the edge of the ss.

    It would be impossible for a human to drink this.

    But.

    "...."

    Vikir picked up the ss without another word.

    And then.

    Gulp- gulp- gulp- gulp- gulp.

    Without a single change in expression, he emptied the ss.

    Children in Baskerville always take a small amount of poison with their meals. To build up their tolerance.

    They can''t get drunk on a mission, so a tolerance to alcohol is also essential, along with a naturally strong liver.

    Vikir has seen his fair share of drinking in his previous life, even amongst the toughest of men.

    "...."

    Vikir downed a full liter of the bombshell too easily, then mmed the ss down on the table.

    Then he walked away as if nothing had happened.

    As he walks away, the crew stumbles to their feet and tries to follow.

    "Hey. What''s all the fuss over there? Did someone throw up?"

    Student Council President Dolores, who was walking back to the Hot ss, called out to them.

    "Ah, ah, ah, one of the neers threw up."

    "We''ll clean it up!"

    "It''s no big deal!"

    Dolores can only shake her head in response to the awkward smiles of the first-year students.

    "You guys, you can''t be harsh on the new students. Protect the dignity of the Academy''s upperssmen. Do you understand?"

    "Yes, of course!"

    "...Good."

    The saintess nced at the sophomores, then turned and walked back the way she came.

    The sophomores looked up, but Piggy and Vikir had already disappeared.

    "Man, these assholes just ran off."

    "I''ve never seen an asshole wipe someone else''s vomit with amemorative cloak in my life."

    "Yeah. Maybe they''remoner assholes or don''t realize the value of this logo?"

    "I''ll find themter, and I''ll beat them both half to death."

    "Oh, how are you going to do that? You do realize that dueling is forbidden without an upperssman initiate of at least two grades, right?"

    "Well, we could just beat them t at a sporting event or something."

    The sophomores walked away, each muttering a few words.

    Each one of them grumbled a few words, thinking about how they would harass the two juniors who had been caught today.

    * * *

    A few hourster.

    "Man, you''re drunk. We should go out and get some ice cream."

    The sophomore ss had gotten quite a bit drunk.

    They left the lecture hall where the drinking was going on and strolled for a while toward the shopping district outside the Academy''s walls.

    "It''s a bit far, but the ice cream is always better outside."

    The group of sophomores giggled and walked out the Academy''s back door and into the shopping district.

    In the alleyways, small festivals were taking ce alongside the academy''s otis.

    The sophomores made their way down the street to the various food vendors.

    ...No. I tried to move it.

    Boom!

    Until one of them was grabbed by a hand that shot out of a narrow back alley in the dark night.

    "Whoa! Eup!?"

    The first boy to be grabbed looked up, startled.

    A dark shadow loomed eerily in front of him.

    A ck leather glove wrapped around his face, and an unyielding grip.

    Beneath a wide-brimmed ck hat, a stork''s-bill mask, with a pestilential aura.

    His eyes bore into those of an unseeing monster.

    Puck! Woof!

    The next moment, he was hit by a flying fist and mmed against the wall.

    He didn''t even have time to raise his mana.

    The monster''s fists were fast and strong.

    One hit had already shattered his nose and teeth, sending him sprawling on the ground.

    Puck-puck-puck-puck-puck-puck!

    The same fate befell the other five.

    Dragged into the mud of the back alley, the six sophomores looked up in disbelief.

    Night Hounds.

    An existence that looked like a hell beast was staring down at them, looking like it would pounce and bite them all to death at any moment.

    Pfft.

    The jaws of the first one to be captured snapped back.

    Teeth broke through the back of his head, and then through his cheek.

    His nose was broken into three pieces and twisted into a zigzag.

    His cheekbones were sunken and hanging down, and blood was leaking from every hole in his face.

    The bravest of them all opened his mouth.

    "uhh, do yu knw wh I m?!"

    It was a ssic "do you know who I am?" threat.

    Vikir, in Night Hound mode, nodded once.

    Then he let out a mana-modted growl that sounded like a hoarse old dog growling.

    "I know, I know."

    The second-year students were stunned twice, once by the eerie sound of the Night Hound''s voice, and again by the fact that he knew who they were and had done this to them.

    The Night Hound continued.

    "From right to left, Uspear, Realbelt, Yellowlove, Acme, Redmin, and Southmid. They are sophomores in ss B of the Cold ss, scions of House Pal, House Vetri, House Housings, House Seaweed, House Bison, and House Euler, respectively. Their parents are Baron Oppenheimer, Baron Munich, Viscount Osburn, Count Germa, Lord Upham, and Lord Dowsing."

    As the names, houses, locations, and even the names of their parentse out, the faces of the sophomores turn pale.

    And then. The Night Hound thrusts a sharpened dagger in front of their eyes.

    "Uhhhh...."

    The second-year students shook their heads in horror, but they could not escape the firm grip on their jaws and the slow draw of the dagger across their foreheads.

    The de, with its ominous aura, left a festering scar on their foreheads.

    X

    A mark like a bull''s-eye.

    It was both a symbol for a target and a stigma that would not be erased for years toe.

    "Make a nuisance of yourself inside the Academy one more time."

    The Night Hound had warned them sharply as they paced, blood dripping from their foreheads.

    "Then I will kill not only you, but your father and mother, and your family."

 Chapter 132: Test Your Skills (1)

    <h4>Chapter 132: Test Your Skills (1)</h4>

    At six in the morning, the wake-up bell rings in every dormitory at Colosseo Academy.

    All students, boys and girls alike, gather on the field in front of their dormitories and begin their morning routine with gymnastics.

    After about 30 minutes of gymnastics, everyone goes their separate ways to eat breakfast, take a shower, or catch up on sleep.

    At 8:00, all students head to the lecture hall, unless they have something else going on.

    Depending on the day, students with no sses or sses that didn''t require attendance could use the gym, library, theater, or other cultural facilities.

    Vikir and Piggy nned to finish gymnastics that morning and then go to the lecture hall after eating.

    Then.

    Piggy was on his way back from gymnastics when he ran into some patientsing out of the infirmary.

    They were the same sophomores who had harassed her in OT yesterday.

    "...what?"

    Piggy froze in ce, and the six sophomores froze as well.

    And then?

    "Hee hee!"

    All six of them scurry away from Piggy.

    "...?"

    Piggy flinched, then turned to look at the seniors who were dodging him, and gave them a puzzled nce.

    "Why are you all running away?"

    "...."

    Vikir looked at Piggy''s bewildered expression and the backs of the scurrying sophomores.

    Suddenly, the events ofst night came flooding back.

    ''Try being a nuisance in the academy one more time. I will not only kill you, but also your father and mother and your family.''

    ''....''

    ''If one day you suddenly hear that your entire family has been wiped out..., consider it your own doing.''

    ''....''

    ''If you offend one of them, expect the rest of your kind to suffer.''

    Last night, Vikir had nearly beaten the second years to a bloody pulp.

    ''... If you''re willing to go to such lengths to bully someone, you must be a real heartthrob.''

    But they don''t have the balls to do that.

    Someone with that kind of ego wouldn''t take pleasure in picking on people who are weaker than them.

    They disappeared, leaving everyone around to stare at them as if they''d harassed many people before.

    Vikir smiled bitterly.

    In hisst life, Piggy had dropped out of school because he couldn''t stand the bullying, and he''d made a hard living as a low-level government employee.

    His parents had gone into debt to send him to the Academy.

    Then, when the Age of Destruction began and the Great War with the demons began, Piggy volunteered to go to the front lines, where he contributed greatly to the Allied Forces of Humanity by implementing numerous supply strategies and analyzing and gathering intelligence.

    Then, just a few months into the war, Piggy was assassinated.

    Vikir still remembers the devastated look on his parents'' faces when they saw their son''s cold, dead body.

    ''He was an honorablerade-in-arms.''

    Vikir nced at Piggy, who was yawning next to him.

    He hoped that in this life, hisrade-in-arms would not have such a tragic life.

    Then.

    Vikir and Piggy were just about to enter their joint general education ssroom in the center of the lecture hall when someone stopped them.

    "Stop. Wait."

    The person who stopped them had a familiar face and voice.

    St. Dolores Rune Quovadis. The third-year student council president stood with a stern look on her face.

    "The center staircase here is for professors only. Students are not allowed to use it, so from now on, only use the stairs in the left or right hallways."

    "Yes. I understand."

    "And. I''m going to have to give you demerit points for walking in a restricted area, both of you, minus one demerit point. Please state your names, ss, and grades."

    The saintess was stern.

    Vikir and Piggy both received demerits.

    This is recorded on the enchanted scoreboard, which is updated in real time.

    Then.

    Dolores frowned for a moment as she looked at the demerit list.

    "Vikir. What did you do to earn so many demerits already?"

    Dolores looked up in surprise to see that Vikir had umted quite a few demerits since the first day of school.

    He had already gotten demerits for the same thing a few times now for wandering into the restricted areas of the dormitory and lecture halls, as well as other buildings.

    ''It''s a necessity to familiarize myself with the Academy''s topography.''

    In order to transform into a night hound and go on a night hunt, you need to find a lot of openings that lead outside.

    But Dolores, unaware of this, just sees Vikir as azy, bad student.

    "You know that umting too many demerits, no matter how many attitude points you have, will hurt your grades. In some cases, you may have to miss lectures and domunity service outside the school. It will also affect the image of the ss, so try to be more diligent and careful in the future. Do you understand?"

    "Understood."

    Vikir replied in a businesslike manner.

    He was trying to sound as normal as possible, but it made Dolores and Piggy jump.

    "Vii, Vikir... don''t just answer like that!"

    "...?"

    Piggy punched Vikir in the side of the head.

    When Vikir looked at him with a puzzled expression, Piggy sighed lightly and bowed ny degrees to Dolores.

    "I apologize, senior, I''ll be more careful!"

    "...what. All right, we''ll see."

    Dolores nodded.

    He nced back at Vikir once more with a frown, and then disappeared down the hall.

    "Uh-oh-isn''t this going to get us caught?"

    Unlike Piggy, who was running his hands through his bushy hair in agony, Vikir

    Then.

    The window of the lecture hall opened and someone spoke in a fluent tone towards them.

    Es misi��n del verdadero caballero. Su deber. ?No! Su deber no. Su privilegio.

    -It is the mission and duty of a true knight. No! It is not a duty, but a privilege.

    So?ar lo imposible so?ar.

    -To dream the impossible dream.

    Vencer al invicto rival,

    -To defeat the invincible enemy,

    Sufrir el dolor insufrible,

    -To endure the unbearable pain,

    Morir por un noble ideal.

    -To die for a noble ideal.

    Saber enmendar el error,

    -To know how to fix the wrong,

    Amar con pureza y bondad.

    -To love with purity and good will.

    Querer, en un sue?o imposible,

    -Falling in love in an impossible dream,

    Con fe, una estre alcanzar.

    -To have faith, to reach for a star.

    A romantic poem straight out of chivalric literature.

    The speaker was a nobleman with beautiful blond hair and blue eyes.

    Don Quixote Tudor. a top member of the Cold ss.

    Strength to strength, intelligence to intelligence, good looks to good looks, toughness to toughness.

    The perfect man, with nothing missing.

    He leaned against the window and winked at Vikir.

    "You''ve been spotted by the student council president since the first day of school, my friends. You''d better be a little more punctual in the future, I hear this student council president is very strict about tardiness."

    Just then, a cold sneeres from the side.

    A female student with long raw hair tied back in a tight bun spoke up after Tudor.

    "I don''t care if you get detention or forcedmunity service for beingte, don''t ruin the image of the entire Cold ss. Apparently, there''s such a thing as a group attitude score."

    This was Usher Bianca, a top member of the Cold ss.

    As Tudor and Bianca each said something to Vikir, the front door of the ssroom opened and a girl with disheveled gray hair and a short skirt stepped out.

    "A~ What''s wrong with you both~ Friends shouldn''t be arguing with each other on the first day of school! Over there... are you Vikir and Pig, right? Come on in, you two, your seats are in the window row on the right!"

    The girl gesturing to Vikir was Sinir, the overall top student in the prefect''s ss and head of the joint general education ss.

    She had memorized the name, and she called Vikir by her first name.

    Piggy was equally impressed that Sinir had memorized his name and called him by it.

    Even if she did spell his name slightly wrong.

    * * *

    ss began.

    General Studies, a ss that all Hot-ss students and all Cold-ss students were required to take.

    It''s a theory ss where we study the ecology and culture of monsters and barbarians.

    Many students are intimidated by the difficulty of the course and either take notes frantically or give up altogether.

    Some freshmen were intimidated by the notorious difficulty that their seniors had warned them about and chose to drop out.

    And.

    Tudor and Bianca, co-leaders of Cold ss, red at each other.

    "You know how I cut it off at the seams when I was talking to my tardy friends earlier? Don''t do that in the future."

    "It''s my business, and I need to be told off when I see something pathetic."

    "I don''t look kindly on tardiness either. But I don''t like to be interrupted. You should know that."

    "I know. Why do I need to know what you like and dislike? You''re an idiot."

    As co-leaders, the tension was already high.

    Is that why? Even in theory ss, Tudor and Bianca would listen to lectures with their eyes glowing, trying to outsmart each other.

    Also. They had one moremon enemy besides each other.

    Sinir, the head of the Hot ss, smirked at Tudor and Bianca, who were ring at her.

    She was so well versed in theory that she was ranked second in the ss, not only in practice but also in writing.

    So in addition to keeping an eye on each other, Tudor and Bianca were also keeping an eye on Sinir.

    In other words, it was a battle of the hot and cold, and a battle within the cold.

    Then. The professor turned to all the students and asked a sudden, out-of-the-blue question.

    " ... In this way. We''ve finished our general lecture on the culture of the barbarian tribe, the Bk. Now it''s time to test how well you''ve memorized and understood what I''ve taught you."

    The stern-looking professor adjusted his tiny sses on his hawkish nose.

    Then, in a dry, dry voice, he asked the question.

    "Based on the locations of the ces where the hunters of the Bk have been said to have been found, I want you to guess the location of their home base. It is of great military importance to know where the enemy is based on the ces where they have been engaged."

    This was a difficult question to answer without memorizing the culture of the Bk, their fighting style, and the geography of the locations where they had been spotted and their immediate surroundings.

    "...."

    There was a moment of silence in the room.

    There was no way any of the freshmen could answer this difficult question.

    After all, this was a question that even third-year students would struggle to answer.

    When no one answered the question, the professor took the roll call.

    "Who''s number one in the cold ss this year, Tudor. Is that you?"

    "What? Yes, yes, yes!"

    At first, Tudor is quick to answer.

    But with the professor''s re demanding an answer, he had none.

    "Well, first of all, the shes between the Bk and the Empire took ce at the 1st, 8th, and 75th Heights on the Western Front... to...."

    "The 1st, 8th, and 75th, is that all?"

    "That, that is...."

    When Tudor failed to answer, the professor clicked his tongue once.

    Then he turned his attention to the attendance book.

    "I see you''re the one in charge of this cold ss, Bianca. Would you like to answer the question?"

    "What? It''s, uh, it''s...."

    Bianca rolled her eyes.

    She was about to add what she knew to be flesh to what Tudor had said earlier.

    "The shes between the Bk and the Empire took ce on the western front, at heights 1, 7, 8, 75, and 207, and um... considering that these are all low basin terrain... perhaps the Bk''s main base is in the low ins...."

    "Wait. Are you sure that there are only 1, 7, 8, 75, and 207 heights, and are you sure that all those forts you just mentioned are all in basin terrain?"

    "That''s, that''s, that''s, that''s...."

    Bianca stammered, as did Tudor.

    The professor clicks his tongue again.

    He turned to the attendance book and called out the next name.

    "Sinir, you''re the head of the Hot sss this term, aren''t you?"

    "Yes, .... Professor."

    Sinir nodded, trying to sound calm.

    Her expression, however, was lightly set with tension.

    The professor looked at the attendance book and nodded, then raised his gaze to Sinir and nodded once more.

    Her cue to answer.

    Sinir took a light breath and opened his mouth.

    "ording to what the military has published to the academicmunity, the locations of the shes between the Bk and the Empire are the 1st, 4th, 5th, 7th, 8th, 30th, 75th, and 207th heights on the Western Front. All of these locations are basin terrain, with the exception of the 8th, which is atop a high mountain peak. Taken together, this suggests that Bk''s home base is likely to be in a low-lying area, deep in the jungle, along the lines of the map."

    It was a neat exnation. It was also the best theory that fit the academic literature so far.

    The stern professor nodded in agreement.

    "This year, I''m going to add 10 points to your attitude score, Sinir, and 1 point to the overall attitude score of the ss."

    The faces of all the hot students brightened at that.

    The faces of all the cold students crumpled.

    Tudor and Bianca could do nothing but grunt and groan.

    Just then.

    The professor''s already furrowed brow furrowed once more.

    He spoke up, sounding slightly offended.

    "...No, I don''t think it''s the hot ss that''s outstanding, it''s the cold ss that''s terrible, judging from that pathetic sight."

    The cold ss students were stunned.

    All of the students in both the hot and cold sses turned their heads to follow the professor''s gaze.

    It was a seat by the window on the right side of the lecture hall. It was in the back, just below where the curtains fluttered in the wind.

    A boy with bushy hair that covered his face and thick horn-rimmed sses dozed with his arms crossed.

    It was Vikir.

 Chapter 133: Test Your Skills (2)

    <h4>Chapter 133: Test Your Skills (2)</h4>

    judging by that pathetic sight."

    Professor Banshee is a man who takes unusually strong pride in his ss.

    The cold anger in his voice, and the tant disparagement in his intentions, had all the students in both Hot and Cold sses on edge.

    "There was a reason why the Hot ss seniors gave out ''ice that doesn''t melt well'' made with magic. I keep putting it on the nape of my neck so I don''t feel sleepy."

    "Wow, I''m jealous. They used to hand out little metal sticks, and when you get sleepy, you poke your thigh with it."

    "By the way, that Vikir guy is in trouble. He''s going to get his ass handed to him by Professor Banshee on his first day."

    "Ugh, he''s screwed. I heard that professor gives you a group grade whether you do well or not."

    "He just gave Ms. Sinir 10 points for her attitude and 1 point for the entire Hot ss."

    "It would be nice to have a top student, Hot ss."

    "On the other hand, you''re doomed from the start, Cold ss. All because of one stupid troll."

    "How could you fall asleep at the beginning of ss? Even the most nervous idiot can''t...."

    The students look at Prof. Banshee and give a small bow amongst themselves.

    ...Not a single person stiffened.

    Except for Vikir.

    "...."

    The controversial Vikir is deep in thought, unaware of the attention being focused on him.

    ''Come to think of it, there was something off about all the guys I killed yesterday.''

    He recalled the twenty-nine faces he''d snuck outside the Academy to assassinate before attending the OTst night.

    Every single one of them had a distinctly demonic stench, and their ''faces'' had melted away upon death.

    It was the trait he most associated with the ninth of the Ten Corpses, the Nine Top Corpses, whom he was now pursuing.

    ''It''s most likely that ''he'' is involved, I''ll have Sindiwendi focus her investigation on him....''

    Vikir was making ns for the next demon hunt.

    "...Vii, Vikir. Vikir!"

    I feel Piggy poking me in the side, making me groggy.

    The first thing I see when I open my eyes is Piggy''s sullen expression and the fierce res of my fellow Cold ss.

    The first thing I saw was Professor Banshee''s angry face beyond the giggles of the Hot ss students.

    Then, with a crooked smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, Professor Banshee turned to Vikir.

    "Vikir of ss B of the Cold ss, I see from your detention record that you already have a bad attitude. How in the world did you ever get into the academy if you''ve been dozing off since the first day of ss?"

    Professor Banshee''s words brought sighs from the cold students and scoffs from the hot students.

    It''s clear that a single vikir will result in a deduction in the attitude score of the entire cold section, which will lead to a rtive advantage for the hot students.

    Then.

    Something happened that shocked the entire ss.

    "I wasn''t asleep."

    Vikir blurted out.

    "...?"

    For a moment, Professor Banshee doubted his ears.

    He hadn''t seen a freshman talk back to him in the twenty years since he''d been on the faculty.

    He''d seen plenty of students who cried or fussed over a point.

    No freshman had ever dared to argue with Professor Banshee''s waxen, pale expression and the grim aura of a warlock from Morg''s Dark Faction.

    Not even fourth-year undergraduates, not even graduate students, not even professors like him.

    So Professor Banshee checked his own ears to make sure they were functioning properly and asked Vikir once more.

    "You''re not asleep?"

    "No."

    "That''s ame excuse, even though everyone saw you with your eyes closed?"

    "My eyes were closed, but I wasn''t asleep."

    Then Professor Banshee''s expression turned harder and harder.

    At the same time, the faces of all the students were getting whiter and whiter.

    Professor Banshee''s smile grew even more crooked.

    Then he spoke again in a sarcastic voice.

    "I see, I must have misunderstood you, for you have branded a student who merely had his eyes closed as azy cker."

    "It''s okay. You may have misunderstood."

    "...."

    Vikir''s nonchnt response left his ssmates, and even Professor Banshee, speechless for a moment.

    For a moment, I thought, ''Did I really misunderstand?

    ...Poof!

    Professor Banshee closed his mouth, and a terrifying sound emanated from it.

    The sound of gnashing teeth made the students in the front of the room shrink their shoulders in unison.

    Anything thates out of a warlock''s mouth should be taken with a grain of salt, but that was before the problem.

    As if the temperature in the room had dropped a degree or so, Professor Banshee turned to Vikir and asked him his earlier question in a sharp tone.

    "Alright, if you weren''t dozing off, you''d be able to answer my question. I will do you a favor and remind you of the problem from earlier."

    Professor Banshee red at Vikir as if to say, "I''m going to repeat the problem from earlier."

    "If you have memorized and understood my lecture so far, this should be easy for you to answer: name the ces where the hunters of the barbarian tribe of Bk have engaged the armies of the Empire, and based on their locations, guess where their home base is."

    When he had finished, he nced from Sinir, who was fidgeting in the front seat, to Tudor and Bianca, who were seated side by side behind him.

    Professor Banshee red at Vikir.

    "Your ssmates gave me some not-so-bad answers earlier, and you don''t tell me that even those capable ofing up with their own answers have been taking my ss with their eyes wide open, and you, who aren''t even close to that level, have been taking my ss with your eyes closed? Now, I expect an answer."

    Professor Banshee left the lectern as if he had made up his mind and walked up to Vikir''s desk.

    It was his intention to take this opportunity to give the entire ss a steamer clearance by frantically gnashing his teeth on one of the durds.

    But.

    ''Oh, so this is the kind of problem the youngsters at the Academy solve.''

    Naturally, Vikir was not the least bit fazed, only amused.

    For Vikir, a war veteran with decades of battlefield wear and tear under his belt, these problems are easier than tying his shoces.

    The answers were imprinted in his flesh and bone, especially since his life depended on it.

    Naturally, the depth of the theory is much different than just a fountain pen on paper.

    However, Vikir was so familiar with the answers to these kinds of questions that he hadn''t realized that Professor Banshee had deliberately given them to the students as a stunt.

    So he made the mistake of answering the question over and over again.

    "The ces where the Bk and the Empire fought were the 1st, 4th, 5th, 7th, 8th, 14th, 27th, 30th, 75th, 207th, and 306th heights of the Western Front, many of which are incorrectly characterized as basin and peak terrain, but in fact most of the battles were fought in the winter, when the ice and snow umted and melted. The warriors of the Bk are characterized as ultra-long-range snipers and guerri warriors, easily traveling great distances and high terrain, while taming wolves for mobility on the ins, so their settlements are expected to follow the general characteristics of nomadic peoples, and based on their movements, it''s clear that they are located on high ground, deep within the jungle. Based on that map, I''d say the most likely location is the salt river to the west, between points A and B, and the waterfall area that borders the west coast."

    Even military secrets, things that hadn''t yet been reported to the academicmunity.

    "It doesn''t matter anyway, the natives of Bk have moved elsewhere since the Ahheman incident.

    Even if they did, no one could get there.

    Wild beasts, poisonous insects, dangerous nts, harsh terrain, and endemic diseases keep the Imperials out.

    So Vikir came up with an answer that would not offend the natives of Bk.

    ... but.

    Even as Vikir answered Professor Banshee''s question, the silence in the room remained unchanged.

    "?"

    Vikir finally turned his head.

    He looked up and saw a puzzling scene.

    ....

    Piggy next to him, Tudor and Bianca across from him, Sinir beyond him, and finally Professor Morg Banshee.

    Everyone in the ssroom, hot and cold, student and professor, was staring at Vikir with their mouths agape.

 Chapter 134: Test Your Skills (3)

    <h4>Chapter 134: Test Your Skills (3)</h4>

    Wide-open eyes. Half-open mouth.

    "...."

    Professor Morg Banshee wore an expression he hadn''t worn in years.

    If you didn''t know him, you might think he was a little surprised, but if you did, you''d have a different opinion.

    For Professor Banshee, who was so expressionless that he was often nicknamed "the wax figure," to be wearing this expression was an expression of sheer astonishment.

    Everyone in the room was stunned and speechless.

    Professor Banshee was the first to break the silence.

    "... Hmm. Correct."

    But then he added

    "However, your answer seems to contain a number of controversial and unreported points that have not yet been vetted by the academicmunity."

    To be sure, there were some things in Vikir''s answer that even Professor Banshee hadn''t heard before.

    But Professor Banshee didn''t think he could dismiss Vikir''s answers out of hand, because they were eerily urate.

    How does he know about the 14th and 27th battles, battles that no graduate student, let alone a professor, should have to learn and study in the first ce?

    And the Battle of the 306th Parallel is a historical fact that has only recently been discovered by academics and is just beginning to be studied.

    ''... Isn''t this the kind of information that only senior officers in the active Imperial Army, or even a member of the House of Baskerville, would know?''

    Professor Banshee swiped a hand across his forehead, finding it difficult to control his expression.

    In truth, the question was far beyond the ability of the freshmen to answer.

    Tudor and Bianca of the Cold ss could be called outstanding freshmen if they knew only the first, seventh, eighth, seventy-fifth, and twenty-seventh battles.

    Here, Sinir of the Hot ss was memorizing the battles of the 4th, 5th, and 30th heights, which was beyond the level of an undergraduate student.

    However, how was he supposed to exin this freshman in front of him?

    That''s where Professor Banshee''s confusiones in.

    "How do you know something that hasn''t been reported in the literature and why are you answering as if it''s true?"

    Prof. Banshee asked Vikir.

    Meanwhile, Vikir remained nonchnt.

    ''I can''t say I''ve lived it. It''s too much trouble.''

    When ites to enemies and the Bk of the ck Mountains, Vikir knows more than anyone. Perhaps no one in the Empire knows more about the Bk than Vikir.

    Vikir sidestepped Professor Banshee''s question with a good reason.

    "Recently, trade between barbarians on the Western Front and the Empire has begun. Many merchants are vying for trade. In the meantime, Do is just amon stock market slob. Sorry if I sounded assertive."

    Vikir took a step back, and even as Professor Banshee, it was hard to press him further.

    After all, he''d gotten more answers than he''d asked anyway.

    But the way Professor Banshee looked at Vikir was a little more intense.

    "...."

    The difference was that the intent in his gaze shifted from disdain to curiosity.

    "You''re quite interested in economics, aren''t you?"

    "It''s not that big of a deal, I''m just a little guy with a sensitive side."

    "How modest."

    Professor Banshee narrowed his eyes and studied Vikir''s face.

    He opened the attendance book and flipped through the pages, taking in the student''s personal details.

    After a moment, Professor Banshee salivated.

    ".... I see. Perfect score on the handwriting."

    Professor Banshee muttered under her breath, and the entire ssroom fell silent.

    "Oh, so that''s the one with the perfect handwriting?"

    "But he got a perfect score in handwriting, is that possible?"

    "The handwriting difficulty in the academy is really terrible."

    "It''s crazy, I was fourth overall in this handwriting, and I flunked it."

    Everyone looked at Vikir like they were looking at a monster.

    But there was one person who was most surprised.

    "... ... A perfect score?"

    The girl stares at Vikir with rabbit eyes.

    She was Sinir, the runner-up on the handwriting test.

    An honors student with a score of 931 out of 990.

    It was a long way from the 700s in third ce and the 500s in fourth.

    But just when she thought it was weird to be in second ce, Sinir got a little dazed when she heard the difference between her score and the first ce score.

    His opponent''s perfect score meant that he could have scored much more.

    He only scored 990 because the limit was 990, but no one knows where his skill lies.

    That''s what a perfect score is.

    Meanwhile. Professor Banshee looked away from Vikir.

    "Vikir. I''m going to give you 10 points for your excellent answer, but I can''t condone the fact that you had your eyes closed in my ss, so I''m going to deduct 10 points from your attitude again, and I''m also going to add one point to the attitude score of the entire Cold ss."

    Prof. Banshee then went back to teaching as usual.

    Vikir was able to move on quietly, with neither extra credit nor a penalty.

    The faces of the Cold ss students brightened.

    But that didn''t mean that their reaction to Vikir was particrly favorable.

    "What an arrogant bastard. You''re sleeping in ss just because you ace the written exam?"

    "You could have flunked the whole ss."

    "I was afraid I was going to get a failing grade for attitude. I''m d I got extra credit in the end."

    "When I see sandals like that studying, I want to punch them for nothing."

    All the students, hot and cold, gossiped.

    Many students didn''t recognize Vikir, as the academy''s academic style emphasizes practical skills over written work.

    This was especially true for the cold-ss students.

    This is because students in the hot ss, represented by "mages" tend to put a lot of emphasis on handwriting, while students in the cold ss, represented by "warriors" put less emphasis on handwriting.

    Next. Several of the cold students began to discuss their devious ns amongst themselves.

    "He seems like a study bug, so let''s see if he can be as cocky in his afternoon ss."

    "Maybe there''s a physical educationb in the afternoon liberal arts requirement?"

    "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, ''Naphtali'' is a real physical education ss. It''s even an anti-war concept."

    "It''s a great way to break the snout of an arrogant asshole."

    "Everybody hold still, I got him."

    And so began a fierce battle of nerves between the freshmen.

    * * *

    Don Quixote Tudor.

    The head of the Cold Warrior A ss, he was currently in the center of the academy for physical education.

    "...This ss is for me!"

    This afternoon''s lesson was practical ''Naphtali''.

    Naphtali is a type of sport that is categorized as a ball game.

    A total of forty people, divided into two sides, try to score points by throwing the ball into the opponent''s goal.

    There are goals at each end of arge field, 50 meters long and 100 meters wide, and yers from both teams have to carry the ball in any way they can to get it into the other team''s goal.

    It can be kicked, thrown, or picked up and thrown.

    In the middle of the game, you can try to body m your opponent or attack them with your fists and feet.

    Either way.

    Whether you dodge, fight, or pass the ball into the other team''s goal is entirely up to you.

    Only two things are prohibited: using mana and using weapons.

    "Hahaha, Naphtali is what I do best. Let''s go somewhere!"

    Tudor stepped forward to represent ss A. Despite having no mana and no weapons, he was confident.

    And there were three members of ss B standing in his way.

    "What are you talking about, I''ll kill you."

    "I''ll kill you."

    "Kill him."

    They were the Baskerville triplets.

    And so began the back-and-forth between the A and B teams.

    "Pass! My ball!"

    Tudor waved enthusiastically at his ssmates from the start of the game.

    Soon, a leather oval-shaped ball flew out andnded in Tudor''s hands.

    Tudor picked it up and started sprinting forward.

    ''That''s it. This is the real deal!''

    What''s the point of memorizing theories for a written exam?

    A true dragon, a true knight, must be able to run like the wind to blow past his enemies and reach his target.

    Tudor was in the Runner position, and he was running fast.

    And then.

    There were three linesmen in his way.

    "Cocky bastard. How dare you try to break through."

    "How dare you."

    "Dare."

    Highbrow, Midbrow, and Lowbrow stand in Tudor''s way.

    No mana, no weapons, just pure physicalbat.

    The iron-blooded Baskerville and the spear-wielding Don Quixote were about to go head-to-head.

    ...But.

    "I beg your pardon, sir, but I have no intention of going toe-to-toe with the monsters of the Iron-Blooded."

    Tudor whirled in ce.

    In the blink of an eye, he sliced through Midbrow and Lowbrow and slipped through the gap between them.

    It was a ghostly dodge and an all-out charge.

    The rest of the ss cheered at Tudor''s super y.

    "Wow, that''s Tudor? That''s amazing!"

    "I can''t believe he has no mana and no weapons."

    "I heard Don Quixote had a genius in his family."

    "That''s what you get for being the head of the Cold Warriors ss!"

    The cheers didn''tst long, though.

    "I''m going somewhere."

    A shadowy figure followed Tudor as he ran.

    Higthbrow Les Baskervilles.

    The strongest of Baskerville''s tridents, he blocked Tudor again.

    "The ball. Give it to me."

    And with that, Higthbrow hand and Tudor''s hand met, and the result was....

    Poof!

    Surprisingly, Higthbrow lost.

    Tudor dodged a flying Highbrow''s hand and left a deep palm print on his chest arm.

    "Boom!"

    Highbrow stumbled back half a step, and Tudor spun him around at the same speed he''d been running.

    "Hahaha, block him if you can!"

    There was no stopping Tudor once he had outrun even Baskerville''s Trident, the ace of the B ss.

    Pow! Boom, boom, boom, boom!

    No one is taller, no one is heavier, and no one is bigger than Tudor.

    With the waist of a leopard and the back of a bear, Tudor ran fast and stamped on everyone in his path.

    Speed to speed, strength to strength.

    Don Quixote Tudor is the most powerful runner and lineman in the world.

    After smashing through or past every obstacle in his path, Tudor finds himself in front of the B ss goal.

    The goal is arge Y-shaped iron hoop, and if you throw the ball through it, you''ll score a point.

    Tudor pulls his arm back, ready to score, when something catches his eye.

    "...!"

    It was Vikir, standing off to the side near the goal.

    Apparently, he hadn''t been assigned a particrly important position and was ying a modest backup defender.

    For a moment, Tudor''s grim smile widened.

    ''Isn''t that the boy from Professor Banshee''s lecture this morning?''

    He remembers Vikir rambling on and on about the theory.

    It made his first response sound like a dumb answer.

    ''Let me give you a little poke.''

    Tudor stopped throwing the ball and lunged forward a bit more.

    He was going to bump into Vikir''s shoulder and send him sprawling to the ground.

    ''Hey, buddy, I hope this inspires you to work out and not just study!''

    And then.

    ...puck!

    That was Tudor''sst thought.

    �C

    �C

    T/N: I know this is like American football / rugby but in raw like this ''???(Naphtali)''

 Chapter 135: Test Your Skills (4)

    <h4>Chapter 135: Test Your Skills (4)</h4>

    "What''s ...?

    Tudor jerked awake.

    Had he dozed off?

    No, that couldn''t be it. How could he doze off in the middle of a match when he was sweating it out in the first ce?

    As time seemed to pass slowly, Tudor recalled the situation just before his memory was momentarily interrupted.

    ''I''m pretty sure I got the ball, I dodged the Baskerville triplets, I broke Highbrow''s pursuit, I ran forward, I took a shot at the defenders in my way, and....''

    And?

    I don''t remember what happened next.

    I''m pretty sure I spotted the goal and was about to throw the ball in, but... why did I stop?

    Thought after thought led to another.

    ...!

    And with that momentarypse in thought, Tudor came to his senses.

    ''What am I doing?''

    Only then will his vision return to normal.

    After a moment of ckness, his vision returned to normal.

    The green grass of the training field, the blue sky, the towering goalposts, and the surprised faces of his enemies and allies.

    So far, it''s the same scene I saw just before my memory faded.

    The only thing different is... that they''re all upside down?

    "Huh?"

    Only then was Tudor able toe to his senses.

    He was now stuck in the corner of the field, also upside down and in a ridiculous position.

    "Ugh!?"

    Tudor scrambled to his feet, looking down at the dirt and grass that covered him.

    He looked down at the dirt and grass on his body, and in front of him stood Vikir with a nonchnt expression.

    Tudor suddenly remembered everything.

    ''That''s him. Just before scoring a goal, I gave him a sneaky shoulder-bump....''

    A guy who was only good at studying and seemed very corrupt.

    For a moment, I had the nasty thought of giving him a hard time.

    But the moment I reached him and pped him on the shoulder, Tudor was impacted as if he had been hit by a giant mountain.

    He bounced off and rolled on the floor, leaving him stretched out in a ridiculous position and momentarily stunned.

    Somehow, the guy who''d actually gotten the shoulder block was just standing there, dazed.

    Tudor scrambled to his feet and was about to say something to Vikir when he heard a voice.

    "ss A goal!"

    Tudor heard the referee shout.

    Tudor looks up, startled, and sees the ball rolling under the B team''s goal.

    As Tudor spun out of the way of Vikir, the ball floated upward and somehow went in.

    It was a lucky, lucky goal, like catching a mouse in the back of a cow.

    But there wasn''t much of a roar from the crowd.

    Even Tudor''s head, after scoring the goal, was marked with a ''?''

    ''What did I do? Why did I fall?''

    Tudor continued to look bewildered.

    "Even though I scored a goal, I didn''t feel any sense of aplishment.

    It was just a silly goal that went from bad to worse.

    The question is, why did Tudor fall?

    Tudor had never encountered a situation like this before in his career.

    Even at the age of 17, he was able to overwhelm the knights in his family with his physical strength, and his talent was especially evident in the sport of Naphtali.

    A jack-of-all-trades who could jump, run, dash, pass, and wrestle.

    Holder, kicker, punter, returner, running back, fullback, quarterback, receiver, tackler, guard, center, linebacker, sapper, all-arounder who could y any position.

    Don Quixote''s unrivaled ability to outwork his peers.

    That was Don Quixote Tudor.

    But he was beaten to the punch by that study bug in front of him, the sandy-haired Vikir?

    ''No, that''s not possible! Even if I hadn''t spent any mana, that''s impossible!''

    Tudor shook his head in disbelief.

    If Vikir had been a good lineman and blocked his charge, he wouldn''t have allowed the goal to go in in the first ce.

    ''There was something wrong there, let''s do it right again!''

    Tudor corrected his stance and ran back to his side of the field.

    Next thing you know, the B team''s keeper has kicked the ball out of y.

    Tudor, being the genius that he is, snatched the ball up.

    It was a phenomenal disy of ball possession.

    "Block it!"

    Tudor hugged the ball and ran at full speed.

    What?

    For some reason, he couldn''t see the Baskerville triplets who had been blocking him with their eyes lit up.

    "...?"

    I looked up, hoping to see something, and saw the back of the stadium.

    The Baskervilles'' triplets were blocking Vikir''s path.

    It looked like they were escorting him.

    ''What are they doing? Why aren''t they staying on the line?''

    Was it because they didn''t feel confident enough to confront him?

    No, I don''t think so.

    Tudor, the eldest son of Don Quixote, had heard rumors about the Baskerville triplets.

    Strong, cunning, and rascals their own age.

    They are not the kind of people who would give up just because they were pushed out once.

    Tudor ran straight for them.

    Papapapap!

    Tudor, a near-professional when ites to lead dribbling, once again flipped off the Baskerville triplets and drove deep into the B team''s goal.

    "Someone like a loach."

    Highbrow Baskerville closes in on Tudor.

    ...Puff!

    Highbrow''s muscles and bones, hardened by the protection of the Styx River, shed with Tudor''s.

    However, in hand-to-handbat, Tudor was definitely outmatched.

    "This isn''t martial arts, my friend."

    With a flowing motion, Tudor slipped through the hollow under Highbrow''s nk and ran straight for the back.

    Suddenly, the goal was in sight.

    Except.

    This time, it wasn''t the goal, but Vikir, standing far behind him.

    Even without mana, Tudor was confident.

    The power of his grueling training had been summoned from his lower and upper body, from the soles of his feet, through his hips and waist, and exploded in his palms.

    Tudor''s arms flew out like a single giant spear, smashing through the targets in front of him.

    ''There will be no coincidence this time, try it!''

    And then.

    ...puck!

    Once again, that was Tudor''sst thought.

    * * *

    Meanwhile. Vikir clicked his tongue as he watched Tudor crash into him and fall away.

    ''Why does he keeping this way?''

    Since the other party is getting upset, the atmosphere makes it impossible for you to get upset too.

    Vikir gave him a cursory nce in the direction of his position with a look of annoyance.

    But.

    This time, I hit him pretty hard, and Tudor is worse for wear,pletely unmoving.

    Looks like he''ll be stunned a little longer thanst time.

    Dorrrr...

    The ball rolled andnded at Vikir''s feet.

    Mmmmmmmm.

    Vikir stared at the ball rolling on the floor.

    But to his surprise, no one came to pick it up.

    Tudor''s unrivaled performance had kept everyone, friend and foe alike, away.

    Then. A tremendous amount of cheering came from the stands of the B team.

    "Who is he! You''re in ss B, right!?"

    "Tudor''s in the grass! Now''s your chance!"

    "But why did Tudor fall?"

    "I don''t know! Does it matter now! We''re going to lose to the A ss if we keep doing this!"

    "Run! It''s almost game time!"

    "But who is he?"

    "I don''t know! He''s in our ss, so cheer for him!"

    Everyone in ss B, who was about to lose 1:0, started cheering for Vikir.

    Vikir sighed softly to himself.

    He didn''t want to stand out, but in such a high-profile crisis, doing nothing would only make him stand out more.

    Unable to help himself, Vikir reached out and grabbed the ball.

    ''Oh well.''

    But the situation was pretty hopeless.

    All of his allies were either on the ground or far away, having been pierced by Tudor.

    There were only A''s running toward them.

    Vikir was faced with a dilemma: Is he going to lose the ball like this? If he did that, He''d get the risk of being branded as a traitor and receiving more attention throughout the new semester.

    But he also didn''t want to charge with the ball, score a goal, and be a star.

    In the end, Vikir made his ownpromise.

    Swoosh.

    Vikir picked up the ball and pulled his arm back.

    The game was seconds away from ending. The cheering ss B students muttered to themselves in disbelief.

    "s, 5 seconds before the end of the match, it''s over."

    "Can''t believe we''ve been losing to ss A since the beginning of the semester."

    "...? Look at him. What''s the kid with the ball trying to do right now?"

    "What are you doing? There''s three seconds left."

    Everyone was frustrated.

    Even the Team A linemen were slowing down, realizing that the game was over.

    And then.

    Boom.

    Vikir''s arm moved.

    A throw.

    The ball flew. Straight up into the sky.

    But with one second left in the game, what''s the point of a ball flying?

    One by one, the students who were watching the sporting event packed up their things and left the stands, as if they had nothing to look forward to.

    Only a few students, who are unusually attached to the victory, follow the ball''s trajectory with regret.

    ... but?

    The ball flies a little far.

    A little too far.

    Zoom, zoom, zoom.

    The ball continues to rise, even though it has passed the distance wheremon sense would tell it to stop.

    Shhhhhhh.

    And now it began to fall in a gentle curve.

    "...?"

    "Huh!?"

    Everyone''s eyes widen, A and B teams alike.

    Time had run out and the game was over.

    But the ball, still hovering in midair, continues to move forward, not caring that the game is over.

    And then.

    BANG

    The ball hits one of the posts of the iron Y-shaped goal and slides into it.

    And.

    ....

    The center of the field is immersed in silence.

    All the students in the stands and on the field were at a loss for words.

    The professor who officiated the game dutifully dropped the whistle in his mouth and muttered in a daze.

    "... Buzzer Beater."

 Chapter 136: Test Your Skills (5)

    <h4>Chapter 136: Test Your Skills (5)</h4>

    The buzzer beater is one of the more unusual rules of the game.

    It allows a goal to be scored at the same time as the buzzer sounds, or even slightlyter, as long as the ball has left the yer''s body and is still in the air when the end of the match is announced.

    Vikir''s ball hit the post almost simultaneously with the signal to end the game.

    The score was tied at 1:1 between the two teams, and the game went into overtime.

    By then, Tudor, sprawled out on the field, hade to his senses.

    "What the hell is going on?

    Tudor still hadn''t quite gotten hisposure back.

    It was inexplicable, unless he had slipped, but the mighty Tudor would never make such a rudimentary mistake.

    ??

    In the midst of all the questions, arge hand rested on Tudor''s shoulder.

    "Let me deal with him."

    Sancho, who has been Tudor''s best friend since enrollment, steps forward.

    Sancho Barataria, was a schrship student selected for integration by numerous mercenary guilds in the North.

    He''s given up his keeper''s position and moved to the front of the field to pay back Tudor for recognizing him as a friend and someone he can trust with his back.

    Sancho stared across the field at Vikir with a serious expression on his face.

    Unlike Tudor, he hadn''t let his guard down.

    "In the frozen north, where even the frost itself groans, everyone fights their own battles, from the newborn to the dying. Everyone is a warrior."

    Warriors are tempered by the harsh climate and terrain.

    Sancho was well aware that even the most insignificant of men could take the life of a great man.

    Tudor said to Sancho.

    "I thought you were only a keeper?"

    "How can I stand idly by when my friend has been struck down twice?"

    Sancho said as he stood next to Tudor.

    He had promised himself he wouldn''t y in his age group''s league because he was too physically overpowered.

    Tudor was touched by Sancho''s words and patted him on the arm.

    And then, the game was on.

    Overtime.

    The first team to score a "golden goal" in either A or B would win.

    This is a performance evaluation that is also reflected in the midterm evaluation, so everyone was on the line.

    "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! It''s thest one! Let''s win!"

    "It''s a B-side shootout! All defenders,e out and attack!"

    "Linemen, get together! Block it!"

    "Smash it!"

    All the students began to shout back and forth.

    Then.

    "Anyone get it!"

    Highbrow, who was holding the ball, found a gap in the siege of ss A linemen and passed it.

    He threw it to the guy who thought he was on the same side based on his uniform.

    "...?"

    It was Vikir.

    He had been half-dragged out by the B team''s strategy of using every defender as an attacker.

    ...Jaw!

    Unintentionally, Vikir caught the ball.

    "...."

    As soon as Vikir caught the ball, he looked at Highbrow.

    Not wanting to be the center of attention, Vikir''s unspoken message to Highbrow was simple.

    "Do you want to y?"

    "...Sorry."

    Highbrow met Vikir''s gaze, even in that urgent moment, and lowered his eyes.

    It was the same with Midbrow and Lowbrow.

    When the Baskerville triplets suddenly became sullen for an unknown reason, the morale of the ss A linemen skyrocketed.

    Tudor and Sancho also seized the opportunity to hit.

    "What''s going on? Why are they suddenly so intimidated?"

    "I think it''s our guts. Here we go!"

    Sancho stepped forward.

    Doo-doo-doo-doo-doo.

    Sancho charged like a buffalo toward Vikir, who was standing in the distance with the ball.

    Then, his muscled, log-like forearms and palms mmed ferociously into Vikir''s chest.

    Just then.

    "...!"

    Sancho''s eyes shed open to an unreal scene.

    It was a memory from a long time ago. It was a memory from his childhood, when he used to push and roll huge boulders for training.

    Does his small body have the ability to roll over a muchrger rock?

    But the young Sancho kept pushing and pushing and pushing that rock.

    And now.

    ...Bam!

    The same frustration he''d felt then was being felt in the tips of his palms.

    ''What kind of power....''

    Sancho felt a huge boulder in Vikir''s slender body.

    He pushed with all his might and it didn''t budge.

    In fact, it felt so heavy and counter-stic that it pushed him back.

    But.

    Sancho gritted his teeth.

    He had never been pushed by another person before, not with mana, but with pure strength.

    Not by people his own age, not by older warriors like his father and mentor.

    ''I''ve never been defeated by strength in my hometown, so how can I lose here at the Academy!''

    Even in the frozen northern continent of the warriors, he was unbeatable.

    Even Sancho as a child had been forced to push a seemingly insurmountable boulder.

    ''It will happen again!''

    Sancho snorted and used his arms to push Vikir away.

    ...Kuguguk!

    The giant boulder finally moved.

    ''Look at that! How about that!''

    Sancho smiled curiously and looked down at Vikir.

    At that moment.

    "...!

    Sancho had to face it.

    Vikir''s gaze, unmoved, just staring back at him with an expressionless face.

    A rock, what he thought was just a giant rock.

    The moment he''s knocked backward by Sancho''s force, and the moment he stretches one leg out behind him, heels on the ground behind him.

    A thud!

    A different kind of gravity, a different kind of weight, stood in Sancho''s way.

    It was overwhelming (������).

    He pushed against what he thought was arge boulder, only to find Mount Tai standing behind him.

    ''No way! How can this little guy...!''

    Sancho was amazed.

    When Vikir kept his feet horizontal, he could push back a little, but now that he had one leg stretched out behind him, he couldn''t push back even a millimeter.

    Kuguguk...

    Vikir was bearing Sancho''s strength and weight and still not losing the ball.

    He was just thinking.

    ''Should I let him fall?''

    Vikir wasn''t using any mana.

    His bones and muscles had been strengthened beyond their limits by the protection of the Styx River that permeated his body.

    Before his regeneration, this would have been impossible, but for Vikir in this life, who had tapped into the power of the Styx River from a young age, it was quite possible.

    It is also said that a healthy body is a healthy mind.

    The karma, experience, and the smell of blood imprinted on his soul from ying countless demons had pushed his physical strength to the limit.

    The Baskervilles'' superior physical strength, coupled with their hardy souls that had seen it all, allowed them to surpass the natural limits of their weight ss.

    ... But that doesn''t mean you have to use mana to win here.

    Eventually, Vikir backed off.

    "Oh no. I can''t take this."

    Vikir copses in a heap.

    The ball was thrown far enough away that Vikir was no longer a target for the ss A linemen.

    As the ball flies away, all eyes turn back to him.

    "Oooh, Sancho got the ball!"

    "...Yaah, but that guy who got tackled by Sancho isn''t dead, is he?"

    "Who cares, shut up and get the ball back!"

    All the students rush after the ball again.

    ... but only one. Sancho''s gaze was still on Vikir.

    ''What was that?''

    He copsed into a heap at the end, but the gravitas he''d disyed just moments before was still making Sancho''s palms and wrists tingle.

    He''d managed to push him off eventually, but his vision had gone ck with frustration during the sh.

    Tudor, seeing the look on his friend''s face, realized what was happening.

    "That guy''s got a really tight body."

    "Guess he wasn''t a studying worm-like ...."

    "His basic physique is pretty good, maybe even better than yours or mine."

    "It would be a different story if he used mana."

    "Yeah. That''s too bad. If you''d been born into a noble family and gotten some organized training, you''d be an Expert by now."

    Tudor and Sancho looked at Vikir, who had fallen behind them as they ran for the ball.

    There was pity, envy, and a bit of recognition in their eyes.

    * * *

    Then, with a dramatic golden goal from Highbrow Baskerville, and great assists from Middlebrow Baskerville and Lowbrow Baskerville, ss B won.

    It was the Baskerville triplets who got the cheers.

    Chuak-

    The B students areughing and sshing soda on their heads.

    Meanwhile, Vikir was a little farther away from everyone''s hugging and jumping around.

    Then.

    ng!

    Something spilled over Vikir''s head.

    It turned out to be a soda.

    "...?"

    Vikir looked up to see Tudor and Sancho standing there, equally covered in soda,ughing.

    "You''re the one who won ss B, and you''re not going to get away with it."

    "You should be more excited. Your buzzer-beating goal is the reason they won."

    Tudor, covered in soda, smirked and shouldered Vikir.

    "Honestly, I was a little jealous that you were so good at answering questions on your own in thatst lecture. I wanted to give you a hard time in gym ss."

    "...."

    "But I was the one who got humiliated, and I knew it when I saw it. I realized how sleepy I was. Ugh, I''m sorry."

    Tudor apologized honestly.

    Vikir simply nodded in agreement.

    Don Quixote Tudor, hero of the spear family.

    He wouldter go on to hunt countless demons in the endless wars of destruction that followed the dawn of the Age of Destruction.

    The hero who saved countless human beings, closed the gate, and died a spectacr death. He was Tudor.

    Vikir nodded, remembering Tudor''s heroic traits from his previous life.

    Just then, Sancho, the man next to him, asked Vikir.

    "By the way, what kind of exercise have you been doing? You''re so out of shape, I thought you were using mana."

    Sancho reached out and rubbed Vikir''s chest, shoulders, and back.

    Vikir smiled weakly.

    "If I had used mana, I wouldn''t have been able to defeat you. "I have a terrible amount of mana."

    "It''s a shame, you blessed with a great skeleton. With an early education, you would surely have be an exponent like me. It''s not toote for you to start taking lessons in mana breathing at the Academy."

    Tudor sounded genuinely sorry.

    But Vikir only smiled.

    Tudor felt the tip of his nose twitch once more at her nonchnce.

    Meanwhile, Sancho chuckled as if he liked Vikir''s hard body.

    "By the way, what size are you in the 3rd generation? Without mana. Would you like to go to the weight roomter and work on ironing together?"

    "Dude, what are you talking about working out again, drink this, I don''t have any alcohol, it''s soda!"

    "Ugh! Yuck! Don''t feed me this stuff, I''ll lose muscle!"

    Tudor and Sancho yfully ssh their drinks at each other.

    Vikirughed softly and turned away.

    Soon, students from other sses who were watching passed bottles of water to the lead runners from ss A and ss B.

    "Tudor, here, drink this water!"

    "Wash your sweat off with this ...."

    "And here''s a towel!"

    The idea was to wash the sweat and drink from their bodies.

    A crowd of girls crowded around Tudor, offering him water and towels.

    "Haha, thanks girls, it''s only ssmates after all~"

    Tudor smiled warmly and epted the water and towels.

    The Sancho and Baskerville triplets also grabbed bottles of water to wash their hair and faces.

    ...and Vikir did the same.

    You have to take off your sses to wash your face, which is sticky with sweat, dirt, and drink.

    Vikir took off his sses and slicked back his bangs. Then he rinsed his face with clear water.

    Beneath the hair that covered his face, his bare face is revealed.

    Vikir looked up, dried his face, and walked back to the stand, dripping with water.

    And a moment.

    ....

    The gymnasium is suddenly silent.

 Chapter 137: Test your skills (6)

    <h4>Chapter 137: Test your skills (6)</h4>

    The next day.

    A curious crowd gathered in front of ss B of the Cold Warrior ss.

    It was a mix of first, second, and third years, and even a few fourth years who don''t show up for public events due to graduation and employment.

    Themon thread was that almost all of them were girls.

    "Hey, who''s that kid who was dripping water off the end of his chin after the game yesterday?"

    "Is that him? Is that him from yesterday?"

    "Wow, that face is crazy. How did he get that look?"

    "Oh my god, he''s so cute... I want him...."

    The girls hadn''t gotten over the shock of yesterday''s game.

    Everyone who watched yesterday''s ss-level lead Naphtalipetition between the cold ss, whether in person or on the magical video or photos, all noticed one thing: the Naphtali was amazing.

    ''Holy shit. Who is that?''

    ''I, I stopped breathing... ... ''It takes my breath away.''

    ''Wow, he''s so ridiculously handsome.''

    That''s the face of a schoolboy walking back to the stands after the game, swiping at his damp bangs.

    That sweaty, water-soaked face belonged to Vikir.

    Yesterday, Vikir had taken off his sses for a few moments and put on his bangs.

    And it struck unexpectedly at the defenseless hearts of countless female students sitting in the stands.

    As Vikir returned, water dripping from the tip of his chin, countless water bottles and towels were thrust in front of him.

    ''Here, use this handkerchief, do you want some water too?''

    ''Big brother, my water is cooler, take this!

    ''Funny, why brother, we''re in the same ss?''

    ''Who cares? If he''s handsome, he''s my brother!''

    Vikir was quickly recognized as the star of the game.

    The moment he returned to the stands, the brief movement of brushing his bangs was embedded in the mana screen as a "snapshot," which was yed over and over again on the sports page of the magically created school newspaper.

    [Exclusive] The Identity of the ''Face Genius'' Who Appeared in the Cold Warrior ss''s 1st Year Naphtali Game!? / Views: 29,872

    -Last night in afternoon physical education ss, an unidentified freshman was returning to the bench sweating after the game. This mysterious male student is known to have contributed greatly to the ss'' victory by showing excellent skills in the game and scoring one point, making it a hot topic...

    <Comments: 13,021>

    ?(Cold ss 1st year student): Isn''t that synthetic?! What kind of person has a face like that?

    ??(Hot ss 2nd year student): ???I''m the first to hear that there''s such a visual in the cold ss~.

    ??(Hot ss 1st year student): I don''t think any of our ssmates had that kind of look?

    ??(Hot ss 1st year student): I didn''t see him in OT?? If he had a face like that, I''d definitely ask him out~.

    ??(Hot ss 2nd year student): Why are you flirting with a 1st grade topic, CC is only from 2nd grade?

    ??(Cold ss 1st year student): Wow but he''s really good looking;;; Who is he? I''m a guy and I''m still in love with him.

    ??(Cold ss 1st year student): He''s the guy who yed Naphtali with me yesterday... He really looks like that... I was surprised and just stared for a while...

    ??(Hot ss 3rd year student): Look at his jawline...his disheveled hair...his face...he''s so cute! ????????????

    ??(Cold ss 3rd year student): Water droplets flow along the jawline and cut...My sister''s heart breaks ??

    ??(Hot ss 4th year student):???? I''ll go see you right away tomorrow...I''ll find you even if my sister searches all the cold ssrooms!!!

    ??(Hot ss 3rd year student): ?Oh my... calm down... I have to graduate...

    .

    .

    It was truly unknown when a passing student from the newspaper club took the picture using Mana Screen.

    "Who''s Vikir, where is he!"

    "Tudor was nice, but... I came to see Vikir!"

    "Vikir, where are you? I love you so much!"

    "My sister bought 10,000 handkerchiefs to wipe the water off our Vikir''s face!"

    After hearing the rumors about Vikir, a lot of girls and some boys(?), regardless of ssmates and seniors, came to the party, especially the seniors.

    Then.

    "... What''s going on?"

    There was a voice that froze the crowd gathered in front of ss B of the Cold Warrior ss.

    Professor Morg Banshee.

    His entrance caused the mass of students in front of the lecture hall to scramble to make way for him.

    Professor Banshee sternly warned everyone, especially the older students.

    "I don''t know what all the fuss is about, but don''t you daree into the underssmen''s ssrooms. It''s against school rules."

    The students turned away with sullen faces.

    ...And there was one person who was relieved to see Professor Banshee.

    It was Vikir, sitting in a window seat in the corner of the ssroom.

    Vikir had taken Piggy''s advice and was listening to the lecture with a hood and sses covering most of his face.

    ''Professor Banshee saved my life. I didn''t expect to be in the papers.''

    Even Vikir, a man of the world, hadn''t expected this to happen.

    Before his regression, Vikir''s face was a mess of burns, stab wounds, and poisoned scars from his childhood.

    This was the first time he realized that his appearance could attract such attention.

    ''Hagiya, I haven''t really had any scars on my face since I returned.''

    Even if he had, he''d regenerated it all with the monstrous regenerative powers he''d stolen from the monsters, so there was no way he''d have any scars left.

    ''In my previous life, I never spoke to a woman. Ah, no. Saint Dolores, she was not frightened by the sight of my face. She was merciful and fair to all.''

    While Vikir was thinking this over.

    "Now, ..., let''s go over the homework assignedst time."

    Professor Banshee began his lecture.

    He had asked the students to do their own research and write a report on a few specific types of monsters.

    They were the following monsters

    <Venompion>

    Danger Rating: A

    Size: 3 meters

    Found in: Sand Falls, Harsh Desert, Eastern Continent

    -Named the Reaper of the Sands.

    A scorpion armed with heavy armor and powerful venom.

    Its exoskeleton is harder than steel, and it swings its powerful pincers to crush or strike its prey to death.

    The venom that oozes from the tip of its tail is said to be capable of killing 44 humans with a single drop.

    Arge scorpion is stretched out on a test tube.

    Venompion. A rare creature from the deserts of the distant Eastern Continent, it had been preserved and stuffed as soon as it died, and was now Professor Banshee''s favorite prized possession.

    Professor Banshee''s eyes lit up.

    "This scorpion hides itself under the sand and burrows quickly to find its prey. It sticks its tail out of the sand like a shark with its dorsal fin above the surface."

    At this point, the students caught in Professor Banshee''s gaze shake their heads and avert their eyes as if they were being stung by a scorpion.

    This is because Professor Banshee''s questions are always tricky to answer.

    Moreover, the Venompion is still so little known to the scientificmunity that it is not even listed in most of the magical encyclopedias.

    Professor Banshee smirked as he looked around at the new students, who were already avoiding his gaze.

    "Okay, let''s see who''s brave and wise enough to exin this monster to us, but let''s give the cold students a chance first, and the hot students shouldn''t feel too bad."

    The hot students burst outughing and the cold students sulk.

    When no one volunteered, Professor Banshee clicked her tongue.

    "Are you really not proud of your research results? So what do you n on doing after graduation? What about graduate school? What about employment? You guys are pathetic."

    But still, there is nothing he isn''t confident about.

    Professor Banshee scanned the faces of the cold-warrior students and said in a stern tone,

    "If there''s no one else, I''ll name one."

    With that, he stretched out a long, slender finger and pointed at someone.

    "Heh!"

    It was Piggy.

    Piggy, who ranked third on the written exam, was a brilliant mind in his own right.

    But even the information he''d worked so hard to gather and analyze wasn''t up to Professor Banshee''s standards.

    "E... Venompions have a ck, thick exoskeleton that is harder than steel. Theirrge right w acts more like a hammer than a pair of scissors, and they kill their prey with the venom contained in the poisonous stinger at the tip of their tail. Official records state that they grow up to three meters long, but some natives say that during times of great drought, individuals over five meters long are often seen...."

    "That''s enough. You''re to bemended for finding and gathering such rare material, but that''s it. You have no new arguments, so what''s your original research, just a bunch of rehashed discussions? What''s the difference between that and a parrot''s mindless chatter?"

    Piggy''s face contorted into a scowl at Professor Banshee''s point.

    "I''m deducting one point from your entire cold ss score. Now, let''s see your hot ss score."

    As it turns out, Professor Banshee''s notoriety was not a myth.

    This time, the Hot students began to squirm and stare likeb rats waiting for the syringe.

    Then.

    A small, white hand rose high above the crowd of students.

    It was Sinir.

    Professor Banshee narrowed her eyes.

    "First in the Hot ss. I take it you''ll be taking notes this term."

    "Yes, Professor."

    "try."

    Professor Banshee said grimly.

    Sinir, on the other hand, stood up with a glint of enthusiasm in his eyes, and began to read his report with a flourish.

    "Yes, I''m Sinir, ss A, first year, Hot ss, and I''m going to start my presentation now!"

    Sinir pulled out four sheets of paper, each one crammed with scribbled notes.

    "I''ve categorized the Venompion''s attacks, or hunting patterns, into three different categories and drawn different conclusions."

    "Hmm?"

    After hearing Sinir''s argument, Professor Banshee looked mildly intrigued.

    Sinir then proceeded to exin in a serious tone.

    "Venompions have a reputation for being one of the hardest monsters to defeat in the desert. Aside from a fewrge worm-like monsters like the Sandworm, it has no natural enemies."

    "That''s a story everyone already knows."

    "Yes. As I said, I''vepiled a list of cases where Venompions have attacked humans, or where they''ve been seen hunting their prey, and I''ve categorized their personalities into three types."

    Sinir held out the report.

    In it, along with numerous graphs, Sinir categorized the creature into three types, each with a different strategy for dealing with it.

    "Simply ignorant": Exceeds others in dashing speed, strength, and endurance, but has significantly lower intelligence, such as an inability to flee when in danger or escape when trapped.

    When defeating them, it is better to surround them, ambush them, or set traps than to fight them head-on.

    ''Wimpy'': Has a small skeleton and inferior physical abilitiespared to other individuals, but exhibits unpredictable attack patterns, such as popping out from unexpected ces or using its middle orst leg to make ineffective attacks.

    When fighting them, it is best to kill them before they can get close with a powerful single shot or ranged attack.

    ''Cunning'': Not only physically strong, but also intelligent. Combines the best qualities of ''Simply Ignorant'' and ''Wimpy'' into a drunken state.

    ��Siege and annihtion by high ranking knights or mages is the only answer.

    Sinir''s argument was so new that even the demanding Professor Banshee nodded.

    "There have been too few sightings of Venompions to fully categorize them, but you have a point, and I will make a formal report to the academy and let you know the results."

    The words of recognition from Professor Banshee''s mouth were enough to stun all the students.

    Sinir snorted with pride and sat back in his seat.

    She seemed to be aware of someone else, as she nced at the window seat outside the ssroom with a furtive look.

    Then Professor Banshee looked back at the cold ss.

    "That''s an excellent idea, Hot ss. It''s still just a possibility, but it''s an idea that could contribute to academia in its own way. What do you guys have?"

    None of the students from the cold side stepped forward to answer.

    "Vikir from ss B, then."

    Professor Banshee called out to Vikir specifically.

    Ever since thest incident, he''d been questioning Vikir from time to time.

    It was clear he didn''t like it.

    When Vikir raised his eyes from behind his bangs and gave him an annoyed nce, Professor Banshee crossed his arms with a wicked grin.

    "I''m sure you know a lot about these evil scorpions, so let''s see some of your reports, see what you''ve been working on for the past hour."

    "There''s a report here: ...It''s just the basics."

    Vikir felt the pressure of Professor Banshee''s gaze.

    He didn''t want to be the center of attention among the students anymore, and his nightly assassination runs outside the academy had left him with an absoluteck of time to work on his assignments.

    So Vikir had only scribbled down a few lines of the most basic,mon sense stuff for this preliminary report.

    ... It reads.

    "Venomphion is a B+ ranked monster that is not difficult to catch as long as you pay attention to the first stinger on its tail and the second stinger on its belly."

    It''s so generic andmon sense that I was just writing down what I thought everyone knew.

    ... but.

    As Vikir talks about his research topic and conclusions, every head in the room turns from left to right.

    Finally, Professor Banshee asks with a furrowed brow, as if he''s never heard of it before.

    "... ''second sting''? What is that?"

 Chapter 138: Men are Power (1)

    <h4>Chapter 138: Men are Power (1)</h4>

    "The Venompion is a dangerous B+ rank monster that can be easily caught as long as you pay attention to the first stinger on its tail and the second stinger on its stomach."

    Professor Banshee furrowed her brow at Vikir''s announcement.

    "...Second Stinger'', what is that?"

    Venompion arerge scorpions that live in the desert and carry a singlerge stinger near their tail.

    A sting can kill you before you can take more than a few steps, which is why desert travelers are wary of the area around its tail when they encounter one.

    But even Professor Banshee had never heard of a Venompion with two stingers before. ...

    The Empire''s danger rating for Venompion was A, not B+.

    Vikir closed his mouth in disbelief.

    ''I see. It must have been at a time when research on Venompion was still in its early stages.''

    What was so obvious to adventurers who lived through the Age of Destruction would be unfamiliar to those in the present day.

    The same goes for the strategy around Venompion.

    At this point, the Empire is still in the midst of a major demonic monster extermination campaign.

    It''s no wonder so little is known about them.

    It would be years before the Empire would be able to properly study the Venompion, so it was still a new monster to them.

    The second stinger, originally hidden beneath the Venompion''s belly armor, was discovered by a researcher by ident.

    After examining the hard exoskeleton piece by piece, down to the smallest unit that would no longer disintegrate, the researcher identally spilled the solution and melted a section of the Venomphion''s belly armor, thus revealing the existence of the tiny stinger.

    Since then, the Venomphion''s ybook has been redefined, and the mysterious behaviors and unexined attack patterns of the vile scorpion have been exined, leading to its downgrade in danger.

    But all of this was information that no one in the modern world would know, so Vikir simply kept quiet.

    " ... I think I''ve been researching the wrong material by mistake."

    But Professor Banshee wouldn''t let him off the hook.

    "How dare you make a mistake in my ss? You don''t deserve to be in my ss if you make a stupid mistake like that, and I''m deducting 10 points from your overall attitude score."

    Professor Banshee red at Vikir, and then at the entire Cold ss.

    There were sighs and groans from around the room.

    Some of the students were ring at Vikir, not at Professor Banshee.

    Vikir sighed, knowing he had no choice.

    If he went on like this, the student''s scores would be lowered, and he would make more enemies than he needed to.

    Without further ado, Vikir recalled what he knew.

    "However, before you deduct any marks, perhaps if you could examine the carapace of the scorpion carcass you have in your possession, things might be a little clearer."

    "Does that mean that your findings are correct?"

    "If not, feel free to make my attitude score zero. However, I would ask that you do not deduct any points from the group score."

    Professor Banshee smirked, the corners of his mouth twitching.

    "Very well. I''ll give you a chance to examine my specimen for your petty sacrificial act."

    With that, Professor Banshee turned over his prized scorpion carcass.

    A hard spot can be seen in the center where the disgusting legs are curled up.

    Professor Banshee picked up his scalpel, imbued it with mana, and sliced through the armor.

    He cut through the armor to hard spots that normally would have been untouched.

    And then. The students in the front row jumped back in surprise.

    ...Poof!

    Suddenly, the poisonous stinger that was hidden near the stomach shot upward.

    "Hmph!"

    Prof. Banshee stumbled backward andnded on his ass, startled by the poisonous stinger that had just shot up past his nose.

    Professor Banshee''s bangs were severed, and her hair fell in tufts.

    Vikir looked at it and thought to himself.

    ''The Venompion''s deathbed flip is the final act of bing one with its opponent. The reason the world has never seen that sting is because the witnesses are nearly all dead.''

    With that, Professor Banshee picked himself up off the ground, panting, and turned to Vikir.

    "Now, how did you know this?"

    "I just made a guess."

    "...guessing about what?"

    "Well, the reason there are so few sightings of Venompion is that the eyewitnesses are all dead, and I wondered where this scorpion hid such lethal technology. I also wondered if the sting of its obvious tail would pose that much of a threat to adventurers, so I took note of itsrgest and most intricately constructed belly armor."

    Hearing this, Professor Banshee looked dumbfounded.

    You''re doing this research for such a random reason, and it''s turning out to be so significant?

    But it''s hard not to believe it when ites from the undergraduate student who made the big discovery.

    Professor Banshee muttered under his breath.

    "I see. This exins why Venompion sometimes exhibits erratic attack patterns, such as leaving their pincers behind and attacking with their middle or end legs. The stingers near the belly are disposable, and it takes a long time for them to regenerate after use, so in the meantime, their attack patterns be simplistic and ignorant."

    Professor Banshee''s mutterings were met with a collective oooh from the students.

    ...except for one.

    As they all looked back at Vikir in admiration, there was a white-haired girl in the front row with her head down.

    "...."

    It was Sinir, the model student of the Hot ss.

    What was she thinking now, having just categorized the Venomphion''s three personalities, when Vikir''s research analyzed the phenomenon so much more urately and informative than her own?

    Regardless of her feelings, however, all the students in both the Cold and Hot ss were gossiping about Vikir''s presentation.

    "Wow, this is amazing. How can someone do research like that?"

    "I thought it was cool to be athletic, but... It''s cool to study that well."

    "But isn''t he athletic, too? Thest time I saw him, he was fighting Tudor and Sancho."

    "Oh, that''s because those games didn''t use any mana. We''ll have to use mana for the official tournamentter."

    "What''s the point of studying well? He''s amoner and doesn''t even have the basics of mana. He''ll probably get screwed during the midterms."

    "But he has a great attitude. Did you hear him say that he''s willing to lower his score but not his team''s score? That''s loyal."

    Public opinion was generally favorable.

    Vikir didn''t like the idea of having opinions formed about him, good or bad, in the first ce.

    Meanwhile.

    A few of the freshman girls were sneaking nces at Vikir and whispering in his ear.

    "I think I''ve gotten a better idea of my tastes this time around. I seem to like things that are a little nerdy. I guess I''m a nerd."

    "Nerds have to be good-looking too...."

    Theyugh out loud about what''s so great about Vikir, imagining the face hidden behind his bangs and sses.

    Suddenly, one of them looks up and nces at the girl behind him.

    "Hey, Bianca, what about you? Isn''t he okay?"

    Bianca. The eldest daughter of the Usher and co-head of the Cold ss looked up.

    Bianca replied in a deep tone.

    "Being handsome or smart doesn''t mean anything, unless you''re pretty."

    "Eh? Then what does it mean?"

    Bianca''s answer to her friends'' questions was simple.

    "A man is strength. He has to be strong."

    Bianca''s reasoning was loud and clear.

    "I''m not interested in men who are weaker than me. Is it Vikir or Vakar?, What can you do with a child who isn''t even an expert?"

    "Eh, but didn''t he do pretty well in thest Naphtali?"

    "That was without using mana. The concentration and size of the aura are the true test of strength. He''s probably going to bleed to death during the midterms, weaklings can''t survive in the academy."

    "Aww, you''re being too hard on him. I just want him to be handsome and smart."

    The girls turn away and gossip amongst themselves again.

    But Bianca is still staring at Vikir with an unimpressed gaze.

    ''What''s so good about that dirty little bastard?''

    She clicked her tongue when she noticed how other female students her age looked at men.

    Bianca''s gaze then turned to Vikir.

    The way he answered Professor Banshee''s questions, step by step, did not inspire any emotion in Bianca.

    "You can''t even be an expert, can you, ...?

    Bianca closed her eyes and yawned once.

    Then she turned her attention away from Vikirpletely.

    * * *

    A small, run-down nursery in a fairly remote location, even in a corner of the Imperial City.

    "Master! Swordmaster!"

    A panicked Terminus spits out.

    "Say, save me! Please save me! "I''m not at fault!"

    It''s long past midnight. When everyone else is asleep.

    A fat man is crawling across the floor, wiping away tears.

    Behind him stood Vikir, the Night Hound, with a long sword and a red aura.

    Vikir''s brow furrowed.

    ''Swordmaster.''

    Strictly speaking, Vikir is still the highest level of Graduator.

    It''s just that the aura he emanates from his magic sword, Beelzebub, is so thick and dense that it''s almost solid, nearly liquid.

    Perhaps this viin, who is about to be beheaded, saw the aura of Vikir, the highest grade graduator, and mistook him for a master.

    Vikir spoke in a dry voice.

    "... ... Doxeller. 52 years old. The mayor of the District and the director of an orphanage. They colluded with the demon and sold children. As the imperial capital is overflowing with illegitimate children of nobles, only high-ss orphans would have been treated. yes?"

    "High-ss orphans, there''s no such thing!"

    "Fair, fair-faced, literate, cultured, with blood from a noble family. All of those things are a premium for you. Isn''t that right?"

    "No! There''s nothing good or bad about orphans, they''re all blood bags anyway, what... huck!?"

    Without realizing it, Mr. Doxeller had unwittingly admitted his crime.

    A broker in the guise of a nursery director.

    It doesn''t matter if he knew or didn''t know he was dealing with a demon.

    Vikir lifted Beelzebub.

    Now, with a downward thrust of his arm, his head would fall off his body and roll across the floor.

    Just then.

    "...!"

    Vikir felt a st of cold night air behind him.

    Boo-boo-boo.

    It was too cold and heavy to be a natural breeze.

    Boom!

    Vikir jumped up and something big and heavy flew at him from behind.

    It was meant to kill, instead, It smashed into the shoulder of the fat Doxeller and thudded into the stone pir behind him.

    "...?"

    Vikir turned his head.

    Through the ss panes of his gue mask, he saw something bizarre.

    A man in a neatly styled ck suit.

    A ck sack-like thing covered his face with stitch marks, and in his hand, he held arge hammer.

    And worst of all.

    ''... this smell.''

    An overwhelming odor emanated from him, the kind only a demon could emit.

    "Is it the Ten Commandments?"

    Vikir flicked Beelzebub once.

    hudududug-

    The sword''s temporary bend was restored by the force of the blow, and the auras on its tip scattered like water droplets.

    Amidst the rain of bullets, the man in the ck sack raised his hammer.

    ...Quack!

    He mmed the hammer down on the ground, sending dust and stone fragments flying, and with it, he blocked Vikir''s aura shots.

    [grunt... grunt...]

    He let out an unpleasant sound beneath the ck sack he wore on his head.

    Vikir narrowed his eyes at the ck aura on his hammer.

    "A graduator. Intermediate, maybe even advanced.''

    A strong fellow, but not a Ten Commandments demon.

    Probably one of the minions working under the Ten Commandments.

    "That''s good, I''ll be able to meet Ten Commandments when I''m done with you."

    Behind the mask, Vikir''s face flushed with excitement.

    This was the first clue he''d gotten sinceing to the Academy.

    ...?

    [grunt...]

    Vikir''splexion changed as the ck sack man raised the hammer.

    The way the monster held the hammer was very familiar to Vikir.

    "...that."

    The creature was exuding the smell of the demon.

    What he was about to use was clearly the blunt technique of the Faithful Saint, the Quovadis.

 Chapter 139: Men are Power (2)

    <h4>Chapter 139: Men are Power (2)</h4>

    ...sh!

    ck and red strikes crossed each other.

    Vikir felt a crackling pain in his wrist as hended on the ground.

    ''That''s a lot of weight, even for a rotten Graduator.''

    Turning his head, he saw the creature crashing through the outer wall of the building beyond.

    [grunt...]

    He''s carrying arge hammer, and the sticky aura that symbolizes the Graduator ispletely coating therge surface area of the hammer.

    Bubbling...

    His aura is like boiling tar, or liquid asphalt.

    I''d estimate it to be an advanced Graduator.

    Vikir squinted at it.

    "That''s clearly a blunt technique of the Faithful Saint. Why would a demon use this technique?

    The holy power of the Rune Religion was clearly the antithesis of the demons, and it was a great irony that the martial technique to draw out that holy power was unleashed by the hands of a demon.

    ''Does that mean the Quovadis have some sort of connection to the demons after all, because I''m sure they have their own rotten parts....''

    Maybe, just maybe, he''d pick up a clue about the Face Hunters, the stealthy men in the Imperial City.

    The traitors, renegades, and insiders he''s hunted so far have all been dealing with the same demon, and they all have one thing inmon: they lose their faces upon death.

    And the creature in front of him seems to be a simr case, as he wears a ck sack over his head.

    Vikir loaded his sword with mana in earnest.

    "First, I''ll cut off your limbs. Now for the interrogation. All you need is a mouth."

    An aura stretched out from Beelzebub.

    Superior Graduator, solid and dense, the aura stretched out and drew a half-moon trajectory.

    Thud.

    A solid marble pir was sliced diagonally.

    The monster hastily raised his hammer to block the blow, but he was unable to avoid the crumbling debris behind him.

    ...Crunch!

    With that, the creature burst through the rubble and dirt.

    His ck suit was torn to shreds, revealing muscr flesh, the words jaggedly etched into his chest like a knife.

    ''Ephebo''

    "Ephebo, is that your name?"

    Vikir asked, and the creature did not answer. Just.

    ...whoosh!

    It only emitted an even more intense aura from its body.

    But even then, it was only an Advanced Graduator, the level Vikir had been at when he first arrived in Bk''s vige and was settling in.

    "That''s good, I''ve been having a hard time picking up trash."

    Vikir smiled, though only briefly.

    He was a little sore from all the time he''d spent hunting down weaklings.

    An opponent of advanced Graduator level should still be able to exert some strength, so it was time to stretch a bit.

    ...sh!

    Vikir also raised his aura.

    The Seven Forms of Baskerville now manifested their terrifying trajectory.

    First tooth transposition.

    Second tooth central incisor.

    Third tooth Lateral incisor.

    Fourth tooth mrs.

    Fifth tooth wisdom tooth.

    Sixth tooth premr.

    Seventh tooth mrs.

    Four in the upper jaw and three in the lower jaw. A total of seven teeth fell towards Ephebo, the demon with a ck sack.

    ...Thud!

    The first tooth bit into Ephebo''s body.

    The second tooth ripped open the wound the first had inflicted, pulling it apart and severing it.

    The third tooth helps the second strike continue strong, connecting it to the fourth.

    The fourth tooth crushed Ephebo''s entire body, leaving it tattered beyond regeneration or repair.

    The fifth tooth funneled all the recoil damage from the previous four strikes into one ce and mmed into Ephebo''s body again.

    The sixth tooth was assisting the seventh,pletely sealing off even the tiniest crack that Ephebo could have gotten through.

    The seventh tooth was still so small and weak that it looked like a gap, but with the sixth tooth supporting it, it didn''t matter.

    On the contrary, if the trajectory in which the seventh tooth was located appeared to be empty, and it tried to escape through this gap, it would be oviposited by the sixth tooth cleverly hidden behind it and quickly be a rag.

    Such was the case with Ephebo.

    Quack, quack, quack, quack!

    The trajectory of Vikir''s sword, the sequence of teeth, and the fact that he had managed to find a gap in it, made Ephebo immediately realize that it was a trap.

    The seventh tooth, rtively small and seemingly less intimidating, was actually optimized for killing more than any of the others.

    "They don''t call it the seventh for nothing."

    Vikir said as he stamped on Ephebo, which quickly turned into a rag.

    It may be small, but it is a seventh tooth.

    No one had ever seen it before, except for Vikir and Hugo Les Baskerville, the patriarch of the Baskerville family.

    In the future, when this seventh tooth grows and reaches its full size, it will be the moment when Vikir bes a Swordmaster.

    ''And when he does, he will not be afraid of Hugo.''

    Vikir''s feelings for Hugo had softened considerably since he realized that his death in his previous life had more to do with Set than Hugo.

    But despite this, Vikir still didn''t feel good about Hugo.

    After all, it was he who had struck his own throat in his final moments before regressing, and it was he who had tossed so many of his brothers aside like they were expendable.

    "So, shall we begin our interrogation?"

    Vikir kicked the tattered Ephebo and impaled him on a steel beam jutting out of one of the stone pirs.

    Gurgling...

    Vikir''s small and delicate hands bent the thick steel frame like a taffy stick and shaped it into a hook.

    Ephebo struggled, but with his body pierced by the bent steel like a fishing hook, he could not escape.

    The kind of overwhelming power that can subdue and nail a top-ranked Graduator in an instant.

    If the students of the academy who had just yed with Vikir had seen this, they would have fainted a few times.

    Vikir asked in a cold tone.

    "Now, who is your master, who made you like this?"

    [grrrr...]

    Instead of answering, Ephebo growled low. It was clear he wasn''t going to admit anything.

    (Though it was questionable if he even spoke thenguage in the first ce).

    But Vikir didn''t mind.

    "Interrogation is not always verbal."

    A lot of information can be gleaned from the body of an interrogate, the condition of their internal organs, the cement of their bones, their wounds, the freshness of their blood or the concentration of mana in their veins, and the social status of their life.

    From now on, Vikir nned to dismantle Ephebo''s entire body into pieces and dispose of them.

    Then.

    "Heehee... heehee...."

    He heard the sound of wind behind him.

    Turning his head, he saw the fat man from earlier, Nursery Director Doxeller, smiling with drool dripping from the corner of his mouth.

    "It''s him... he''sing... hee hee... face... to get my face back... don''t make a mistake."

    I could tell at a nce that he was out of his mind.

    No wonder, it was understandable for amoner to go insane after witnessing a battle between Superior Graduator and monsters at the highest level of mana explosion from a very close distance.

    Waves of mana, shockwaves, and copsing debris would have been disastrous enough for the average person.

    With that, the Doxeller began to stagger away.

    "I have to hide... I have to hide...."

    He rummaged through the rubble until his fingers were bloody.

    Eventually, he pulled out a fairly sizable vault.

    "Hmph."

    Vikir watched the scene with interest.

    Something wasing out of his subconscious that he hadn''t admitted to during his torture earlier, something that perhaps he wasn''t even aware of.

    If anything, it was a good thing that he had gone mad.

    Then.

    BEEP-BEEP-BEEP

    As he turned the dials on the vault, Doxeller suddenly stopped.

    And then.

    "Boom, boom, boom, boom!"

    Something happened.

    The doxeller''s entire body suddenly began to expand.

    As soon as Vikir felt the rushing torrent of mana, he threw himself backwards.

    And then.

    Boom!

    Dokseller''s body suddenly exploded with a loud bang.

    Apparently, the demon had ced a restriction on him to self-destruct after certain actions.

    "...Yikes."

    Vikir was out of the st''s radius, but he still took quite a bit of damage.

    The wounds were minor and he could regenerate them all with his bog smander powers, but his clothing could not.

    His cloak, shirt, and mask were half burned away.

    Vikir pulled off the gue doctor''s mask that covered his face and tossed it to the ground.

    "...."

    I turned to see Ephebo, nailed to a stone pir, had disappeared.

    Judging by the bits of flesh and guts stuck to the gritty surface of the steel, it must have been forced out with quite a bit of effort.

    It was a difficult escape for a living human to pull off.

    "Well, at least you got a harvest."

    Vikir peered into the vault that had been shattered by the self-destruct.

    Much of the vault''s contents had been preserved, thanks to the fact that Doxeller had fired the st just before he detonated, minimizing the aftermath.

    The vault contained a significant amount of gold bars, real estate documents, and jewelry.

    Probably the proceeds of selling children with nowhere else to go as food for demons.

    But Vikir didn''t care about wealth.

    What really caught his attention were the stacks of papers beyond.

    A ledger.

    They detailed the deposits of money, where children were taken from, and where they were sent.

    "This will need to be analyzed."

    Vikir crumpled the papers into his arms.

    He would mail them to Sindiwendi immediately and have her investigate.

    "Ugh! Stop working, please!

    I could already hear her singing.

    * * *

    After Vikir''s departure.

    The guards were called to the midnight disturbance.

    They looked at the ruined nursery and stuck out their tongues.

    "Looks like some giant beasts havee and stirred things up."

    "Wasn''t this nursery under the control of the Quovadis family?"

    "What kind of madman trespassed on the territory of the Faithful?"

    The guards scoured the ruins.

    But they found nothing.

    What they did find was arge amount of wealth of unknown origin in abandoned vaults.

    Why all this money was here, and where it came from, was a mystery.

    And why would the supposedly frugal branch of the Quorvadis have all this ck money?

    The investigation was inevitably prolonged, and the guards soon made a shocking discovery in the basement of the nursery.

    The bodies of children aged between 10 and 13 years old.

    Dozens of bones and skeletonsy in the ground beneath the former nursery building.

    The guards were all horrified.

    And then. Some were more surprised than others.

    "...!"

    Saintess Dolores.

    A direct descendant of the Quovadis family, student council president and newspaper editor of the Academy Colosseo.

    She had rushed over at the news that an organization affiliated with her family had been attacked.

    Students from the Academy''s newspaper department were also there to cover the event.

    Originally, the Academy''s newspaper had rules.

    First-year students only cover events inside the academy.

    Second and third year students can cover events outside the academy.

    First-year students are still too immature to go outside the academy, and they need time to adjust to the school, so their coverage is limited to the academy.

    However, in the second and third year, they were allowed to go outside the academy.

    Just like Dolores is doing now with other student journalists.

    "... what in the world."

    Dolores is speechless at the sight before her.

    A ruined nursery school, with the remains of many children.

    Who could havemitted such a senseless act?

    The guards were eager to be interviewed by student journalists.

    "By the time we arrived, it had already happened...."

    "Judging by the blood and flesh sttered everywhere, whoever attacked this ce was strong and evil...."

    "It appears to have been a one-man raid...."

    "There is a terrifying viin in the city, and simr incidents are popping up all over the ce...."

    The students at the academy took the guards'' statements seriously.

    It was an outline of tomorrow''s newspaper articles that would be distributed to the academy the next morning.

    Then.

    "...?"

    Saintess Dolores, looking around in a panic, spotted something.

    Avoiding everyone''s gaze, she went back under the pile of rubble and picked up what had fallen to the ground.

    "This is ...."

    What Dolores picked up was a half-burnt mask.

    It was a gue doctor''s mask with a stork''s beak attached.

 Chapter 140: Identity of the Villain (1)

    <h4>Chapter 140: Identity of the Viin (1)</h4>

    Back at the Academy, Vikir thought back tost night''s events.

    ''That guy with the ck sack. He must have used the blunt technique of the Quovadis, right?

    He had the word ''Ephebo'' tattooed on his chest.

    He had the skills of an advanced Graduator, so it took some effort to deal with him.

    That didn''t stop him from running away halfway through, which was a shame.

    ''Tomorrow night, I''ll have to go around even more intensely. I''ll have to hit every ce that smells like a demon, and I''m sure I''ll see him again.''

    If you don''t want toe out, you won''t be able to.

    I''m going to wipe out all the businesses the demons have set up in the human world.

    ''Demons love human blood, especially the blood of children, so we''ll focus on the most vulnerable orphanages, hospitals, and monasteries.... I need to be a Sword Master as soon as possible to make the hunt a little smoother.''

    Vikir is currently a Superior Graduator, having fully regained the strength of his former life.

    Combined with the protection of the River Styx, the magic sword Beelzebub, the Baskerville 10-style swordsmanship, and the experience gained from ying countless demons, he can now trulypete with a Sword Master.

    Considering he''s only 18 years old, there''s a lot of room for improvement.

    "First, the seventh tooth. I need to master the Baskerville seven tooth technique first....''

    Vikir was mulling over his thoughts.

    "Okay, everyone!"

    A voice snapped Vikir out of his thoughts.

    A second-year girl stood in front of the first-year students and focused their attention.

    Her nametag reads something like this.

    <Newspaper Club (Media Society Participation Club): Ryukeion (��?�ʦŦɦϦ�)>.

    Club.

    A student organization is also known as a circle, society, club, etc.

    This club, called Ryukeion, is a small newspaper club run by about 30 students.

    However, despite their small size, their influence was enormous.

    The daily newspaper, which was a mix of news from inside and outside the academy, always sold like hotcakes and was in great demand outside the academy.

    Students wanted to know what was going on inside the academy, no matter how small, as soon as possible, while parents and stakeholders outside the academy wanted to know more.

    It''s no wonder that the world''s eyes were on this group of young people, who wouldter be world changers.

    And Vikir was one of the most desperate for information.

    By day, he lives as a normal student inside the academy, hiding his identity, and by night, he''s a hunter who goes out and hunts demons.

    To do so, he must utilize the information inside the academy to the fullest.

    The only way to know what happened at night faster than the morning newspaper, and what happened during the day faster than the evening newspaper, is to join the organization that produces the morning and evening newspapers.

    A newspaper inside an academy like Ryukeion.

    ''By the way, they don''t have many members, surprisingly.''

    Vikir turned his head to look around at the scene inside the newspaper department.

    The room was filled with magical printing presses that printed mana screens onto paper, and various photographic materials.

    However, the number of people in the room was small.

    A few sophomores led the freshmen in the club. The rest were freshmen like Vikir.

    The current first-year entries for the newspaper were as follows.

    Don Quixote Tudor (ss A, Cold).

    Sinir (ss A, Hot).

    Sancho Barataria (ss A, Cold).

    Usher Bianca (ss B, Cold).

    Piggy (ss B, Cold).

    Vikir (ss B, Cold).

    In the beginning, there were more neers.

    But Ryukeion is a very demanding club, and the workload is too much for a hobby club to handle.

    Furthermore, at the academy, where exams are so rigorous that even the slightest neglect of personal study can result in a detention, it was impossible tobine schoolwork with the club unless you were extremely talented.

    Moreover, the head of the newspaper department, Saint Dolores Rune Quovadis, is known to be a workaholic, so it''s no wonder the freshmen are falling apart at the seams.

    Worse, it''s rumored that being a staff journalist for Dolores'' newspaper is harder than midterms and finals.

    The remaining freshmen were a tough bunch.

    One of the sophomores gathered the freshmen together and asked.

    "How did you guys end up in the newspaper? We''re known for our discipline here at Ryukeion."

    Tudor was the first to answer.

    "Hahaha, I''m an alpha male, so it''s no problem, academics, clubs, I can do it all!"

    It was the confidence of a top student in the Cold ss and a member of a seventh-generation family.

    Sancho was the next to speak.

    "Hmm. I stayed because I don''t want people to think I''m just a strong-minded fool. The newspaper club sounds like something intelligent, and I want to be an intelligent man."

    Everyone was a little surprised by the unexpectedly serious answer.

    Piggy was next.

    "Well, I originally like collecting and analyzing information... ... I think it''s my calling!"

    He stuttered a lot, but it was still a pretty bold ambition.

    This time, it was Sinir, a good student, who spoke up.

    "Isn''t money, information, and power inseparable in the first ce? Of those, I think information is the most dominant."

    It was an answer that urately understood the inseparable dynamics that move the world.

    Finally, Bianca spoke up.

    "Ugh. I was tricked into joining by Dolores."

    "Tricked?" Everyone looked at her in disbelief.

    Bianca hesitated for a moment before answering truthfully.

    "He told me this was a ''sniping'' club...."

    She wasn''t wrong. Every once in a while, there''s an article in the newspaper about sniping someone.

    When Bianca finished, we allughed heartily.

    One of the sophomore captains giggled and patted Bianca on the shoulder.

    "Well, by that measure, we are a sniper club. Look at this article!"

    She showed them a sports article on page two of thest issue of the morning paper.

    The magically animated photo disyed views andments.

    [Exclusive] The identity of the ''face genius'' who appeared in the first year''s Naphthali game!? / Views: 48,999

    -Last night in afternoon gym ss, a mysterious freshman was seen in a......

    <Discussions: 31,021

    ?(1st year student Cold ss): Every time this guy frowns, I also frown a can of beer... I''m upset... ???

    ??(2nd year student Hot ss): A girl like me... I was a woman like Simon*''s bed who could not be shaken even by idols from imperial capitals the size of an empire... Today, I received a serious heart attack... As a retaliatory assault, I got hit on the lips and made to pay for it once. Ask me?

    ??(1st year student Hot ss): I''ll watch this video even when I''m a granny.

    ??(1st year student Hot ss): My oppa whose name I don''t know... I want to make a promise to my oppa that I will live and die just for today while smoking cigarettes on the veranda of the 10th floor of my private vi in the imperial capital...��

    ??(2nd year student Hot ss): I heard that this person''s MBTI test result is SEXY...? ????? Take me away...

    ??(1st year student Cold ss): A person who wants to be crushed by this mysterious newbie''s brow wrinkles

    ??(1st year student Cold ss): 2 ppl.

    ??(3rd year student Hot ss): 3 persons

    ??(2nd year student Cold ss): I thought his name was Vikir.

    ??(1st year student Cold ss): ...Let me stain your life with my name...

    ??(4th year student Hot ss): Mmmm... What''s a beauty ss? What a joke...

    ??(3rd year student Hot ss): Don''t like Vikir/What is that?/Don''t like Vikir/How do you do that?

    ??(4th year student Cold ss): Oppa... Oppa Vikir... Even though you are younger than me, you are my eternal oppa... I keep crying because of you, so a new bigke was built in our territory...

    .

    .

    Crazy results with almost 50,000 views and 30,000ments.

    Upon seeing the article, Tudor and Sancho burst outughing.

    "Wahahahahaha! Hey, Vikir, this is the day, right? Our Naphtali day!"

    "...."

    Vikir put his hand to his forehead and sighed lightly.

    Meanwhile, Bianca''s head is turned away with a pathetic expression on her face, and Sinir is staring at the newspaper article with Vikir''s picture on it.

    Piggy was staring enviously at Vikir, who seemed to have made friends with Tudor and Sancho.

    Just then.

    The door to the club burst open, and Ryukeion from the newspaper department walked in.

    "Hey, guys!"

    St. Dolores, the head of Ryukeion, called the meeting to order with her usual enthusiasm.

    She gathered the first, second, and third year students together and began to discuss what would be published in today''s evening paper.

    "Last night, the second and third year reporters went outside the academy to do some reporting. They got good stories, we just need to decide on a headline."

    Dolores ced the finished articles on the table.

    The articles covered the following topics.

    [unpublished article] / Views: 0

    -Latest night, October 0, at dawn. A mysterious assant appeared and ransacked a nursery school in 00...

    Unusually, the attacker didn''t touch the riches in the vault...

    The conclusion was that it was not the actions of a person with whom he had a grudge. ...

    Nothing is known about his identity, what his objectives are, or what his fighting strength is...

    The damage done to the nursery in this incident is untold...

    The number of girls between the ages of 10 and 13 who died unjustly is only confirmed...

    Meanwhile, no officialment has been made by the imperial family and the Quovadis of the Faithful on the matter...

    <Comments: 0>.

    Last night, an unknown assant broke into an orphanage on the outskirts of the Imperial City, killing the director and a number of poor, parentless children and leaving the neighborhood in shambles.

    He didn''t touch any of the gold or jewelry in the vault, and his intentions were purely murderous.

    ...Well, it goes something like this.

    Vikir looked at it and thought.

    ''There''s a lot of misunderstanding here.''

    The demons had killed the girls, not Vikir.

    However, the imperial guards who arrivedte seemed to have judged that Vikir was responsible for the demons'' actions.

    ''It doesn''t matter, we''re not going to get caught, but we need to run the data on this nursery raid through Sindiwendi to see if it''s connected to Viscount Gambino''s ve auction, which I robbed earlier.''

    While the rest of the newspaper staff was trying to figure out what to call the story, Vikir was thinking about something else entirely.

    Meanwhile, serious discussions continue around the table.

    Everyone was eager to put their own headline on the front page of a newspaper that would be seen by the entire nation.

    "Fearsome Viin Born!?"

    "Outside the academy, a monster stirs up the imperial capital!"

    "What is the Imperial Guard up to!"

    "An Unprecedented Viin Challenges the Quovadis!?"

    "Girls, mysteriously going to their deaths. Who''s Behind It?"

    The titles are tantalizing.

    But none of them hit the spot, and the debate stalled.

    The smart newspaper staffers quickly realized what was holding them back.

    "Oh, we don''t have a name for the viin yet!"

    "That''s right, it''s not as if we can call him a viin or a viinous criminal!"

    "Let''s give him a nickname first!"

    Often, heinous criminals are given ominous nicknames such as "King of the Cave," "Son of the Fountain," "Murder King," "Human Snow White," "Bluebeard," and so on.

    So we needed a catchy nickname for this viin, too.

    Someone who suddenly and unexpectedly appeared one day and terrorized the night of the Imperial City.

    A viin of epic proportions who brutally murders prominent dignitaries of society, or mercenaries whose names are widely known, and then disappears like a ghost, leaving no clues behind.

    What should we call this unprecedented viin?

    The students of the newspaper department were excited and participated in a nickname contest.

    "Since the incident took ce in District, how about ''The Wolf of District''?"

    "Well, the raids and murders didn''t just happen in the district. How about ''Nightcrawler of Misfortune''?"

    "Too long. How about ''orphaned predator''? It''s more impactful."

    "''Orphan'' is too discriminatory and demeaning. If we''re going to go with that, let''s go with ''nursery raider''."

    "But orphanages aren''t the only facilities that have been attacked. There''s been monasteries, hospitals, ces of worship, and even district offices. How about ''Mr. Terrorist''!"

    "Hmmm, this is a little tricky."

    There was a lot of discussion, but nothing really stuck.

    "...."

    "...."

    "...."

    Just when everyone''s opinions were lulled into silence.

    Saintess Dolores murmured softly, unconsciously.

    "...The Night Hound."

 Chapter 141: Identity of the Villain (2)

    <h4>Chapter 141: Identity of the Viin (2)</h4>

    Dolores was deep in thought aboutst night''s events.

    ''...That mask I picked up yesterday, I''m sure I''ve seen it before.''

    That''s right.

    Dolores had gotten the call yesterday that the Imperial Guard was on its way, and in her capacity as Saintess of the Quovadis and head of the Academy''s newspaper department, she had quickly responded.

    She saw with her own eyes the devastation she had witnessed, the deaths of so many people and the destruction of so many buildings.

    Buildings were lying in ruins as if arge amount of explosives had been set off, and the remains of mummified boys and girls were found beneath the ruins of the nursery school, their blood drained from their bodies.

    The second- and third-year student journalists with me, and even the imperial guards, had never seen anything quite like it.

    ...And there was a half-burnt mask lying nearby.

    Dolores moved stealthily and picked it up, hiding it in her arms from the sound of the footsteps behind her.

    ''It must have belonged to Mr. Night Hound, why would he be there....''

    She thought back to the first time she met the Night Hound.

    He hade to recover from a vacation at the academy.

    A man who stood out amongst the visits of greedy, lowly nobles.

    ''He''s ...just a lostmb.''

    I remember the first time I saw him, he bowed his head in humility, not boasting of his prestige or wealth.

    Later, the Night Hound worked tirelessly to treat slum dwellers affected by the gue, the Red Death.

    Though his appearance, identity, and behavior were questionable, his love and dedication to the less fortunate was genuine.

    As proof, he even tapped into the divine power of the runes in a small way.

    "The mask I picked up yesterday must have been his, because it had all the marks and bloodstains of a Red Death victim''s struggle.

    Dolores was certain that the half-burnt mask she had hidden in her arms was the one worn by the Night Hound.

    But why was he at the scene of yesterday''s tragedy?

    Had he really killed the director of the orphanage and harmed the boys and girls in it?

    ''... But why the good man?''

    I do not believe that the image of the night hound treating the poor of St Ma, the noble and holy image of treating people despite being covered in all kinds of filth, was just acting.

    She has always believed that the Night Hound, who stole the Saint''s tears at the end, must have been doing so for a cause.

    "Could it really be him, the Night Hound? No, it can''t be, my eyes are urate, he''s not a wicked man, and if he is the culprit... surely, surely there must be something going on.''

    Dolores felt her head begin to ache.

    The mask in her arms must be evidence ofst night''s murder, and by hiding it from the guards, she was guilty of destroying evidence.

    She had no excuse, no aplice, for letting her personal feelings interfere with the investigation.

    So Dolores had been suffering sincest night for the trust she had ced in the Night Hound, and for the guilt of hindering the Guard''s investigation by hiding him.

    ''Did I really do the right thing by hiding that mask? Was I doing the right thing?''

    She thought about it when she woke up, when she bathed, when she ate, when she was in ss, and even now, here, at the club meeting.

    Even.

    ''By the way... I don''t know if Mr. Night Hound will be okay. It seems like he was caught in a huge explosion that burned half of his mask off, and even though he''s a very strong man, if he wasn''t able to defend himself properly, I wonder where he is now... and what he''s doing? I wonder if he''s seriously injured and suffering somewhere....''

    I''m even worried about that.

    Dolores didn''t know why she was worried about him now, not even the underlying reason.

    Then.

    "''Night Hound''... sounds good!"

    A voice next to her broke Dolores out of her reverie.

    "Huh?"

    Dolores looked up to see a group of second- and third-year students already busily working.

    Whirring, whirring, whirring.

    The newspapers that will be distributed today were already being torn out.

    ??

    Dolores turned her head with a dazed expression, and Piggy beside her gave a thumbs up.

    "I think I like the nickname ''Night Hound'', it''s a bit barbaric, but that''s what makes it all the more violent, isn''t it?"

    "Mmmm. I think so, too. There''s something sinister about it."

    "I''m afraid I agree. It''s always happened at night."

    Tudor and Sancho nodded in agreement with Piggy.

    Sinir and Bianca nod as well.

    "I agree with you, boss!"

    "Me too."

    Dolores turned her head in confusion.

    "What did I just mutter to myself, ...?"

    And then he saw the stacks of finished newspapers.

    [The Night Hound, the viin who terrorized the Imperial City, who is he!?] / Views: 0

    -In the early hours of the night on October 0. A mysterious assant appeared and ravaged the nursery school of 00...

    Unusually, the attacker did not touch the riches in the vault...

    <Comments: 0>

    Dolores eximed in anger.

    "What, what is this!"

    Piggy replied with a cheerful expression.

    "You nicknamed him the ''Night Hound,'' and we all thought it was a good idea, so we went right ahead!"

    "Oh, no, when did I say that, really?"

    Dolores asked in disbelief, and everyone nodded in agreement.

    In a matter of minutes, things hade together.

    Dolores looked at the stacks of newspapers and sighed heavily.

    "Guys, we still don''t have any confirmation that he''s the killer, and with a headline like that, it just looks like a story written for views."

    Then Tudor, Sancho, Sinir, Bianca, and others questioned.

    "Oh, there''s testimony from the guards, but whatever. They said they were pretty sure that the Night Hound smashed up the building and killed the orphanage director, and there''s some physical evidence, too."

    "Well, the boys and girls looked like they''d been dead for a long time... but I don''t think that would happen in a nursery under the direct control of the Quovadis family. I think it''s much more believable that the Night Hound did it."

    "You''re trying to remain neutral, since you''re from the Quovadis family. I''m impressed, but with this much certainty, I think we can go with it for now."

    "''Night Hound'' or whatever, as soon as you''re in my sights, I''ll take you down with an arrow!"

    The first years chatter excitedly.

    Dolores sighed heavily.

    He felt guilty that his mistake had brought the honor of the Night Hound into disrepute.

    But the others had a point.

    Whether the Night Hound is indeed a viin or not, and if he is, what happened to his formerly clear-eyed, flesh-and-blood charity, and if he is not, what happened to the bodies of the boys and girls found in the orphanage controlled by the Quovadis, and the vast riches of unknown origin.

    Everything is jumbled.

    Only Dolores knows the true nature of the phenomenon behind the phenomenon, and she is confused.

    Finally, she made a judgment call.

    "I need to make some changes to the article. Make it as objective and unbiased as possible. Take out any unsubstantiated spective statements from the Imperial Guard''s interviews."

    "Yes, but then I won''t have anything to write about?"

    "If you''re not sure, don''t bet on it. It''s not toote to run a scathing article when it''s clear what the Night Hounds are up to, and then we''ll be able to criticize them with real vigor."

    Dolores said, and the others nodded.

    Bianca nodded in agreement.

    "If the director says so, then so be it."

    "...I agree."

    Sinir nodded as well.

    Sancho and Piggy quickly shut down the tuning fork and began to modify the articles.

    But the heroic Tudor was still a little unhappy.

    Tudor turned to Vikir, whom he had gotten to know over the course of the Naphtali Games, and asked in a low voice.

    "Hey, buddy, what do you think?"

    "...what do you mean?"

    "The Night Hound. He looks like a viin to me. What do you think?"

    "I don''t think so."

    "Oh,e on. How can you not think about it? Is he a viin or does he have something going on?"

    Vikir thought for a moment before answering.

    ''Am I a viin?''

    Countless faces shed through his mind.

    The world of destruction, the hell that would unfold within the next decade, the faces of so many he had failed to protect.

    The end of colleagues,rades-in-arms, friends, older brothers, younger sisters, and all the people you miss and love.

    How could he be anything but a sinner, carrying their lives and sacrifices on his shoulders anding back alive alone.

    So Vikir was able to say firmly.

    "He''s a viin for sure."

    Because he was never a good man.

    ...?

    The Tudor who asked the question is unusually quiet.

    "?"

    Vikir looked up.

    He saw the confused looks on Tudor''s face and the shaky gazes of the other new students.

    They were all staring at Vikir''s back.

    Vikir turned his head to see Dolores''s face staring down at him with a cold gaze.

    "What have you been listening to all this time, that the Night Hound is a viin?"

    How did they get this far?

    Dolores, who just happened to be walking by, asks you coldly if you heard the entire conversation between Tudor and Vikir.

    "...."

    When Vikir doesn''t answer, she repeats herself.

    "You may miss ten thieves, but don''t make one innocent citizen. No matter how circumstantial the evidence, find thest hard evidence you can, and then report it."

    "...."

    "If the ''pen is mightier than the sword'', then the pen should be heavier than the sword. You should take responsibility as a journalist from now on. Don''t just blurt out things you''re not sure about without thinking."

    Dolores''s words, which are directed at Vikir, cause the entire freshman ss to tense up.

    But Vikir just sits there with a nonchnt expression on his face.

    Dolores, who was even more displeased with his attitude, added a sarcastic remark.

    "I thought your name was Vikir. Are you even tardy anymore?"

    Vikir had been photographed by Dolores since the beginning of the semester and had received several detentions.

    But when Vikir remained silent, Dolores took a deep breath as if to say something more.

    "Anyway, new students these days are the best... ... When I was... ... ."

    Then. A sophomore member burst into the club room, looking for Dolores.

    "Boss! "The Club advisor Professor Banshee wants to see you for a moment!"

    "What? Why?"

    "Because of this article! He wants me to revise the article to say that Night Hound is definitely evil!"

    "Haha... he''s a conservative and likes to make enemies on the outside. Okay, I''ll talk to him."

    Dolores wrapped up the conversation.

    He followed the sophomore out of the clubhouse to meet with Professor Banshee.

    Only then did the stale air in the room release.

    Tudor breathed a sigh of relief and patted Vikir on the shoulder.

    "I''m talking about you and the director. You seem like a bit of an old man."

    "... ... It was like that in the old days."

    "A long ago? when?"

    "There was a time when it was just like that."

    Vikir only smiles faintly.

    ''Why don''t you push the pdin line tighter? They''re so irreligious these days!''

    ''The younger ones are slipping away, and I want them to y at least one more demon in their spare time!''

    ''Back in my day, if a demon came out, I''d just run straight to it and bang!''

    ''You''re stronger! Charge!''

    ''Heroes don''t die!''

    Before he regressed, Dolores was in her 30s, leading the Pdins on the front lines of the Battlefield of Destruction.

 Chapter 142: Identity of the Villain (3)

    <h4>Chapter 142: Identity of the Viin (3)</h4>

    Another new day has begun.

    At 6 a.m., the students wake up to the sound of the wake-up call and head to the field in front of the dormitory building.

    The field is divided in half, one side for women and one side for men. All wearing gray sweats.

    They follow the gymnastic movements of the instructor standing at the front, shaking off thest of their sleep into the cold early morning air.

    Afterward, when the exercise is over, the students disperse.

    Some go back to sleep to catch up on their sleep, some head straight to the bathhouse, and some head straight to the dining hall.

    For the girls, some head straight for the long process of applying makeup.

    The academy''s baths are quiterge and well-equipped, with cold, hot, and even a sauna.

    After passing through the locker rooms smelling of pungent foot odor, a dip in the hot water and the early morning chill in the air would not only help you sleep, but also revive your appetite.

    As roommates, Vikir and Piggy headed straight for the bath after gymnastics.

    "Ugh, the air is so cold at this time of day. Please don''t make me do early morning gymnastics, I think my brain could use a little more sleep at that hour...."

    Piggy, a morning person, grunts like his entire body is falling apart during every gymnastics session.

    Vikirforts him as he heads to the bathhouse.

    Two people see them and wave to them.

    They were Tudor and Sancho, who were also sharing a room.

    "Hey, Vikir and Piggy. You came straight to the bathhouse again today."

    "Yeah. Ie right after gymnastics so the showers are free. We have to wait in line for the showers after breakfast."

    Tudor and Sancho follow Vikir to the showers and get into the hot water.

    "What are you guys going to do after your bath, eat right away?"

    "I don''t have an appetite today, so I''m skipping it. I''m going straight to the lecture hall to catch up on my assignments."

    "I''m going to sleep a little longer and eat just before the cafeteria closes. That way I can eat a lot of leftovers. What''s the side dish today, anyway?"

    Piggy, Tudor, and Sancho are deep in discussion about what to do with their morning.

    That''s when Vikir chimes in.

    "I''m going straight for the food."

    It''s always the same pattern for Vikir.

    He doesn''t change his ns based on other people''s schedules and always walks his own way.

    Piggy, Tudor, and Sancho thought for a moment before nodding.

    "I guess I''ll go eat, then."

    "Hmm. Now that I think about it, I''ll be hungry until lunch if I skip it. I should eat too!"

    "Right. You''re going to eat right away, and I''ll join you. Rice tastes better together."

    Vikir''s consistent lifestyle was quickly bing a standard for his friends.

    Whether consciously or unconsciously.

    At exactly ten minutes, Vikir got out of the tub, showered, and left the bathhouse.

    Piggy, Tudor, and Sancho did the same.

    Tudor shook his head as they left the bath.

    "That''s weird."

    "What?"

    Sancho asked, and Tudor smirked.

    "That Vikir guy. When you''re with him, you naturally stand next to him."

    "Is that so?"

    "It is. It''s like you''re looking at a big brother, or an older brother. Is it because I don''t have an older brother in the house?"

    "Yeah. He''s always moving like a machine. I think it''s good that we move together because it keeps me on track. It''s something to emte."

    "I''d like to get to know him a little better, but he''s a bit stiff. He doesn''t let go easily."

    "Time will tell, we''ll be seeing each other for the next four years."

    It was the same for Piggy, who was listening to Tudor and Sancho''s conversation.

    ''Vikir is amazing.''

    Tudor, a highly retarded member of the Don Quixote family, and Sancho, a schrship student from the Northern Mercenary Guild, both want to get to know him first.

    He even studies well and is popr with the girls.

    He''s even kind enough to help someone who was struggling in a talent show.

    Piggy thought he was lucky to be roommates with someone like that.

    ''I should be a good roommate to make Vikir feel lucky to have me.''

    Just as Piggy was saying to himself.

    "Hey. Piggy."

    Vikir, walking at a steady pace in front of him, suddenly stops and looks over.

    Tudor and Sancho, who were walking next to him, also stopped and looked back.

    "Ugh, huh?"

    Piggy asked, a little confused, and Vikir gestured toward him.

    "Why are youing from behind like that. Walk a little faster, we''re supposed to be working on our morning ss assignment together."

    Vikir said, ncing to his side.

    Suddenly, Piggy''s face lit up.

    "Yeah! I''ll go! My leg hurt for a second...."

    "Your leg? Did you hurt it?"

    "No! It doesn''t hurt now!"

    Piggy rushed over and stood next to Vikir with a look of pride on his face.

    Then Tudor and Sancho say something to Piggy, too.

    "Did you hurt your leg in gymnastics? Where does it hurt?"

    "Small injuries should not be taken lightly. I''ll give you some of the herbal juice I brought from the north. It''s a salve that even works on broken bones."

    Piggy smiled brightly at his two new friends'' concern.

    Something sprouted in Piggy''s chest, an unfounded confidence that he could make it through the next four years.

    * * *

    Later, after bathing, they went to the dining hall for breakfast.

    Bread and cereal, grilled corn and pineapple, and some nched vegetables.

    There are also sausages, chicken, fried eggs, and grilled octopus legs, but few people eat a full breakfast.

    There wasn''t as much separation between boys and girls as there was in the cafeteria, but first-year boys and girls generally sat far apart.

    After breakfast, Vikir headed straight for the lecture hall.

    Piggy, Tudor, and Sancho walked beside him, side by side.

    Then.

    Tudor suddenly stopped walking and called out to Vikir.

    "Huh? Wait a minute. Hey, Vikir, this is the way to the main staircase, and we can''t go there because it''s only for professors and fourth years!"

    "...."

    That was something Vikir already knew.

    Except.

    ''I''ll have to find the least traveled way out of the academy at night so we can use it to get back in.''

    As a matter of strategy, Vikir had checked out every single passageway in every single building in the academy.

    As a result, even though it was early in the semester, he had a pretty good idea of theyout of the Academy''s buildings.

    Of course.

    "Beep, freshman, why are you taking the central staircase?"

    It also put him at a huge disadvantage in terms of his lifestyle score.

    Then, the face of the person who had warned Vikir drew closer.

    Dolores Rune Quovadis. The student council president had spotted Vikir and given him a detention.

    When Dolores recognized Vikir''s bushy bangs, horn-rimmed sses, and face, she ced her hands on her hips in wonder.

    "Vikir. Is it you again?"

    "I''m sorry, ma''am. I''m a stray."

    "This central staircase is where the professors and seniors do their research. How many times have I told you that it''s off-limits to freshmen, not only because it''s supposed to be quiet, but because there are many experimental areas that are ssified or downright dangerous?"

    "I''m sorry."

    "There''s no such thing as a junior in the club, it''s a demerit."

    Dolores wrote down Vikir''s demerits and the reasons for them in her magic journal.

    <Vikir-Life Attitude Points (Demerit Factors)

    -1 point for using the emergency exit on the third floor of the dormitory building.

    -1 point for entering the 4th grade private area of the performance hall

    -1 point for using the central staircase on the 1st floor of the blind readingb building

    -1 point for entering the smoking area of the Experimental Monster Breeding Center

    -1 point for using the central staircase on the 6th floor of the Faculty Research Center

    -1 point for using the central staircase on the 3rd floor of the Hot ss.

    -1 point for entering the physical training room after hours.

    -Entering the restricted area next to the cafeteria food warehouse -1 point.

    .

    .

    The demerits were already piling up.

    Dolores looked at it and opened her mouth in disbelief.

    "...You''re a very poorly behaved child, aren''t you?"

    A stunned Piggy, Tudor, and Sancho stepped forward and apologized to Dolores.

    "S-sorry! We should have told you!"

    "Oh, well, he''s such a stray."

    "We''ll take better care of him next time. Hey, when did you get so many demerits...."

    They all looked back at Vikir and gestured for him to keep his head down.

    But Dolores wasn''t about to be deterred by their pleas.

    "No, no. Your demerits are out of line, Vikir, and you have to do mandatorymunity service this weekend."

    I had already donemunity service several times over the weekend.

    I don''t know why, but it was because Professor Morg Banshee had a thing for me.

    Dolores'' punishment was a little off the mark for Vikir.

    "If your demerits were at a certain level, I would end it withmunity service, but... you deserve more than that. Azy kid with a bad attitude like you won''t be able to get away withmunity service."

    "...If that''s the case."

    "Then what, you''re off-campus service!"

    Hearing Dolores'' words, Piggy, Tudor, and Sancho covered their faces with their hands.

    Vikir had crossed the river of no return.

    Everyone looked back at Vikir with pity.

    Off-campus service.

    This is not the kind of service that involves cleaning toilets on the weekends or working a few shifts in the cafeteria.

    You have to go to a facility outside the academy, like a hospital, monastery, or orphanage, and do odd jobs throughout the holidays.

    This weekend happened to be a ten-day long golden holiday with a long weekend, the school''s anniversary, and Easter celebrations.

    Unfortunately for Vikir, he was sentenced to forcedbor during this time.

    "You have over a week to reflect on your volunteer work. If you''re lucky, your demerits will be reset on thest day, depending on what the heads of the institutions think."

    Dolores looked Vikir up and down with a cold gaze, then turned and walked away.

    Tudor and Sancho looked back at Vikir and offered words offort.

    "Looks like you''ve got some ugly hairs on your back from that club thing. Cheer up, boy."

    "You mean your opinion that the Night Hound is a viin? I personally support your opinion, Vikir. I do not understand the saintess''s reaction."

    Piggy, meanwhile, spoke in a pitying tone.

    "Vikir. I''m going to tell you where you''re going to do yourmunity service this time. You need to know where you''re going so you can prepare yourself."

    Piggy was a wealth of information.

    He knew where the academy''s troublemakers and flunkies were sent formunity service.

    "This time, you''ll be going to the Indulgentia Children''s Home."

    "Indulgentia Home?"

    Vikir, Tudor, and Sancho repeated, and Piggy nodded.

    "It''s a orphanage run by the Indulgentia family, a branch of the Quodavis family, and its director is the founder of the Orphanage Foundation, as well as an outside instructor at the Academy."

    "The director? Who is that?"

    Vikir asked in a serious tone, and Piggy tilted his head once before answering.

    "Guilty L Indulgentia, head of the House of Indulgentia, an outer rtion of House Quovadis."

    Vikir''s eyes narrowed at those words.

    Guilty. Householder of House Indulgentia.

    A man whose name he had recognized many times before, even in the reports sent by Sindiwendi.

    He was Vikir''s next assassination target.

 Chapter 143: Volunteering for the Golden Week (1)

    <h4>Chapter 143: Volunteering for the Golden Week (1)</h4>

    The ten-day-long holiday has begun.

    A weekend, the school''s anniversary, and the Rune Church''s Easter celebration. Combine that with the ss schedule, and it was a golden holiday that couldst for more than a week straight.

    From the beginning of the semester, everyone was happy to have such a long holiday.

    First-year students enjoy traveling around the Imperial City to get to know their ssmates better and invite them to their homes.

    Sophomores and seniors traveled to secluded ces to catch up on assignments, study for exams, or just to rest their tired bodies.

    Fourth-year students study hard on weekdays and holidays, as they are close to graduation and employment.

    ...And here, despite being a freshman, there was one person who was forced to work hard.

    Vikir. He was the hound of the Ironbloods.

    p-p- p-p-

    Day one ofmunity service. Vikir was washing a mop.

    At Indulgentia, arge orphanage on the outskirts of the Imperial City, with arge number of children, there is a never-ending stream of tasks.

    Cleaning,undry, cooking, feeding, washing dishes, carrying equipment, repairing facilities, ying with children, etc. ....

    While on-campus volunteering can be supported by professional staff, off-campus volunteering has no such support.

    You have to do everything yourself.

    During the holidays, when the students at the academy are resting or ying, Vikir finds herself living here, doing all the dirty work.

    And of course.

    "Hey, Vikir, you should be grateful, we''re here for the holidays too!"

    "Well, I have to fulfill my volunteer hours anyway due to the Academy''s noblesse oblige policy, so I might as well do it now."

    "Me, I''m fine with it, I always liked to domunity service!"

    Tudor, Sancho, and Piggy. These loyal friends followed Vikir.

    Vikir nodded silently.

    "Thank you."

    Everyone was surprised to hear a thank you from the usually reserved and blunt Vikir.

    "Uhhhhhhh."

    "Hmmmmmmmm."

    "Hehehehe."

    Tudor, Sancho, and Piggy giggled and started sucking on the mop together.

    Vikir looked at them and smiled weakly.

    No matter how much they tried to act grown-up, they were still kids who had just turned 18, cheerful kids who could make a friend''s day with a simple thank you.

    But not so with Vikir himself.

    His tattered soul, the weight of life he carries, doesn''t allow him to smile easily.

    As Vikir mopped the corridor where the orphanage children yed, he kept thinking, thinking, thinking.

    ''Yesterday, I ended up in the newspaper.''

    Vikir recalled the newspaper that had been created at the Academy, and then the articles that had begun to appear in newspapers across the Imperium.

    [The Night Hound, the viin who terrorized the Imperial Capital, who is he?]

    -Last night, on the 0th day of the month, at dawn. A mysterious assant appeared and ransacked a orphanage in 00...

    Unusually, the attacker did not touch the riches in the vault...

    [Faithful Saint in Peril Is everything okay as it is!?]

    -The orphanage, monastery, and hospital managed by the Faithful Saint Quovadis family are in a series of crises...

    Meanwhile, within the Quovadis family, the Old Order and New Order factions are currently at odds...

    Meanwhile, some have criticized the government for being slow to respond to the terrorist attacks due to the family''s internal politics...

    [Old Order vs New Order, Quovadis family quarrel brings terrorists!?]

    -The civil war within the Quovadis family is intensifying. This long-running confrontation began with the controversy between Cardinal Humbert of the Old Order and Cardinal Martin Luther of the New Order...

    The conflict between the Old Order faction and the New Order faction is truly old, and these two factions are concerned about whether or not it is legitimate for the denomination to sell ''indulgences'' and ''indulgences.'' ...

    As a result, citizens are bing increasingly concerned about the dy in the investigation to catch the terrorists...

    [Is the ''Night''s Hound'' a real viin?]

    -Citizens of the city are on edge over the appearance of a monster that has been stalking the streets of the Imperial City...

    However, some have continued to question whether this viin really exists...

    Why is it that only welfare organizations under the jurisdiction of the Quovadis family are being attacked? Could this be the result of a power struggle within the Quovadis family...

    It''s no secret that there is a long-standing feud between the Old Order and New Order factions within the Quovadis family...

    It remains to be seen if this is the result of a conflict between the Old and New Order, or whether a truly rare demon has appeared... ...

    .

    .

    Vikir pored over the newspaper articles.

    Thanks to Piggy, it was easy to gather newspapers from all over the Imperial City.

    Vikir pieced together the information he''d gathered from Piggy and the information Sindiwendi had sent him.

    The conclusion.

    The ces Vikir had raided in disguise as the Night Hound had all coincidentally been linked to the Faithful Quovadis.

    "If we''re just following the scent of the demon, and only certain groups get caught, then we have a problem.

    Vikir remembers themonalities of the men he''s killed so far.

    Unidentified money, the bodies of young boys and girls, and beasts whose faces melted after they died.

    They wore the masks of religious organizations, but it was clear that the demons lurked underneath.

    Like in Set Les Baskervilles.

    ''...And the most suspicious one is in this orphanage.''

    Vikir nced up from his mopping.

    A portrait of the director hung at the top of the hallway wall.

    A gentle, middle-aged face.

    A sculpted, handsome man who, in his younger days, must have struck a chord with thedies. He even bore a striking resemnce to a famous theater actor who had recently retired.

    House Indulgentia, a branch of House Quovadis and a clerical family of the same rune religion.

    In addition to being the patriarch of House Indulgentia, Guilty is also the director of the Indulgentia Orphanage .

    It''s probably thergest orphanage in the Imperial Capital.

    But what''s the point in all that?

    ''...Only one thing matters.''

    He''s the target of Vikir''s assassination.

    It''s the Golden Week, so the window is wide open.

    Now that he''s managed to sneak into his target''sir, all that''s left is to get to work.

    Vikir used the excuse of cleaning to move from room to room, carefully studying theyout of the building.

    ''For an orphanage, this building is incredibly strong.''

    Vikir mopped, estimating the number of rebars in the stone columns.

    The orphanage was sturdy enough to be used as a military facility.

    The orphanage''s recruitment process was also a bit unusual: instead of taking in children from small local orphanages, the orphanage put out notices so that children woulde to them from far away.

    Because the facilities were so good and the welfare was so good, many children came to the center voluntarily, so it was difficult to keep track of how many children came and how many left.

    At the end of the day, no one could tell if the numbers on the books were off by a zero or two.

    ''The more orphans you have, the more money you get, so no one would think you''d under-report the number of kids.''

    A typical orphanage would exaggerate the number of children they have in order to inte their funding.

    So most audits are focused on whether there are fewer children than there are on paper.

    The demons are the opposite.

    It''s in their interest to falsely im to have fewer orphans and receive more.

    That way, they can drain the blood without turning around.

    Vikir notes the number of children in the Indulgentia orphanage, which appears to be much higher than the paperwork indicates.

    While some praise Guilty for lending a helping hand to as many children as possible without seeking funding..., Vikir has a different opinion.

    ''Boys and girls under the age of 13, runaways, unrted, unregistered births... all of whom are difficult to trace.''

    In just one day, Vikir had noticed a number of suspicious things about the ce.

    And the intense smell of the demon wafting through the entire orphanage only solidified his conviction.

    ''I''m going to start seeing blood tonight.''

    As Vikir was formting his murderous n in his mind.

    "Hey, hey, hey...."

    A voice interrupted Vikir''s reverie.

    "?"

    Vikir turned his head to see an unexpected figure standing there.

    A short, gray-haired woman, her hair fluffy like a puppy''s.

    A female student, neatly dressed in the academy''s uniform despite it being a holiday, was looking at him.

    Vikir knew her name.

    No, no first-year student at the Academy could possibly not know her.

    Sinir. Head of the Hot ss.

    For some reason, she is here doing volunteer work.

 Chapter 144: Volunteering for the Golden Week (2)

    <h4>Chapter 144: Volunteering for the Golden Week (2)</h4>

    "Uh, excuse me..."

    Sinir appeared out of nowhere and addressed Vikir with an awkward respect.

    When Vikir stared at her, wondering what was going on, Sinir stammered.

    "Um, Mr. Vikir, did you sign up for regr volunteer work here as well?"

    "No."

    "Uh-huh, then why are you here...?"

    "I''m here for demerits."

    "...ah."

    At Vikir''s short answer, Sinir nodded.

    "Well, I''m nning to do some regrmunity service, and even though I have to do it to earn merit points, I feel good and aplished after helping someone less fortunate, so I''m doing it...."

    "I see."

    Vikir nodded once, not really interested in Sinir''s personal life, and turned to leave.

    Sinir, however, followed Vikir closely and kept talking.

    "By the way, it''s a coincidence that we''re both volunteering at the same ce."

    "It is."

    "Actually, I saw you signing up to volunteerst week, but I didn''t realize we were going to the same ce."

    "I see."

    "Vikir can be reached at..."

    Sinir giggles, not sure what''s so funny, even as Vikir continues to give short answers.

    Vikir interrupts Sinir.

    "Rx, you look about my age."

    "...Ah, actually, I''m 17. I''m a year younger than Mr. Vikir."

    "It doesn''t matter."

    Vikir nodded, and Sinir''s expression brightened even more.

    "If that... be the case, I''ll make it easy for you!"

    "Okay. Let''s make it easy next time."

    Vikir thought he''d ended the conversation gently enough, and left the room.

    To wash the mop.

    Sinir, however, followed him closely this time.

    While Vikir went into the men''s bathroom to wash the mop, Sinir stood in the doorway of the men''s bathroom and red at him.

    ''Thank goodness she didn''t follow me into the men''s bathroom.''

    Sinir waited patiently in the doorway until Vikir was finished with the mop, then slipped in beside him.

    "Look. I thought you were just trying to keep track of your service credits when you turned in that volunteer form on your day off."

    "I was forced to submit it. I''ve umted too many demerits."

    "Well, I see. I knew you were a good student, so I figured there was something to this."

    Sinir continued to stare at Vikir as he spoke.

    With a light sigh, Vikir said.

    "I''m in a hurry, so if you want to ask me something, do it quickly."

    "Ugh! Can I?"

    Sinir asked excitedly,ing up beside Vikir.

    She began to blurt out the questions she had been dying to ask.

    "How do you study?"

    "How many hours a day do you study?"

    "How much time do you devote to practicing and reviewing?"

    "Did you get the new Introduction to Magic genealogy that came out this time? Shall I show you?"

    "What are you majoring in Cold ss?"

    "Swordsmanship, ah, did the professor in charge of swordsmanship at the Cold ss teach you well?"

    "You got all the questions right on thest Cold ss essay. I only got one question wrong. How did you solve it? It was beyond the level of an undergraduate student."

    "Oh, by the way, did you see the ''Ethics in Dissection'' section on the lecture notes for Animal Biology A? What do you think of the controversy over the solution?"

    "Ummm, again... ah, I had a lot of questions, but I can''t think of them when the timees."

    "Then how do you know everything so well? Did you get an early education?"

    "You didn''t? Wow- that''s amazing, so where did you go to school before you joined the academy?"

    "I don''t know if I should ask you this, and you don''t have to answer if it offends you. I heard that you''re amoner, but what region are you from?"

    "Oh, but do you have bad eyes? Those sses look really high. Oh, they''re not as high as I thought, then why are you wearing sses?"

    "Is your hairstyle intentional? Oh, you just let it grow. Are you ever going to cut your bangs or slick them back? Oh, no?"

    .

    .

    Most of the questions were about studying.

    Vikir answered in a dry tone, but continued to do his chores like sweeping the hallways, doingundry, and taking out the trash.

    Sinir followed closely behind him, eager to help out.

    When the chores were done, Sinir rummaged through the squadron on his back and held out a bottle of milk to Vikir.

    "Here, drink this while you work!"

    "...."

    Vikir took the bottle and looked down at Sinir for a moment.

    "...?"

    Sinir looks back up at Vikir, still with the same nk expression.

    Vikir realized that if he left her alone, she would follow him around all day and bother him, so he slipped away.

    "I''ll have a drink. Bye."

    "Oh, where are you going? Let me help you!"

    "To the bathroom."

    Sinir''s face instantly turned bright red when she realized what Vikir had said.

    "Uh, uh, that''s a little hard to help with, so go ahead and go~"

    Sinir said, standing against the wall of the restroom hallway.

    It looked like he was going to wait for Vikir toe out from doing his business(?).

    * * *

    Vikir finally seeded in sending Sinir elsewhere and being left alone with his barrage of questions.

    " ...I see you''re a very studious student."

    Vikir emerged into a deserted hallway with a bucket and mop.

    All of his fellow academy volunteers were either eating outside or having dessert with the children.

    Vikir had nned to focus on the building''s internal structure during mealtime, when everyone was most distracted.

    Then.

    "...!"

    Vikir was walking down the hallway when he bumped into a kid.

    "...."

    Age to be in her early teens. Beautiful blonde hair. Fair skin. Slightly sunken eyes that looked somewhat sad.

    Around her neck was an old, crude, gold-colored ne.

    The word ''Nymphet'' could be seen written on the ne.

    Vikir waved the bottle of milk Sinir had given to him earlier at the girl who was staring at him.

    "Drink."

    "...."

    The girl res at Vikir.

    She snaps.

    Vikir flicks his wrist once, and the milk spins in the bottle.

    The girl gives him a quick nce, then turns and runs off down the hall.

    Without a second thought, Vikir put the bottle back in his pocket.

    Then.

    "Her name is Nymphet."

    A voice said from behind him.

    Vikir turned to see Dolores standing there with a knitting basket and a bunch of dolls.

    The academy''s student council president, head of the newspaper department, and a saintess of Quovadis Family, she volunteers here every weekend.

    Dolores narrowed her eyes at Vikir and asked.

    "Are you doing yourmunity service? You have to work hard to make up for your demerits."

    "...I''m working hard."

    "Good."

    Dolores nodded once.

    Then he looked at Vikir, his gaze still cold and stern.

    "You''d better not do that kid any favors."

    "...?"

    Vikir shook his head, and Dolores continued.

    "She was born here, and I''ve seen countless volunteerse to the orphanage over the past 13 years."

    "...."

    "At first, she was friendly with the students who volunteered, too, ying big sister and big brother."

    "...."

    "But the sisters and brothers I became so close with started to visit less and less as time went by. It''s something that can''t be helped. As they go up in grade, they have to study more, graduate, and get a job. It''s the same for me right now."

    "...."

    "Out of every 100 volunteers in the first grade, maybe one will continue to volunteer in the third grade, and even then, they stoping after they graduate or get a job, so it''s hard for the kids at the orphanage to warm up to the volunteers. For the volunteers, the kids here are a part of so many lives, but for the kids here, their sisters and brothers are a big part of their lives."

    She was right, for the most part. The students at the academye to volunteer here to fulfill theirmunity service requirements.

    Dolores turned her gaze to the back of Nymphet''s head as she walked away.

    "She''s tired of short-lived rtionships, long-lived misses, and eternal separations, so she''s made a promise to herself that she won''t give any to outsiders."

    "... Isn''t that right?"

    "Yes. But every time I see her, she bes more guarded, and at some point, she doesn''t talk to me at all. I feel like she''s put all her expectations on other people, and it breaks my heart. I wish she wasn''t so skeptical of the world."

    Doloresmented that she had been volunteering here for more than three years and Nymphet still didn''t return her greetings.

    Just then.

    "...!"

    Vikir''s expression immediately changed as he listened to Dolores'' words.

    "I hope Nymphet can speak again soon. Aphasia is a disease that is caused by a broken heart, so it requires warm love and attention from people around it... ... Whoop!?"

    Dolores couldn''t finish her sentence.

    Vikir''s hand flew out quickly and mped over her mouth.

    ...Jaw!

    Vikir mped his hand over the saintess''s mouth and shoved her into the recess between the walls.

    It was a small recess, carved out by an architectural mistake, with cabs jutting out on either side, and it was shaded, making it hard to see from the hallway.

    "What?"

    Dolores pushed her hand away from Vikir''s breastbone and tried to remove the hand covering her mouth, but Vikir wouldn''t allow it, instead pushing her even closer to the wall.

    "Shhh."

    Vikir''s husky voice echoed in Dolores'' ears.

    Dolores felt her mind go nk.

    ''????''

    This suddenly? No, no, no, what''s going on here?

    She hadn''t been this close to a man since she was born, that''s for sure.

    As she braced herself for this sudden, rude, ... situation(?) she''d never been in before.

    "...."

    Vikir squinted, scanning the hallway.

    The muscles in his face stiffened.

    He could feel the stench of foul mucus digging through his nose getting closer and closer.

    Thud, thud, thud, thud.

    Footsteps pounding on the marble floor.

    There was a man walking toward them from the far end of the hallway.

    A gentleman in his fifties. A devout religious man. A sessful businessman. A loving father.

    A man who looks perfectly normal on the outside, but exudes an overwhelming odor from within.

    This monster was Vikir''stest assassination target, Guilty.

 Chapter 145: Volunteering for the Golden Week (3)

    <h4>Chapter 145: Volunteering for the Golden Week (3)</h4>

    Guilty was fairly middle-aged.

    His appearance, which resembles a famous theater actor who retired and disappeared a few years ago, is clearly visible even from a distance.

    Vikir recognized him at a nce.

    ''Tenth or ninth time!''

    The face is different, but the foul essence inside is the same.

    The stench that assaulted his nose was unmistakably demonic, weaker than it had been before his regression, but still intimidating enough.

    Moreover, there was one more factor that added to Vikir''s confidence.

    It was the four shadows walking in an escorted circle around Guilty.

    Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle, shuffle.

    Walking directly behind Quilty was arge, burly man in a suit. He wore a ck sack over his face.

    He wears a golden namete with the word "Ephebo" engraved on his chest.

    Walking on either side of Guilty are twonky men, also dressed in suits, with ck sacks over their faces.

    The words "Pedo" and "Hebe" are emzoned on their chest pads.

    And finally, the shadows walking in front of Guilty.

    The shadow in front of him was a woman.

    She was lithe and athletic, with a ck sack over her face.

    The namete on her chest read ''Geronto''.

    Three men and a woman.

    Vikir''s attention was drawn to the man walking behind Guilty.

    ''...epebo, that must be him.''

    Vikir knew him well.

    I''d been with him once before, on an assassination mission.

    I''d gotten so close, only to lose it when one of the structures self-destructed.

    I bent a steel beam and impaled it all the way through its torso, and it ripped it off and ran away.

    ''It was an undead of the Advanced Graduator ss. It used the blunt techniques of the Quorvadis, so it was tricky to deal with.

    Vikir held his breath and waited for Guilty to pass.

    Finally, Guilty, leading the four shadows, passed the wall where Vikir was hiding.

    Moment.

    [....]

    Ephebo''s head tilted to one side for a moment.

    As if sniffing something.

    Vikir stiffened and stuck to the wall.

    Hiding in the lonely gap between wall and wall, in the shadows cast by the cabs.

    [....]

    Ephebo turned his head a little further, in the direction of Vikir''s hiding ce.

    Just then.

    "Well, well, well."

    Guilty''s voice from the front snapped Ephebo''s head back to its original angle.

    Guilty was holding the hand of the fat man who had appeared earlier with a humanized smile on his face.

    The fat man smiled back at Guilty.

    "You''ve been so busy with this, I can''t even see your face."

    "Oh, well, there are so many noblemen who want to meet with me these days to repent for their sins."

    "Me too, hehehehe. Speaking of which...."

    The fat man turned to Guilty and said in a low voice.

    "I''d like to buy some ''indulgences''."

    "Indulgences, how much?"

    "I''d like to buy about a billion gold."

    Guilty replied with a smile.

    "A billion gold, that''s enough price for any crime. Have you killed anyely?"

    "Heh, heh, heh �C no, that''s not a big deal, I have a little girl I bought a while back, but she''s a barbarian, so she''s a bit rude, and after I pampered her a bit, she couldn''t stand it and ran away."

    "Oh, so the ve was spoiled."

    "That''s right. Maybe it''s because there''s been a crackdown on illegal vestely, or maybe it''s because the goods are being sold without warranties. Anyway, so I took my escorts and gave her a little discipline on the way to get her, but she didn''tst long on the run... and then she just snapped and died."

    "Hmm, so you''re buying yourself a billion gold worth of immunity for just killing a ve girl?"

    "s, no. On my way back from killing the ve girl, I got so frustrated that I stopped and burned down an entire vige of farmers people I met on a mountain pass. I think I burned about thirty of the bastards to death."

    "Hahaha, if that''s the case, then 500 million gold should be enough, right?"

    "Hehehe, the other 500 million gold is more like a ''tip'' to a grateful god for forgiving my sins."

    And the two menughed coolly together.

    Guilty nodded and said.

    "That''s a good idea," said Guilty, "in the Rune Religion, we''re tolerant of human error, and as long as you''re human, you''re going to make mistakes and sin and stuff, so you can pay for it with an offering."

    "That''s right, whatever sin youmit, you pay for it in the offering."

    "That''s right, even if you''re forcibly insulting a saint, you can still repent by paying an offering. Your soul goes from hell to heaven the moment your earthly coin clinks into the offering te, which is also recognized by the former Cardinal of the Old Order of the Runes, His Holiness Humbert L. Quovadis."

    Guilty and the fat nobleman walk to the end of the corridor, giving and taking.

    Ephebo, Fedor, Hebe, and Geronto followed Guilty out of sight.

    ... Meanwhile, Vikir listened to the entire conversation.

    His sense of smell was paralyzed by the disgusting smell of the corpse that Guilty had left in the hallway just moments before.

    "It''s suffocating."

    Then.

    A cold voice came from under Vikir''s chin.

    " ...Who doesn''t want to be suffocated?"

    Only then did Vikir retreat, thinking it was a mistake.

    Dolores stared back at him, her face hard and icy.

    Dolores, who had just stepped out of the gap in the wall, looked very displeased and used Vikir.

    "What did you just do?"

    Vikir was at a loss for words.

    He couldn''t tell the truth about the existence of demons.

    ...?

    Seeing that Vikir remained silent, Dolores seemed to misunderstand.

    "Do you think I''m going to thank you for this futile consideration?"

    "...?"

    What was this again? Vikir looked up, puzzled.

    Then Dolores snapped.

    "You think I''m going to be ufortable with the author, Guilty! But no! I am not afraid to face him! How dare you treat me like a coward!?"

    Vikir suddenly realized what Dolores had misunderstood.

    She was misinterpreting Vikir''s reason for hugging her and hiding between the walls.

    She thought Vikir was trying to keep Dolores away from Guilty, or something like that.

    So why was Dolores so ufortable about running into Guilty?

    The answer can be found in a newspaper article I read not long ago.

    [The Night Hound, the viin who terrorized the Imperial City, who is he?]

    -March 0,st night at dawn. A mysterious creature appeared and ravaged the 00 nursery school...

    [The Faithful House in Danger, is it okay as it is!?]

    -Meanwhile, within the Quovadis family, the Old and New Order factions are currently at odds...

    Some have criticized the family for being slow to respond to the terrorist crisis due to internal strife...

    [Old Order vs New Order, Quovadis squabbling over terrorists!?]

    -The battle between the Old Order and the New Order is as old as time, and the two factions have been at odds over whether or not the sale of "immunity charms" and "indulgence charms" by the denomination is justified...

    [Is the "Night Hound" a real viin?]

    -Whether this is a travesty created by the Old and New Orders, or the manifestation of a truly rare evil, remains to be seen...

    There are two factions within the Quovadis of the Faithful.

    The Old Order faction, led by Cardinal Humbert, and the New Order faction, led by Cardinal Martin Luther.

    The Old Order and New Order factions differed in many ways, but one of the biggest differences was the eptance or rejection of indulgences.

    An indulgence was a certificate that excused a person from a sin, a sort of talisman.

    The idea was that you had to pay a ransom equal to the weight of your sin to offset it.

    The Old Order Rune Religion sold indulgences and collected vast sums of money to build a powerful organization.

    They were mostly older, high-ranking priests.

    The New Order, on the other hand, criticized the Old Order system and sought to reform it.

    The younger, lower-ranking clerics were the members of the New Order faction.

    St. Dolores was a prominent figure of the New Order, known as the ''awakened young blood.''

    She was on a very different path from her father, Cardinal Humbert, the godfather of the Old Order, and the father-daughter rtionship was known to be somewhat rocky.

    Meanwhile, Guilty, who had just passed through the hallway, was a typical Old Order figure.

    His family, the Indulgentia, was also one of the strongest pirs of the Old Order.

    It''s easy to imagine, then, that St. Dolores and Guilty, the orphanage''s director, don''t get along very well.

    In fact, just a few moments ago, Guilty had said some very ugly things to Dolores.

    ''You know, even if you''re forced to insult a saint, you can still repent by paying an offering.''

    In hindsight, Guilty might have thought Dolores was hiding between the walls.

    No, he must have known.

    Is that why?

    Dolores is so angry that tears are forming in her eyes.

    Her normally gentle and calm voice shook precariously with emotion.

    "This kindness is only an inconvenience, and my family''s affairs are my own! How dare you say you know what...!"

    What''s more, Dolores didn''t like Vikir in the first ce because of all the trouble at school.

    To her, Vikir was azy, negligent tardy student with azy attitude towards life, and a rude brat who didn''t know much about the Night Hounds.

    Dolores exploded with all of her stress and frustration at once: the shame of having her family''s inner affairs exposed to an outsider, the self-loathing for wanting to hide in fear at the sight of Guilty, even if only for a moment, the subtle feelings she harbored for the Night Hounds who antagonized her family, and everything else.

    "You''re the worst!"

    She was holding it together, but she was still young and immature.

    With that, Dolores turned her back on Vikir and disappeared down the hall.

    "...."

    With her gone, Vikir was left alone.

    ''What the hell.''

    It didn''t matter that the saintess was angry right now.

    In fact, thanks to Dolores'' distraction, Guilty and Ephebo walked past Vikir without a second nce.

    In many ways, this is lucky.

    Vikir immediately began to follow Guilty.

    It was daylight, so he was unmasked, but his eyes were already glowing an eerie blood red.

    The night hound bared his teeth.

 Chapter 146: Volunteering for the Golden Week (4)

    <h4>Chapter 146: Volunteering for the Golden Week (4)</h4>

    The next morning arrived.

    The volunteer students managed to sleep an extra two hours and woke up at 8:00.

    Unlike the academy''s schedule, where students wake up at 6:00 a.m. and start their day at 8:00 a.m., the orphanage wakes up at 8:00 a.m. and starts its day at 10:00 a.m.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Vikir, who were sharing a room, woke up early, washed up, and headed out the door.

    As Vikir was just putting on his shoes and heading out the door, Piggy called out to him.

    "Hey, Vikir. Where did you gost night?"

    "...?"

    Vikir looked up, and Piggy rubbed his sleepy eyes.

    "No, I had to pee in the wee hours of the morningst night and got up to go to the bathroom, but you weren''t in bed."

    "I was in the stall at the time."

    "Oh yeah? Ugh, I don''t go big for at least a week when I''m in a new ce. I guess you''ve already adjusted."

    It''s a lie, of course.

    Vikir had spent the entire night investigating the nursery buildings.

    Though he''d turned on a false rmst night when he''d lost Guilty''s trail halfway through the chase.

    ''He''s more suspicious than I thought. He''s changing his routine to disrupt the chase.''

    Hounds follow scent to track their prey, but they can''t pick up where the scent leaves off.

    But Vikir is human. Humans know how to use tools.

    Aplete map of the nursery and a building register.

    Vikir was able to get a copy of the architectural ns for Indulgentia Orphanage from when it was first built, which allowed him to locate Guilty, the director of the orphanage.

    ''Hisir was hidden deep in the center of the nursery. This gave me a clear target.''

    Guilty''s quarters were hidden in the center of a circle of buildings housing the children.

    The volunteers'' quarters were outside of the children''s buildings, so to kill Guilty, you would have to go through the four children''s buildings.

    Therefore, in order to pass through the children''s living quarters at night, we had to volunteer in as many locations as possible during the day.

    This way, he could learn theyout of the buildings and n the best route.

    That''s what Vikir does today.

    "Work hard, with sincerity."

    He nned to serve children.

    But Tudor, Sancho, and Piggy, who didn''t know it, were impressed by Vikir''s spirit of service.

    "Vikir. Honestly, I saw you again this time. I''m ashamed of myself for working so hard for the kids, for trying to fill in the hours so I could get points. I should take a cue from you and work harder to be a true hero."

    "I thought you were crazy when you stood up to your professors and seniors, but it turns out you''re strong for the strong and weak for the weak. I admire you even though you''re my ssmate."

    "Vikir, I''ll try harder too!"

    Of course, Vikir didn''t listen to his sentimental friends.

    The important thing was not to be recognized and praised by others, but to capture and kill the demon lurking in this orphanage.

    Then.

    "Good morning!"

    A voice called out to Vikir as he made his way to the children''s area.

    Sinir could be seen waving her hand in this direction.

    Tudor, Sancho, and Piggy looked at each other''s faces.

    Tudor, Sancho, and Piggy stared at each other''s faces, because none of them were close to Sinir.

    "?"

    "?"

    "?"

    A "Hey, you too?" vibe formed between the three.

    Then.

    Sinir walked over with a big smile on his face and tapped someone on the shoulder.

    It was Vikir.

    "Brother, why don''t you pretend to know me!"

    "I didn''t realize it was a greeting for me, and...."

    My brother?

    Vikir''s brow furrowed.

    There was something ufortable about being called brother by a young girl.

    ''I''d rather be called mister.''

    So Vikir corrected Sinir''s title.

    "We''re ssmates, so don''t call me brother."

    "Why? I''m a year younger than you, and you''re still my brother, no matter how you say it."

    "Because it''s ufortable to hear...."

    But Vikir didn''t finish his sentence.

    Tuk-tuk-tuk-tuk-tuk-tuk-

    Six hands mped over Bikir''s mouth.

    "Ooh, we love being called big brothers!"

    Tudor, Sancho, and Piggy said to Sinir as they mped their hands over Vikir''s mouth.

    "...?"

    Sinir tilted his head with rabbit-like eyes, then grinned.

    "Yeah? I''ll call you something else if you don''t like it. I''ll think about it until lunch."

    "Ouch!"

    "Well then, Mr. Tudor, Mr. Sancho, and Mr. Piggy, good luck today!"

    Sinir waved both fists at everyone, then turned and ran.

    In the distance, she headed in the direction of where the kids were doing the lead run.

    "Guys, she''s back! Yay!"

    "Whoa- Sis Sinir, here''s the pass!"

    Sinir quickly blended in and started ying with the kids.

    Tudor, Sancho, and Piggy''s jaws dropped at her innocence.

    "Sinir seems like such a good kid."

    "He''s good at school, good at magic, and good with kids."

    "And most of all...."

    The three spoke up at the same time.

    "She''s the prettiest of all the new students!"

    Just then.

    "What a bunch of boys."

    A sneer came from behind them.

    All heads turned to see Bianca standing there with her arms crossed.

    Bianca said.

    "If you''re here to serve, serve, not to judge others behind their backs."

    Tudor, Sancho, and Piggy all flinch at her chilling words.

    ...except for Vikir.

    Bianca looked at Vikir, who stood still, expressionless.

    "At least you''re a little better. You don''t flirt with idiots."

    Then Tudor, who was standing next to Vikir, spoke up.

    "Who''s an idiot!"

    "You."

    "Don''t you realize that you and I have simr writing scores?"

    "Where does thate from? You had months of rigorous, expensive tutoring before you came to the Academy, and I got that grade just by ying around. I heard your father spent almost a castle to tutor you, and you got that grade after all that work? You''re so subpar. Will you please save your nobleman''s face?"

    "What''s so noble about a first year getting caught applying makeup, getting called out by the second year sisters and scolded, and berating them by bringing up the family''s prestige, and then being caught by the instructor and being forced to serve?"

    Tudor and Bianca had been enemies since before they entered the Academy, so there was nothing they didn''t know about each other.

    "You bastard, what''s the point of being proud of amoner girl''s face behind her back?"

    "I called her pretty because I thought she was pretty, and don''t you realize that discrimination betweenmoners and nobles is forbidden in the academy? You''re disqualified from being a hero because you''re so full of selfishness!"

    "Don''t you ever get tired of your heroism? You''re just like Don Quixote!"

    "It''s the Usher family''s trademark to be gloomy and sarcastic!"

    "You''re talking out of your ass. Pfft!"

    "You might as well be screaming at a rock. I''m in!"

    Tudor and Bianca had always argued about who was the true head of the cold warrior ss, and this argument was no different.

    Sancho, fed up, interrupted them.

    Meanwhile, Vikir quickly left.

    He didn''t want to waste any more time getting caught up in the children''s fight.

    Piggy followed Vikir and said.

    "Oh, by the way. Vikir. I have a piece of information to tell you."

    "Information? What is it?"

    "Nothing big. It''s about Sinir."

    ...?

    Vikir cocked his head.

    Piggy scratched her head.

    "It''s really nothing. I saw Sinir go to the outreach coordinator the other day and ask for something."

    "Like what?"

    "About where you''re going to volunteer. She asked me where you were going and wanted me to assign her to it. She seemed so desperate."

    Piggy chuckled and gave Vikir a swat on the side of the head.

    "See what I mean? Good luck with that."

    Vikir got a serious look on his face when he heard that.

    He knew exactly what Piggy was talking about.

    ''She actually changed her volunteer location to follow me, at this time of year? That''s suspicious.''

    Something smelled of conspiracy.

    At the same time, Vikir remembered what Sinir had said yesterday.

    ''It''s a coincidence that we''re both assigned to the same ce.''

    ''It is.''

    ''Actually, I saw your volunteer applicationst week, but I didn''t think we''d be going to the same ce.''

    ''I see.''

    Sure, yesterday was a coincidence. But it was a deliberate and thoroughly nned move.

    Vikir looked at Sinir in the distance with a distant nce.

    ''Come to think of it, when you said that yesterday, you had a strange increase in heart rate and unsteady breathing. It is the hallmark of those who have something to hide.''

    An uninhabited world in an age of destruction is understandably wary.

    The demons are so vicious that they can slip through the cracks and stab you with their deadly sting.

    Recalling the faces of hisrades-in-arms, sad and futile, makes me even more alert.

    I couldn''t feel anything other than clear energy in her soul, but I still don''t know.

    ''There''s no harm in being wary,'' he thought, ''but I''ll have to keep my distance. Far, far away.''

    Piggy''s meaningful warning was also troubling.

    Perhaps he sensed something ominous and was trying to warn me about it.

    ''...Well, if you can get rid of it without rats or birds noticing, that''s all you need.''

    The dead are silent, for the dead have no words.

    Vikir walked away, grateful to Piggy for the warning.

    From now on, he would keep a close eye on Sinir''s every move, but he would also keep his distance.

 Chapter 147: Volunteering for the Golden Week (5)

    <h4>Chapter 147: Volunteering for the Golden Week (5)</h4>

    The days are bright and sunny.

    Vikir is pulling weeds that have sprouted in the yard.

    But even while doing the dirty work, Vikir''s eyes and ears are always open.

    He wants to make sure he doesn''t miss a single detail about Guilty, so he does his best to gather information.

    It''s almost impossible for a volunteer to meet Guilty in person, instead relying on information about his work and daily routine from a distance or from those around him.

    This was made all the more annoying by the fact that he was often interrupted by Geronto, Fedo, Hebe, and Ephebo, who were always at his side.

    "They''re strong guys. Especially that Geronto girl....''

    Vikir turned his attention to the smallest of Guilty''s four shadows, a mage woman.

    She exuded strong magic, probably at least fifth ss.

    Her body clearly belonged to a girl who appeared to be about Vikir''s age, but the power she possessed was definitely unnatural.

    The ck sack she was wearing was also quite ominous, emitting an unpleasant odor.

    It seemed to be a relic from a distant and ancient time.

    In any case, unless we can somehow deal with those four sack people who are escorting Guilty, the purpose of the mission will not be fulfilled.

    ''Alright, let''s just focus on what I can see for now.''

    Vikir began to think with only the information he had at hand.

    After analyzing the circumstances, Guilty''s job was nothing special.

    His primary job was to sell indulgences and plenaries to nobles and merchants visiting the church, and he asionally mailed investment reports and indulgence sales ledgers to the Quovadis family.

    The recipients of the mail were almost always Cardinal Humbert L Quovadis of the Old Order.

    Vikir would sneak over the barrier at night and intercept the mail by shooting pigeons and owls flying away from Guilty''s office with arrows.

    The letters usually contained the following.

    Viscount Beckin: Murdered parents who wanted to donate their inheritance instead of passing it on to their children, faked an idental death, and stole the inheritance = all sins are forgiven by paying 1.5 billion gold in tribute.

    Baron Lageso: Terrified and murdered his twin sisters, who were working as maids, and buried them in the sewers = All sins are forgiven with a 200 million gold tribute.

    Lord Finnegieg: Murdered a business partner and stole his investments, while his family suffered andmitted mass suicide = 800 million gold.

    Count Eisel: Charged with massive tax evasion, nearly 100 billion gold in tax evasion alone = Pardoned by paying 300 million gold in tribute.

    CEO Quarkar: used of stock price maniption, driving over 10,000 ant investors to suicide = Pardoned by paying 5 billion gold.

    .

    .

    For example, a rich man evaded taxes, a high-ranking noble intimidated a servant, a merchant murdered a business associate, or a trader bought and sold indulgences for... whatever.

    Vikir read each and every one of these letters while pulling weeds in the yard.

    He concluded.

    "... I don''t need to know about this."

    These were bad guys, sure, but at least they weren''t in league with the demons and betraying humanity.

    At least they weren''t being hunted by the Night Hounds.

    Vikir was about to throw the letters away when he paused.

    Confessions of the criminals the Old Order priests were dealing with, and their secret crimes against humanity.

    "Maybe it would be a good gift for someone."

    This "cklist" would be a politically potent weapon.

    Vikir set the letters aside for a moment. He''d tuck them away somewhere.

    Then.

    ...Wiggle!

    Something moved in the pocket of Vikir''s arm.

    "...?"

    Vikir felt a rare moment of panic.

    What had just wriggled out of his pocket was enough to make even the usually expressionless Vikir''s eyes widen.

    An egg. It was a ratherrge ck egg.

    The egg of Madame Eight-Legged, the one he had saved when he was adrift for two years in the depth of the ck Mountain with his former enemy.

    I''ve always carried it in my pocket, just in case, but why is it wriggling now?

    "...?"

    Vikir looked up.

    In the direction of the egg''s wiggling, a group of children were running a lead race.

    "What?

    For a moment, Vikir''s mind wandered.

    Madame Eight-Legged Egg had once grown up in the same nest as the wolf pups in Bk''s vige.

    The pups had cuddled, rolled over, licked, and yed together.

    Is it possible that this egg misses that simple life, and that''s why it wants to join the children at the orphanage when it sees them ying? Is it a coincidence that neither Madame Eight-Legged Egg nor the children at the orphanage have parents?

    "No, it can''t be. There''s no spirituality in a mere spider''s egg....''

    But if it''s an egg of a high-ranking creature with a danger rating of S, Madame Eight-Legged, it might be something else.

    Then.

    Bam!

    A ball kicked by one of the children made a loud noise.

    At the same time, the expressions of all the children turned to horror.

    "Ouch!?"

    Had the ball gone too far?

    No, it wasn''t.

    There was a loud pop, but the ball didn''t move an inch from its spot.

    The leather had torn and the air inside had burst.

    "s, this was thest ball...."

    The children gathered around the worn-out ball and cried.

    The orphanage made a lot of money selling indulgences, but the toys the children yed with were always old, shabby ones that had been donated long ago.

    The balls the children used to y football with were worn out and had holes in them that had been stitched together several times to form a ball.

    Eventually, it burst, and the children could no longer y ball.

    "...."

    Thest child to kick the ball panics, not knowing what to do.

    Vikir thought the face of the flustered child was quite familiar.

    Nymphet. A girl who doesn''t often open up to volunteers.

    Her usual expressionless face was gone, and she was looking at her ssmates with a tearful expression.

    A look that said she was sorry and didn''t know what to do.

    And then. Something amazing happened.

    ...Pot!

    Madame Eight-Legged''s egg pierced Vikir''s chest and shot forward.

    Pow! Pow! Pow!

    Madame''s egg bounced and rolled lightly across the floor, as if urging a child to y with it.

    "Huh? A ball!"

    The children are delighted to see Madame''s egg bouncing this way.

    The ball deflected and bounced in a few odd directions, but the kids generally didn''t seem to mind, and used Madame''s egg as their lead ball.

    "...That''s crazy."

    Vikir''s mouth was half open as he watched Madame''s egg bounce around the yground, chasing the children.

    The egg seemed somehow amused as it bounced off the children''s hands and feet or soared into the air.

    It didn''t crack on impact, but rather bounced around like a rubber ball.

    The perfect material, as if the heavens had sent it down to be used as a ball when ying ball.

    ... But even so, it was definitely a demonic creature''s egg, and certainly not something for children to y with.

    Vikir took a step forward to snatch it away from the children.

    At that very moment.

    "Hmph!"

    A raspy cough came from behind him.

    Vikir ignored it and took another step forward.

    "Cough! Cough!"

    The coughing continued, as if trying to force Vikir''s attention.

    "...?"

    Vikir''s eyes spun around to see a familiar face.

    St. Dolores stood before him, her face slightly flushed.

    Vikir quickly snatched up Guilty''s ledgers from his side and tucked them into his arms.

    Dolores narrowed her eyes at the sight.

    "Studying for a writing exam? Are you studying while doing volunteer work? ... Hmm, you''re surprisingly diligent."

    "What is it?"

    Vikir asks in a stern tone, and Dolores coughs once more, averting her gaze.

    "Uhm, uhm, just, uhm. I was wondering what your volunteer work is like, and from what I''ve heard from some of my friends, you seem pretty dedicated to it. Is it worth it?"

    "Yeah."

    "...."

    "...."

    "...Ah, is that it, answer?"

    "Yeah."

    "...I see."

    Dolores couldn''t help but notice that Vikir''s short answers didn''t sit well with her.

    She was used to asking one word questions and getting ten or a hundred answers.

    Dolores twisted the ends of her hair around her fingers a few times before she forced herself to speak.

    "..., actually. I came to talk to you about what happened yesterday."

    "...?"

    Vikir''s brow furrowed slightly.

    "Yesterday?

    It was unimportant, so he must have forgotten about it right away.

    As Vikir was trying to recall what had happened with Dolores yesterday, Dolores hesitantly continued.

    "Well, I guess it''s because we have a bit of a family situation... and I think I overreacted to you yesterday, but I''m sure you were just trying to help me, and I''m really sorry for the way I yelled at you yesterday....."

    Dolores was apparently referring to yesterday when she was pushed down the hallway by Vikir with her mouth covered.

    But.

    "...!"

    Vikir wasn''t paying attention to Dolores at all right now.

    Because something much bigger than that was happening right now.

    Bam!

    Madame''s egg, kicked by the Nymphet, flew high into the air this time.

    But he had chosen the wrong trajectory.

    ...Pow!

    He fell into the deep sewers at the edge of the yground.

    The kids all screamed.

    "Ouch! No! That''s thest ball!"

    "We''re not going to make it without it!"

    "Pick it up! We have to pick it up or...!"

    The problem is that the filth and wastewater flowing in that sewer is being sucked straight into an underground sewage treatment nt, and the ball that fell into it isn''t just any ball.

    Purrrrrr...

    Even as the kids are panicking, Madame''s egg is making its way to the sewage treatment nt.

    The sewer is too deep for them to get into and the flow is too fast.

    A dire situation in more ways than one.

    So Dolores couldn''t finish her sentence.

    "I''m sorry... okay?"

    Vikir, the object of her apology, scurried out onto the yground as she spoke.

    "It''s deep. Move."

    Vikir gave a quick warning to the kids who had gathered in front of the sewer and were scrambling to get out of the way.

    And then.

    ...a puff of air!

    Without a moment''s hesitation, Vikir dove into the filthy, floating sewer.

 Chapter 148: Volunteering on the Golden Week (6)

    <h4>Chapter 148: Volunteering on the Golden Week (6)</h4>

    Dolores Rune Quovadis, Saint of the Faithful Quovadis.

    She hadn''t always liked Vikir.

    Or rather, she was more of a hater.

    Ever since she''d first met him at the Academy, she''d had an unttering image of him.

    -''Vikir. ss B. What did you do to earn so many demerits already?''

    -''....''

    -''You know that umting too many demerits, even if they''re attitude points, will hurt your grades. Sometimes you''ll have to miss lectures and domunity service. Do you understand?''

    -''I understand.''

    -''... Let''s see.''

    Azy junior with a pile of demerits for being a freshman.

    He didn''t even show any embarrassment or guilt when he was called out for his bad behavior, such as beingte or entering restricted areas.

    Not only was hezy and shameless, but he was also arrogant.

    Even Vikir, as soon as he entered the newsroom, didn''t hesitate to say something sour about the Night Hound.

    ''He''s a viin, that''s for sure.''

    When Dolores heard Vikir speak ill of the Night Hound, she felt something stir inside her.

    Who was he to judge him so presumptuously?

    How dare he judge him, a freshman college student with a full stomach and a roof over his head, azy, delinquent life in a cradle like this?

    Dolores thought of the Night Hound.

    Sure, he was now a suspect in the terrorist attack on Quovadis''s branch, but Dolores firmly believed in her heart that he was not a bad person.

    The memories of treating the poor with him when the gue known as the Red Death ravaged the slums of St. Ma were still fresh in her mind.

    ''How could I call him a wicked man when I saw the way he never stopped treating his patients, even when he was covered in their own feces?''

    The holy spirit of sacrifice that the Night Hound disyed then was certainly not something that could be mimicked by acting.

    For indeed, his soul was rough and scarred, but it nevertheless radiated an aura of purity beyond that of any of the priests.

    Who the Night Hound was, and where he came from, Dolores did not know.

    But she could guess that he had walked through countless thorny paths in his life, and the good that had blossomed out of those wounds was holy and noble, she thought.

    To be vilified, oppressed, persecuted, and yet persist in doing good and making sacrifices. A martyr.

    That''s how Dolores characterized the Night Hound.

    That''s why she didn''t like people who criticized martyrs.

    She didn''t like people who spoke ill of martyrs, because she knew how much of a burden they put on the shoulders of those who walked the thorny path, hiding in their safe andfortable ces, with words spoken without thought.

    ...Is that why?

    Dolores could never harbor good feelings for Vikir.

    The first time Vikir covered her mouth and pushed her up against the wall, she was dumbfounded.

    Butter, when she saw Guilty pass by in the hallway, she was furious.

    She was a saint of the Quovadis, and Guilty was a lowly cleric, a mere member of her family.

    There was no reason for Dolores to be intimidated by status.

    ''I mean, even if you''re forced to insult a saint, you can still repent by paying an offering.''

    Guilty had even said some insulting things about Dolores.

    This made Dolores even more angry at Vikir.

    If it weren''t for Vikir, he would have stormed out of the room and punished Quilty.

    Dolores then walked away, angry at Vikir.

    And exactly a few secondster.

    She regretted her anger.

    As with any good person, time passes and the anger subsides and you see your mistakes.

    Dolores thought back to the situation earlier.

    Vikir had obviously been acting in good faith, covering up for him to avoid an ufortable situation.

    And to be honest, Dolores felt ufortable, even a little scared, to see Guilty.

    You might be thinking, why be afraid of an inferior, but Guilty wasn''t just an inferior.

    Sometimes in life, there are people who are clearly beneath you, but they don''t feel like beneath you.

    For Dolores, that was Guilty.

    His smirking, brash, andid-back demeanor at any given moment made Dolores feel ufortable.

    She was also well aware that Guilty''s absolute confidence came from money, especially the enormous offerings he made to the higher-ups.

    As the patriarch of House Indulgentia, Guilty used the money she earned from selling indulgences to pay bribes in the guise of offerings, and she had built up an impressivework of connections and power.

    With his wealth and connections, it''s clear that Guilty is a man not to be trifled with, not even by the saintly Dolores of Quovadis Family.

    So when he openly insulted her sexually, she had no recourse other than to get angry.

    And this conflict within the Quovadis was already known to the world through newspaper reports.

    Under these circumstances, it''s hard to me Vikir for trying to be considerate.

    ''...No, you should be grateful.''

    Dolores had to admit to herself.

    If she had run into Guilty in the hallway earlier, she might have lost control of her expression and made a mistake.

    And he had Vikir to thank for preventing that from happening.

    ...What''s more.

    ''It''s suffocating.''

    Vikir frowned, obviously looking at Guilty.

    It''s clear from this that Vikir doesn''t like the idea of Guilty selling indulgences either.

    Dolores agreed with Vikir on that point, which made her feel slightly better about his image.

    ''Still, it''s not like he''s going to shove a girl he doesn''t know up against a wall, and it''s not like we''re having some kind of... thing going on.''

    For someone who had never been with a man before, being pushed up against a wall in his arms was definitely a powerful memory.

    Honestly, it still makes her heart skip a beat when she thinks about it,

    ''You really freaked me out.''

    Dolores rubbed her hands together, feeling her face grow slightly hot.

    "Maybe... is actually a good guy, except for beingzy."

    In Dolores'' mind, Vikir''s rating rose ever so slightly.

    It was quite an unusual and generous assessment for a woman who usually held to a puritanical ethic, a belief that sincerity was good.

    A little more time passed.

    Dolores sought out Vikir to apologize for what had happened in the hallway.

    ...?

    Even after half a day of walking around the entire building, it wasn''t easy to find Vikir.

    When it was time for recess, I asked some first year students who were taking a break.

    "Eh? Vikir? He was cleaning the toilets with us a while ago. He went to the cafeteria to help out because they were short-staffed, and he volunteered to go first when the person who lost the game of rock-paper-scissors asked him to go."

    Tudor, who was standing in the restroom, replied cheerfully.

    From the restroom, Dolores headed to the dining room.

    There, Sancho, who was eating with the kids in the dining room, testified.

    "Aah, Vikir? He was just handing out meals to me and the kids a few minutes ago, and then he heard that there was no hot water in the dining room, so he went to check the plumbing. Dude, you can''t even eat your meal because you were handing out meals...."

    Dolores went from the restroom to the plumbing room in the dining room.

    There, a water-soaked Piggy pointed his finger at the building in front of him.

    "Oops, boss, good lunch, you''re looking for Vikir, he must have gone to theundry room by now, because he just fixed the plumbing so I can wash my clothes!"

    Dolores went from the restroom to the dining room to the plumbing room to theundry room.

    There, Sinir, who was washing clothes, saluted him cheerfully.

    "Senior Dolores, hi! What''s up, Vikir? He was doingundry with me earlier, but the kids wanted to y, so I dragged him to the yroom! They''re so energetic! What? I''m a girl, so why do I call Vikir hyung? Isn''t that right? He told me not to call him oppa, so I called him hyung and he didn''t mind, ahaha!"

    Dolores went from the bathroom to the dining room to the plumbing room to theundry room to the yroom.

    There he found Bianca, who was giving the children rides with a troubled look on her face.

    "Who''s that, Vikir, haha... He was just giving me and the kids a horseback ride a few minutes ago and then the kids said they wanted to go out to the yground, so he went to do some maintenance on the yground, but I guess I''ll live with him taking the kids, they''re so fit... They never get tired...."

    Dolores had to run from the bathroom to the dining room to the plumbing room to theundry room to the yroom to the yground.

    On the way out to the yground, Dolores thought to herself

    ''I mean, how much work does he do in a day?''

    From what he had seen so far, Vikir was doing the work of a dozen people.

    Cleaning toilets, ministering in the dining hall, fixing plumbing, doingundry, ying with the kids, and maintaining the yground.

    Each one was incredibly demanding and arduous, and how many had he already aplished in the morning?

    The average academy student is barely able to help because they don''t have the hair to do the dirty work.

    I mean, when do fine people ever get to do this kind of grunt work?

    But Vikir was doing it all on his own, in the shadows, where no one would recognize him, without even a hint of a sulk.

    (Of course, Vikir had done all of these odd jobs in the army before he regressed, so he''s pretty good at them, and now he''s on an intelligence hunt, so there''s no way Dolores can tell that he''s deliberately shooting around and gathering information under the guise of work.)

    But she thought to herself.

    ''I was wrong all along, and I was wrong for a long time. She''s an incredibly sincere person....''

    To think that she''d thought of him aszy and neglectful all this time.

    Dolores felt ashamed of her prejudices and wanted to crawl into a rat hole.

    She thought she had treated everyone without discrimination and without prejudice, but here she was, looking at her junior, a neer to the club, with such prejudice.

    Dolorespletely reevaluated Vikir and decided that she owed him an apology for all of this.

    And then.

    Dolores went out to the yground where Vikir was.

    Across the field, he could see kids kicking balls and runningps.

    And there was Vikir, sitting a few feet away.

    Vikir was digging up weeds and boulders and ttening the area so that the children could use the yground.

    Mumbling...

    All the while, he''s pulling papers out of his pocket and reading them.

    ''He seems to be studying.''

    Dolores was genuinely impressed.

    He works so hard for the children, and yet he doesn''t neglect his studies.

    This is the epitome of a true student.

    ''... Did he study well?''

    Dolores didn''t know Vikir''s grades.

    She''d see how Vikir did on his written exams when she went back to schoolter.

    ''Maybe I can tutor him if I have time.''

    Dolores was confident that she would be able to help Vikir, as she had never been outside the top three in her ss in third-grade writing.

    As he thought this over, Dolores walked up behind Vikir and coughed.

    "Hmph!"

    Dolores tries to apologize, but the words don''te out right.

    Dolores was usually quick to apologize for her mistakes, but for some reason, it was difficult for Vikir.

    Perhaps it was the memory of Vikir cursing about the Night Hounds.

    ''That''s just an excuse, I was wrong, and I should apologize straight away.''

    Dolores coughed in vain once more.

    "Hmph! Hmph!"

    He coughed in vain, as if trying to get attention.

    Only then did Vikir turn his head.

    "...?"

    As soon as Vikir saw Dolores, he shoved the papers he''d been reading into his arms.

    Dolores opened her mouth in an awkward tone.

    "Studying for a writing test? You''re studying all the way through a volunteer job? ... Hmm, you''re surprisingly diligent."

    "What is it?"

    Vikir''s tone was hard. He was obviously upset about yesterday''s incident.

    Dolores stuttered slightly.

    "Uhhhh, um, I was just, uh, wondering. I was wondering how your volunteer work is going. I asked some of your friends, and it seems like you''re working pretty hard. Is it worth it?"

    "Yeah."

    "...."

    "...."

    "...Ah, is that it, answer?"

    "Yeah."

    "...Okay."

    Dolores panicked, not knowing how to continue the conversation.

    ''Was conversation supposed to be this hard?''

    All of the people she''d met so far had always spoken to her without her having to initiate the conversation, and the answers had alwayse naturally.

    Before she could even ask a question, she''d have a long list of things she wanted to know, and things she didn''t want to know.

    But Vikir was different.

    He doesn''t say anything unless it''s necessary.

    Even if the other person is the third-year student council president and a saint of one of the seven great houses of the Empire.

    Eventually, Dolores decided toe clean.

    "..., actually. I''m here to talk to you about what happened yesterday."

    "...?"

    Vikir''s brow furrowed slightly.

    Apparently, the memory of yesterday was very ufortable.

    Dolores closed her eyes tightly and decided to be honest.

    "Well, it''s just that we have a bit of a family history... and I think I overreacted to you yesterday, but I''m sure you were just trying to help me, and what I did yesterday when I yelled at you was really...."

    But.

    She couldn''t finish her apology.

    ...Pot!

    Vikir jumped out of her seat and ran off somewhere.

    "I''m sorry... huh?"

    Dolores looked up.

    No, forgiveness can''t be forced, but still, it''s a bit much for someone to apologize so sincerely and then just walk away....

    Dolores looked up, embarrassed, ashamed, and disappointed.

    What?

    "What!"

    Dolores''s eyes widened.

    The direction Vikir was running was toward the sewers where the children were clustered.

    It was too deep and dirty for them to go near.

    Some of the children were already peering dangerously into the sewers.

    Dolores quickly ran towards the sewer.

    As she approached, she saw that Nymphet was crying.

    ''Oh, the ball....''

    The ball they were ying with had fallen into the sewer.

    She knew that because of theck of supplies, the children were using the same old ball over and over again.

    She would often buy a new ball for them every time she visited, but with so many children ying with it, it would quickly be worn out and burst.

    How heartbroken would the children be to have their new balls go down the sewer?

    ...When Dolores is thinking.

    "It''s deep. Get out of the way."

    Vikir''s short warning followed.

    "?"

    Dolores turned her head with a puzzled expression.

    ...st!

    Vikir leaped into the sewers. Without a moment''s hesitation.

    ... Puff, puff, puff, puff!

    In the disgusting wastewater, Vikir moved like a swimmer, eventually retrieving the ball that the children had dropped.

    Yuck!

    As Vikir climbs out of the sewer, he is approached by a group of frightened children.

    "Don''t y near the sewer, it''s dangerous. I''ve smoothed out the yground over there, so you can y there and... the ball is dirty, so I''ll wash it and give it back to you."

    Vikir said nonchntly, dripping with filth.

    And.

    "...."

    Dolores looked at Vikir''s broad back, covered in dirt, and suddenly felt her whole body heat up.

    ''What, what, why?''

    His cheeks grew so hot that he had to bring a cold palm to them.

    It was a truly strange and strange feeling that even I could not guess its identity.

    �C

    �C

    �C

    note: i forget this, oppa is only used by girls, while hyung is only used by boys, in previous chapter I trante it as brother

 Chapter 149: Not Brother, But Uncle (1)

    <h4>Chapter 149: Not Brother, But Uncle (1)</h4>

    The volunteer work of the Golden Week hase to an end.

    Everyone will return to the Academy tomorrow morning.

    On theirst night at the orphanage, the volunteer students gathered in the great hall to hear a speech from the orphanage''s director, Guilty.

    Resembling an old-time theater actor known for his eloquence, Guilty addressed the audience.

    " ... So, our parents are working hard for you even at this very hour... but unlike you, the children in this orphanage have no parents... and so you, the wonderful people of the Academy, who should be an example to all, have be the guardians of these children... and these children will remember for the rest of their lives the grace you have shown them over the past ten days... and you are no different than the parents who have given birth to these children in your hearts...."

    The tongue. It is only truly effective when it is attached to the demon''s lips.

    The demonic tongue is indeed the tongue of the demon, and it brought tears to the eyes of many students throughout the auditorium.

    Guilty''s speech reminded the volunteer students of the grace of their parents and made them feel, if only temporarily, a strong sense ofpassion for the children of the orphanage.

    It''s not even funny.''

    Except for Vikir.

    In fact, Vikir knew that Guilty''s speech was nothing more than a clever tapping into the feelings of respect and indebtedness that the Academy''s students naturally have for their parents.

    Proof of this was the giant donation box that appeared immediately after Guilty''s speech.

    "Now, show the children of our nursery the love you''ve felt for them these past ten days. As much as you''ve received from your parents, give to the children here!"

    At Guilty''s words, the students rushed to open their wallets.

    Clink, clink, clink!

    The sound of gold coins clinking together.

    As much as the students of the Academy respect and love their parents, the coins are stacked on top of each other, forming a small mountain of gold.

    ...Of course, Vikir didn''t pay a cent, because he didn''t have any respect or love for Hugo.

    Nor did he have any intention of donating anything to the demon.

    Then.

    Vikir was approached by someone.

    It was Sinir.

    She tugged on Vikir''s cor and said.

    "Hyung. Aren''t you paying?"

    "...No money."

    "Money? Why don''t you have money? You''re an Academy student."

    Admission to the Academy required an enormous amount of tuition each year.

    Sinir looked a little angry and poked Vikir in the side.

    "Don''t you think you''re being too harsh? The poor kids here have no parents, and we should help them."

    That was the general reaction of the volunteer students.

    Everyone except Vikir. I mean, Tudor, Sancho, Piggy... and even Bianca were all sobbing and dropping all their money in the donation box.

    But Vikir shook his head resolutely.

    "I don''t need parents."

    "Oh?"

    Sinir''s eyes widened in disbelief.

    Vikir added briefly.

    "You have to navigate the world on your own anyway. Parents are only functional in childhood, when they are essential, but otherwise they are unnecessary."

    In fact, Vikir didn''t think the children in the orphanage were pitiful or needy in the first ce.

    Just as he had been born and raised as a hound in Baskerville, he didn''t think the children in the orphanage needed a parent to help them through their childhood.

    The "world" is full of pain, something to be fought and ovee, and "parents" are merely the initial guides to help with the first tutorials of that long battle.

    It''s a functional view, not an emotional one, but it''s the way of parenting in Baskerville, where Vikir has lived his entire life, and in the Age of Destruction, where he''s lived half his life.

    And naturally, that perspective is somewhat unfamiliar to the average person in this day and age who hasn''t lived through the Age of Destruction.

    It''s been said that those who have lived through war and those who have not will never understand each other, even in death.

    Sinir''s gaze shifted slightly as he looked at Vikir.

    From a curious, yful look to a sad, wistful one.

    "Type ...."

    Finally, Sinir spoke up.

    "You shoulde to my house sometime. For the holidays or something."

    "...?"

    "We can eat together."

    Sinir stood on tiptoe and stretched out his hand to stroke Vikir''s head.

    "...What are you doing?"

    Vikir asked in disbelief, and Sinir pulled his hand back with a snap.

    The look of genuine embarrassment on her face told me that she hadn''t even realized she was doing it.

    "Uh... ... Well, then I''m done! I''m going to go see the kids! hyung! Really, let''s have a mealter! Because I will buy it! Just make sure you''re free when you get back from volunteering!"

    She backed away in a huff, waved, and disappeared into the crowd.

    "...What a weird girl."

    Vikir frowned.

    Memories of who Sinir had been before the regression shed through his mind.

    A girl who didn''t talk much, but smiled a lot. A girl who was reasonably friendly with everyone, but never really connected with anyone. A super genius who never missed the top spot in any of her written or practical exams during her four years at the academy. And the mysterious one who disappeared upon graduation, never to be seen again.

    She was said to be ofmoner descent, but strangely enough, nothing was known of her origins or background.

    Vikir frowned.

    ''Come to think of it, one of the pieces of crap Sindiwendy sent me said, There''s a royalty in the mix among this year''s 20th batch of Academy neers... You mean...?''

    Given Sinir''s good looks, talent, and strangely hidden background, it''s not out of the question.

    As Vikir was thinking about this.

    The voice of the Mean Guiltyes back.

    "Now, from now on, the children of our orphanage will be thanking their parents for giving birth to them with their hearts!"

    Just then, a spotlight shines on the far side of the stage.

    There, lined up in a row, are the children of the nursery, all dressed up and looking awkward and embarrassed.

    Each and every one of them holds a crudely crafted wreath in their hands.

    Guilty grinned from ear to ear.

    "Now, children �C let''s thank them for being your parents for ten days, shall we?"

    It''s obvious that Guilty''s n is to use the kids as bait to scrape more donations out of the academy''s inexperienced students.

    But the heart and connection between the children who made the wreaths and the volunteers who were happy to wear them around their necks was genuine.

    The children were excited to share their handmade bouquets and flower nes with their sisters, brothers, and older siblings, hoping that they would like them, and their sisters, brothers, and older siblings were overjoyed to receive their gifts.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca hugged them tightly.

    "A! I''m Tudor, I swear! I wille to you every week until the day I be a great hero, and of course after that!"

    "In the North, we cherish our children most. The future of the empire depends on you. Do your best."

    "A! I''ll be back! Next time Ie, I''ll bring lots of goodies!"

    "Well... ten days is a short time if it''s short, and a long time if it''s long. You''ve gotten yourself into a lot of trouble."

    The children tied gands around the students'' necks and kissed them on the cheeks.

    But.

    "...."

    Noticeably, the children were noting closer to Vikir.

    This was partly due to Vikir''s blunt and cold demeanor, but the main reason was that he hadn''t been in front of the children for the past ten days.

    Cleaning the sewers, repairing the plumbing, tiling the cafeteria, maintaining the yground, etc.... Vikir always took care of the dirty work behind the scenes, so his activities went unnoticed.

    Is that why? Vikir''smunity service scores, ratings, and image were quite low.

    Then.

    A little kid walked up to Vikir''s side.

    It was Nymphet.

    "...."

    "...."

    Nymphet stared at Vikir.

    Vikir stared at Nymphet, too.

    Unusually, Vikir broke the silence first.

    "...What do you see?"

    Nymphet, somewhat hesitantly, held out what he''d been hiding behind his back.

    It was a small, crudely made wreath.

    "Mmm. Thank you."

    Vikir took the wreath from Nymphet''s hand.

    Normally, he would bend down to the child''s eye level and let the child tie the wreath around his neck, but Vikir had no such consideration.

    Then, Nymphet grabbed Vikir''s hand.

    She moved her tiny fingers and wrote on Vikir''s palm.

    ''Thanks for the ball, oppa.''

    For your work in the sewers.

    Vikir nodded once.

    "You''re wee."

    Vikir was unimpressed; he''d only done it to save Madame Eight-Legged''s eggs.

    Unexpectedly, the Nymphet was willing to continue the conversation.

    "Will youe again?

    For a moment, Vikir''s pupils fluttered.

    Next time. Would there be a next time?

    Hounds prepare for death every moment.

    They could be killed by their prey or boiled by their master.

    So Vikir, like the other volunteers, didn''t find the word "next" easy to say.

    And Nymphet was no stranger to disappointment, especially with the increasingly less frequent volunteer visits.

    After a moment''s hesitation, Vikir finally nodded.

    "As long as there is a ''tomorrow'' for me and for you."

    That was the most Vikir could promise.

    Nymphet''s eyes went wide for a moment.

    Then Nymphet smiled wryly and nodded.

    "I''ll wait.''

    In Vikir''s parched palm, Nymphet''s moist fingers nt a message of promise.

    And then. It''s kissing time.

    All the other children kiss the cheeks of the other volunteers.

    But neither Nymphet nor Vikir stood still, not particrly trying to bring their mouths and cheeks close to each other.

    Finally, Vikir turned away.

    "It''s okay if we don''t kiss. I don''t like it either."

    "...."

    Nymphet was visibly flustered.

    For some reason, Nymphet hesitates, fidgeting with its hands.

    To Nymphet, Vikir had onest word.

    "... ... and. "It''s not ''oppa,'' it''s ''uncle.''"

    For a thirteen-year-old girl, it was somewhat unfamiliar to hear her brother called Vikir.

    Leaving a visibly disappointed Nymphet behind, Vikir turned to leave the auditorium on foot.

    "Now, wait!"

    Vikir would have done so, had it not been for Saint Dolores standing in his way.

    �C

    �C

    �C

    note: the tittle is Not Oppa but Ahjussi

 Chapter 150: Not Brother, But Uncle (2)

    <h4>Chapter 150: Not Brother, But Uncle (2)</h4>

    "Now, wait!"

    Saint Dolores stopped Vikir in his tracks.

    "Aren''t you being too hard on her? Did she get a kiss?"

    "No."

    "It''s not ''no'', it''s ''not''! She wants to kiss you like that, so give her a kiss!"

    "I''m embarrassed."

    Dolores opens her mouth in disbelief.

    I''ve never seen anyone say "embarrassed" so openly before.

    She pushes past Vikir and picks up Nymphet.

    "Uh-oh," she says, "that cold-hearted oppa doesn''t like kisses. Can I do it to my sister instead?"

    "...."

    "Oh, you hate big sister...?"

    But Dolores was a very determined Nymphet.

    Dolores watched in disbelief as Nymphet walked away and Vikir walked away.

    ''She never seems to open up to anyone, does she....?

    She knew why Nymphet had opened up to Vikir.

    Nymphet had dropped her ball in the sewer while running, and Vikir had jumped into the sewer to retrieve it for her without hesitation.

    How could anyone not be moved by the sight of him returning the ball to her, even with filth dripping from his body?

    Dolores, who must have been watching the scene from a distance, was moved to tears by the sight of Nymphet herself, who dropped the ball into the sewer.

    ''...Vikir. What an unknown.''

    Dolores thought to herself as she watched Vikir''s back shrink in the distance.

    He wanted to know more about the junior.

    * * *

    The day drew to a close.

    Vikir left the great hall and headed for his dormitory.

    The four-man dormitory was shared by Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Vikir.

    The daycare workers on duty in front of the dorms waved to the students.

    "Okay, volunteers,e on in."

    "If you''rete, you know, all the doors to the building will be closed, and we won''t be able to open them for you."

    "You are not allowed outside the dormitory after 10:00!"

    The curfew here at Indulgentia Orphanage is strangely strict.

    At night, the doors and windows of all the buildings are locked, and traffic is strictly prohibited.

    The dormitory supervisors are always roaming the halls, listening to the volunteers''ints, but Vikir realizes that it''s not for protection, but for monitoring.

    ''...especially in the dormitories where the children stay.''

    Even Vikir had never visited the children''s quarters at night before.

    Guards roamed the exterior of the building, and the four shadows of Guilty stood guard inside.

    Geronto, Hebe, Fedo, and Ephebo.

    I had never seen them, but I could smell their presence by the faint stench they emitted.

    As long as these four troublesome obstacles stood in his way, he could not move forward.

    So Vikir stood still and waited for the right time, when their scent would fade even further.

    And today, on the night the dark clouds swallowed the moon. It was time to hunt.

    Vikir made his way to the public shower room, stepped out of the shower, and wrapped a towel around himself.

    Dinner would be served in a few minutes, and then it would be time for bed.

    He dries off and heads to bed with a nonchnt attitude.

    "Hey, Vikir!"

    As nned, Tudor shoulders into Vikir.

    When Vikir turned his head, Tudor grinned evilly and whispered.

    "You, man. Look at those fucking abs. Who did you get ripped like this to kill?"

    Tudor chuckles and rubs Vikir''s stomach.

    Then he narrows his eyes and coaxes Vikir in a low voice.

    "That''s right. Are you just going to take this fine body of yours to bed tonight?"

    "Then what and where are we going?"

    "Come on, Vikir. When you die, your body rots and turns to dust. We need to use this young, limber body a little more efficiently. It''s for the greater good, isn''t it?"

    Tudor chuckled as he looked at Vikir''s public good(?) body.

    Sancho, who was next to him, looked down at Tudor in a pathetic way.

    "So, you''re talking at length about sneaking off to the girls'' dormitory at night. Is thising from a guy who ims to be a wannabe hero?"

    "There is a saying that a hero has his true colors. "Heroes naturally like colors."

    At Tudor''s words, Piggy, who was beside him, timidly asked.

    "Isn''t this a heroic lecher?"

    "Hahaha! Anyway, it''s a knight''s romance to find ady who will give him her all, and who can me me?"

    Tudor began to persuade Sancho and Piggy with a glint in his eye.

    "Isn''t it delightful to imagine," he said, "to cross the pitch-ck night, and the mighty boundary, and climb up the east wing of the castle wall, and meet her! If only there were no dragons in the way, it would be chivalrous literature! As you know, even the dormitories at our academy are strictly separated for men and women, and if it weren''t for this opportunity, I wouldn''t be able to spend a night in the same room with a woman for four years!"

    "Uh, what are you going to do with them?"

    "Yes, Piggy! That''s a good question! What do we do... just drink and hang out! We y drinking games and talk about more serious things, huh?"

    "Hmmm. Drinking games? You mean, like, drinking until one of us copses and dies?"

    "That''s a very Sancho opinion, why would you y that kind of game with girls, not that stupid northern drinking game, but a random game or a truth game or something!"

    Sancho, a native of the North, was intrigued by Tudor''sments, as his only experience with nightly drinking was with a group of sweaty men.

    Piggy, too, had never really talked to a girl her own age before, and looked at Tudor with half concern and half anticipation.

    "Hmmm. I''m all for it, but the question is whether the girls will like me, ... or think I''m a lust-blind muscr pig."

    "Whoa, hey, Sancho. Girls think the same way as boys, and I''ve already kissed with onedy during the day. We''ve arranged that if we go to the right ce at the right time, she''ll sneak out the back door to greet us."

    "Hey, can Ie too? I hope I won''t be too much of an annoyance...."

    "Haha! The more people the better, so we can share the punishment if we get caught, and Piggy! Be confident! You''re chubby and cute, so you''re secretly in high demand!"

    The conversation goes well(?).

    Having seeded in getting Sancho and Piggy on board, Tudor nervously turns his head.

    Vikir stood there, expressionless.

    Tudor looked at him and opened his mouth.

    "Uhm. Vikir. As much as I''ll try to keep you out of harm''s way as much as I can... since we''re sharing a room for four, I think it''s best if you have onest night of excitement for your memories....."

    "Let''s go."

    "Aww, don''t be so cut and dry about it... eh?"

    Tudor rolled his eyes.

    And so did Sancho and Piggy.

    Vikir made it clear again.

    "Let''s go. I like girls."

    "...."

    It was the most mismatched look and line in the world.

    Tudor stuttered and opened his mouth.

    "You do realize we''re not going to duel with girls, right? It''s socializing, you know."

    "I know."

    Vikir nodded, and Sancho and Piggy widened their eyes.

    "Vikir. You''re not sick, are you? Tell us if you are. My salve, made from herbs that grow in the north, heals even the mind...."

    "Vi, Vikir. What''s wrong with you? You usually had no interest in women... ... ?"

    Of course, as his friends had feared, Vikir had never been interested in women.

    But Vikir had something else in mind.

    ''Tonight is the best time to kill the demon ....''

    It was a moonless night, and the nocturnal world was the perfect hunting ground for the Night Hound.

    Vikir will sneak out of the dormitory under the guise of a group of men and women, and he''ll look for any loopholes in the rigorous guard.

    If he''s caught early on an assassination mission, he can use the other boys as an excuse.

    Boys of his age do that, girls of his age do that, and adults who see the innocent love of youth often smile tolerantly.

    Tudor is from the high nobility, and Sancho and Piggy are students at a young academy, so their identities are pretty much guaranteed.

    If Vikir is caught wandering the halls, he can probably get away with the excuse that he got lost looking for the girls'' quarters.

    Meanwhile, Tudor excitedly outlined the day''s n.

    "Great, Vikir''s on board, so all the boys in our room are going. When we hear the clock tower bell ringing at midnight, we''re going to pretend to go to the bathroom, then we''re going to go out into the hallway... and follow the exhaust vent in the ceiling... and climb up the water pipes... to where thetch on the first floor bathroom window in the girls'' dormitory is broken... and then we''re going to go up to the emergency exit, where the girls will write down the room number of today''s rendezvous point on a note and put it under the flower pot....."

    It was a fairly specific and thorough n for a kid''s rendezvous.

    Vikir''s rarely serious expression matched the innocence of the n.

    Therger the number of boys and girls involved in the n, the more room there was for distractions.

    " ... this way. Tonight, there''s a gap when the wardens on duty change. We''ll gather at the end of the emergency exit and leave when the midnight bell rings."

    The fluffy one-day puppies groan with excitement at the deviation they are experiencing for the first time in their lives.

    And then.

    Mixed among these little balls of fur was an experienced hunting dog hiding its sharp teeth.

 Chapter 151: The Drinking Game (1)

    <h4>Chapter 151: The Drinking Game (1)</h4>

    "He, help me. Vikir. Please, just once!"

    The budding Tudor, the wannabe superhero, always so proud and confident, is now pleading in a miserable position.

    "Ugh. I''m going to die like this. ...Yes, kill me. It''ll be impossible to beg for mercy from you, Vikir, anyway."

    Sancho, the next mercenary king aiming for the supremacy of the North, has an indomitable fighting spirit and also epts death without losing his will to fight.

    "Vikir, you betrayed me! How could you do this to me!"

    Piggy is just Piggy. But he trusts Vikir more than anyone else, so his frustration is deepest when a knife is plunged into his back at thest moment.

    ... But. Vikir killed his friends without mercy.

    "If you can''t do it, die."

    Vikir''s voice rang out dryly.

    Charak-.

    The cards moved.

    Colorful horses moved across the wide cardboard board.

    Vikir''s ck pieces devoured Tudor''s blue pieces, Sancho''s red pieces, and Piggy''s yellow pieces.

    At the same time, Tudor, Sancho, and Piggy were sent back to the starting line.

    ... along with three sses of punishment.

    "s, I lost again! Why is this bastard so good at board games?"

    "I think I''ve already drank a liter of punishment drink."

    "...I feel like I''m going to puke."

    Tudor, Sancho, and Piggy sulked as they watched the distance they''d worked so hard to travel on the board get reset in an instant, and as they watched their drinks pile up in front of them.

    Meanwhile, the girls were in a frenzy ofughter and chatter.

    "Hey Vikir, you''re really good at board games."

    "Do you have a trick for throwing the cards?"

    "You look like you''ve been ying games all day! Ho ho ho~"

    Churlish, light makeup, and a faint smell of soap instead of perfume.

    These are the usual attire of the normally modest academy girls.

    The male students who came to the girls'' roomte at night were enjoying the atmosphere of the drinking party with their hearts pounding.

    Late at night. The lovers(?) led by Tudor secretly escaped from the men''s dormitory and sneaked into the women''s dormitory.

    The girls had broken thetch on one corner of the window in the first-floor restroom, as arranged with the boys, and after sneaking in through the first floor, the boys managed to climb up the drainpipe to the second floor, then up the fire escape to the third floor, and finally to the girls'' floor on the fourth floor, which was forbidden territory.

    Of course, they were stopped a few times along the way by the on-duty officer, but the supervision of the wardens was unusuallyx today.

    Probably because they didn''t want to crack down too hard on young men and women''s secret meetings.

    ...Well, whatever.

    So here we are, boys and girls in a room ying a board game.

    The game is called Yut, and the penalties are mostly drinking punishment liquor, but there are also individual penalties written on the board for moving and settling the pieces.

    For example, "Hold the hand of your crush for 5 seconds," "Kiss the forehead of anyone wearing red for 10 seconds," "Hug the person in front of you for 30 seconds," etc.

    Almost every space had a non-punishable penalty, with the level increasing as you got closer to the goal.

    " ... is a thumb game, not a drinking game."

    Someone looking at the board grumbled.

    It was Bianca, sitting on the bed in her sweatpants.

    Tudor frowned.

    "Don''t you think you''re being a little too whiny about no one wanting to fuck you?"

    "I think you misspoke when you said no one wants to go out with you, asshole."

    Another war of words between Tudor and Bianca.

    Sinir, who was standing next to them, interrupted them.

    "Aww,e on, guys �C it''s fun drinking."

    Sinir smiles like a sweet puppy.

    As a model student, she always wore an elegant school uniform and had a wless image, but now that she is wearing a loose tank top and dolphin pants, she looks quite familiar.

    The boys began to murmur amongst themselves.

    ''...Hmm. Maybe we should have paid less attention to our clothes?''

    ''Are you stupid? You think they don''t care about their clothes? Those are theirbat uniforms, man.''

    Sancho and Tudor exchanged a look.

    "Yut."

    Vikir moved his horse again.

    Tudor and Sancho''s horses were eaten again.

    And then.

    "Yut."

    "Mo."

    "Yut."

    "Mo."

    "Yut."

    "Mo."

    "Do."

    Vikir''s ck horses serially ughtered, advancing and retreating strategically.

    "Aaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Hey, let''s get some other penalties!"

    "You''re just drinking yourself to death ...."

    Tudor and Sancho regretted bringing Vikir with them and picked up their sses of punishment liquor.

    Then.

    "Hey, hey, hey, hey... kids, even the students drink a little."

    It was St. Dolores.

    She, too, was sitting on the bed, dressedfortably in a stretched T-shirt and pajama pants.

    In fact, she was deep in thought.

    ''They''re volunteering during the Golden Week, so it''s okay for them to deviate once in a while. I''m not a jerk at this point, am I? Well, I should probably have a few drinks, just in case there''s an ident. Hmmm... look a little old-fashioned, too? Do I look like an asshole?''

    At Dolores'' troubled look, Tudor smirked and picked up the ss.

    "Don''t worry, Ms. President, this isn''t alcohol, it''s soda!"

    Suddenly, Dolores is relieved.

    Of course, she didn''t realize that some sodas also contain alcohol, although in trace amounts.

    Meanwhile, Vikir was still racing alone at the board game.

    Why is Vikir, who doesn''t usually like to be in the spotlight, doing so well in the game?

    ''... It reminds me of the old days.''

    It was the memories.

    The game.

    Four tiles are thrown, and depending on the situation in which they are flipped or flipped, Do (Pig), Gae (Dog), Geol (Sheep), Yut (Cow), and Mo (Horse) are selected and move forward or to the side.

    If you encounter an opponent''s horse along the way, you can eat it and send it back to the starting line.

    This board game was very popr among soldiers in the field, in ambush, or on standby during the Age of Destruction.

    Not because it was particrly fun, but because there were no other board games to y in the army''s internal affairs department.

    ''...I yed this game until I got sick of it while fighting in a five-minute standby in the trenches of Hill 7 on the Western Front.''

    In the midst of a protracted war and prolonged confrontation with the enemy, the soldiers lived a boring daily life.

    It was one of the few things they could do together as a group of men.

    Of course, at that time it was an outdated ssic game that was not yed by anyone except soldiers on the front lines, so there were many old people and outcasts who learned all kinds of unusual techniques...

    ''Now it''s a trendy board game that''s been around for a while.''

    That''s why there weren''t any skilled yers.

    Even Piggy, who is the second best board game yer right now, its throwing skills are terrible.

    ''If I throw ... like that, I''m going to lose to my fellow soldiers on the military sry.''

    Most soldiers on the front lines in the Age of Destruction would have had enough.

    Vikir wasn''t much of a gambler himself, but he''d been dragged by his superiors often enough to learn the tricks.

    ...Thud!

    Yut, and a thud to the back.

    Vikir''s ck piece moved forward and ate Sinir''s white piece, which was five squares ahead.

    Then, on the very next turn, it moves backward one space and eats another of Sinir''s white pieces.

    The two white horses are rolled back to the starting line at the end of the turn.

    Sinir, down two pieces, cries out.

    "Hyung! Are you a professional yer? Why are you so good? It''s bad enough that I lost in my studies, but now I''m losing in games...."

    He told her not to call him oppa, but she was calling him hyung.

    Tudor, who had five horses stolen by Vikir, asked Vikir with an shocked expression.

    "No, you''re good with your hands, you''re good with dice, you''re good with cards,... is there any game you can''t y?"

    "No."

    Vikir said firmly.

    Everyone in the room gasped at his overwhelming confidence.

    "Hey, Vikir, Vikir, can''t you give me a ride on your horse?"

    "Hey, I want to see your face, hehe, can''t you just take off your bangs?"

    "Let''s take off your sses, okay?"

    "Isn''t it stuffy, do you want me to cut your hair, especially those bangs...."

    Some of the girls sidled up to Vikir''s side and touched his arm, knee, etc.

    Then, another girl showed interest in Vikir.

    " ... You''re good at board games?"

    It was Dolores, the student council president.

    "And do you know how to y Go?"

    She didn''t know any other games, but she was confident in this one.

    Finally, Vikir nodded.

    "I can y some."

    "Really? What''s your level of Go(����)?"

    " ...about level 2."

    Doloresughed inwardly.

    ''Second-grade, that''s good enough to go out and show off.''

    For reference, she was a level 5 amateur.

    She was the top ace in her freshman year, and in her second year, she was the vice president of the Go Club, a position she held with great enthusiasm, because there was no one in her family who could y Go.

    ... although the club was closed after that because no new students came in.

    No one would y with her after that, and most of them didn''t know how to y in the first ce.

    Dolores also had a busy work schedule that made it difficult for her to y a game of Go, so the hobby naturally fell by the wayside.

    But here we have a kid who thinks he''s good at all board games. With only a second-grade skill.

    "Huh, Ms. President, are you going to y a game with Vikir?"

    "Sis, you''re awesome!"

    "The jack-of-all-trades vs. the newbie who specializes in board games! How''s that for a match?"

    The mood of the room was weing to Dolores'' participation.

    Dolores jumped out of bed, unable to resist the cheers.

    Until now, she''d watched from the sidelines because she didn''t know how to y board games, but this was different.

    The only board game she knew how to y, and the only one she was very good at, was Go.

    It''s been a long time since we''ve had a game like this.

    "Shall we have a little fun, then?

    The saint smiled as she held up the simple checkerboard Tudor had brought with him.

    Amateur level 5 hides his strength.

    The difference between Dolores'' power and Vikir''s was as great as the difference between heaven and earth.

    And she was keeping it a secret right now.

    "As for the penalty, how about a cup of punishment liquor per house?"

    The other students, who had been crushed by Vikir, cheered at Dolores''s bold provocation.

    And.

    "...OK."

    Vikir could only nod, as tasteless as ever.

 Chapter 152: The Drinking Game (2)

    <h4>Chapter 152: The Drinking Game (2)</h4>

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    A white, pure and spotless fortress.

    This spotless and virtuous white citadel has been invaded by hordes of dark evil for some time now.

    Vikir. And the ck cavalry, led by Vikir, split into several lines to attack the White Citadel.

    The Pdins of Dolores were helpless in front of this mysterious movement, which was like a ck cavalry unit, digging through the smallest of cracks, destroying the entire inside, and then breaking through the gap on the other side.

    ''This isn''t a level 2, did he trick me!

    Dolores rallied her remaining troops and reinforced the walls.

    The strongholds and outposts were made a little tighter, and the fortresses on the four corners of the city also had thicker walls.

    But once again, the ck cavalry broke through the snow-white walls and trampled on them.

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    What used to be white is now empty, and ck is taking its ce.

    "Oh, no! If we let any more in, we''re going to...!

    Dolores rallied her best troops, reinforced the walls of the citadel, and secured the passage.

    Thest bastion. Thest line. And like Althoran that guarantees unconditional victory if it can be defended.

    ...However, the premise is ''as long as you can keep it''.

    Once again, Vikir''s ck soldiers bared their fangs.

    ck auras, shaped like awls, pierce through white walls and ravaged the interior.

    The whitend inside that Dolores had defended so steadfastly was eventually covered in the ck marks of Vikir.

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    It all ended with the ck hound inside the protective box with its mouth wide open.

    "Adari."

    Vikir took the saint''s arm in his mouth.

    Now, if he bit down hard enough, her right arm would snap off.

    The same fate would eventually befall her left arm, then her right leg, then her left leg, then her torso, and finally her neck.

    Sweat began to trickle down Dolores''s forehead as she realized that the entire group was about to be annihted.

    ''What can I do? What can I do....''

    No matter how hard he tried, he couldn''t see a way out of the ck monster''s jaws.

    The feeling of defeat is already setting in.

    And Dolores couldn''t bring herself to admit it.

    After all, all go yers arepetitive.

    She had been through heaven and hell many times in the short time she had been in the game.

    And today, Dolores had met the right man.

    "It''s like a handshake at the end of the move."

    The attack on Vikir''s mind continued.

    Meanwhile, Vikir was a little surprised.

    ''... In today''s world, this is probably a level 5.''

    It wasn''t that Dolores was a bad yer, but rather that she was a better yer than he expected.

    Vikir had yed against quite a few people on the battlefield in boring confrontations before his regression.

    One of the sergeants, who was a good yer, said to him, "How''s your level?

    ''What''s your level of skill? I''m about a level one. Of course, I was rated before the war.''

    He said that at Vikir level, he would be at level 2 or 3.

    He''s a first-rate, and Vikir''s skills are only slightly below his own.

    ''Hahaha, after the War of Destruction against the Demon World, there were no organizations or tournaments to certify one''s strength.''

    Is that why? Vikir thought that he would be around the level 2 range, but it seemed that with proper verification, he would be much higher than that.

    And eventually.

    ...just like that!

    Thest stone hit the board, and Dolores''s head dropped.

    "...lost."

    Regardless of defeat. It doesn''t even make sense to calcte the house.

    Then, exmations followed from around the area.

    "Wow! This is the first time I''ve seen a saint give instructions in Go!"

    "Ms. President, didn''t you appear in the newspapers in your youth? As a Go prodigy."

    "Even when there was a Go club in Colosseo, our president was the one who single-handedly massacred the magic tower''s Go club and the Varangian''s Go club... ... How can this happen?"

    Since the other person is Dolores, everyone is cautious about what they say.

    It was a result that would not have been strange even if there had been harsh evaluations such as ''it was torn apart'' and ''it was ripped apart''.

    Vikir was just about to clean up the board.

    "Now, wait! One more game, one more game, this time in shorthand!"

    Dolores stretched out her hands and clung to Vikir''s.

    By nature, all Go yers arepetitive, especially those who are called geniuses.

    If nothing else, Dolores had apetitive streak in this area.

    In the end, Vikir epted Dolores'' offer.

    The game is called Shogi (����). The rules are simple. You have three seconds to decide on your next move.

    This would dramatically reduce the time it takes to y a game.

    Vikir and Dolores had moved to the front of Dolores''s bed so as not to disturb the other students'' drinking.

    The students, however, followed closely behind them with their drinks in hand, sitting in a circle around the board where the game was being yed.

    Apparently it was fun to watch.

    "This is surprisingly fun. Go."

    "Yeah, I used to get bored watching my dad y."

    "I don''t know, did you just put the boss and Vikir in a tense situation?"

    "I don''t know, but... I do know that it wasn''t a close game."

    On the battlefield, where everyone''s eyes are on the saintess''s white and Vikir''s ck, they sh ferociously.

    ...Bam!

    ...click!

    ...click!

    ...click!

    ...click!

    ...click!

    ...click!

    ...click!

    ck and white shed across the board at breakneck speed.

    Then a dry voice escaped from Vikir''s mouth.

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    "All clear."

    The moment Dolores heard those words, she thought seriously.

    " ... Should I turn it upside down?

    It was a violent thought that I had never had in the past dozen years.

    But as she felt the stares around her, she couldn''t help but say the words in a stifled voice.

    "... I lost."

    The students around them, who had been watching the fight without breathing, let out a collective gasp.

    Sinir broke out in a cold sweat.

    "I thought I was pretty good at Go, but... can''t read my hyung''s moves."

    Piggy nodded in agreement.

    "In the first ce, Vikir''s style isn''t the style nowadays. None of the current knights y like this, and it''s obviously not a good move, so how can he y like this?"

    Dolores, on the other hand, could not hide her bewilderment.

    Go is all about building a house.

    But Vikir was acting like he didn''t care about the house.

    It was a mess, a dog fight.

    Instead of building his own house, Vikir was all-in on destroying his opponent''s house.

    Vikir bites and bites and bites like a madman with no backbone, and Dolores ends up with both hands and feet.

    "...."

    Vikir smiled bitterly at Dolores, who shook her head in disbelief.

    As I have said before, those who have not lived through war will never understand those who have.

    When the age of destruction came, there was no point in building a house or raising a family.

    You never knew when the demons would attack and wipe out your family.

    The only way to live was to roam the battlefield and destroy the enemy''s strongholds first.

    It was this atmosphere, momentum, and values that created Vikir''s y style, but Dolores and the other students didn''t realize it.

    "Ugh, I don''t know much about Go, but I can tell he''s a mad dog."

    "It''s a mad dog style... Well, it has its own charm."

    Tudor and Bianca nodded in agreement.

    But to Dolores, none of this chatter fell on her ears.

    Who am I, where am I, and where am I going?

    After all, everyone has a board game to be proud of.

    We all have a board game we''re proud of. ...until we get robbed by the wrong person.

    And once that happens, your whole world is turned upside down.

    No matter how undefeated you''ve been, you can lose all your confidence in a single defeat.

    In the end, Dolores was forced to swallow her punishment once again.

    "...gulp."

    A burpes from drinking too much soda.

    Dolores tried desperately to hide her bulging belly and burp.

    Then.

    A hup!

    She started to hup.

    "...What the hell?"

    Dolores turned her head to look at the students around her.

    All of them were smiling from ear to ear.

    Dolores quickly checked thebel on the ss bottle of soda.

    Sure enough, it contained too much alcohol to be called a drink.

    "You guys tricked me... hup!"

    Dolores''s face began to grow redder and redder.

    She feels hot and sweaty.

    In a room stacked high with empty liquor bottles, the air was getting hotter and hotter, with red-faced boys and girls mingling with each other.

    ... Just then.

    Thud, thud, thud, thud.

    Footsteps began to pound outside the door.

    Dolores felt the drunkenness that had been creeping up on her a moment ago begin to fade.

    "Herees the supervisor!"

    Everyone in the room jolted awake at the sound of Dolores'' words.

    It was as if they had been sshed with cold water.

    "Bottles! Hide the bottles first!"

    "Ouch! The ceiling panel suddenly won''t open, and the window is too narrow to get out!"

    "Where do we hide the boys?"

    "In the bed, under the covers, everyone!"

    "Ha, but what about the men and women?"

    "Don''t be ridiculous! He''s a man after all... ... ."

    "Shut up and turn off the lights! Turn off the lights first!"

    Everyone was in a panic.

    And in that atmosphere.

    ...Bang!

    I heard the sound of a key opening the door.

    Click.

    The supervisor entered the room.

 Chapter 153: The Drinking Game (3)

    <h4>Chapter 153: The Drinking Game (3)</h4>

    ...Bam!

    The female supervisor in charge of the girls'' dormitory opens the door and peers into the room.

    "Isn''t it strange, I thought I heard something?"

    It''s a quiet room, with only the window faintly illuminating the darkness, and a dark cloud slowly gathering outside.

    saegsaeg-

    If you listen closely, you can hear small gasps of breath.

    The supervisor looks around the room, careful not to wake the students.

    ....

    Everyone is sleeping quietly on their beds. With the covers pulled over their heads.

    Not seeing anything out of the ordinary, she scratched her head.

    "Did I hear something wrong?"

    But she wouldn''t know. That she always heard.

    In fact, there was something quite bizarre going on inside the lump of nkets that nowy on the bed.

    ''Hey, get off me-it''s too close.''

    "How am I supposed to get out of here, am I going to get expelled?''

    Bianca is lying in bed, covered head to toe in nkets.

    Beneath her is Tudor, now sprawled out in a stiff position.

    The two of them are always at loggerheads, and even in this situation, they were fighting.

    ''Oh shit, why did you have to get into my bed!''

    "I had no choice, I was in an emergency!

    "It''s dirty, don''t whisper in my ear, you''re breathing on me!''

    ''Shhh! We''re going to get caught!''

    Tudor and Bianca pressed their pounding hearts against each other''s chests.

    When both of them slightly raise their heads, the supervisor''s shadow, bathed in moonlight, can be seen faintly prating across the white nket.

    ''.....Hic!''

    Both Tudor and Bianca were startled by the shadow of the supervisor who hade so close that they clung to each other even closer.

    Forgetting their usual grudges, they hugged each other tightly.

    It did lower the height of the oddly shaped lump of futon a bit.

    And it was amon urrence in all the other beds.

    Meanwhile.

    ''....''

    Dolores, lying on the bed, covered with a nket, was recalling the events of a few moments ago.

    ...Let''s see, how did this happen?

    Seconds before the door opened, she blew out the candles and quickly jumped into bed.

    It all happened in a split second.

    The girls, the original upants of the room, jumped into their beds, and the boys who were closest to them followed suit.

    A nket was pulled over them and the lights went out.

    Dolores was a genius with extraordinary powers of observation and memory, and she was able to recall exactly which boys went into which girls'' beds just before the lights went out.

    "I''m pretty sure Tudor went to Bianca''s bed, Piggy went to Sinir''s bed, and Sancho went to....

    The faces of the boys and girls alternated in my mind.

    Luckily, the sex ratio was just right, with one girl hiding one boy.

    And that means... Dolores also has to hide one boy in her bed.

    ''And in my bed?''

    Dolores remembered the face of the boy closest to her.

    Vikir.

    Dolores''s face instantly brightened at the memory of his nonchnt expression.

    Soon he wille into her own nket.

    Her heart thumped wildly at the thought.

    ''Ugh, what should I do! oh my god!''

    I''ve never seen anything like this before, and I don''t know what to do.

    Dolores closed her eyes tightly as she felt her hands gripping the corners of the nket bing damp.

    ....

    ... but?

    Time passed, but Vikir didn''t crawl under the nkets.

    At this point, it was Dolores who was burning up.

    What in the world was he doing in this desperate situation, when the supervisor could being in any moment?

    "...?"

    Dolores pushed the nkets down slightly and looked out of bed.

    By this time, Vikir was standing still, staring silently at the corner of the ceiling.

    ''It''s about time.''

    The boys were moderately drunk and moderately entertained.

    They should all be in bed now, sleeping or heading back to their dorms.

    Vikir had nned to take advantage of this to escape through a hole in the ceiling and assassinate Guilty.

    He had enough alibis by now.

    ''If I disappeared like this anyway, you would think I would have been scared and gone back to the men''s dormitory.''

    So Vikir chose this moment to disappear out of sight.

    Just as he was about tounch himself toward the ceiling.

    ''What do you think you''re doing!''

    A hand grabbed the hem of Vikir''s robe.

    It was St. Dolores, pulling Vikir to her feet with her whirling eyes.

    "...?"

    Dolores was so flustered that even Vikir was flustered with her.

    With a face covered in cold sweat and rolling eyes, she grabbed Vikir by the hem of his clothes and pulled him into her nket.

    "Wait, wait...."

    There was no time for Bikir to make excuses.

    The nket was pulled over him, and he found himself on top of Dolores.

    And at that point.

    kkiiig...

    The door opened and the supervisor walked in.

    * * *

    "Did I hear wrong?"

    The voice came from outside the futon, from the bedside.

    Dolores felt her eyes roll back in her head and shouted.

    ''No! You heard me right! I''m sorry! I''m sorry!''

    Vikir is lying t on top of her.

    They were now so close that the tips of their noses touched and crumpled slightly.

    ''...ha.''

    Vikir sighed lowly.

    If he missed this opportunity, he might never get another chance to y a demon, and he shouldn''t be wasting his time here.

    But Vikir''s sigh seemed to mean something else to Dolores.

    ''Hot, hot!''

    Her ears burned as if they were on fire from another''s breath.

    The saint flinched involuntarily as she felt her entire body tickle.

    At the same time, a great trial came upon Dolores.

    Yao Yi.

    I''ve been drinking too much soda, or rather, too much alcohol, since I lost the game of Go earlier, and I''m starting to belch and my stomach is bloated.

    Vikir''s body was pressing heavily on my lower abdomen, making me feel even more sick.

    Dolores cried out desperately inwardly, not to God, but to the supervisor, who stood outside the futon.

    ''Please, please go back!''

    But whether or not she realized the wishes of everyone in the room, she continued to look around the room.

    "Hmm, a little dry. I don''t want the Academy''s volunteers to get sore throats. Shall I sprinkle some water on the floor?"

    "The windows are rattling in the breeze, in case you''re a light sleeper."

    "Is the room at the right temperature? I hope it''s not too cold, seeing as how you''re all sleeping with your nkets over your heads?"

    Ironically, the supervisor''spassion was making everyone suffer even more.

    Especially Dolores, who was holding her urine inside the nket.

    ''A restroom! I''d do anything for a restroom!''

    Dolores gritted her teeth and pushed with all her might.

    And Vikir had to be embarrassed by Dolores'' inappropriate grip(?).

    "...?

    Dolores was squeezing Vikir''s waist with both thighs.

    It was a necessary action, but one that Vikir didn''t know enough about to understand.

    Vikir was just about to pull himself away from Dolores.

    ...Thud!

    Dolores raised her hands and grabbed Vikir''s back.

    Dori-dori-

    She pleaded desperately.

    ''Please don''t fall off!''

    She said with her eyes, something like that.

    If Vikir, who was now pressing down on her lower abdomen, were to move, the slightest shift in weight would cause drastic changes in her body.

    But Vikir doesn''t understand Dolores'' desperate gaze.

    Boosh.

    Vikir removes himself from Dolores'' belly.

    ''...It leaked.''

    Dolores felt her body rx slightly.

    She wondered if Vikir, on top of her, had noticed. And what if he did?

    ''Oh, no, I don''t think he noticed.''

    At most, the lower half of my body is very slightly, minimally wet.

    I''ve got clothes, I''ve got a nket, I''m sweating, and the situation is so urgent, I don''t think he''d notice.

    Just as Dolores is slipping into a trance with her spinning eyes and blurred vision.

    ...kwang!

    Above Dolores'' head, a palm mmed into the bed near the bedpost.

    Oops. She was standing right in front of Dolores'' bed.

    Everyone in the room froze at the unexpectedly loud sound.

    Especially Dolores, who heard it right in front of her.

    The moonlight shadow of the supervisor loomed very close over the white sheets.

    Did we get caught? Did we finally get caught?

    A second stretched into a year of silence in the room.

    ....

    Finally, the supervisor muttered to herself.

    "...Wow, it''s hot and there are mosquitoes in this weather."

    She held up her palm and winced.

    "Oh, no. Look at me. Oops, that was loud. I''m sorry about the volunteers-"

    She bowed to the already sleeping girls a few times before stepping back and then hurried out of the room.

    Chirp- Thud!

    The door ms shut and his footsteps echo down the hall.

    After a few moments of silence, the nkets on the bed began to be pulled back one by one.

    "Whoa- I thought I was going to get caught."

    "I was so freaked out, I cried a little."

    "That was a thrill, man. Haha!"

    The boys and girls said as they pushed themselves up onto the bed one by one.

    "...."

    "...."

    Some, like Tudor and Bianca, were blushing as they red at each other like they were going to kill each other, but most seemed to think it was just a pleasant affair.

    ... but.

    Only one person here. There was one person who was not pleased about this.

    "...! ...! ...! ...! ...! ...!"

    St. Dolores. The academy''s student council president.

    Even though the supervisor returned, she was still unable to take off the nket ande out.

    ''What should I do, what should I do, what should I do, what should I do, what should I do, what should I do, what should I do, what should I do, what should I do...''

    Cold sweat pours out like rain, my eyes are spinning and my vision is blurry.

    ...I did it. I did it.

    A warm and wet feeling was already rising from the lower part of my body.

    I''ve lost a Go game and had too much to drink. the amount was no joke. This is an overwhelming wetness that cannot even be called sweat or moisture.

    I don''t even know if the liquor had many vitamins and even the color... ...

    It wouldn''t be a problem if I just threw away my bed, nket, and clothes, but I can''t even hide the fact that Vikir''s pants, which were close to me, werepletely soaked, there was no way I could hide it.

    And what about the smell?

    What would happen if the world found out?

    The image of the noble andpassionate student council president that I''ve been building up will be destroyed.

    With about two years to go until graduation, it was obvious what kind of nickname would follow.

    ''Pisser.''

    Not bad. Dolores would probably suffer from this nickname for years.

    It would tarnish the reputation of the Quovadis family, and it would provide a good excuse for enemies within the family.

    Dolores cringed at the prospect of such a negative future.

    Is that why? She was still sobbing in her nket, even though all the students had thrown off their covers and gotten out of bed.

    She didn''t even know how to look at Vikir''s face, which was now on top of her.

    ... Just then.

    Grasp!

    The nket was pulled back relentlessly.

    Vikir had pushed Dolores out of the way.

    There was no hesitation, no mercy.

    ''Ah!''

    Dolores was dumbfounded, realizing that this was it.

    Now Vikir would express his displeasure at having something dirty on him, and the mood in the room would quickly turn awkward.

    The mood will bepletely ruined, the drinks will be spilled, and there will be plenty of gossip to go around.

    My head was spinning.

    A cold sweat had already drenched my entire body.

    My body is hot and my tongue refuses to listen.

    ''... Should I just jump out?''

    Dolores is staring out the window, thinking the most extreme thoughts.

    One word brought her back to her senses.

    "No more drinking."

    Vikir''s raspy bass voice drew everyone''s attention.

    Tudor looked puzzled as he pulled the remaining bottle from under the bed.

    "What do you mean, the night is just beginning, the drinking game is just beginning!"

    "No. It ends here."

    "...?"

    Neither Tudor nor Sancho nor Piggy shake their heads, as it''s the first time they''ve ever heard Vikir be so assertive.

    Then.

    Vikir threw off the nketpletely and stepped into everyone''s view.

    His pants were soaked, yellow and wet.

    Everyone''s eyes widened at the sight of them.

    Naturally, the gaze that lingered on Vikir''s lower half turned to Dolores'' lower half on the bed.

    The bed and the nkets, equally wet and yellowed.

    The expressions on the faces of every man and woman in the room were one of horror.

    Dolores covers her face with her hands as the stares fall like arrows.

    Frustration, despair, shame, self-destruction, anguish, wailing, screaming, feeling her own self plummeting into the abyss of it all.

    ....

    ... But at that very moment.

    There was a saving grace that pulled Dolores back from her downward spiral.

    "I''ve been drinking and pissing myself."

    It was Vikir''s touch.

 Chapter 154: How to keep your night shift employees safe (1)

    <h4>Chapter 154: How to keep your night shift employees safe (1)</h4>

    "That''s what happened. I''m sorry."

    Vikir turned around and apologized.

    Dolores, nk-faced, was unable to respond.

    And the others surrounding them couldn''t help but misunderstand his nk expression.

    "Vikir! Are you crazy! Why are you so bold!"

    "The saint is in shock!"

    "Aaaah! Sister, quickly go to the shower room! I will help you!"

    Who in the world would pee on a saint''s belly?

    It was hard to believe what was happening.

    Tudor, Sancho, and Piggy were stunned by this unprecedented disaster.

    Sinir and Bianca are also at a loss for words, their mouths gaping like koi fish.

    Only one. Only Vikir remained calm and rational.

    "A person can drink and make mistakes."

    That''s what Vikir said to Dolores, trying tofort her.

    He was trying to tell her not to worry too much.

    But for the other students watching, it was just too much.

    "Saint. Let''s dere a crusade."

    "Vikir! Get down on your knees and pray, or you''re expelled!"

    "A crusade! There''s going to be a Crusade of the Quovadis!"

    Meanwhile.

    "...."

    Dolores''s mouth dropped open, but she couldn''t say anything.

    His vision was spinning.

    ''...What the hell is going on here? Why is everyone yelling at Vikir? I''m the one who peed.''

    Thoughts raced through her mind, paralyzing her.

    Panic. For the first time, she lost her cool.

    Normally, she would have epted being called a pisser, but she wouldn''t have put her stigma on others.

    But Dolores was in such a state of shock that she couldn''t tell if this was really real or a nightmare.

    That''s why she''s sitting on the bed with her mouth half-open, unable to speak.

    She is even showing signs of temporary aphasia.

    Sinir and Bianca are on either side of Dolores, who looks like a lost soul.

    "Ms. President. Let''s get you to the bathroom first."

    "Don''t you guys look away! I''m going to stab you with an arrow!"

    Sinir and Bianca scooped up the half-fainted Dolores and ran to the bathroom.

    The rest of the girls looked on and began to clean up Dolores'' bed.

    The boys look on, unable to move.

    Next. Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and the other boys surrounded Vikir and asked in disbelief.

    "Vi, Vikir. Did you really pee yourself, didn''t you? Please tell us you didn''t."

    "You must have just sweat... explosively on your lower body, right, buddy?"

    "Please, Vikir, at this rate you''re not just going to be called a pisser; you pissed on a saint''s belly, that''s sphemy!"

    But Vikir was not listening to his friends.

    He had taken on Dolores'' shame for two reasons.

    The first was as a small repayment for the blessing he had received from St. Dolores before his return.

    Dolores, then known as the Saintess of the Battlefield, had brought countless wounded soldiers back from the brink of death, and Vikir was one of them.

    Though Dolores had no memory of Vikir''s name or face at the time, Vikir had not forgotten her grace in his second life.

    And the second is assassination.

    Guilty. I must kill him before this night is over.

    In truth, I didn''t have much time for such childish games.

    I must finish my drink quickly.

    But then the saint gave me a good excuse.

    "I''m sorry, friends. When I drink, I turn into a dog."

    A dog is a dog. A hunting dog.

    Vikir apologized, and his friends were surprisingly forgiving.

    "Ugh, you''ve ruined the party. Oh well."

    "Well, it''s definitely a memorable night, though."

    " Vikir... I''ll find you a good transfer school. I''ll always remember it. hik... hik hik...."

    Tudor and Sanchoughed hysterically, while Piggy cried for Vikir''s future.

    Piggy could see how hard it would be for Vikir to do well in school now that he had been spotted by the saint, and by all the girls in this room.

    ...Of course.

    "Then let''s go back now. Sorry about the cleaning. Tell the saint to charge me for theundryter."

    Although Vikir himself didn''t seem to mind at all.

    * * *

    Late at night.

    The boys who had infiltrated the girls'' dormitory had returned to the boys'' dormitory under the cover of night.

    Just before returning to their respective rooms, Vikir purposelygged, alone.

    "I''m going to stop by theundry room for a while."

    He had a good excuse �C he needed to wash his pee pants �C so he didn''t arouse suspicion.

    Tudor, Sancho, and Piggy patted Vikir on the back as he headed for theundry room.

    "Come on, Vikir. I am your friend, even if you turn the faith religion into an enemy. Our Spear will be your strength."

    "If you are expelled, don''t worry about finding a job. I will rmend you to the Mercenary Guild of the North. With my rmendation, you should be able to get an office position."

    "Come on, guys, let''s leave Vikir alone. I''m on your side, of course! I''m amoner, but I''m sure that my family can help you if you need it!"

    With that, everyone hurried into the room, as if to give Vikir some time alone.

    Until the door closed behind them, they were still talking about Vikir.

    What... ''Even a saint wouldn''t expel him,'' ''If we''re going to make this a public issue, we''ll have to reveal that we''ve been sneaking drinks at night, and that''s going to hurt everyone,'' ''I hope this incident stays quiet,'' and so on.

    Meanwhile.

    "...."

    Vikir returned to theundry room, stripped off his wet clothes, and quickly changed into the outfit he had hidden away.

    The Night Hound.

    Wrapped in ck cloth and a gue doctor''s mask over his face, he looked like an unstoppable monster.

    The hound is now on the hunt.

    ''The timing was not bad.''

    Tudor and Bianca had organized the boys'' and girls'' meetings so well that they already knew the supervisor''s shifts and patrol routes.

    They had also memorized theyout and shape of each building from their volunteer work.

    Vikir quickly scaled theundry room''s window ledge and scaled the opposite building''s exterior wall.

    He was able to find his way around with his eyes closed because he had worked so hard in the past.

    Vikir scaled an old drainage pipe he had drilled, crossed the roof of a building he had repaired, and moved from building to building through a window he had installed.

    The drainpipe was welded together at various joints for him to grab and climb, and the building roof was carved with recesses for him to crawl under and hide.

    Even the bare walls, which originally had no windows, had red bricks cut into them for easy ess.

    The chimneys on the roof, theundry room, the shower, the toilet, the hallway windows, etc.

    Then.

    Vikir faced a circr group of buildings that surrounded Guilty''s quarters in fouryers.

    The first was the building 4, which housed children aged 17-19.

    The second is the building 3, which housed children aged 13-16.

    The third is the building 2, which housed children aged 8-12.

    The fourth was Building 1, which housed the newborns.

    Only after passing through these four buildings and going deeper and deeper inside did Vikir find the room where Guilty was sleeping.

    Vikir slid across the roof andnded at the back door of Building 4.

    When he shakes the ss window at the end of the hallway he had previously loosened, thetches off, and the window opens.

    ...Rattle, rattle, rattle-

    With a ghostly movement, Vikir climbed through the window and was immediately confronted with the dark, silent corridor of Building 4.

    And then.

    "...!"

    Vikir found a notice posted on the other side of a hallway as quiet as a tomb.

    It was grim and meaningful enough to hold Vikir''s gaze for a moment as he walked deeper into the hallway.

    -This orphanage provides the following rules of conduct for the safety of night shift staff.

    ��The information below must never be disclosed to the outside world, and this Orphanage will not provide anypensation for idents that vite these items.

 Chapter 155: How to keep your night shift employees safe (2)

    <h4>Chapter 155: How to keep your night shift employees safe (2)</h4>

    -This orphanage provides the following rules of conduct for the safety of employees who work at night.

    Please do not disclose the following information to anyone outside the nursery, and the nursery will not provide anypensation for idents caused by viting these items.

    This sign was obviously not there when I arrived during the day.

    "...For the safety of our night staff."

    Vikir muttered to himself.

    Below the sign,

    there were a number of caveats.

    (1). If you see a child alone in the hallway during your nightly patrol, ignore them and go back the way you came.

    If the child approaches you or tries to put something in your hand, immediately leave the area as quickly as possible.

    We strictly prohibit children from walking in the hallways at night and will never leave a child alone without a guardian under any circumstances.

    (2). If a group of children approaches the guardhouse and tells you that there is a problem with the water pipe in room 66 on the 6th floor of the main building, reply that you understand and then lock the door to the guardhouse.

    Afterward, hum your favorite song. ''They'' hate the sound of singing.

    For your information, there are a total of 65 rooms on the 6th floor of the main building, and room 66 does not exist in this building.

    (3). Masturbation is absolutely prohibited in this orphanage, regardless of gender.

    Anytime, anywhere, in any manner.

    (4). If, while patrolling the halls, you find that no matter how far you walk, you never seem to get to your destination, and you keep seeing the same scenery over and over again, you should immediately exit by the fire escape stairs, crouch down with your forehead against the wall in the corner, close your eyes, and cover your ears.

    Daytime security guards check the fire escape stairs first thing when they arrive for work.

    Stay in that position until morning when you hear chickens crowing.

    * If there is anything else on the list below that negates item #4, you should never pay attention to it.

    (5). asionally, a body is found that hasmitted suicide. This is amon urrence in other orphanages, so you can follow the usual protocols.

    However, if you find the body of a child hanging in a very ordinary ce, be careful.

    Calmly check to see if there''s anything to step on and if there isn''t, and you''re wondering how a child could have gotten up there and hanged himself, immediately leave the area as fast as you can, go into the security office, turn off the lights, and lock the door.

    Note the order very carefully, it''s turn off the lights and lock the door, not lock the door and turn off the lights.

    Also, in this case, you should never sing. You shouldn''t even make a breathing sound if you can help it.

    ''It'' has darkened ears.

    (6). If you''re patrolling a hallway and there''s nothing around you, but you hear something like a strange breathing sound in your ear, immediately get low and get on the floor.

    Then crouch down and make yourself as small as possible and likewise make no sound.

    If the sound subsequently stops, call another employee to locate and clean the stain on the ceiling.

    (7). There are always two night patrols at all times, no exceptions, no exceptions, absolutely no exceptions.

    (8). If there is someone hanging out in the center of theke above the nursery, never go near it, and lock all hallway doors.

    You should also lock all the windows in the ceiling and at the top of the attic on the top floor.

    For reference, theke is 35 meters deep.

    (9). You should never knock on an empty room. Do not pull a locked door handle more than three times.

    And under no circumstances should you put your ear to the door and eavesdrop on anything.

    (10). If a child you don''t recognizees up to you and asks for the name or address of the night patrol, etc., you should never answer.

    If you are dutifully wearing your name badge, there is no reason to ask for your name, and your address is personal information, and the orphanage bws do not allow you to ask for it.

    Also, as in paragraph (1), the orphanage does not leave children alone without a guardian.

    (11). If you see a group of children in the center of the stairs on the 6th floor of the main building, Room 6, with only their upper bodies over the railing, asking for help, do not take a single step closer.

    You should leave the area as quickly as possible without looking back.

    Also, try to yell or sing as loudly as possible.

    Due to the structure of the building, this location is just an ordinary wall and there is no 7th floor in the main building.

    (12). If you need to go to the restroom during a night shift, be sure to take apanion with you.

    No matter how often or how inconvenient, you should always have at least two people in the restroom.

    But the best thing to do is to avoid going to the restroom at night.

    (13). If you are walking down the hallway and hear a moan from within the walls,ugh out loud immediately.

    You shouldugh until the moans turn into cries.

    If the cries then stop, leave the area as quickly as possible, go to the guardhouse, and lock the door.

    And do not check the attendance of the children in the nursery for three days, starting with the next morning''s check-in.

    (14). Item 4 doesn''t exist in this handbook; any nursery would leave that ominous number nk.

    If you see something written in the number 4, always do the opposite of what it says.

    Never follow number 4.

    *If you see anything else in the list above that negates #14, don''t pay attention to it.

    It seems like a strange list of rules.

    Vikir nodded, sensing the ominous vibe of the notice.

    ''... Shallow tricks.''

    The usual tricks of the demons, feeding off of human fear.

    If the night guard did indeed see something, it would be dismissed as a simple matter of discipline.

    Vikir ignored the notice and stumbled through the darkness of the corridor.

    The guardhouse in the center lobby of the corridor was unlit, its door firmly shut, and not a single breath escaping from within.

    ''The night watch must have seen something.''

    This will make my job easier.

    Vikir stepped quietly past the front of the guardhouse and made his way to the back of the third building.

    Just then.

    "...!"

    Vikir stopped in his tracks.

    At the end of a long hallway. There was a figure standing there.

    A girl in a white pajamas, standing still and staring this way.

    It was Nymphet.

    "...."

    Nymphet stared at Vikir with a strange expression on her face, and then she disappeared down the other side of the corridor.

    Vikir quickly scrambled to his feet and headed back to where Nymphet had been.

    But when he rounded the corner, the Nymphet was gone, leaving only a torn piece of curtain lying on the floor.

    "What was that? Did I see something?

    Vikir furrowed his brow and bent down to pick up the piece of curtain from the floor.

    And then. The words on the curtain were imprinted deeply on Vikir''s retina.

    ''Help me.''

    Suddenly, Vikir''s mind shed back to item number one on the sign.

    ''This is a very unpleasant ce.''

    Vikir immediately began to chase after Nymphet.

    Theyout of the building was clear in his mind.

    Vikir focuses on the spaces where Nymphet could disappear from view in an instant.

    But something doesn''t feel right.

    ''...Is this ...?

    Vikir realizes that from the moment he saw the Nymphet, he''s been seeing the same scene over and over again around every corner in the hallway.

    Same walls, same ceiling, same floor, same windows, same view out the window.

    Vikir''s brow furrowed slightly.

    ''Illusion? Trap?''

    Naturally, his mind shed back to the sign he''d seen earlier.

    Number 4. And number 14.

    ''Did it say to take the fire escape stairs, crouch against the wall in the corner, close your eyes, and wait until dawn?''

    But at the very end, in #14, it vehemently denies it.

    Which option, then, should we follow, number 4 or number 14?

    Vikir turns his head and sees a staircase leading to an emergency exit, illuminated by a green manamp.

    He''s trapped in abyrinth of corridors, so he might as well get out through the emergency exit.

    Kkigigigig...

    Vikir twisted the rusted handle of a door at the far end of the corridor and pushed it open.

    Stairs glowing dimly in green. An eerie shadow.

    Where?

    The door swung open and an unexpected scene came into Vikir''s view.

    There was one passenger who came before Vikir on the emergency exit stairs.

    "My Lord in the heavens. Hallowed be thy name, on earth as it is in heaven, thy will be done... lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil....."

    The shivering woman with her eyes tightly closed is clearly Dolores, the student council president and saint.

    She had been reciting the Lord''s Prayer with her forehead pressed against the wall of the emergency exit.

    Vikir couldn''t help but sigh softly behind his mask.

    ''... What the hell is she doing here?''

 Chapter 156: How to Keep Your Night Shift Employees Safe (3)

    <h4>Chapter 156: How to Keep Your Night Shift Employees Safe (3)</h4>

    Vikir let out a light sigh.

    ''...What the hell is she doing here?

    St. Dolores. Wasn''t she supposed to be in the showers?

    And why is she in Building 4 at thiste hour? It''s a long way from the girls'' dormitories....

    Vikir adjusted the mask that covered her face once more.

    He prepared to modte his voice.

    He reached out a finger and tapped Dolores on the shoulder.

    "And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us ..., and do not lead us into temptation, but deliver us from evil... kya-ak!?"

    At Vikir''s touch, Dolores jumped in surprise, almost fainting.

    She squeezed her eyes shut even tighter and began to shake. She was so frightened that she didn''t even bother to open her eyes.

    "Ha, our Father in heaven...."

    "Stop saying the Lord''s Prayer. Just open your eyes."

    Vikir said, deliberately scratching his voice.

    Dolores opened one eye from behind her sped hands.

    "Huh?"

    Only then did Dolores'' expression turn to one of horror.

    After staring at Vikir''s mask for a long moment, Dolores stammered.

    "Nigh, Night Hound...?"

    "It''s been a while."

    Vikir nodded, and Dolores looked mesmerized once more.

    Finally, she managed to speak.

    "It''s been a long time... to see you."

    Dolores has a million things she wants to say, but her mouth is too small.

    Her heart clenches in her chest, not knowing what to say.

    Why he''d disappeared without a word as soon as the gue was over, why he''d been raiding the branches of the Quovadis, where and how he''d been, and what... really was.

    There were so many things I wanted to ask.

    At such a young age, she had easily taken on the roles of the Academy''s third-year student council president, head of the newspaper department, and patron saint of the Quovadis family, but right now she was fidgeting like a normal seventeen-year-old girl.

    Vikir, meanwhile, gets straight to the point.

    "Why are you here?"

    "I... That is."

    Dolores began to squirm, this time for apletely different reason.

    She was recalling something that had happened only a few minutes ago.

    * * *

    After the boys had gone back to their room, Dolores came to her senses.

    "...Hot!?"

    Dolores washed herself thoroughly with warm water and returned to her room to find her bedding crisp and clean.

    Her roommates had already cleaned the bed.

    ''I''m in trouble!''

    Dolores, who was barely conscious, realized the gravity of the situation.

    She had peed on herself, but her friend had taken the me.

    Even though he was the victim of her own pee!

    As if apologizing wasn''t bad enough, he''d also been used. The roles of victim and perpetrator werepletely reversed.

    If Dolores stays silent, Vikir will be portrayed in the worst possible light.

    A freshman was used of peeing on a senior, a student body president.

    Judging by the prity of the passionate fan clubs within the Academy who regarded Dolores'' beauty as sacred, this was a serious matter that could have resulted in threats of assassination.

    ''That can''t happen! We have to fix this!''

    It''s toote, but a job must be done.

    Dolores walked over to the group of girls gossiping.

    They were talking about the incident that had just urred, and they were gossiping about Vikir.

    "Such dignity after pissing on a saint''s belly. Don''t you think it''s kind of cool, even though he''s an asshole?"

    "The sight of that unbnced figure standing proudly even in wet pants made me feel a little heartbroken... ... ."

    "There''s something about that nerdiness that makes me feel strangely maternal... I just want to protect him. Change his diaper. Feed him milk."

    It''s a bit of an odd direction for a conversation to take.

    But Dolores didn''t hear it. So she closed her eyes tightly and told the truth.

    "Girls, Vikir didn''t do anything wrong, and I peed on him!"

    The girls'' eyes widened.

    ....

    After a few moments of silence, everyone, including Bianca, sighed and tapped Dolores on the shoulder.

    "Really, the president is a saint."

    "Sis, you shouldn''t have to bear the insult of being called a pisser for him."

    "Your sacrifice is admirable, and if it were me, I don''t think even my best friend would have gone that far, let alone a junior who''s not even close to me...."

    No one seemed to believe Dolores.

    "Oh, no! Believe me, it was really me who peed earlier, not Vikir...!"

    Out of frustration, Dolores repeated the truth, but no one believed her.

    Instead, they admired Dolores'' noble self-sacrifice in covering up for Vikir.

    ''Aah! That''s crazy!''

    Dolores decided to give up trying to exin.

    Instead, she sprang into action to correct the misunderstanding.

    Even if she was caught, she would go outside, meet Vikir, apologize formally, and clear up any misunderstandings.

    It waste at night, but she could probably get an emergency meeting request from the supervisor and have Vikir summoned from the boys'' dormitory.

    ''The sooner the better for an exnation.''

    Dolores left the girls'' floor and headed straight for the boys.

    She thought about thanking him for carrying her burden and apologizing for not being able to exin immediately.

    And just then.

    Dolores saw a strange shadow zing across the outer wall of the dorm.

    "...!"

    Dolores stopped dead in her tracks as she turned to go to her tutor.

    What she had just seen was surely a stork''s beak mask under the hem of a ck cloak.

    The mysterious creature she had been searching for, the one that had appeared so many times in her dreams.

    An enigmatic creature that is both endlessly mysterious and endlessly fascinating.

    The Night Hound, as he glided beneath a moon shrouded in clouds.

    Dolores forgot everything she had been thinking about in a blur.

    She turned on her heel and began to move in the direction of the Night Hound.

    There was no thought of catching him or stopping him. Just, just....

    * * *

    " ...I just wanted to talk to you."

    At Dolores'' words, Vikir smiled bitterly behind his mask.

    He knew what she was wondering.

    Why he stole a saint''s tears, and why he''s been wiping out the branches of the Quovadis.

    Ko-ok.

    Dolores'' hand tightened on Vikir''s cor.

    Her eyes were twitching like ripples on ake.

    "Why... did you do that to me, that day, too, disappearing without a word."

    "...."

    "Tell me, you didn''t do it, the branches of our family, you didn''t do it, did you? There was some misunderstanding, wasn''t there?"

    "...."

    "Say something, anything. Please...."

    Dolores clenched her small fists around Vikir''s cor.

    Then, leaning down, she pressed her forehead against Vikir''s chest and spoke in a hushed voice.

    "You''re not that kind of person, the viin everyone says you are...."

    Vikir didn''t know how to respond to that.

    Dolores''s bite in her voice was more than trust, it was some kind ofradeship.

    ''...Is it because of the ''Red Death'' incident back in the day?''

    It''s understandable that feelings of camaraderie andradeship might have developed in the course of treating so many gue victims.

    But Dolores''s feelings were much broader and deeper than Vikir had expected.

    Vikir had just opened his mouth to say something.

    "...!"

    Vikir sensed a strange sound in his ears.

    Whoosh... hook... grunt...

    It sounded like the ragged breathing of a beast, mingled with the boiling of blood.

    Dolores heard this ominous breath as well.

    Dolores tugged at Vikir''s cor, her fingers trembling with fear.

    "Did you... see the notice?"

    "I saw ...."

    Vikir nodded.

    They were now standing on the emergency exit stairs, the location of options #4 and #14.

    And this ufortable breathing in their ears was spontaneously reminding them of item 6 on the notice.

    (6). If you''re patrolling a hallway and there''s nothing around you, and you hear something like strange breathing in your ear, immediately get low and get down on the floor.

    Then crouch down and make yourself as small as possible and likewise make no sound.

    If the sounds subsequently stop, call another employee to locate and clean the stain on the ceiling.

    ''Ephebo''

    ''Ephebo'', the first high-ranking undead guarding Guilty appeared.

 Chapter 157: Familiar Faces (1)

    <h4>Chapter 157: Familiar Faces (1)</h4>

    [Whoosh-grrrr-]

    Suspended from the ceiling with an unpleasant breath, this must be Ephebo.

    He is one of the four hounds who, along with Geronto, Pedo, and Hebe, serve as Guilty''s minions.

    Vikir quickly scanned Ephebo''s entire body.

    ''He''s fully recovered, a demon indeed.''

    No broken bones, no torn flesh, no exploded organs, all seemingly intact.

    But Vikir was a veteran hound, used to fighting demons, so he wasn''t too fazed.

    Vikir prepared himself for battle and calmly began to calcte his next move.

    ... But Dolores was not among them.

    "Huh, Lord Ephebo, why are you here...?"

    She looked dazed, her thinking paralyzed for a moment.

    Why is the guardian knight of House Endulgentia in this ce, at this time of night, looking like this?

    And.

    "You''ll get yourself killed if you keep bruising like that."

    Vikir advised mildly.

    Quack!

    With that, Ephebo, who had fallen from the ceiling, raised therge hammer he was carrying and smashed it into Vikir.

    "You''ve got some serious muscle."

    Vikir stumbled backward with Dolores around his waist.

    The magic sword Beelzebub was trembling.

    The Quovadis''s blunt technique would be too much of a drain on his strength in a head-to-head encounter.

    Vikir leaped to his feet and retreated across the hall.

    There was no need for concern for terrain in this demonicbyrinth, a corridor that went on forever anyway.

    Vikir set Dolores down on the floor.

    "So much for wrapping. I can''t take any more."

    Dolores tried to say something, but Vikir really didn''t have time.

    ...Thud!

    Ephebo crawled down to the ground.

    [Crunch! Crunch!]

    Every joint in his body was grotesquely twisted, and he had an even more grotesque appearance than when they had met before.

    His arms, thick as logs, were longer than his legs, dragging on the ground, and his legs, with two or three more joints than a normal human leg, were bent in grotesque ways.

    It looked like a demon.

    Dolores''s eyes grew cold at the sight of him.

    Although he was an Old Order figure, he had once been an ally, a member of the same Quovadis.

    But the figure in front of her now was unmistakably a demon.

    "...Why is a demon here?"

    "It''s not a demon, it''s Lord Ephebo."

    "I mean, why would Lord Ephebo be demonized...? Are you saying he was a demon in the first ce?"

    Dolores stared at the figure before her in bewilderment and disbelief.

    A man who had been knighted in the Quovadis Family and appointed as the guardian knight of House Indulgentia.

    She had never seen his bare face, as he always wore a mask, but she had a not-so-bad image of a man who could take on any task, no matter how arduous, with grace.

    ''What the hell is going on within the family?''

    Dolores felt confused, but now was not the time to pry into it.

    ...Boom!

    The Night Hound''s sword and Ephebo''s hammer shed again.

    Pfft!

    Shockwaves ripped through the ceiling, walls, and floor.

    Steel frames buried in the walls were bent like taffy sticks, and water was gushing out from burst water pipes.

    Dolores gasped at the powerful aura Ephebo emitted.

    Graduators. That''s the highest level of the Graduators.

    Was Lord Ephebo that powerful?

    ... But there was something even more astonishing than that.

    It was the blood-colored aura of the Night Hound.

    ...Kurrrrr!

    Vikir emitted a thick, liquid, almost solid aura from the tip of his magic sword Beelzebub.

    Handling it was like wielding a giant greatsword.

    Crackle! Crackle! ng!

    The ck aura that Ephebo emitted was torn apart by Vikir''s red aura.

    It was like iron and lime colliding.

    Baskerville''s seventh form.

    The upper incisors, central incisors,teral incisors, and mrs.

    And the wisdom teeth, premrs, and mrs of the lower jaw.

    A total of seven teeth fell toward Efebo, the ck sack monster.

    ...Thud, thud, thud, thud!

    The hound''s teeth punctured flesh, slicing, tearing, ripping, and crushing even the bones within.

    This murderous sword technique is optimized for killing, and its sole purpose is to make the enemy suffer.

    It is a legendary sword technique that only exists in the Baskerville 10th Form, and has not been reported in the literature.

    Even a high-ranking member of the Baskervilles would not recognize Vikir''s current swordy as Baskervillian.

    Is that why? Dolores looked at Vikir, growing increasingly confused.

    "You... have grown stronger since Ist saw you, haven''t you?"

    "I''ve been steadily raiding the branches of the Quovadis family."

    "What, what! How can you say that so nonchntly... No, more than that, why?"

    "Why, do you even have that question after seeing that?"

    Vikir jerked at the Ephebo in front of him.

    [grunt... shrug...]

    Ephebo''s entire body was covered in teeth and he was staggering around, but he was still standing without falling.

    For a normal person, or even a normal Graduator, a wound of this severity would have been fatal.

    ...Push! ...Push!

    Ephebo''s tattered flesh spurted out blood as ck as asphalt.

    Dolores asked, not quite understanding.

    "Why the hell is there a thing like that in our family?"

    "What if you ask me to do your household chores."

    "You knew about it! Isn''t that why you''ve been raiding the branches all this time...!?"

    But Dolores'' questions were not answered. There was a more pressing matter at hand.

    Shhhh.

    Ephebo began to do something unpleasant.

    The ck energy that emanated from his entire body turned into a chain and wrapped around Vikir.

    "What a bother..."

    Vikir realized that Ephebo''s purpose was to stall.

    Pot!

    Kicking the watery floor, Vikir stretched out the aura of Beelzebub as long as he could.

    This would be the final blow.

    But.

    Boom.

    Ephebo swung the huge hammer a few times, then picked it up and threw it.

    The hammer bent like a thumb and flew toward Vikir.

    With the ck chains wrapped around his body, Vikir was forced to take the blow with his body.

    But.

    "Light of my life, me of my life, my sin, my soul. I will break your filthy bonds!"

    The holy incantation from Dolores'' mouth shattered the chains around Vikir''s entire body.

    Pa''aat-.

    Buff. And heal.

    When the demonic debuff weighing down Vikir''s body disappeared, Vikir regained the agile movements characteristic of a night hound.

    Jaw! Pow!

    Vikir stepped on the flying hammer and leaped once more.

    Using his momentum as a springboard, he swung Beelzebub horizontally.

    A red crescent moon floated sideways.

    ... Pow!

    Ephebo lost his head by just a fraction of a second.

    Bikir sunk his seventh tooth into the top of Ephebo''s head, then used the remaining six teeth to tear off the flesh, tendons, and bones of Ephebo''s neck.

    Kung!

    Ephebo''s body crashed into the watery floor. The hammer also stopped, embedded in the wall.

    Even if water wasn''t gushing out of the water pipe, it would have seemed like time had stopped.

    Thud.

    Vikir dropped Ephebo''s head to the floor, which was still stuck on the tip of Beelzebub.

    "I''ve severed his neckpletely, so I suppose not even a demon can do much about it."

    Just in case it could regenerate in some bizarre way, Vikir pulled the head away from his body and stomped on it firmly with his foot.

    This is because there was a case in the past where Set escaped with only its head remaining.

    Then Dolores spoke, her voice trembling.

    "I don''t know, what the hell is going on. I thought the only trouble in the family was the conflict between the Old and New Order factions, but... what the hell was lurking behind that, do you know?"

    At this, Vikir shook his head.

    "I don''t know. All I know is that the head of the Indulgentia family is actually a demon. That''s also at the level of a demon king."

    Dolores''s eyes widened to tears at that.

    She stammered out a question.

    "Ar, are you sure about that, can you say for sure?"

    "Can''t you tell by looking at that?"

    Vikir pointed at Ephebo''s body and then at his head.

    Even at this moment, Ephebo''s body, pulsing with ck blood, was still struggling to regenerate.

    Dolores finally recognized the words of the Night Hound.

    Paat-.

    The divine white light that emanated from her body hadpletely destroyed Ephebo''s immune system.

    In the end, Ephebo sankpletely, missing even thest opportunity to regenerate.

    Vikir looked at it and thought.

    "... is more useful than I thought?

    Demons'' umon ability to regenerate had always been a problem for Vikir.

    But with Dolores by his side, it might be a different story.

    Dolores, meanwhile, looked uneasy and asked Vikir again.

    "If, if there were demons lurking in the back of the Old Order... then shouldn''t there be a problem with the New Order?"

    "Did any of the branches I''ve raided so far belong to the New Order?"

    "... Not one, that I know of."

    "Then we have our answer."

    Vikir neatly organized Dolores''s confusion.

    Dolores could only stare at Vikir''s back as he walked ahead.

    Then Vikir looked down at Ephebo''s head rolling on the floor.

    A ck leather sack, which, upon closer inspection, looked like a hood attached to the inside of a gas mask.

    It, too, seemed to be an artifact of some sort, as it emitted a faint aura of magic.

    I''ve thought about it before, but I had a feeling that it might be an artifact, an "OOPArt" of sorts, like Beelzebub.

    I was also quite curious about the face behind the ck sack mask.

    Dolores was also very curious, as she had seen with her own eyes that Ephebo had used the blunt techniques of the Quovadis.

    "Who the hell is... really a Quovadis?"

    "You''ll know when you see his face."

    Vikir extended his hand.

    With a snap, the ck sack that had been wrapped around Ephebo''s face was pulled away.

    Both Vikir and Dolores stared in horror.

    "...!?"

    Ephebo''s bare face was clearly that of someone they both knew.

 Chapter 158: Familiar Faces (2)

    <h4>Chapter 158: Familiar Faces (2)</h4>

    Tsutsutsutsutsuts...

    Efebo''s face melted away at a tremendous rate, and he dissolved into the water.

    Sticky oil floats on top of the murky water, and the smell of rotting meat fills the air.

    Meanwhile, Vikir and Dolores had already seen Ephebo''s face before it melted.

    It was a face that looked familiar to both of them.

    "...Mozgus?"

    Vikir muttered as he picked up a ck sack floating in the water.

    A bald head without eyebrows, bulging eyes, a bulbous nose, and tightly clenched lips.

    The face I had seen a moment ago was unmistakably Mozgus''s.

    A pdin of the Quovadis, a pious priest who carried a thick Bible and led the charge against heresy.

    If fate holds true, when the era of destruction arrives, the person who will have to go to the front lines and fight against demons, why are there corpses lying around here?

    Vikir''s brow furrowed in unresolved mystery.

    ''Mozgus was a human before he was turned, surely, and he was a hero who was cohabited with a thousand demons during the Age of Destruction, so how can...''

    Vikir''s question was answered by Dolores.

    "This is not Mr. Mozgus."

    Dolores looked at what was left of Ephebo''s body and shook her head.

    "Mr. Mozgus had a twin brother, who, unlike us, belonged to the Old Order."

    Mozgus''s older brother.

    He, too, was a pdin, with a body like an iron wall and powerful divine powers.

    However, he had long ago retreated to the depths of an Old Order monastery for retirement training and has not been seen by anyone since.

    ...As far as the world is concerned, the story goes.

    "So you didn''t disappear because of your hermit training, but because your body was taken over by a demon."

    Vikir swallowed hard, and Dolores furrowed her brow in concern.

    "There are quite a few people in the Quovadis who are currently in the Closed Training, but... it can''t be true, can it?"

    "I can''t guarantee anything."

    That wasn''t the only problem now.

    Vikir remembered that the Baskervilles'' second son, Set, was also in the closed training.

    If the Baskervilles and the Quovadis were already in such a state, then any of the world''s most recognizable powerhouses who were in closed training, or who had been missing for long periods of time, were also in danger.

    Vikir turned and looked down at the headless body of Ephebo.

    My ninth of ten.

    He must have the power to turn others into demons and control them, while at the same time stealing their faces.

    Most likely, Guilty''s face had been stolen from someone else, too.

    ''By the way, howe Guilty''s face resembles an actor who retired a long time ago?''

    It''s not hard to see why the actor retired and why we haven''t heard much about him.

    Vikir also knew of a powerful man who had recently disappeared from the scene, iming to be retiring.

    ''When will you enter the academy? Let''s match it with me. I think I''ll probably enroll 1-2 years early. It would be so fun if we went to first grade together... ... .''

    It''s a tough rtionship that started when they were 8 years old. If it were up to me, we would have entered the academy together.

    Morg Camus.

    Seeing that face in her mind made Vikir feel ufortable for some reason.

    She had been searching for Vikir ever since he disappeared in the depths of the ck Mountains with the Enemy.

    All the while Vikir had been training in Bk''s vige for the past two years.

    But one day, Camus suddenly left the academy and transferred to a dark hall, and since then, she has disappeared from the world, iming to be practicing in the closet.

    Even Vikir was not entirely sure why.

    " ...We''ll worry about thatter. For now, it''s time to stick to the hunt.''

    Vikir clicked his tongue behind his mask.

    Most of his troubles and worries would be solved once he seeded in killing the demon.

    Yuck.

    Vikir took the ck leather sack that Ephebo was wearing over his face and stuffed it into his pocket.

    It was an artifact that emitted a simr kind of magic to Beelzebub''s, but its concentration was rtively weakpared to Beelzebub''s, about 25%.

    ''But if we can get the skins of Hebe, Pedo, and Geronto, that''s a different story.''

    Vikir was thinking to himself.

    "Uh, excuse me, Night Hound."

    Dolores hesitantly called out to Vikir.

    When Vikir turned her head, she opened her mouth with a look of sadness, confusion, doubt, and trust.

    "If this is what''s going on inside the Faithful Quovadis,... what am I supposed to believe from now on?"

    Quovadis had always believed in absolute goodness.

    Even though the Old and New Orders were at odds, it was believed that it was only a temporary quarrel over the sale of indulgences, and that they would eventually be united under the Rune religion.

    But the destruction within the family now leads me to believe that is not the fundamental problem.

    The demons are behind the Old Order.

    Having seen and heard this with her own eyes and ears, Dolores felt that everything she had ever believed in was being denied.

    The Quovadis is no longer an absolute.

    They are easily corrupted and easily manipted, no different from any other household.

    What does it mean, moreover, for a demon to appear so directly among humans?

    "...War! Demon War!

    The intelligent Dolores could sense just how much of a storm she was in the middle of.

    And how long and hard a battle this mysterious creature, the Night Hound, was fighting.

    "I don''t know, I don''t know what to believe anymore. Maybe there''s more than what the eye can see..."

    Dolores bowed her head, her voicecking confidence.

    She was beautiful and vulnerable in a way that would have made any man''s heart flutter.

    But Vikir offered no words offort.

    "You decide what you believe."

    He just walked on, bluntly, straight ahead, as he had always done.

    Just as he had always done.

    * * *

    Vikir left the fourth building and entered the third.

    Dolores was following closely behind him, though she didn''t seem to notice.

    The third building, which housed children aged 13 to 16, and the second building, which housed children aged 8 to 12, were connected in an H-shape like twins.

    -The orphanage provides the following rules of conduct for the safety of staff working at night.

    The following must never be disclosed to the outside world, and the orphanage will not provide anypensation for idents caused by viting these items.

    The same sign was posted here. The only difference is that the letters are slightly more faded.

    And the deeper we went into the building, the thicker the demonic aura became.

    A damp, foul odor indicated that something meaty was rotting inrge quantities deep within the corridors.

    A ustrophobic feeling, like digging down into a narrow, deep hole, a damp, earthen grave, weighed on my lungs along with the stench.

    ''There''s something else in ....''

    The Night Hound pushed forward with his keen sense of smell.

    Dolores, meanwhile, seemed to have fully understood that the Night Hound hadn''t blindly attacked the branches of the Quovadis, but had been acting with reason and principle.

    And she had been actively trying to help him ever since.

    "First of all, I''ll let the higher-ups in the family know about this. I''m sure they''ll believe me if they''re New Order, not Old Order, especially some of the groups I''m involved with."

    "...Do as you please."

    With Vikir''s permission, Dolores diligentlyposed the letter.

    It was mostly about the existence of Ephebo, the fall of Mozgus, and a request for gratitude to House Indulgentia.

    Dolores took a small pigeon from her bosom and tied the letter to her leg.

    The addressee was Cardinal Martin Luther, head of the New Order.

    If it was an Old Order figure, even his father, Cardinal Humbert, could not be trusted.

    "Please hurry up, little one. I apologize for making you work at night."

    Hearing the saint''s plea, the white pigeon pped its wings and soared into the sky.

    Pow!

    A few white feathers fluttered in the darkness.

    The pigeon, carrying Dolores'' letter, soared into the sky with great speed.

    ... but.

    Puff!

    A piercing jab swooped down and split the pigeon''s body in two.

    Dolores'' letter, too, was caught in the aura and crumbled to ash.

    "...."

    Vikir narrowed his eyes behind his mask. This is because the speed at which the sh flew was unusual.

    Sssssss...

    The smell of rotting meat mingled with the odor of moss.

    Soon, two dark shadows appear in the center of the hallway connecting Buildings 2 and 3.

    "Who are you!"

    Dolores''s expression was alert.

    Suddenly, two men appeared in front of Vikir and Dolores.

    Tall,nky men, dressed in sharp suits, with ck sacks over their faces.

    ''Pedo & Hebe''

    Pedo & Hebe.

    Like Ephebo, these two are Guilty''s hounds.

    At first nce, they appear to be high-level undead, as they both exude an unusual amount of energy.

    ... But there was something even more worrying than the powerful auras and odors they were emitting.

    "Could those undead be people we knew in life?"

    Dolores asked with concern in her voice.

    Humans corrupted by the demon himself could not possibly have been ordinary beings in life.

    They must have been known to the world in some way.

    Vikir replied in a nonchnt tone, his eyes fixed on Pedo, Hebe, and beyond.

    "Let''s hope it''s not ...."

 Chapter 159: Familiar Faces (3)

    <h4>Chapter 159: Familiar Faces (3)</h4>

    Pedo and Hebe make their appearance.

    Pedo with his two heavy Jamadhars, and Hebe with a pair of huge garden scissors.

    Both were wielding weapons that were not only unique, but deformed.

    Bubbling, bubbling, bubbling...

    A sticky liquid aura bubbled with mana and began to boil.

    The two of them, shrouded in a thick vapor, looked like two Advanced Graduators.

    Since there are two higher ranks, even the highest rank Vikir cannot let down his guard.

    ... Pow!

    Vikir shot forward.

    A red sh streaked horizontally from Beelzebub.

    Boom!

    The hallway wall broke and a loud noise erupted, but even that sound was trapped in the hallway''sbyrinth.

    Pedo leaped upward and Hebe ducked downward to avoid Vikir''s blow.

    At the same time.

    ...Boom!

    Two Jamadhars and a pair of giant scissors flew toward Vikir.

    The stone pirs crumbled like zhini slices.

    Puff-puff-puff-puff!

    Vikir summoned his numerous teeth and tore through the rubble of the crumbling stone pir, leaving the bodies of Hebe and Pedo beyond.

    At the same time.

    "Teh!"

    Vikir lifted his mask slightly and spat.

    The spit mixed with blood flew out andnded on the back of Pedo''s hand.

    Cheeeeeesss...

    The sound of flesh burning and tendons melting inside.

    But Pedo doesn''t feel the pain, and he pushes in and swings his sword.

    Vikir stepped back, feeling a piece of his cloak being cut away.

    "Poison doesn''t work on ...."

    He mixed Madame Eight-Legged''s venom into his saliva and spat it out, but the effect was minimal.

    Hahaha, the undead are already moving in dead bodies, so it''s no wonder they''re less vulnerable to poison.

    "Then how about this?"

    Vikir stepped back, dissolving into a puff of stony smoke.

    "?"

    "?"

    Pedo and Hebe look around for Vikir, who has vanished in an instant.

    Thud.

    Vikir, who had disappeared like a ghost, reappeared near the ceiling, above Pedo and Hebe''s heads.

    Puff! Puff-puff-puff!

    The gnashing teeth sliced into Pedo and Hebe''s bodies once more.

    Having absorbed the traits of Mushuhushu''s biology, Vikir can make no sound when they move.

    ''Silent heels''.

    It was definitely a useful skill in this dirt.

    Puck! Plop! Plop-plop!

    The magic sword wielded by Vikir began to nibble away at the bodies of Pedo and Hebe little by little.

    ''If it was a living opponent, I would have quickly punctured their throats or hearts, rendering them incapacitated...''

    Vikir felt a little frustrated: as undead, their stabbing attacks were ineffective.

    To make them incapacitated, he would have to use a wide shing attack, which requires a lot of preparation and drains his stamina, making it difficult to deal with two of them at the same time.

    Boom.

    Vikir stretches out his aura.

    [Grrrr!]

    Suddenly, Pedo leaped forward.

    Poof!

    He ignored Vikir''s sword that pierced his stomach and continued to advance.

    ''Oops!''

    Vikir tried to retrieve his sword, but the sword was already firmly wedged between the joints of Pedo''s vertebral column (��͹) and he was slow to pull it out.

    Using his vertebrae, Pedo began to mp down on Vikir''s sword with a firm grip.

    "...?"

    Vikir had no idea what Pedo wanted to achieve even by destroying most of his body.

    And then.

    "...!"

    It wasn''t until Hebe mmed a giant pair of scissors into Pedo''s back that Vikir realized their n.

    Pfft-eog!

    Hebe raised the giant scissors and sliced through Pedo''s body.

    At the same time, he cut off Vikir''s body in front of him!

    Uh-oh!

    Vikir gritted his teeth against the two scissor des pressing against his body.

    Pedo''s body in front of him was almost cut in half.

    It hadn''t split in two because of his strong spine, but the scissors had cut through all the flesh on his sides and mped down on the bones inside.

    Thanks to this, Vikir had barely escaped being sliced in two as well.

    Kugugukuk...

    Both of Vikir''s shoulders and forearms are tattered.

    The flesh was torn, the bones were popping, and blood was flowing.

    In that state.

    ...Puck!

    Vikir raised his leg and kicked Pedo in the stomach.

    Crunch! Crunch!

    The sound of friction between the spine and scissor de was heard, and Fedor''s body was pushed back a bit.

    At the same time, the pressure of the scissors digging into Vikir''s arms loosened slightly.

    ...Puck!

    Vikir kicked Pedo''s body with his foot again.

    As Pedo''s body is pushed a little further into the space between the scissor des, the scissor des spread further apart and the force that restrains Vikir also bes looser.

    ...puck! ...puck! ...puck! ...puck! ...puck! ...puck! ...puck! ...puck! ...puck!

    Vikir continued to pound the puck into Pedo''s torso.

    Pedo struggled, but he couldn''t help but be pushed further and further back.

    Finally.

    Poof!

    The scissor des snapped the worn spine, cutting Pedo''s torso in two.

    At the same time, the scissors crossed at a terrifying speed.

    ...Pow!

    They shed together in one ce.

    Of course, Vikir had leaped upward and dodged the des just before Pedo''s vertebrae were severed.

    "Fuck you."

    Vikir swung his hand, sending out a sharp, skewered blow.

    ...Poof!

    It tore a gaping hole in Hebe''s neck in the blink of an eye, sending him flying several meters backwards.

    Thud!

    Vikir and Hebe fell out at the same time, both of their bodies covered in blood and tattered.

    ...at that very moment.

    "That''s it, Night Hound!"

    Saint Dolores shouted.

    It takes a long time, but the effect is certain. The holy words of the Demon Sealing spell have been manifested in the flesh after a long prayer.

    "Light of my life, me of my life, my sins, my soul. Let the little things make me feel the weight of their karma suddenly...!"

    The prayer that Dolores has been reciting over a long period of time gains power in itself and exerts coercive physical force on beings such as the undead at the border between matter and antimatter.

    Boom!

    The divine light of the runes burst forth and crushed Pedo and Hebe.

    Pedo, who was still trying to reattach his torn body, and Hebe, who was still clutching at the gaping hole in his neck with his hands, were instantly crushed to the ground.

    They could only wriggle slightly in the face of Dolores''s immense divine power.

    Only then did Vikir rise from the floor.

    White flesh and red wounds peeked through the torn cloak.

    Dolores saw it and ran to him in horror.

    "Nigh, Night Hound! Are you okay!"

    it was a serious injury, a fatal injury that would be difficult to survive for more than a few minutes.

    Dolores knelt down beside Vikir, her face covered in tears and snot.

    "I''m sorry, I''m sorry! I took too long to cast the spell...."

    But it was toote. All the skin and flesh had been torn away, and you could see bone and guts inside, and now he was about to....

    "Quick, quick Heal, let''s get him out of here and get him to a medical center... huh?"

    Dolores, who had been iling about with tears in her eyes, was soon forced to open them wide.

    Tsutsutsutsuts...

    Vikir''s wounds were healing rapidly.

    ''It''s a good thing I have the skill of the Bog Smander.''

    It didn''t take long for Vikir''s wounds to heal.

    Only his torn cloak revealed his white skin and toned muscles.

    As Vikir mended his clothes, he gave a brief word of advice to Dolores, who stood beside him with a nk expression on her face.

    "Save your holy power. You haven''t even met a real demon yet."

    "Yeah, yeah, yeah...."

    Dolores stared at Vikir''s body in awe.

    He had never seen anyone heal so quickly from a wound.

    ''Is it because he has divine power?''

    Dolores, who had seen Vikir use some sort of divine power before, couldn''t help but think so.

    And then.

    ''The Night Hound was a man.''

    Dolores had a sudden thought.

    He had assumed it was a man, based on his build and voice.

    However, he had been wrapped up in a mask or cloak, so she hadn''t really thought of him as a man until now.

    But this time, when she saw his white, toned body peeking through the torn hem of his clothes, she knew for sure.

    His gender was male and his age was considerably younger.

    Suddenly, Dolores''s face flushed, even if only slightly.

    It was the first time she''d ever seen a man''s naked body at such close range.

    ''Oh, don''t be fooled.''

    She''d seen it countless times with her patients, but she''d never considered their gender in the first ce, so it shouldn''t count.

    Dolores turned her head slightly again.

    The Night Hound was adjusting his mask and cloak.

    After seeing the body under the cloak, Dolores was naturally curious about the face under the mask.

    ''...I wonder what the face is like under that mask?''

    Would it be a terrifying face? Or a surprisingly normal face? What does he look like?

    While Dolores was wondering all these things.

    "Are you curious?"

    Vikir asked.

    Dolores turned her head in surprise.

    "Yes, yes!?"

    "I asked if you were curious."

    "What, about what?"

    Vikir replied, as if asking the obvious.

    "The face behind the mask."

    "...!"

    Dolores''s body stiffened.

    "What am I supposed to say? How am I supposed to answer....?

    After a long pause, Dolores closes her eyes tightly and nods.

    "Yes, I want to know!"

    Vikir nodded in agreement.

    "Yeah. I was curious too."

    "...?"

    Dolores opened her mouth in confusion.

    Vikir turned and walked a few steps away,pletely ignoring Dolores'' attitude.

    He walked right up to where Pedo and Hebe were struggling.

    Boom!

    Vikir slit the two undead''s throats in an instant, ripping off the ck leather sacks they were wearing.

    ''...Ah, I thought you were talking about your masks.''

    Dolores walked away, looking slightly disappointed.

    But only for a moment, as the revealed identities of Pedo and Hebe hardened her expression.

    "One of them is from Don Quixote."

    Hebe''s body was covered in tattoos symbolizing Don Quixote, the spearman.

    Vikir also recognized the tattoo because he had Tudor, from Don Quixote, as a friend.

    "I''ll have to see if there''s a young man from the Don Quixote family who''s gone missing recently. Hmm, I don''t know where the other one came from."

    Then. Vikir answered Dolores''s question.

    "...Baskerville."

    Dolores had to gasp when she heard that.

    "Iron Blood Swordsman Baskerville? How do you know that?"

    "...."

    Vikir didn''t answer.

    He simply looked at the face that was revealed when the ck sack was removed.

    It was a face that melted quickly upon exposure to air, but Vikir remembered it clearly.

    ''... Were you Staffordshire Baskerville of the Knights of Pitbull?''

    Unlike a member of the Baskerville family, he was quite sly and affable, and was a hound that served well as a guide dog for training young hound.

    When Set Baskerville''s purges had taken out so many people, Vikir had heard that he''d been dismissed and sent somewhere, but he hadn''t expected to find himself here as an undead.

    ''... I don''t have a good feeling about this.''

    It''s ominous to see so many familiar faces as undead.

    And then.

    There was a presence that amplified Vikir''s anxiety even further.

    Gooooooooooo...

    A pulsating wave of mana drew Vikir and Dolores'' attention.

    Up ahead, Building One.

    A woman stood at the front door of the main lobby, looking this way.

    A mage-type undead with a breathtaking disy of magic.

    Geronto.

    The most troublesome of Guilty''s four minions.

 Chapter 160: Familiar Face (4)

    <h4>Chapter 160: Familiar Face (4)</h4>

    Geronto.

    A thin female mage.

    Her long red hair tumbles out from under the ck sack she wears on her face.

    Dolores spoke with a stern expression.

    "She''s a rtively recent recruit to the Guilty, and judging by her body type, she looks quite young...."

    "...."

    Vikir swallowed hard instead of answering.

    Then, Geronto stepped forward.

    A storm of dark mana began to engulf her entire body.

    ... Hiss, hiss, hiss!

    Complex magic circles were drawn in the air, followed by crackling mes and tiny ck spikes.

    The spikes pierce the floor and shoot upward, red-hot from the mes.

    Anyone who touched them would be burned and cut at the same time.

    Dolores was stunned by the sheer amount of mana Geronto unleashed.

    "This, a magic of this ss should be at least 5th... or 6th ss, he must have been an incredibly talented mage in his lifetime!"

    ming iron spikes flew everywhere.

    Vikir drew his Baalzebub long enough to deflect the flying spikes.

    Crackle!

    The wall of fire swirled around, impeding Vikir''s movement.

    Every time Vikir hesitated, more spikes shot out from the floor, walls, and ceiling.

    Red and ck. It was a familiar sight.

    Sizzle, sizzle, sizzle...

    Vikir backed away from the mes that clung to his shoulders, across his back, down his sides, and to his toes.

    In the meantime, the central lobby of Building 1 had been turned into a furnace.

    A cauldron of melting molten iron, red-hot spikes of me like teeth.

    Crackle, crackle, crackle, crackle... Boom!

    Geronto continued to summon fire and spikes from the other side of the furnace.

    The mes continued to engulf the mass.

    Each of the sharp iron spikes flying out of it was extremely threatening.

    The air is so hot it burns your lungs if you breathe it in, and your vision is limited by the thick smoke and overly bright mes.

    Pushed to the edge of the gate, Dolores called out to Vikir, who was directly in front of her.

    "Night Hound, we can''t even approach it at this rate!"

    "...."

    But Vikir didn''t answer.

    Instead, he stared out through the goggles attached to his mask at his enemies, the ckndscape, and the red-haired mage standing beyond.

    Then, with the growl of a night hound, he said.

    " ...I need to see your face."

    "What?"

    "I need to see your face."

    Leaving Dolores with a questioning look, Vikir took a step forward.

    The floor had already been transformed into a furnace of sharp metal spikes and zing mes.

    Vikir sprinted toward it.

    Screech! Crunch!

    Every time Vikir stepped on the ground, a metal spike shot up.

    It pierced his instep or heel and came up to his knees.

    Those protruding from the walls and ceiling were scorched by the mes, and gradually melted away, turning to boilingva.

    ...POP! ...POP! ...POP! ...POP! POP!

    The metal spikes that had sprouted from the ceiling melted away, and drop after drop of molten metal began to drip down the hallway.

    Below, new spikes continue to sprout, and the mes grow stronger, raining fire and molten metal from the ceiling.

    "...."

    Vikir pushed forward on the thorny path, drenched in molten metal and spikes.

    Puff-puff-puck!

    Dozens of spikes flew at him, piercing every inch of his body, but Vikir was unfazed.

    "Face."

    Rage boiled up from the bottom of his throat, hotter than the bubbling mud.

    "Let me see your face."

    The smell of burning flesh, cooking blood.

    Dolores was horrified to see Vikir endure this torture alone.

    Why would he go to such lengths? Did he know the mage woman? And if so, what is their rtionship?

    The unanswered questions made her dry mouth and throat ache even more.

    "...Ugh!"

    Dolores squeezed her eyes shut and followed Vikir''s lead.

    Divine light is not very effective against elements other than darkness.

    But even so, Dolores followed the path the Night Hound had zed, plunging into a furnace of zing fire, molten metal, and spikes.

    Despite the stabbing, slicing, and burning pain in every part of her body, she pressed on, undeterred.

    ''Night Hound has a harder road ahead of him, and I can''t whine about merely following him!''

    Dolores gritted her teeth and followed Vikir, her body beginning to be covered in burns and cuts.

    By this time, Vikir had reached the end of the furnace.

    Meanwhile. Geronto had run out of mana, and was stumbling backwards, unable to produce any more fire and spikes.

    And in front of him stood Vikir, standing tall.

    Iron spikes piercing through his body, mes burning through his veins.

    But Vikir didn''t care about any of that, his hand reaching out.

    "Take off your mask."

    Geronto''s throat was mped shut, and Vikir used his other hand to remove the ck sack that covered her face.

    Boom.

    The very moment the ck sack was removed from Geronto''s head.

    [Gurgle!]

    Geronto spat out a bloodcurdling sound as he struggled.

    The mana in his body turbulent like crazy.

    Vikir realized what it was and quickly pulled his hand away and stepped back.

    "W-what!"

    Dolores eximed, barely able to hold her breath.

    Quack, quack, quack!

    The mana in Geronto''s body that had run amok instantly turned into a giant bomb, destroying everything in its path.

    ...Boom!

    Geronto''s body, burned from the neck up, fell backwards.

    Flutter.

    Only a single ck sack remained untorn and unburned by the explosion, lying on the ground.

    "...It looks like they nted a bomb in her head."

    Dolores said, frowning.

    Meanwhile.

    "...."

    Vikir stands, speechless.

    He was staring at Geronto''s body, now sprawled on the floor in front of him.

    A woman''s body, shrouded in ck robes.

    After a moment of silence, Vikir moved.

    Dolores''s eyes widened slightly.

    "Night Hound, what are you doing....?"

    She had every reason to panic.

    Vikir was now undressing Geronto.

    Thud, thud, thud!

    The tough robes were torn to shreds by the strong grip.

    The white-skinned woman was now naked.

    But there was nothing obscene about it. Her head had been ripped off, and she was a corpse.

    Her body was covered in patchwork marks of iron, leather, and other materials that had been pieced or sewn together.

    Theck of intact flesh and bones suggests that the pieces of her body were not fully assembled when she was resurrected as an undead.

    ...This means that before she became undead, she died without leaving her body intact at the time of her death.

    In other words, she died a very painful and gruesome death.

    "...."

    Vikir stared at Geronto''s corpse for a moment.

    Then.

    "No."

    He added briefly.

    Dolores asked, puzzled.

    "Did you know her?"

    "... I thought I did, but I guess not."

    Vikir thought of Morg Camus in his mind.

    In fact, Vikir was thinking that Geronto might be Camus.

    They were the same age, the same height and build, and even the magic they used was simr.

    Even the color and length of his hair was the same as thest time he had seen her.

    Furthermore, Camus had not only left the prestigious academy for no reason, but also joined a dark hall known for its ck magic, and had even recently entered the closed-door training.

    However, after checking it himself, Geronto was not Camus.

    Geronto was slightly shorter than thest Camus he saw.

    There was also a slight difference in secondary sexual characteristics, with Geronto being slightly less developed.

    This suggests a difference in age.

    Crucially, Vikir had seen Camus naked as a child. He was eight years old when Camus burned off her clothes during abined training exercise.

    ''She definitely had moles on his chest and under his corbone.''

    But there are no such marks on Geronto''s body.

    Her red hair, strong magic, and skill with iron and fire make her look like one of Morg''s women, but she''s very different from Camus in many ways.

    ''...The question is, why is she here, as an undead?''

    Morg is not alone. The Baskervilles, Don Quixote, and the young men of the Quovadis were also turned undead.

    How far do the roots of demons reach?

    Vikir realized he needed to step up his demon hunting.

    Then.

    "I''ve heard that the tombs of some of the great houses have been robbed a lottely."

    Dolores said with a hint of concern.

    At that, Vikir stroked his chin with his hand.

    "Grave robbing."

    Normally, grave robbers were after the gold and silver treasures buried with the bodies.

    But this case was different. The body itself was the object of the grave robbing.

    "...demonic bastards."

    Vikir picked up the fourth leather sack that had been covered over Geronto''s face.

    Once again, this ck sack held powerful magic.

    Together, the four were almost as powerful as the magic sword Beelzebub.

    ''What kind of artifacts are these, anyway? I''ll have to investigate themter.''

    Vikir clutched the four ck sacks in his arms.

    With that, the troublesome gateways were over.

    Ephebo, Hebe, Pedo, and Geronto.

    With all four hounds gone, there was truly only Guilty, the Lord of Indulgentia.

    Vikir thought back to the steps he had taken to get to this point.

    He''d earned his demerits within the Academy, spent the entirety of the Golden Holiday volunteering and serving as a scout.

    And now, all that remained was the final goal of this assassination.

    Vikirposed himself and was about to take the final step.

    p-p-p.

    From beyond the pitch darkness came the sound of apuse.

    "...!"

    Vikir and Dolores looked up to see a familiar face.

    Guilty L. Indulgentia.

    He was sitting on the railing and looking down with a smile on his face.

 Chapter 161: Sin and Punishment (1)

    <h4>Chapter 161: Sin and Punishment (1)</h4>

    And thus I clothe my naked viiny with old odd ends stolen forth from holy writ And seem a saint when most I y the devil.

    You cover your naked wickedness with a few worn-out words stolen from the Bible, so you look like a saint even when you''re doing devilish things.

    * * *

    Guilty.

    The patriarch of House Indulgentia, an affiliated family of the faithful Quovadis.

    A faithful follower of the Rune religion, an ardent preacher, an honorary mayor of the Imperial family, and a benevolent orphanage director who lovingly cares for children with nowhere else to go.

    But it was all just a mask, and behind it lurked an ugly demonic face.

    Guilty looked down at Geronto''s corpse with a friendly smile.

    "Ho-ho-ho-ho, that was a good harpoon."

    His gaze shifted to the four ck sacks poking out of Vikir''s cloak.

    They belonged to Ephebo, Hebe, Pedo, and Geronto, who wore them over their faces.

    Guilty grunted as if he was about to be troubled.

    "Are all four of them ruined? I borrowed them from ''that bitch,'' and I''ll have to give them back someday, but I''m in big trouble, and I wonder what kind of trouble that damned bitch will get into...."

    His gestures and tone were dramatic, as if he were a theater actor on stage alone, delivering a monologue.

    Meanwhile.

    Dolores, seeing Guilty''s easy-going smile, was enraged and stepped forward.

    "You! How dare you wear the mantle of a saint and do such an ugly thing, bringing the demon into the orphanage! What the hell are you thinking!"

    "''Ho, ho, ho! What are you doing? Haven''t you seen for yourself what has been found beneath the grounds of every orphanage, monastery, and hospital under the Quovadis name?"

    Dolores shook her head, not understanding Guilty''s words for a moment.

    Then she realized. She realized what Guilty was saying.

    "Bones! Human skeletons!

    That''s right.

    Demons do eat humans, but only the fluid ones, the very young ones.

    Guilty smirked, his mouth watering.

    "I guess humans are best when they''re young. They''re delicious."

    It was a clear provocation.

    Dolores stared at Guilty with a mixture of horror and anger.

    "Cannibal! Cannibal! Yes, you really are a demon...!"

    "I''ve done some cannibalism, so it''s a bit unfair tobel me a demon, but I''m not the only one who eats, you know, people in high ces."

    "What, what!"

    Dolores opens her mouth in disbelief.

    But Guilty remained impassive.

    "When you''ve been up high and seen all the delicacies, you''re naturally interested in things you''ve never eaten before, and once you introduce them to a few people, they catch on."

    "Bullshit! There''s no way anyone would do that!"

    "Ho, ho, ho. Why not, there are so many of you Quovadis alone."

    "...!"

    Dolores staggered once, as if genuinely shocked.

    Guilty chuckled and continued.

    "Well, I understand. I know it''s a shock to you, Saint. Humans often have many faces. A man may be a pious priest in front of you, but you never know what he''s like behind closed doors."

    "Bullshit!"

    "Ho-ho-ho-ho-ho. Bullshit. Can you say that you, too, live with one face all the time, that you have never worn a face of shame, that you have never made an ugly face behind the mask of hypocrisy?"

    Dolores''s pupils dte at those words.

    I have.

    He had done something shameful once recently.

    Vikir. A boy from the same academy, in the same club.

    He''s older than her, but two grades below her.

    Recently, Dolores drank too much while ying a board game and wet Vikir''s pants.

    To get out of the situation, shemitted the dishonorable act of framing Vikir (albeit unintentionally).

    Is that all?

    On the small scale, the peeing incident is one example; on therge scale, there are many.

    A saint who is supposed to love and embrace all people.

    A candidate for householder to live up to family expectations.

    A New Order leader who must stand up to the Old Order.

    A model student who must be the pride of the school.

    A student council president who should set an example for the younger students,

    A newspaper editor who should always be fair and just.

    .

    .

    After all, she, too, had many faces, and with them all sorts of anguish, burdens, inferiorityplexes, hatred,ziness, and other needs.

    So Dolores stood still for a moment, speechless.

    Then.

    ... a tug!

    There was a hand on her shoulder.

    Rough and crude, but warm.

    The Night Hound was standing right next to Dolores.

    His gravelly voice tickled her ear.

    "We can make mistakes. That''s what makes us human."

    A moment. Dolores felt the pressure that had been pressing down on her entire body release at once.

    It wasn''t just the pressure of facing the demon.

    It was as if all the pressures she had felt throughout her life as a saint, student council president, and other positions of great responsibility had somehow been lifted.

    It was like a small salvation. I felt like I was beingforted.

    "...Is that true?"

    Dolores asked with a lot of emotion.

    Vikir nodded silently.

    Of course, it was an act done without much intention.

    ''If a person is in a hurry, he might pee.''

    Vikir was only referring to drinking and peeing his pants.

    But Dolores seemedforted in more ways than one.

    The moment.

    "...oops! It can''t be released!

    Dolores reached out and cupped his cheek.

    I was somehow relieved to hear that the Night Hound was okay.

    Even surprised myself.

    Dolores realized how much she had been leaning on the Night Hound, and she braced herself.

    "I''m a saint, and a candidate for the head of the Quovadis family. I''m supposed to be someone''s shoulder to lean on, not the other way around!

    But even with these resolutions, she couldn''t help but stare at the broad back of the night hound.

    ... Meanwhile.

    Guilty narrowed his eyes and looked at Vikir.

    The Saint of the Quovadis was a woman of great potential and talent, but she was still so young and inexperienced that she could be roasted with just three tongues.

    However, the unexpected arrival of an unnned visitor interrupted the ns to shake the saint''s mentality.

    Guilty looked at Vikir with a smirk on his lips, but eyes that weren''t smiling.

    "Who the hell are you anyway, the one who''s been raiding the branches of my organizationtely? You must be the one Ephebo said he owed me the other day."

    "Why do you keep asking me questions when you know the answer?"

    Guilty smirked at Vikir''s growling reply.

    "Okay. I''m tired of this middle-aged actor''s face anyway. I wanted another young, pretty face. I have a hobby of collecting really pretty faces when I see them. Like yours."

    With his unique ability to rte to faces and masks, Guilty was able to see through the face of Vikir''s gue doctor mask.

    Hearing this, Dolores looked back at Vikir, her eyes slightly wide.

    ''...Mr. Night Hound is handsome, unexpectedly.''

    She can''t see Vikir''s face behind his mask, so she can only guess based on Guilty''s words.

    ''Is this the kind of beauty that even the demon covets?''

    Dolores knows that she shouldn''t be doing this, but she can''t help but be tempted by Guilty''s words.

    Meanwhile. Guilty continued to babble.

    "Ho-ho-ho-ho! I''ve always wanted the skin of your face, St. Dolores, and now I''ve got an even prettier face, so what the hell. Two new faces will be added to my collection today...!?"

    But he couldn''t get the line out.

    "Gap."

    Vikir''s voice cut short.

    Tsk-tsk.

    Guilty''s head snapped in two in a single blow.

    "... ...?"

    Guilty''s skull split in two on both the left and right sides.

    Vikirnded lightly on the back of Guilty, who was spewing ck blood.

    Brawl. A series of extremely honed footwork, sword strikes, and leading swords.

    As Vikir pushed himself up onto the steep railing.

    ...Thud!

    Guilty plummeted down the railing, falling to his death.

    Seeing this, Dolores wore a dazed expression.

    "?"

    This is how it ends?

    It was an incredibly futile end for a final boss.

    ...In fact, rather than Guilty dying in vain, it was more likely that Vikir hadn''t been able to fully reveal his true abilities until now, but Dolores wasn''t going to know that.

    And.

    "Of course this is not the end."

    Vikir warned Dolores.

    "Be prepared. The ''real'' stuff ising."

    And as if to prove Vikir''s point, Guilty picked himself up off the floor.

    His mouth split in two as he spoke.

    [What... ...is that?]

    Guilty''s eyes were red and bloodshot, as if they didn''t belong to a normal living being.

    He could smell Vikir now.

    The scent of a demon hunter, as only a demon could feel.

    It was a scent that had remained hidden beneath the mask and ck robes.

    Vikir was beginning to show his true colors.

    Tsutsutsutsutsuts...

    ck and red auras swirled ferociously around Vikir''s entire body.

    At the same time as the hidden power and aura exploded, the soul of the hound that had raced across countless battlefields bared its teeth.

    Naturally, the smell of the countless drops of blood on its teeth also began to emanate.

    Demon blood. And the most recent of them all.

    It belonged to Andromalius the 10th!

    The dying breath of a Demon of the highest order left a deep mark on Vikir''s soul, a mark that would be his karma for life, making his soul and body even more fierce and hardy.

    And there was no way Guilty could not smell it.

    Finally, the smilepletely disappeared from his lips.

    [Could it be that Andromalius has been... ...out of touchtely...?]

    Vikir didn''t answer.

    Instead, he exploded his hidden aura even more strongly, and as he did so, the scent of Andromalius'' blood grew stronger.

    Realizing that Andromalius had been killed by Vikir in front of him, Guilty let out a pitiful sigh.

    [Oooooh! It would take thebined power of ten Demon Kings to open the gate to the Demon Realm, and now that... ...one is gone, the burden on the remaining nine will only increase! Andromalius, you fool!]

    Guilty''s appearance began to change as his voice grew more and more distorted.

    [Unforgivable! The Great Work... ...has been put off for another decade!]

    Wailing, wailing, wailing.

    The voice was so terrible that it made one''s stomach churn and vomit just to hear it.

    Puddeudeudeuk!

    It was then that Guilty shed his human cloak and began to reveal the true nature of his existence in the Demon Realm.

    "Huh?"

    Dolores gulped and stepped back.

    But.

    "...."

    Vikir hadn''t taken a step back, watching it all with a nonchnt demeanor.

    ''Finally.''

    ''Dantalian'', the ninth of the ten corpses!

    This was the opponent Vikir had been searching for.

 Chapter 162: Sin and Punishment (2)

    <h4>Chapter 162: Sin and Punishment (2)</h4>

    <Dantalian of the ''Ninth Corpses''

    Danger Rating : S

    Size : ?

    Found in: ''Serpent''s Womb'', deep within the Doomed Gate

    -Known as the Ninth Corpse.

    One of the Ten Cmities, natural enemies of mankind, inscrutable and unkible.

    "Because of the disease, boils will be rampant."

    �C The Book of the Ten Commandments 10: 1.

    Puddeudeudeuk!

    The human''s mask shattered, and his demonic form burst forth from within.

    Vikir watched it all with a calm demeanor.

    ''...Atst.''

    Dantalian. The Nine corpse.

    Old, young, child, woman, man, handsome, beautiful, ugly, pretty, fat, thin, ck, white, yellow, noble, ve, rich, beggar, hero, viin...

    With 36 heads, faces, and identities, this demon has a humanoid body and a grim-looking suit.

    Each of its thirty-six faces had a purple tongue that could be extended to any length, and the tip was sharper than a de.

    Vikir was able to recall the past from the appearance of this demon, which was as grotesque as ever, with only the shape of the faces differing.

    ''Dantalian, the ''Thousand Faces''. The one who killed the most of mypanions.''

    Before his regression, Vikir had lost countless allies to the demon before him.

    Vikir had lost countlesspanions to this demon before his eyes, and so had he, for Dantalian has the ability to steal the faces of those he kills.

    Mother, father, older brother, younger brother, older sister, older sister, grandmother, grandfather, best friend, respected teacher, beloved student, childhood friend, fianc��, fiancee, first love, unrequited love, etc... ... In addition, anyrades who hesitated or hesitated even for a moment against Dantalian, who had all kinds of faces, would inevitably be pierced to death by his de-like tongue.

    And it was Dantalian who, with the face he had stolen, killed hisrades, his family, and his lovers, over and over again.

    Therefore, as Vikir, who had the experience of losing countlessrades to the bastard, he had no choice but to evaluate Dantalian this way.

    ''A demon that must be killed early on.''

    Regardless of his strength, he will cause the most damage to the Human Alliance in the future, so it would be beneficial to eliminate him early on.

    Right then.

    Tsutsutsutsutsuts...

    The smell of rotting flesh washed over them, along with a disgusting aura.

    Vikir quickly stepped back.

    Dantalian was a demon with countless faces, but he was also known as a gue-bringer.

    It was perfect for a fake cleric who could create gues and reap them, all the while putting on a gentle face.

    But in this case, it was a good thing.

    For now, Vikir had Dolores behind him.

    ...Pow!

    Dolores emitted a divine light that blocked the Dantalian gue fog.

    She opened her mouth with a stern expression.

    "...Why?"

    [Ho-ho-ho-ho- why? What reason?]

    Dolores'' throat tightened at Dantalian''s question.

    "Why would youe to the human realm and do this, why would you do this in the orphanage...!"

    Then the thirty-six faces staring down at Dolores smirked in unison.

    He doesn''t say anything about the ''gate'' that the ten demons are trying to open, other than his originalment, of course.

    He did, however, readily reveal the reason he was keeping another chick in the orphanage.

    [It''s a kind of "farm" operation].

    "What?"

    Dolores asked, and Dantalian replied, still with a frown.

    [See this?]

    He held up a golden ne in his hand.

    Dolores could only frown as she realized that it was something that some of the children in the orphanage wore around their necks.

    Then, Dantalian said.

    [This means ''meat for breeding''].

    "...!"

    Dantalian''s next words stiffened Dolores'' expression even more.

    [We demons live off of humans, just like you humans live off of beasts, so I''ve had a change of heart. Rather than hunt them down every time, I''d rather make them into farms and raise them like livestock, like dogs and pigs.]

    "What, what?"

    ["Let them breed in here, increase their poption, take care of their meat, and then eat them when they reach a certain age. How efficient is that? It''s a win-win situation.]

    "Crazy! How is that a win-win!"

    [It''s a win-win. The orphans in the orphanage here were destined to never be born, die at birth, or end up on the streets at a young age, but thanks to me, they''re here, and they''re safe and sound until they''re in theirte teens. Of course, after a certain age, their meat bes tough and tasteless, so we have to eat them before then. Ho-ho-ho-ho!"]

    "Ughhhh..., how dare you do this behind the name of a religious hymn! You will be punished, you demon!"

    Dolores shouted in fury.

    But when Dantalian heard the word ''punishment'', his seventy-two eyes widened in confusion.

    [Ho-ho-ho-ho-ho- Heavenly punishment? I''m not guilty of anything!]

    A passing dog wouldugh at the idea that a demon who lured and ate poor children was innocent.

    But Dantalian seemed to really think so.

    Because.

    [I have these things].

    Next, Dantalian pulled a bundle of scraps of paper from his arms.

    I recognized them as bills, but they were a bit smaller than that.

    Dantalian scattered them into the air.

    The red writing and seal on the white paper looked like a kind of pagan talisman.

    "This is ...."

    Dolores stared at the fluttering white bits of paper, dumbfounded.

    ''All sins of this faithful church member are forgiven.''

    �C This indulgence was issued and guaranteed by the Old Order and counterfeiting can result in punishment. �C

    ''All penalties of this faithful church member are forgiven.''

    �C This indulgence was issued and guaranteed by the Old Order and counterfeiting can result in punishment. �C

    ?

    This ''indulgence'', stamped with a cardinal''s seal, is a verified and guaranteed assurance by the Order of Runes that the penitent''s sins and punishments have been forgiven.

    Dantalian had many such indulgences and pardons in his possession.

    ["Ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho! I paid a hefty tribute and received these certificates, so I''m not guilty of anything, by your standards."]

    It is the way of the world that if youmit a sin, you must be punished.

    However, it is also possible to be exempt from punishment, or even to be pardoned for the sin in the first ce.

    It was aw that the Quovadis of the Faith recognized, creating an ironic situation in which the source of sin, the demon, was acquitted.

    Shocked and at a loss for words, Dolores turned to Dantalian.

    [Oh, by the way, the man who issued me these deeds is your father].

    "...!?"

    [Ho-ho-ho-ho-ho! As I piled up the gold chests like a mountain, they got so loud that they stamped them all over my head.]

    Dolores'' father is Cardinal Humbert, who is known as an iconic figure of the Old Order and a hard-nosed principalist... who unconditionally upholds ssicalw.

    However, he was an ambitious man who tried to take over the family by amassing a lot of wealth in return for selling indulgences behind the scenes.

    As a result, even the sins of the demon that could never be forgiven were forgiven.

    "...."

    Dolores staggered back in shock at the realization of her father''s identity.

    It could not be easily used of being a heresy or a cult.

    It was as if a sore within the family had festered and grown into a terrifying tumor.

    [Ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho! And I am innocent, for I have received a pardon for all my sins directly from your Rune Order... Huh!?]

    But Dantalian could no longer smirk at Dolores.

    For a single de tore open two of his pping mouths in quick session.

    " ...When dealing with demons."

    Night Hound. Vikir plucked a long tongue from the mouth of Dantalian''s third face and held it in his hand.

    "Don''t y with the tongue."

    At the same time, Vikir yanked the tongue out and shed it across the Third Face''s face with an awl.

    [Ouch!]

    Dantalian screamed again.

    It gaped at the remaining faces.

    The tongues, stained purple, were sharp as des.

    However, the speed at which Vikir wielded the magic sword Beelzebub was much faster.

    ...ng, ng, ng!

    The sword, quenched with malice and forged with hatred, spewed out a red-hot trail.

    Dantalian cried out in horror as faces exploded one after another.

    [You, you wretch, how dare you point your sword at me!]

    Then, the first face that Dantalian recognized turned to look at Vikir.

    It was an old woman with a gentle, warm smile.

    Who says you can''t spit on a face that smiles in its sleep?

    But.

    ...Boom!

    Vikir sliced the old woman''s face in two with a relentless blow.

    The grandfather''s face followed suit.

    [What a bastard!]

    Dantalian gritted his teeth and pulled out a new face.

    It was the face of a pretty woman, a young actress whose stock was rising these days.

    However.

    ...Boom!

    Vikir swung his sword relentlessly this time.

    No matter what face appeared behind him, the result was the same.

    ...ng! ...ng! ...ng! ...ng! ...ng! ...ng! ...ng! ...ng!

    A bright child, a sexy woman, an old, helpless man..., all of their faces had be a side dish for the sword.

    At this point, Dantalian is rather bewildered.

    His faces are skinned from the faces of real people, and he can recreate their expressions and voices.

    How is it that this creature in front of him can''t even be moved like a grain of rice?

    [You inhuman creature, I am more human than you!]

    "...."

    Vikir ignored Dantalian''s words and struck again.

    ...Pfft!

    Blood sshed in a sickening ck-green color, and Dantalian staggered backward.

    The spears of his tongue, his primary weapon, were much reduced in number.

    New faces were regenerating, but Vikir was much faster at destroying them.

    ''I had enough of them before the regression. I''m not going to get the same amount of them twice.''

    The Face of a Thousand Faces The faces and voices of Dantalian mimics are nothing but mimics.

    In his previous life, Vikir realized this only after losing many of hisrades.

    So there was no reason or room for guilt at this moment.

    "Keep your neck open."

    Vikir stepped forward, brushing the foul blood from his sword.

    Then a sickening grin crossed the rest of the Dantalian''s faces.

    [Ho ho ho! So this is a fellow who doesn''t care much for others, then how about this?]

    Suddenly, all of Dantalian''s faces began to change in unison.

    They belonged to boys and girls under the age of thirteen.

    They were the faces of the children of the orphanage.

    Vikir replied in a dry voice.

    "I''ve smashed the faces of many children before, do you think I''ll do it again now?"

    [Ho ho ho! Of course it won''t work on you].

    "...!"

    The words stopped Vikir in his tracks for a moment.

    That''s right.

    Dantalian wasn''t messing with Vikir''s mind right now, but with the mind of Dolores behind him.

    St. Dolores had been volunteering here for years now, caring for many children.

    Some of them she''d bonded with, others she''d adopted to good homes and never saw again.

    ... But it wasn''t.

    None of those kids went to a good ce.

    Because they were all ''here''.

    [A! Sis! I missed you!]

    [Sis! Help me! It hurts so much!]

    [Sis! Sis! Sis! Sis! Get me out of here!]

    [It hurts, sis! Hmph �C ugh �C I was wrong!]

    Countless faces bloomed over Dantalian''s body like a bouquet of flowers in a vase.

    The children from the orphanage that Dolores had met every weekend since she was a freshman in her first year at the academy until she became the student council president in her third year.

    As they groaned and cried out in unison, Vikir was silent for a moment.

    She was sure she wouldn''t fall for this kind of emotional maniption.

    But Dolores, saint of the Rune Order, paragon of all, lover of all the less fortunate?

    Vikir shifted, feeling a vague sense of unease.

    And jerked his head back.

    "...!"

    Behind the mask, Vikir''s eyes widened slightly.

    Then a dry voice scratched his throat.

    "...indeed. A hero is a hero."

    At the same time.

    ...Pow!

    An intense sh of white light pierced him in the eye.

    [kkeuheug!?]

    Dantalian stumbled backwards as the heat scorched his body.

    Cheeeeeeeek... ...

    Burning ck smoke rose from the body exposed to the bright light.

    Then, Dolores''s voice drifted out of the white haze of light.

    Extremely calm, yet bubbling with anger hotter thanva.

    "...You touched something you shouldn''t have."

    That was the voice.

    And the moment he heard her ''awakened'' voice.

    ...Creepy!

    Vikir felt a weak shudder.

    The battlefield before the regression, when all was lost.

    Thest spark of hope, the ray of light that always managed to pull off a miraculous reversal, even in the midst of despair when the odds seemed tilted against them.

    For a brief moment, I felt a nostalgic sense of the seconding of Dolores, the Saint of Steel, humanity''sst hero.

 Chapter 163: Sin and Punishment (3)

    <h4>Chapter 163: Sin and Punishment (3)</h4>

    [Aaah! Sis! I''m scared!]

    [Brother! Help me!]

    [Someone help me!]

    The crying faces of the children.

    Dantalian must have collected the faces of the children as they tried to escape the orphanage.

    Vikir remembered a strange code of conduct he''d seen a while back.

    It was probably meant to frighten the children to prevent them from running away, and to ensure that no one would reach out to the children who did.

    And knowing all of this, Dolores was able to summon up an intensity of holy fire that she had never been able to muster before.

    ...Grumble!

    A pure white me began to engulf Dantalian''s entire body.

    [Aaah!?]

    Dantalian writhed as his flesh burned.

    However, Dolores was unable to see the scene.

    "Bad... of all evil... you bastard!"

    There''s not much swearing she can do.

    Her vision is blurred by the tears streaming from her eyes.

    She lowered her head, unable to meet the eyes of the children suffering in the mes.

    Her innate divine power was immense, but she hadn''t yet acquired the practical experience to manifest it efficiently.

    ... But there was a veteran hand to make up for it.

    Bam!

    Vikir. The night hound bared its razor-sharp teeth again, slicing through a chunk of Dantalian flesh.

    ''This is an opportunity.''

    Dantalian is engulfed in Dolores'' mes, and the pain of the burning is terrible.

    At this moment, if he slowly sliced through Dantalian''s body, he had a chance.

    ...Whoosh!

    A fiery aura exploded from the tip of Vikir''s sword.

    The sticky liquid aura that symbolized the Gradient Supetive had now be almost solid.

    [Hmph!? How dare you on a mortal being!]

    Dantalian stood up, his body burning with white mes, and drew out his purple tongues.

    Boom! ng! ng!

    Vikir''s sword and Dantalian''s tongues shed fiercely.

    Dozens of blows were exchanged in the blink of an eye.

    But the skilled Vikir was no match for Dantalian''s demonic speed, and he continued to attack.

    Ta-ang!

    Vikir felt his knuckles crack as Dantalian''s tongue mmed down on his back.

    ''...Surely stronger than Andromalius.''

    Andromalius, who was in the body of Set Les Baskervilles, was also a very high level demon of the Demon King ss.

    The difference was that back then, the knights of the House Baskerville had fought together, and Hugo Les Baskervilles had been the one to finish him off.

    However, Vikir, who was now fighting Dantalian one-on-one, had a reliable ally.

    "Night Hound, please step aside!"

    Dolores formed a barrier of white mes in her hands.

    Vikir, who had swung his sword without blinking or taking a breath during the high-speed exchange of blows, was able to step back behind the barrier and recover.

    Sizzle, sizzle, sizzle...

    A white heat that consumed the darkness, sending Dantalian into the distance.

    But Dantalian was in no mood for impatience.

    [Ho, ho, ho! No human has ever pushed me like this before. Interesting, indeed].

    "Interesting? Let''s see if you can say that before you get fucked."

    [Fucked? You mean you''re going to kill me now? Ho, ho, ho. That''s a lot of balls. Yeah.]

    Dantalian pulled one of the gentleman''s mustachioed faces forward, and then said softly.

    [Aye. All humans believe they are special. Chosen. Unique. A hero who can kill demons and bring peace to the world. A protagonist. Something like that.]

    His face soon changes into that of a seductive woman.

    Then it changed to that of an innocent child, then that of a stubborn man, then that of a fierce old man.

    A thousand faces. It was indeed a transformation worthy of Dantalian''s face.

    [But no, everyone in the world is special. Everyone is a hero, a lover, a fool, a viin. They''re all protagonists, and they all have their own stories to tell].

    At the same time, Dantalian exhaled a thick ck mist from his mouth.

    The mist filled the entire room in an instant, like smoke from a fire.

    Flutter.

    Three unpleasant objects fell in front of Vikir and Dolores, who stepped back.

    They were dull leather sacks, simr to the ones that Ephebo, Hebe, Pedo, and Geronto had once worn over their faces.

    The leftmost sack wriggled.

    ...gasp!

    ck blood stirred on the surface of the thin leather sack.

    And then.

    ... thud! ... thud! ... thud!

    The three leather sacks began their mad rampage.

    Their ominous iling was like the sacks covering a condemned man''s face as he wriggles on the brink of death.

    Dantalian smiled with satisfaction, as if he had already seen inside the sack.

    [...Now, shall we hear your story?]

    * * *

    In the dense fog.

    Dolores looked around for Dantalian, who had disappeared behind the fog.

    "What is this fog? It doesn''t disappear even with divine power."

    "...Be careful."

    Vikir had faced Dantalian before.

    His attack patterns were somewhat predictable.

    Then, he saw one of the three ck sacks floating in the air open wide.

    Vikir spoke in a dry voice.

    "That is the ''Sack of Shame'' carried by Dantalian the Face Collector."

    "...?"

    Dolores scratched her head.

    The sack of shame turned toward Dolores and pulled something out of it.

    Dolores''s expression instantly turned to horror as she saw what was inside.

    "Ouch! What?"

    It was Dolores herself who emerged from the sack.

    [....]

    The fake Dolores looks at him with an expressionless face.

    Vikir calmly exined.

    "The Sack of Shame causes the target to make a face of shame. It''s a mental attack by bringing their most shameful memories to life."

    So what I''m about to see is a recreation of one of Dolores'' most humiliating memories in her life.

    It''s a terrifying technique that not only breaks down the bond between colleagues in an instant, but also makes you lose yourposure.

    ... but?

    Shhh-

    After walking out of the sack of shame, Dolores didn''t do much.

    The only thing she did was pee her pants ....

    "...."

    "...."

    Vikir and Dolores shut their mouths at the same time, as if they had made a pact.

    "I''m dead!"

    Dolores immediately unleashed a burst of white mes that blew away the sack of shame.

    [Ack!? What the hell, how did you ovee the face of shame so easily?!!]

    Dantalian''s bewildered cry could be heard from beyond the fog.

    Apparently, oveing this illusion would damage the demon beyond.

    And then. The next sack came to life and opened its gaping mouth at Dolores.

    Vikir''s expression hardened.

    "Next, the ''Sack of Fear''. It causes the opponent to make a face of fear."

    In other words, you bring out the face that scares them the most.

    The thing that emerged from the sack of fear stood before Dolores.

    It was a middle-aged man with a stern expression.

    Vikir recognized his face at once.

    "Cardinal Humbert!

    The godfather of the Old Order and Dolores''s biological father.

    Dolores'' expression stiffened as Humbert''s face appeared.

    "Oh, my father..."

    He was so flustered, he couldn''t even speak.

    [Dolores, why are you out here at this hour? Have you done your homework?]

    Cardinal Humbert stares down at Dolores in amanding manner.

    The whip in his hand was making her pupils dte uncontrobly.

    "That, that...."

    Dolores breaks out in a cold sweat, but she can''t meet Humbert''s gaze.

    Just then.

    A snap.

    There was a blow that blew Cardinal Humbert''s head off.

    Vikir. He had intervened in Dolores''s memory.

    "...The illusion is only an illusion. There is nothing to fear."

    At the sound of Vikir''s voice, Dolores let out the breath she''d been holding.

    A cold sweat trickled down her cheeks and onto her chin.

    "S-sorry. I don''t have a good rtionship with my father. For a moment, I forgot that it was an illusion."

    "... understands."

    Vikir nodded, not asking any further questions.

    There was only one sack left.

    "...That is the Sack of Love."

    Dolores nodded at Vikir''s words.

    At this point, I know what to expect. Perhaps the face of his beloved.

    But even for Dolores, it was hard to predict exactly what face she would find.

    She couldn''t remember a time in her life when she could say with confidence that she had ever loved someone.

    Sure, he''d been guided by the Rune Order''sw of "love your neighbor," but Dantalian''s "love" wouldn''t be that "love.

    And then.

    Tsutsutsutsuts...

    What emerged from the sack of love began to take shape.

    It was a man dressed in some sort of ck robe.

    A ck cloak covered his body, a top hat covered his head, and a grotesque mask shaped like a stork''s beak covered his face.

    It was the Night Hound.

    "...."

    "...."

    For a moment, there was an awkward silence between Vikir and Dolores.

    "Is this ...?"

    "Oh, no, that sack is weird, it drives people crazy!"

    Vikir slowly turned his head, and Dolores threw up her hands in frustration.

    Just then, from beyond the fog, Dantalian''s sneer could be heard.

    [Ho-ho-ho! My sack is honest, even more so than yours, and will pick up on the smallest emotion you have hidden in the deepest recesses of your heart and bring it out, even if you didn''t know it!]

    Dolores''s face turned bright red at those words, like a confirmation.

    "Wait! You''re wrong, I swear! ...No, not really, but anyway, I never thought of that...!"

    "...."

    Once again, Vikir said nothing.

    He simply drew his sword and engaged the night hound before him.

    Bang, bang, bang!

    Backed by the holy me of a saint, Vikir easily drove his sword into the night hound''s body, dispersing it into a handful of mist.

    "Fortunately, it doesn''t seem to be able to replicate the power of its body."

    That was probably because Dantalian hadn''t yet drawn on his magic reserves.

    For when they had met in the Age of Destruction, before the regression, Dantalian had been able to recreate his opponent''s face in his memory, and even his strength.

    Vikir felt fortunate to have found Dantalian so soon.

    Meanwhile.

    "...."

    St. Dolores stirred, unable to speak.

    Vikir pondered for a moment what he should say to her.

    ...Clunk!

    The three sacks began to move again.

    [Ho-ho-ho-ho I didn''t really expect much from a saint, I mean, what kind of a punk would have a past like that].

    "...."

    [However, I do expect something from you,]]

    Dantalian''s words were aimed squarely at Vikir.

    A demonic technique that could draw out and manifest a target''s shameful memories, fears, and love ones.

    It was now unfolding against Vikir.

    Coming up.

    Tsutsutsutsuts...

    The first, the Sack of Shame, has begun to sift through Vikir''s memories and recreate them in the present.

    Next.

    Landscapes and objects began to materialize in the mist.

    "...huck!?"

    It was enough to make Dolores gasp.

    [...er?]

    Even Dantalian, the creator of the illusion, was at a loss for words.

    A sky stained ck. A mountain of corpses. Rivers of blood.

    The center of a world where everything has been destroyed.

    A single tall pir stood above the horrifyingly barren ground.

    Dolores''s gaze naturally traveled to the top of the pir.

    And soon, the ''something'' at the top of the pir imprinted itself deeply on her retinas.

    A head.

    A severed head,id out in a grotesque disy.

 Chapter 164: Sin and Punishment (4)

    <h4>Chapter 164: Sin and Punishment (4)</h4>

    A dark red sky. A flock of crows circling. A neck hanging high on a pole.

    Dolores''s mouth was half open at the horrific scene before her.

    ''Where the hell am I?''

    No other battlefield in the world, no other conflict zone, to her knowledge, is this harsh and barren.

    What''s more, the head hanging above her is....

    ''Who is it?''

    Dolores squinted, trying to focus.

    Perhaps that neck belongs to someone very closely associated with the Night Hound.

    So Dolores decided to take a closer look at the decapitated man''s face.

    It might help him guess the identity of the Night Hound.

    But.

    Cackle.

    A crow swoops down and begins pecking at the severed head.

    Cluck, cluck, cluck, cluck, cluck.

    More crows swoop down, pecking at his throat.

    Dolores swallows hard at the sight of the neck through the ck feathers.

    It was impossible to tell from the shape of his neck what his face had once been.

    It was already so badly dposed and pecked at by so many crows that it was all but a skeleton.

    ''Is this the shameful memory of the Night Hound?''

    Dolores turned her head slightly to look at the Night Hound beside her.

    "...."

    He stood still, unmoving.

    There was no way to tell if he was wearing a mask of shame or not.

    Only.

    "Reminds me of old times."

    The short word was still dry, and the only emotion it contained was a pungent, ashy regret.

    <Name: ...ir ... ...Kerrville

    The room, which is almostpletely torn, flutters softly.

    In the end, Dolores was unable to glean any information about his identity from the Night Hound''s memories.

    It only made her more curious and more pitiful about what he had been through.

    ''... What kind of life has this man led, and what kind of burden is he carrying alone?''

    Just like in the past when treating gue patients together, the grave look of the night hound aroused even more faint and sorrowful feelings in her.

    It was more than maternal love, more than justpassion for a neighbor in need, more than a saintlypassion.

    Meanwhile, Vikir was looking at a scene he hadn''t seen in a long time.

    The old homnd.

    The old world he had left behind.

    He missed it a little, but he never wanted to go back.

    The world line where he was executed after being falsely used of being a traitor. The owner abandoned him even though he worked hard as a hunting dog.

    ''I''ve gotten my revenge, and there''s nothing left for me to do.''

    Hugo Baskerville, the man who cut off his own head and hung it on a pole, but it turned out to be the handiwork of Andromalius, disguised as Set Baskerville.

    Since he was eliminated and all the people involved in the family were hunted down and executed, the fundamental revenge is already over.

    Of course, there was still revenge for Hugo Baskerville, but that wouldeter.

    Ugh.

    Vikir raised his sword in a casual manner and sliced through thendscape in front of him.

    The blow flew, shattering its neck and sending the crows circling it away.

    ck feathers fluttered in a mess.

    Screech!

    Caw caw

    Caw caw caw

    Cackle cackle cackle cackle

    Cackle, cackle, cackle... cackle cackle

    Ak Ak Ak Ak Ak

    Cac cac cac cac

    Ak Ak Ak Ak

    cac cac

    caw caw

    The crows circled and disappeared into the sky.

    The world was soon torn to shreds.

    Then, from beyond the ck fog, came Dantalian''s snarl.

    [What are you? Who are you? Why are thendscapes of my homnd in your memories?]

    Theughter was gone from his voice, reced by confusion and bewilderment.

    Vikir did not answer Dantalian''s question.

    [...Yes. It doesn''t matter if you don''t answer, I''ll just have to see for myself].

    Dantalian opened the next sack.

    The sack pulsed as if it were alive, and he pulled the next one out of its mouth.

    It was ''Fear'', rummaging through Vikir''s memories to find the most terrifying.

    Tsutsutsutsuts...

    Soon, an old man walked out of the night fog.

    Vikir recognized him at a nce.

    "Hugo, Hugo Les Baskerville!

    A gray-haired old man. His face covered with age spots and wrinkles, countless burn marks and scars.

    "Who, who is that?"

    Dolores didn''t recognize Hugo at all.

    Of course, she did recognize him.

    As a high ranking member of the Quovadis, she often exchanged pleasantries with Hugo, the iron-blooded swordman lord of Baskerville, at great events in the Empire.

    But thest Hugo in Vikir''s memory was a world away from the one she knew today.

    The long years of war hadpletely changed a man''s appearance.

    Hugo''s face, which seemed stubborn but solemn and dignified, aged rapidly within a few years after the war began.

    Not only are there wrinkles and age spots, but the face itself has be more severe and harsh.

    Moreover, the numerous sh marks and makeup marks on his face make old Hugo look even more murderous.

    Normally, a hound should be paralyzed by the majesty of its "master," imprinted in its bones.

    But for some reason, Vikir didn''t feel so scared of Hugo in front of him.

    ''Maybe it''s because I saw you holding the Pomeranian and smiling like an idiot... ... .''

    Hugo had even recently shaved off his mustache to suit the Pomeranian''s tastes!

    When the master loses his dignity, the hound stops listening.

    Thus, Vikir, too, was able to let go of his instinctive fear of Hugo to some extent.

    What''s more, Dantalian hasn''t yet umted enough magic to fully recreate the power of the figure in his memory.

    Tsk-tsk.

    Vikir pushed the aura contained in the magic sword Beelzebub to its limit and thrust it forward.

    Seven teeth bite down on Hugo.

    Yes, this time it was the hound biting his master.

    ''Not long from now.''

    Vikir tore the fake Hugo''s entire body to shreds before his eyes, vowing that one day he would bite him in real life.

    Dolores, seeing the illusion shattered, asked Vikir cautiously.

    "Excuse me..., if you don''t mind me asking, who was that old man just a moment ago?"

    "My father."

    "...ah."

    Dolores remained silent.

    She had seen her father in the sack of fear.

    And the Night Hound had seen him in the sack of fear, too.

    Dolores saw herself in the Night Hound.

    Could the Night Hound see himself in her?

    Dolores thought to herself, ''... ... I thought, ''I hope so.'' If only it could be of the slightestfort to him.

    Just as he had beenforted by the Night Hound.

    Meanwhile.

    [Off!]

    The blow that Vikir had unleashed in killing Hugo was returned to Dantalian.

    [Yelp! How, how do you ovee shame and fear so easily, you inhuman thing!]

    Dantalian exims in a blood-curdling voice.

    [But! Even for you, who are so emotionless, it won''t be as easy this time, ho ho ho ho!]

    Thest sack began to move.

    ''Love''. The most primal element that drives humans.

    An essential, indispensable emotion that is necessary for a person to live.

    This time, it was the turn of Vikir''s most beloved thing to emerge from the sack.

    "...."

    Dolores felt herself tense up for some reason.

    Although it was really immature and pathetic to feel this way in the middle of a fight against a demon of Demon King rank.

    ''...I''m still curious!''

    Dolores cursed herself for letting her eyes wander, but she remained alert.

    He would keep an eye on whatever came up.

    Whether it was in preparation for a fight with a demon, or out of curiosity about the Night Hound''s past, she couldn''t tell.

    And now.

    Tsutsutsutsuts...

    The sack Dantalian had left behind as ast resort opened wide.

    [Hohohohoho! A guy like you is bound to break down miserably in the face of love! No matter how hard you are, you can''t help but lose yourposure and be embarrassed in front of the face of your loved one! It''s not for nothing that romance sells well regardless of the era! Love is something that transcends everything... ... uh!?]

    But Dantalian''s cheerful voice didn''tst long.

    "...!"

    Even Dolores felt the same way as Dantalian for now.

    Flutter.

    Her eyes widened, and the sack of love opened wide in front of her.

    The face of the Night Hound''s beloved had emerged from the dense night fog.

 Chapter 165: Sin and Punishment (5)

    <h4>Chapter 165: Sin and Punishment (5)</h4>

    The sack opened wide.

    What came out of it was a face, the face of Vikir''s beloved.

    "...!"

    And the moment she saw the face.

    Dolores could only stare nkly.

    ''Isn''t anyone here?''

    Yes, it was.

    The sack was empty.

    Nothing. Nothing at all.

    This only perplexed Dantalian even more.

    [Nonsense! I''ve heard that man is an animal that lives for love! No, not just humans, but all animals have the emotion of love! But what the hell are you...!]

    But Dantalian''s words were cut short.

    ...Thud!

    Vikir''s sword, which had appeared while throwing away the ck sack, had ferociously dug into his chest.

    [Thud!?]

    Dantalian stumbled backwards, spewing ck blood.

    All thirty-six faces contorted in disbelief.

    Could it be that the magic hadn''t been activated?

    Maybe that''s why no faces emerged from the sack?

    Unfortunately, Dantalian''s hopes were dashed.

    The spell had been activated as normal, and the massive mana cost of the spell, as well as the massive recoil damage from the shattering of the spell, were still a burden to Dantalian''s body.

    Furthermore, as Vikir burrowed into Dantalian''s defenseless embrace, he continued to thrust his deadly sword at him, stabbing him repeatedly.

    ...Puff, puff, puff, puff!

    An aura so dense that it felt like a solid rushed in.

    It pierced through flesh like the teeth of a beast, shattering bones and slicing through entrails.

    A boiling aura slithers out from its teeth, gnawing at the very soul.

    Even in the body of a demon, there is no business.

    [Aghhh...!]

    Dantalian backed away in a huff, clutching his ragged stomach.

    Blood, flesh, and guts dripped down, covering the floor like asphalt.

    [No way! How is it possible that a human has never loved anyone in his entire life! There is no such thing as a human!]

    "You know, here."

    Vikir answered, short and dry.

    Having been taught from a young age to always kill her emotions, Vikir grew up straight, not crooked.

    In a way, that straightness may have been a form of crookedness, but he didn''t know it at the time.

    A killing machine, stripped of all emotion and driven strictly bymand. A hound of death.

    That was Vikir van Baskerville in his previous life.

    A time when all things were fleeting.

    Was there any room for love in a hound whose emotions had been worn and dried over five hundred crossfires, great and small? Was there anyone to teach him to love?

    "...."

    And Dolores, watching behind him, could vaguely imagine Vikir''s reasoning.

    It was the smell of life, the resonance of souls, that Vikir felt the more he opened his aura.

    In the process of praying, healing, and buffing for others, priests empathize deeply with their souls.

    They are affected and sometimes even assimted by those feelings.

    Dolores remembered a phrase she once heard from the Night Hound.

    ''Theology is the study of understanding people.''

    At the time, she didn''t fully understand the true meaning of this statement, but now she understands why.

    At this moment, Dolores was empathizing more deeply than anyone else with the feelings and condition of the Night Hound.

    ''What kind of life has he led? How heavy a burden has he been carrying alone? How long has he been fighting this lonely, solitary struggle?''

    Right now, she knew the Night Hound as a terrorist not long ago.

    The newspaper club she belonged to had even given him a ''viin name''.

    ... But no.

    He was a fighter, fighting the evils of this world before anyone else.

    A prophet who was persecuted by the world, understood by anyone, and loved by no one throughout his life.

    How far does he stand and how far does he look ahead?

    How lonely, how hard, how sick, how wounded must he be?

    Suddenly, a warm tear dampens the corner of her eye.

    Dolores wanted to stand behind him, or beside him, as a human being.

    To walk with him, to be his strength, not just along his path.

    Like the legend of a priest who went on a long journey along with a warrior to subdue the Demon King a long time ago.

    I wanted to stand beside him, hold him close, andfort his scarred soul.

    I wanted to wrap my arms around his thorny feet and hold him close.

    I wanted to hold his shed hands.

    I wanted to let you know that you are never alone.

    ... But Dolores also knew.

    The Night Hound was never one to lean on others.

    He would never give his side to another.

    He will not lean on or depend on others.

    He will always stand tall, alone, and forge ahead.

    Even if it is a thorny ascetic path, a path of blood and gore.

    Dolores, whose soul''s temporary and partial assimtion had allowed her to know it so well, felt all the more sorry for him.

    Deep down, she knows that the person she hopes wille to her will nevere to her.

    But what a painful, agonizing, and maddening feeling it is to be a woman who knows but can''t help but wait.

    ...But she was not the only one who was sick and tired of waiting.

    [Aaaahhhhhhh!?]

    Dantalian.

    He really is sick and tortured.

    The demon, who until now had been sitting in an arrogant posture andughing at humans, contorted his 36 faces and screamed.

    Vikir grabbed Dantalian by the hair and wouldn''t let go, stabbing him here and there with his sword.

    Hounds don''t let go once they bite. That''s how they''re trained.

    Vikir was trying to stay in the closebat, even as his body was being torn apart by Dantalian''s waves of mana.

    [Aaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!]

    Dantalian picked up a random shard from Vikir''s memory.

    Vikir''s memories are filled with cold, sharp shards.

    Dangerous enough that even the demon Dantalian could cut his hand if he made a mistake.

    It was like sifting through a sack full of shards of sword and ss.

    ''...Fuck. What kind of human has lived this kind of life!''

    Dantalian''s hands turned to rags, and he picked up the one fragment of memory that still had some warmth in it.

    He turned it into a face that he hoped would stir Vikir''s familial feelings.

    [Behold, the face of one who once cared for you; can you stab me like this?]

    ...It happened to belong to Set Les Baskervilles.

    Set had in closed training for so long that even those within his family had forgotten his face, and Dolores could only shake her head when she saw it.

    ''...Who is that?''

    A handsome man with white skin, dark eyebrows, and a rather aloof appearance.

    His face was strikingly handsome, but his skin was bloodless, giving him an eerie appearance.

    ''Could he be rted to the Night Hound?''

    But there was no time for Dolores to study Set''s face and remember.

    "Thank you, for encouraging me."

    Vikir''s reaction was much quicker.

    Seeing the look on Set''s face made him even more excited than he was before the regression.

    So what was supposed to be one poke became two.

    Puff! Puff-puff-puff! Pooh-pooh-pooh-pooh!

    Set''s face explodes from the frenzied barrage of blows.

    At the same time, the entirety of Dantalian''s body began to be shredded into smaller and smaller pieces.

    [Aaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!]

    A terrifying baptism of fire as even the demon''s soul is shredded.

    Then.

    [...aahhhh! Don''t bully me!]

    One of Dantalian''s many faces changed.

    An age that appeared to be early teens. Beautiful blonde hair. Fair skin. Slightly sunken eyes that looked somewhat sad.

    An old, crude gold ne around her neck with the word ''Nymphet'' written on it.

    Suddenly.

    "...!"

    Vikir froze.

    Dantalian didn''t know what made Vikir pause, but he figured this was his chance.

    [Fuck you!]

    Countless faces shouted, purple tongues lolling out.

    Dantalian sticks out his de-like tongue, indeed a demon of discourse.

    But.

    Kurrrrr!

    Dantalian''s attack fails again.

    Dolores, enraged by the look on Nymphet''s face, intervened with another burst of white mes.

    "I told you you had the wrong person."

    Dolores scorched the tip of Dantalian''s tongue and immediately leapt to the Night Hound''s side.

    In a moment of crisis, she became even more poised and calm.

    "?"

    Vikir scratched his head, not sure why Dolores had suddenly be so brave.

    Then, Dolores looked back at Vikir and said with a determined air.

    "If it gets hard, lean on me."

    "??"

    "I''ll always wait for you."

    "????"

    Vikir tilted his head in confusion once more.

    ...Pow!

    The white light that Dolores had just emitted instantly enveloped Vikir''s entire body.

    "...!"

    "...!"

    At that moment, both Vikir and Dolores felt it.

    Soul resonance.

    It''s the kind of feeling you get when you''re walking down the same path together.

    It was literally the kind of connection that can only happen between ''soul resonance''.

    And the moment it happened.

    ...A sh!

    The light emanating from Dolores''s body exploded tenfold.

    The Awakened Saint''s buff.

    And the one that had the greatest impact on a saint''s soul.

    The only being that can cause a Saint to awaken.

    Those who possess a soul of the same magnitude.

    The Night Hound.

    He is what St. Dolores recognized as a "soul resonance".

    Whether consciously or unconsciously.

    "...aah?"

    Dolores felt all the strength drain from her body.

    Divine power exerted with all her might to the point where she could not even stand.

    The enormous buff of power that had been unleashed was instantly absorbed into Vikir''s body.

    Dolores, who was naturally gifted, had an enormous amount of divine power.

    Now that it had exploded tenfold, the resulting buff was no ordinary buff.

    The moment Dolores'' buff entered his body.

    Boom!

    Vikir felt the wall that had been standing over his head had been breached with a single blow.

    The high, solid wall that had seemed imprable for so long had been torn down, and he could see beyond it.

    Swordmaster.

    The realm of the supreme.

    The realm of the superhuman.

 Chapter 166: Sin and Punishment (6)

    <h4>Chapter 166: Sin and Punishment (6)</h4>

    The moment Dolores saw the face of Dantalian''s created Nymphet, she felt something snap inside her head.

    The string of reason she had always held so tightly in her calm attitude.

    The moment it snapped, she was plunged into an incredibly irrational and emotional state, and the intensity of her emotions unleashed a power she didn''t know she had.

    And that emotion and power is directed toward one person.

    Vikir. The Night Hound!

    Buffed by Dolores'' spirit, Vikir saw a new world open up to him, a world beyond his own.

    Swordmaster.

    The amplified aura within him radiates from the hilt of his magic sword, Beelzebub.

    Quack, quack, quack!

    Gas to liquid, and liquid to solid.

    Boiled to the limit and hardened, the aura gradually bes a solid mass, like a lump of blood coagted by heat.

    And then it began to spin in a circle, following thews of mana.

    Kiyiyiying-

    The solid aura coated on the sword rotated at an invisible speed, hovering around the edge of the sword.

    It looked like countless logging saws gathered together and rotating.

    Weing- Kagagagagak!

    Vikir flicked the sword lightly, and the rocks, rebar, and other debris in front of him burst into mes.

    Just a flick of the sword was enough to do this. It was an insane cutting power.

    ''...This is insane.''

    Even the normally dull Vikir was deeply surprised.

    Had Hugo always felt like this?

    When you''re at the level of a master, you can''t see what''s below you.

    He could see why Hugo had been treating people below him like flies.

    ''Hugo, in his previous life, had even risen two levels from Swordmaster.''

    It would soon be revealed that there were lower, middle, and higher levels of Swordmaster.

    Vikir had temporarily be a lower Swordmaster with the help of a saint from the peak level of Graduator, and he would take this sensation to heart from now on.

    Later, he''d have to make it this far on his own, without buffs.

    Meanwhile.

    [Aaaahhh!]

    Dantalian was being torn apart from the inside out.

    Vikir was shing at Dantalian''s body with shards of aura spinning at lightning speeds, slicing here and there.

    The awl-like magic sword Beelzebub had been used primarily for stabbing, but not anymore.

    Rather, the rotating form of its aura specialized more in shing, but that didn''t mean its stabbing power was weakened.

    ''Aside from my increasedbat power, this feeling of exaltation makes me feel like I can do ... anything.''

    Vikir was in a rare state of tion.

    The resonance of the soul, the arrangement of the buff as if it were made by knowing the size and location of the internal organs and blood vessels of the entire body.

    It was an excitement that felt like an extension of the feeling of wearing new clothes that fit and looked good on you.

    The holy power of Dolores spread warmly throughout Vikir''s body, elerating the flow of mana.

    Blood vessels expand and blood and mana flow more quickly.

    The aura trembled, and the amplitude it produced expanded.

    This was the result of the ''soul resonance'' effect.

    And Vikir had some knowledge of this phenomenon.

    ''Yes, before the regression, Dolores, Saint of Steel, only granted this buff to a few heroes in her vicinity.''

    At the time of the annihtion war, there were only a handful of beings who could receive Dolores'' buffs.

    Dolores healed everyone without discrimination, but she was careful with her buffs.

    Only a handful of Heroes had the power to maximize the effectiveness of her buffs.

    Heroes like Hugo Les Baskerville, patriarch of the House of Ironblood Swordman, and Morg Camus, patriarch of the House of Morg and known for his nickname, The Empress Dowager.

    But what about now?

    Vikir has Dolores'' buffs all to himself.

    It meant that Dolores recognized and understood him deep down, but unfortunately, Vikir didn''t know this.

    He just assumed he was lucky.

    Meanwhile.

    Dolores was feeling her body and the Night Hound''s bodypletely envelope and merge into one.

    It wasn''t just their bodies, but their souls as well.

    She found greatfort and empathy in this process, even if it was only temporary.

    She had never heard the Night Hound say anything particrlyforting, but somehow she felt as if he had embraced her fatigue and feelings of inferiority.

    She had often wondered this.

    ''Everyone in the world confesses their sins and pours out their troubles to me, but... then to whom do I confess my sins and pour out my struggles?''

    Sometimes it''s not enough to talk to God.

    You need to talk to a fellow human being.

    But for years, Dolores hadn''t been able to talk to anyone about her mental health.

    As Dantalian said, she had to always appear dignified and resolute as someone''s president, someone''s manager, someone''s saint, and someone''s daughter.

    But for once, she let go of all that and her loneliness.

    She pushed all of her emotions onto the broad back of the night hound in front of her.

    To her partner for the night, her ''soul resonance''!

    Thump, thump, thump, thump!

    Vikir pushed against Dantalian with a strength far beyond his usual.

    Dantalian, who had been burned by the Saint''s holy fire, was unable to withstand the sudden rush of Vikir''s aura.

    Vikir stretched out his sword and attempted to decapitate Dantalian.

    Dantalian''s head, with its many faces clustered together like grape vines, and the slender neck that connected it to his body!

    It was then that Dantalian made his final move.

    [Brother! Help!]

    Nymphet. Her face turns to Vikir.

    The faces of all the children in the nursery turned to Vikir and cried out.

    [Brother! I can still live!]

    [If this demon dies, we die too!]

    [Brother! Please! Please don''t kill this demon!]

    [You murderer! What do you care what happens to us!?]

    And Dantalian''s n seemed to work.

    Vikir''s sword had slowed, ever so subtly.

    Taking advantage of it, Dantalian summoned all his magic and unleashed Soul Strike.

    Boom!

    Dozens of Dantalian''s tongues converged to form a single spear, which struck Vikir directly in the heart.

    "...!"

    Vikir couldn''t even scream, he was bounced off the spot and sent flying, smashing two stone pirs and burying himself in a pile of debris.

    "No!"

    Dolores cried out in horror, but it was toote.

    Dantalian pushed his bloodied body to his feet andughed grimly.

    [Ho ho ho! In a fight between the original masters, a single move is all that is needed to produce such a futile result].

    Then, he strode towards Dolores, who stood there with a dazed expression.

    Smirksmirksmirksmirks...

    The face in front of him changed back to that of a man.

    A stern-looking, middle-aged man, Cardinal Humbert, the head of the Old Order.

    [Daughter, this father is a disappointment].

    "...!"

    [I sent you to the academy to raise the prestige of the family, and now you''re doing this? Do you think it''s a good idea to tell the world about the family''s affairs?]

    Humbert''s face contorts into an expression of contempt for the pathetic.

    [I thought you were a better human being, Dolores].

    "...!"

    Dolores'' small, slender body began to shake again.

    ''...Night Hound.''

    She had ovee Humbert''s form before, when it had leapt out of the sack of fear, because the Night Hound had been by her side.

    But there was no hound to save her now.

    She cowered, losing her earlier confidence.

    She crouches down, losing her confidence.

    Tsk-tsk.

    Then, Humbert''s face opens wide.

    His mouth, whichcks a jaw joint in the lower jaw, gapes wide open, resembling the gills of a giant snake.

    Dolores in her shell, and the snake about to devour the eggs.

    Dantalian smiled a sickening smile as he sought to devour Dolores.

    [Now, give your face to me...rr!?]

    But Dantalian''s voice was cut off mid-sentence.

    Pfft!

    Hot blood sshed ck.

    Without a sound or a movement, the sword sliced through Dantalian''s throat.

    Vikir was now standing behind Dantalian''s back with a cold gaze.

    [Uh, how? I''m pretty sure it''s the heart...]

    Dantalian, with the face of a Nymphet, stammered.

    Instead of answering, Vikir opened the inside of his ck cloak to show him.

    Tsk-.

    There was a ck sphere with an incontinence.

    The egg of Madame Eight-Legged. It had protected Vikir''s heart from Dantalian''s spear!

    Though the shell is slightly cracked, the egg is still strong.

    Vikir cradled it in his arms again and looked at Dantalian.

    "I don''t know what else to say, but...."

    With that, Vikir snapped Dantalian''s neckpletely.

    "Go to a bad ce."

    That was thest of Dantalian.

    ...Thud! ...Thud! Degurr!

    The faces of the Dantalian fell to the ground and rolled across the floor.

    However.

    [Brother... Brother... I''m in so much pain...]

    Dantalian''s remains were still there.

    Arms and limbs regenerated from beneath Nymphet''s face.

    It crawled across the floor, trying to get away.

    But Vikir stood in its way. With an unwavering gaze.

    ...Boom!

    The final strike pierced through the center of the nymph''s body.

    Only then did the Nymphet cease to move.

    [....]

    She raised her eyes that looked like they might close at any moment and said in a voice that looked like it might break at any moment.

    [Thank you... uncle].

    And then... Vikir''s gaze faltered.

    "...."

    Vikir carefully bent down and cradled Nymphet''s face in his hands.

    Then Nymphet lifted her copsing body with difficulty and wrapped her arms around Vikir''s neck.

    jjog-

    Nymphet then kissed Vikir lightly on the cheek.

    Tsutsutsutsuts...

    And then, it was all gone.

    All the darkness vanished, leaving only the rubble of the ruins.

    Dolores'' palm came closer and wrapped around the back of Vikir''s hand, who was sitting still.

    "Night Hound... are you all right?"

    Despite being overwhelmed by Humbert''s visions only moments ago, her first concern was for Vikir''s well-being.

    Just then.

    ...ttang-geng!

    The metallic sound of something falling through the crumbling stone pirs rang out.

    Vikir and Dolores turned their heads at the same time.

    Sparkle!

    A golden ne was shining brightly.

    ''Nymphet.''

    The words stood out like a beacon in the snow.

 Chapter 167: Sin and Punishment (8)

    <h4>Chapter 167: Sin and Punishment (8)</h4>

    The Old Order priests protest to Dolores.

    "Saint, did you even realize what you were doing?"

    "The deceased Guilty was a devout member of this Church, how dare you read from his letters during his lifetime!"

    "It is even a conversation with Cardinal Humbert, and it is confidential, confidential!"

    "How dare you release such a thing to the public...!?"

    They seemed afraid of losing the credit to the New Order priests.

    They say that a crisis is an opportunity, and in a situation like this, healing the sick andforting the victims is a way to strengthen an image.

    So the Old Order priests were eager to get to work on disaster recovery.

    This is why Dolores, Mozgus, and other New Order priestsined that they were being prevented from doing so.

    ... But theirints were short-lived.

    "Quiet."

    They froze in their seats as Dolores''s cold gaze met theirs.

    It was the first time they had ever seen such a cold, piercing gaze from the normally warm andpassionate woman.

    It was frightening to see someone so gentle when they were angry.

    Dolores''s single line brought the Old Order priests to a standstill.

    And her next recitation had them all turning blue in the face.

    "Baron Gorg, murder of a groom who resisted while exercising his right to first night, subsequent suicide of the bride, heavily punishment of the family, resulting in the destruction of the family, pardoned by the payment of a billion gold in donation!"

    "Viscountess Moscoe, fraudulently getting her sons hired at the Imperial Central Bank and promoting them up the ranks, resulting in many job candidates with passing grades being rejected due to her sons rushing in! Pardoned with a 200 million gold donation per son!"

    "Mr. Guerrasso! Embezzlement, dishonesty, and maniption of the stock price to the detriment of shareholders to the tune of nearly 20 billion gold! Pardoned with a 50 million gold donation!"

    "Madame Pierre! Kidnapping and imprisoning underage boys with nowhere else to go, sexually exploiting them, and forcing them into illegalbor! Pardoned with an donation of 15 million gold!"

    "Cult leader Manimani! Intentionally spreading the gue to all corners of the country and paralyzing the local economy! Pardoned with 100 million gold in donations!"

    .

    .

    The full extent of Guilty''s indulgence was revealed.

    A long list of grave sins that could never be forgiven as they were.

    And the sums paid for them were often paltry and inadequate to the crime.

    Inquisition.

    How can someone wear the clothes of a saint while wearing a human mask and forgive something like this?

    Even the protesting Old Order priests could hardly believe their ears.

    "He sold indulgences to demons like that?"

    "For that price? No way. There must have been four or five zeros missing."

    "Especially cult leader Manimani, who deserves to be burned at the stake."

    "I can''t believe Cardinal Humbert and Lord Guilty could do such a despicable thing! There is such a thing as an indulgence!"

    "Ha, but the seal on that letter must be...."

    The chatter wasn''t justing from the Old Order priests.

    The agitation spread beyond the people of the Quovadis to the general public.

    "How could the Quovadis do this!"

    "What a corruption of devotional chant!"

    "Calm down! That''s an Old Order problem! It has nothing to do with the New Order priests!"

    "Don''t lump the Old Order priests in with this! It''s only a problem with a few of them!"

    The chatter intensifies.

    The priests were about to get into a fistfight among themselves.

    In the midst of the chaos, Dolores finished reading the materials the Night Hound had delivered.

    It detailed the dealings of Guilty and Humbert, the ugly realities of what was supposed to be society''s leadership, how the offerings to the gods had been used as investments, how they had been siphoned off for political funding and illegal lobbying, and even how they had colluded with local cults.

    There was also evidence of the sale of farming tools such as pitchforks, wood chips, sticks, and even pig bones as holy relics.

    The number of holy relics sold had already exceeded 30,000, with propaganda and ns to exempt one year of purgatory for each relic.

    The public was shocked to learn about all of this.

    "...."

    The Academy''s boy and girl reporters also stopped taking notes and looked dumbfounded.

    The horrific molestation of the Faithful Quovadis had been revealed by a young saint from the same Quovadis family.

    In response, Doloresunches into a retort that has kept her up all night.

    "I, Dolores of the New Order, reply to these atrocities of the Old Order as follows!"

    Once again, the pens of the crowd straightened.

    Whispers echoed through the notepads.

    Screenshots of mana floated around the room, their shes popping.

    Dolores began her speech in a steady voice.

    "First, when our Lord and Teacher, Rune, says ''repent,'' he means that the entire life of the faithful must be repented! Second, these words cannot be understood as sacramental penance to Rune, that is, confession and absolution performed by the priest in his office. ... Fifth, the Pope has neither the power nor the will to pardon any punishment other than that imposed by his office or by the authority of canonw. The Pope has no power to pardon any sin except by dering or acknowledging that it has been pardoned by Rune. ... Twenty-seventh: ''It is only a human theory that the soul is released from purgatory as soon as the money thrown into the almanac makes a clinking sound.'' ... Forty-fifth: The Runic religion must be taught that anyone who sees a poor person and passes him by, offering money for indulgences, is not buying a pardon from the Pope, but rather the wrath of Rune! Forty-sixth: Teach the Runes that those who do not have the luxury of abundant wealth are obligated to save what they need for their families and should never squander it on indulgences! ...Fifty-first: Teach the Runes that to the many people who have been robbed of their money by certain indulgence preachers, the Pope must pay them back, even if it means selling all the churches of the Order! ... Ny-ninth, to suppress the objections enumerated by themon man, without addressing them with sound reason, but merely by force, is to make the Pope a mockery, and the Runes unhappy! ... Ny-fifth, to make the Runes have more confidence in entering the kingdom of heaven through many sufferings than byfort!"

    She read the rebuttal, which was as many as 95 articles, fluidly and without stuttering a single word.

    Her determination was such that even her opponents, the Old Order priests, were moved to silence for a moment.

    At the same time, Dolores felt her legs rx.

    She was thankful that the flowing white skirt of her priestly robes hid the tremor.

    Mozgus, who was beside her, supported her.

    "That was an excellent rebuttal, Sister. You''re absolutely right! This Mozgus is deeply moved."

    "...I''m out of my mind."

    Dolores thought of what had happenedst night, or rather, this morning.

    After the Night Hound''s departure, the energy that had made her body so hard and strong had vanished like a lie.

    She spoke cheerfully, recalling her overflowing strength, but in truth it was only a psychological factor; the strength itself had long since disappeared.

    ''The Pope once said. A saint can only be awakened when she finds a true soul mate.''

    The resonance of the soul, the assimtion of emotions, the resulting explosion of divine power.

    In other words, this means that you gain the ability to multiply your power.

    How do we make this ''awakening'' more than a temporary thing, but a permanent one?

    Now that the Night Hound is gone, there''s no one to ask and no one to test.

    ''The older ssical saints often spoke of awakening in the past, and I wish I had listened to them a little more, instead of dismissing them as empty words.''

    Dolores still hadn''t figured out why the Night Hound could be her resonance, her ''awakening condition''.

    There is no way for her to know that this is because Vikir is the only veteran who came from the Age of Destruction and knows the true ''Destruction''.

    ...Whatever.

    The man chosen by Rune.

    At this point, only he is worthy of being her ''soul mate''.

    Dolores raised her head once more at this.

    Then he spoke in a low voice.

    "''The Night Hound''. I must see him again."

    At that moment.

    ... poof! ... poof! ... poof!

    The sound of a mana screenshot exploding behind her.

    Dolores spun around in surprise to find a crowd of reporters who had somehow gotten this close.

    The reporters rushed forward and spoke in unison.

    "The Holy Lady has dered a ''holy war'' against the Night Hound!"

 Chapter 168: Adorable Pet (1)

    <h4>Chapter 168: Adorable Pet (1)</h4>

    [Exclusive]

    "I must see him again"

    On the morning of January 0, Saint Dolores of Quovadis Family revealed a strong hostility towards the Night Hound.

    As she bit her lip and muttered, her grave expression was suffocatingly foreboding.

    Whether the Night Hounds are worthless or the Quovadis are worthless, the results will tell.

    In the meantime, some have suggested that Dolores, who is usually mild-mannered and euphemistic in hernguage, is using such stubborn and strongnguage that a "holy war" could be dered. ...

    Various newspapers began to circte.

    When the volunteers returned to Colosseo Academy, they were surprised to read the article in the academy''s weekly newspaper.

    "Wow, an article already appeared? We were at the scene of this history."

    "Hmmm. The head of the department has dered a holy war."

    "I didn''t feel like I was in the mood for that. I think the article went too far."

    Tudor, Sancho, and Piggy turned to the newspaper, each saying something.

    Next to them, Bianca and Sinir nodded.

    "That''s what journalists do. They have to be sensationalized to get views."

    "Hey, Vikir, what do you think?"

    Sinir asks, and everyone''s eyes turn in the same direction as hers.

    In the back, a few feet away from the group, stood Vikir.

    "...."

    Vikir walks quietly, reading a newspaper article.

    His mood is somehow lonely and despondent.

    "Why is he in such a mood, dude, aren''t you going toe, then I''ll go first...."

    As Bianca opened her mouth to speak in a sarcastic manner, Tudor, who was next to her, pped her on the side.

    "Hey. Don''t you have any sense of consideration?"

    "What? Considerate of what?"

    "How do you think Vikir feels right now?"

    "...How do I know what''s on his mind?"

    "Tsk, tsk, you inhumane bastard. You''re the same as always."

    Tudor turned his head slightly to look at Vikir behind him.

    Then he turned back to look at Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir.

    "Vikir, that guy, he peed in front of everyone yesterday."

    "Yeah, and on the head of the department''s body."

    "...There was a lot of it."

    "Ew, that''s dirty."

    "Your brother must be feeling really bad right now."

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir each chimed in with ament.

    Finally, Tudor nodded.

    "Vikir, he probably wants to be alone right now."

    "I know. I would have done the same."

    "I''m afraid that hastyfort can be poison."

    "Maybe he needs to take a piss, man, timidly. You don''t think we''re going to gossip or anything."

    "...No, I''d be nervous, to say the least, about that."

    Sinir nced back at Vikir behind him and muttered something wistful.

    "...I don''t mind my hyung peeing on me."

    "? Of course you wouldn''t mind. You''re not fucking cheap."

    Tudor said to everyone, pping Sinir on the shoulder.

    "Okay. Okay, so let''s leave Vikir alone for a while. Piggy, why don''t you sleep in our room tonight so he can be alone."

    "Huh? Can we do that?"

    "Why not? We''ll go do some work togetherter."

    "Okay, thanks, Sancho."

    It seemed that Piggy had gotten to know a lot of the other kids through this volunteer work.

    They naturally drifted away to give Vikir some alone time.

    Meanwhile.

    ''They''re going first, thank goodness.''

    Vikir sneaked off to the side, watching his ssmates swarm in front of him.

    Thud.

    Back in his dorm room, alone, Vikir sat down at his desk.

    A small wreath and a stick of incense were ced on the desk.

    As the incense burned, Vikir held the wreath in silence.

    It was a mourning for Nymphet.

    ''Are you being too hard on her? Did she get a kiss?''

    ''No.''

    ''It''s not ''no'', it''s ''don''t''! She wants to give you a kiss like that!''

    The conversation I had with the saint at the farewell reyed in my mind.

    ''If I had known it would be like this, I should have waited until then to get a kiss.''

    Vikir''s brow furrowed slightly.

    " ...I''ll have to hunt harder."

    When the Age of Destruction arrives, innocent children like Nymphet will die in countless numbers.

    It was necessary to hunt demons more diligently to prevent that.

    Demons would be in, as well as the traitors who had joined their ranks.

    "To do that, we''ll need to check the... harvest, right?"

    Vikir pulled something out of his bosom.

    It was a ck leather sack, taken from Ephebo, Hebe, Pedo, and Geronto, one from each of them.

    Each one of these sacks seemed to be alive, with pulsing threads beneath the ck leather.

    I put them together.

    "This is ...."

    Vikir''s eyes widened slightly.

    It was a single,rge mask.

    An oversized mask that looked like a bandana and a hoodbined.

    The ears had two pointy protrusions that looked like the scalp of a Doberman with its ears cut off.

    And Vikir already knew what it was.

    "So, this is what I get for my money."

    The mask radiated an ominous aura.

    It was an artifactparable to the Magic Sword Beelzebub.

    / Mask

    -Fratricide (ͬ������) +0

    -Human Face �C Beast Form(����F��) -Off

    Vikir closed his eyes and recalled the information about the artifact.

    Long ago, he had seen it in a book of all things in the East.

    ''It was a mask that grew stronger the more you killed your own kind.''

    The mask was a demonic mask that, if worn by a human being, would give them the power to kill their own kind.

    I''ve also heard that the mask has mystical powers, granting the wearer incredible recovery and mana umtion.

    ''...Although I''ve heard it has some side effects.''

    Vikir decided to try on the mask.

    Flutter.

    He flicked the mask off and ced it on his head.

    "...!"

    Vikir felt his body change.

    His tattered body and stamina from thest fight with Dantalian began to recover rapidly.

    It was a level of regeneration far beyond that of a Bog Smander.

    ''This is amazing!''

    Although the Bog Smander''s regeneration power was excellent for repairing its tattered body, it couldn''t replenish its physical or mental strength.

    But this mask can do that. With this mask, he could always recharge his fatigue.

    ...But there was one problem.

    "...?"

    Vikir gasped as he realized how much smaller he had be.

    "haeg-haeg-haeg-"

    He quickly turned to the mirror and saw a ck dog, a ck ball of fur, panicking in the room.

    ''This, this is me?''

    Vikir gasped as he looked at his reflection.

    There''s a saying that ''alcohol makes you a dog'', but it''s only used as a metaphor.

    There are other words like ''less than a dog'', ''worse than a dog'', ''like a dog'', etc.... All of them are just metaphors.

    But Vikir himself is now a real dog.

    Shiny ck fur, sharp teeth, cute little eyes, and pink jelly on his paws.

    He looks like a puppy.

    ''Wait, this is a side effect of the mask? Oh, no!''

    I eximed to myself.

    "Grrrr-"

    The only sound thates out of my throat is the sound a puppy makes when it has to poop.

    / Mask

    -Fratricide (ͬ������) +0

    -Human Face �C Beast Form (����F��) -On

    The artifact''s status is a little strange. Vikir felt the artifact turn from off to on.

    Vikir quickly touched his neck with his forepaw.

    Fortunately, there were still traces of the mask.

    When Vikir showed his will to take off the mask, it fell from the flesh and skin and slithered away as if it had a will.

    / Mask

    -Fratricide +0

    -Human Face �C Beast Form -Off

    Off again.

    Soon enough, Vikir regained his human form and stood naked in front of the mirror once again.

    Vikir chuckled as he looked at the clothes on the floor.

    "It would be nice to take off all my clothes at once before washing."

    He pulls himself together and puts on the mask again, and this time he doesn''t turn into a dog.

    There''s a clear line between on and off, so perhaps the mask can change when the wearer wants it to and not when they don''t.

    Vikir took off the mask and kept it.

    ''The ability to turn into a dog at will. More of a sub-ability than a side effect, I suppose.''

    The ability to turn into a dog would be useful in many ways in my future career as a night hound.

    Not only would it make me much more resilient, but it would also help me escape from prying eyes.

    ''...Let''s see, was it possible to have a pet inside the academy?''

    Luckily, there is no rule that says you can''t have animals inside the academy''s dormitories.

    Many students have owls, pigeons, turtles, hamsters, etc.

    However, they were not allowed to haverge animals that could cause damage to their surroundings, which meant bears, elephants, etc.

    Just as Vikir was looking through the book of dorm rules.

    Pozak-

    A sound caught Vikir''s attention.

    "...?"

    The sound of something small and insignificant breaking.

    Vikir turned his head to see what it was.

    It wasing from his coat hanging in the corner of the room.

    He dug into his pockets and found something amazing.

    A Madame Eight-Legged Egg.

    The ck sphere was getting incontinent.

    "Ah, so this is the one that blocked Dantalian''s spear at the end."

    I knew it was unexpectedly hard and bouncy, but I didn''t think it would be able to withstand a demon spear.

    But now that I look at it, it wasn''t even damaged.

    Crack, crack, crack!

    The shell was cracking.

    ''Even the mother, Madame Eight-Legged, dissolved her eggs in her acidic saliva, so they were resistant to the shock....''

    Vikir stared at the egg in disbelief.

    And then.

    Bam!

    The shell crackedpletely.

    The thing inside opened its eyes for the first time and looked at Vikir.

    "...?"

    Vikir shook his head.

    Inside the cracked shell, he could see something burnt, like a piece of bread.

    It was a creature he''d never seen before.

    And the creature, upon waking, saw Vikir for the first time.

    Vikir shakes his head, and the creature shakes his head back, mimicking Vikir''s behavior.

    Vikir was a little nervous.

    Though small and insignificant, this was clearly the young of Madame Eight-Legged, the reigning ''depth nightmare''.

    Vikir had nearly died many times trying to hunt the giant spider.

    But.

    Amazingly, the dust-like thing leapt right into Vikir''s arms.

    He rubbed his face in Vikir''s arms and started making the most unexpected noises.

    [Woof- haeg haeg- kkingkking-]

    It was like a newborn wolf pup.

 Chapter 169: Adorable Pet (2)

    <h4>Chapter 169: Adorable Pet (2)</h4>

    "...."

    Vikir closed his eyes.

    He remembered a former enemy he had once fought for his life.

    Danger Rating : S

    Size: ?

    Found in: Red and ck Mountains, 10th Ridge

    -Nicknamed ''Madame of the Depth''. Her full species name is unknown.

    In the distant past, the most terrible beings that inhabited the depths of the Oil Pole Hell were spiders of immense size, and it is believed that Madame Eight-Legged is a distant descendant that retains the form of those giant spiders that lived in the ancient past.

    The inside of its body is filled with disgusting poison, and its mesh, which is stronger than steel, cannot be cut by anything except the hellfire of the world.

    It is a dangerous, supremely powerful beast that has nearly killed Vikir himself several times in battle.

    This giant queen spider found it difficult to deal with even the ancient demons that ruled Hell, so they secured an independent space for them to live in a corner of the depths of the abyss.

    ...And now, before Vikir''s eyes, is thest descendant of that dreadful spider...

    [Kwi-ing- kyung-]

    Vikir''s hand rubs against his cheek, a round ball of dust.

    It sits or walks on two legs that sprout from its shaggy fur like crude doodles.

    ''Madame''s... cub?''

    Madame''s cub, or baby Madame.

    The tiny, insignificant creature was currently nuzzling the back of Vikir''s hand, smearing white saliva on it.

    The way he was acting, he looked like a puppy.

    " ... Is it because the wolf carried it when it was an egg?"

    This is why they say prenatal care is so important.

    I could understand, at least a little bit, why pregnant women are given foreignnguage lessons and ssical music while their babies are still in the womb.

    Then.

    Sticky.

    Vikir noticed something strange.

    A white, sticky mucus had begun to form where the cub had just licked.

    As it touched the air, it quickly hardened into a fine thread.

    " ... Is that spider silk? It''s incredibly hard."

    Vikir stretched the silk that the cub spewed from its mouth.

    Ordinary spider silk has a much higher tensile strength than the same amount of steel and superior sticity.

    Moreover, this little Madame was the descendant of Madame Eight Legs, and the web it spewed was the strongest wire ever.

    ...Boom!

    The threads barely snapped after Vikir pulled on them with a considerable amount of aura.

    That was the small amount of thread that was pulled out.

    "Its sticity and strength are both dozens of times greater than steel, and it even has adhesive properties...."

    It''s also extremely resistant to me, unlike ordinary spider silk, which would melt helplessly in a fire.

    ''I know. I wouldn''t have been able to break this web without Cerberus''s hellfire either.''

    Vikir thought, remembering his battle with Madame Eightlegs.

    [kkiing- kkuing- hegheg!]

    Meanwhile, the cub continues to nuzzle against the back of Vikir''s hand.

    Maybe it''s because its mother isn''t around, but it seems to be craving affection from someone it hasn''t seen before.

    Vikir suddenly felt sorry for the little one.

    ''Your mother was a terrifying creature.''

    The thought of that voracious appetite for the eggs she hadid made him realize that it would be far better for the cub to be separated from its mother.

    ...Whatever.

    Because of the first impression, the cub follows Vikir the first time it wakes up from the egg.

    Then.

    Khororok.

    The cubid down on the back of Vikir''s hand with a sullen expression.

    "...Are you hungry?"

    [haeg-haeg-haeg-]

    A puff of ck dust, sulking.

    It looks like a baker''s identally burnt choux.

    ''What should I feed him, anyway?''

    Should I feed him insects? Or meat?

    Vikir pulled a few biscuits from a drawer, a chunk of salted ham, and a slice of spinach pie that had gone cold.

    They were all things Piggy had bought for a midnight snack and shared with Vikir.

    But.

    [omnomnomnom...]

    The cub hadn''t really enjoyed the biscuits and ham.

    It was just a polite nibble out of courtesy.

    Even the spinach pie was gagged and spit out as soon as I put it in its mouth.

    "... That''s a picky eater."

    Vikir made the pup climb onto the back of his left hand.

    Boom!

    It perched itself on the back of Vikir''s hand like a wristwatch.

    Two legs wrapped around his wrist and held him there, like an impermanent watch.

    "Good. Let''s go find your prey."

    Vikir immediately set out to visit the dormitories.

    But there weren''t many ces to go.

    First, the library. A good ce to get information.

    Vikir left the dormitory and headed across the field to the library.

    Passing through therge, park-like main entrance of the library and entering the lobby, he was immediately drawn to the vast stacks of books that Colosseo Academy boasts.

    Endless rows of tall bookshelves were densely packed with books of all kinds.

    Vikir went to the Nature, Creatures, and Monsters section and started looking for a book.

    "Spiders... spiders... a g...."

    As Vikir scanned the shelves one by one.

    "Aah! Vikir!"

    He sees two round eyes peeking through the gap in the opposite bookshelf.

    He turns his head to see what it is, and sees a white-haired girl looking back at him, smiling brightly.

    Sinir.

    She strode forward, rounded the corner of the bookcase, and walked toward Vikir.

    She looked like an innocent puppy, and if she had a tail, it would be wagging furiously by now.

    "I''ve never seen youe to the library before."

    "Mmm. Ie often. Though this is the first time I''ve met you."

    "Are you here to study or check out books?"

    Sinir wore a badge on her chest that identified her as a librarian.

    Vikir was pleased.

    "Do you happen to have any books on spiders?"

    "Oh, you want to know how to kill a spider? That''s whates up when you search for pest extermination! What, there''s a spider in your room?"

    Hmm. Spiders doe up, but....

    Just then, Vikir felt his left wrist twitch.

    [Arring... ... ]

    The cub''s eyebrows were furrowed in a crudely drawn scrawl, giving it an angry look.

    It even made a sound to make itself seem threatening.

    Vikir corrected her question with a flick of his wrist.

    "I''m trying to figure out how to breed spiders, not exterminate them."

    "Oh, spider breeding? There are books on the subject. Do you want to get one? Do you like spiders?"

    "I don''t really like them...."

    Vikir was about to reply nonchntly, but stopped and looked down at his left wrist for a moment.

    There, he sees a burnt piece of bread looking up at him with pleading eyes.

    " ... but I think it''s about to get better."

    "Really? You like spiders, brother... that''s interesting."

    Sinir looks back at Vikir with a curious expression.

    Her questioning continued until she found a book on how to raise spiders.

    "Why do you like spiders? Because they have hair? Because they have legs? Because they have eyes? What about centipedes and millipedes and grimas and scorpions? What about beetles? Do you like all kinds of insects? Oh, no, spiders aren''t insects."

    What a curious girl, Vikir thought.

    ''I don''t think she''s always been this chatty.''

    It was a bit of a surprise, as she was usually a quiet, studious person.

    Soon, Vikir borrowed a few books and went out to a quiet ce.

    "...Let''s see. How to raise spiders."

    Vikir slowly flipped through the pages.

    "Temperature and moisture control is important... they are sensitive to mold... they need no light... be careful when taking off their shedding skin... molting time varies from individual to individual... toilet training requires patience and repetition... they are easily influenced by their surroundings, so take care of them from the time they are eggs... forrger spiders, it is good manners to wear a muzzle when walking...."

    It''s all verymon sense andmon knowledge.

    "Hmmm. If it says to give small insects or pieces of meat for baby food, why isn''t this one eating?"

    Vikir looked down at the cub on his left wrist and scratched his head.

    Tsk-tsk.

    Even now, the cub was slumped in a sullen pose.

    Then.

    Vikir turned the page of thest book and saw something.

    Some ''extraordinary'' spiders, the stuff of mythology, were raised on ''poison'' during their infancy.

    "...Eating poison?"

    Vikir flipped to the back page.

    For young spiders with great blood, the oue depends on what poison they''ve ingested throughout their lives.

    Only arge and varied intake of strong poisons can lead to a great adult spider.

    On the other hand, if only weak poisons or poisons of limited variety are consumed consistently, there seems to be a limit to howrge one can grow no matter how much he or she consumes.

    "I wonder if it feeds on poison."

    Vikir jumped into action.

    He bites down on his pinky finger to draw blood, and ck droplets ooze out.

    It was bloodced with the powerful poison of Madame Eightlegs.

    However.

    [Ex-whack-]

    The baby madam, who had a drop of blood in its mouth, trembled and fell to the side again.

    "You bastard. What''s wrong this time?"

    Vikir turned the pages of the book again.

    However, when the hatchlings have just emerged from the egg, they should be given the weakest poison first.

    As the spider grows older andrger and ingests stronger and more varied poisons, it develops a poison thatbines the strengths of many poisons into one, and it soon reigns supreme in its local ecosystem.

    "...Yes, the mother''s poison is strong."

    Madame Eightlegs'' poison was certainly unlike anything I''d ever seen before.

    It was a powerful acid that contained all the worst qualities of neurotoxins, hemorrhagic, dermal, muscr, gastrointestinal, stinking, painful, respiratory, and protosmic poisons.

    The poison was certainly too much for the hatchling to digest.

    "I see. I''ll get you a milder poison, but until then, you''ll have to eat an insect."

    Vikir catches one of the butterflies in the air, and the hatchling pops it into its mouth, whimpering.

    Although it was given to by the master, it''s obvious that it''s unappetizing.

    Just then.

    "Vikir! Are you here!?"

    Piggy''s voice came from far away.

    Vikir looked up and saw Piggy running towards him.

    Piggy had a newspaper in his hand.

    "Vikir, you''re in trouble!"

    "How did you know I was here?"

    "How could I? You''re always in your dorm, ssroom, club room, library, cafeteria, and gym, but that''s not the point... Did you see this!?"

    Piggy cleared his throat and shoved the newspaper article in front of Vikir''s eyes.

    "You''re a fucking star now!"

 Chapter 170: The Anti-Columnist (1)

    <h4>Chapter 170: The Anti-Columnist (1)</h4>

    Vikir took the article from Piggy.

    [Exclusive] ''The Night Hound'', the birth of an unprecedented viin who roams the Imperial Capital!

    -The Night Hound has shown up again. The nature of the threat has remained unclear until recently, when a terror like no other has swept across the imperial capital. Nothing is known about the Night Hound, whether it is an individual or an organization, or what its purpose is, and no family, not even the Imperial House, has been able to uncover it. All eyes are now on who will be the first to uncover the identity of this vicious viin and bring him to justice.

    The seven great houses of the Empire �C Baskerville the Ironblooded, Morg the Mage, Don Quixote the Spearman, Usher the Archer, Leviathan the Poisonous, Bourgeois the Tycoon, and Quavadis the Faithful �C have organized a hunt to capture the terrorist, and the Imperial Capital has ced a bounty of 1,000,000,000 gold on the head of the Night Hound. ...

    And underneath the newspaper, you can see a few pictures stuck to it, animated by magic.

    The newspaper was published by arge newspaper outside of the capital, and the pictures showed the locations where the Night Hound had raided, selecting only the branches of the House of Quovadis, most notably the Old Order.

    Naturally, the orphanage at the bottom, run by the Indulgentia family, was also in the picture, and Vikir could be seen in it.

    Of course, Vikir is just a tiny figure in the corner of the photo, nked by Tudor and Sancho. Piggy, Bianca, Sinir, and others were also in the picture, so there wasn''t much room for error.

    "Look, Vikir, we''re in the papers! I''m having one of those media days!"

    Piggy was thrilled to be featured as a passerby in this tiny photo.

    But it''s only for a moment, and Piggy soon grows sullen.

    "Ugh. Come to think of it, this is a picture of the scene of the worst disaster ever, and I can''t believe you like it. I''m the devil...."

    "Calm down. The guy who caused the disaster is the bad guy, not you."

    Vikir patted Piggy on the shoulder and went back to reading the paper.

    " ...hmm. No mention of a saint dering a holy war."

    "Uh-huh. Strange, that didn''t make the paper. It''s also missing the part about the attack on the Quovadis Old Order faction, and all the sins she''s been granting indulgences to society''s leaders, and the sins they''ve pardoned. Why isn''t that in there?"

    Vikir smiled dryly at Piggy''s question.

    That''s what the press is for.

    A trumpeter for the powerful.

    A dog barking for a more appetizing piece of meat.

    It is thew of the wild that you bite off more than you can chew.

    ''Cardinal Humbert''s breath must be that strong. Or maybe it was ''above him''.''

    No matter where you look in the newspapers, you won''t find anything about the Old Order''s scandalous behavior.

    However, in order to cover up this situation, they have made one ''night hound'' a public enemy, and they''re biting hard to cover it up.

    Piggy''s next words made Vikir nod.

    "Oh, by the way. Did you hear about this week''s club assignment? Our advisor wants us to each write a column condemning the Night Hounds'' acts of terrorism. It''s supposed to be a simple current events piece. If it''s good, he''ll publish it in the Academy''s newspaper, even if it''s from a first-year. ...."

    It seems that the Academy has decided to join the hunt for the Night Hound.

    ''I suppose it''s best to go with the flow for now, to avoid suspicion.''

    Vikir could use the Night Hound better than anyone else.

    He knew his misdeeds better than anyone.

    "Is this a column... where I can write down the most outrageous things I hear?

    Vikir took out a pen.

    And then he began an arduous (?) battle with himself.

    * * *

    An angry voice rang through the Academy''s newspaper department.

    "Why was my column killed?"

    Dolores. Student Council President of Academy Colloseo and head of the newspaper department.

    She was now calmly protesting to Professor Morg Banshee, the newspaper''s advisor.

    "Do you not know ...?"

    Professor Banshee''s eerie eyes shine through his dark hair.

    A pair of one-eyed sses hangs precariously from the tip of his hawkish nose.

    Professor Banshee tossed Dolores''s column onto his desk.

    What is the true antithesis of The Night Hound?

    -There were more than half a dozen branches of the Quovadis family that the Night Hounds raided.

    Prof. Banshee said in a blunt tone.

    "The Academy is politically neutral. We can''t publish such biased current affairsmentary."

    "I didn''t say it was biased, I wrote the facts!"

    "Facts? Didn''t Cardinal Humbert of the Old Order deny all of this, and the leaders of society on the ''indulgence list'' have said it''s not true."

    "That''s a lie!"

    "It could be the truth. Missing one thief shouldn''t make ten wronged people. I thought that was your usual belief?"

    "...."

    Dolores clenched her teeth so hard that blood stood in her throat.

    Professor Banshee continued.

    "It''s also no secret that you''re the Academy''s student council president and head of the newspaper department, and that you''re a saint of the Quovadis, the religious saint at the center of this controversy, and that the Quovadis saints are, for the most part, members of the New Order."

    "...."

    "So, do you think it''s okay for you to make your own arrangements and write such a biased article, or not?"

    Then a line of blood stood on Dolores''s forehead.

    She turned to face Professor Banshee.

    "The Academy''s rules state that ''all students admitted to the Academy are equal'' and ''are not influenced by their status outside the Academy''."

    "...."

    "Although I am a member of the Quovadis family, and am affiliated with the New Order, that is only a status outside of the Academy. While I am a student at the Academy, I am simply Dolores, a normal human being, and a student of the Academy. I am also free to express my opinions about the Quovadis."

    This time, Professor Banshee was silent.

    "...."

    "...."

    Dolores and Professor Banshee''s gazes locked together.

    Finally, Professor Banshee sighs.

    "I see. I admit it."

    "...?"

    Dolores tilted her head, and Professor Banshee''s brow furrowed.

    "There''s a letter from the Quovadis sent to the Academy."

    "A letter?"

    "Yes. It''s a press release for this story."

    "...!"

    A press release. That''s a way of predetermining the direction of a story.

    Professor Banshee shook his head.

    "They want us to focus mostly on the horrific acts of terrorismmitted by the Night Hounds and interviews with their victims, and to keep keywords like ''Quovadis,'' ''Old Order,'' and ''New Order'' to a minimum, or not at all."

    "That''s ridiculous! That''s trying to control the neutrality of the Academy!"

    "Well, it is. The dean is quite troubled by it."

    "Is Cardinal Humbert that powerful? So much so that even the Dean of the Academy is in trouble?"

    "If it were only Cardinal Humbert, you wouldn''t have listened to me in the first ce, would you?"

    Dolores'' expression hardened at those words.

    Above Cardinal Humbert. There is only one such being in the Quovadis.

    The Pope. The oldest and most exalted of the ssical saints.

    ''...How can he?''

    He is the one who will not lose his integrity, even if everyone else has fallen.

    How is this happening?

    ''There''s been a lot of talktely about how the Pope''s judgment has been a bit blurredtely due to his old age... Could Cardinal Humbert be taking advantage of that and blurring the Pope''s eyes and ears?''

    Dolores had a new cause for concern.

    When she was silent, Professor Banshee tapped his finger on the article on his desk.

    "And what... all this aside, your column doesn''t belong in the paper in the first ce. It''s too politically biased, and I can''t help but get the impression that you''re secretly favoring the Night Hound."

    "So what do you think you''re going to put in that empty space? The theater club''s new release, the sports club''s lead-in to the big game, the breathtaking backside of the Academy''s cover girl?"

    "Don''t be sarcastic, Dolores. I''m the professor, you''re the student."

    With that, Professor Banshee opened a drawer and pulled out a piece of paper.

    It was a column.

    "...."

    Dolores''s eyes narrowed.

    "The Night Hound," a viciousness beyond measure.

    -The Night Hound has crossed the line. Your sins against the imperial family and the Seven Houses have reached the skies...If you listen to the cries of countless people who have been unfairly harmed... ... Soon the fearsome spears, swords, arrows, and magic will be the maces of justice and bring you to the judgment seat... ...Having seen the Night Hound in full force on the night of the tragedy at Indulgentia Orphanage, I can say with confidence that... turning yourself in now and waiting to be hanged may be yourst chance for a peaceful end!

    Professor Banshee said.

    "I''m going to put this column in the newspaper instead of yours."

    "It''s a shoddy piece of writing, with no evidence, no objectivity, no reasoning, just an appeal to emotion. ...It''s vague in wording and overly emotional."

    Dolores said in a rare use of strongnguage.

    These were probably the worst words she could muster.

    But Professor Banshee shook his head, a wry smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.

    "I don''t think it was very well written, either. But it''s properly condemning, properly appealing, and properly agitating, so it''s the most appropriate thing to say at this time. And it''s an eye-witness report, so it has some credibility."

    "...."

    "Anyway, with that out of the way, the midterm practical ising up soon, so do your best, and remember, you''re supposed to be studying, right?"

    Professor Banshee rose from his seat and strode past Dolores, out of the room.

    Dolores bit her lip.

    The disaster at House Indulgentia the other day was enough to make her furious, especially after spending the night with the Night Hound.

    ''The Night Hound isn''t bad, it''s the Quovadis, and the demon that lurked within!''

    How many such demons are there in the world?

    How hard a fight has the Night Hound had to fight so far, and how much more will it have to fight?

    ''You can''t help it, but you try to hinder and suppress it....''

    But there is no way to expose the demon, its coborators, and those who are unknowingly being used all at once.

    Even if there were, it would take too long.

    The Night Hound I met once told me that time was running out.

    The frustrating conversation I had with Professor Banshee today made sense all at once.

    Why he''d be a vignte, why he''d risked his life to kill demons one by one.

    "I can''t do this, I have to help him."

    No matter how much you write in favor of the Night Hound, it doesn''t really help.

    It was time to take up the sword, not the pen, to help him now that he hade down from the top to the bottom.

    "I''d rather find the Night Hound on my own. I must see his face and know his name, so I can help him."

    Saint Dolores was determined. She would go to meet the Night Hound herself.

    To do so, she needed to gather as much information as she could.

    As much information as possible about the Night Hound''s identity.

    "...."

    Dolores'' gaze fell to the paper on the desk.

    It was the column that Professor Banshee had chosen in ce of hers.

    An article full of criticism that harshly condemns the night hounds.

    Dolores'' brow furrowed as she read it.

    It was an ugly, low-ss article, but one phrase caught her eye.

    ''The Night Hounds, a viciousness beyond measure.''

    -The Night Hound has crossed the line. Your sins against the imperial family and the Seven Houses have reached the skies... If you listen to the cries of countless people who have been unfairly harmed... ... Soon the fearsome spears, swords, arrows, and magic will be the maces of justice and bring you to the judgment seat... .... Having witnessed with my own eyes the full force of the Hounds of the Night on the night of the tragedy at the Indulgentia Orphanage, I can say with confidence... that turning yourself in now and waiting to be hanged may be yourst chance for a peaceful end!

    "You mean you saw it with your own eyes?"

    For context, when the writer of this column saw the Night Hound, it was clearly right after all the disaster had ended.

    That means he saw the Night Hound more recently than Dolores.

    ''Perhaps I have seen the face behind the mask of the Night Hound.''

    Dolores''s mind raced.

    If this column were to be published in the newspaper, there would probably be a flood of reporters trying to interview the author.

    Luckily, Professor Banshee had anonymized the column''s authors to prevent this, and Dolores was able to identify the contributors to the column, which had not yet been published in the newspaper.

    ''It''s an abuse of power, but it''s necessary!''

    It was necessary for the sake of justice.

    Dolores turned the column over and found the name of the person who wrote it.

    Suddenly, she recognized a familiar name.

 Chapter 171: The Anti-Columnist (2)

    <h4>Chapter 171: The Anti-Columnist (2)</h4>

    [Exclusive] Evil beyond measure, ''Night Hound'' / Views: 3,872

    -The Hound of the Night has crossed the line. The crimes against the imperial family and the Seven Houses have reached the heavens... Turning yourself in right now and waiting to be hanged may be yourst chance for a peaceful end!

    ?(Hot ss 1st year student): The country is going well....

    ??(Cold ss 1st year student): ?? I think we need to arrest the night hound quickly? What is the imperial family doing?

    ??(Cold ss 2nd year student): How busy must you be in this time? What is the imperial family? Is it your friend''s house? These days, things are getting out of hand.

    ??(Hot ss 4th year student): Both,, my,, ssmates,,, hate,, the,, night,, hound,, this,,!

    ??(Cold ss 4th year student): That''s right~~^^*

    ??(Hot ss 1st year student): Ugh, thement box smells like an old man;;;

    ??(Cold ss 3rd year student): Good article,, spreads~~^^ always~~happy~~?

    ??(Hot ss 1st year student): By the way, who wrote this column, did you see the night hound yourself?

    .

    .

    Vikir was a little surprised when he saw the newspaper this morning.

    ''I can''t believe they actually published that column.''

    Vikir was a little surprised to see the column in the paper this morning.

    I was surprised that it got a lot of views andments.

    ''...The fear of the night hound is spreading, isn''t it?''

    I''ve heard that in the Imperial Capital these days, many parents say, "If you keep crying, the Night Hound will bite you!" when soothing their crying children.

    Apparently, he''s established himself as a viin who terrorizes the empire.

    ''I''ll have to be more careful when I go demon hunting in the future.''

    It would be troublesome to run into the Imperial Knights while wandering outside the Academy.

    Vikir was thinking about his future ns.

    "Vikir."

    A cold voice called out.

    Vikir looks up, and Professor Morg Banshee''s dark-circled gaze follows him.

    "Did you close your eyes again today, lost in thought, and not just focus?"

    "Yes. Yes."

    "Still brazen, I see. I''ll have to see if you have what it takes."

    Professor Banshee, as always, did not like Vikir.

    So he threw in a few petty offenses, like giving him a pun question that he purposely twisted so that he couldn''t solve it, or a super-difficult question that was beyond the grasp of an undergraduate.

    "The Imperial Army has been gued by a massive outbreak of super-sized pinworms during the rainy season on the Western Front. Tell me how to deal with the smaller ones, which are less than a meter long, and therger ones, which are more than 10 meters long."

    "Travelers are being attacked by goblins. Goblins are small, weak creatures, but their swarming behavior makes them a threat to those without ess to mana. Discuss a realistic n to prevent travelers from being attacked by goblins at the gates of the Imperial Capital."

    The monster that currently causes the most damage to the knights and mages guarding the hignd fortress is the wyvern, but it is also quite true that it is the opposite of impossible to say that it is not.What do you think?"

    ...The problem is that Vikir has never been wrong about such things.

    "Smaller species, less than a meter long, can be mortally wounded by a sprinkling of salt, sugar, or carbonic acid, whilerger ones can be easily repelled by shooting copper arrows."

    "Goblins have a sensitive sense of smell and are weak to bad smells. If a ginkgo tree nted as a street tree drops fruit, rather than throwing it away, it would be a good idea to collect it and provide a bag each to travelers leaving the Imperial Capital. If you throw ginkgo nuts at a goblin, most of them will lose their will to fight and run away due to the bad smell."

    "Yes."

    Vikir answered, always nonchnt in the face of Professor Banshee''s aggressive barrage of questions.

    There were two reasons for this. The first was that Professor Banshee''s major sses were always rted to actual monster strategy. This was Vikir''s specialty for the past several decades, so he couldn''t be wrong.

    Therefore, it is possible that he coulde up with groundbreaking strategies that wouldplement or even rece decades of outdated research.

    The second was Prof. Banshee''s questioning style.

    While Vikir''s attention-seeking personality would allow him to get away with whatever he wanted, Professor Banshee would deduct the entire department''s attitude points for students who failed to answer his questions or got them wrong.

    In other words, since Vikir was targeted by Professor Banshee, he had to keep fending off his attacks for the sake of the attitude score of the entire Cold ss.

    Vikir decided that solving the problem well and earning extra points toward his overall attitude score would make him less noticeable to other students, because people remember grudges long and forget favors quickly.

    This is because people remember the punishment they receive from others for a long time, but the reward they receive from others is quickly forgotten.

    Meanwhile.

    "...."

    Prof. Banshee couldn''t help but feel angry that his questioning attack had been cut short.

    Vikir''s answers were the sort of thing that only a war veteran who had spent decades on the battlefield could give, so he couldn''t be too quick to point them out.

    How could a mere 18-year-old freshman know things that even he, a professor at the academy, could only theoretically understand from his desk in theb?

    And not just like that.

    Professor Banshee couldn''t help but frown even more as some of the answers Vikir had just given included strategies and theories that had never been discovered before.

    ''Keu... ... It was like that in the past during the Venompion incident.''

    A giant scorpion-like demon living in the desert.

    Who knew it had a second, hidden stinger.

    Professor Banshee had once sent a sample of the Venompion to the Royal Institute of Magical Creatures to determine whether or not Vikir''s ims were true, and it had all turned out to be true.

    He waved off the flood of interview requests.

    ''It wasn''t my research, it was my student''s research. Phew!''

    Ever since then, Prof. Banshee has been watching Vikir with interest.

    In the end, Professor Banshee had no choice but to recognize Vikir''s intelligence.

    "You''re so good, you''re so good, you know enough theory that you could stand here and teach your ssmates, your seniors, ... maybe even me."

    "Not quite."

    Professor Banshee''s expression twists once more at Vikir''s short answer.

    Finally, he growled.

    "I hope you go to graduate school someday, and if you do, you''lle under my wing...."

    For the first time, Vikir felt a chill at those words.

    The Academy''s graduate school had a reputation for being insanely rigorous.

    There is even a rumor that prisoners of war from other countries who lost the war and became ves feel sorry for the academy''s graduate students.

    The first-year students, however, don''t know that yet, and their eyes widen as they look back at Vikir.

    Not only was he recognized for his theory by Professor Banshee, but he was even rmended to go to graduate school!

    That was harder than getting a camel to go through the eye of a needle.

    "...."

    Sinir, the head of the Hot ss, who had been sitting in the front row, was now staring at Vikir openly, not even hiding.

    His eyes glowed with curiosity.

    * * *

    After ss.

    Vikir joined the crowd of students grabbing their backpacks and heading to their next ss or dorm.

    But there was one person who stood in his way.

    Professor Morg Banshee, the professor of Practical Monster Strategy.

    "Vikir."

    He called out to Vikir in a hard voice, with just the slightest hint of displeasure in his tone.

    When Vikir turned his head, he strode over and spoke with a gnarled, twisted mouth.

    "Yourst column, I mean. In the newspaper."

    Professor Banshee is an advisor to the newspaper.

    He was the one who had published Vikir''smentary on The Night Hound in the paper.

    Prof. Banshee asked, genuinely curious.

    "Did you really see the Night Hound yourself during your volunteer work?"

    "It''s exactly as I told youst time. I was walking down the hallway at night, and I just happened to catch a glimpse, a quick glimpse."

    "So you really don''t know its face or voice or anything like that?" ...

    "Yes."

    "I see, then."

    Professor Banshee frowned and quietly muttered, ''It''s because things like flies keep sticking to me.''

    Then he looked at Vikir and continued.

    "If any of the outside reporters are bothering you with requests for interviews, tell them to tell me. I have a duty to protect the students of the Academy''s newspaper."

    "Yes."

    Professor Banshee nodded at Vikir''s short answer.

    "...Ah, wait."

    Just as he was about to turn away, Professor Banshee turned his head as if he''d just remembered something.

    "Well, if you were doingmunity service, that would have been during sleeping hours and curfew, so why were you walking down the hallway at night, and that''s not in the direction of the restrooms or water dispensers."

    "I''m sorry."

    "... sorry, is that it?"

    "Yes."

    Vikir replied, still keeping it short.

    Professor Banshee frowned.

    " ...Well, I do know that it''s customary for boys and girls to get together for a drinking party on thest day of service."

    "Is that so?"

    "Yes. But it doesn''t oblige me to condone such things, does it?"

    "I see."

    Professor Banshee held up the ledger with a stern gesture and deducted one point from Vikir''s attitude score.

    " ...From now on, do not roam at night."

    No more roaming around at night for the Night Hound.

    Vikir nodded half-heartedly, and Professor Banshee then snorted happily and turned and went on his way.

    Only then did the friends who had been watching from afar approach.

    Piggy was the first to approach.

    "Vikir, did you just lose an attitude point? Why?"

    "For breaking the night curfew on thest day of volunteering."

    "Ugh! You''re crazy! Did you really tell me that? You''re lying! If you get another demerit here, you''ll have to domunity service again, but this time it''ll be on campus...."

    Nowadays, the academy''s principal has decided not to send students tomunity service because of the current situation.

    Instead, they would be put in the unfortunate position of having to do in-school service during the golden festival after the midterms.

    That''s what Piggy was feeling right now.

    Tudor and Sancho came up behind him.

    "Hey, Vikir, what did Professor Banshee say?"

    "At least there would have been an argument."

    They were on the same newspaper staff as Vikir, and they already knew that the column was written by Vikir.

    Tudor opened his mouth.

    "Hey, Vikir. Did you really see the Night Hound that time?"

    "Yes."

    "Dude, why didn''t you tell me about it? You were so serious the whole way back that day."

    Tudor stepped forward with a serious expression and patted Vikir on the shoulder.

    "You must have been terrified to meet that vile viin, and I was hoping it was because you kept falling behind on your way back to the Academy on yourst day of service, and you peed yourself because you were thinking too much."

    "If that happens in the future, you shoulde to us with your problems."

    Sancho nodded as he stood next to Vikir.

    Meanwhile, his friends asked Vikir.

    They wanted to know what the Night Hound looked like and how terrifying it was.

    Vikir gave a quick answer.

    "It''s very tall and well-built. His face is masked and his entire body is covered in a ck cloak. His voice was hoarse. It was hard to hear because he was so far away...."

    At that, Tudor, Sancho, and Piggy brushed away the goosebumps on their arms.

    "Wow, you must have seen it in real life, that must have been really scary!"

    "I don''t think I''d have been able to move from the spot, you''ve got a lot of nerve."

    "The Night Hound is supposed to be at least a Graduator, so how strong is it? Does it outrank the professors, or is it not that strong?"

    The day pups were still fluffing up their fur as they howled at each other that they were going to catch the Night Hound.

    Vikir watched the scene with a certain amount of fondness.

    Just then.

    "Look who''s here, aren''t you the idiots from Cold ss?"

    Another fluffy one-day puppy steps in front of Vikir.

    A handsome man, with a cold face beneath his jet-ck hair.

    He wears a small snake-like badge on his chest patch.

    Tudor, Sancho, and Piggy stiffen slightly at the sight of his face.

    "...Grenouille."

    Grenouille Des Leviathans.

    A member of House Leviathan, one of the seven most powerful families in the Empire.

    It was the appearance of the first-year vice head of the Hot ss and an extremely arrogant first-year student.

 Chapter 172: The Anti-Columnist (3)

    <h4>Chapter 172: The Anti-Columnist (3)</h4>

    "Who is this, a bunch of fools from Cold ss?"

    Grenouille Des Leviathans.

    He is a skinny, tall, and somewhat hate male student of the Cold ss.

    Hees from the extremely powerful House Leviathan, one of the Seven Great Houses of the Empire, and was also the runner-up student at this year''s Hot ss.

    He looked at Tudor and sneered.

    "What are you so afraid of? You''re so shaky, I can feel the vibrations all the way up here."

    "You''re crazy."

    Tudor cut through Grenouille''s sarcasm with familiarity.

    But Grenouille didn''t stop.

    "Hoo-hoo-hoo. I overheard you discussing the Night Hound. If you''re so cowardly, how can you im to belong to the prestigious Colosseo Academy? You''re pathetic."

    "Well, he''s seen the Night Hound himself."

    Tudor said, pointing to Vikir.

    Grenouille smiled wryly.

    "His name is Vekir, and he''s seen the Night Hound with his own eyes?"

    "His name is Vikir."

    "Are you showing off your memory by remembering the name of a lowlymoner?"

    Grenouille looked at Vikir with a mixture of interest and disdain.

    Then she shrugged and said.

    "Whatever. Don''t tremble too much at the Night Hound, my weak and pitifulrades. It''s said that the ipetent are cowardly, but it''s still ugly to look at. If the Night Hound were to appear at the Academy, I will personallye to your aid and protect you, even you insignificant brats."

    "What a fucking concept. Dude, we were saying the same thing until we saw the tragedy with our own eyes, but ording to the newspaper reports, the Night Hound is at least an advanced Graduator. What makes you think you can handle a Graduator?"

    "Whoa, whoa, whoa �C you believe those articles straight out of the paper, you naive bastards. Rumors are inted. I don''t think a coward who hides behind a mask would be in such lofty heights. ...And!"

    Having finished speaking, Grenouille stirred his palm and pped hispanions behind him.

    At that moment.

    ...Push!

    A pale ck mist began to envelop Grenouille''s body.

    It was the paralyzing poison.

    The poison mixed with mana and sprayed out like a mist of water, causing Tudor, Sancho, and Piggy to jump back in fright.

    "Grenouille, you lunatic! Are you trying to show off your skills in school?"

    "It''s just a little tease, just a little demonstration of my mighty skills."

    In reality, Grenouille''s poison, and the amount of it, was nothing to sneeze at.

    A paralyzing poison that would leave you tingling and stiff for a few minutes if it touched you.

    But the image of the Leviathan, an ultra-poisonous cancerous creature with a mastery of all kinds of poisons, makes everyone shrink back in horror.

    ...Only one. Except Vikir.

    "...?"

    At first, Vikir takes a step back, too.

    What?

    [Whoops-]

    There was a being that sucked in the ck mist spraying at Vikir.

    The cub dangling like a watch from his left wrist saw the poisonous mist that Grenouille had sprayed and immediately began to breathe it in.

    ...Horrorock!

    The poisonous fog disappeared in the blink of an eye, with no sense of being sucked in.

    It was like a food fighter inhaling a chopstickful of ramen.

    [kkeoeog �C haeg �C haeg -]

    The cub devoured the weak paralyzing poison, letting out a small burp.

    Then it sticks its tongue out again and hacks like it always does.

    Thank goodness, Vikir thought, that he''d gotten some food for the cub this time.

    ''Grenouille? That means he''s from House Leviathan, so he must have a lot of poison.''

    Vikir began to watch Grenouille carefully.

    Meanwhile.

    Tudor, Sancho, and Piggy just stared, unable toprehend what had just happened.

    "What happened? Where''s the poison Grenouille just sprayed?"

    "It just suddenly disappeared."

    "Ew, I''m so scared. Was it a fake?"

    Even Grenouille was looking around a bit surprised.

    "Huh? What happened, where did my poison go?"

    "You sprinkled it, why are you surprised, aren''t you a fool?"

    Tudor sarcastically asks, and Grenouille gulps, thenes to his senses.

    Grenouille retorted, stumbling slightly.

    "You have just done this body a favor deeper than the abyss. I didn''t want to waste my poison on a bunch of heartless fools with muscles up to your brains."

    Then, Grenouille''s cold, dark gaze turned to Vikir and Piggy.

    "Apparently, you''re a bunch of ragtagmoners who don''t look like they''re even in the lower ranks of Expert. I can see the level of Cold ss you''re working for, and it''s so boring it makes me want to die."

    Currently, the Academy''s freshman ss averages between an Expert Lower Intermediate and an Expert Upper Intermediate, and the graduating ss averages an Expert Upper Intermediate.

    Despite being only 18 years old, two years younger than their ssmates, Tudor, who was already at the advanced level of Expert, and Sancho, who was at the Intermediate level of Expert, were exceptional geniuses.

    Piggy was in the Lower Expert ss, and while he was quite talented outside of the academy, he was below average inside of it.

    Then Tudor, the leader of the pack, stepped forward.

    "Don''t insult my friends, Grenouille."

    "Hoo-hoo, you can tell a man''s level by the friends he keeps. I can tell your level by the friends you hang out with."

    Grenouille didn''t back off despite Tudor''s threats.

    Behind him, Grenouille could hear his colleagues, the elite of the Hot ss, giggling.

    "Don''t you insult my academy with your lowly, inferior skills. Well, this midterm examination will prove it all."

    "The midterm practical is just the first test you''ll face, it''s not meant to prove anything. It''s just a record of how you''re doing so that you can improve."

    "Shut up, midterms are like murder to me. Take it seriously, so I can have the satisfaction of crushing you as you flounder with your shoddy, shallow talent."

    Then.

    "Hyung- what are you doing there?"

    A voice called out to Vikir as he approached.

    Sinir.

    Amoner, but the head of the Hot ss, she wasing this way.

    As soon as she reached Vikir, Sinir smiled and asked.

    "Did you finish that book you borrowed from the library the other day?"

    "You mean Raising Spiders?"

    "Yeah. I''ve been reading some books about it. Want to discuss itter?"

    "No thanks."

    "Why? Weren''t you studying them to useter in the practical monster strategy ss?"

    "No."

    "Then why are you studying ahead of time? Let me know so I can ace the written exam."

    Sinir''s eyes were filled with sincere eagerness and curiosity as she looked at Vikir.

    Seeing this, Grenouille''s expression twisted into aplex.

    "Tsk, the only option for these insignificantmoner bastards is ''solidarity''. These pathetic people, whose only way to survive is to tangle with each other in crude grassroots... ... ."

    He stopped talking and called out to Sinir.

    "hey! Sin, sin, sin... ... ire! You''re disgraceful about Hot ss and doing it all by yourself! Don''t do that,e here! If it''s handwritten, I''d rather tell you! Not as a favor to you by any means, but as a way of protecting the image of the Hot ss, because even though it''s only temporary, you''re still the head of the Hot ss, and if you hang out with the Cold ss bastards, it''ll make the Hot ss look bad...!"

    But Sinir just blinks wide-eyed and shakes his head.

    "Who are you?"

    "What, you don''t know me, you ignorant Sinir! I am Grenouille Des Leviathans, the current Vice-Head of the Hot ss! The third son of House Leviathan, vice-head of the Academy''s Hot ss, and future head of the student council! How can you not recognize me, a highly-aplished nobleman, and a brilliant student, while remembering the name of that lowlymoner, Vikir or Vekir? If you''re just pretending not to remember my name for fear of losing your position, I''d tell you to stop futilely resisting youring fate!"

    Then Sinir said hesitantly, with a look of great embarrassment on her face.

    "I, I don''t know..."

    "...."

    "I''m sorry, I''ll try to remember in the future, Kurukuru-ssi."

    Then Grenouille looked shocked once again.

    "...I can''t believe it. How do you not know me?"

    "Calm down, Grenouille. That girl is ying mind games on purpose."

    "That''s right, how could she not recognize you. This is what lowlymoners are...."

    Grenouille''s shoulders look poisonously slumped as hispanions chuckle.

    * * *

    Meanwhile.

    Out in the hallway, Vikir''s group emerged near the main staircase.

    "See ya then, bro."

    Sinir waves to Vikir, then heads for the library.

    When it was just the four of them again, Tudor looked irritated.

    "Ugh, Grenouille, that arrogant bastard. I''m going to kick your ass at midterms."

    "You''re right. Too bad they don''t have a cadet-by-cadet dueling course for the first-year exams."

    Sancho, who usually didn''t join in the badmouthing of others, unusually agreed.

    Just then, Piggy poked Vikir in the side.

    "Vikir, what happened?"

    "What."

    "Sinir."

    "What."

    "Sinir."

    "I mean, what."

    Vikir''s questioning look brought question marks to the heads of Tudor, Sancho, and Piggy, who were watching.

    "You two were up to something?"

    "Either that, or she''s not interested in anyone else''s business, so why would she be so hard on you."

    "Exactly. I could see the honey dripping from the way she looked at you earlier."

    But when his friends raised their suspicions, Vikir was adamant.

    "There is no such thing."

    His friends looked a little sour.

    When Vikir denied the rumors of a romantic rtionship or a rtionship, the topic turned again to the story of the night hound.

    It''s a hot topic that''s been swirling around the Imperial Capital these days, and my friends seem to be just as interested.

    "The Night Hound is really scary, though."

    "If he''s a Graduator, he could easily join the Knights Order, so why is he a viin?"

    "There''s got to be a story, or he''s just a real exhaust homicidal maniac."

    Tudor, Sancho, and Piggy chat for a while.

    Just then, Tudor tapped Vikir on the arm and said yfully.

    "Hey, Vikir, aren''t you the Night Hound?"

    "...."

    Vikir merely wiggles his eyebrows.

    "Why would you think that?"

    Tudorughed at Vikir''s serious question and said without thinking.

    "Well, you were the only one who fell backwards on the way back to the dorm, so you''re the only one without an alibi."

    "...."

    "Well. I mean, I did say that we all went back to our rooms and fell asleep when the guards asked for a statement... but weren''t you actually in theundry room at the time, washing your pants? Hahaha-"

    "...."

    "Huh? Meh, I''m sorry. I was just kidding, I didn''t think you needed to be so embarrassed... I didn''t realize you still cared about that, sorry."

    Tudorughed and then apologized for wanting to get sick.

    Vikir smiled back.

    Only then did Tudorugh again.

    "Oh,e on, man, why are you so red, you''re scaring me! You''re even scarier because you''re so expressionless!"

    "Tudor. You were bad. I''m sure the memory of that still scars Vikir."

    "Right."

    Sancho and Piggy reprimanded Tudor as well, and Tudor bowed his head to Vikir and apologized.

    It is difficult for a man who is the eldest son of the high-ranking Don Quixote family to be this wless.

    Vikirughed dryly, remembering the fairness, justice, and childlike innocence of Tudor before his regression.

    But he had to make sure he had an excuse.

    "I''m not the Night Hound, he''s a Graduator-level monster, and I''m an inferior who can barely pass for an Expert."

    "No, don''t be ridiculous, I''m just kidding...."

    Sancho and Tudor nodded in agreement.

    "That''s right. There''s no way Vikir would be such a vicious viin."

    "That''s right, Vikir, let''s improve our skills and take down such a viin ourselves!"

    Finally, Vikir nodded in agreement.

    "...Yes. Viins like the Night Hound will be punished one day."

    It was a bone to pick with himself.

    Just then.

    "Euhum-Euhum!"

    As soon as Vikir finished speaking, a loud coughing sound was heard from the stairs just above.

    ...?

    Everyone looked up in surprise.

    There was a familiar face staring back at them.

    Student Council President of Colosseo Academy, head of the newspaper club, Ryukeion, and a member of the Faithful Quovadis.

    It was Dolores.

 Chapter 173: The Anti-Columnist (4)

    <h4>Chapter 173: The Anti-Columnist (4)</h4>

    Dolores.

    She read the article in the newspaper, and once again Vikir was in her mind.

    The Night Hound crossed the line.

    -The Night Hound has crossed the line. Your crimes against the imperial family and the Seven Houses have reached the skies... and your only chance for a peaceful end is to turn yourself in now and be hanged by the neck!

    To be honest, it didn''t feel good to see the harsh criticism being thrown at the night hounds.

    And that bad feeling was made worse when I realized that Vikir, who had taken the time toe and see me, was once again criticizing the Night Hound.

    "A viin like the Night Hound will be punished one day."

    Dolores felt a stabbing pain in her chest as she listened to Vikir and the others.

    It was even more sad and miserable than when she heard the insults herself.

    ''...You''re insulting him because you don''t know what you''re talking about.''

    Ordinary people cursing a hero, but I know I can''t me them.

    Like the great prophet Rune, who was crowned with thorns and carried on a stake by the citizens of long ago, the Night Hound also makes this noble sacrifice even at the risk of bing the target of everyone''s misunderstanding and hostility.

    ''It was said that true heroes do not force blood on the public.''

    Dolores bit her lip tightly.

    Although she could use this opportunity to berate her juniors and proim the innocence of the Night Hound, ... that would not be what he wanted.

    ''It''s okay, not everyone knows the sacrifice of the Night Hound, just me. I just need to be the only one who knows and remembers his sacrifice.''

    A gifted genius, a prophet the world doesn''t understand.

    Dolores felt something akin to a sense of duty at the realization that only she could understand him.

    The ordinary citizen. As the unknowing public disliked, hated, feared, and abhorred the Night Hound.

    Dolores'' feelings for the Night Hounds have evolved into affection, respect, longing, and a heartbreaking emotion that even she can''t quite define.

    These unexined feelings grew more and more intense with each passing day, until she was unable to sleep at night.

    These days, every day is unfamiliar with emotions she have felt for the first time in her life.

    "...."

    Dolores let go of the railing and turned around.

    She''de here to see Vikir, but she couldn''t speak to him now because the look on his face would make her angry.

    And she''s not even in a position to be angry.

    It was not a good time for conversation, so she turned her back on him.

    * * *

    Back in her dorm room, Dolores took a shower and sat down at her desk.

    ''Still, Vikir, I have to talk to him.''

    Vikir was the only one of the Academy''s students who had seen the Night Hound with his own eyes.

    So it was absolutely necessary to hear what he saw that day.

    And then another.

    " ...I also need to apologize for the pissing incident."

    Vikir is Dolores''s saving grace.

    Dolores had made a drunken mistake, and Vikir had taken on the stigma of peeing on her behalf.

    It must have been hard for him to say that he was the one who peed in front of everyone.

    Although it''s unclear what Vikir was thinking when he sacrificed himself in that situation, he hasn''t asked for anything in return since, so we can only assume it was purely out of the goodness of his heart.

    "...Haah, as long as you don''t insult Night Hound, you''re a really good junior."

    Dolores had mixed feelings about Vikir.

    At first, he was an arrogant junior that I wasn''t interested in at all, or even hated.

    I had thought he was a bit of an oddball when he sang a military song at the freshman talent show and made the old professors cry, but... after that, his image gradually deteriorated due to his frequent tardiness and detentions.

    He was warned several times for his seemingly casual approach to rules, such as falling asleep in ss and wandering into prohibited areas.

    <Vikir-Life Attitude Score (Demerit Factor)

    -1 point for using the emergency exit on the 3rd floor of the dormitory building

    -1 point for entering the 4th grade private area of the performance hall

    -1 point for using the central staircase on the 1st floor of the blind readingb building

    -1 point for entering the control area of ??the experimental monster breeding facility

    -1 point for using the central staircase on the 6th floor of the Faculty Research Center

    -1 point for using the central staircase on the 3rd floor of the Hotb.

    -1 point for entering the fitness center after hours

    -1 point for entering the restricted area next to the cafeteria food warehouse.

    .

    .

    Looking back at Vikir''s demerit list, I was stunned.

    How could he have racked up such numbers as soon as he started school?

    It was unthinkable to Dolores, who had always been a regr and well-behaved girl.

    ''Especially in the case of the monster breeding farm control area, the penalty point was 3 points... ... .''

    Did you say that your arms are bent inward?

    Since he was a junior in the club, Dolores overlooked it to a certain extent and adjusted the demerit to one point.

    However, as the penalty points continued even after that, Vikir''s image waspletely branded as a delinquent student.

    ... But.

    ''He did too much volunteer work to bebeled a delinquent.''

    During his volunteer work at the orphanage, Vikir worked silently and diligently in the restrooms, cafeteria, plumbing room,undry room, yroom, and yground.

    The work was hard, tiring, and unnoticed.

    He was the odd one out, the one who did the work of five or six people by himself when the rest of the students at the academy, who had grown up so fine and unused to hard work, couldn''t do a single one, and yet he didn''t show any signs of it and didn''t ask for any recognition.

    At thest minute, he even threw himself down to retrieve a child''s toy that had fallen into a dirty pit.

    The way he returned the ball to the children even though it was dripping with filth was the epitome of selflessness.

    Who else would be so willing to jump into a pool of filth for the sake of others?

    And this act of abandoning oneself for the sake of others was not a one-time urrence.

    ''A man can drink and make mistakes.''

    That''s what Vikir said when he took the fall for the peeing Dolores.

    Vikir''s words must have been directed at Dolores, at her.

    Dolores'' face flushes red again as she recalls the moment.

    "No matter how much I tried to exin after that, it didn''t work."

    Dolores says she''s said several times that she was the one who peed, but everyoneughed it off as impossible.

    Instead, they praised him for making the sacrifice on Vikir''s behalf.

    After that, Vikir''s image at school got worse and worse, and Dolores'' image got better and better, and Dolores felt so bad about it.

    Hah-

    Dolores sighed deeply.

    I should apologize and thank Vikir for taking such good care of the children at the orphanage, and for bearing the nickname ''pisser'' for me.

    But aside from that, she couldn''t help but feel angry every time Vikir insulted the Night Hound.

    Because the Night Hound is one of the most noble and sublime beings she''s ever known.

    "Phew... ... But that doesn''t mean you can''t defend the Night Hound in front of someone who doesn''t know anything. Maybe this is a good thing."

    Dolores ced her hand on her forehead.

    She thought for a moment, then came to a conclusion.

    Regardless of the Night Hound, we must apologize and thank Vikir.

    She should also ask for information about the Night Hounds.

    "Okay. Let''s distinguish between public and private matters. Just apologize for what you need to apologize for and be thankful for what you need to be thankful for."

    Dolores left the dormitory in search of Vikir.

    "You can''t apologize and thank at the same time. Besides, I have to ask for information about the Night Hound, Vikir... What does he need?"

    Dolores felt sorry for herself in more ways than one.

    She had never been in debt to anyone in her life, and this was very awkward.

    Then. A familiar face appeared in front of her.

    A chubby body and a cute face.

    It was a junior named Piggy, who was always with Vikir.

    "Hey, Piggy, do you know where Vikir is now?"

    "Old? Aah! Hello, Ms. President! Vikir is probably practicing for the practical evaluation in the performance hall right now! What are you doing...?"

    "Uh, just. I thought I''d take care of the juniors in the club before the exam. You should take this."

    It was a set of genealogical notes Dolores had written in her freshman year about the written test.

    Piggy took it and looked thrilled.

    "I''ll take it with Vikir, thank you!"

    "Uh, no, you can give them to Vikir separately. I have a lot of copies."

    "Oh, right, then, just past this forest path and over the hill, there''s a practice range where Vikir practices!"

    That''s where the archery ss was meeting, and at this time of day, the students would be free to practice.

    ''Vikir used a bow.''

    Dolores nodded and headed for the practice field.

    She thought hard about what she would say to Vikir first.

 Chapter 174: The 99 Hits With 100 Shots (1)

    <h4>Chapter 174: The 99 Hits With 100 Shots (1)</h4>

    A vast training ground.

    The sound of arrows hitting the bull''s-eye in the distance is loud.

    ...Puck! ...Puck! ...Puck!

    Students from the Collosseo Academy who use bows gather here to practice.

    It was mainly used by the archery students of the Cold ss, and on rare asions, the ranged magic students of the Hot ss, who had unusually long ranges.

    For the rest of the students, it was a ce they didn''t need toe to as much, because they only used bows in general education sses.

    Among the few students who came here, Bianca was one of the most aplished archers.

    She was also the head of the Cold ss and was very good at shooting a bow as she came from the Usher family, also known as the Divine Archer Family.

    ...Puck!

    Bianca''s arrow hit the bull''s-eye a hundred meters away without using a single handful of mana.

    A white circle, a ck circle, a blue circle, a red circle, a yellow circle.

    All of Bianca''s arrows were densely packed into that yellow circle.

    "Wow, did you see that? Another 10."

    "This is awesome. She''s in a different league."

    "That''s enough to get a perfect score on her midterm."

    " ... She''s like a hunting goddess."

    The other students around her are in awe of this almost godlike archery skill.

    But.

    ''There are two 9 points mixed up. The wind is not good today and my conditions are not good... ... .''

    In fact, Bianca herself was not satisfied, even though she had managed to put all her arrows in the smallest circle.

    A perfectionist, she was unhappy that she couldn''t get all her arrows into the center, the smallest yellow circle.

    Normally, she might have been satisfied with the fact that out of the ten arrows she had just shot, she had scored 8 out of 10 and 2 out of 9, giving her a score of 98 out of 100.

    But.

    "...I don''t like it."

    Her almost paranoid score obsession was getting worse by the day.

    Poof!

    It was a dull noiseing from the firing line next to her.

    ...Puff, puff, puff!

    One after another, without a pause.

    One arrow would fly and hit the bull''s-eye, and before the sound could die down, the next arrow would fly right next to it and hit the bull''s-eye.

    This happened ten times in a row.

    10 out of 10 arrows, 10 arrows worth 100 points.

    "...Oh, ten arrows."

    Bianca hung up her bow in protest and frowned.

    She nced over and saw the man standing in the nextne.

    He had shaggy bangs that covered nearly half his face, fair skin, and in clothes.

    Slightly shorter and skinnier than the average 18 year old boy.

    Vikir. ssmate of Usher Bianca''s in the same Cold ss B section.

    Always expressionless, today he stood in the lodge with a practice bow and arrow.

    Kiririk.

    Vikir feeds an arrow into the bow.

    The target is a hundred meters away.

    A yellow circle with a diameter of 12.2 centimeters. It sits 1.3 meters off the ground and looks like a needle''s eye.

    Ting-.

    Vikir released the arrow.

    Pow!

    He scores 10 points, the highest score a single arrow can achieve.

    The students practicing arrows around him stopped what they were doing and gathered around to watch Vikir''s archery skills.

    "Wow, he''s a really good archer."

    "Do you see that over there?"

    "I just see a yellow dot...."

    "Isn''t he Vikir? he''s got the best handwriting."

    "Oh, is that the handsome kid? I can''t see him through his bangs."

    "Oh, that''s the archer. He''s got a low mana reserve for some reason."

    "Well, archers don''t mind having a little less mana."

    Meanwhile, Bianca, who was shooting a bow in the nextne, was in a strange situation.

    Usher Bianca of the Divine Archers is an honor student with a reputation for archery prowess within the Academy.

    This means that when she stands on the stage, the eyes of the crowd must be directed in her direction.

    But she doesn''t like the idea of people watching her shoot.

    She says it makes her feel like a clown.

    ...But what about now?

    All eyes are not on her, but on Vikir next to her.

    It''s not that she''s disappointed in theck of attention, but it''s that the public seems to be implicitly judging Vikir''s skills as better than her own.

    "...."

    Bianca turned her head to steal a nce at Vikir''s archery stance.

    ...The conclusion was a mess.

    Vikir''s stance could not be called good, even if it were an empty word.

    Nocking, Grip, Hooking, Set up, Drawing, Anchor, Full Draw, Release, Fallow through ... Nothing was quite right.

    But.

    Ting-.

    As soon as Vikir released the cue.

    Pow!

    The arrow flies and hits the mark.

    ''How the hell does he shoot, I can''t even tell from watching.''

    Vikir''s posture is so rxed, it''s as if he has no structure or form.

    It looked like a bow wielded by a barbarian in the forest.

    ''Shooting like that usually results in blind arrows, so how on earth did that one hit the bullseye?''

    Bianca wrinkled her brow and red at Vikir.

    She too fiercely parried the shot.

    ...Puck!

    An arrow that hit the 10-point mark.

    Bianca was doing just as well, cing each shot in the center of the bull''s-eye.

    Except for one thing: Vikir''s arrow was a little different.

    ...puck! ...puck! ...puck!

    Puff-puff-puff-puff-puck!

    The speed of the shot was different.

    While Bianca fired one focused shot, Vikir was firing five or six in quick session.

    While their scores were trending in the same direction, the speed at which they were using up their arrows was making a huge difference.

    "iig! you think you''re fast!?''

    Bianca bit her lip.

    Contrary to her ims, Vikir was not only fast.

    His arrows were both fast and urate, and he went on a 10-shot streak.

    On the other hand, Bianca, who shot two 9-point shots due to poor concentration in the early part, was definitely 2 points behind Vikir.

    ''Don''t miss a single shot from now on!''

    A small difference in the first half of the match turns into a huge gap in the second half.

    This is amon urrence in the shooting trajectory.

    So Bianca was even more focused than she had been in practice, more so than ever.

    Finally, herst arrow from the demonstration hit the bull''s-eye.

    ...Puck!

    But it was an unfortunate result.

    Bianca''s thumb had slipped from her sweaty grip, and her arrow had lodged in the 9-point space.

    ''Damn it!''

    Bianca wanted to throw down her bow and run for the hills.

    But there are a lot of eyes watching, and you can''t lose your cool here.

    As calmly as possible.

    ''You can''t lower the honor of a Divine Archer!

    If the eldest daughter of the Usher family, known for their divine archery skills, were to be outssed by the base archery skills of amoner with no genealogy, it would certainly be aughing stock throughout the world.

    Kirik.

    Bianca tugged on her quiver, aware that Vikir in the nextne had stopped shooting at some point.

    All eyes are on the end of the dot, on a single shot.

    And then.

    Pfft.

    The arrow flies through severalyers of ovepping walls of atmosphere.

    It goes.

    ...Pow!

    It hits the center of the bull''s-eye, ten spaces away.

    Ouch.

    It snapped the first arrow in half.

    "That''s it!

    Bianca called out in triumph.

    141 10-point shots, 3 9-point shots.

    In addition, she had two shots at the fingernail-sized X10 target, splitting the first in half and hitting the second.

    In total, Bianca shot 144 arrows and scored 1437 out of 1440.

    This was an unusually good performance for Bianca, considering her scores usually hover between 1433 and 1435.

    The presence of her pacesetter andpetitor, Vikir, next to her, helped her maintain a high level of concentration in the second half.

    Meanwhile, onlookers were in awe.

    "This is amazing. She''s a goddess."

    "That''s right. The shot hits the center of the foot."

    " ...! By the way, Vikir is also amazing!"

    Everyone''s eyes are once again drawn to the sidene where Vikir is.

    When Bianca finished shooting her arrows, she too turned to look at Vikir.

    ''What is he doing?''

    Bianca tilted her head slightly.

    Vikir had shot all 143 arrows and was holding thest one for a long time.

    The pinch.

    The tension that sustains a shot cannot be ignored, no matter howrge and muscr the man is.

    Especially when you''re not spending mana.

    Yet despite this, Vikir stands motionless with his bow taut.

    This ispletely different from shooting arrows at a tremendous speed until now.

    "...Why, why don''t you shoot?"

    "I don''t know, man. Maybe he''s trying to concentrate."

    "What do you think he''s trying to do at the end?"

    "Isn''t 10 points the end anyway? There''s no higher score than that."

    "Yeah, I''ll just do what I''ve been doing and get a 10."

    "Wow, so if you get a 10 this time, you''ll get a 1440 out of 1440, which is awesome, I''ve never seen that before!"

    "Isn''t the Academy''s official highest score up to now 1,439 points? When you didn''t spend any mana on the 100 meter distance?"

    "That''s right. The current Lord of the Usher family set the official record when he was a student at the Academy, about 30 years ago."

    "Gosh, it''s a shame it''s an unofficial record. This could have been a historic record-breaking moment."

    The students who were watching also swallowed dryly.

    "...."

    Bianca from the next row did the same.

    The tension in my gut.

    And then.

    Poof!

    Vikir''s bow spat out an arrow from the tip of his quiver.

    The arrow flew to the bull''s-eye and hit the target with a thud.

    "...!"

    Everyone, including Bianca, had to open their eyes wide.

 Chapter 175: The 99 Hits With 100 Shots (2)

    <h4>Chapter 175: The 99 Hits With 100 Shots (2)</h4>

    In a tense atmosphere.

    With all eyes on them.

    Boom!

    Vikir''s bow released an arrow.

    It flew in a near-straight parabolic arc, and soon hit the target.

    ...Pow!

    The sound of it hitting is a little strange.

    Bianca narrowed her eyes in disbelief.

    "...6 points?"

    The words came out of her mouth in surprise.

    Bianca''s face flushed red as she realized that she had been thinking of Vikir the whole time.

    Luckily, she didn''t get caught, as everyone else in the crowd had a simr reaction.

    "Eh? What, did you miss?"

    "Well... 6 points is still a point...."

    "Oh, that''s too bad, you must have made a mistake!"

    "Aww, this could''ve been a record-breaker, but you screwed up at thest second."

    Everyone chattered in unison.

    Vikir quietlyys down his bow, seemingly not paying attention.

    There''s no need to retrieve the arrows; there will be someone to collect themter, when night falls.

    That''s it.

    Beep.

    Vikir''s record is disyed in real time on the mana board in front of me.

    143 10-point shots and one 6-point shot at the very end.

    This brings Vikir''s total to 144 arrows and his score to 1436 out of 1440.

    This was only one point less than Bianca''s score of 1437, which included 141 10-point shots and three 9-point shots.

    After winning by one point, Bianca was more dumbfounded than happy.

    ''What''s with the 6 at the end? He''s been shooting 10s the whole time, what happened at the end? Did he get distracted?''

    Honestly, even when I shot thest X10, I didn''t think I had a chance to win.

    Vikir''s momentum was just too much.

    But after such a hollow victory, it only raised my doubts.

    The crowd dispersed as easily as it had gathered.

    "Come on, it''s getting cold. Let''s go practice."

    "Still, that''s quite a feat for amoner."

    "But a record is hard to break."

    "Wasn''t he just lucky in the first ce? The bull''s-eye was a little closer."

    People who don''t know much about bows pick them up and go their separate ways.

    But.

    "...."

    Bianca waited patiently until Vikir was gone, and until all the curious onlookers were gone.

    Then, when all eyes were on her, she moved to the end of thene, where there was no one around.

    She could see the bull''s-eye targets were littered with numerous arrows. They were supposed to be picked up by the staff after curfew every night.

    Bianca looked at Vikir''s bullseye and stuck her tongue out.

    " ...I was just wondering how he got into the Academy with such a small mana pool."

    They say a slug can roll, and Vikir certainly wasn''t a scribe.

    However, Bianca did not harbor the jealousy or envy typical of nobles over the fact that people frommoners achieved as much sess as a noble.

    It only fuels her pride andpetitive spirit.

    ''Hey, when I saw you take off your clothes after Naphtali, your muscles were so taut, It''s a sign of harsh training.''

    When ites to bows, this is a method that allows you to fully demonstrate your skills even with a small amount of mana.

    As long as you can at least distribute your mana well, you''ll be able to do a lot of good for your allies.

    ''Well, I''m not into guys, but... he''s definitely a bit unusual.''

    Bianca set her jaw and analyzed the arrows in the bull''s-eye.

    A single, thick pir rose from the center of Vikir''s bullseye.

    It only looked like a pir because so many arrows were packed tightly together in one ce.

    All arrows are stuck within 10 points.

    Several of them were splintered into pieces by arrows from behind.

    But they weren''t Bianca''s concern.

    Just one misfire.

    Bianca focused on the single arrow lodged in the blue line near the edge of Vikir''s bullseye.

    Thest 6-point shot. Because of this, Vikir lost as many as 4 points and cost him the match by one point.

    Of course, he didn''t seem to mind, but Bianca couldn''t help but wonder.

    ''Why did he shoot a 6 point at the end?''

    She doubted it was apse in concentration or stamina. His previous scores had been so good.

    "I mean, I know bows are supposed to be split-second weapons... but still, that''s a bit much at the end, isn''t it?

    But that doesn''t exin it.

    The only exnation is that Vikir''s concentration and stamina didn''t hold up until the very end.

    "Sheesh, it ended on a dull note. He was a pretty good opponent."

    Bianca clicked her tongue and turned away.

    ... If it weren''t for something that caught her eye just before she turned around.

    "Huh?"

    Bianca, who had good eyesight, stopped dead in her tracks just before she took her gaze off Vikir''s bullseye.

    It was thest arrow Vikir had shot, a six-pointed arrow, lodged in the blue line.

    Bianca''s gaze lingers on the tip of the arrow and she shudders.

    A small solid line sticking out of the hole made by the arrow.

    It was clearly the leg of an insect, a tiny, tiny bug like a mosquito.

    ''... This can''t be it. It can''t be?''

    Bianca''s throat burned.

    Her eyes were alternately focused on the group of arrows that were stuck in the 10-point box of the area, forming a thick pir, and on the single arrow that had fallen out of the group and was stuck in the 6-point area.

    A single, isted misfire.

    Is it a coincidence that there is a dead mosquito in that spot?

    * * *

    As soon as Vikir finished firing his arrows, he left the training grounds.

    ''Physical training without using mana is real.''

    His entire upper body was stiff from the constant use of his arm muscles.

    The archery skills he had learned from Bk''s warriors were improving day by day.

    He hadn''t stopped practicing since leaving the depths.

    ''You can''t go anywhere and get pushed around with a bow.''

    Even if the opponent was a powerfulte-stage member of the Divine Archer Family.

    That''s what it takes to uphold the pride of the warrior tribe of Bk, even in a foreignnd.

    Vikir hade from the hunting grounds of the Bk.

    ''So, how''s everyone doing?''

    I''ve heard rumors that the Bk have abandoned their original base and moved deeper into the depths.

    I had heard of the Bk through Sindiwendi recently, but it had been several months.

    I felt refreshed after shooting my bow for the first time in a while.

    Chief Aqu the night fox, Ahun the ever-grumpy one, his adorable little sister Ahul, and Vakira, now a father....

    It''s a night when I miss my native friends, the ones I''ve spent thest two years sleeping, crying, andughing with.

    ''And one more.''

    Vikir''s mind naturally shes back to that rainy night.

    ''... See you.''

    The Imperialnguage that I still had difficulty understanding..

    Aiyen. The woman who''d kissed him the day he''d left the jungle, right after she''d punched him in the stomach.

    Vikir stroked the choker around her neck.

    The tough cor she''d stuffed herself, made from the hide of the first oxbear Vikir and Aiyen had hunted together.

    Then.

    Vikir smiled faintly as he recalled the nostalgic faces in his mind, then froze in ce.

    Thud, thud, thud.

    Footsteps in front of him.

    Vikir, whose senses were exceptionally sensitive, recognized with a haunting certainty that it was Dolores.

    ''You''re bothering me.''

    Dolores doesn''t like him much. If she saw him, there was a risk of nagging me about various things.

    There wasn''t much of a ce to hide on the trail, which was lined with nothing but tall ash trees.

    Vikir paused for a moment to consider his options. Vikir searched his pack.

    / Mask

    -Fratricide (ͬ������) +0

    -Human Face �C Beast Heart (����F��) -Off

    A bandana that looks like the skin of a ck dog.

    Vikir pulled it over his head.

    A moment.

    Tsutsutsutsuts...

    Vikir''s body transformed into a dog.

    A ck puppy, not quite big enough for his age.

    Hack, hack, hack.

    Tucking his tattered clothes roughly into the bushes, Vikir sat still on the ground and waited for Dolores to pass by on the mountain path.

    Finally, Dolores appeared from across the path.

    Vikir realized what was going on, and with a brisk pace, Dolores was walking diligently towards the archery range.

    ''Is there business at the training grounds? There are few people there.''

    As far as Vikir could recall, there weren''t many people left at the training grounds, and even fewer of them that Dolores would be looking for.

    Bianca, perhaps?

    ''Yes. You''re going to see Bianca. Hurry up.''

    Vikir remained meekly on the floor, clicking his tongue that kept slipping out of his mouth.

    It''s a simr reaction to the baby madame who left it in the room.

    At that very moment.

    "What?"

    Dolores stopped in her tracks.

    She looks down, her almost innocent eyes opening even more innocently.

    It was the floor, where Vikir was lying face down.

    "My dear. Who are you?"

    Dolores''s affectionate call startled Vikir slightly.

    Is that why? Even the ever-quick Vikir was not prepared for Dolores'' surprise touch.

    "Wow, look at your soft fur. Ooohhhh!"

    Dolores stroked Vikir''s head with her hand and scratched his cheek and chin.

    With her other hand, she massaged Vikir''s back and buttocks.

    "Wow, really... you''re shockingly cute, I''ve never seen anyone as cute as you. What''s your name, where are you from, and if you don''t have anyone else living with you, do you want toe live with sis?"

    ''....''

    Before Vikir could react, Dolores reached out and slipped her hands under both of Vikir''s armpits and lifted him up.

    "Youngcha~ Huh? I see it''s (noona) the older sister, not (unnie) the older sister?"

    ''....''

    The moment.

    Vikir felt an unexined sense of shame that he had never felt before, not even during the Age of Destruction.

    Dolores, despite her meek and sweet exterior, was actually quite the dog lover.

    I''d heard that she donated money out of her meager ie to a shelter for stray dogs and cats every year and volunteered every other month.

    Then.

    A truly horrifying statement came out of Dolores'' mouth.

    "Oh, by the way. If you''re going to live with your sister, you''re going to have to be neutered...."

    Vikir realized that there was no reason for him to stay and listen to this creepy remark, so he made a quick getaway.

    Hodadak-

    A ck fur ball that quickly escapes from Dolores'' arms.

    His pink tongue hanging out of his mouth.

    "''C''mon, cutie,e with me, I''ll buy you some pork cutlets, chocte!"

    Dolores gave him a wistful look, calling him by the name he''d already made up, but Vikir didn''t look back for a second.

    �C

    �C

    �C

    note : ?? (unnie, "older sister"), used by females to address a slightly elder female. ?? (noona, "older sister"), used by males to address a slightly elder female.

 Chapter 176: The 99 Hits With 100 Shots (3)

    <h4>Chapter 176: The 99 Hits With 100 Shots (3)</h4>

    The Academy''s indoor training center.

    There are many advanced training devices here.

    There are all kinds of exercise equipment, as well as rooms that create holograms of virtual dungeons and monsters, rooms that measure the magic power in your body, rooms that quantify the damage done, and so on. ....

    But the best piece of technology is the room called the ''Gravity Room''.

    In this room, you can adjust the amount of gravity applied to you at will, and it will keep a record of how long youst at that level.

    Of course, if you push yourself too hard, the gravity in the gravity room will randomly disappear and your record will be reset.

    And now.

    ... Push!

    The door to the first-year gravity room opened, and a sweaty man walked out.

    A well-trained, muscr, ck-haired boy.

    He was ''Grenouille des Leviathans'', the third son of the Leviathan family.

    "Wow. After all, seven times the gravity without using mana is tough. It''s like the weight of destiny that noble people carry from birth..."

    Grenouille smirked, enjoying the stares of awe around him.

    Considering that most students struggled to withstand even six times the force of gravity, withstanding seven times the force of gravity for over half an hour was definitely a record.

    Grenouille felt like he might throw up a little, but he swallowed hard and wiped the sweat off his face in a nonchnt manner.

    ... but?

    The looks of admiration and envy directed at him seemed a little off.

    ''Not me?''

    Grenouille shifted his gaze to where the other students in the weight room were staring in unison.

    There it was.

    "...!?"

    There was a sight that made Grenouille''s eyes widen.

    It was the instrument panel of the other gravity room right next door.

    Gravity Room F-2

    .

    .

    A whopping 8x gravity.

    And an almost hour-long entry time.

    Records that are still being updated even at this very moment.

    ''No way!''

    Grenouille''s mouth dropped open.

    Half an hour in 7x gravity was enough to make him dizzy and nauseous.

    But who on earth could survive an hour in eight times the force of gravity?

    ''If the user''s condition bes severe, the gravity will dissipate on its own and the records will be reset. Does that mean that the person in here... is actually withstanding this gravity?''

    There are very few people who can withstand a gravity field of 8x without using mana, not even in the first year, but in the senior ss.

    And that''s only for about an hour....

    Then.

    Pause.

    The gravity chamber has stopped working.

    Only at exactly one hour did the door open and a thick steam burst out from inside.

    ''Who is it, the one who can withstand 8x gravity?''

    Grenouille peeked inside in a cold sweat.

    There are few monsters at the Academy who can withstand this much gravity.

    ''Not in the Hot ss, maybe a Tudor or Sancho in the Cold ss.''

    Grenouille finished his thoughts with a shit-faced expression.

    But. it was a different face that emerged from the gravity room.

    Vikir.

    Amoner schoolboy who always wore an expressionless face.

    Grenouille''s face twisted at the sight of him.

    "No, how can that weakling withstand eight times the force? Isn''t there something wrong with the record... huck?"

    But Grenouille didn''t finish his sentence.

    As the steam cleared, the body underneath Vikir''s face began to show.

    His body, which had always looked skinny and thin under his clothes, was now fully exposed.

    His muscles are trained to the extreme, and there is no b at all, making them look even more prominent.

    The lines of the cut muscles were so sharp that it felt like a cutting.

    Grenouille swallowed hard at the sight of a body that didn''t look like it belonged to someone his age.

    "That''s right, with a body like that, it''s possible to do 8x if you manage to squeeze it, yes. But it would be impossible to go any further than this without using mana. That''s the inherent limitation of a guy with poor mana reserves... ... uh?"

    Grenouille''s voice trailed off this time.

    Crackle-.

    As soon as Vikir exited the gravity room, he went to the instrument panel and adjusted the gravity coefficient upwards.

    Gravity Room F-2

    .

    With that, Vikir returned to the gravity room and began to withstand 9x gravity.

    "This is ridiculous. He won''tst even a minute like that!"

    Everyone, including Grenouille, thought the same thing.

    Inside, however, Vikir didn''t seem to mind the strain on his body.

    ''Mana is more active in a healthy body, so you should train your pure physical body without using as much mana as possible.''

    Vikir was still an adolescent, so his height was short and his muscles and skeleton were not fully formed.

    Normally, it would have been impossible for him to withstand this much gravity.

    But the seven minutes he spent in the Styx River at birth, his grueling childhood training, and the strong survival instincts he developed in the depth have made him a force to be reckoned with beyond his weight ss.

    Furthermore, the three wraiths of high-level monsters imprisoned within the magic sword Beelzebub were tempering Vikir''s body to be even stronger and tougher, and the karma he had earned from ying demons so far had hardened his soul.

    Thud, thud, thud, thud.

    Muscles and bones screamed from every part of his body, but they were instantly restored by a level of regeneration that transcended humans.

    The muscles tear, heal, tear again, and tear again, until they are even more stretched and torn.

    Vikir finally makes it through another hour and steps out of the gravity room.

    Push-ups.

    Every time Vikir endure it, he can feel his muscle mass increasing.

    Outside, the students, who had been watching Vikir''s gravity room time steadily increase, are now giving him openly surprised looks.

    "Wow, look at your body, I didn''t realize it when you were wearing clothes...."

    "Indeed, without using any mana and based on purely physical strength, he must be the strongest in the first grade."

    "What''s a freshman, I will rub it in with the third year seniors as well. No, maybe even to the graduating seniors."

    "But what''s the point, he''s a mana pool after all."

    "That''s right, it''s all about mana. The concentration of mana."

    "That''s too bad. If only he had a better family and better support, he''d be at.... by now."

    While everyone admired Vikir''s record, they also felt a certain amount of disrespect, jealousy, and condescension.

    However, the students'' views are shaken by Vikir''s next move.

    Geek-

    Gravity Room F-2

    .

    .

    Vikir has increased gravity again.

    * * *

    When Vikir exited the gravity room, he found Tudor and Sancho in the fitness room.

    "Holy shit, Vikir. Did you just go through 12x gravity and survive? Is it possible to do that without a mana boost?"

    "You''re insane. I can''t do that even when I''m hitting 1000 on 3. No warrior among my peers in the North has ever been able to withstand 12x gravity with their bare bodies. What is your secret, and if you set the gravity that high, won''t you lose muscle?"

    Vikir nodded, epting the towel from Tudor and the protein supplement from Sancho.

    Tudor chuckled.

    "Grenouille''s asshole watched you defy gravity and then ran off at 10x. That was hrious, that asshole."

    Unconcerned with the judgment of those around him, Vikir merely nodded silently this time.

    Then.

    "Vikir! Vikir, are you here?"

    The door to the fitness room swung open and someone walked in.

    It was Bianca, who rarelyes here.

    She turned and stared at Vikir in the middle of a group of surprised boys.

    She blurted out.

    "Mosquitoes!"

    Bianca''s shout made everyone in the gym turn their heads.

    Bianca shouted again.

    "That mosquito, you knew about it, didn''t you?"

    No one understood why she woulde out of the blue and say something like this when they rarely talked.

    Not even Vikir himself.

    "...?"

    Bianca repeated in frustration when Vikir just shook his head.

    "And again, aren''t you the one who was on the roof on Freshman Wee Day, smelling that rum!"

    "Hey, stop it and get out of here, this is the men''s area, why did youe here and not the women''s area?"

    "Because I''m not interested in you!"

    "You think I''m interested in you? I heard you just got a part-time job at a cafe. Get a part-time job, moron."

    "Why do you know I got a part-time job at a cafe, you crazy bastard?"

    "Let''s get this straight. I only heard about it because Sinir started working part-time at a cafe, so I asked and heard that?"

    Tudor stops Bianca in her tracks and sends her away with a wave of his hand.

    Sancho, meanwhile, was watching the scene, sharing a protein supplement with Vikir.

    "Vikir. Don''t you think they look good together?"

    Vikir shook his head at Sancho''s question.

    "Nope. They look like enemies."

    "Yeah, but they''re always interested in each other, even when they''re bickering."

    "Isn''t that because they hate each other?"

    "...Hmm. Maybe, but I keep having a hunch otherwise."

    Sancho looked at Tudor and Bianca with a wry smile on his face.

    ''You''ve got a sixth sense.''

    Vikir put down the barbell he was holding and thought back to his memories before the regression.

    Clearly, Tudor and Bianca would grow to love each other in the future.

    Their love story, which had been a constant battle since they were childhood friends, was the kind of small talk that spreads to the battlefield and bes the kind of thing that everyone knows about, and everyone cheers for, except for Tudor and Bianca.

    I''d been wondering about it, because there was no sign of it at all once they were back together, but Sancho, who was close to Tudor, seemed to see something in his eyes.

    "I know. I''m not very good at this sort of thing.''

    Vikir thought to himself as he pulled out some clothes from the cab.

    Burr-

    As he was putting on the shirt, Vikir suddenly felt a slight twitch in his left wrist.

    Madame Baby can be seen sitting on Vikir''s wrist, looking up at him with a sullen expression.

    [haeghaeg-]

    The cub rubs its stomach with its two legs as if it were hungry.

    It seems to have digested the poison that Grenouille had sprinkled on it.

    "Hang in there, little one. I''ll make sure you''re full for tomorrow''s midterm practical."

    Vikir patted Madam Baby''s head and said,

    Tomorrow, in just twelve hours, the midterms would begin.

    Before going on a demon hunt, Vikir was making ns for tomorrow.

    No matter how fake my identity was, since I was a student, exams were important.

 Chapter 177: Midterm Random Defense (1)

    <h4>Chapter 177: Midterm Random Defense (1)</h4>

    It''s midterm season.

    At Colosseo Academy, there are two types of exams: final exams and midterms.

    The final exam is apetition between students and basically follows the format of a tournament-style martial artspetition.

    However, in order to ount for the different levels of students, it introduces the concept of "tiers," which means that students of simr levels are grouped together topete.

    In order to determine the tiers for the final exam, it was necessary to validate the student''s skills in various ways, which was done through the midterm exam.

    The midterm exam consists of three main tests

    Defense & Attack.

    There is a group test for ''defense'', an individual test for ''offense'', and a normal written test.

    The written portion of the test is actually not very important, only about 10% of the total score, but the Defense and Attack portion is 50% and 40% respectively.

    Whether it''s a defense or offense test, all students have to fight a battle against a monster.

    In this case, the dummy is a y golem made by the professors of Hot ss, which only the monster''s appearance is covered with a hologram.

    However, these golems are controlled by the professors themselves, who carefully mimic the movements of the monster, so it is almost like a real battle with a wild monster.

    In the defense test, students are ced in an arena in groups of four, and a huge area of hologram magic creates the illusion of being in a real dungeon or monster field.

    (In this case, spectators watching from outside the arena can only see a 100-meter diameter circr arena).

    Students participate in the game wearing ck tights that cover their entire bodies, and when they receive a certain amount of shock from magic tools, these tights are quantified on a distant instrument panel.

    Students are given "hit points" (HP), which are deducted from them each time they are hit by a monster.

    A hard hit takes away a lot of HP, a light hit takes away less. The same goes for being hit in the face.

    If this HP reaches zero, they are automatically eliminated, so they had to be careful when dealing with monsters.

    Students had to enter the dungeon in groups of four and defend against waves of monsters, and how long they could hold out against these waves would determine their grades.

    For example, Dolores, the third-year student council president, formed a party with three ssmates to enter the virtual reality dungeon and managed to fend off waves of "killer ants" for most of the first, second, and third phases.

    Theysted 20 minutes for Phase 1, 20 minutes for Phase 2, and 18 minutes for Phase 3, for a total of one hour.

    They would have gotten a perfect score if they hadsted two more minutes, but they were still the longest of the third years, which is quite an aplishment.

    The second-year vice student council president also faced the "killer ants" in a four-person team and managed to defeat the first and second phases before being retired at the beginning of the third phase.

    The time taken was 20 minutes for Phase 1, 20 minutes for Phase 2, and 1 minute for Phase 3, totaling 41 minutes.

    This was the best time for a second year.

    Most third-years made it through Phase 3 without incident, and most second-years made it through Phase 2 without incident.

    And now it was the turn of the freshmen.

    * * *

    Thousands of people gathered on the sidelines of the arena.

    At Colosseo Academy, the midterm and final exams are like a festival for the entire imperial capital, attracting even ordinary people from the outskirts.

    "Dolores! You''re doing great this year!"

    "Cheer up! Colosseo! Pride of Imperial Capital!"

    "Wow! Mage Tower''s midterms, Varangian''s midterms, and Temisquira Women''s College''s midterms are all a mess, but Colosseo''s midterms are the best!"

    "I''m looking forward to this ''National University League'' too!"

    Spectators gathered near the stadium in cloud-like crowds, each calling out the names of their favorite students.

    Meanwhile, professors, including the principal, were also watching the game.

    Several of the Ministry''s magical professors, specializing in the summoning of golems and their precise control, were on hand.

    Screech!

    The muddy golem rose to its feet.

    Three crude spheres joined together as a head, chest, and stomach to form a body, with six legs attached to each side.

    Tsutsutsutsu...

    This lump of y was coated with illusionary magic.

    From a crude lump of y, it soon took the shape of a killer ant with a sharp exoskeleton, sharp jaws, legs, and stingers.

    With a snap of the professors'' fingers, these Killer ant-like golems crawled around, biting stones with their jaws to crush them or shooting their stingers into the ground.

    Each time the fake ants made a stinging motion, a small amount of the poison provided by the Monster Research Institute would spew out, making the battle feel real.

    "Wow, it looks like a real monster."

    "So, those are all dummy controlled by the professors?"

    "All we have to do is stop them, I''m confident!"

    The first-year students were giddy with excitement about their first big test.

    They had just watched the third- and second-year seniors perform admirably.

    Then, arge hologram window appeared in front of the first-year students.

    -Join forces with your teammates to defend against the swarming Killer ants!

    HP: 100/100

    Kill point: ? point

    Assist point: ? point

    The real midterms have begun.

    * * *

    Piggy was furiously writing down notes outside the arena.

    It was the test scores of the second and third year students fromst time.

    Since fourth-year seniors don''t take midterms or finals, it''s actually the third-year students who perform best.

    And among those third years, it''s Dolores, the student council president, who remains at the top of the list.

    She had assembled a solid party of healers, buffers, supporters, and defensive, offensive, and hybrid mages, and the result was a 58-minute run across three phases.

    Piggy analyzed the seniors'' performance data.

    "Usually third-year students make it to Phase 3 and sophomores make it to Phase 2, so freshmen only need to make it through 20 minutes of Phase 1. Even if they can onlyst 10 minutes, they''re halfway there."

    Piggy was strong on the written portion of the entrance exam, ranking third in the ss, but not so strong on the practical portion.

    Also, Piggy doesn''t have the connections to form a group.

    The best friends form groups with people they know, or people with whom they have a mutual interest, but none of them needed Piggy.

    ''...What should I do?''

    Piggy was fiddling in his mind.

    Tuck!

    A hand tapped Piggy on the shoulder.

    "Hey, don''t just go halfway. If you''re going to take the test, you should see the end."

    It was Tudor. Next to him, Sancho stood with his arms crossed.

    Then Piggy said in a creepy voice.

    "You''re Tudor, and you''re so good at it, you could probablyst the whole 20 minutes... but I''m not like that, I''m a real jam. So I don''t even know who I''m gonna line up with, actually. I''m wondering if there''s a group of kids who would be willing to take me on...."

    "What, you mean?"

    Tudor''s eyes widened at Piggy''s words.

    "I thought you were already in our group?"

    "Huh?"

    "What do you mean, were you trying to be disloyal and get into a group with the other kids?"

    Tudor chuckled, and Piggy''s dazed expression instantly turned to tears.

    "My, I was afraid I''d be a nuisance... I''m weak and...."

    "There''s no such thing as that, friends, is there, Sancho?"

    "Well, of course, and you''re smarter than us. Everyone has their strengths and weaknesses."

    Tudor and Sancho nodded in agreement. Piggy quickly pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at his eyes.

    Tudor turned his head to look at him.

    "No. But where the hell did he go? We need to get some breakfast."

    He looked for Vikir.

    But Vikir was somewhere else, a little farther away.

    @@@@@Party Member Wanted@@@@@Expert Advanced/Shield Warrior@@@@@

    Looking for two [fire, poison] mages##### Current party members (2/4)#####

    Party Wanted))) I''m an Expert Advanced Melee Dealer~~!! I''ll carry you~~!!

    Tank one person please~~!!!! Expert Intermediate and above~~!!! Current party members (3/4)

    ~~~1 Healer on a firste, first-served basis~~~(Female only)

    .

    .

    Vikir walks leisurely through the outskirts of the stadium, past numerous signs.

    Spotting Vikir walking across the field, Tudor, Sancho, and Piggy walked toward him and pped their hands together.

    "Hey, Vikir,e on, let''s get a group together, it''s almost time for registration!"

    But a simr shout came from their side.

    "Hey, Vikir, does anyone want to join us for the group test?"

    Waving was Sinir, the head of the Hot ss. Next to him was Bianca, whom he''d gotten to know quickly.

    Tudor, Sancho, and Piggy. And Sinir and Bianca.

    Divided into groups, they fight over Vikir.

    This was especially true for Tudor and Bianca, who are usually at odds with each other.

    "Vikir is in the same group as us."

    "What do you mean, he''s been walking around on his own ever since I saw him, so I''m guessing you guys picked him."

    "What are you talking about? Of course Vikir is with us. He''s our best friend, he''s been with us the longest, he''s got the best hands and feet."

    "I''m not hand-in-hand with weaklings. He''s an archer, so we have chemistry."

    "Two archers in one party? You don''t even know the divisions of the party?"

    "I''m ying. If there are two archers of his level and me, we can easilybine them."

    They chatted for a while, then turned to Vikir.

    "Vikir, which group are you going to join?"

    But.

    "I''m sorry, but I''ve already decided on the group I''ll be in. I have a prior agreement."

    Vikir''s answer was unexpected.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir all narrowed their eyes.

    They hadn''t seen Vikir with anyone but them since they enrolled.

    Just then.

    Three faces popped out from behind Vikir.

    "Why, do you have a problem?"

    "Do you have a problem?"

    "Do you?"

    Three men with cynical questions directed at Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir.

    Highbrow, Midbrow, Lowbrow.

    The triplets infamously known in the Cold ss as the "Trident of Baskerville".

 Chapter 178: Midterm Random Defense (2)

    <h4>Chapter 178: Midterm Random Defense (2)</h4>

    The triplets of the Baskervilles, who appeared out of nowhere, spoke to Vikir in a very stern manner.

    "Hey,moner. Hurry up and follow us. It''s a group test, so we need to get this together beforehand."

    Highbro jerked his chin at Vikir in an arrogant manner.

    "...."

    Vikir silently carried the triplets'' baggage. He looked like a porter.

    He was just about to follow Highbro.

    "Wait, Vikir."

    Someone stood in his way. It was Don Quixote Tudor.

    He turned to Vikir and spoke in a low voice.

    "I''m not trying to ignore you, I''m just so angry. Can you let me talk to them for a minute?"

    "?"

    Vikir stood there, unable to understand.

    Taking that as permission, Tudor walks toward the Highbro, his eyes narrowing.

    Then he spoke in a low voice that only he could hear.

    "Who do you think you are to tell my friend what to do? Vikir is not one of your men."

    "Huh?"

    "And you carry your own baggage. There is no distinction between nobles andmoners in the Academy."

    Underneath Tudor''s calm voice, searing anger burned.

    Highbro looks back at Tudor in disbelief.

    Behind him, Midbro and Lowbro red at Tudor.

    Then.

    "That''s right. Vikir is a friend of ours. If you want him as a subordinate, try us first."

    "That''s right, that''s right, who are you to treat Vikir like a servant!"

    Sancho, arge man, came to stand beside Tudor.

    And beside him was a stern-faced Piggy.

    Shake, shake, shake... ...

    Piggy''s legs were trembling, but he hadn''t taken a step backward.

    (This was a 180-degree change from the time before Vikir''s regression, when Piggy had been pinned down by Highbro and held at his feet.)

    Tudor shrugged and stepped in front of Highbro.

    "I don''t know what you''re up to, but don''t try to force Vikir to pick a team. He''s supposed to be in the same group as us."

    "... Are these assholes crazy. Who said anything about forcing anyone?"

    Highbro put his hands on his hips in disbelief.

    But, as was the case with the Baskerville hounds, Highbro could not hold out for long.

    Sssssss...

    Tudor froze in his tracks at the sharp killing intent emanating from Highbro.

    Tudor is currently tied for first ce in ss A of Cold Warriors, along with Bianca, the current Cold Warriors'' overall head of the ss.

    However, Highbro, in ss B, is ranked third overall in the Cold Warriors, far from being inferior to Tudor or Bianca.

    Behind him are the fourth-ranked Midbro and fifth-ranked Lowbro.

    On the other hand, we have the #1 Tudor, the #6 Sancho, and the unranked Piggy.

    It was inevitable that they would be outmatched.

    "...Would you like to y? Will you beat me again?"

    "...You think you can beat me?"

    Don Quixote Tudor and Highbro Baskerville stood face to face, teeth bared.

    Don Quixote, the spearman, and Baskerville, the iron-blooded swordsman.

    The spears of empire, and the iron blooded swordman were about to collide.

    at that time. There were those who joined the side of Tudor, Sancho, and Piggy.

    "Who are you to persecute our brother?"

    "It''s not a pretty sight to see you all huddled and snarling. What are men...."

    Sinir and Bianca joined them, and Tudor''s face brightened.

    Sinir and Bianca are the leaders of the Hot and Cold ss, which means they add a tremendous amount of power.

    Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro''s faces hardened even more.

    "Persecution. We''re just...."

    "Just...."

    "Just...."

    The triplets opened their mouths in anger, but were forced to shut them.

    "Enough."

    Vikir stepped forward.

    Vikir stood with his back to the Baskerville triplets.

    "I''m not being forced to go. It''s a real agreement, and we''re in a group together."

    "...What? Really?"

    "Yep. They said they needed my knowledge of monsters and wanted me to join them first. That was weeks ago."

    Not much to say then.

    Tudor rubbed at the base of his nose in annoyance, then whispered in Vikir''s ear.

    "You''re not really being bullied or anything, are you?"

    "Nope. I''m fine."

    "Well, in that case, just let me know if you''re having a hard time."

    "Thanks."

    Vikir nodded, and Tudor stepped away, looking unhappy.

    Sinir twiddled his thumbs ruefully.

    "Hyung, are you really in the same group as those guys?"

    "Yeah."

    "Why? Are you close to them?"

    "Kinda."

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir all shake their heads in unison at Vikir''s answer.

    As far as they knew, Vikir hadn''t socialized with the Baskerville triplets since he''d started school.

    So where did they get so close?

    "... You don''t look like you''re very close, are you really being bullied?"

    Tudor muttered under his breath as he watched Vikir''s back as he carried the triplets'' baggage like a porter.

    He was worried that something bad might happen to the weaker Vikir.

    * * *

    Tudor was right.

    Vikir was not very friendly with the Baskerville triplets.

    And the bullying was real.

    ... albeit with the subject and object reversed.

    A back alley deserted.

    "Good luck."

    Vikir opened his mouth to speak, and three responses came out of it in quick session.

    "Yes!"

    "Yes!"

    "Yes!"

    Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro answered in a rumbling voice as they stretched out on their stomachs in a fetal position with their heads on the floor.

    Vikir was perched on Highbro''s back.

    "You."

    Vikir looked down at Highbro and opened his mouth.

    Highbro, his head on the floor and dripping with sweat, flinched as if he had heard the Grim Reaper''s call.

    Aah!

    His reddened face turned white with blood.

    The beads of sweat that had been dribbling down his cheeks are back in his pores.

    He didn''t have to look to know that Vikir''s gaze was fixed on him.

    The back of his head felt chilled, as if the de of an awl had touched it.

    Vikir asked the question in a t, emotionless voice.

    "What hound bares his teeth without his master''s permission?"

    "... ... It has to be boiled."

    Highbro replied in a crawling voice.

    What would happen if a hound ignored its master''s wishes and bared its teeth at the prey?

    The hunt is bound to fail in all likelihood.

    For the hunter, a failed hunt doesn''t just mean missing the prey.

    The hunter can be the hunted at any moment. That''s why hounds must always obey their master''smands. Unless they want to be hunted alongside their master.

    Vikir stepped down from Highbro''s throbbing back.

    "Wake up."

    "Wake up!"

    "Wake up!"

    "Wake up!"

    As the triplets scrambled to their feet, Vikir spoke from behind them.

    "From now on, any fighting that is not authorized by me is forbidden. Not even the slightest bickering. For the rest of your lives."

    "Yes!"

    "Yes!"

    "Yes!"

    The Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro answered in unison.

    Their faces were bright despite their punishment, and that was because of thest words Vikir had spoken.

    ''For the rest of your lives.''

    What does that mean?

    ''...means you''re going to take us for life!''

    They had sworn an oath of loyalty to Vikir when they were in Baskerville, and now they were fully reborn as Vikir''s Trident, not Baskerville''s Trident.

    It was Vikir who had rmended the triplets to Hugo and gotten them into the Academy in the first ce.

    No longer were they always on the run, wondering when they would be abandoned by the family.

    A dog is a hundred times more courageous when they are sure of their master and have been promised that their master will not abandon them.

    What''s more, they had witnessed Vikir''s fight with Madame Eightlegs, so they had some idea of his true strength.

    He has reached this level at just 18 years old, so what will it be when he get older?

    The triplets were convinced.

    that their master would one day swallow Baskerville whole.

    And by extension, the entire world.

    That''s why they were so happy and willing to pledge their allegiance to him.

    For as a dog is blessed to have a good master, so is a knight blessed to serve a great lord.

    Meanwhile.

    Vikir said to the triplets.

    "I don''t really like being noticed by people. I happened to get a little carried away, but I''m not in trouble anymore."

    The triplets nodded believingly.

    "We''ll take care of the midterms."

    "We''ll carry it."

    "We''ll carry."

    The triplets said they would do the rest as long as Vikir, the archer, made a good one-deal behind them.

    All Vikir has to do is hide in the back and passively takes thest hit while the triplets run wild up front.

    That way, he''ll get a decent grade on the test and stay out of sight.

    Highbro exined to Vikir the ins and outs of the entire test.

    "When our group 69 takes the field, the virtual reality circle will be activated, which will turn the area around you into a dungeon and monsters will swarm around you. The poison they release is diluted, but it''s real and dangerous if you allow too much of it into your body. But don''t worry, my lord. We will guard you vigntly."

    "You know your stuff. Have you practiced before?"

    "I''ve done it a few times in the training grounds of the house when my lord was away. It''s not a very difficult test, since all you have to do isst as long as possible until your HP goes from 100 to 0. However, since it''s a group test... you have to pay some attention to the survival of yourpanions, in addition to earning your own kill and assist points."

    It''s the hounds of Baskerville who are born to actually walk the line between life and death.

    This kind of virtual reality game is just in ridiculous.

    "Physical damage doesn''t take effect until you''re down from 100 HP to 0 HP, and poison damage takes effect from the start, right?"

    "Yes, and if there''s a dangerous incident, the instructors will break the magic firewall and step directly into the arena to intervene."

    The monsters were also professor-created golems, so it was a safe test.

    "Kills are good, assists are good, so run wild. Just make sure I don''t move."

    The Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro smirked at Vikir''s words.

    They looked like three puppies who had just been told by their master that they could run free.

    And then.

    Beep.

    A whistle sounded, calling out the group that would take the next test.

    [First year group 69! The four members of first year group 69 will pleasee up to the arena now!]

    The skill evaluation of first-year freshmen begins now.

    �C

    �C

    �C

    note: why 69?

 Chapter 179: Midterm Random Defense (3)

    <h4>Chapter 179: Midterm Random Defense (3)</h4>

    Beep-.

    [First year group 69! The four members of first year group 69 will pleasee up to the arena now!]

    It was the turn of Vikir''s group.

    The Baskerville triplets led the way, with Vikir following close behind, carrying their unwieldy baggage.

    "Go, Highbro, you look handsome!"

    "Baskerville is the best!"

    "Show me your trident charisma!"

    The poprity of Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro was immense, both inside and outside the Academy.

    Powerful skills, noble bloodlines, tall stature, broad shoulders, stern faces, and the unusual trait of being triplets.

    He had all the ingredients to be a star.

    In addition to the girls at the academy, there were many fans from outside the academy.

    Even the Mage Tower, Varangian, and Temisquira Women''s College, the four major academies in the empire along with Colosseo Academy, came to see the Baskerville triplets.

    Meanwhile.

    "Come on, Vikir!"

    "We''re here for you!"

    "Go big brother!"

    There were also those who cheered for Vikir. Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Sinir, and Bianca.

    At Dolores'' urging, they were currently in separate groups, as first-years are encouraged to split up their cold and hot ss as much as possible.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca made up the 108 group, and Sinir was the only hot ss, so she was in the other group.

    "Hmmm. C''mon,moner, thank me for taking you in."

    Next to Sinir stood a blushing Grenouille.

    They were currently in the same group, but it didn''t mean much if they weren''t in the same group as Vikir and Bianca, so as soon as Sinir posted "Party Wanted@@@@{Earth+Gold}Mage$$$$Head of Hot ss####" on the public board, Grenouille contacted her immediately.

    That''s why Grenouille is so excited about the group.

    Whatever.

    Vikir and the Baskervilles'' triplets stepped onto an amphitheater a hundred meters in diameter.

    In the huge Colosseum surrounding them, countless people stamp their feet, cheer, and watch the test taking ce in the training hall.

    It was like watching an ancient diator match.

    Tsutsutsutsuts...

    Soon, the scene in the arena changes.

    Vikir and the triplets'' view is suddenly transformed into a deep, abyssal crypt.

    Soon, countless ''killer ants'' began to swarm around them.

    Waaaaaah!

    The crowd roared.

    To the audience, it would appear to be just a bunch of golems crawling like ants around the circr arena, approaching in a clockwise direction.

    Vikir and the triplets must intercept and hunt them down before they reach the center of the arena.

    Phase 1, 20 minutes. If you canst just 20 minutes against this army of ants, you get a perfect score.

    But the average first year student will onlyst 17 or 18 minutes at best, and 19 minutes will probably put them in the top spot.

    "...."

    Vikir looked around.

    The Filthy Spawning Grounds, deep within a nest of killer ants.

    A terrifying dungeon that most people would never visit in their entire lives.

    But Vikir had been here dozens, perhaps hundreds, of times already.

    Not in virtual reality, but in real life.

    ''I almost died so many times back then, not every day, but every second.''

    Vikir frowned at the lingering nightmare.

    The darkness, the damp grave smell, the wrinkled earthen walls, the slime dripping down like a veil, the piles of eggs squirming on the floor and walls, the swarms of ants the size of men crawling out from between them....

    The average freshman would be horrified by the appearance of the barren dungeon in front of them.

    ''Hoh. They did a pretty good job recreating it.''

    For Bikir, it was like being in the cradle of a child''s y.

    With that, Vikir drew his bow and let fly.

    Puck! Pow! Pow!

    The exoskeleton of a killer ant is hard.

    Their shield-like heads are an excellent defense, deflecting most impacts.

    So Vikir only targets the ants'' front leg joints and antennae.

    ...Poof!

    An ant with a broken front leg falls to the ground and is crushed by the ants behind it.

    The dead body bes an obstacle for the other ants, slowing their advance.

    Dengue.

    Ants with severed antennae are also disoriented and scorch the walls or ceiling.

    Sometimes they would run backwards, disrupting the line behind them.

    The slowed-down ants were then ughtered by the Baskervilles'' triplets.

    Pow!

    Sword Expert Advanced. At the age of 19, they had reached the peak of Expert level and began to slice and cut through the ants, emitting a red aura that was as thick as water vapor between gas and liquid.

    Puck! Puff! Puff, puff, puff, Crackling!

    The ants'' heads and everything else were sliced off.

    Baskerville''s trident began to push the ant army backwards.

    -Let''s join forces with our allies and stop the onught of killer ants!

    Time remaining until the end of Phase 1: 14 minutes, 58 seconds

    1. Highbro Les Baskervilles

    HP: 91/100

    Kill point: 49 points

    Assist point: 23 points

    2. Midbro Les Baskervilles

    HP: 87/100

    Kill point: 45 points

    Assist point: 26 points

    3. Lowbro Les Baskervilles

    HP: 86/100

    Kill point: 41 points

    Assist point: 29 points

    4. Vikir

    HP: 100/100

    Kill point: 2 points

    Assist point: 38

    As the game progressed, the scores continued to climb.

    Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro were working hard on the front lines, and their HP was slowly dropping.

    Meanwhile, Vikir was working diligently in the back under their protection, shooting down ants with his arrows, and while he wasn''t racking up many kill points, he was racking up some solid assist points.

    After focusing on the Baskerville triplets'' spectacr individual performances at the beginning of the match, the crowd slowly began to pay attention to Vikir, who was steadily making assists from the back.

    "But who is he, Vikir? He doesn''t have ast name, so he must be amoner."

    "Ah, Vikir, the one with the top marks? He''s an archer? I didn''t know that. He seemed to have a low mana pool for some reason."

    "He''s pretty good with a bow, for a guy who''s supposed to be an academy student."

    "But wasn''t there a bit of a buzz about him being handsome? I don''t think so."

    "No, he looks great without his sses. Want me to show you? Where it was?"

    Many eyes in the stands lingered on Vikir for a moment, but the interest quickly faded as he barely moved from his spot and drew his bow.

    Only the cheering of Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Sinir, and Bianca is steady.

    "Come on, buddy, we''re rooting for you!"

    "Hey, Vikir. You''re building up a nice stack of assists. You''re going to get a good score at this rate."

    "Wow, Vikir, your bow skills are impressive! You may not be able to see it, but you''re definitely disrupting the ants'' momentum!"

    "Too bad. Me and my hyung would have really hit it off if we were in the same group."

    "Nonsense. An archer knows an archer''s heart. He would have doubled his score with me."

    Whether or not he realizes that his friends are cheering him on, Vikir remains silent, fending off the wave of ants.

    Tsk, tsk, tsk!

    The ants rubbed their exoskeletons together, making unpleasant noises and asionally lifting their antennae upward like scorpions to spray venom.

    Sting-.

    The pale paralyzing venom flew a long distance, shooting out like a squirt.

    Vikir watched it and thought.

    ''The ants are just holographic magic oveid on a y figure, but... the poison is real.''

    The Introduction to Golems exins the various ways to store things inside a golem.

    The professors here have built an ant-shaped golem and filled it with diluted poison supplied by the Monster Research Institute.

    Meanwhile, the triplets of House Baskerville would bend low whenever the ants spewed their venom, allowing it to ssh toward Vikir.

    This was exactly what Vikir had ordered them to do.

    Thwack!

    A thick poisonous fog rises. This was actually happening inside the arena.

    (A thick wall of magic surrounds the arena, preventing the poison from reaching the stands.)

    There was only one reason why Vikir would want to be this close to the poison.

    [omnomnomnomnomnom...]

    Madame cub.

    This thing attached to my left wrist was sucking in poisonous fog as if possessed.

    The paralyzing venom of the killer ants is just the right meal for this one.

    It''s amazing how a creature smaller than the palm of your hand can store all that poison.

    "You know how spiders eat a lot at once and go a long time without eating?

    For her, it''s a 20-minute all-you-can-eat poison buffet. So I thought it would be a good idea to feed her a lot now.

    For more information, visit ....

    -Join forces with your allies to defend against the onught of killer ants!

    Time remaining until the end of Phase 1: 1 minute 07 seconds

    1. Highbro Les Baskervilles

    HP: 2/100

    Kill point: 228 point

    Assist point: 80 point

    2. Midbro Les Baskervilles

    HP: 1/100

    Kill point: 208 point

    Assist point: 96 point

    3. Lowbro Les Baskervilles

    HP: 1/100

    Kill point: 199 point

    Assist point: 102 point

    4. Vikir

    HP: 47/100

    Kill point: 16 point

    Assist point: 134 point

    Wave time is almost over.

    Highbro, Middlebro, and Lowbro reached 0 HP almost simultaneously and ughtered countless ants until the very end.

    After the trio retired to 0 HP, it was Vikir''s turn.

    At the end of the trial, the total score was 308 for the highbro, 304 for the midbro, 301 for the lowbro, and 150 for Vikir.

    Theysted a whopping 19 minutes and 50 seconds, with only 10 seconds left in the first phase.

    If you add up all of their kill points and assist points, they totaled 1063 points, and if you convert the 19 minutes and 50 seconds that yousted into 1 point per second, it''s a total of 1,190 points.

    Vikir''s team totaled 2253 points, the highest among the first years.

    A new record for first ce!

    The Baskerville triplets walked out of the arena, smiling broadly as the cheers erupted.

    Next up was the ever-expressive Vikir.

    Vikir was just about to step out of the arena''s magic wall.

    "...?"

    For some reason, my left arm felt a little heavy.

    I turned my head and saw that the Madame cub had stuck a thin web on the arena floor, refusing to leave.

    It looked like it wanted to eat more of the remaining poison.

    "Can you eat that much and still go in? But no. It''s time to go."

    [Grunting].

    "Then you live in the arena. I''m going home."

    [kkuing-kkuing...]

    "Sssh-"

    Vikir picked up the refusing cub and tucked it into the cuff of his left hand.

    To anyone else, it would have looked like he was just picking up a wristwatch from the floor.

    As Vikir exited the stadium, he could hear the crowd appraising him.

    "Wow, Vikir or something, that guy ispletely on board."

    "Yeah, well, ording to the score, the triplets from Baskerville did it all."

    "I thought the three of them were there to bully the little bastard, but it turns out the three of them were there to serve the little bastard."

    "Luckymoner. How did you get into that group?"

    "Well, being number one in handwriting, I guess he was trying to use his brain."

    "But he''s pretty good at stopping monsters with his arrows. 150 points isn''t exactly a ster score, but it''s a good one."

    "I saw him shoot a bow with no mana the other day and it was amazing. He has the basics, right?"

    "Oh, yeah, I saw that, too. Wasn''t he almost as good as Bianca from Usher''s?"

    "Oh, a close one, ain''t it? He lost by one point because of hisst shot. In archery, a one-point difference is huge. It''s almost a division. If there is a difference of 2 points, the difference in skill level is impossible topare."

    "Still, he''s kind of helpful. We should try to get him in the same group next time."

    "That''s right, he''s amoner, and he''s the highest scoring arrow shooter."

    At first, there was a lot of negativity about Vikir being taken advantage of by the Baskerville triplets, but that was slowly changing.

    Of course, Vikir himself didn''t care about thements, but there were others... who did.

    "Hahaha, it makes me proud to see my friend being recognized."

    "With that kind of score and integrity, he deserves to be recognized everywhere."

    "Yes, Vikir is more than just brains. I''m d everyone seems to have discovered a new side of him."

    "You look great. Hehe."

    "...Well, it does shoot a little. He''d score better if he had more mana."

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Sinir, and Bianca.

    They''d watched Vikir''s group of 69 take first ce in first year, and they were fired up.

    "Let''s see if we can beat that! Go Group 108!"

    "We can''t lose to Baskerville''s Trident."

    "I''ll do my best, I''ve been analyzing killer ants all night!"

    "Just keep your distance and I''ll carry, don''t let the mob get to me."

    This was Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca, chattering away in cheerful tones.

    Meanwhile.

    "Whoa, whoa, whoa,moner. Let''s do our part."

    "...."

    "What is it,moner, are you deaf, hmmmmm, can''t you hear me?"

    Group 203, to which Grenouille and Sinir belonged, was also preparing for the test.

    Next up.

    Group 108, Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca, was called.

    Beep.

    [First-year 108, the four members of the first-year group 108, pleasee up to the arena now!]

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca rush onto the arena, excited to get their turn.

    ...And the same time.

    Vikir, who hade to the side of the arena to watch his friends y, noticed something strange.

    ''...What''s wrong?''

    An unexined feeling of anxiety overtook him.

    Soon, Vikir realized what it was.

    ''Ouch!''

    He realized that his left hand had felt strangely light.

    Vikir quickly looked into the cuff of his left hand.

    There, he could see the cub sitting in an unusually quiet position.

    But then.

    A rustle.

    Vikir takes his hand away, and the cub crumbles to dust.

    Nothing but an empty shell in his hand.

    That''s right.

    The guy had just shed his skin.

 Chapter 180: Midterm Random Defense (4)

    <h4>Chapter 180: Midterm Random Defense (4)</h4>

    Tudor recalled the fight with Highbro that had nearly turned into a duel not long ago.

    "Asshole. I''ll see you someday in Naphtali, and I''ll kick your ass again."

    "Wow, you sounded like a real third-rate viin."

    Bianca jerked a thumbs up at Tudor.

    It was quite a surprise to see Tudor and Bianca in the same group, as they were always arguing.

    "...Will we be okay?"

    "...Mmm."

    Piggy and Sancho looked at them, uneasy.

    Beep-!

    [First year group 108, the four members of the first year group 108, pleasee up to the stadium now].

    But it was an unnecessary worry.

    "Now then, please cover me as a range dealer from behind, Ms. B."

    "Don''t worry about it, Mr. T."

    Because as soon as the exam started, Tudor and Biancapletely put aside their personal feelings and became businesslike party members.

    Tsutsutsuts...

    Before my eyes I was summoned to a dank darkness, to a dank crypt, to gloomy molds and foul slime, and to a mass of eggs and eggshells that stirred unpleasantly.

    Dgldgldgldgldgl...

    And among them, countless armies of ants began to swarm.

    A monster wave! A monster wave! It soon rushed towards the four examinees, almost overwhelming them.

    -Tingling!

    A magical status board appeared in front of everyone''s eyes.

    <Map: Killer Ant Colony ''Filthy Spawning Grounds''

    -Let''s join forces with our allies and fend off the murderous ants!

    Time remaining until the end of Phase 1: 19 minutes, 59 seconds

    1. Don Quixote La Mancha Tudor

    HP: 100/100

    Kill point: 0 points

    Assist point: 0 points

    2. Sancho Panza Barataria

    HP: 100/100

    Kill point: 0 points

    Assist point: 0 points

    3. Usher Pou Bianca

    HP: 100/100

    Kill point: 0 points

    Assist point: 0 points

    4. Piggy

    HP: 100/100

    Kill point: 0 points

    Assist point: 0 points

    "Alright, let''s set a new record!"

    Tudor, the most promising young man in the Don Quixote family of spearmen, lunged forward, holding arge spear.

    ...Whoosh!

    A steamy aura of blue light emanated from the spear, indicative of an Expert rank.

    Although it is weaker in hardness and density than the liquid aura of a Graduator or the solid aura of a Swordmaster, the expert''s gas aura is still the lightest in weight.

    ...That means it''s easy to swing!

    Puff-puff-puff!

    The ants in front of him got caught in the storm of auras from the spear and were torn apart like paper.

    Bianca snorted at the sight.

    "Do you really need to tear them to pieces? It''s inefficient to waste energy you don''t have to use."

    "What? Fine, then you can try it."

    "I''m sure I can, just watch."

    Bianca let go of the demonstration as she spoke.

    Poof!

    An arrow, imbued with mana flew in a bluish trajectory.

    It pierced the brow of the ant crawling in front of her.

    It flew all the way back, lodging itself halfway in the brow of the ant behind it before exerting its full force.

    Bianca killed the ants one by one, using minimal effort.

    Bianca''s arrows hit just the right spot, wounding the ant just enough to kill it.

    Her prating shots, imbued with the unique gas aura of an Expert, leave the ants lined up and dying.

    "Oh-so arrogant."

    "Do you get it now, ho-ho-ho-"

    Tudor and Bianca smirked at each other. They were bad friends who got along well together.

    Just then, ants fell from the ceiling toward Bianca.

    They opened their big, sharp jaws and aimed for her head.

    "Where!"

    "How dare they!"

    A huge axe and a sharp longsword blow the ants'' heads off.

    Sancho and Piggy were now at Bianca''s side, ying tank.

    Puck! Pow! Pow! Pow! Pow! Pow!

    Sancho swings his two axes with tremendous force, chopping up the ants.

    Piggy swung his longsword and shed at the ants, all the while barking orders.

    "Tudor! I think it would be more effective to get to the corner and deliver the blow when the line of ants breaks; Sancho, let''s try to draw them in a little further rather than blocking them from the center straight; Bianca, if you can, aim for the middle row of ants, preferably at the front leg joints so you don''t have to kill them."

    Piggy''s orders were so precise and sharp that even Bianca, who didn''t like to be told what to do, looked surprised and moved ordingly.

    "...You''re really good, aren''t you?"

    "Hehe, thanks. I didn''t want to embarrass you, so I studied a lot!"

    Piggy may not have thebat prowess of the other three, but he was just as intelligent and dedicated.

    Because of this, Tudor, Sancho, and Bianca were able to hunt more efficiently than ever before.

    "See! I told you Piggy was good!"

    "I don''t think anyone ever refuted that. Hehe!"

    Tudor''s spear smashed through the ants in front of him, while Sancho''s double axe sliced through the onesing out of the side.

    "I think ourbination is pretty good?"

    Bianca was firing well-timed arrows that were causing the ants to tangle in their ranks, noticeably slowing down the monster wave.

    "Thanks for believing in my order, I''ll be right there, Tudor, just a little more distance, your spear skills are amazing, maybe you can expand your area a little more, ah! Same goes for Sancho, you''re doing a great job as it is, but I think you''ll be much more efficient if you fight in the corners a little more, and Bianca''s doing so well right now that I think we can just keep going as it is, go, guys!"

    And it''s all done under Piggy''s orders.

    As Tudor crushed the ants'' heads, dodging the venom that poured down the back of his head, he eximed.

    "Man, this is good, and if I do it right, I''ll break Vikir''s record!"

    Then Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca joined in.

    "We can do it! Break the record!"

    "Huh... this is really hard. I wonder if Vikir had it this hard?"

    "The Baskervilles'' dogs are so strong and stubborn, it must have been hard."

    Everyone feels sorry for Vikir, who was with the Baskervilles'' triplets.

    They talk about things that Vikir would have loved to hear.

    Time passes.

    Countless ants have died and piled up, and Tudor, Sancho, and Piggy, who had been on the front lines, are exhausted.

    Everyone''s HP was so low that Bianca, who was now an range dealer, had to step forward and stand upright.

    And finally.

    <Map: Killer Ant Colony ''Filthy Spawning Grounds''

    -Together with your allies, let''s defend against the onught of killer ants!

    Time remaining until the end of Phase 1: 0 minutes, 08 seconds

    1. Don Quixote La Mancha Tudor

    HP: 0/100

    Kill point: 231

    Assist point: 81

    2. Sancho Panza Barataria

    HP: 0/100

    Kill point: 189

    Assist point: 94

    3. Usher Pou Bianca

    HP: 0/100

    Kill point: 156

    Assist point: 179

    4. Piggy

    HP: 0/100

    Kill point: 58

    Assist point: 89

    Eight seconds left!

    We beat the record set by the Baskerville triplets by two seconds.

    The total score at the end of the trial is 312 for Tudor, 283 for Sancho, 335 for Bianca, and 147 for Piggy.

    Kills and assists totaled 1077 points, and if you add in the 19 minutes and 52 seconds theysted, at a rate of one point per second, they totaled 1192 points.

    That''s a total of 2269 points, 16 points ahead of the original first-ce record of 2253 points.

    The first ce record has been broken!

    Looking at the status window, Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca, with their HP-recording suits half off, shouted.

    "We''re in first ce! Yay!"

    "Well done, everyone."

    "Really? We''re in first ce? Hooray!"

    "Good job."

    Tudor, who killed the most ants up front, Sancho, who killed the next most ants, Bianca, who had the highest score for kills and assistsbined, and finally Piggy, the unseen hero who gave orders at just the right time.

    Their synergy set a new record in spectacr style, and there''s not a group in sight that can top it.

    Tudor looked down at his suit''s HP log and breathed a sigh of relief.

    "I''m d impacts are quantified in HP, because if this was real life, it would have meant death, right?"

    With that, everyone realizes the horror of the real thing.

    They look back at the number of monsters they''ve defeated and realize their capabilities, limitations, and potential for improvement.

    "Now, let''s get out of here!"

    Piggy shouted, and everyone nodded.

    First year students only have toplete one phase of the test.

    In the second year, they''ll have to endure another twenty minutes of Phase 2, and in the third year, they''ll have to endure another twenty minutes of Phase 3.

    Bianca muttered.

    "One day I''ll be a warrior like Ms. Dolores who canst an hour."

    Tudor, Sancho, and Piggy nodded in agreement.

    They headed for the dungeon''s entrance.

    Soon, the holographic spell would lift and they would be back in the real world.

    The illusory anthill would disappear, the real arena would appear, and the magic wall would be lifted.

    Then you will hear the thunderous roar of the crowd.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca walked on, wondering how they would respond to the cheers.

    ... but.

    "Huh?"

    "What?"

    "Huh?"

    "Why isn''t it over?"

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca''s faces are colored with puzzlement.

    Despite the end of the first-year-only Phase 1, the illusion of the anthill still hadn''t faded.

    Everyone looks back at the status window in confusion.

    1. Don Quixote La Mancha Tudor

    HP: 0/100

    2. Sancho Panza Barataria

    HP: 0/100

    3. Usher Pou Bianca

    HP: 0/100

    4. Piggy

    Piggie: 0/100

    Everyone''s HP remains the same. A power retirement signaling the end of the test.

    Just then.

    Rumbling, rumbling... ...

    Behind thest of the ants, another huge swarm of ants began to swarm.

    "What the hell!?"

    "Why are they swarming again?"

    "I thought we were done!"

    "Open the door!"

    Everyone panicked and banged on the magic wall behind them, but there was no response from the outside.

    Instead, what shed before their eyes was.

    -Ting!

    .

    .

    .

    .

    This time, it''s not just worker ants.

    They were swarming with giant-sized army ants.

    They were enormous in size, and their entire bodies were coated with an exoskeleton like an iron shield.

    " ...X that."

    The blood began to drain from the faces of Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca.

 Chapter 181: Midterm Random Defense (5)

    <h4>Chapter 181: Midterm Random Defense (5)</h4>

    Student Council President Dolores.

    She watches with delight as the juniors in her club set a new school record.

    But as the minutes ticked by, Dolores'' expression hardened.

    " ...Why aren''t the exams over?"

    She wasn''t the only one with this reaction.

    All the spectators, students, and even professors watching the test were stunned.

    "Hey, this is weird."

    "They all have 0 HP, why isn''t the test over?"

    "They''re freshmen, who put them on phase two!"

    The phases take the form of crystals that emit a blue light as a means of transmitting magic power.

    The people in charge of it stared at the instrument panel with sullen expressions.

    "There seems to be an error, as there are still strong life reactions outside of the registered students in the examination hall!"

    "What? What do you mean, there are only four kids on the field!"

    The professors are dumbfounded.

    The stadium originally had about four human lives left, which were converted into points by the HP suits.

    Now that it''s down to zero, there should be no more life responses on the field.

    But sure enough, the dashboard indicated that there was one "life-filled being" left that could fight.

    The professors scanned the arena through the magic wall, but there was no sign of life other than the students.

    "Anyway, it looks like the magic for the life reaction check and the phase management magic collided, causing the error."

    "Oh no. Why would there be such an error? There are obviously only four first-year students in the arena... ah, that''s not the point now, hurry up and stop the collision!"

    "We''re technically the Phase Magic Management Department... and the Life Reaction Check Magic Department is not under our jurisdiction...."

    "What the hell is your jurisdiction! No way, it''s faster to stop the golems than to write and solve a magic circle code, right?"

    "That''s because... from this year, the creation and movement of the golems is automated, so the magic circle code rted to it is also linked to the magic stones, and in order to dismantle it, we need to dismantle the magic for life reaction checks and phase management magic first."

    "What, are you kidding me, I can''t believe the magic circle code needed for the test was designed so poorly! So what then! tell me how!"

    "Ba, of course there is a way! The code for the magic wall blocking the stadium is separate, we just need to break it to let the students out."

    "Then unlock the magic wall!"

    "But the magic wall isn''t under our jurisdiction, and if we mess with it, it couldplicate our liabilityter...."

    "Jurisdiction" and "liability" are such magical words that they can cause even the most normal,mon-sense person''s brain to harden.

    This is especially true in times of crisis.

    Somehow, the smallest of problems were beingpounded by the operations of the other side.

    But there was still a way out.

    We just need to unlock the invisible magic wall that surrounds the stadium and let the students out.

    The professor in charge gave the order with an impatient look on his face.

    "Then quickly dismantle the magic wall. Let the students insidee out."

    "That''s also out of my jurisdiction, so I''ll try to find a practitioner who has the key to the magic wall at ...."

    The professors at the head of the department scramble.

    Soon, a professor with a key to the magic wall appears.

    He was Professor Morg Banshee, a potential candidate for the next vice principal.

    Professor Banshee was supervising an exam that was taking ce in another training center, and hurriedly rushed over when he heard the news of a series of incidents that urred in Tudor''s group.

    "The key to the magic wall? I have it, but...."

    Professor Banshee pulled out the key with a puzzled look on her face, which contained the spell to dismantle the magic wall.

    The key had arge letter A written on it.

    "Dismantling the magic wall cannot be done with just one key. Key A is useless without Key B."

    The key had been split into two for security purposes.

    At Professor Banshee''s words, all the professors started looking for the B key.

    And then another incident happened.

    "Professor Sady, the holder of the B-key, has left the workce without permission!"

    "What! What the hell is that asshole doing again! It''s been days since she was disciplined for neglect of duty... where the hell has she been!?"

    "Uh, she said she had to go to the restroom and we lost contact."

    "Damn, what a fucking jerk this woman is...!?"

    While professors are wasting time like this.

    1. Don Quixote La Mancha Tudor

    HP: 0/100

    2. Sancho Panza Barataria

    HP: 0/100

    3. Usher Poe Bianca

    HP: 0/100

    4. Piggy

    HP: 0/100

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca were exhausted and fighting the ants.

    "Damn, now our HP suits are broken!"

    "We might as well take them off, these ufortable tights."

    "The physical damage I''m about to take is going to be a real shock, everyone, watch out!"

    "What the hell, why can''t I unlock the illusion dungeon, spawn golems, and dismantle the magic barrier!"

    Their HP had already been reduced to zero long ago, so they had to fight the monsters with their own bodies.

    The ants were still swarming in droves.

    Due to the structure of the defense game, the monsters are unlimited.

    What''s more, Phase 2 was for second year students only, so there weren''t just regr ants.

    [Ohhhhhh!]

    A gigantic ant rose up from the rubble.

    It had a wide, hard head like a shield, with many spikes, and its body was many timesrger than the other ants.

    " ...It''s a soldier ant!"

    Piggy eximed in horror.

    There was no way they could be mixed in with the regr ants.

    "Damn it! We have to stop them!"

    "We''ll try!"

    Tudor and Sancho fought back with all their might, but their already depleted mana couldn''t keep their auras pumping.

    The soldier ants rushed forward, pushing the ground with their shield-like heads, and blew Tudor and Sancho away.

    ... Quack, quack, quack!

    Tudor''s spear and Sancho''s axe are smashed and scattered.

    And soon after, the soldier ants started poking their heads in.

    Quack, quack, quack!

    Feeling overwhelmed by so many shield soldiers, Sancho, Tudor, Piggy, and Bianca were crushed by the swarming ants.

    "Crunch, crunch, crunch!"

    "Crunch! They keeping!"

    "...God, I''m going to die!"

    "Ugh, what are the professors doing!"

    Everyone was letting out pained moans.

    The situation was quite serious, but it had happened so quickly that the professors hadn''t yet found a way to deal with it.

    "Since it''se to this, we''ll have to smash the magic stone!"

    "Who''s going to break it, this magic stone has at least 4 departments'' responsibilities mixed up in it!"

    "Everyone knows that the magic stone is an extremely rare and expensive ancient opal, right? Yes, some department head will take responsibility! Let''s make that clear first!"

    "Is this the golem creation department? Is this the bioreaction detection department? Is this the phase management department? Is this the magic wall maintenance department? Whose jurisdiction is this? Let''s make it clear where responsibility lies first!"

    Adults'' situations areplicated.

    "The Golem Department made a mistake in adding the Automation Magic Circle to the original Golem Creation Magic Circle, so let''s destroy the Magic Stones and take responsibility!"

    "Why our side? The Bioreaction Detection Department made the mistake in the first ce, they should be the ones to destroy the magic stones!"

    "What are you talking about! If we hadn''t gone through the phase, none of this would have happened! Who''s more at fault and who''s less at fault!"

    "Has Professor Sady contacted you yet, what are you going to do about this magic wall!"

    "Didn''t everyone hear the rumors!? There is a rumor that among the first year freshmen, there is a member of the royal family who came in hiding their identity! If this incident bes known to the imperial family, we''ll all be dead!"

    While the children are dying, the adults do nothing but think about their own safety and gain.

    Dolores, worried about her juniors, was disillusioned by the professors'' behavior.

    ''Guys, hang in there... just a little longer!''

    Dolores raised the sword herself.

    Boom!

    She grabbed the sword from the waistband of the professor next to her and ran towards the magic stone.

    The professors shouted in horror.

    "Student council president! What are you doing!"

    "Are you crazy! Stop right now!"

    "If you break it, you won''t end up being expelled! Requestpensation directly from Quovadis... ... !"

    But none of the threats or words could stop Dolores.

    "Iyab!"

    She swung her sword at the magic stone.

    In this moment, the lives of her juniors were on the line.

    It didn''t matter that it was the Academy''s Imperial Treasure No. 1, or that it was a national treasure of incalcble value, or even that she would be expelled for destroying it.

    Driven solely by the need to save his juniors, Dolores plunged the sword in.

    ...No, she tried to stab it.

    Puff-puff-puff!

    If it weren''t for the barrage of noiseing from beyond the magic wall, from within the arena.

    "!?"

    Dolores looked up in rm.

    The other professors, who had rushed to stop her, also looked at the stadium in surprise.

    The magic wall that keeps outsiders in and insiders out is still intact.

    However, there is one face within it that I hadn''t seen before.

    A man stands in front of an exhausted Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca, swatting at ants.

    "...stay away."

    It was Vikir.

 Chapter 182: Midterm Random Defense (6)

    <h4>Chapter 182: Midterm Random Defense (6)</h4>

    There was nothing Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca could do.

    With all their health and mana gone, they''re just 18-year-old kids.

    The weight of the ant-shaped golems that were crushing them was too much for them to bear.

    "Ugh. I can''t believe I''m stuck here like this... and I haven''t even be a hero yet...."

    "I didn''t think my end would be like this."

    "I''m going to be a hero. ...."

    "Hey, Piggy! Why isn''t this guy talking! Isn''t he dead already!?"

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca were paralyzed with despair.

    They were just about to let go of theirst hope.

    ...BAM!

    With a loud booming sound, the pressure on their bodies disappeared.

    As if the weight of the ants had been temporarily lifted, a rush of fresh air swept in, clearing away the suffocating poisonous fog.

    "...?"

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca gulped and looked up.

    There was a ck cloud of blood swirling around them.

    "...stay away."

    A familiar figure stood behind them, Vikir.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca could only stare in disbelief.

    "Vi, Vikir! How did you get here...."

    Tudor, who still had some energy left, stammered, but Vikir didn''t say much.

    Just.

    "It''s okay now."

    With those words, he raised his bow.

    At the same time.

    POP!

    A ck aura rose from Vikir''s bow.

    An arrow flew out with a red trajectory.

    Quack, quack, quack!

    It smashed the head of the giant army ant that was charging in front of him with a single blow.

    ...!?

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca''s jaws dropped.

    * * *

    A few minutes ago.

    Vikir stuck to the magic wall that surrounded the arena and looked inside.

    He saw a small ball of fur in the corner of the arena.

    A cub. It was hiding among the rubble of the copse, whimpering.

    It was too small and insignificant for anyone to notice, but it was clearly being detected by the Life Response of the Magic Stone.

    ''When I took the test, the life response wasn''t detected... Was that because it was overly starved?''

    During Vikir''s test, the starving cub had ingested a lot of poison all at once, and had even shed skin in the process.

    It must have gotten quite a bit of life force into it, and had been caught in the magic stone''s life detection magic.

    Vikir covered his face with his hands.

    In the end, it was the greed of the little bastard to eat more poison that caused this.

    And so it ate and ate and ate, until suddenly it realized that its master, Vikir, was gone, and it hid in a corner of the magic wall and wept like that.

    In the distance, he sees the professors scrambling.

    "No, well, who''s going to be in charge!"

    "Let''s divide up the jurisdiction first, then!"

    "Alright, let''s dismantle the magic wall first! Can''t we get a hold of Professor Sady yet?"

    "These people! Didn''t you hear that there''s an imperial family among the first years! What a disgrace!"

    Dolores even stamped her foot and red at the magic stone in the distance.

    If this continues, I''m really going to have an ident.

    Vikir stroked his chin.

    ''If the magic wall is dismantled and a full search begins, they''ll find the cub. It can''t be allowed to happen.''

    This is why spider education must be straightforward.

    Vikir headed for the edge of the stadium, out of sight of the crowd, thinking that he would have to give the cub a good scoldingter.

    Tsutsutsutsuts...

    Vikir wore a picaresque mask on his face.

    ck steam billowed out of it, and Vikir''s body shrank.

    Vikir looks up into the puddle of water on the floor and sees a ck puppy, wrapped in a ck cloak, pacing around.

    Hodadak.

    Turned into a dog, Vikir scooped up his clothes and ran, heading northwest of the Magic Wall.

    Before regression, Vikir had stayed at the Academy as a bodyguard and messenger to assist Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro, and through that experience, he had some knowledge of this magic wall.

    ''There is a gap in the lower northwest corner of the magic wall.''

    I''ve been to Baskerville a lot.

    The triplets, Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro, were also the type of people who held a lot of personal grudges here and there for fear of being recognized as Baskerville.

    As a result, they were often attacked when they were at the academy, even when they were taking tests in the arena.

    At the time, an assassin had dug a tunnel to the bottom of the magic wall and slipped through a threadlike gap in the lower northwest corner, targeting the Highbro, Mibro, and Lowbro.

    Later, the professors inspecting the magic wall were speechless as to how they had found this gap, which required digging about seven meters underground.

    Whatever. Vikir had turned into a dog and was digging a tunnel into the lower part of the magic wall.

    As he dug, he saw a small crack at the end of the wall. It was as he remembered.

    Vikir squeezed through and was able to enter the magic wall with ease.

    ''The dog''s small size is an advantage.''

    Once through the magic wall, the rest was easy.

    Vikir removed his mask and returned to his human form.

    Woodduck.

    A scream echoes through his body as he growsrger in the narrow cave.

    But Vikir''s body, strengthened by the protection of the River Styx and his immense mana, pushes through the dirt to gain space.

    Vikir who quickly got dressed, pushed off the ground with his legs and came out onto the ground, breaking the stone floor of the stadium.

    "...."

    As he poked his head out of the ground, his vision was bathed in green. It was the paralyzing poison from the ant golem.

    ''With a fog this thick, it''s hard to see in from the outside.''

    Vikir was d he couldn''t see much beyond the magic wall.

    If he couldn''t see out from here, he probably couldn''t see in from there either.

    ''Okay, then....''

    The first thing Vikir did in the green, poisonous haze that surrounded him was to catch the hatchling.

    But he didn''t have to go looking for it.

    [...!]

    When the cub spotted Vikir, it ran to him and clung to the back of his hand.

    Boo-boo-boo- swish-

    Vikir couldn''t help but furrow his brow as he asked where it had been.

    "Look at this asshole''s ass. Shameless little bastard."

    Retrieving the cub, Vikir took a step forward, knowing that he would have to give it a solid educationter.

    For now, the immediate need was to rescue Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca.

    Vikir realized that the dense poisonous fog made it difficult to see from the outside.

    He immediately fed an arrow to his bow.

    It was only a supply bow and arrows, but with Bk''s archery skills and Vikir''s mana, it would be a siege weapon.

    Puff-puff-puff!

    Vikir''s rapid-fire arrows began to swat away the ants.

    Whether they''re worker ants or soldier ants, Vikir''s arrows crush them in an instant.

    After a few strokes, the path opened up and Vikir could see Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca in the depths ahead.

    "...V, Vikir?"

    Tudor''s face is nk, like he''s seen a ghost.

    So did Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca.

    Vikir didn''t say anything, just walked to the front of his friends.

    ''You all look so weak.''

    I want to tell them to get out through the tunnel, but they''re too exhausted to move.

    Piggy, in particr, has been poisoned with paralyzing poison and can barely lift a finger.

    In the meantime, the giant ants began to surround Vikir.

    <Killer Ant (Worker Ant)

    Danger Rating: C

    Size: 1 meter

    Found in: Large colonies

    -Name ''worker ant''

    The mostmon form of the killer ant species.

    They are the foremost burrowers and perform a variety of duties, including scout, assault, and nursery.

    Armed with a hard and durable exoskeleton and powerful pincer jaws, they are known to dig deep burrows that extend from the human realm to Hell.

    <Killer Ants (Soldier Ants)

    Danger Rating : B+.

    Size: 5 meters

    Found in: Large Colonies �C Filthy Spawning Grounds

    -Also known as the ''soldier ant''

    It was found that some individuals of this species have mutated, resulting in a massive body size and a more sturdy exoskeleton.

    They are the ultimate manifestation of killer ant colony evolution and are not found in normal anthills, but in veryrge anthills or colonies of killer ants that have been left unattended for too long.

    Countless worker ants clink their jaws, which are likerge garden shears.

    In between, there are soldier ants that can take on up to a thousand worker ants.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca shouted at Vikir''s back in the face of this army of ants.

    "Vikir, it''s reckless! You''re not going to win!"

    " ... Thanks foring with us, but we''re screwed."

    "For God''s sake, run, Vikir!"

    "You idiot, you''ll get yourself killed!"

    Everyone''s attitude is one of despair and near hopelessness.

    But Vikir didn''t move from his spot.

    Kirik.

    He merely pulled away from the protest.

    And then.

    "...uh!?"

    Everyone''s eyes began to turn in astonishment.

 Chapter 183: Midterm Random Defense (7)

    <h4>Chapter 183: Midterm Random Defense (7)</h4>

    In the darkness.

    A child stood alone.

    ''Get out.''

    The voice of a middle-aged man.

    A memory from a distant past he didn''t even recognize.

    ''This scum is not my blood.''

    The voice was bitterly cold.

    It is followed by the sobs of a mother.

    ''You lowly thing, you don''t even know what you''re talking about.''

    ''Get him out of here now.

    ''... ... get rid of him.

    The sobs are followed by a chorus of chatter around the room.

    The child''s vision shifts several times after that.

    A fleeing mother, forests and mountains, pursuers, steep cliffs, raging rivers, hungry wolves, and the startled faces of passing merchants and mercenaries.

    Time passes, and so do memories.

    His mother, who never smiled and always looked at him with a sad expression.

    The stepfather who was always there tofort and support him, and to give his son the love he deserved.

    In the face of my father''s dedicated efforts, my mother was gradually able to smile.

    The house, which had always been narrow, dark, and musty, slowly became wider, brighter, and warmer.

    The things that went into his mouth gradually changed from harsh things with a sour smell to sweet and soft things.

    And so began a life worth envying.

    A mother''s pride, a father''s hope.

    Now, for the sake of his mother''s newfound happiness, and to repay his father''s dedication, the child chose a challenge of his own.

    Enrollment in the Colosseo Academy.

    It was the result of his own hard work,bined with his father''s life''s savings.

    His mother was nervous that he would be enrolled in a school that attracted only the best and brightest in the Empire.

    His father smiled from ear to ear as he spent his life''s savings on a life of luxury.

    He thought, ''I''m going to make my parents happy by being a good student here.''

    He wanted to show his mother, who was full of misery, and his father, who had dedicated his life to making her happy.

    But things didn''t go so well.

    At his first school, he was bullied. This was due to his timid nature.

    When he went to a regr school outside, he was a leader, active, and achieved excellent results in various sports, but here in Colosseo, where only the most talented people in the empire gather, he was just an inferior student.

    His brilliant mind and rtively weak body have failed him in tests.

    Even now, he was in danger of losing his life.

    And now, pushed to the limit, his mind is reying the earliest sights and sounds he can remember.

    ''Get out. This scum is not my blood.''

    shlight.

    With his body and mind pushed to the limit, the child struggles, barely holding on to a sense of identity that is about to explode.

    Just then.

    ''It''s okay now.''

    A voice came out of nowhere.

    It had a greater effect than any other magic in the world, instantly dissipating the child''s physical and emotional pain.

    No more birth anxiety, no more guilt for his parents, no more sense of duty as a child, no more studying, no more loneliness for not being able to make friends, no more physical pain, just one word to relieve it all.

    It was the constion of a friend.

    "...uh!?"

    The child opened his eyes.

    The first thing he saw were three faces.

    "Hey, Piggy! Are you okay! Breathe, Piggy! Breathe! Come on, breathe, don''t die!"

    "Okay, he''s breathing again, my northern warrior CPR is working...!"

    "Hey, shut up and pump his chest, now, and you get to massaging his limbs!"

    Tudor, Sancho, and Bianca. I can see my friends looking down at me, their faces covered in tears and snot.

    Tudor''s emotions are always high, but I''m surprised to see even Sancho and Bianca crying.

    Piggy woke up with a groan.

    His ribs were cracked. Maybe even broken.

    But even through the pain, Piggy moved to find someone.

    "Vikir! Vikir! Vikir!"

    Tudor, Sancho, and Bianca''s expressions changed strangely.

    Suddenly, the eyes of the four friends focused on one ce.

    And there it was.

    Pow! Puff! Puff-puff-puff-puff!

    You see the back of Vikir, who is furiously shooting ants with his bow.

    * * *

    ''Hmm. At this rate, I should be able to catch them even if I''m only using the strength of an Expert level.''

    Vikir thought as he pierced the skull of one of the soldier ants with a single shot.

    He didn''t even need to pull out his Graduator Aura.

    Because....

    ''I''ve got a knack for killing ants anyway.''

    Vikir knows all of the strategies for killing ants that are currently unknown.

    Giggle- giggle- giggle-

    A swarm of killer ants swarms around Vikir and targets him.

    But Vikir stays calm and shoots an arrow into the ant''s thoracic te, the area between its head and chest.

    Surprisingly, the destroyed ants begin to move backwards instead of forwards.

    The ants that had been swarming forward began to walk backward, causing great confusion in the swarm.

    As Vikir watched, he realized that the golem was an exquisite imitation of a real killer ant.

    It must have been created by a skilled mage.

    ''Killer ants have a biopass right here. If it breaks, it''s over.''

    This is a method of dealing with monsters that humans don''t know about now, and won''t be discovered for another 20 years.

    Before Vikir''s return, humanity was puzzling over how the killer ants could find their way back home from so long a distance.

    If they could figure it out, it would be a great way to bring back warriors who had fallen in the fight against demons.

    And after countless years of tireless research, humans eventually figured it out.

    Killer ants were known to find their way around by spraying pheromones or memorizing the shape of majorndforms, but that didn''t exin their ability to find their way home after a storm washed away the pheromones or an earthquake altered thendscape.

    It has now been confirmed that even baby ants that have just left the nest for the first time are able to find their way home.

    In fact, the killer ants'' ability to navigate so precisely is due to a maic fieldpass built into their bodies.

    No matter where they are, they can calcte exactly where they stand, where they want to go, and how many steps they need to take by integrating aplex function of mana along the way.

    This extremely precise biopass, which can even detect prization �C the rotation of the direction of the force field when sunlight hits it �C keeps the killer ants pointed in the right direction at all times.

    And then.

    Poof! Pow! Pow! Pow! Pow!

    Vikir wasn''t killing the ants, he was just picking out and destroying their biopasses.

    The killer ants, with their broken sense of direction, ran backwards, blocking the path of those behind them, and were crushed to death.

    "What''s next... Is it a soldier?"

    Vikir lifted his head and stared at the giant ants in front of him.

    How could he forget those murderous, heavily armored creatures?

    The Battle of the Basin in the Great Colony, with so many casualties. That nightmare in the anthill.

    The monsters that had exploited the worker ants'' weaknesses and turned the tide of battle in an instant, baffling the victorious Allied forces.

    ''If you go down into the depths of the anthill, into the Catbs, they scurry around like normal ants, though I don''t know if they even exist today.''

    The soldier ant is a dangerous creature, simr in danger rating to the hellhounds you''ve faced before.

    It''s so strong that even elite warriors at the upper ranks of the Sword Expert can''t fight it 1:1.

    But of course, even such a beast has its weaknesses.

    Just as you can trap a hellhound with chocte, you can trap a soldier ant with a trick.

    "You just have to find the right point."

    Vikir focused his attention on the arrow.

    He needed to concentrate even more since he only had to use the aura of an intermediate to advanced Sword Expert.

    Of course, the gas aura used by the Sword Expert and the gas aura used by the Graduator are on a different level in terms of their proficiency.

    The same bread knife wielded by a child and an experienced chef will produce different results.

    Shhh-

    Vikir''s gas aura flies in a dark red trajectory, like a cherry at the end of an arrow.

    And it goes.

    peo-eog!

    It pierced right through the center of the soldier ant''s head, instantly knocking the giant monster to the ground.

    ''The soldier ants are so realistic.''

    Vikir smiled faintly at the sight of his single arrow.

    ''Their strength is their skull, which is broad and t like a shield, and specialized for headbutting.

    Everyone knows this.

    But paradoxically, few realize that the creature''s weakness lies in its skull.

    This sneaky ant hides its weaknesses in what should be its greatest strength.

    "The powerful skull encloses the left and right brains, separately. The only weaknesses are the connecting hippocampus and the cartges that cover it.

    The skull of the soldier ant is divided into two pieces, with the connecting link at the bottom of the center.

    That soft carapace, about half the size of your little fingernail, is the vital area.

    An ant that is pierced in this ce copses the coordination system between the left and right brains and dies, literally ''splitting in half''.

    The body is still intact, but the neural and sensoryworks have been destroyed, and the ant just lies there, unable to move.

    Vikir stepped over the dead soldier ants and continued to fire arrows at them.

    If there is an ant that breaks through the defense line and approaches, it mercilessly cuts off its neck with the dagger on its thigh.

    His appearance was that of a veteran soldier who had spent decades on the battlefield, and with the mana of a Sword Expert, he was truly a military god.

    ...Puck! ...Puck! ...Puck!

    The ants continue to die from the flying arrows.

    By now, far more were being crushed by their fellows than by Vikir''s arrows.

    With their biopasses broken, the ants are starting to run backwards, and with the corpses of the giant troopers in the way, the monster waves can''t really get going.

    Furthermore, the paralyzing poison that the ants spewed was being inhaled by the cubs, so it''s no wonder that the poisonous fog was concentrated around Vikir.

    Vikir climbed up the carcasses of the troopers as a rampart, wiping out the ants in front of him, and when he ran out of arrows, he moved forward to retrieve the ones in front of him.

    He would then climb up the body of a soldier ant further in front of him and kill another, and another, and another.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca, who were watching from the rear, muttered in a daze.

    "... This isn''t a dream, is it?"

    The third phase, the one that even third-year seniors struggle with, had already passed.

    ... but.

    -Join forces with your teammates to defend against the onught of killer ants!

    Time remaining until the end of Phase 3: 0 minutes, 0 seconds.

    1. Vikir

    HP: 100/100

    Kill point: 968

    Assist point: 5,321

    Vikir isn''t just holding his own, he''s pushing back the line itself!

 Chapter 184: Aftermath (1)

    <h4>Chapter 184: Aftermath (1)</h4>

    It was onlyter that Professor Sady, who had the magic wall B key, was discovered.

    She had been found in a drunken state in a back alley bar outside the academy, only because the barkeep had reported her for vandalism and disturbing the peace.

    Professor Morg Banshee looked down in disgust at Professor Sady who was being carried in drunkenly.

    "Retrieve the keys at once. And open the magic wall."

    And with that, the situation was finally under control.

    The rescue took 42 minutes and 13 seconds.

    By the time the magic wall was dissolved and the professors rushed inside, it was all over.

    The professors didn''t want the outside world to know that they werete because of jurisdictional and liability issues, so they exaggerated Vikir''s heroism even more.

    The story of what could have been a catastrophe was dropped and all the focus was on the fact that the academy had the most heroic first-year student in its history.

    Meanwhile, Vikir responded briefly to the flood of interview requests.

    "It was a team effort, a group of friends."

    Due to the toxic fog that filled the stadium, people were unable to see the details of what was happening inside.

    But we do know that Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and others who wereter rescued spoke out about Vikir''s heroism.

    Meanwhile.

    Vikir''s ability to reach Sword Expert rank caused a stir around the school.

    Attention was also drawn to how he had managed to ace the defense game with this power, which was strong enough for an 18-year-old, but still insufficient to kill arge number of worker ants and soldier ants.

    Vikir readily shared the secret.

    "I think you can find it in my midterm exam written answer sheet."

    The midterms are divided into a practical and a written portion, with the practical consisting of defense and attack, and the written portion consisting of free research and an essay.

    For his free-research paper, Vikir chose the topic of killer ant strategies, and he had written about the weaknesses of worker ants and soldier ants in his report.

    The worker ant''s biopass, which detects magic fields, and a vital point in the skull of a soldier ant.

    This information would have been incredibly helpful to Imperial armies out in the wilderness ying monsters.

    It''s a treasure chest of tactics that can dramatically reduce the casualty rate ofmon soldiers and mercenaries, especially those without mana.

    A new strategy for the low- to mid-tier monsters that caused the most damage to humanity.

    After this was announced, not only the Academy, but the entire Capital, and even the entire Empire, began to tremble.

    The result.

    "Who is Vikir? The Commander wants to see you."

    "His Highness the Crown Prince has sent a letter ofmendation."

    "The head of the Magical Research Institute wants to meet him...."

    At least within the Academy, there were almost no people who didn''t know Vikir.

    * * *

    night sky. The rooftop of a dormitory on a quiet night.

    [Exclusive] Hot Star of the Year �C Vikir, who is he!? / Views: 129,872

    -A boy''s performance at the Cold Warrior ss''s practical evaluation at around 11 a.m. yesterday became the talk of the town... The person who received the award was a freshman Vikir (18), who just entered the school this year... He dug a tunnel and jumped into the poisonous fog to help his four friends in crisis... He set an example for the others by being a man of action... and by discovering a strategy for the ''Killer Ant'' that was previously unknown... Meanwhile, Vikir''s performance was recognized with a whopping 9,889 points in the practical evaluation, a new record in the academy''s history, given that it was set by a single person...

    ?(Cold ss 1st year): Wow;; I thought Vikir was just good at studying, but he''s an excellent student. ???

    ??(Hot ss 2nd year): I was there too. But I barely saw it because of the poisonous fog. ??

    ??(Hot ss 1st year): Wow, that''s too much exaggeration~~^^ Typical star making~~

    ???(Cold ss 1st year): If I didn''t see it myself, I would have said ??

    ???(Hot ss 1st year): Even His Highness the crown prince would look for it, but this...?

    ??? (Cold ss 1st year): He''s just amoner, what kind of star is he?

    ???(Cold ss 1st year): Rumor has it that there''s a royal among the 20th ss...?

    ???(Hot ss 1st year): No way 22222222...

    ???(Cold ss 2nd year): No way33333333...

    ??(Cold ss 1st year): Isn''t 9889 points a true story??? That''s a record he set alone????

    ???(Cold ss 1st year): I thought you knew the strategy.

    ??? (Hot ss 3rd year): But no matter what, that''s just too good;;;;

    ???(Cold ss 3rd year): I wonder if that score is possible even with a 4-person graduating ss....

    ??? (Hot ss 4th year): Yes, it is possible. Now I know that strategy haha.

    ???(Hot ss 3rd year): You don''t know Columbus''s egg? It''s hard at first, but after that it''s easy~

    ??(Cold ss 1st year): He''s going to be a superstar from tomorrow ??? I should get his autograph already.

    .

    .

    .

    Vikir crumpled the newspaper.

    "...Yikes."

    In a matter of minutes, he had be a school celebrity.

    Somehow, it was getting farther and farther away from Vikir''s intentions.

    "This is all because of you."

    Vikir frowned at the young madam, who was hanging from the roof railing, knitting.

    [hack-hack-hack-]

    But the cub, who had just finished eating to the point of bursting at the seams,id down on its belly in front of Vikir''s face as if it was happy.

    Vikir sighed and scratched the cub''s belly.

    Then.

    pudeudeog-

    The thing he''d been waiting for had arrived.

    A white owl flew across the night sky and perched on the railing in front of Vikir.

    It was a letter from Sindiwendi, arriving just in time for the appointment.

    fluttering-

    Vikir plucked the letter from the owl''s leg and read it.

    The letter is encrypted and cannot be decrypted except by Vikir.

    1. 10th Commandment. Information obtained. Time needed to analyze. A month.

    2. The Night Hound. Two impersonators appear. One for praise. The other, purpose unknown.

    3. Osiris of the House of Baskerville. Family crest emptied. Supposedly headed to the ecliptic Imperial Capital.

    After interpreting the keywords, we see that there are three pieces of information listed in order of importance.

    The first was about the ten demons (now eight) that Vikir was chasing.

    Sindiwendi thought she had a clue about the third demon that Vikir would be hunting.

    ''However, since I am a very cautious person, it seems like it will take a month to determine whether it is true or not.''

    But the information was reliable enough.

    Vikir decided to wait patiently.

    After all, thest Dantalian hunt had taught him that taking on a demon of Demon King ss one-on-one would be too much for him.

    ''Until then, I must diligently develop my skills.''

    Vikir realized that he needed to extend his time as a Night Hound.

    There is nothing better than actual practice to develop your skills.

    ... but.

    ''A copycat?''

    The second piece of information took a moment.

    Apparently, there are two copycats of the Night Hound.

    This was something that Vikir had more or less guessed.

    It was a newspaper article from a while back.

    [Exclusive] The Night Hound Strikes Again!? / Views: 74,609

    -At around 1 a.m. yesterday morning, the Night Hound began to terrorize again.

    The ce that was destroyed was the ''Central Clock Tower'', andmark of the ecliptic. This building, which boasts a long history, is a symbol of imperial power and at the same time contains the legacy of the previous emperor, Peha, who wanted to present the standards of imperial order... ... Meanwhile, the number of deaths due to this terrorist attack is... ... The imperial family dered that they would put this rare and heinous criminal to death by any means necessary... ...

    [HBO] The worst viin, the Night Hound, how far does his evil go? / Views: 89,269

    -The Hound of the Night has struck again.

    After destroying the Central Clock Tower at around 1:00am, the Night Hound ravaged the Royal Cemetery at around 4:00am.

    The Royal Cemetery is a sanctuary where the brave and fierce generals of the previous era who unified the empire rest, so the fact that they attacked this ce was a heinous act that was tantamount to a deration of war against the entire empire, and indeed the entire human race... ... Meanwhile, the number of remains damaged or lost due to this terrorist attack is enormous, and the exact damage has not yet been calcted... ...

    Note that the times mentioned in the article were all around the time Vikir was writing his report for his midterm.

    What Vikir didn''t do was med on the Night Hound.

    " ... It''s a copycat."

    A copycat is a criminal who copies a criminal''s behavior when they be famous.

    The reasons for copying vary from praise, sympathy, support, rivalry, and cover-ups, but even Sindiwendi hadn''t quite figured out the needs of copycats yet.

    "One is praising the Night Hound,... and the other is aimless. Hmmm."

    Vikir stroked his chin with his hand.

    It was to be expected that the Night Hound would be so infamous that there would be copycats.

    Most of the copycats were quickly arrested, so he hadn''t given it much thought.

    However, the two copycats mentioned in the newspaper article and Sindiwendi''s letter are different.

    The force they had seemed to be considerable, and so was their deliberate action.

    It was clear that the two copycats mentioned by Sindiwendi were probably the same as the real criminals pointed out in this newspaper article.

    It was not very pleasing to Vikir that two strong and cunning viins appeared at the same time

    Not only would it raise the imperial rm, but it could also lead to ovepping activity.

    " ... I''ll have to take a look at the site, see what they''re like."

    Vikir finished reading the letter.

    The rest of the letter was of little interest to Vikir, such as the fact that Osiris Les Baskervilles, the head of the Baskerville family and Hugo''s eldest son, was away from home.

    Vikir burned the letter with an aura on the tip of his fingernail and sent the ashes into the wind.

    Just then.

    A voice caught Vikir''s attention as he leaned against the rooftop railing, reading the newspaper.

    "...?"

    Vikir slowly turned his head.

    A familiar short cut hair, silver hair blowing in the night breeze, shining brightly under the Milky Way.

    Sinir, head of the Hot ss.

    Considering the ce and time, it was a somewhat unexpected meeting.

 Chapter 185: Aftermath (2)

    <h4>Chapter 185: Aftermath (2)</h4>

    "...?"

    A pale face with no makeup, short silver hair that hadn''t dried, and the faint scent of shampoo still lingering in the air.

    Sinir, amoner with nost name, just a first name. However, she is the one who holds the top spot in the Hot ss with overwhelming grades.

    "...."

    Vikir didn''t answer, just twitched one eyebrow.

    It was a rather unexpected encounter, considering the time and ce.

    Why would she be here, at this time, in this ce?

    The question was soon revealed.

    "You know too, hyung? This is a famous spot for the Milky Way."

    Sinir smiled broadly and held out something to Vikir. It was a small can of beer.

    Phew.

    Sinir opened the beer and quickly brought the foam to her lips.

    Sinir, whose white beard suddenly grew, grinned and handed Vikir a beer as well.

    "Two cans, but I''ll get you a special one."

    "...Thanks."

    Vikir hesitated for a moment before epting the beer.

    "I didn''t expect to see you here at this time of night. I thought I had the ce to myself. I alwayse here when I''m in a bad mood and look at the Milky Way."

    Sinir suddenly seemed to be in a better mood.

    Something had happened, it seemed.

    But Vikir had something else on his mind.

    ''... This was a dangerous ce. I think I''ll have to change my meeting point with Sindiwendi.''

    From now on, she thinks, ''If Ie to this ce, I might run into him from time to time.''

    And the man thinking, ''I should nevere to this ce again.''

    It was a rather ironic dream.

    Just then, Sinir put down her beer can and took an interest in the owl sitting next to Vikir.

    "An owl? How cute. Did you get a letter?"

    [All-pam].

    "Ahahaha, that''s an unusual cry."

    Sinir gently stroked the owl''s round head.

    Then she looked back at Vikir.

    "Did you get a letter?"

    "Mmm."

    "To whom?"

    "...."

    Not knowing what else to call her, Vikir remained silent.

    Then Sinir''s eyes narrowed.

    "You''re a girl?"

    The owl''s head had a greenish-gold ribbon in it, the color of Sindiwendi''s hair.

    Vikir nodded silently, knowing that it was indeed a girl.

    Sinir''s expression hardened slightly.

    "Wow~ I see a rtionship on academy, hyung. You''re confident that your grades won''t drop while dating, right? Is it good to do CC? Well, who among freshmen doesn''t have a dream of bing a CC? ... ."

    "It''s not like that."

    Vikir briefly dismissed Sinir''sment.

    Vikir''s adamant denial of a romantic rtionship caused Sinir to pause for a moment, then exhale.

    It was an oddly relieved sigh.

    "Hyung, if... this is a secret rtionship and you''re hiding it from me, I''m really disappointed. We''re supposed to be able to talk about things like this between us, we''re best friends. If that''s the case, do you need to tell me? really!"

    ...best friends? Vikir didn''t understand, but didn''t bother to ask.

    After that, Sinir chattered and told many different stories to himself.

    Vikir was a little surprised, as she wasn''t usually this talkative at school.

    Sinir waved her half-finished beer wistfully, then spoke up as if she''d had an idea.

    "Oh. Hyung, what is your rtionship with the president?"

    When Sinir said President, she meant Student Council President Dolores.

    If asked what his rtionship with Dolores was, Vikir could confidently answer with one word.

    "Nothing."

    "I didn''t think so?"

    Sinir narrowed her eyes and elbowed Vikir in the side.

    "If it''s no rtionship, why has the chairman been looking for you like that for the past few days?"

    "?"

    Vikir''s eyes widened as if he''d never heard of it before.

    Why is Dolores looking for him?

    He''s had too many meetingstely.

    To the principal, to the president, to the ledger, to the director, to the president, to the so-and-so, to the so-and-so... ... I was just getting stressed out about why so many people were looking for it.

    Even the crown prince said he would give me amendation.

    " ... I don''t have time to study, let alone assassinate.''

    Sindiwendi''sment that it would take a month to analyze the information was almost considered good news.

    Sinir shrugged.

    "I don''t know. Anyway, President Dolores has been secretly looking for youtely."

    "Then that''s why she came to the archery range, to find me."

    "Eh? Why didn''t you see her?"

    " ... We crossed paths."

    I can''t tell her that I turned into a dog, hid, and then ran away to avoid being neutered, so I give her a quick aside.

    Sinir nodded and drained the rest of the beer.

    Phew.

    The burnt barley scent of the ck beer spreads across the night sky.

    She leaned against the railing, propping her chin with her hand, looking somewhat helpless.

    "I envy you."

    "?"

    Vikir folds his arms and shakes his head.

    Sinir smirked, wiping the beer foam from the corner of her mouth with her thumb.

    "Hyung, you''re always like that."

    "?"

    "Not asking first. It''s my style."

    Vikirughed softly at Sinir''sment.

    Born to be a hound, bred to be a hound, Vikir is not used to questioning anyone.

    It was a hound''s virtue to stand still and wait for his master to speak first.

    Are you tired of people always approaching you first and making noise?

    Perhaps Vikir''s attitude struck a different chord with Sinir.

    "The reason I said I was jealous... ... I just said that because I was jealous of my hyung."

    "Is that so?"

    "Yeah. We''re in the same ss and there''s a huge gap between us."

    Sinir looked back at Vikir with a puzzled gaze.

    A first-year student who ranked first in his ss and had already published three or four research papers that would shake up the academic world.

    A monstrous irregr, far beyond the level of a typical undergraduate.

    For example, the level of a first-year undergraduate student is as follows.

    -Professor: Today''s lecture is on how to eat salmon deliciously~.

    -First-year undergraduate student 1: Wow, what''s wrong with salmon?

    -First-year undergraduate student 2: Is salmon edible or not?

    -First-year undergraduate student 3: What is flounder for?

    And then by the end of the fourth year, it''s a little different.

    -Professor: Today I''m going to lecture you on how to eat salmon deliciously~.

    -Fourth-year undergraduate student 1: ....

    -Professor: ....

    -Fourth-year undergraduate student 1: ....

    -Professor: What are you doing, you''re not going to catch salmon.

    First and fourth years are worlds apart in terms of the depth of subject matter covered.

    But Vikir was already far beyond the level of even this fourth-year student, and had reached the level of a graduate student, or even a professor.

    And what about his practical grades?

    Vikir, who had been suspected of being a Beginner, let alone an Expert, revealed his hidden Expert level skills.

    It was a level that was unimaginable for someone from amoner''s background, one that was on par with, and perhaps even better than, the greatte-period experts of the Seven Families.

    "Written and practical. You''re a man to be reckoned with, hyung."

    "...."

    "I hear you''ve already been meeting with celebrities a generation or two above you. Everyone''s jealous."

    Vikir was annoyed by it, but to others, it seemed like it was something they needed and wanted.

    But Vikir knew better.

    "...."

    Money? Power? Honor? All of those things will be worthless rubbish when the Age of Destruction begins.

    When that happens, all existing order will crumble and all values will be overturned.

    As a great writer once said, ''an era in which survival bes a cheap joke'' will soon arrive.

    "It''s all for nothing."

    At Vikir''s words, Sinir shakes her head again.

    "You''re not of this world, sometimes."

    The words made Vikir''s chest heat up a little.

    Sinir smiled again.

    "The way you talk, you sound so old �C no one would ever think you''re 18! Then, why don''t you leave this world and go into hiding somewhere?"

    With a clink, the empty beer can crunches.

    Sinir ced it in the palm of her hand and drew on her mana.

    Crunch!

    A white-hot me bursts forth, melting the beer can.

    It soon takes on a new appearance thanks to the mana of the iron attribute.

    A rabbit with a pocket watch, an borate metal figurine, rests in Sinir''s palm.

    "By the way, did you hear the rumor?"

    Sinir said, fingering the rabbit.

    "This time, I mean, among the ssmates of the ss of 20, a royal family member whose identity was hidden entered the school."

    "Isn''t that just gossip circting in the stock market?"

    "...Hmmm, well, what do you think?"

    Sinir replied in a somewhat questioning tone.

    "If it''s imperial blood, it''s probably not normal talent, since it''s descended from the first emperor who was a great prophet, right?"

    "...."

    "You shouldn''t stand out too much at the beginning of the semester, so you''ll have to keep your talents hidden, so it''s worth it to get in. Perhaps you''re looking to recruit someone to work with you? I think so."

    "...."

    "But you wouldn''t be able to hide your skills until the moment of truth, like if your close friends were in danger during a test."

    "Enough."

    Vikir dismissed Sinir''s words again.

    "I''m not royalty."

    "...I never said you were royalty."

    "?"

    Vikir scratched his head.

    Sinir merely smirked.

    It reminded Vikir of a certain scene.

    ''Come to think of it, Sinir, this woman was a mystery to me before.''

    Vikir remembered before the regression.

    After graduating from the Academy, Sinir lost contact with all of her ssmates and predecessors.

    She disappears from the world, from history, forever.

    Before the regression, the Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro, who had grown quite a bit older since graduating from the Academy, would often have conversations about "what Sinir is doing now?" and "she''s probably doing well somewhere, since she didn''t miss out on being Head of the Hot ss for four years," and "where did shee from and where did she go?".

    We would reminisce about the amazing grades and records she had set when she was a student at the academy.

    ...When Vikir was thinking about this.

    "Hey. What are you doing after midterms this time?"

    Sinir asked again.

    "We have a week off after midterms. Do you have any ns then?"

    "I do."

    "Like what?"

    "Back and lower body, and archery training."

    " ... Not workouts and training."

    Sinir stuck out her lips with a sullen expression.

    Then she spoke.

    "Come over to my ce when you''re free. Let''s have a meal."

    Sinir''s invitation was a bit of a surprise.

    Vikir raised one eyebrow.

    Come to think of it, Sinir had made a simr offer to Vikir once before.

    It was back when he was volunteering at an orphanage.

    Dantalian''s act of collecting donations for the parentless children, and Sinir and Vikir''s conversation went something like this, with Sinir asking him if he didn''t want to donate.

    "hyung. You don''t donate?''

    ''... I don''t have any money.''

    He said he didn''t really have any.

    Vikir had decided not to ept any support from the Baskervilles.

    However, it was not currently receiving financial support from Sindiwendi.

    He didn''t want to arouse any unnecessary suspicion with his cover as amoner.

    Anyway. Sinir was a bit puzzled at the time.

    ''Money? Why don''t you have any money? You''re a student at the Academy, aren''t you being a bit harsh? The poor kids here don''t have parents, and we should be helping them.''

    ''There is no need for parents.''

    "Huh?

    "They have to navigate the world on their own. Parents are only functional during childhood, when help from others is essential, but otherwise they are unnecessary.''

    Vikir''s thoughts were the same then as they are now.

    Why do I feel sorry for children in orphanages?

    They have everything they need to survive, except that their parents have been reced by state institutions.

    They get the nutrients they need and the education they deserve.

    It''s a much happier and morefortable life than being raised as a hound in Baskerville.

    The world is full of pain, something to be fought and ovee, and parents are just the initial guides to help with the first tutorials in that long fight.

    Vikir sees parents as merely functional, and that''s a natural value in the Baskervilles, where he''s lived his entire life, and in the Age of Destruction, where he''s lived half his life.

    But those who have lived through war and those who have not cannot understand each other.

    Vikir realized that he might seem a bit strange to those who had not yet lived through the Age of Destruction.

    So he had no expectations.

    ...However.

    "You have toe, okay?"

    Sinir looked at Vikir with a seriousness he hadn''t seen before.

    Instead of her usual curious and bubbly demeanor, it was heavy and wistful.

    She was looking at Vikir as if she understood and empathized with him.

    As she had in the past.

    "Now, if you''ll excuse me, it''s almost time for my shift!"

    Sinir dropped something in front of Vikir and walked toward the rooftop exit.

    ''She''s got a part-time job, at this hour?''

    Vikir tilted his head.

    But Sinir just smirked and waved.

    And then.

    ...bang!

    The rooftop door mmed shut.

    "...."

    Vikir turned his head to look at the object Sinir had set down in front of him.

    There was a rabbit with a pocket watch, scurrying about in a hurry, staring at him.

    Join Discord for notification:

 Chapter 186: Aftermath (3)

    <h4>Chapter 186: Aftermath (3)</h4>

    The midterm exam period, which felt long, is already halfway over.

    And one quiet afternoon, on the sunny terrace of a cafe.

    "I hear you''ve been very busytely."

    "It''s kind of like that."

    Dolores, the student council president, and Vikir, a first-year student, were having a conversation.

    As the head of the newspaper club, Dolores took advantage of this opportunity to honestly say things she had not been able to say before.

    "I''m really sorry about the pissing... incident, and I didn''t exin it in time and it got out of hand. And I''m so grateful that you stood up for me."

    "We can make mistakes, that''s what makes us human."

    Vikir nodded without thinking.

    Just then.

    "...!"

    Dolores froze for a moment when she heard Vikir''s response.

    Suddenly, a voice echoed in her ears.

    ''We can make mistakes. That''s what makes us human.''

    To her surprise, it was theforting voice of the Night Hound she had heard that night.

    The samefort for the same worry, but from a different person. Could this be a coincidence?

    ''...Sure, it''s a coincidence.''

    Doloresughed a little at the ridiculousness of her own fleeting thought.

    It''s aforting thought. It could happen to anyone, she thought.

    Whatever.

    Dolores had organized this to help the juniors in the club before their uing attack test.

    Vikir tilted his head.

    "The genealogy you passed on to me through Piggy the other day has helped me prepare well for the written test. Thank you."

    Since strategies for ''killer ants'' oftene up in the notes, and studying them can be used as a secondary skill in defense games, it''s a good idea to research killer ants when choosing a topic for free research in the first ce.

    It saves you from having to study them twice.

    But Dolores shook her head with a faint smile.

    "Genealogy. Every other third year has one. Mine is just a little more organized than the others, nothing special, and I admire you for doing legendary research with it."

    "Yeah. You''re like that too."

    " ... You''re being honest, too."

    Dolores smirked at Vikir''s casual admission.

    It was starting to look like this new kid''s cockiness wasing into its own.

    "Anyway, I called you here because I wanted to give you some advice for your uing attack test. I don''t think you''ll need it, seeing as how you''re shooting a bow in your defense test, but just in case."

    Once again, Dolores exined the structure of the midterm.

    "Like I said, the midterm is 10% written, 50% defense, and 40% attack."

    As of yesterday, the 10% written portion of the midterm and the 50% defense portion of the midterm werepleted, leaving only the 40% attack portion of the midterm.

    The written portion of the exam is actually not that important, only about 10% of the total score, but the defense and attack portions are 50% and 40% respectively.

    While the defense test is yed in teams of four, the attack test is solely solo performance.

    The structure of the attack test is very simple.

    It''s a one-on-one, "professor vs. student" match.

    The rules of the test are also much simpler than the defense test: you fight a golem controlled by a professor and win.

    The test golem is a typical entry-level stone golem with one head, one body, tworge arms, and two legs.

    What makes it special is that the professors, who are experts inbat, control the golems with their own bodies.

    The golem mimics the movements of the professor from a distance.

    When a student faces a golem that moves in exactly the same way, at the same speed, and with the samebat style as the professor, they can''t help but feel like they''re fighting the professor directly.

    However, since the opponent is a golem, the student is able to deploy the best kills he or she can, and the significance of this is that the student''s truebat power can be measured.

    Students have to fight against the professor, who is a master ofbat, but they can feel the realism of real life through a confrontation with a strong opponent.

    The rules were designed to minimize the number of casualties, as the professors would be unable to respond to the many variables created by so many students.

    Dolores held up her index and middle fingers in a serious manner.

    "First of all, there are two problems with your attack test."

    Dolores folded her index finger.

    "First, archers are at a disadvantage when facing a golem one-on-one."

    In the defense game, archers have an advantage.

    They can stand at a distance and score points while their teammates'' tanks either catch most of them or only asionally miss.

    But in attack, it''s different.

    Since it''s a 1v1 match, there are no tanks to line up in front of you, so you''re on your own.

    The moment you give the golem any distance, it''s over.

    Furthermore, the professor controlling the golem won''t be hurting himself, so he''ll just charge at you and you won''t be able to inflict any pain, so there''s no point in hitting him.

    This means that the only way for the archer to deal a fatal blow to the golem is to run here and there, creating distance and unleashing powerful arrows from time to time, which is impossible if they can''t keep up with the professor''s speed.

    So what archers gain on the defense test, they lose on the attack test, and that''s how the whole thing bnces out.

    ... But Dolores wasn''t done worrying yet.

    She raised her middle finger, still looking serious.

    "Second. The professor who will be in charge of you is... that ''Professor Sady''."

    Vikir''s eyes narrowed at that.

    Professor Sady.

    His full name was Donatien Alphonse Fran?ois Sady de Sade.

    "You mean the pathetic professor who disappeared with the B-key to the Magic Wall and was found high and dry?"

    "...Yes."

    Dolores nodded with a deep sigh at Vikir''s question.

    Professor Sady. She''s technically a ''parachute'' figure.

    Thest lineage of the Marquis de Sade, who fell due to an unpleasant incident in the distant past and is now almost extinct.

    Unable to watch the descendants of a once noble nobleman be miserable, she was transferred from a lowly position in the imperial pce to a professorship at the academy, which is probably simr to the practice of giving honorary honors to nobles.

    Dolores shook her head.

    "She''s got a weird personality and a terrible work ethic, which makes her the number one professor to avoid among students. In fact, most of her sses are canceled forck of interest. I''ve been in a few of her sses, and nine times out of ten she cancels them without warning, and that''s first period in the morning. Oh, and the one time she did cancel, she did it with notice, so I never got to attend."

    When the good and gentle Dolores says something like this, it really says it all.

    In fact, Vikir also asionally heard Professor Banshee and other professors badmouth Professor Sady.

    She didn''t seem to have a very good reputation, even among the professors themselves.

    But Dolores, being the nice person that she is, had a few nice things to say about Professor Sady.

    "But one thing is for sure, she''s good at what she does. In addition to teaching at the Academy, she''s an advisor to the Imperial Guard on arrests and torture, and I hear she''s recently been helping the military track down criminals."

    " ...tracking criminals?"

    "Who else?"

    At Dolores'' words, Vikir nodded.

    "A criminal of extraordinary proportions who has shaken the entire empire. A viin so vicious that even the Empire''s military was mobilized.

    I speak of the Night Hound.

    ''... ... I guess there''s a tracer who looks like an idiot.''

    Vikir thought for a moment, then shook his head.

    From the sounds of it, Professor Sady was azy person who was very dissatisfied with life.

    Why would a drunkard like that, who lives her life by getting drunk and letting things slide, be so eager to capture the Night Hound?

    Vikir quickly pushed the thought of Professor Sady out of his mind.

    Dolores, however, was not to be deterred and continued her warning.

    "Professor Sady has one nasty habit: whenever she sees a talented student, she tries to ruin their path."

    "In what way?"

    "Well, she beats them so badly in the name of dueling that they be crippled... or she leaves them with severe ''post-traumatic stress disorder''... This is a rumor, but there are also rumors that she sexually traumatizes them, male or female. You should be careful."

    "Sexually?"

    "...Well, not the scores. Sexual stuff."

    "Why would she do that?"

    "I don''t know. They say it''s because she''s thest of a fallen marquise, so she has an inferiorityplex about the descendants of the now sessful family, but only she knows if that''s true."

    Professor Sadi is notorious for bullying students who are talented,e from noble families, pretty, handsome, or just in good.

    Now that Vikir had performed so well in his defense and written exams, it was likely that Professor Sady would target him.

    That worried Dolores to no end.

    Just then.

    "Good morning, it''s a beautiful day, isn''t it? Here''s your parfait and espresso!"

    A cheerful voice broke in between Vikir and Dolores.

    ...Clink!

    Cold and hot cups were ced on the table.

    And the part-time worker who brought them smiled broadly at Vikir and Dolores.

    She was Sinir.

    Dolores''s eyes widened and she asked.

    "Sinir, do you work here?"

    "Yes, Ms. President, only on weekend mornings! I was a recementst night and this afternoon."

    Beside Sinir, who answered cheerfully, was Bianca, who looked pale.

    Dolores asked them both.

    "Why are you two working here?"

    "Because tuition ising up soon! I need to earn money for school, hehe. The first year schrship doesn''t cover 100%, and I wanted to get some part-time cafe experience while I''m in school...."

    Sinir was still a cheerful high school student (��ѧ��).

    Bianca, on the other hand, had a simple reason.

    "I like their uniforms."

    Vikir scratched his head at that, but Dolores nodded in understanding.

    Meanwhile, Sinir set down the unordered biscuits and pies on the table.

    "This is a service under my authority! Hyung, do you like sweets?"

    "No, I don''t."

    "I''ll keep that in mind next time!"

    Sinir was still cheerful.

    She turned to Vikir as if she''d just remembered something.

    "Oh, by the way. Did hyung-ah pay his school fees this time?"

    "No."

    "When are you going to pay it?"

    "Hmm."

    Vikir stroked his chin.

    He''d been so busytely, he hadn''t thought about tuition.

    I''ve decided not to seek assistance from the Baskervilles, and it''ll be a while before I can contact the Sindiwendi, who have entered the Red and ck Depth to trade with the Bk.

    Much of the cost would be covered by the schrship anyway, so the immediate out-of-pocket expenses weren''t too great.

    So Vikir asked Sinir a question.

    "I have a question about this cafe."

    Vikir rarely asks a question first, so not only Sinir but also Dolores and Bianca turn to look at him.

    Finally, under the three women''s gaze, Vikir spoke briefly.

    "Do you have any men''s jobs?"

 Chapter 187: Aftermath (4)

    <h4>Chapter 187: Aftermath (4)</h4>

    With a midterm attack on the line, Vikir goes for a part-time job interview.

    When Sinir hears about Vikir''s financial situation, she immediately takes him to the boss''s office.

    Vikir silently thought to himself.

    ''It''s not time to use Sindiwendi''s money yet. It''s best not to make any contacts until ''the moment''es.

    Sindiwendy''s vast funds would be usedter. At a very important moment.

    Any contact with her must never be revealed until then, so it''s better to refrain from such petty mary transactions.

    The best way for the agents to be discovered was to follow the money trail.

    "..., a bourgeois family, I''ll leave it as a hidden card for them."

    Bikir muttered a little to himself.

    Then Sinir, who was walking slightly in front of him, turned her head with a puzzled expression.

    "Brother, what did you just say?"

    "Umm. Nothing."

    " ... Did I hear you wrong?"

    Sinir shook his head, then turned back to the topic at hand.

    "This cafe is the best thing ever. The pay is a little low, but it''s inside the academy, so there''s no gossip and the work is easy, and the boss lets me make whatever I want to eat if I have extra ingredients. It''s close to the dorms and the lecture hall, and there aren''t too many people at night, so I can study privately, although I can''t sleep, and the uniforms are pretty."

    Sinir quickly exined to Vikir the advantages of working at the cafe.

    She added in passing at the end.

    " ... I want you to work with my hyung. I think it would be fun."

    But.

    Contrary to Sinir''s expectations, the cafe owner was firm.

    "No way. We only hire girls."

    Mr. Pringles, the owner of ''Languid Noon, Moustache'', was a middle-aged gentleman with a bushy mustache.

    He had his own firm philosophy and beliefs about running a cafe, and one of them was that he only hired women for part-time jobs.

    He believed that only a woman''s meticulous and delicate hands could make the best coffee.

    Faced with a gender barrier, Vikir was inevitably rejected.

    But Sinir is a brave girl who doesn''t let walls stop her.

    She would break them down. With a weapon stronger than walls.

    "But boss, what does my hyung look like?"

    Sinir approached the back of Vikir, who was sitting on a chair, and stretched out her hands and almost hugged Vikir.

    Sinir''s hands pulled Vikir''s bangs up.

    Oof.

    The bangs fell back, revealing Vikir''s bare face.

    "...hoh. Now that''s a different story."

    Mr. Pringles stroked his mustache once slowly with his hand.

    Then, his mouth opened.

    "Minimum wage, three months'' probation. During the probationary period, I''ll pay you seventy percent of your sry. If that sounds good to you."

    Sinir then turned to Vikir and grinned broadly.

    "Hyung, that''s a pretty generous offer! This cafe usually doesn''t hire men at all...."

    "I don''t."

    But Vikir shook his head.

    A minimum wage job and an apprenticeship, which would leave him with no time to go y demons.

    Vikir hadn''t intended to work here in the first ce.

    He was just curious about how much kids get paid these days.

    ''If I want to pay for school, I''ll have to find a job that will pay well in a short period of time.''

    Vikir was reminded that it''s hard to make money with a regr job.

    ''What kind of job should I do? Monster hunting would be the best, right?''

    Once the midterm season ispletely over and the holidays are here, I''ll go hunting for monsters in the nearby area.

    Of course, Vikir knew exactly what dungeons were hidden near the Imperial Capital and what monsters lurked there, so making money shouldn''t be too difficult.

    But Sinir, unaware of Vikir''s thoughts, could only shake his head.

    Then.

    "Hmmm!"

    Mr. Pringles coughed, for some reason.

    He stroked his mustache with a hand gesture that was a little faster than before.

    "So, how about no probationary period, just minimum wage?"

    "?"

    Mr. Pringles suddenly changed his tone.

    Both Vikir and Sinir shook their heads.

    "No."

    Vikir shook his head again, more firmly, and Mr. Pringles'' fingertips twitched once in his mustache.

    "Well, then, without a probationary period. I''ll add 500 gold to your minimum wage, how about that?"

    "No."

    "Ugh! Then add 1,000 gold to your hourly wage!"

    "No."

    "Yuck! Then I''ll pay you 1.5 times your hourly rate, just for that!"

    "I won''t."

    "Ouch! Then double! Double your hourly rate! Work for me!"

    "No."

    Vikir frowned as he watched Mr. Pringles twitch his mustache.

    At this point, it was Sinir who was flustered.

    She stopped Mr. Pringles with an awkward smile.

    "Oh, Mr. Pringles. You must be disappointed. You''re going to have a lot of female customers with my brother, aren''t you?"

    "Huh? Is that so? Oh, well, I guess that''s true. I hadn''t thought of that."

    "What? Otherwise, why would you hire my hyung at double the hourly wage....?"

    "Well, our cafe has a nice uniform."

    "Yeah, right, except we only have girls'' uniforms."

    "Exactly."

    "...?"

    Whatever.

    Vikir decided not to take the cafe job.

    Leaving the boss''s office, Sinirmented.

    "All the good jobs around here are for women. Cafes, theaters, and bookstores are great ces to work."

    "Why don''t you try cross-dressing? It might not be so bad after all."

    Bianca, next to her, said with a rare look of seriousness on her face.

    But Vikir shook her head silently.

    "It''s okay. I already have a part-time job in mind."

    "Eh? Where?"

    Sinir opened his rabbit eyes.

    There was no way he could say "demon hunting" right then, so Vikir just shut up.

    Then.

    Dolores, who had been waiting with her parfait, suddenly stood up from the table.

    "Whoa, whoa, whoa, the ''copycat'' again!"

    She was trembling, clutching in her hand the newspaper that the mailman''s owl had tossed through the cafe window just moments before.

    [BREAKING] The Night Hound... a vicious act that knows no bounds!? / Views: 3,869

    -The worst viin of all time, the Night Hound, has bared his fangs once again.

    Last night, a group of students from the Varangian Academy, who were on a school trip to the Yellow Sea, were attacked by a night hound, causing great damage...

    There were 00 minor injuries and 00 serious injuries... Among them was the head of the Varangian''s academy, ...

    Meanwhile, the Night Hound was not targeting the Varangian students in the first ce, but had an ulterior motive, but the encounter was a result of the bravery of the Varangian students who spotted a suspicious person and came forward first...

    Meanwhile, no fingerprints were detected on the only piece of evidence left at the scene, a "broken vodka bottle"...

    ?(Cold ss 1st year): Wow;;; The Varangian kids must have been victimized...

    ??(Hot ss 2nd year):??For so long, I felt like I was a stranger because I was in the academy... but it doesn''t feel like a stranger that someone my age got attacked;;

    ??? (Hot ss 1nd year): I can''t sleep at night because I''m scared these days....

    ??(Hot ss 1nd year): Really that criminal should be arrested sooner rather thanter.

    ??(Hot ss 2nd year): Wow, I''m so excited for the night hound... He''s a viin, but he''s cool.

    ???(Cold ss 1st year): This is crazy;;;

    ???(Cold ss 1st year): Isn''t he a psychopath???

    ???(Hot ss 3rd year): This guy needs to be checked out.

    ??? (Cold ss 1st year): But there are a lot of Night Hound fans in the academy;;;

    ??? (Hot ss 2nd year): Etta, they''re just writing nonsense saying they''re anonymous;;; I''m afraid I''ll go blind ??

    ??(Hot ss 3rd year): I''m a night hounds fan, I support you! Bring a wake up call to this rotten society!

    ???(Hot ss 2nd year): Imperial Guard members are here!!!!!

    .

    .

    Dolores looked at the newspaper, angry.

    "This is not the work of the Night Hound, someone is copying him, a real viin!"

    She jumped out of her seat and walked over to Vikir, Sinir, and Bianca.

    "I''m sorry, girls, but I have an emergency and I have to go. We''ll talk about the attack test a littleter."

    "Yes, Ms. Chairman."

    Sinir and Bianca nodded obediently.

    Vikir, meanwhile, was a little impressed by Dolores'' re.

    ''Did you realize it was a copycat? Excellent.''

    Vikir read the newspaper article Dolores had left behind.

    Apparently there was a madman on the rampage out there.

    ''No, not one, but two?''

    Two copycats. One has been less activetely, the other is still on the rampage.

    I was already avoiding eye contact, but now I was getting even more attention.

    This had obvious advantages and disadvantages.

    The pros are that Vikir''s alibi is now stronger, the investigation is in disarray, and, hopefully, Vikir''s crimes can be med on a copycat.

    But there was one major drawback that all of these advantages didn''t cover.

    ''It''s that my vignce is heightened when I''m acting as the Night Hound.''

    This could disrupt assassinations.

    The more vignt a society''s leaders are, the more guards there will be.

    "...."

    Vikir made a silent resolution to himself.

    To eliminate the copycats, the fake Night Hounds, if possible.

    ''Once I do well in the attack test tomorrow, I will go straight to catch the copycat.''

    I have to get a job, I have to study, I have to take exams, I have to go on assassinations, I have to catch and kill copycats....

    Vikir''s academic life is indeed busy.

 Chapter 188: Attack Land (1)

    <h4>Chapter 188: Attack Land (1)</h4>

    The final exam of the midterms had begun.

    Students and golems faced each other in arge, circr arena.

    On the opposite side of the arena, the professor stood alone.

    The student''s opponent, the golem, copies the professor''s movements.

    Whiz-pop!

    nk... thunk!

    When the professor swings his right arm, the golem swings its right arm, and when the professor leaps, the golem leaps.

    The professor has to control his "avatar" golem from a distance to take on the student, but in this case, the sense of distance bes a handicap.

    Then it was time for the real thing, and the students on the stage faced off against the golem.

    The students had to use all their strength against the golem, which mimicked the professor''s body movements.

    Meanwhile, the attack test was divided into sections based on the order of the attendance list, with a specific professor in charge of sections A through B, and one professor facing about a hundred students.

    Naturally, with different professors controlling the golems, the golems'' fighting styles would also vary.

    A professor with a generally gentle personality moves the golem in a defensive manner, while a professor with an impatient and aggressive personality uses the golem offensively.

    Therefore, students had to memorize where their name was located in the attendance list and identify their professor in advance to study his/her fighting style.

    This was a test designed by the academy''s first principal, who believed that education is more effective when you know and analyze the person who will teach you before you learn.

    Meanwhile.

    "Iyab!"

    Tudor, who was being tested for the first time, was holding a spear and fighting hard.

    ...Pow!

    The tip of the spear exploded with a powerful aura.

    If it was a real man-to-man duel, no matter how strong the professor was, he wouldn''t have been able to unleash such a lively attack.

    But the opponent was a golem, and the real Professor was moving safely at a distance.

    So without hesitation, Tudor plunged his spear into it.

    Boom, boom, boom!

    The golem, which was radiating magic, was knocked back by Tudor''s aura.

    However.

    [Not yet].

    A familiar voice spoke from the golem''s mouth.

    Professor Morg Banshee. The Academy''s leading candidate for Vice Principal.

    Even though he was on the far side of the training grounds, he knew exactly how far away Tudor was.

    Chaaaah!

    The golem snaps its fingers, forming a bond, and thorny vines grow around Tudor''s body.

    "Huh!"

    Tudor ducks his head.

    [The vines are fake].

    The golem, controlled by Professor Banshee, immediately throws a giant punch.

    Tudor barely twisted his waist to avoid it.

    [Fist is also fake.]

    There was no way to avoid the sole of the golem''s foot as itunched a back kick.

    ...Pow!

    Tudor was knocked off his feet.

    The golem''s shadow casts an eerie shadow over Tudor, who is covered in dirt and thrown out of the field.

    The click of Professor Banshee''s tonguees through the golem''s mouth.

    [Did you think that because I''m a mage I wouldn''t use my fists and feet?]

    "Ugh... Yeah."

    [The purpose of battle is to win. Just because you''re a mage doesn''t mean you have to use magic to win. You have to use whatever you have to win. Whether that be fists, kicks, teeth, or whatever].

    "Thank you for your teaching."

    Professor Banshee was a hated human being, but he was a great teacher.

    Tudor bowed politely and exited the arena.

    -Ring!

    .

    Tudor''s score was then disyed in a magical status window.

    .

    -Effective hits: 12 (1 point each)

    -Effective dodges: 20 times (1 point each)

    -Effective Defense: 3 (1 point each)

    -Critical hits: 0 (10 points each)

    =Total Score: 35 points

    A total score of 35 points. By far the highest score of any first year student.

    "Good!"

    Tudor threw his hands in the air and called out in triumph.

    He seeded in delivering 12 effective hits to the golem controlled by professor Banshee, sessfully evaded the golem''s attacks 20 times, and properly blocked the golem''s attacks 3 times.

    I didn''t manage tond a critical hit against the skillfully maneuvered Banshee''s golem, but it didn''t matter.

    Professors, masters ofbat, would never allow a critical hit against a student.

    Tudor nodded to Dolores, the student council president, who was watching from a distance.

    It helped that Dolores had given him a heads-up on the fighting style of Professor Banshee, who was now in charge of Tudor.

    Though he hadn''t expected to use his feet at the end.

    "At least you scored better than those triplets from Baskerville."

    Tudor smirked as he looked to the other side of the arena.

    There, he could see three people standing arm-in-arm: Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro.

    Highbro had a score of 34, Midbro and Lowbro both had a score of 33, and they were in first and second ce until Tudor showed up.

    Tudor taunted the triplets with a nasty look.

    "Hey, how''s that for being a dick to your friends?"

    But.

    "...."

    "...."

    "...."

    Somehow, the Baskerville triplets didn''t respond to Tudor''s taunt.

    They just stood there like carved wooden chickens.

    Tudor, who had just taunted his dumbfounded ssmates, stuck his tongue back in his cheek.

    "What is it with them, always picking fights, and now they won''t take a fight at all?"

    Tudor wasn''t sure why the Baskervilles'' triplets had suddenly be like that, but he thought it was a good thing.

    Tudor''s taunt fell on the wrong person.

    "Damn, I''m pissed at that Tudor asshole!"

    Bianca, stomping her foot at Tudor.

    .

    -Effective hits: 7 (1 point each)

    -Effective dodges: 24 times (1 point each)

    -Effective Defense: 0 (1 point each)

    -Critical hits: 0 (10 points each)

    =Total score: 31 points

    Bianca is an archer, which puts her at a disadvantage in 1v1s like this.

    Especially against a golem that knows no pain.

    "Ahhh, I can''t believe I lost to Tudor! It''s all because of the weird test structure. It''s disadvantageous for archers, the bnce sucks!"

    "You know, I don''t remember you mentioning bnce once when you were raking in the points on the Defense exam."

    "Why would you bring up the defense exam if you had nothing to say?"

    "Of course you''re bringing it up so you don''t have anything to say."

    Tudor and Bianca started fussing over the scores again.

    And then I said.

    "Uhahahaha! How''s that, you foolish things!"

    Grenouille, the second in charge of the Hot ss, finished the test with a victorious smile.

    .

    -Effective hits: 11 (1 point each)

    -Effective dodges: 22 times (1 point each)

    -Effective Defense: 2 (1 point each)

    -Critical hits: 0 (10 points each)

    =Total score: 35 points

    He finished the exam with the same score as Tudor, the head of the Cold ss.

    Apparently, his original advisor, Professor Banshee, became the one in charge of the exam, and he scored better than expected.

    In other words, he was pretty lucky.

    Grenouille looked over at Tudor, who was cheered on by his fellow Cold ss.

    "Is this a tie? I think you and I will have almost the same midterm scores, right?"

    "Don''t rub it in, we broke the ss record on the defense test."

    "Our individual scores were tie, and let''s not forget that I have a higher written score than you!"

    Tudor smirked at Grenouille''s arrogance, as if he wasn''t worth the trouble.

    "I don''t know what you''re talking about. The Cold ss hasn''t released the final weapon for the attack test yet."

    "What? Isn''t the final weapon yours or Bianca''s? You''re tied with me, and Bianca''s dead."

    "What!? Who wants to die? I''m going to tear that gloomy bastard up and put it on top of my porridge... ... !?"

    Grenouille''s answer made Bianca behind him jump, but she was quickly silenced by Tudor''s urging.

    Tudor smirked and looked at Grenouille.

    "1:1 strongest. Even in a one-on-one fight against a golem, there''s someone much stronger than me."

    "...!"

    Grenouille''s expression hardened at that.

    Yes, even the arrogant Grenouille was wary of Tudor and Bianca.

    In fact, there was someone even more threatening than Tudor and Bianca.

    Sancho Barataria of the ss A Cold Warriors.

    Tudor eximed triumphantly.

    "Sancho is a northern warrior who can beat a bear with his bare hands without a handful of mana! Moreover, if it were an attack test with unlimited mana and unlimited number of kills, what would the result be? "It will be on a different level from when Naphtali was doing it!"

    At that, Grenouille and the other Hot ss students grunted and averted their gazes.

    They admit it.

    Of all the students in both the cold and Hot ss, it was Sancho who was expected to score the highest on the attack test.

    "Sancho must be number one in the Cold Warrior ss, right?"

    "That''s right. Have you seen his size? His fist is bigger than my head."

    "Doesn''t he just rip apart golems with his strength?"

    "Maybe he''ll set an all-time record for individual scores."

    All the students were chattering the same thing.

    But.

    What happened next sent all the students, cold and hot, into a panic.

    ...thud!

    Sancho, covered in blood, fell helplessly to his knees.

    On top of him, a status window reflected the cold reality.

    .

    -Effective hits: 8 (1 point each)

    -Effective dodges: 9 (1 point each)

    -Effective Defense: 0 (1 point each)

    -Critical hits: 0 (10 points each)

    =Total score: 17 points

    That''s a ridiculous score.

    He only managed tond 8 effective hits and 9 dodges.

    He even had zero effective defenses, meaning he was hit by almost every attack.

    A score of 17 is not even mediocre.

    It was truly a shock that Sancho, who can score high scores in thete 30s, barely received this score.

    Even worse, Sancho copsed in a heap as soon as he finished the test.

    The gaping wounds and dripping blood made the atmosphere in the testing room even more gruesome.

    "Sancho!"

    Dolores rushed over to the injured junior.

    Dolores helped Sancho stagger to his feet and heal him.

    Soon, a crowd of students gathered around Sancho and Dolores.

    At the front of the line was their roommate and best friend, Tudor.

    "Hey, Sancho, are you okay?"

    " ... The president heal me, so I''m fine."

    Sancho''s deep sigh shows his self-destruction for failing the exam.

    I also feel sorry for not being able to establish the prestige of Cold Warrior ss.

    "...."

    A vein appeared on Dolores'' forehead.

    She patted Sancho on the back a few times, then stood up and red at the professor standing on the other side of the arena.

    The pilot of the golem that had been in charge of Sancho just moments ago.

    "Hohoho- boring."

    It''s augh that seems to tickle, but underneath it all, there''s a deep sense of extreme boredom and pessimism.

    Sady de Sade, aka Ms. Sady.

    A young female professor who was considered the worst disgrace of the Colloseo Academy.

 Chapter 189: Attack Land (2)

    <h4>Chapter 189: Attack Land (2)</h4>

    "...."

    A drop of cold sweat trickles down Dolores'' cheek.

    However, her gaze is filled withughter.

    "Hohoho what do you see?"

    Ms. Sady. She turned to Dolores.

    A ck military cap, a long purple ponytail, hair spiked like horns in ces, skin as pale as a corpse.

    Underneath her ck studded uniform, she wore a loose belt, and in the middle of it hung a rolled-up whip.

    The heel of the ck kill heel she was wearing was a whopping 31cm long, and the tip was sharp like an awl.

    There were terrible scars burning like mes on the tips of her ten fingers, where her fingerprints should have been, and there was a rumor that she had been drinking vodka and chewed on her own fingers, thinking they were snacks, while she was drunk.

    "...."

    Dolores broke out in a cold sweat and met Professor Sady''s gaze.

    Normally, she would have immediately turned a blind eye to that scary woman''s gaze, but... having grown up through the Dantalian battle, Dolores was not about to shy away from a look of protest at the injury to her favorite junior.

    "What, look at her?"

    Professor Sady drew the whip at her waist.

    She turned and paced toward Dolores, who red at her.

    "What kind of a bitch with no blood on her bald head gives a grown woman a re like that and thinks she''s the student council president?"

    "...."

    "Hohohoho-honey, even your Abby Humbert can''t open his eyes at me like that~"

    The cold sweat that was drenching Dolores'' body became even more intense as Ms Sady slowly gave off momentum.

    Dolores had fought Dantalian before, but Professor Sady''s aura exuded an entirely different kind of fear.

    A woman who exuded an almost ''demonic'' danger.

    Then.

    "Your disdain for the students is in moderation. Professor Sady."

    A voice interrupted Professor Sady.

    Morg Banshee, who stood in Dolores'' way.

    Dolores sank back in her seat, feeling the pressure on her body dissipate as Professor Banshee''s back blocked her view.

    Meanwhile, Professor Banshee turned to Sady and warned her in a low voice.

    "What kind of attitude is this in the middle of a sacred midterm? Not only did you overtest a student in your charge, but you crossed the line into verbal abuse and assault... Do you really want to get yourself fired?"

    "Tsk-"

    Professor Sady interrupted, spitting phlegm at Professor Banshee''s feet.

    "What ...?"

    Professor Banshee''s brow furrowed at Sady''s rudeness.

    But Professor Sady was unfazed and pulled something out of her waistband.

    It was arge ss bottle, half full of vodka.

    Clink.

    Professor Sady showed his sharp teeth and bit down on the long, narrow mouth of the ss bottle, breaking it.

    Wahzak- Wahzak-

    She chewed the shards of ss in her mouth like candy, then slurped them down her throat, along with the vodka.

    Professor Banshee''s mouth was half open in disbelief.

    "Is that alcohol? No, I mean, how can you have that kind of attitude on this exam with your students'' lives on the line...."

    "This isn''t alcohol, asshole~"

    "I can smell the alcohol all the way from here?"

    "It''s 76 degrees, it''s not alcohol, it''s water."

    "This crazy person...."

    Professor Sady''s head snapped up as Banshee showed signs of rambling.

    Then she spoke sarcastically for all to hear.

    "The world has changed for the better, that an old man from House Morg, who used to manage a Morg, can be offended by a daughter of the Marquis de Sade."

    But Professor Banshee is a man of great family pride.

    "Phew! That was hundreds of years ago. I''m the Marquis of Morg now. Also, the Marquis de Sade has long since fallen, and your status is no more than a semi-baron."

    "Ah, it''s a boring world, to hell with it."

    Professor Sady flicked her ears and turned her head away as if she didn''t want to deal with him.

    Professor Banshee gave her a stern look.

    "How far do you think the principal''s favor will go? If you continue to treat students badly in the next exam, I will definitely discipline you with the authority of the next vice principal."

    "Ne-ne-"

    Professor Sady still didn''t pretend to hear, but she didn''tugh or make sarcastic remarks anymore, not that she couldpletely ignore what Professor Banshee was spewing out to save her life.

    Professor Banshee gritted his teeth and turned away.

    He knew full well why they kept her on the faculty, even though it cost them lives every year.

    Honorific. The opinion in aristocratic circles that the dignity of a nobleman, no matter how fallen, their dignity should not be overly damaged.

    ''...No. There are a few more factors.''

    An unrivaled sense ofbat. And a genius for criminal psychology.

    She possesses enoughbat power to be able to take on apany of the Imperial Army on her own, and shows an uncanny ability to predict, track, and apprehend the psychology of all types of criminals.

    "A madman can understand a madman.

    Professor Banshee shook his head.

    Professor Sady is clearly a rare genius in terms of ability and talent, but her short temper makes her difficult to work with.

    She had just brutalized Sancho Barataria, a promising young man who seemed to have a lot of potential.

    Luckily, Sancho is a strong soul and hasn''t suffered too much trauma yet.

    How many up-anding elites have been traumatized by Professor Sady only to find themselves peeing themselves at the mere sound of herughter?

    They often took a leave of absence from school or dropped out of school, and even if they managed to graduate, they were often so weak-hearted that they could not fight at all no matter where they went.

    Considering this, Professor Banshee felt like thanking Sancho for being such a strong soul.

    Dolores, next to him, was also looking at Sancho with pity.

    The professor in charge was extremely unlucky. After all, ''that'' Sady.

    But the nightmare was just beginning.

    "Hohoho,e on up next. I''ll be gentle from now on."

    Professor Sady continued to call the students in her charge into the arena.

    jjaag- jjag!

    Her avatar, Mudgolem, pped the thorny whip in her hand against the floor a few times.

    Then the next student stepped onto the field.

    Puck! Puck!

    The result was what everyone expected.

    The student was unable tond a single effective hit on the mud golem, and was retired as his entire body was mangled by the whip.

    0 effective hits, 4 effective dodges, 0 effective defenses, 0 critical hits.

    Sancho''s next student was left in tears, with a miserable score of just four points.

    And the one after him, and the one after that, and the one after that.

    None of them managed tond a single sessful attack on the golem, which mimicked Professor Sady''s every move, only dodging the whip baptism.

    Furthermore, Professor Sady''s whip, writhing and flying like a viper, was nearly impossible to defend against once it began to strike.

    Four points. Three points. Eight. Six. Five. 7 points. 4 points....

    The parade of disastrous scores continues.

    It was a moment of reassessment that Sancho''s score of 17 points was outrageous.

    Meanwhile. The professors watching were grinding their teeth.

    "Sady, that stupid bitch is destroying the entire grade point average!"

    "I''m sick to my stomach to see this kind of discriminatory test every year!"

    "Why on earth does the principal favor that bitch every time!"

    "As ast act of respect for the fallen Marquis de Sade."

    "Damn it. How unreasonable and absurd. I thought this was not the way the ranks and sses were supposed to be divided..."

    "I can''t help but think that the students in that ss were unlucky."

    "Maybe we should give the sexually victimized kids extra credit for their work or attitudeter on to make up for it."

    "Well, it''s a good thing the assistant principal''s faction has her, because she''ll bring down the principal''s approval ratings."

    In the midst of all of theirplicated thoughts, Prof. Sady chuckles, sending the students into a desperate state.

    "Hohoho �C it''s fun to make the dogs sweat and train them. Well, not as much as making them bloody."

    The good news among the misfortunes was that Professor Banshee''s threats were effective and Professor Sady did not end up killing the student.

    Still, the idea of treating students like dogs and whipping them with a whip was offensive to many.

    This wasn''t a teacher educating a pupil, it was just the stronger beating the weaker.

    After giving the student she had just beaten a total of four points and retiring them, Sady called for the next dog to be trained.

    And then.

    "Ho-o? You seem to be the only one with any sense, so you''ll be worth training."

    Professor Sady''s eyes lingered on a student standing at the bottom of the arena.

    A man with an expressionless face and a cold aura surrounding him at all times.

    "...."

    Vikir was standing there.

 Chapter 190: Attack Land (3)

    <h4>Chapter 190: Attack Land (3)</h4>

    "...."

    Vikir stood there, his face still expressionless.

    And behind him, a female student with white hair walked out.

    Sinir, a head of the Hot ss.

    She walked toward the stage, as if sensing it was her turn.

    "ss A, Hot Mages. Number 69. Are you Sinir?"

    By this time, she heard Professor Sady''s voice calling out Sinir''s name.

    It was a line of genuine interest.

    Despite being from amoner''s background, Sinir''s performance in practical and written exams is better than anyone else''s.

    Not only that, but she has a reputation as an alpha girl who takes multiple general education sses, clubs, volunteer work, and a part-time job in her spare time.

    In fact, Sinir''s name is known to students, professors, and even some of the most prizing parents who are interested in the inner goings-on at the academy.

    ...Is that why? Professor Sady had her eye on Sinir.

    Dolores stepped up to Sinir''s side, looking concerned.

    "Sinir, you might as well drop out of the exam. In addition to being a professor at the Academy, Professor Sady is an advisor to the Imperial Guard''s Arrest and Torture Unit, which means she''s very capable, and she''s just as likely to do you harm as she is to be a cranky professor who''ll try to bully you if she sees a talented student."

    But. Sinir shook his head, looking more determined than ever.

    "I was expecting that."

    "...what?"

    "I''ve been expecting it, more or less, since my proctor became Professor Sady."

    Sinir lifted her head. Her sparkling gaze was fixed on Dolores.

    "I appreciate your concern, Ms. President. But I need to do well on these exams so I can get a schrship to pay for my tuition."

    "...I see what you''re saying, but Professor Sady''s case isn''t typical. Even if you fail this exam, I''m sure your professors in other subjects will make up for it somehow, whether it''s by giving you extra credit or extra points or whatever."

    "... but."

    Sinir turned her head.

    She could see a number of students lying there, groaning.

    The damage was especially severe among the hot ss, who had rtively little staminapared to the cold ss.

    Seeing this, Sinir bit her lip tightly.

    "I can''t hide from the person who made my friends look like that."

    "...."

    "I want to take the test on the same terms as my friends, Ms. President."

    Sinir''s desperation was enough to get through to Dolores.

    Why don''t I know, Dolores had been a freshman herself, when her friendships with her ssmates were strong.

    "...Yes. There is such a thing asradeship and country love."

    "Thank you, Ms. President!"

    "No problem. But if you''re in any real danger, you should give up the test and run right to me. I''ll heal you."

    "Yes!"

    Sinir replied with a flourish, and leaped up onto the stage.

    Now, Professor Sady''s curious gaze is on Sinir.

    The innocent look of a child looking down at an insect to tear apart.

    "Oh, so you''re ''the'' Sinir, the one with the good grades, the greatbat skills, the sweet personality, the good nature, and all the sses, volunteer work, and clubs?"

    "Thank you. You''re ttering me."

    "Wow, you have a nice voice. You have a pretty face, too...."

    Professor Sady began to ramble on.

    "It must be worth ruining."

    The atmosphere would have been quite warm if it weren''t for thatstment.

    Tsutsutsutsuts...

    At this point, Professor Sady''s aura began to radiate.

    Professor Sady''s avatar, a mud golem that closely resembled her figure, stood up on its slender legs.

    In its hand it held a long vine whip.

    The golem''s mouth moved to convey Professor Sady''s voice.

    [There''s been a ridiculous rumor going around the schooltely... that I''m bullying a talented student?]

    Sinir cringes at the words.

    Rumors? Surely Professor Sady''s true intentions were not jealousy or inferiorityplex?

    Sinir was confused for a moment, wondering if she had misunderstood.

    But Professor Sady''s next words were certainly more insane.

    [That must be a real misunderstanding, because... I bully everyone, talented or not, hohohoho!]

    At the same time, the golem''s whip flew out.

    Crack-

    With a loud crack, the stone floor cracked.

    Sinir ducked and dodged, but the whip moved as if it were alive, chasing after Sinir''s feet.

    Kiririk-

    With a vicious motion, like a salmosa...

    [Except that the talented ones struggle a little longer, so they''re unusually full of it. hohoho!]

    "...."

    [Was that Sancho back there? I guess he had some expectations, but the academy''s standards have dropped a lot, and such a lump of lousy talent is the ace in the hole for cold ss. I''m disappointed, I''m disappointed].

    Professor Sady licks her dry lips with her tongue and continues to flick it into thin air.

    [How about you? Try acting like an ace in the hot ss game~]

    At the same time, the whip makes countless bends and knots, bursting the air around it.

    Puff-puff-puff! Crack, crack, crack, crack!

    The surrounding cobblestones explode.

    Sinir cast a wind spell on her body to help her move faster.

    "Haste!"

    With a quickened movement, Sinir dodged the noose created by the whip and moved to the edge of the training grounds.

    Speed like the wind, indeed.

    But.

    [Haste? That''s how fast you can move with a haste? Kid, if you do that in real life, you''ll die right away~]

    Professor Sady''s golem caught up with Sinir''s movements far too easily.

    "Huh!"

    This gasp came not only from Sinir''s mouth, but also from the mouths of all the students and professors watching the test.

    Sady piloted the golem with such ease that even the professors were amazed at her godlike skill.

    Ordinary professors, no matter how skilled inbat they were, could not control a golem from a distance so perfectly.

    A body synchronized to a golem has a slight slowdown when moving, and the golem also has a momentary synchronization dy when it is avatarized.

    Additionally, the distance jamming would be more challenging as you would be trying to intercept a distant opponent, and you would be unable to calcte the difference in length or thickness between your limbs and the golem''s limbs, which would introduce small errors.

    But.

    [Hohohoho- you don''t get points for running away, do you?]

    Professor Sady had none of that.

    Her incredible focus and physicality flowed like water as if she was actually fighting the student in front of her.

    It''s as if she''s actually in closebat with the person in front of her.

    "That''s right. I don''t get points for running away, so thanks for the advice!"

    Sinir stood firm and cast a spell.

    A multiple spell cast.

    Three circles, threeyers, nine mana circles in all.

    Quack, quack, quack, quack!

    A whopping three ss 3 magic spells exploded out.

    A song of fire, ice, and wind.

    A tremendous talent rarely seen at her age. In terms of mana affinity alone, she could match or surpass the mages of House Morg.

    However.

    [Hohohoho-]

    Seeing the spears of fire, ice, and wind, Professor Sady could only chuckle softly.

    [Hohohoho- The Aces of the Hot ss are nothing special, either. I would rather be bothered by the big guys from Varangian... ... ]

    Professor Sady muttered, her interest waning.

    And then.

    Pfft!

    With a single kick, all of Sinir''s magic was destroyed.

    "Kuck!"

    Mana flowed back as the spells were forcibly canceled.

    Sinir stumbled backwards, blood pouring from her eyes, nose, mouth, and ears.

    Above her head, the golem''s fists and kicks began to rain down.

    Quack, quack, quack, quack!

    The physicality of Professor Sady''s golems was astonishing.

    The amount of mana that can be injected into the golem is obviously limited, but Professor Sady chooses the moves that are most efficient with that limited amount of mana.

    This, coupled with the unparalleled physicality of the explosive bursts of mana, results in an unbelievable level of control over the golem.

    Insanely flexible, bizarrely contorted, iprehensibly bent, and monstrously fast.

    It''s as if its entire body is one long whip.

    "Kyaaaagh!"

    Sinir couldn''t help but scream.

    Sinir stumbles backwards, frantically dodging the golem''s fists and kicks.

    And then she hears the voice of the Grim Reaper in her ear.

    [Oh, no, my dear, there''s something else you''ve forgotten. Have you forgotten my whip?]

    The golem''s fists and kicks are so fearsome that she forgets for a moment.

    Professor Sady''s primary weapon is a whip.

    "...!?"

    Sinir snapped out of her reverie, and she could see the whip stalks sprawling around her body like some kind of bird.

    ... snap!

    The noose tightened in an instant, binding Sinir''s entire body in a single bound.

    "...! ...! ...! ...!"

    Unable to move, Sinir turned her head.

    Killheel''s pointed heel came so close that it almost touched the surface of Sinir''s eyeball.

    seupas!

    Sinir quickly jerked his head back to avoid Professor Sady''s kick, but not the second one that followed.

    ... Pow!

    A heavy middle kick.

    Sinir didn''t need to see it to know that all of her ribs were broken, piercing her internal organ.

    Sinir was sent flying through the air.

    Like a kite with a broken string, she tumbled out of the arena.

    At the same time, a status window popped up.

    .

    -Effective hits: 3 (1 point each)

    -Effective dodges: 16 (1 point each)

    -Effective Defense: 0 (1 point each)

    -Critical hits: 0 (10 points each)

    =Total score: 19 points

    Top of the ss. Never missing out on first ce in any test, her total score was only 19 points.

    Barely above average.

    "Sinir!?"

    A startled Dolores picked up the falling Sinir.

    Heal Magic was cast on Sinir, who coughed up blood.

    The professors rushed over and began to heal her.

    Meanwhile, Sinir looked up at Dolores and smiled faintly.

    "I''m sorry, Ms. President...."

    "Don''t talk, Sinir, it takes time for your internals to heal!"

    "Cough! Cough! I guess I won''t get the schrship...."

    At that, Dolores cried and held Sinir''s hand tightly.

    For all we know, Dolores could pay Sinir''s tuition.

    She was quite wealthy,ing from the prestigious Quovadis family.

    But that wasn''t what mattered now.

    It was about doing things on her own, whether it was exams or tuition, without anyone else''s help.

    That''s what mattered to Sinir.

    Then.

    "Hohohoho-"

    Laughter pierced the silence.

    Professor Sady. She was smiling broadly at Sinir''s tears.

    "Are you crying because you didn''t get the schrship, honey, I''ll pay for it, don''t cry about it, you''re not a beggar."

    Not an unknowing remark, but a knowing one. It made Sinir''s stomach flip twice.

    Students and professors alike stiffen at Prof. Sady''s words, like thorns on a tongue.

    ... but.

    There was one person whose face didn''t change at all.

    "...."

    Vikir. He just stares at Professor Sady with his usual expressionless face.

    But.

    Professor Sady opened her mouth to speak, and Vikir''s expression finally broke through.

    "Okay, let''s get right to it. Next on the agenda is ss B of the Cold Warriors...."

    Her flesh-colored eyes snapped open and rolled in Vikir''s direction.

    Then her lips curved in a soft arc, crimson against her pale skin.

    "Piggy. Come up?"

 Chapter 191: Attack Land (4)

    <h4>Chapter 191: Attack Land (4)</h4>

    Meanwhile.

    When Sinir, the head of the Hot ss, is carried out on a stretcher with a dismal score, the mood of the entire ss is somber.

    The usually cheerful Sinir had be something of an idol to the first-year students.

    But not everyone was saddened by Sinir''s tragedy.

    "Whoa, whoa, whoa, thatmoner bitch, finally got her nose ttened."

    "She doesn''t know what she''s talking about, and she''s just gotten the head of the Hot ss."

    "Exactly. The head of the Hot s should be from our noble family."

    "She''ll get extra points for being pretty and ttering the professors, anyway."

    Some of the group sneers darkly.

    "Now it''s time for someone who''s truly worthy of the title: our Grenouille."

    It was Grenouille who was the leader of this group,posed entirely of the scions of the Empire''s most prestigious families.

    But why does he have such an expression on his face?

    He waspletely unresponsive to the words of his subordinates and friends.

    "...."

    His gaze is fixed on Sinir in the distance.

    She is in pain as she is carried out on a stretcher.

    Sinir had always been a hardworking and determined student at school.

    Despite hermoner origins, she was never intimidated by the nobles and achieved more than anyone else in her studies.

    But Sinir is in pain. She even shows tears that have never been seen before.

    Grrrr!

    Grenouille''s teeth gritted.

    "Be quiet."

    The boys and girls of the noble faction fell silent at her words.

    Grenouille spoke in a low, bass voice.

    "It was not a fair fight."

    "Huh?"

    "Maybe the other professors will make up for her marks, whether it''s extra credit or attitude points."

    At that, the noble boys and girls nodded.

    "It''s Grenouille after all."

    "He''s so strong, he deserves to be the leader of the Noble Faction."

    "You can''t let your guard down yet, can you, A battle for head position?"

    "Let''s show this lowlymoner girl a lesson!"

    But Grenouille still looks bitter.

    Then. Grenouille''s expression softened slightly.

    "...Professor Sady. I thought I told you to do it in moderation?"

    It was Professor Morg Banshee.

    He spoke as if he could take no more.

    "There is a limit to what I can do to save the face of a Principal, and I cannot tolerate your behavior any longer."

    "Huh? What are you going to do?"

    Professor Sady puffed out his chest, showing his guts.

    The other professors behind Professor Banshee began to walk out and protest.

    "Professor Sady, don''t you think this is too much? Some of the students you''ve hurt are under my guidance!"

    "Prof. Sady. This isn''t right, isn''t it? You''ve been turning a blind eye to the Magic Wall B-key incident the other day, and you''ve been turning a blind eye to people using their annual or semi-annual leave on the same day without reporting it, and leaving the workce without authorization."

    "Are you a psychopath? Are you crazy? What are you thinking, bullying students? What kind of grading system do you have? Do you think other professors are so weak that they give students grades?"

    However, Professor Sady was not deterred in the slightest, and even bared his sharp teeth and snarled.

    "These mongrels, where are they really... barking about building a pack? Barking."

    The professors'' faces lit up in shock and embarrassment.

    A few of them leapt to their feet, but Professor Banshee stopped them.

    "There are many eyes watching."

    Suddenly, the professors realize that there are a lot of students around.

    Professor Sady''s demeanor was brash and arrogant.

    "If only ... weren''t a descendant of the Marquis de Sade.

    It''s been a long time since Professor Banshee, whose facial expression never changes, so much so that he is nicknamed a wax doll by his students, folds his eyebrows like cooking foil.

    "Anyway. This is really yourst chance, Sady."

    "Ew-don''t call me by my first name, old man. If you''re going to call me by my full name, call me by my title."

    "I''m not kidding, Professor Donatien Alphonse Fran?ois Sady de Sade. If you show any more harshness than necessary with your students, I will personally exclude you from the midterms. And I will severely discipline you for stealing the principal''s seal."

    Professor Banshee''s tone was so vicious that it was almost murderous.

    Professor Sady, on the other hand, only smiled meaningfully and did not return the Banshee''s anger.

    By this time, the next examinee had arrived.

    It was Piggy from ss B, Cold Warriors.

    Piggy was holding the sword with trembling hands.

    Professor Sady immediately snorted.

    "You don''t even know how to grip a sword. Are you a scumbag?"

    Professor Sady is verbally abusive when ites to violence.

    But Piggy trembles and doesn''t back down.

    ''I''m not a coward, and I''m supposed to be Vikir''s proud friend, and I can''t back down from that!''

    Piggy was smart, and he knew what wasing.

    If even the great Sancho or Sinir had fallen to the ground, how could he be sure he was okay?

    But even so, Piggy didn''t back down.

    Nor did he dere a quit, as Dolores had advised Sinir to do.

    ''This trial is my chance to break through my zed shell and bring out the strong courage inside me....''

    Pfft!

    But Piggy''s thoughts were cut off mid-sentence.

    [Hogwash].

    Professor Sady''s avatar, Mudgolem, suddenly approached and kicked Piggy''s body.

    Quack, quack, quack!

    Piggy bounced three times on the stone floor.

    In no time, Piggy is covered in blood.

    Suddenly, there are groans of pity from the crowd.

    Even those who usually despised Piggy for her weakness were sympathizing with Piggy as the victim of Professor Sady.

    And his friends, Tudor and Sancho, were bing even more furious.

    "Damn it! I want out! I want revenge!"

    "I''ve already been beaten down once. But to have a friend get screwed like that is really...."

    Neither Tudor nor Sancho could do anything but clench their fists and turn red in the face.

    Just then.

    [Okay, next examinee up... Huh?]

    Professor Sady starts to turn her head, but stops.

    Piggy. He''s staggering out of his seat.

    "...I''m not going to lose like this."

    Piggy is covered in blood. But he still hadn''t let go of the sword.

    "I got in trouble with the other kids at the defense test, and I don''t want to do that again."

    With that, Piggy thrust his sword forward with a cheer.

    Professor Sadyughed in disbelief.

    [Hohohoho. I''ll have to make him a pork skewer].

    The mud golem moved. The mud golem, wearing pointy kill heels like Professor Sady''s, charged toward Piggy.

    Tudor and Sancho gasped.

    "Piggy! You should just lie down! You can''t get into a closebat with that crazy professor!"

    "There''s a difference between courage and bravery, Piggy! In a situation like this, it''s better to just give up!"

    Sinir, next to him, disagreed.

    " ...I don''t think so."

    "What?"

    Tudor and Sancho turned their heads, and Sinir jerked at the ground in front of Professor Sady.

    "...ah!"

    They let out a collective gasp.

    That''s right.

    Piggy was now luring Professor Sady away.

    To where?

    To the mud hole he had just fallen into!

    In the previous match, Sinir''s fire and ice magic had caused the ground to freeze, melt, and form a muddy pit over and over again.

    The arena with Professor Sady still had a solid stone floor, but the arena with the golem on top was filled with mud pits, and the direction Piggy was standing was in the dead center of Professor Sady''s back, hidden by the golem''s back.

    In other words, if the golem mimicked Professor Sady''s movements on the t ground, it would soon fall into a mud pit, and that would be the perfect opportunity for a counterattack!

    "As expected, Piggy''s brain is the best!"

    "This will do it!"

    "Guy. That''s pretty good, isn''t it?"

    "Go, Piggy! Show her what you''re made of!"

    Tudor, Sancho, Bianca, and Sinir began cheering for Piggy.

    Piggy drew Professor Sady in with an exquisite square andnded a terrain conversion blow.

    But.

    [What? There''s mud?]

    Professor Sady''s genius chews through all of these variables.

    Bam!

    The golem''s high heels didn''t stick in the mud.

    ...More urately, they were stuck, but they came off as quickly as if they were stepping on t ground.

    "!?"

    Piggy''s eyes widened. His eyes are wide with horror.

    In front of him, Professor Sady''s golem leaned in close.

    A sweet voice spoke dangerously and giddily.

    [You think you''re a genius at installing things?]

    Piggy''s attention was suddenly drawn to Professor Sady''s high heels.

    To his surprise, the heel had fallen off her shoe and was lodged in the mud behind her.

    That''s right.

    Professor Sady was used to walking on the tips of his toes with his magpie feet pushed to the limit.

    Without putting any weight on her back heel. Just the strength of his toes.

    And those trained toes are the perfect finishing touch to a kick that packs a tremendous amount of power.

    It was a glimpse of how much she had been training herself.

    "Iiiigh!?"

    Piggy finally swung his sword, but it was about two secondster than he had nned.

    And against Professor Sady, two seconds was the difference between heaven and earth.

    Pfft!

    Another horrible gurgling sound erupted.

    Piggy fell to the ground outside the arena, not just bloody, butpletely covered in blood.

    [That''s a lot of bullshit for a second time].

    Prof. Sady turned around, unleashing an unrelenting barrage of abuse.

    At that moment.

    There was a sound that stopped her in her tracks.

    -Ting!

    Piggy''s score popped up.

    .

    -Valid hits: 1 (1 point each)

    -Effective dodges: 0 (1 point each)

    -Effective Defense: 0 (1 point each)

    -Critical hits: 0 (10 points each)

    =Total score: 1 point

    1 point. Only one effective hit.

    But Professor Sady never allowed Piggy to attack.

    [What? There''s no way I''d give that scumbag a point].

    But Piggy''s score is definitely one.

    Then.

    [...!]

    Professor Sady''s eyes widened.

    A broken de was deeply embedded in the lower belly of the golem she was controlling.

    * * *

    "Piggy! Are you okay!?"

    Tudor and Sancho frantically rushed to Piggy''s aid.

    Covered in blood, Piggy could barely stand up on his own.

    One of his eyes was swollen shut andpletely closed.

    "Hehe... guys, I still got a point."

    Tudor and Sancho were silent for a moment as Piggy spoke.

    Piggy had clutched the broken sword in his hand the moment Sady''s kick had hit, and he had driven it into the golem''s body.

    It was only worth one point, though the shards of the clenched de made a mess of his hand.

    Piggy did it, and he did it.

    "Well done, asshole..., you did it."

    "You didn''t blink until the moment you got hit, which is something I couldn''t do either. I admire you."

    Tudor and Sancho said, supporting Piggy.

    Piggy didn''t even have the strength to speak anymore, only the faintest movement of his dried lips.

    Just then, a medic rushed over and began tending to his wounds.

    Dolores looked at him with concern.

    "Your left head is badly cracked. You could have been blinded if the Holy Power had been applied a momentter. You''ll be blind for a while, so be sure to wear the medical one-eye sses."

    "...That''s a good thing, my mother would have cried a lot if I had gone blind."

    The sigh of relief that followed Piggy''s words was met with clenched teeth by neither Tudor nor Sancho, nor Bianca and Sinir, who had just arrived.

    Meanwhile.

    In the ballroom, Professor Banshee was issuing an ultimatum to Sady.

    "Step out of the training grounds, Sady. From now on, I will revoke your test administrator qualifications. You are a human being unworthy of testing a warrior''s honor. Because you yourself are not a warrior right now."

    Sady smirked at Professor Banshee''s rebuke of his dishonorable behavior.

    "A warrior? There are no warriors in the academy, they''re all idiots."

    At the same time, she muttered in a low voice.

    "Only ''He'', the one who stirs the night of the Empire, is a true warrior."

    Professor Banshee did not hear Sady''s words.

    "Come down here now. You are not worthy of a professor, and from this point forward, I will strip you of all rights and privileges as an examiner...."

    But Professor Banshee was cut off mid-sentence.

    "Next."

    A voice interrupted the conversation between Professor Sady and Professor Banshee.

    Extremely cold, but with something calming rising from it.

    "I''m next."

    Vikir.

    The expressionless face of Vikir finally stood in front of the examination board.

    "Personally, I''d like to be tested by that professor."

    If you didn''t know Vikir, you''d think he had nothing on his mind.

    But for those who know Vikir, it''s easy to see how he''s feeling right now.

    On top of the white skin, one faintly exposed vein can be seen with a blue edge.

    Vikir was angry.

 Chapter 192: Attack Land (5)

    <h4>Chapter 192: Attack Land (5)</h4>

    The unleashed hound took to the field.

    Vikir had a special meeting with Professor Banshee before he was put to the test.

    "Vikir-gun."

    Professor Banshee''s gaze and voice were cold, and as usual, he didn''t like Vikir.

    But.

    "As a professor, I have a duty to see that my students are not put in harm''s way. That''s why I don''t want you to take Professor Sady''s exam."

    "I''d like to take the test as scheduled, on principle, if possible, but I also think I might get something out of it."

    "...What? Something to gain?"

    Professor Banshee tilted his head as if he couldn''t figure out what Vikir was thinking.

    Then he spoke firmly.

    "There is nothing to be gained from a person like Sady. Except for the experiential realization that there are many absurdities in the world."

    Professor Banshee was still cold.

    He took a few steps in front of Vikir, then moved his hand and held a piece of paper in front of him.

    "If you want to test Professor Sady, sign this memorandum, and only then will I allow you to do so."

    "...."

    A normal student would have given in right there.

    No, there wasn''t a single big lunatic here at Colosseo Academy who had the nerve to go against Professor Sady and Professor Banshee in the first ce.

    ...None. Except for Vikir.

    Shhhhh.

    Vikir signed the memorandum and handed it back to Professor Banshee.

    Everyone around him was stunned by his nonchnce.

    Professor Banshee also showed a change in expression that was worthy of being called a wax doll due to Vikir''s unexpected behavior.

    "You''re really going to take on Sady? You''re still so arrogant."

    "...."

    "Hahahaha, those greenhouse nts that have been fed nothing but sweet fertilizer need to taste the bitterness of the world, so they can learn to recognize what''s good for them and what''s not."

    Professor Banshee''s face crumpled into a grimace and he snorted.

    And then.

    It was Vikir''s turn.

    [That''s it, you scumbag pigs].

    The shadow of Sady''s golem looming eerily in front of Vikir as he steps up to the test.

    Professor Sady looks at Vikir curiously.

    [I''m not interested in weak pigs... but you''re kinda interesting, how dare you pick me, a scum from a talentlessmoner].

    "...."

    [Are you friends with the short pig that came up earlier, hohoho- his left eye is probably going to be blind, how about I match you with the right eye, asshole and douchebag duo. What do you think?]

    Vikir didn''t bother to answer.

    Just.

    Karak.

    I just fed the arrows to the archery show.

    Ping.

    The arrow flies at high speed.

    But Professor Sady''s golem reacted surprisingly quickly.

    [Hmph- An archer closing the distance like this? That''s a good strategy for the early game. You sure can think on your feet, can''t you?]

    Archers typically fight from a distance.

    However, when you need to score points in such a short amount of time, it can be a good idea to move forward while shooting arrows.

    It would dramatically reduce the time it takes for the arrow to fly to the target.

    However, Prof. Sady''s physicality was a monster.

    With incredible flexibility, she swung her waist like a bow and dodged all the flying arrows.

    Even the mighty Vikir had to hold his tongue at the instantaneous reaction.

    The phrase ''crooked genius'' seemed like it was created just for her.

    Even the professors who criticized her character and behavior were speechless at her skill.

    ''It''s a shame, because if she hadn''t lost her personality, she would have been a great warrior and a great contributor to the Allied Forces of Humanity.''

    But Professor Sady doesn''t seem like the type to fight for anyone.

    The kind of person no one would follow, no one would respect, and no one would love. That''s Professor Sady.

    ''If that''s the case. There is no need to look after it.''

    And Vikir was now shing a cold re at Professor Sady.

    Paan-!

    Arrows fly with a crash.

    Vikir had a bunch of arrows attached to the string and was firing them at an incredible speed.

    Admiration began to erupt from those around them.

    "My God, who is he, following Professor Sady''s movements!?"

    "That short distance isn''t getting any shorter, how is he dodging those?"

    "Plus, look at the speed of the firing, it''s insane!"

    The students and professors alike marveled at Vikir''s movements.

    Of course, Professor Sady''s synchronization with the golem had limited his mana and slowed his movements, but it was still encouraging to see a first-year student keeping up.

    However.

    [Hohohoho- You''re only a archer after all].

    Professor Sady was right.

    Vikir''s arrows hadn''t scored a single hit on Professor Sady since the beginning.

    Ting-ting-ting-ting-ting-pa-pa!

    The arrows were shattered by fists, feet, and whips before they even reached the golem''s body, or bounced off into the distance.

    Some of the arrows were shot in the wrong direction, as if I had miscalcted the wind.

    Every once in a while, like beans in a drought, the golem would get a hit, but it would mostly hit the lower part of a limb and bounce off, so it wouldn''t count as a hit.

    Even Bianca, watching it from outside the testing area, shook her head.

    "Archers have no chance in a real attack test, and while I did well with my gentle professor, you''ll be hard pressed to get a single point against Professor ... Sady."

    She was right.

    Tudor, Sancho, Sinir, and even Piggy, who had a bandage on his face, looked worried.

    Dodging the golem''s punches and kicks, Vikir picked up the arrows that had fallen to the ground and fired them again.

    But still, most of the arrows bounced off the backs of the golem''s hands or fists, or were broken beyond use, and the number of usable arrows continued to decrease.

    [Hohoho- are you going to continue? It was a rat, not a pig].

    Professor Sady seemed to be in high spirits.

    After all, she hadn''t managed tond a single whip on Bikir either.

    She looks restless, as if she wants to abandon the golem and go out on her own.

    [Come here, you wimpy child, you need corporal punishment].

    Professor Sady wants to corner Vikir, but the circr shape of the examination hall makes that impossible.

    Vikir cleverly realizes this and continues to run in circles, stalling for time.

    There are points for evasion.

    But Professor Sady had no intention of going along with Vikir''s n.

    [Hohoho- Trying to collect points through effective evasion? It''s a rat-like idea. But that cannot be allowed!]

    And with that, her whip began to strike even more fiercely.

    Bam! Crack!

    Professor Sady did not attack Vikir. She wasn''t going to give him a dodge point.

    Instead, she struck the floor of the examination room.

    The round, circr surface of the test is gradually cracked by the whip.

    In the end, one corner of the test field changed into a sharp shape, and angled corners naturally appeared.

    What Professor Sady did next was to drive Vikir into this corner.

    The whip is cracked and the floor bursts open everywhere but the corner.

    Vikir, who had been stalling for time by running clockwise and counterclockwise around the circr testing area, was forced into the corner.

    [Die, scumbag].

    Prof. Sady shouted at Vikir with a verbal assault unlike anything you''d expect from a test examiner.

    The whip flew and the arrows were falling apart.

    Vikir rolled and crawled across the mud and stone-covered floor, dodging Professor Sady''s attacks and picking up and firing the few arrows that were still intact.

    When he does manage to escape a corner, a whipes flying at him, leaving a faint cut.

    Vikir was like a cornered mouse.

    Everyone watching could only sigh.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, Sinir, Dolores, and even Professor Banshee, who has always disliked Vikir, are getting nervous.

    And Professor Sady, who has finally gotten a hold of Vikir''s leash, deres cheerfully.

    [The pain, disability, and death you are about to suffer will be worth nothing].

    At the same time, her hand holding the whip is raised high.

    If you are hit by this whip that is imbued with aura, you may suffer at least serious injury or even death.

    Professor Banshee growled.

    "Have the medics stand by."

    At that, the professors scramble to their feet.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, Sinir, and Dolores had all moved closer to the examination area.

    So that if Vikir goes out and fails, they''ll be there to pick him up.

    ... but.

    [Huh?]

    Professor Sady tilted her head.

    A subtle foreign sensation on her arm for a moment.

    It made her whip-wielding arm pause for a moment.

    ...Thwack!

    Near the joint where the arrow had been hitting earlier. I hadn''t paid much attention to it because it wasn''t considered a valid hit.

    The spot felt strangely stiff.

 Chapter 193: Attack Land (6)

    <h4>Chapter 193: Attack Land (6)</h4>

    Ziggy Geek...

    A momentary phenomenon, surely a temporary event.

    But it was a shock to Professor Sady nevertheless.

    The golem stopped.

    The whip attack that had threatened to crush Vikir at any moment had been interrupted.

    [...?]

    Professor Sady jerked back in surprise.

    This time, the golem listened and followed.

    ...?

    All the spectators were dumbfounded.

    "What''s going on? What''s going on? Why are you stopping?"

    "Is it a bad mood? The golem seemed to stop for a moment."

    "Anyway, this is your chance! Run, kid!"

    "Abstain! You''ll get yourself killed!"

    Everyone who saw Professor Sady''s golem moving again eximed in unison.

    [This is ridiculous, what was that just now?]

    Mud Golems and Stone Golems often malfunction like this.

    But most of the time, it was just a minor glitch that would go away with a test drive.

    Professor Sady raised the whip again and aimed it at Vikir.

    Down, then up, then down, then up again.

    But.

    ...pinch!

    Once again, the movement was stopped.

    Zap!

    The whip that was falling towards Vikir stopped midway, destroying the wrong ce.

    [No, really! What the hell!?]

    Prof. Sady threw up her hands in annoyance and stepped back.

    Just then.

    Ta-ang!

    Vikir, who had escaped from the corner, fired another arrow into the golem''s lower abdomen.

    Crunch!

    The golem made another short stop.

    Finally, a gasp escapes from the professors.

    "That''s it! I get it!"

    "It''s because he kept hitting the same spot!"

    "You''re constantly putting fatigue on the joints that weaken with every movement!"

    "Oooh, that''s a pretty good hit rate!"

    And then there''s the reaction from the students.

    "Wow, he keeps hitting the same spot with the arrow, is that possible?"

    "It''s possible! He''s a really good archer!"

    "Yeah, I saw him shoot right up there with Bianca on the range the other day!"

    "And from what I saw during the defense test, it looks like he''s almost an advanced Sword Expert, too!"

    "Who the hell are you?"

    The public opinion took a sharp turn.

    The crowd booed at the viinous Professor Sady and cheered at the unexpected appearance of the dark horse, Vikir.

    "Great!"

    Tudor, who was cheering outside the arena, eximed.

    "Vikir, you''ve been targeting the joints of the most mobile golem''s limbs and the joints of its underbelly, I''ve got to give you credit for some real archery skills!"

    But Sancho, beside him, shook his head.

    "It''s certainly a feat to keep shooting at the same spot without missing a beat, but... can you really make Professor Sady''s golem stutter like that?"

    Tudor scratches his head at the question.

    It was Sinir, the young girl next to him, who answered their questions.

    "Partly because of my hyung''s arrow, but also because of Professor Sady''s habits."

    "Habits?"

    "Uh-huh. Professor Sady uses a whip, so where do you think it takes the most effort to use a whip?"

    "Yeah... ... Is it the lower abdomen? Due to the structure of the golem, both arms and legs move while applying force to the lower abdomen. Moreover, the characteristics of the weapon called a whip are the same."

    "Exactly. That''s why he''s been targeting the lower abdomen. If he can loosen the joints there, he can seal the arms and legs as well, which will weaken the whip''s power and uracy."

    "Is that even possible? Those areas are much smaller than normal joints... ... It''s supposed to be super-precise sniping."

    Bianca cut in on Tudor, Sancho, and Sinir''s conversation.

    "He can."

    Bianca chewed on her bottom lip as everyone turned to look at her.

    "The other day, we were practicing archery together at the training grounds... and he shot and killed a flying mosquito from a hundred meters away, and he didn''t even use any mana."

    "Hey, does that make sense?"

    "It''s real!?"

    Sinir ran a hand through his hair as Tudor and Bianca bickered.

    "s, the joint in the lower abdomen is a weak point. You''re always one step ahead of me. Why didn''t I think of that?"

    Then. A voice answered everyone''s questions.

    It was Dolores, the student council president.

    "That''s because it''s a weakness you didn''t have against Professor Sady."

    At this, everyone''s eyes widened.

    Dolores turned her head as if to answer, and there was Piggy, looking awkward.

    "Do you remember thest piece of sword that Piggy put in?"

    Dolores asks, and everyone gasps.

    Even Piggy himself.

    The piece of sword that Piggy had stuck into the golem at thest moment had been countered, embedded deeply, and created a tiny weakness.

    Vikir, a veteran warrior, sees that weakness and grabs hold of it.

    He was so confident that he would never lose that he willingly signed Professor Banshee''s waiver.

    Sensing this, Professor Banshee could not help but make another face in front of the stadium.

    "...What an annoying little thing."

    Professor Sady''s golem visibly creaked, and she twisted her mouth in disbelief.

    Even though she''d dealt with a lot of examinees in her time, she''d never had a student dare to y mind games with a professor.

    Even more so, it had never worked, let alone against the mighty Professor Sady!

    As time passed, public opinion was turning in Vikir''s favor.

    "Good job, kid, keep it up!"

    "This is your chance to score big!"

    "Go, Vikir, go!"

    "Show me what you can do from amoner!"

    "Brother- you''re awesome!"

    Cheers and responses erupt from the audience. It''s pushing Vikir''s back.

    But.

    [You''re funny].

    Prof. Sady has turned all these flows upside down once again.

    She straightened her posture.

    Her posture, which had been so fragile that she could have fallen at any moment, was quickly regained.

    It was a wonder how she could bnce on those unstable-looking heels.

    At the same time, her whip swept around like a fierce snake.

    Kwa-kwa-kwa-kwak! Pop! Ttuduk! Crash!

    Broken shafts and broken arrowheads scattered in all directions.

    All the arrows lying on the ground were shattered and scattered.

    Rather than attacking Vikir, Professor Sady is trying to disable the arrows around him.

    All the arrows that were still in good condition were now gone.

    The battle was effectively over.

    [Hohoho-what can an archer do without arrows?]

    Professor Sady gritted her teeth, a wry smile tugging at one corner of her mouth.

    It was true.

    Vikir didn''t have any arrows left.

    All of the supplied arrows had already been used up, and even when he tried to use those that were stuck on the ground or off, most of them had already broken after being shot several times.

    The wind had carried them off in strange directions, making them impossible to retrieve.

    And now, with all of the remaining arrows broken by the blows of Professor Sady''s whip, there was nothing the archer could do.

    In the end, Vikir was left with no means of offense.

    "...."

    "...."

    "...."

    The crowd''s cheering dies down rapidly as the harsh reality sinks in.

    [Hohohoho- do you get it now, pigs?]

    Prof. Sady said, smacking the whip a few times on the floor.

    [Did I say get out of the way? There''s still quite a bit of time left in the test. What are you going to do, quit or y with your sister some more?]

    But.

    "...."

    Vikir just stood there, expressionless.

    It didn''t mean he was going to quit, but it also didn''t mean he was going to continue.

    [...?]

    Professor Sady frowned.

    Vikir''s eyes were obscured by his bangs, but it was clear that his gaze was directed in this direction.

    An unpleasant gaze.

    It did not belong to a cornered prey.

    Absolute confidence without a single doubt.

    The eyes of a predator who is clearly looking at this as prey.

    A moment.

    ...Creepy!

    Professor Sady shuddered once.

    Where does this chill running down my spinee from?

    The opponent was a first-year academy student, amoner with nothing to show for it, an archer with a broken arrow.

    But for a moment, Professor Sady was overwhelmed by the unseen energy, neither mana nor aura, emanating from the boy.

    It was an instinctive reaction, simr to that of a frog in the presence of a snake, or a dog recognizing a dog dealer.

    But reason overcame emotion.

    Professor Sady came to her senses and quickly recognized the obvious: there was no reason for her to be intimidated by the boy in front of her.

    And being pushed off the momentum even just for a moment left a nasty scratch on her stubborn pride.

    ...Is that why?

    Professor Sady was furious.

    The genius, who normally would have trusted and respected his own instincts, ended up making the mistake of looking down on the prey in front of her.

    [How dare you arrogant pig, you don''t even know the subject, and where do you get your eyes like that, just close your eyes...!]

    She growled, her eyes widening.

    At that moment, Professor Sady, who had been focusing all his attention on Vikir, saw his lips curl into a small smile.

    So small that no one else could have possibly seen it.

    A message that could only be understood by reading the shape of the lips.

    ''Blinded by anger, where are you looking?''

    Suddenly, Sady''s eyes widened.

    At the same time.

    ...Puck!

    A strange sound came from somewhere.

    It sounded like the popping of something soft, and it must have been very close.

    [...?]

    Professor Sady blinked a few times through her wide eyes.

    Her left eye felt strangely hot, and then her vision went ck.

    At the same time.

    [...! ...! ...! ...!]

    A searing pain began to engulf the entire left side of her face.

 Chapter 194: Attack Land (7)

    <h4>Chapter 194: Attack Land (7)</h4>

    ''Blinded by anger, where are you looking?''

    Professor Sady''s eyes widened to tears as she read the shape of Vikir''s lips.

    At the same time.

    ...Puck!

    The vision in her left eye went ck.

    "Kaaaahhhh!"

    Prof. Sady''s horrifying scream echoed throughout the training grounds.

    The entire left side of her face is on fire!

    But the golem''s face is intact. Not a single arrow mark.

    "...? ...? ...? ...?"

    Professor Sady reaches out and touches the left side of her face.

    She can feel it.

    Hot liquid running down her face, and a thick, hard arrowhead lodged where her eyeball should have been.

    An arrow, deeply embedded in Professor Sady''s left eyeball.

    The crowd is shocked and speechless.

    "What, what? What happened all of a sudden?"

    "I thought the wind was changing direction, but suddenly an arrow came flying at her!"

    "Isn''t that Vikir''s arrow from earlier in the match?"

    "Aww, that''s ridiculous. Why is it flying now?"

    "It was blown to a strange ce by the wind at the beginning of the match, and now that the wind has changed, it''s back!"

    "Oh my God, is that even possible?"

    "How can she be so unlucky..."

    There was an unprecedented loss of life that no one could have predicted.

    The professors were also stunned by this horrific and outrageous event.

    "No, I''ve seen a lot of students get hurt, but I''ve never seen a professor get hurt."

    "And it''s that Professor Sady. Hehe, really... ... Is it okay to call this retribution?"

    "Uh-huh. A colleague is injured. What nonsense! No matter what, that''s not true!"

    "So, should I discipline that student, Vikir?"

    "Why would you say that? He didn''t do it on purpose, it was just a natural disaster."

    Earlier in the match, Vikir had made a number of misfires, and one of his arrows had soared high in the wind, only to spin around and fall.

    In other words, it was just a coincidence.

    Moreover, Professor Sady was so focused on the golem mimicking her movements that she didn''t notice the arrow falling toward her body.

    Her vision had been so narrowed by her anger and obsession that she could only focus on what was in front of her.

    -Ting!

    By that time, the scoreboard appeared with a beeping sound signaling the end of the test.

    , ss B-256, Cold Warrior Division>

    -Effective hit: 2 (1 point each)

    -Effective dodges: 28 times (1 point each)

    -Effective parries: 0 (1 point each)

    -Critical hits: 1 (10 points each)

    =Total points: 40

    Two points for two effective hits and 28 points for 28 effective dodges.

    This was the result of Vikir''s constant running away from the whip.

    Finally, the attack on Professor Sady''s main body counted as one critical hit and was worth 10 points.

    In a way, it was a critical hit since the golem was in a state where it was unable to fight.

    It was a bit tricky to count it as a point since it was a human casualty, but that''s what the magic system had decided.

    Everyone was puzzled, as in the long history of the Colosseo Academy, a professor had never been injured in the middle of a test before.

    Anyway.

    And so Vikir''s total score was 40 points. A new record for the grade.

    This was despite the fact that the professor in charge was Sady.

    The professors looked at the timely scoreboard and chattered amongst themselves in disbelief.

    "Hehe... was so focused on harassing the student in front of her, she didn''t realize the danger she was in."

    "She''s just unlucky, who would think an arrow woulde flying at her?"

    "A terrible tragedy of overtesting. Too bad the wind changed direction just then."

    "She brought it on herself. She brought it on herself."

    "But how am I supposed to grade that student, Vikir?"

    "Give her what? The magic system says it''s 40 points."

    "But if that were the case, wouldn''t there be some students who deliberately target the professor?"

    "That makes sense. How could they jump that long distance to harm you? What happened today was just an ident of bad luck."

    "This has never happened before, so I''m not sure what to do."

    The professors are also divided.

    Some say it was an ident and Vikir''s critical hit should count as a valid point.

    Others say it was an ident, but that Vikir''s critical hit should be excluded.

    But either way, the consensus is that it was an ident.

    Meanwhile.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca were reacting furiously.

    "What the hell happened?"

    "That means Vikir won!"

    "Is there any winning or losing in this game, it''s just a time limit?"

    "Who cares, it''s just Professor Sady who ended up looking bad!"

    At the reaction of the juniors, even the nice Dolores breathes a sigh of relief.

    It was unfortunate that Professor Sady had an arrow in her eye, but somehow it didn''t seem excessive.

    After all, she''d almost deliberately blinded Piggy''s left eye, and she''d scarred so many talented students over the years, it was a small price to pay.

    Then.

    "Enough! All exams stop here!"

    Professor Banshee''s gruff shout echoed throughout the stadium.

    He stepped onto the pitch himself, apanied by the professors who specialized in Heal Magic.

    "Vikir, the exam is over. You may now return downstairs."

    Vikir didn''t say anything in response, just bowed his head.

    Under Professor Banshee''s direction, all of the tests that had been taking ce on the vast training grounds came to a halt.

    Soon, white-coated medics began to rush over in response to Professor Banshee''s call.

    The medics were only in the area where the students were taking their exams, so it took them a while to get to the area where the professors were staying.

    Professor Banshee then walked over to the cowering Sady and said.

    "Professor Sady. Get yourself some medical treatment. And I hope you will refrain from any further arrogant behavior after this incident...?"

    But.

    Professor Sady didn''t even bother to listen to Professor Banshee.

    "Hoho... hohohoho-"

    Sady suddenly began tough.

    Sheughs in spite of the blood dripping from the fingers wrapped around her face.

    Then. Professor Sady pulls her hand away from her face.

    "...hmm."

    Professor Banshee frowned.

    The sight of the arrow still lodged in her eye, the mangled flesh around it, and the gushing blood was too much to bear.

    "Professor Sady. Hurry up and get treatment... heog!?"

    For a moment, Professor Banshee''s face was colored with horror.

    So did the students, professors, and spectators who were watching.

    "Whoa, whoa, whoa-what is that doing?"

    "Eek! She''s crazy!"

    "Oh my god... what am I looking at?"

    All simr reactions.

    And so it goes.

    Pop!

    Professor Sady had just pulled the arrow out of her left eyeball with all the force she could muster.

    A straight arrow shaft and a sharp tip at the end.

    The eyeball that had just been removed from its socket.

    Everyone is overwhelmed by Sady''s madness as she rips out her own eye.

    And then.

    Tsk-tsk.

    Professor Sady''s mouth drops open, shocking everyone even more.

    Then, sharp teeth begin to chew on the eyeball pierced by the arrowhead.

    Crunch-clunk-clunk-ck-clunk-

    Professor Sady. Before anyone could stop her, she took the arrow into her mouth and began chewing on her own left eyeball.

    The sound of the eyeball popping and chewing in her mouth was loud and eerie enough to be heard by all the spectators.

    After swallowing her left eyeball whole, Sadyughed hysterically.

    "It''s from my grandfather, If I throw it away, it will be wasted."

    Her maniacal smile sent the medical team scurrying back, unable to get any closer.

    Even Professor Banshee, the Great Banshee, was at a loss for words, his mouth half open.

    Sady red at the medics.

    "I don''t need your help."

    As she spoke, she rolled her one remaining eyeball.

    There was a sideways nce at Vikir, who was just walking down the field.

    Vikir doesn''t seem to be paying any attention to this side of the arena, as if he hadn''t been there since thest time.

    His gaze has already left this ce and is headed somewhere else entirely. It''s as if everything that''s happened so far hasn''t mattered at all.

    Professor Sady''s face turned red.

    "Hohohoho- it''s fun. This is so fun. That guy... You said you were in ss B Cold devision, right?"

    Professor Sady turned her head to look at Professor Banshee.

    "If you''re going to feed me for this, feed me. Discipline."

    "...."

    "Instead. The day my discipline is lifted, I''m going to take over Cold Warrior''s ss right away."

    There was an unusual heat in Professor Sady''s voice, as if he were possessed by something, and it struck fear into the hearts of every professor and student in the Cold Warrior ss.

    And toward such a crowd.

    Frown-

    Sady''s eyeballs are sticking out and she just frowns at the empty cavity.

    "I just winked at you, didn''t you notice?"

    She was indeed an unknown woman.

    * * *

    The long midterms are over.

    Defense, Attack, and a written test.

    Everyone was surprised when the overall results of these tests, which were worth 50%, 40%, and 10% each, were announced.

    1st ce. Vikir

    2nd ce. Sinir

    3rd ce. Don Quixote La Mancha Tudor

    4th ce. Highbro Les Baskervilles

    5th ce. Grenouille Des Leviathans

    6th ce. Usher Pou Bianca

    7th ce. Midbro Les Baskervilles

    8th ce. Sancho Barataria

    9th ce. Lowbro Les Baskerville

    .

    .

    199th. Piggy

    .

    .

    On the attack test, students who had lost a lot of points after meeting with Professor Sady recovered their scores.

    This was due to a mysterious addition of extra points to their written scores.

    Although it was a small part of the score, it was a game-changer, and students who had been unfairly penalized by Sady were able to make up for it.

    ... but.

    Of all the students who took the test with Sady, there was one who did not receive any extra point.

    It was Vikir.

    The only perfect score.

    There was no room for extra point for Vikir, who came up with research results so shocking that they turned the academic world upside down in his free research report on the written exam.

    He performed well above average on the defense test and scored enough points against Professor Sady to win the attack test.

    And as a result of his outstanding achievements, such as resolving an ident caused by a magic stone error, hard-carrying the defense test by himself, and delivering a fatal blow to Professor Sady, Vikir was ranked top of the ss this year.

    ... Of course, this was not the oue Vikir wanted.

    In the first ce, Vikir tried to get good grades only on written exams. Because he didn''t want to attract attention.

    However, there were a lot of variables, such as Madame''s cub ident in the defense test and Professor Sady almost blinding Piggy in the attack test.

    Vikir used this as an opportunity to reflect on hisck of thoroughness.

    But the students, who had no way of knowing that Vikir was thinking about it, simply crowded around him and chattered.

    "Vikir, I really saw you again this time."

    "I honestly thought you were only good at study, but your physical skills were no joke."

    "Hey, buddy, would you like to have a date with the kids from Themiscyra Women''s College? I think it would be very reassuring if you came out as a member."

    "Well, mana for mana, senses for senses, and monster strategy knowledge. A man who has everything."

    "A good head makes for a good body, and a good body makes for a good head, but you''re good at both, so you''ll be good at everything!"

    "Hey, don''t you think you''re being too tantly ttering? You''re not really friends with Vikir! Go back to your seat!"

    "But you, you don''t belong here either!"

    "I''m sitting next to Vikir."

    "I''m sorry, but I''m not selling, even for augh."

    "Hey, Vikir. Are you interested in studying? Do you want to join our study group? We only have kids from good families or who are good at studying~"

    "Drink this. You were so cool yesterday~"

    "Hey. Who are you having lunch with today? If you don''t have anyone to eat with, why don''t you eat with me?"

    "All the professors are talking about you. When I went to the faculty office, they were all looking at your papers and admiring them."

    "Vi, Vikir, the seniors from the noble faction are looking for you!"

    "Awesome! I saw this morning that the noble seniors are looking for you too!"

    Vikir could only frown slightly at the many voices around him.

    Then.

    "Hey. What are you looking at, you want to get your ass kicked?"

    A gruff-looking schoolboy pushes his way through the crowd.

    Highbro Les Baskervilles. He snarled, baring his teeth.

    "I''m the head of the Cold B ss, so don''t you daree crawling up to me and tter somemoner like this. I''ll kill you."

    Although Highbro was an outspoken bully, there were few students who could protest in front of the 4th-ranked overall student.

    The cowed students scurried back to their seats.

    Highbro turned to Vikir and gave him a thumbs-up, unnoticed.

    ''All taken care of.''

    ''...Well done.''

    The words spoke for themselves.

    Highbro took Vikir''s praise and returned to his seat, smirking secretly.

    The Mid and Low Brothers are quick to criticize Highbro.

    "You''re cheating, brother!"

    "Keep the praise for yourself!"

    "If you''re unjust, you''ll have to watch your master''s back. Like me, always."

    The Baskerville triplets are now a loyal trio, waiting for Vikir''s orders.

    But there were some beings who would not be deterred.

    "Vikir, how are you feeling?"

    Tudor, Sancho, Bianca, Piggy, and Sinir.

    Tudorughed, pping Vikir on the shoulder as he entered the ssroom.

    "You bastard, if you had that kind of power, you should''vee clean and reported it to me first, you got me worried for nothing!"

    Fortunately, his friends'' attitudes didn''t change much upon seeing Vikir''s power.

    Though Tudor and Sinir were a little disappointed.

    "By the way, Vikir, I didn''t talk to you back in the room because I was in a hurry. I want to show you something!"

    Piggy stepped forward and held something out to Vikir.

    It was an article from yesterday''s paper.

    [Breaking News] A major ident during a defense test! A first-year student of the Cold ss take care of it!? / Views: 50,899

    The -1st year mid-term defense exam is a traditional exam that everyone goes through once in a while... But a recent ident urred in this exam... This major ident was caused by safety insensitivity... At that time, the professors'' responsibility was getting worse and worse... A male student came out of nowhere and saved everyone... Meanwhile, the main cause of themotion was Professor S who left the duty station with a magic wall key without permission... Finally, we attach a video of the 1st year hero Vikir-kun breaking through the poisonous fog to the surface...

    ?(Cold ss 1st year): Wow;;; Look at him tearing through the poisonous fog;;; awesome...powerful...������

    ???(Hot ss 2nd year): Is this the guy...that...why...you know...that....my husband?

    ???(Hot ss 1st year): Was his name Vikir? It was a prettymon name anyway?

    ??(Hot ss 4th year): Wow, but it''s a legend that you went through the poison fog for your friends?

    ???(Hot ss 2nd year): I heard that there''s already a fight between the 2nd year noble and 2nd year great house in the academy to recruit him.

    ???(Cold ss 2nd year): Don''t you think that''s just inside the academy? Guilds and families outside the academy are also lining up to take him as soon as he graduates.

    ???(Cold ss 3rd year): He''s only a freshman?

    ???(Hot ss 3rd year): The prominence that has already been revealed is no longer a freshman ss haha. That''s something even a graduating ss can''t do like that~

    .

    .

    Piggy''s newspaper ys a video shot on the mana screen.

    The video of Vikir tearing through the poisonous fog that filled the magic wall and shooting arrows was getting tons of views.

    ''When was thest time I shot something like this ...?''

    Vikir ran a hand over his forehead.

    After the midterm exams ended yesterday, I had to take some time off to go on an assassination mission, so I''m extremely tired.

    Now that it was in the newspaper, it was only going to get worse for a while.

    Then.

    "Why are you all gathered in front of the first grade ssroom, do you want to be disciplined?"

    A stern voicees from the front door of the ssroom, down the hallway.

    Professor Banshee was chasing away a group of students.

    They were probably upperssmen, second and third years.

    Noble and Great House.

    A group of children of noble families and a group of children of great families.

    Along with the Student Council, these groups are the three major powers of Colosseo Academy.

    While not recognized as an official group like the Student Council, they somehow wield more power over the entire student poption than any other group of students, whether from the central noble families or the powerful houses.

    They''vee this far to embrace the rising dark horse, Vikir.

    Of course, as powerful as they may be, none of them are confident enough to face the icy gaze of the students and Professor Morg Banshee, so they disappeared in a hurry.

    "...."

    Professor Banshee.

    The first thing he did upon entering was find Vikir sitting by the window.

    Vikir, who had dozed off a bit, was woken up by Professor Banshee''s cold voice, like a ssh of cold water.

    "Vikir-kun."

    "Yes."

    "Have you been closing your eyes again and thinking about what kind of magic trick you''re going to discover today and surprise the academia with?"

    "No. I dozed off."

    " ...That''s honest. One demerit point."

    Professor Banshee still hated Vikir.

    He emphasized that ss started immediately after the ss bell rang and emphasized the justification for demerit points, saying that Vikir was dozing off during ss time.

    "Ugh, Professor Banshee, here we go again."

    "It seems like you''re always giving demerits to Vikir."

    "Oh no, Vikir, you''ve racked up so many demerits that you''re going to have to domunity service again!"

    "But this time, aren''t we not going to domunity service because of the festival?"

    "Yeah, but it''s festival season soon, and it would be unfair to domunity service when everyone else is partying."

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, Sinir, and others each had their own words to say.

    "...."

    Of course, Vikir wasn''t listening to Professor Banshee''s point at all.

    His mind was already racing with the details of the letter he''d received from Sindiwendyst night.

    ''... Information has arrived about the next ten corpse.''

    The boring assassination was over.

    Now it was time for another blood and guts battle.

    Vikir closed his eyes again, silently letting Professor Banshee''s nagging voice drift out of his ear.

    The Night Hound was on the hunt for his next prey.

 Chapter 195: Preparing for the Festival (1)

    <h4>Chapter 195: Preparing for the Festival (1)</h4>

    With all the midterms over, it''s time for a little break at Colosseo Academy.

    Following the principle that ''when you study, you should study hard and when you y, you should y hard,'' Colosseo Academy holds a big festival every year tofort the tired minds and bodies of students after midterm exams.

    As the festival season approaches, professors tend to give students less ss time and more breaks.

    The idea is to get students thinking about and discussing things to do during the festival.

    Of course.

    "Shortened sses? Sounds ridiculous."

    Some, like Professor Morg Banshee, were just in mean.

    He is known for his strict and sensitive personality, but he bes especially more nervous during the festival season.

    "Cutting sses short to prepare for the festival? That''s not what a professor should do. Students pay a lot of money to attend sses, and cutting them short is a vition of their rights. I don''t understand how a professor can cancel a ss for the sake of the students. It''s just a selfish desire to make things easier for the professor...."

    Professor Banshee muttered in annoyance as he looked out the window at the banners and wreaths, the makeshift stage and tents, the sound equipment and fireworks disy.

    "In that case, today is an extended ss. It will be at least an hour longer than the normal lecture time, so everyone take note."

    Professor Banshee''s stern announcement is met with silence.

    Tudor in the front grumbled under his breath.

    ''Damn it, I''m on the festival nningmittee! I''m supposed to be out of ss half an hour early....''

    ''Ha, is this really possible? ording to the seniors, Professor Banshee does this every festival period.''

    ''Obviously, you''ve never had any fun in your life, so you can''t empathize with the students.''

    ''Yeah, I guess all I did in school was study.''

    Bianca, who was in the same boat, was frustrated and for once agreed with Tudor.

    Then.

    "Hey. What are you talking about?"

    Professor Banshee''s ghostly hearing picked up Tudor and Bianca''s small talk.

    "I guess being a member of the festival nningmittee is worth the tuition, and, what, who''s never hung out at a festival?"

    "...."

    As Tudor and Bianca remained speechless, Professor Banshee snorted lightly.

    "Don''t get all excited about the festivities. This is the time of year when we have the most idents."

    With that, Professor Banshee deducted one point each from Tudor and Bianca''s attitude scores.

    Next. Professor Banshee is about to go back to ss.

    Professor Banshee was about to resume teaching when he heard loud music outside the window.

    Bbangbangbangbang ???<

    A military band from the Imperial Army was tuning their instruments in preparation for a performance.

    Elsewhere, an invited dance troupe is putting together a choreography before taking to the makeshift stage.

    And the excited chatter of students arriving for ss and preparing for the festivities was creating a din of noise.

    Despite the curtains on the windows, the soundproofing enchantments, and even the use of a separate silence spell, Professor Banshee groaned softly at the noise of the festival outside.

    "This is why I hate festivals, ...."

    * * *

    In the end, even Professor Banshee had no choice but to end the ss a little early.

    The students'' attention span wasn''t what it used to be.

    "Well, if you''re going to sit through ss like this, just go out and y. It''s better that way."

    As Professor Banshee grumbled, gathered her materials, and left the room, the children''s eyes lit up.

    Professor Banshee''s ss happened to be a joint integration ss for all the sses in the Cold and Hot, so all the students were seated.

    It was the perfect time to discuss what to do for the festival.

    The members of the festivalmittee stepped forward.

    Tudor from Cold ss and Grenouille from Hot ss were the ones who would lead the festival.

    "Okay, friends, let''s decide on a concept for the festival!"

    The concept of the festival means what kind of mization system will be set up at the festival.

    In short, the idea is to create a simple facility that can be used for business, such as a bar, game room, or restaurant, and students can earn money by serving, cooking, or ying games there.

    Traditional bars, haunted houses, and hunting clubs were generally popr profit models.

    "But, no matter which one you choose, there is one w of thend'' that must be followed!"

    Tudor said, and all the students nodded in agreement.

    At the Academy''s festivities, there was one unwritten rule for all grades.

    It was "TS".

    Trans-Sexual, which usually refers to the transformation of a man into a woman or a woman into a man.

    At Colosseo Academy, it was fashionable for all the boys to dress as girls and all the girls to dress as boys during the festivities.

    Sinir, always cheerful, ps her hands andughs.

    "Wow-that sounds like fun. Can we test it out before the festival?"

    "Sure."

    Grenouille nodded, immediately agreeing with Sinir.

    By now, the students in charge of the props were carrying out the disguises they''d been working on.

    Sinir ced a mustache on her nose and chuckled.

    "Look, Bianca, I look like the boss at our part-time job, don''t I?"

    "Yep. Did you rip off Mr. Pringles'' mustache for this?"

    Bianca giggles in a hip chin, thick eyebrows, disguised in a long Regent wig, and wearing a clumsily inted intable muscle suit.

    Sinirughs awkwardly at the extent of Bianca''s disguise.

    "Ugh, you''re disguise is so tight. Are you really going to do that for the festival?"

    "Are you crazy? Of course I''m going to make myself look androgynous and sexy."

    "Great. Come with me."

    "Really? Oh, wait. We have to cross-dress men, too?"

    Bianca''s expression quickly turned sinister.

    She walks over to Tudor, who is picking out his disguise.

    "Hey, I''m familiar with your disguises, so I''ll help you out!"

    Soon, Bianca is using makeup and disguises to dress up the boys, including Tudor.

    Tudor''s hair was made long with golden partial wigs.

    But it didn''t look quite right on his handsome face, with its deep lines.

    "Ugh, he doesn''t look good as a cross-dresser because he has dark lines."

    Bianca shook her head and looked away.

    "Hahahaha-"

    And next to her, Sancho Barataria wasughing, arms crossed.

    "She''s crossed the... line by taking it too far."

    "Hahaha! I''ve never cross-dressed before, but I don''t feel bad."

    "Really? I''m surprised. I thought you were more of a manly man and didn''t like cross-dressing."

    "Nonsense! Cross-dressing is the most manly thing you can do, because women can''t do it, and that''s why the warriors of the North often have the world''s greatest cross-dressing contest!"

    Well, technically, yes.

    Since women can''t cross-dress, only men can, and consequently cross-dressing is a manly act.

    Sancho nodded, looking in the mirror at his long hair and whitened face.

    "With makeup, I look just like my sister, so blood doesn''t lie after all!"

    There was a slight murmur around him.

    Unexpectedly, Piggy''s eyes sparkled with admiration.

    "Wah Sancho''s sister must be very beautiful. I like strong women."

    "Really? Would you like to go on a blind date with herter? I''m afraid her taste is for shorter, fluffier, and cuter types."

    "Really, do you think someone like me would dare to meet Sancho''s sister?"

    "Hahaha- if you like her, you can keep seeing her, otherwise you can''t!"

    This was indeed a blind date set up like a warrior of the north.

    But the women''s interests had already shifted away from them.

    No, their interests had been unified. They had already been.

    "... ''He''?"

    "Where is he?"

    "Where did he go?"

    "Where is he!"

    "Find him!"

    "Hurry up!"

    "Find him right away and... find him!"

    Schoolgirls with all sorts of cosmetics in their hands, wigs of all kinds, various dresses, skirts, stockings, rings, nes, other trinkets, chokers, garter belts, and other essories were looking for someone.

    It was a frenzy that would have overwhelmed a search party of Imperial Armymandos.

    ''No. 1 most beautiful man in the Academy.''

    ''No. 1 Coolest Man in the Academy.''

    ''No. 1 sexiest man in the Academy.''

    ''No. 1 cutest man in the Academy.''

    ''No. 1 in the Academy''s most wanted man to pet.''

    ''No. 1 in the Academy as the man you''d most like to put your arm around.''

    ''No. 1 in the Academy as the man you would most like to bite.''

    ''No. 1 in the Academy as the man you''d most like to cuddle and sleep with.

    ''No. 1 in the Academy for most cross-dressing.''

    The man who topped every poll of the Academy''s female students (and some male students who swooped in to vote).

    The winner of all sorts of unofficial honors.

    Some of the makeup artists, hair designers, and fashion people who''ve had their eyes on that beauty for a while now can''t contain their lust and artistic spirits and are already searching for ''the one''.

    And soon.

    "...."

    The predators'' eyes caught sight of their prey, snoozing in the corner of the window.

    Vikir.

    This man always has an expressionless face.

    * * *

    Normally, it''s fairly rare for Vikir to be sleepy.

    Buttely, his grueling schedule of frequent meetings with schrs, award ceremonies, midterms, and even a few assassinations thrown in for good measure has been enough to make even the mighty Vikir doze off.

    Is that why?

    The sight of Vikir dozing off, his face usually hidden by bangs or sses, lit up the eyes of many of his female ssmates.

    "I found him! There he is!"

    "Wow! He''s beautiful!"

    "I''m so excited!"

    "I''ve been practicing my makeup skills for this day!"

    "I even brought my specially ordered dress!"

    "I made a wig out of my own hair that I''ve been growing for ten years! I''m a former hair model in the imperial capital!"

    "Ma''am, why didn''t the rare underwear set I ordered four weeks agoe? Even if it''s just the ones I was wearing in a hurry...!"

    An army of schoolgirls swarmed around Vikir to dress her up.

    And it wasn''t just the first years, there were also a lot of second and third years, and even a few fourth years who were graduating.

    They have casually infiltrated the first-year ssroom during a break in ss, and they are indeed showing off their first-year traditions.

    "Move over, kid, what does a first year know about makeup!"

    "Oh my God, look at you, do you even know whatpetition underwear is, and have you everpeted?"

    "You made a wig out of that wild hair? Put it away! A wig made out of my hair is much better, I''m the Rapunzel of the continent!"

    "Give me that, kid, I''ll do the nose shading a thousand times better than you!"

    "I''ll do the cheeks, I have 5.6 trillion color cosmetics alone."

    "Hey, maybe you should do the eyeliner?"

    "If we''re going to do this, let''s just divide the face into zones and do makeup by zone!"

    "Hehe! I''ll choose the color of Vikir''s lower lip, no one else!"

    " ..., the lower lip? Why is my brother here in the first ce...?"

    Rows and rows of nameless makeup products. All sorts of whimsy. All sorts of dresses, skirts, uniforms, etc. And a whole lot of essories, including garter belts, chokers, and other items that cater to a few special tastes.

    The fascination of countless girls (and a few boys) was soon directed at Vikir.

    And then.

    "...huck!?"

    Vikir snapped out of his slumber and gasped at the sight of so many palms covering his vision.

    A collective insanity that would surprise even the uninhabited in an age of destruction.

    Suddenly, Vikir jerked upright, remembering the nightmare of his arrest on the verge of execution.

    Hudadak-

    As Vikir scurried away, the girls followed suit.

    "We have to make him cross-dress!"

    "It is thew of our academy!"

    "Let''s have a festival!"

    With that, the girls followed the fleeing Vikir out into the hallway and around a corner.

    But.

    Somehow, Vikir was nowhere to be found.

    The girls looked around, dumbfounded, like a dog looking up at the roof while chasing chickens.

    But.

    Hack, hack, hack.

    From the corner of the locker room, a ck puppy nonchntly crossed the hallway.

    * * *

    Vikir is currently wearing a picaresque mask.

    Transformed into a ck dog, Vikir made his way out of the main building, past the legs of the girls who were scrambling to find him.

    ''... No matter how tired I was, to those little guys.''

    He dozes off, then jerks back when he sees the girls'' palms, which would have made hisrades-in-arms from the Age of Destructionugh out loud had they known about it.

    ''I''m sorry, my friends, I guess I''ve been a little too withdrawntely.''

    Living with young children while studying for the midterm exams, I couldn''t afford to have a good night out.

    The day ising to an end, but there is still a long way to go.

    Baskerville, Hugo, Traitors to Mankind, The Ten Commandments, The Demon World....

    The path of Sura where one must move forward by killing and killing again. Vengeful ghost.

    Vikir gritted his teeth, once again familiarizing himself with the heavy meanings of the words ''age of destruction'' and ''returner''.

    Chug-chug-chug-chug.

    The tiny ck puppy turned to face the Academy''s outer walls.

    In preparation for times like this, there are clothes hidden outside the walls in advance. Just pick a suitable hole, go out, and get your clothes back from there.

    Vikir has been wandering around the Forbidden Zone (and racking up quite a few demerit points for it), but he''s found a spot he''s been eyeing.

    People rarelye to this remote part of the wall.

    Vikir had built an open hole here, just big enough for his tiny body to fit through when he was a dog.

    ''When I exit through this hole, I immediately put on my stash of clothes and enter the city, and....''

    The information from Sindiwendi floated around in my head.

    The Demon Triangle, the only area of the Imperial City that her informants have been unable to reach, the only ce where they''ve disappeared.

    It was right near the orphanage where Dantalian was hiding.

    ''The Royal Cemetery.''

    A cemetery where the heroes who defended the Empire rest.

    ording to Sindiwendi''s information, many informants had recently gone missing while investigating there.

    Vikir recalled a newspaper article he had read rtively recently.

    [Extra] The Night Hound, the Worst Viin of All, How Evil Is He? / Views: 89,269

    -The Night Hound has caused another major ident.

    After destroying the Central Clock Tower at around 1am, the Night Hound ravaged the Royal Cemetery at around 4am.

    The Royal Cemetery is a sanctuary where the brave and fierce heroes of the previous era who unified the empire rest, so the fact that they attacked this ce was a heinous act that was tantamount to a deration of war against the entire empire, and indeed the entire human race... ... Meanwhile, the number of remains damaged or lost due to this terrorist attack is enormous, and the exact damage has not yet been calcted... ...

    It was an article about copycats imitating the Night Hound.

    ''...Maybe the copycat isn''t really trying to copy me.''

    Vikir had said that the world was just calling him a copycat for the sake of it, but what his true purpose was was still unknown, even to Sindiwendi.

    And now, Vikir spected, almost with certainty, that the Mimic had something to do with one of the Ten Commandments.

    It was a hound''s instinctive sense of smell.

    ''Alright, then, let''s get right down to business, shall we?''

    Vikir licked his dry nose once, lustily, then trotted off to the opening in the bushes.

    Dodo-dodo.

    But.

    Vikir didn''t quite make it through the opening.

    Bung-bung-bung-

    ''...?''

    The quickly moving legs are just fluttering in the air.

    Because someone had wrapped their arms around his back and waist and was lifting him up.

    "Whoa Choco, we see each other again?"

    A familiar voice rang in his ears.

    It was the student council president, Dolores L Quovadis, holding Vikir''s back with a wide smile on her face.

    She was dressed for the festival, wearing a fancy tuxedo and a ck mustache.

    ''...?''

    Vikir''s mouth was half open in disbelief.

    Why on earth is she here?

    He was caught off guard because he had checked the area several times and found it deserted.

    Vikir''s questions were answered by Dolores.

    "You''re wandering around, too? There are a lot of stray cats and dogs around here. Maybe there''s an open hole somewhere."

    "...."

    "That''s why I often feed them here, because I don''t want to disturb them near the dorms."

    Dolores is indeed a good person. It''s amazing that she''s doing a service project that doesn''t earn her anymunity service points, in a ce where no one recognizes her.

    Especially out here in the middle of nowhere, as far away from residential areas as possible, in case some people don''t like stray dogs and cats.

    Doloresughed bitterly.

    "There''s been an unusually high number of abandoned puppies and cats in the dormstely, especially in the first few months after freshmen move in. Some kids get into fights with their roommates or just get tired of their pets."

    "...."

    "I love pets, but there are times when I wish there was aw banning pets in Academy dorms, so I''m going to push for it before my term as student council president ends."

    "...."

    "But I''m also facing a lot of opposition from people who want to keep their pets. Some kids think I''m a pet hater, which isn''t true...."

    She stroked Vikir''s head with a loving touch.

    "By the way, were you abandoned by your master, or do you have your own butler?"

    "....."

    "It seems like you''ve been traveling alone for a while now, would you like toe with your sister?"

    Dolores seemed to be under some absurd illusion.

    Perhaps she had mistaken Vikir for a poor stray dog that had been abandoned by its owner....

    ''...Hmm,e to think of it, you''re not exactly wrong.''

    Vikir suddenly realized that his situation wasn''t so different from what Dolores thought.

    It''s a bitter pill to swallow. An abandoned hound, used of every sneaky, dirty thing.

    How was that any different from being a stray dog who trusted his master, only to be betrayed and abandoned.

    Even worse, Vikir had been executed, so it was worse, not better.

    ''Even though I killed Set, or rather Andromalius, the mastermind behind it..., that doesn''t remove the Baskervilles and Hugo from the list of targets for revenge.''

    Blood is blood. Nothing can rece it.

    Well, whatever.

    Dolores set Vikir aside for a moment, pausing to pick up the dog and cat poop and trash.

    ''... You sure do keep yourself busy.''

    Vikir scurried away as Dolores wiped the sweat from her brow.

    I don''t like being touched by people, and more than anything... ...

    "Ouch, Choco,e to think of it, you should be neutered!"

    It was Dolores''s not-so-veiled malice.

    Hodadak-.

    A ck puppy running away.

    It was a wind-like movement, and Dolores couldn''t help but lose sight of Vikir.

    Would she know?

    Realizing that he''s just about to turn the Night Hound into a eunuch.

    "... ... Hey, it''s gone. You don''t give much attention to your side. You''re so shy."

    However, Dolores, who is not aware of this fact, only makes a sad expression as she watches the ck figure disappear quickly towards the edge of the bush.

 Chapter 196: The Corpse Queen (1)

    <h4>Chapter 196: The Corpse Queen (1)</h4>

    The Night Hound continues to blend silently into the night.

    Vikir glides from building to building.

    But unlike before, Vikir''s movements are many times more agile.

    Although he became stronger through training, it was more due to the entity attached to the wrist of his left hand.

    [Pow!]

    A spider web spewed from his left wrist.

    The creature shoots the webs onto the walls or railings of the building in front of him as he flings himself into the air.

    Vikir then swings forward like a pendulum, attaching another web to the building in front of him, and so on.

    The baby madam pulled out an enormous amount of spider silk from within its small body, and it seemed that the moment a very small amount of concentrated spider silk extract was ejected out of the mouth, it hardened upon contact with the atmosphere.

    ''If this little guy can spin so many webs, I wonder what Madame Eightlegs was like?''

    Vikir recalled thest time he had fought Madame Eightlegs.

    Madame Eightlegs had consumed an enormous amount of webs during her raid on Bk''s vige, so she hadn''t really been able to pull out much in her fight with Vikir.

    If Madame Eightlegs had been able to spin as many webs as she wanted, Vikir probably wouldn''t have survived that day with his limbs intact.

    "You''re more useful than I thought."

    [Hack-hack-hack-]

    Vikir patted the head of the cub that was spitting out webs from its mouth.

    It''s a good thing, because the travel time has been dramatically shortened thanks to it.

    Tap, tap, tap!

    Running along the outer wall of the building, Vikir soonnded on top of a half-destroyed clock tower.

    The city''sndmark clock tower was half-copsed after a massive impact.

    However, because the tower originally had a long history and was built with great care from the foundation, it escapedplete destruction.

    Vikir remembered a newspaper article he had read not long ago.

    [Exclusive] Night Hound Strikes Again!

    -At around 1 AM yesterday morning, the Hound of the Night struck again.

    This time, it was the Central Clock Tower, andmark of the Imperial City.

    A copycat, a strange man imitating the Night Hound.

    Vikir stared at the massive clock tower, destroyed by an unknown and mysterious entity.

    The scars on the walls were too long and free-form to be sword marks.

    ''It looks like the marks of a whip. Destroying the city''sndmarks makes me wonder if... is a person dissatisfied with society?''

    Destroying the central clock tower, with its long history, would have done nothing for the city.

    It''s just a clock tower, a symbol of order and peace that everyone in the city sees several times a day.

    Nevertheless, there was likely some symbolic meaning behind the attempt to destroy it.

    For example, it could be a protest against the social system, an attempt to overthrow the order, or something like that.

    ''...Well, that''s none of my business.''

    But that wasn''t the point right now.

    Finding and killing the copycat was more urgent to Vikir than the identity of the copycat.

    "Let''s see."

    From the roof of the tower that had been destroyed by the copycat, there was a panoramic view of the city.

    The lights are slowly dying down.

    The city is dark and deserted as it prepares for a slow, steady sleep.

    And the Night Hound, who only opens his eyes when everyone else has closed theirs.

    ''... That''s where Sindiwendi pointed out as suspicious.''

    Vikir lifted his head and looked to the north of the city.

    It was the area where Vikir had gone on a volunteer not long ago.

    It was the site of the Indulgentia family''s orphanage, now in ruins.

    ''It''s definitely a ruin and there''s nothing left... ... Why are informants disappearing over there?''

    Vikir lifted his mask slightly and sniffed the air.

    "...."

    I can smell it. An odor.

    It was extremely faint, but it was unmistakably the scent of a demon.

    The fact that the area had already been cleared of assassins meant that something was still there.

    ''But it''s strangely faint. Why?''

    It was much fainter than the usual demonic odor, and hardly noticeable.

    Vikir instructed the cub to stretch the thread and then jumped off the clock tower.

    The web ended just before he touched the ground, and the recoil caused him to bounce, flip, andnd on the ground.

    Vikir ran through the city, darting from alleyway to alleyway in the darkness.

    He ran and climbed from roof to roof, ledge to ledge, wall to wall, higher to lower, and lower still.

    Vikir eventually reached the ruins of the Indulgentia Orphanage.

    It was only a hundred meters or so away, with the Royal Cemetery on the other side.

    Moving from the outskirts of the ruins to the center, Vikir sensed something was wrong.

    ''The smell is getting fainter, then stronger.''

    The demonic stench had been diluted by something.

    A strange aura, as if human blood were mixed with half and half demonic blood.

    ''Is it possible for a demon to smell like this?''

    Even Vikir, a veteran demon hunter, had never smelled it before.

    Meanwhile.

    The ruins of Indulgentia Orphanage werepletely deserted.

    The Quovadis had finished their investigation, and no one would set foot here.

    Normally, there would be guards on duty, but with the recent wave of copycats, they''ve been short-handed.

    There''s a sign that says it''s off-limits to the public, but no one seems to be stopping Vikir, so he keeps going.

    Soon enough, Vikir was in the area where one after another of Sindiwendi''s informants had gone missing.

    And then.

    "...!"

    In one fell swoop, Vikir realized why her informants had disappeared, what made them disappear, and what happened to them and where they went.

    [...]

    The missing lower jaw, the tongue down to the corbone, had turned purple.

    His body was gassy and bloated, and the flesh that had been shed had congealed into a greasy mess.

    A few of the undead wandered through the ruins, their bodies emitting a foul odor.

    Danger Rating: C

    Size: 1.7 meters

    Found in: All continents

    -Nicknamed ''the lesser rotten''.

    Amon sight in graveyards, battlefields, abandoned houses, and sewers.

    In rural areas and run-down cities, they are almost asmon as rats.

    The dead are walking around, moaning unpleasantly.

    It was unknown what they had done in life to be walking around here now, but it was clear that at least some of them were informants for Sindiwendi.

    "Go to a good ce."

    Not that there really was a good ce.

    Vikir drew his bow from his back.

    Anubis, the bow of the Bk, a powerful ck bow that clung to Vikir''s hand like a second skin.

    "I''ve been letting this one rest too long."

    His hands felt like they were going to rot after handling nothing but entry-level bows during the Academy''s midterms.

    It is a lie to say that masters do not care about their equipment.

    If only I could get this ck bow Anubis out of there, I could smash golems and Professor Sady and everyone else.

    ''But then I''d be in trouble.''

    Anubis wouldn''t have finished her off with a single eyeball, unlike a supply bow.

    Vikir squeezed Anubis deeply, thinking to himself.

    [chuckles...]

    Madame cub, who had been clinging to Vikir''s left hand, moved back to his shoulder, apparently unhappy with Anubis.

    The ck Bow Anubis was made from the remains of Madame Eightlegs.

    The baby Madame seemed to hate traces of its mother because of the memory of being almost eaten by its mother when it was still an egg.

    It suddenly urred to me that for spiders, the parent-child rtionship may not always be so strong.

    ''Like the dogs in Baskerville.''

    And so it goes.

    Klik-

    Vikir pulled on Anubis.

    Poof! Pow!

    One by one, the heads of zombies in the distance exploded.

    The zombies shattered before they could react, and Vikir continued to follow the faint stench.

    Just then.

    "...!"

    Reaching the center of the ruins, Vikir saw a stunning sight.

    Guilty, the patriarch of House Indulgentia. And Dantalian, the ninth of the ten.

    He was dead, but one of his undead minions was still alive and well.

    Geronto.

    A lich with reddish-ck hair and a ck cloak.

    But Vikir was not surprised that Geronto had risen.

    The one who brought Geronto back to life.

    Standing in the midst of the ruins, It caught Vikir''s attention at once.

    A person who exudes overwhelming demonic energy, the source of the demonic scent that led Vikir to this ce.

    A being wearing a helm and armor made of bone, with long hair ming like red mes and a ck cloak fluttering around.

    The Eighth Corpse was there.

 Chapter 197: The Corpse Queen (2)

    <h4>Chapter 197: The Corpse Queen (2)</h4>

    Wearing a bone helmet and armor, and a cloak that seems to reflect only the darkest parts of the night sky.

    It stood at the center of the ruins, the master of the nine thousand dead who roamed thend.

    And Vikir saw right through its ominous identity.

    Danger Rating : S

    Size: ?

    Found in: ''Serpent''s Womb'', deep within the Gate of Destruction.

    -Nicknamed ''Eighth Corpse''.

    One of the Ten gues, natural enemies of mankind, iprehensible and unkible.

    "Herds of cattle and beasts shall perish."

    �C The Ten Commandments 10: Top.

    The eighth demon, Seere.

    The highest ranking demon who crossed over to wipe out mankind.

    Vikir swallowed hard, a groan boiling in the depths of his throat.

    ''... I never thought I''d meet you so soon.''

    Set, the ''Inferior Second Son'', Dantalian, the ''Face of a Thousand'', and Seere, the ''King of Corpses'', appeared rather abruptly.

    Vikir recalled a memory from before the regression.

    The ck mage was called the King of Corpses. Seere was a master of bringing the dead back to life.

    When the army of the dead, a marite circus of corpses, came to town, all living things held their breath and feared him.

    Vikir also knew the identity of the one who had contracted with the Eighth Corpse Seere.

    Unlike the other contractors of the Ten Corpses, Seere''s contractor was rtively well known.

    It was Marquis Morg Snake.

    He was the highest ranking member of the Dark Hall of the Mage Family Morg.

    Morg Snake had always secretly practiced ck magic, so he would have been a perfect match for Seere.

    ''He was a rival of the mad Adolf, and a formidable force to be reckoned with, even in his lifetime.''

    Morg Snake is a high council member of the Dark Hall, and Morg Adolf is a high council member of the Light Hall.

    For some reason, the two had not been on good terms for a long time, and the head of the family, Morg Respane, was barely able to control it.

    Before his regression, Vikir hadn''t known for what purpose Snake had contracted with Seere, but he remembered clearly enough that the results had been disastrous.

    ''This is the time when Morg Adolf is still a ss 6 Mage. If that''s the case, then Morg Snake might not be at a very high level of mage yet either....''

    But. Vikir''s thoughts were interrupted.

    The King of Corpses had sensed Vikir''s intentions.

    [...Who is there?]

    A booming voice called out.

    Surprisingly, the voice, somewhat muffled with demonic energy, clearly belonged to a woman.

    "...?"

    Only then did Vikir take a closer look at the woman.

    It was different.

    Something was different from his memory before the regression.

    Morg Snake, the man who should have been the King of Corpses, was tall and unnervingly thin.

    So much so that when he walked, he looked like a clown on a pole.

    Once a target for assassination, his appearance and strength was something Vikir knew best.

    But the King of Corpses in front of him was about the same height as Vikir, ....

    What''s more, it had a well-trained body and bnced proportions, quite unlike the Morg Snake.

    Moreover.

    ''... woman?''

    Vikir''s mouth was half open in disbelief.

    Judging by the height, chest, and hips, the Corpse King''s body was definitely female.

    Something is amiss.

    Seree''s contractor has changed.

    ording to the original history, Morg Snake should have been the contractor for Seere.

    But that was long after the fact.

    But now, Seere''s contractor is already here, and she''s nothing like Morg Snake.

    The Corpse Queen.

    A human, clearly a woman, though it was impossible to make out her face as she wore a helm made of skulls.

    She turned around, her long hair ming red beneath the skull helm that covered her entire face, and her ck cloak fluttering at the same time.

    "...."

    Vikir frowned slightly behind his mask.

    I don''t know what''s going on here, but it''s good.

    Morg Snake was a high-ranking mage who even Vikir couldn''t guarantee victory against, and if such a being had made a pact with a demon, it would have been even stronger.

    But it was not him, but someone else entirely, who became Seere''s contractor.

    The aura emanating from her is peculiarly half-human, half-demon.

    Perhaps that makes her a little easier to deal with.

    ''Luck of the draw, the heavens have helped. If I do well, I may be able to kill Eight Corpse today.''

    Debating whether or not to retreat in the face of Eight Corpse, Vikir turned toward the battle.

    At the crossroads of death or death.

    The demon and the demon hunter faced off.

    * * *

    The devastation minutes before Vikir''s arrival.

    [....]

    The Corpse Queen.

    She stared at the ruins of what was left of the building.

    I don''t know what happened, but there must have been some sort of massive explosion.

    [Dantalian, you lowly thief, how dare you steal from me.....]

    At the same time, she stretched out her hand and emitted an aura that was like the darkness of the abyss.

    Crackle- crackle- crackle- crackle-.

    Suddenly, the pieces scattered throughout the remains moved and gathered into thin air.

    Bitterness, sadness, anger, hatred, longing....

    Drops of congealed blood, torn flesh, shattered bones, missing hair....

    Traces of the dead that have not yet been sorted out remain tangled here and there, without distinction between those of the soul and those of the body.

    They have gathered in one ce at the call of the Queen.

    Crackle, crackle, crackle!

    A ck magic circle appeared from nothing, and a woman''s body began to regenerate on top of it.

    Geronto. The red-haired undead reappeared.

    The Corpse Queen looked at the resurrected Geronto and stroked her hair.

    [...So Seere''s power is working to some extent, the ability to ''find the person you want to find''].

    The Corpse Queen stroked Geronto''s hair as if she were handling something very precious.

    [''Rose'', I managed to find this child, but I still couldn''t find... who I really wanted to find. Perhaps I shouldn''t have believed everything the demon said].

    A Demon Contractor. But I have yet to make that power fully mine.

    So, The Corpse Queen was working hard on her closed training without missing a single day.

    She had closed herself off from the world.

    [After all, ... the only way to fully master this power is to cross the gates of death once and for all, for now I am only halfway there].

    I have not yet made the powerpletely my own.

    So when I brought Geronto back to life, I wasted mana unnecessarily, raising up a bunch of random corpses as gue.

    I still need to train more to be able to use my power where it''s needed.

    And then.

    [...!]

    The Corpse Queen sensed an unwee visitor.

    A monstrous figure in ck robes and a gue doctor''s mask.

    An ominous aura radiated from him.

    "Eight Corpse Seere. ''King of Corpses''. You are my copycat."

    An eerie voice modtion came from his mouth.

    The Night Hound. The worst viin to terrorize the Imperial City, and indeed the entire Empire, in recent times.

    The Corpse Queen, however, shook her head at the sight of the Night Hound.

    [Who are you?]

    "Do you not know me?"

    [I don''t know you.]

    "You don''t seem interested in what''s going on in the world. Don''t you even read the newspaper?"

    The Corpse Queen snorted lightly at the Night Hound''s question.

    [...Newspaper? Why would I read such a thing. I have no more interest in this world].

    Yes, I do. Newspapers are a tool to inform us of worldly events.

    Those who have no interest in the affairs of this world have no need for newspapers.

    The Night Hound and The Corpse Queen. Two masked men and women face each other.

    Neither revealed their identities to the other, but the enemy they harbored was clear.

    "The demon ys."

    [Do it if you can].

    The Night Hound drew his ck bow, Anubis.

    The Corpse Queen also summoned her dead soldiers, including Geronto.

    Cuddle-Up.

    Deep underground in the Orphanage. Unexcavated bones, flesh, and ghosts rose to their feet.

    Danger Rating: C

    Size: 1.7 meters

    Found in: All continents

    -Name: ''The Bone Man''.

    Amon wraith that can be found in graveyards, battlefields, abandoned houses, and sewers.

    In rural areas and run-down cities, they are almost asmon as rats.

    Danger Rating : C

    Size: ?

    Found in: All continents

    -Name: ''The ghostly remnant''.

    A ubiquitous wraith that can be found in graveyards, battlefields, abandoned houses, and sewers.

    In rural areas and run-down cities, they are almost asmon as rats.

    Danger Rating: C+.

    Size: 1 meter

    Found on: All continents

    -Name ''corpse eater''. Ghoul.

    A low-level demon that can be found in graveyards, battlefields, abandoned buildings, sewers, and other ces where corpses are found.

    They are not a resurrected form of the dead, but an entirely different species of undead that twists to feed on corpses.

    Unusually, ghouls are not known to be an undead creature born from the dead, and it is said that once a ghoul has died, it cannot be reborn as an undead again.

    In other words, it''s not known where theye from or where they go.

    Skeletons, zombies, ghosts, and ghouls. The most basic forms that make up the ck Mage''s army of the dead.

    As ce is ce, many of the resurrected undead were once children of the orphanage or were twisted to feast on its corpses.

    Tsk.

    The Corpse Queen clicked her tongue at the gathering undead.

    As if she didn''t want them around.

    Then the night hound''s attention was drawn to a skeleton in the forefront of the group.

    Rattle.

    A golden ne glowed brightly around the small skeleton''s neck.

    ''Nymphet''

    The moment he saw the words.

    "...."

    The Night Hound bared his teeth.

    "You will not die a pretty death."

    Fierce. Even more fiercely.

 Chapter 198: The Corpse Queen (3)

    <h4>Chapter 198: The Corpse Queen (3)</h4>

    Night hound in ck robes and a gue doctor''s mask.

    The Corpse Queen, her skeletal armor and helmet hiding her true identity.

    In the center of the battlefield, where everything had fallen apart, a man and a woman stood tall.

    "Dogs live on bones."

    [Dogs that don''t know the meaning of the word and show their teeth should be boiled].

    Vikir drew on his mana.

    At the same time, the hatchling on his left wrist spewed out a web toward the front.

    Zap-!

    The white mucus, scattered like a sticky mist, spread out in a web, blocking the opponent''s vision.

    The Corpse Queen, who had been hit in the face by the web, wiped it away with the hem of her cloak.

    [...what a dirty trick].

    Her reaction made one thing clear to Vikir.

    ''The current Corpse Queen is weaker than the Corpse King before he was turned.''

    The ''King of Corpses'', who dominated the Age of Destruction, was the owner of the Nine Heaven''s Tomb and a fearsome demon who ruled the Sisan Blood Sea.

    How many mortals have despaired in the face of his terrifying ck magic as he raised countless dead soldiers and retrieved the corpses of the dead.

    If Morg Snake had be King of Corpses as I remembered before my regression, he would not have batted an eye at such an attack.

    However, the current Corpse Queen was too inexperienced in battle to react to such a mild attack.

    ''You''ve only been under contract for a short time, so you still have the memories of your human past. When you were still a novice ck mage....''

    That had been the case with Set Les Baskerville, who had also been contracted by Andromalius.

    The fear of Hugo that lingered in his bones even after his death, a fear that Set''s body remembered, had caused Andromalius to fail at a crucial moment.

    And it seemed to be a simr case with the contractor from Seere in front of him now.

    ''Perhaps it''s even weaker than Andromalius the 10th or Dantalian the 9th.

    Even though he couldn''t let his guard down with a demon of the demon king ss in front of him, he still felt slightly more hopeful.

    Flicker.

    Vikir took a step back after the corpse queen''s web blocked his view of her.

    ''Intercept with bow as far as possible, then sword if distance closes.''

    The Corpse Queen does not know the Night Hound.

    It had the far greater advantage of not knowing whether his primary weapon was a bow or a sword, while he knew her primary weapon was ck magic.

    Vikir stepped back as the Madame cub drew back the cobwebs, and then quickly drew his Anubis.

    ck Bow Anubis. A legendary bow with five quivers.

    Vikir drew five arrows and fed them to the shafts, then nocked them.

    Then.

    [...!]

    The sight of Vikir''s bow stance froze the Corpse Queen in ce for a moment.

    The eyes within the skeleton''s orbit wavered.

    A slight agitation. It subsided in an instant, and what took its ce was....

    [You! You barbarian! I''ll kill you! I''ll kill you...!]

    It was a rage so fierce that it could have burned the whole world to the ground.

    It heated up so much that ck mes red up around it, turning it into a sea of fire.

    Even Vikir was stunned by its terrifying power.

    "What is it? Why is it burning?

    I don''t know what made her so angry.

    However, the corpse queen, who had been calm until just now, suddenly changed her demeanor and began to close the distance between them, before spewing out an infernal rage.

    [You filthy barbarian, why don''t you try blocking me with that little bow of yours!]

    At the same time, the mes began to take the shape of an extremely long spear.

    Quack, quack, quack!

    As if he was facing a berserker, Vikir rolled on the ground to avoid the spear.

    ng! ng! ng, ng, ng!

    There wasn''t just one spear of fire.

    Dozens of ck spears flew across the ground.

    The soil and stones in their path are melted away by the infernal fire and scattered.

    The wastnd is turning into ava field.

    ...Pot!

    Vikir rolls on the ground, dodging a spear of fire.

    Crunch!

    The ground caved in, and then spikes of steel began to rise from the bottom of the pit.

    [Dead Pool!]

    The rebar with its sharpened tips snaked out of the death pit created by the Corpse Queen, aimed at Vikir like a snake.

    Pooh-pooh-pooh!

    The steel snakes burrowed into his body.

    In an instant, Vikir was pierced by countless bars.

    [You lowly barbarian, you shout and you look bad].

    The Corpse Queen slowed her pace, as if sensing that the battle was over.

    But.

    " ...I know. I know it''s only half the battle, but it''s still a battle."

    Vikir pulled the rebar out of his body with too much ease.

    Thud, thud, thud!

    The iron spikes fall to the ground.

    The bog smander''s wraith, trapped within the magic sword Beelzebub, regenerated the wound in an instant.

    Tsutsutsutsuts...

    By the time Vikir climbed out of the pit of death, all of his wounds had healed.

    Only the cloak that covered him was slightly tattered.

    [...What? How?]

    The Corpse Queen tilted her head in disbelief.

    But the Night Hound did not answer the demon''s question.

    Vikir closed the distance again and fired another arrow.

    Puff-puff-puff!

    Five arrows flew in near session.

    Vikir had unleashed the skill of all the Bk warriors, especially Aiyen, who was the best bowman of them all.

    Each arrow curved in a different direction, but all were aimed at the same bullseye.

    [...This must be the archery of those hideous ''Bk''; I tried to be moderate, but no, I won''t kill you nicely].

    The corpse queen''s neck was covered in blood.

    Gurgle!

    Next, the four elements tainted by the dark mana simultaneously formed a whirlwind.

    ck ice, ck fire, ck earth, ck wind, and ck skewers flew toward Vikir.

    This much multicasting would be unthinkable for most mages.

    But Vikir was used to this sort of thing.

    He had seen too many outrageous things in his past life.

    Chark-

    Vikir flicked his left hand.

    The wire from his sleeve caught on the steel frame of the half-destroyed building.

    [Pow!]

    Madame cub. The thread from the creature''s mouth sent Vikir flying through the air, and he was soon out of the magical storm.

    At the same time.

    Puff-puff-puff!

    Another bolt of arrows flew, aimed at the Corpse Queen.

    Thud!

    The skeletons, zombies, and ghouls that rose from the ground gathered together to block the arrows.

    However.

    ...BANG!

    The wall of bone and flesh shattered far too easily.

    Chiiiit!

    The arrows melted everything they touched.

    The powerful poisonous aura that Anubis possessed was enough to make even the Corpse Queen retreat.

    The Corpse Queen took Geronto''s hand, which she had revived earlier, and stepped back.

    [What a disgusting poison, these barbarians know how to take and ruin the precious things of others].

    "...Do you hate the natives of the ck Mountain?"

    [Hate them? Hahaha-]

    The Corpse Queenughed once in disbelief.

    Then, she pursed her lips, which were barely visible beneath her bony mask, and asked.

    [I know the archery you use, what is your rtionship with the ''Night Fox'' and her child?]

    Vikir answered the question as if he knew something.

    "I am the hunting party of Bk."

    And with that, the corpse queen''s fury was unleashed.

    [Then you must have been ''there'' on ''that night'' as well, and I cannot forgive you for that!]

    With that, the Corpse Queen drew something from within her cloak.

    It was a ck bag, ominously ck and dripping with mana.

    Flutter.

    The Corpse Queen snatched the ck bag and tossed it to the ground.

    Immediately, the contents of the bag rushed out.

    Dalgraak- Dalgraak- Tektegurrrr...

    It was bones.

    Bones covered in ash and the teeth marks of wild beasts, as if they had been burned and then eaten.

    What''s more, almost all of them were broken and cracked, as if they hadn''t died a good death in the first ce.

    The Corpse Queen threw them to the ground and imbued them with dark mana.

    Tsutsutsutsutsuts...

    Soon, the bones began to rattle and move.

    A shroud of darkness settled over them like a veil, allowing them to lead their miserable lives once more.

    Vikir stared at the new undead that had taken on another life before his eyes.

    It was a skeleton, a living corpse, covered only in dried flesh.

    A high ranking dead man, wrapped in dark mana like a shroud.

    <Lich

    Danger rating: A+.

    Size: 3 meters

    Found in: Abyssal Edge

    -Named the Exalted Dead.

    Some mages have transcended the bounds of time and created a whole new kind of bondage.

    A giant, mysterious hand lurks at the bottom of the Abyss of Witchcraft, and by binding their souls to the dark chains of its grasp, they have be immortal.

    ... but they didn''t know it.

    If a person dies at my age and then gains immortality, will his age still be my age? Or would he age even after achieving immortality?

    Mages who became lichs because they were blinded by the desire for immediate achievement were separated from the world and sank deep into the abyss without even going through proper funeral procedures. After a long time, even their bodies were no longer left, and they crumbled to dust.

    But even then, only the souls trapped at the bottom of the abyss remain, still thinking of themselves as mages.

    Forever.

    Lich. An extremely dangerous demon.

    An entity far more powerful and terrifying than even the Gerontos he had faced before.

    [grrrr...]

    The new Lich mmed into the ground with a snap of its jaws andnded in front of the Corpse Queen.

    And then.

    "...?"

    For some reason, Vikir thought, the lich''s face looked quite familiar.

    [Yes. A barbarian of Bk is a barbarian of Bk].

    The corpse queenughed in a voice that sounded like she had cried so hard she was hoarse.

    Purr!

    The Lich draws dark mana at the Queen''smand.

    Vikir recognized the face of this revived Lich as a high-ranking undead.

    "...!"

    Brown skin, hair a mixture of ck and silver.

    Beneath the mask, Vikir''s eyes widened to piercing slits.

    Vikir knew what that man looked like in real life.

    No, he didn''t just know it, he knew it very well.

    ...How could he forget?

    That it was the same face he''d spent thest two years with in Bk''s tribe.

 Chapter 199: The Corpse Queen (4)

    <h4>Chapter 199: The Corpse Queen (4)</h4>

    "...ahhhhhh?

    Vikir expressed his disbelief through his mask.

    The undead in front of him was skeletal, but clearly had brown skin and flowing hair that was a mixture of silver and ck hair.

    Moreover, the tattoos on its body were unmistakably Bk''s.

    Ahheman, the Shaman of Bk.

    A ck mage of considerable distinction, born of the shamanic tribe Rokoko.

    Yes, he was definitely dead.

    He was crushed and shattered by Iliad''s battle with Vikir, and eventually burned to death at the hands of his own people.

    But his gritty life force.

    And the tenacity, inferiorityplex, grief, anger, jealousy, despair, greed, frustration, and hatred that he harbored to the very end have brought him to this ce as an undead.

    Now there is no native shaman who was once so ancient and honored.

    [ttagag- ttagagag- ttag!]

    However, only the undead, whose only way to express themselves is by shing their teeth, remain ugly.

    Meanwhile.

    The Corpse Queen looked at the lich she had created from the corpse of Ahheman and said.

    [The corpse of a ck mage, picked up rtively recently, a good thing from the depth of the ck & Red Mountain].

    Ahheman was an ugly twisted creature on the inside, but otherwise a formidable force to be reckoned with in terms of qualities and talents,parable to Morg Adolf.

    He would have been a formidable foe, even for a Vikir, if he had focused on the ways of the Mage from an early age instead of trying to impersonate a warrior.

    But he was eventually consumed by the Abyss, unable to ovee the inferiorityplex and sense of victimization that consumed his soul.

    The ssic case of a talented, perverse mage being consumed by the Abyss of Magic. That is the Lich.

    [ttagag- ttag- ttattag-]

    A skeleton whose lips had rotted away, leaving his teeth and rotten gums exposed, Ahheman could only grind his teeth together to make a sound, unable to speak, as if he had lost all sense of self.

    He was a faithful puppet, doing the Corpse Queen''s will.

    "Why is Ahheman''s body here when it should be in the ck & Red Mountain?

    Vikir pondered for a moment.

    After all, hadn''t a knight from Don Quixote''s Family been a puppet of Dantalian''s not too long ago?

    Furthermore, Staffordshire of the Baskervilles, Mozgus of the Quovadis, and Rose of the Morg had all fallen prey to the demon as living corpse puppets.

    This shoulde as no surprise, as collecting corpses and turning them into puppets is the demon''s specialty.

    Vikir didn''t have time to ponder this.

    [ttag- ttagag- ttagagag-]

    The sound of teeth and jawbone colliding is loud.

    Ahheman''s lich shifted, and an unpleasant aura began to fill the air.

    Tsutsutsutsutsuts...

    The bones began to move again.

    Vikir narrowed his eyes.

    Ahheman''s specialty in life had been ying with the dead.

    And now that he was a Lich, the stench was even more vile, threatening the entire battlefield.

    Whoosh! Whoosh!

    A ck air currents rushed around Ahheman, and the dead around him came back to life.

    Surprisingly, even Ephebo, Pedo, and Hebe, who had been killed by Vikir earlier against the Dantalians, came back to life.

    [grrr...]

    [giggle- giggle-]

    [Swoosh! Swoosh!]

    Unlike Geronto, who was brought back to life with a clean look, Ephebo, Pedo, and Hebe were in a state of disrepair.

    But Vikir soon realized that they didn''t need to be restored to good looks.

    Pow! Woodchuck!

    He waved his hand, and the three undead began to merge into one.

    The bodies of Hebe, Ephebo, and Pedo merged into one, eachpensating for a missing body part.

    Danger rating: A+.

    Size: 8 meters

    Found in: Nine Heaven''s Tomb

    -Nicknamed the ''Giant of the Flesh Wall''.

    A golem made from the flesh of once living things. Misceneous meat is made by lumping meat together like y and roughly imitating the shape of a human being, with almost no trace of the original material remaining.

    They are filthy, unclean, and unholy, but their power is said to be real.

    Another higher undead has arisen.

    Powerful limbs sprouted from its sturdy flesh, and its gnarled, distorted face lifted its head to re at Vikir.

    [ttagag- ttag!]

    [Gurgle... gurgle-]

    The lich and the ragged golem surround Vikir.

    At the same time, the dark spear summoned by the lich and the fist of the raggedy golem flew at the same time.

    "...hmm."

    Two A+ Danger sses would be a difficult opponent for even Vikir to deal with.

    Moreover, the Lich and the Rags Golem were both high-level creatures that were difficult to figure out how to defeat at this point, so Vikir had no choice but to keep retreating.

    By this time, the Corpse Queen''s infernal fire had begun to burn.

    Quack, quack, quack!

    A spear of fire flew out and caught Vikir off guard.

    The ground that the spear sliced through was immediately transformed into a longva tube that began to bubble and boil.

    [Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!]

    The raggedy golem began to press down on Vikir with its massive bulk.

    The Lich of Ahheman also summoned ck mes, grinding his teeth and jawbone together.

    Vikir fires back with arrows, but is unable tond a critical hit on the Corpse Queen due to the meat shield the Rags Golem creates as it throws its entire body at him.

    Then, the Corpse Queen and the two high-ranking undead under hermand began to prepare for the final blow.

    The dark clouds in the sky swirled and ominous mana pulsed.

    And Vikir had a hunch.

    ''Fighting with only a bow has its limits.''

    The Corpse Queen can create fire spears and deadpools to intercept enemies at a distance.

    The Lich, too, can use the roots of nts pulled from the depths of hell to attack enemies from a distance, while the Ragged Golem can use itsrge, tough body to block attacks from the opposite direction.

    In the end, the power of the ck Bow Anubis alone can only do so much.

    Vikir is just about to draw his sword.

    [Hmph-]

    The wrist of his left hand suddenly feels empty.

    Turning his head, he sees the hatchling on the ground, running wildly into the distance.

    Didn''t they say that animals sense danger in advance?

    Like a rat running away from a shipwreck or a catfish swimming to another river to escape an earthquake, the cub had left Vikir''s body.

    A pet leaving its owner in a life-or-death situation?

    It was a deeply ominous sign, but Vikir turned his head unconcerned.

    "...Yes. You should live."

    No need to get caught up in someone else''s fight.

    This cub has just hatched from an egg, so it will still have a long life ahead of it.

    ''It''ll be a long time before it grows up to be as big as its mother.''

    One concern was that there would be space in this Imperial City for him to forage and stay warm.

    ''Please, stay out of sight of humans and survive to the end.''

    Vikir tore his gaze away from the retreating cub and turned back to the corpse queen.

    yet.

    [...Die, barbarian].

    The corpse queen raised a ck sun above her head.

    The infernal mes bubbled and boiled like oil.

    A ck aer stretched out like a coiled snake.

    "...."

    Vikir crouched low to the ground where the pir of frightening mes fell.

    Kiriririk-quack!

    The ck vines of the Infernal Tree that Lich had summoned and the giant hands of the Ragged Golem had sealed off Vikir''s escape route.

    Vikir gritted his teeth.

    ''Truly rotten. King of Corpses.''

    Even though it was only half a human, its power was immense.

    However, Vikir did not back down either.

    Go-o-o-o-o...

    Having already killed Andromalius and Dantalian, the experience imprinted on his body and soul elerated the mana coursing through his veins, harder and faster.

    Baskerville Seventh Form.

    A small but distinct seventh tooth in the aura of a Peak Graduator.

    Purr-.

    Vikir drew the magic sword Beelzebub from his wrist and swung it lightly once.

    The seemingly insignificant movement, like the pping of a butterfly''s wings, instantly created a tremendous ripple.

    Kurrrrrr!

    Spinning in a circle at high speed, the aura storm soon formed a sphere, emitting a blinding red light.

    A ck aura sun rested on the tip of a tall sword, preparing to descend.

    At the same time.

    Quack, quack, quack!

    The Infernal Tree summoned by the lich, the body of the rag golem, and the aura emitted by Vikir shed head-on.

    The shredded roots of the Infernal Tree and the body of the Ragged Golem.

    The seven teeth of the night hound gathered together in the shape of a sphere and soon viciously attacked everything that stood in their way.

    And the final battle is the ck Sun summoned by the Corpse Queen.

    Uh-oh!

    Vikir''s crimson sun and the corpse queen''s ck sun shed together to form a penumbra.

    The half-destroyed buildings werepletely destroyed.

    Stone shattered into sand, and sand boiled.

    Steel rebar melted like cheese in the hot winds blowing from the center of the collision.

    Everything was falling to pieces on the battlefield.

    "...!"

    Vikir suddenly saw something strange.

    It was the eyes of the Corpse Queen.

    The corpse queen''s red eyes shining through her skull helmet.

    Morg Snake, who was supposed to be the Corpse King. Those eyes that were so different, yet somehow so familiar.

    [...!?]

    Her eyes glowed with the reflection of the magic sword that was emanating from Vikir''s hand and the aura it carried.

    And at the same time.

    [... Now, wait a minute!]

    The Corpse Queen cried out when she saw Vikir''s aura.

    Her tone was both urgent and desperate.

 Chapter 200: The Corpse Queen (5)

    <h4>Chapter 200: The Corpse Queen (5)</h4>

    ...Boom!

    The world crumbled into ckness.

    Vikir stepped back, feeling his entire body turning into mud.

    Thick blood and bits of guts leak from his mouth. His vision blurred and his body refused to respond.

    Vikir drew upon the power of his magic sword, Beelzebub, to restore himself.

    Tsutsutsutsuts-

    Though it took a great deal of stamina and mana, Vikir was able to reattach broken bones and repair torn muscles.

    However, he was unable to regenerate the numerous wounds across his body, as most of his strength was spent repairing his core skeleton, guts, muscles, and severed organs.

    Vikir thought as he touched his bloodied body, the mask barely covering his face.

    ''I''ll never make it back to the Academy in this condition.''

    Tudor, Sancho, and Piggy would be horrified if they saw him now.

    Then.

    [hack-hack-hack-]

    There was a presence clinging to his left wrist.

    Madame cub. The little guy had returned.

    " ...Thank you. You saved my life."

    Vikir stroked the cub''s head.

    Just before the sh with the Corpse Queen, there was a thread that grabbed the back of Vikir''s neck as he was caught in the explosion.

    A thread that the cub had secretly attached to the back of Vikir''s head. A sturdy lifeline that had survived the maelstrom of mana without breaking.

    It was connected to a rock behind it.

    The cub tugged Vikir onto that rock, and it was only because of it that Vikir narrowly escaped the explosion.

    If not for the thread, he would have been mortally wounded, unable to regenerate even with the power of Beelzebub.

    Meanwhile.

    Passtssss...

    The Lich of Ahheman and the Ragged Golem crumbled to dust and vanished.

    And behind them, the Corpse Queen stood tall.

    ...But then.

    Thump!

    The corpse queen dropped to one knee.

    She was motionless, probably stunned by the shock of the mana backflowing into her body.

    " ...Since you''re half-demon, half-human, the effects of the mana backflow must be even greater."

    Vikir stared at the corpse queen.

    He remembered herst, fleeting words, just before the confrontation.

    ''... Now, wait a minute!''

    Why did the Corpse Queen lose focus at such a crucial moment?

    Thanks to her distraction, Vikir was able to shatter the ck Sun, a mana concentration in the negative dimension, with his seven teeth.

    Although it was only half, the power of the Eight Corpse was strong. As time passes, it will be stronger.

    "...Must be killed here and now."

    I don''t know why the Corpse Queen takes her power at the end, but that''s not what matters now.

    The Corpse Queeny defenseless, the eighth corpse, Seere. I had to kill her now.

    Jeopuk- Jeopuk- Jeopuk-

    Vikir walked forward with the magic sword Beelzebub hanging down.

    Blood oozed from his ragged body, making long snail-like tracks on the floor.

    Then.

    [... Don''t.]

    The corpse queen''s mouth opened.

    Her head drooped like a condemned man about to be hanged, her skull mask already shattered, her face invisible.

    But her lips were definitely moist.

    [...Don''t leave me].

    A muffled, disheveled tone. Then a faint noise. It was a sob.

    Apparently, the Corpse Queen had a story.

    But.

    "There is no grave in the world without a story."

    Vikir''s grip on his sword tightened.

    Who among the undead didn''t have some sort of excuse, or story to tell.

    Vikir didn''t care what kind of life the woman in front of him had lived before bing the Corpse Queen, or what kind of story she had to tell.

    For he had a greater mission than all of that.

    To avenge his own fleeting death, that of hisrades-in-arms, and that of humanity as a whole.

    To stop the age of destruction.

    That''s what brought the Night Hound back to his feet after his fall.

    And with that, Vikir stood before the Corpse Queen.

    "...."

    The corpse queen shook her head, unmoving. She fainted and let out an unconscious sob.

    Then Vikir lifted Beelzebub high into the air.

    The sword, sharp as a guillotine preparing to fall, will soon separate the Eight Corpse from her neck and body.

    This is the moment when the third demon is hunted.

    And now.

    Pow!

    The sword fell.

    Thus, a total of three of the Ten Demons are killed. The age of destruction is pushed back. A fitting tribute to the manyrades who died in the blink of an eye.

    But. Things don''t always go ording to n.

    ng!

    There was a presence blocking the magic sword Beelzebub.

    "...Geronto!"

    Vikir''s brow furrowed.

    A metal skewer blocking a dark red sword.

    The mage who had gone by the name of Morg Rose in the past had be a lich and was blocking Vikir.

    ng!

    The skewer broke, but it managed to deflect Beelzebub.

    Vikir staggered backward.

    Now, Geronto''s dark mana began to spew out mes and metal skewers everywhere.

    Vikir adjusted his mask, thinking.

    "Dantalian''s minions... are a pain in the ass."

    At this point, he was stuck.

    He''d seen Geronto''s power before. He was no match for her, especially in his current state of exhaustion from fighting the Corpse Queen.

    Vikir took a few steps back, creating distance. Every inch was good, and he needed to give his body time to recover.

    What?

    Surprisingly, Geronto didn''t pursue Vikir.

    Instead, she politely picked up the corpse queen who had fallen behind her.

    "...?"

    Vikir shook his head.

    By nature, the undead, the dead, are jealous of what they don''t have.

    That''s why they blindly bite and rob the living.

    The same is true for the raised undead

    Their first priority is to attack the nearest living being rather than defend their master, which is fine as long as the master is strong-willed, but once the master is unconscious, the undead are out of control.

    But what about now?

    Geronto holds the Corpse Queen close to his heart.

    It hasn''t even bothered to attack Vikir, who is now in a state of exhaustion.

    ''What? No way....''

    It''s one of two things. Either Geronto is not a normal undead, or the Corpse Queen''s spirit remains strong on this battlefield.

    ''Maybe both.''

    Geronto is undead, so it''s safe to assume that the Corpse Queen''s mind is still roaming the battlefield, controlling Geronto.

    The idea is.

    ''Do not attack the author.''

    It''s a will to avoid fighting Vikir.

    In the final confrontation, and now in Geronto''s case, the Corpse Queen seemed to have no intention of fighting Vikir.

    ''What the hell, how could you....''

    Vikir frowned.

    The mysterious woman who had be the Corpse Queen in ce of Morg Snake. As a Demon Contractor, why was she acting so strangely?

    His vision blurring, his breath quickening, Vikir tried to gather his thoughts, but he couldn''t focus.

    And then, taking advantage of the gap, Geronto drew a circle of magic.

    Pow!

    It was a teleportation magic circle.

    A blue light burst forth, teleporting Geronto and the sleeping Corpse Queen in her arms.

    "Chet-"

    Vikir drew his ck bow, Anubis, and fired an arrow, but Geronto''s teleportation was half as fast.

    sh!

    In the blink of an eye, the two women disappeared in front of Vikir.

    "Did I miss ...?"

    Vikir sighed and leaned back against the molten steel.

    It was the usual: a surprise when you weren''t ready. The future unexpectedly changed. These variables had caused me to lose sight of my goal.

    For the first time, I failed in my assassination.

    "Afterthought. Still, I knew I had a chance against the Eighth Demon. He''s still a weak demon."

    Vikir muttered to himself as he patted the hatchling that was spewing threads into his arm to form a cast.

    Suddenly, there was amotion around him.

    ...sh!

    Torches and mana lights were lighting up the area.

    As you turn your head toward the low ground below, you see guards approaching at full alert, having heard themotion.

    I also hear a familiar voice.

    "Hohoho- this way! It must be the Night Hound! Come on, pigs, follow me!"

    One eye, high heels, and a thorn whip wrapped around a slim waist.

    The Imperial Guard, led by Professor Sady, was rushing toward them.

    "...You''ve be a nuisance."

    Vikir melted into the darkness, his body covered in tattered ck cloth.

    With Mushu Hushu''s ability to glide through the darkness without making a sound, it wasn''t hard for Vikir to escape the encirclement.

    Taking the cub''s thread, Vikir ascended to the heights of the ruins, crossing the void in an instant to reach the skyscrapers outside of the encirclement.

    ... Tuck!

    Reaching the ground below the building, Vikir looked back at the ruins in the distance and smiled bitterly.

    "I don''t know what I''m going to tell the kids about this."

    Just like back in Dantalisan, his body would be wracked with the after-effects and fatigue for some time.

    Midterms are over and the festival season is upon us, so I could use a break.

    It''s also a good idea to check yourself into the nurse''s office with the excuse of overwork.

    ''Three days, in which to recover, and then we''ll go in search of the Eight Corpse.''

    Vikir adjusted his Picaresque mask as he thought.

    And then.

    Vikir''s body transformed.

    hack-hack-hack

    An exhausted-looking ck puppy with severe wounds all over its body trotted toward the Academy.

 Chapter 201: Mixed Bath (1)

    <h4>Chapter 201: Mixed Bath (1)</h4>

    The center of the Imperial City.

    The Academy''s walls rise high in the center of the bridge over the gently flowing waterway.

    The bridge is quiet at dawn. There are few passersby along the usually bustling streets, only a few hardworking individuals who have started their day early.

    Vikir crosses the bridge and makes his way to the Academy.

    Slowly, slowly.

    He was in worse shape than he thought.

    The blood from his back had congealed and stopped bleeding, but the energy that had been drained from him was slow to return.

    ''Even with the resilience I gained by changing into a dog''s body, I''ll barely be able to survive this... in a human body.''

    Perhaps in a human body, he would have passed out already.

    With that, Vikir dragged his crumbling body and barely made it to the outer walls of the academy.

    Hack.

    A ck puppy walking with its tongue hanging out.

    The guards patrolling the Academy''s outer walls spotted Vikir like that.

    "What a cute little puppy, and he''s so tiny."

    "Hey, hey, don''t touch him. It looks like a sick dog. What if it gets something dirty?"

    "It''s dirty, let''s get rid of it."

    One of the guards tried to pet Vikir, but the other guard next to him stopped him.

    Pow!

    The other guard walked out with a sullen look on his face and kicked Vikir.

    Getting his ass handed to him, Vikir was forced to walk away.

    The guards giggled at Vikir and then walked away without looking back.

    ''...What a pitiful stray dog.''

    It''s not like I hadn''t been on the streets before, so I knew that life on the streets was hard.

    However, the feeling of the streets for humans and the feeling of the streets for dogs were worlds apart.

    Vikir gritted his teeth and stuck to the outside of the wall.

    He walked as close to the wall as he could without being seen.

    Even a casual passerby would be wary and move away.

    He didn''t know when he would be attacked again.

    "Whoa, whoa, whoa, look!"

    A drunken passerby pulls a sausage out of his pocket and throws it at him, but of course he doesn''t eat it.

    In fact, it only makes him move further away from the dangerous creature.

    "What a stubborn dog."

    The drunk shakes the sausage a few times before dropping it on the ground and walking away.

    ''....''

    Vikir walks silently against the wall.

    His eyes scanning his surroundings, but his mind reying the previous battle with the Eight Corpse.

    Morg Snake should have been the Corpse King long ago.

    Sindiwendi had given him a progress report not long ago, and so far he hasn''t shown any signs of disturbance.

    ''Looks like he''s still human.''

    And at that point, the Corpse Queen appeared. What does this mean?

    The corpse of Gerontoe and Ahheman.

    And thest thing she said was....

    There was more to think about.

    When it came down to it, the main reason he couldn''t end the Corpse Queen''s life was hisck of swordsmanship.

    Vikir remembered Hugo''s performance against Andromalius.

    The seven teeth he had created with a single blow, the upper and lower jaws that had closed like the gills of a monster, the way he had split the sky in seven.

    They were the same Baskerville seven, but Vikir''s seven and Hugo''s seven were different.

    That would be the gap between Graduotor and Swordmaster.

    However, there was a moment when Vikir crossed the gap and reached the level of Master.

    It was against Dantalian, when he received the buff from Saintess Dolores.

    For a brief moment, Vikir''s power rivaled Hugo''s, and he was able to turn Dantalian''s back on him.

    The problem is, even without the saintess''s help, you need to be able to summon that much power to survive the fight ahead.

    If you want to reach the peak of your powers as soon as possible, you need to.... .... ....

    ''...I''ve lost too much blood, and my thoughts keep getting interrupted.''

    I have a lot to think about, but my concentration is slipping.

    He needed to find a safe ce to rest before he could formte his next n and take action.

    ''Let''s get back to the academy. I need to get to my dorm or the infirmary and get some sleep....''

    Vikir dug his forepaws into the ground and made a burrow.

    The opening beneath the rampart-like wall had been filled with softened soil and fallen leaves, making it easy to dig back in.

    Vikir had just dug a hole under the wall and entered the academy.

    He heard the sound ofughter from the bushes.

    "Ugh, I''ve been drinking too much, I''m getting sleepy."

    "Let''s just burn this one and get back inside."

    "It''s almost dawn."

    Three boys and three girls were leaning against the fence, flirting.

    They reeked of alcohol and cigarettes and hadn''t slept until this hour.

    Vikir saw the scars that still marked their foreheads.

    X

    The scars are familiar.

    Because they were all made by Vikir himself.

    ''...The sophomores who used to bully Piggy.''

    A bunch of low-life scumbags who thought it was the beginning of the school year and picked on Piggy because he was nervous.

    So Vikir had followed them, masked, and once dragged them into a back alley to give them a good beating when they went outside the academy.

    At that point, Vikir pulled out a sword and carved a cross-shaped scar into the bullies'' foreheads.

    ''If you ever make a nuisance of yourselves inside the academy again, I will not only kill you, but also your father and mother,'' he said.

    The murderous threat was a bonus.

    Ever since they''d been beaten to a pulp by the masked Vikir, the six had been living like rats in the academy.

    They usually insulted and bullied not only their juniors, but also their ssmates, even their seniors, if they seemed a little weak.

    However, if they think they are stronger or have a higher status than them, they are despicable servants who will fart and grovel, regardless of whether they are a junior, ssmate, or senior.

    But after being exposed to overwhelming violence and fear, they barely breathe inside the academy.

    Who? Who had paid for the assault? And then to harm their parents?

    There were too many people to pinpoint the culprits.

    All they could do was grit their teeth and relive the karma they had umted, not knowing when or where retribution would strike again.

    Once the bullies were silenced, there were fewer problems in the academy.

    ...But, did I mention that people are not meant to be fixed?

    They were hiding in fear of being watched, but their caution didn''t extend to the puppy, who had nowhere to go.

    "Huh? What the fuck, asshole."

    One of the boys, who had been drinking from a bottle, spotted Vikir emerging from the bushes.

    Vikir turned his head to look away. The dog''s body had recovered quickly, but the wounds on his body still hadn''t fully healed.

    The six sophomores giggled and surrounded Vikir.

    "Hey, is it okay for stray dogs to roam around the academy like this?"

    "They''ll spread disease. Let''s clean it up. It''s a nice thing to do, picking up trash."

    "I''ve been under a lot of stresstely. Let''s tie him up somewhere."

    "Shall we burn it alive?"

    "A, poor thing, just throw him in the sewer over there and be done with it."

    "Ah, I suddenly remember that masked bastard. Next time I see him, I''m going to carve a knife mark in his skull just like that. Let''s practice first and carve it into that bastard''s body."

    The six bullies giggle, holding cigarette butts and daggers in their hands.

    Several throw lit cigarette butts at Vikir, and a few throw liquor bottles at him, shattering them.

    Spitting and kicking weremonce.

    Vikir thought for a moment.

    ''Maybe I should just kill them.''

    It takes strength to endure, and when you''re in such bad shape, it''s hard to endure.

    No matter how badly he was injured, if he were back in his human form, he could probably make six heads roll on the floor in a second, or even half a second.

    In fact, I could probably do it in a dog''s body.

    But that would mean a big headline in the Academy''s morning paper tomorrow.

    .

    It''ll set other dogs and cats on fire.

    I don''t have a ce to dispose of the body, and I don''t have the stamina to do so.

    Especially since my eyelids kept trying to close earlier.

    [growl...]

    A small cry came from above, barely audible to Vikir''s ears.

    He looked up to see the cub perched on the wall, its fur standing upright, looking down at him.

    It looked like it might jump at any moment.

    But Vikir shook his head.

    The second-year students at Colosseo Academy are strong in their own way.

    Six of them together would be a formidable foe for a young cub.

    ''I can''t help it, I have to take on a human form for a while....''

    Vikir was mulling over the various ways to dispose of a corpse without leaving a trace in his head.

    "Cold Warrior, second year, ss B."

    An extremely dry and cold voice came from somewhere.

    "Attendance No. 8, Pal Uspear, No. 29, Betty Realbelt, No. 58, Houser Yellop, No. 63, Seaweed Aim, No. 66, Bison Redmin, No. 71, Oiler Southmiddle."

    A voice calling out the attendance numbers and names of the six scumbags, letter by letter.

    "...What do you guys think you''re doing?"

    An unexpected source appeared.

    A female student holding a bowl of food in one hand and a bowl of water in the other.

    It was the student council president, Dolores L Quovadis.

 Chapter 202: Mixed Bath (2)

    <h4>Chapter 202: Mixed Bath (2)</h4>

    "...What do you guys think you''re doing?"

    Student Council President Dolores. The Academy''s youngest early entrant and current third-year senior.

    The most prominent member of the Faithful Quovadis, one of the seven great Houses of the Empire, and the most influential among the Empire''s young nobles.

    In her presence, the second-year tremblers froze in their tracks.

    Senior students, inferior in skill, in grades, and in family connections.

    As long as they weren''t idiots, they should be able to read the atmosphere.

    The food and water bowls in Dolores'' hands, obviously prepared for the stray dogs and cats in the vicinity.

    They put one of the abandoned puppies in the center of the space and kicked, spit on, stabbed with broken liquor bottles, and burned with cigarettes.

    "...Uh, how long have you been watching?"

    The one in the front asked in a shaky voice.

    Dolores replied with a grim look and a voice he hadn''t seen or heard from in the nearly two years they''d been in school.

    "I haven''t seen it since the beginning."

    The second-year students were slightly relieved.

    But.

    "But I have seen enough to despise you."

    Their faces began to turn white again at Dolores'' next words.

    The word "saint" could not be more fitting, for Dolores had always had an angelic heart.

    Her warm smile, kind demeanor, and gentle voice had always been liked and followed by everyone in the school, whether they liked it or not.

    ...But what about now?

    Dolores''s expression was as cold as the wind in the North Sea.

    It''s always more frightening when someone who doesn''t usually get angry gets angry.

    No one had ever seen Dolores so angry before.

    Then, Dolores pushed her way through the crowd and picked up Vikir from the ground.

    Vikir, a small ck puppy, squirmed and was picked up by Dolores.

    Ko-ok.

    Dolores reached out, careful not to touch Vikir in case he felt any pain, and pulled him close to her chest.

    "That hurt, didn''t it?"

    The warm voice in his ear was imbued with a faint holy power.

    Just hearing it made the wounds on his body hurt a little less.

    Meanwhile, the six second-year students were slowly backing away, looking away.

    ''Oh dear, we''re going to get tarred and feathered for messing with the wrong bastard.''

    "I thought President Dolores really hated this kind of thing.''

    ''Instead of wasting time by harassing it, I should just kill it.''

    Then, Dolores looked at the second-year students in front of her and said.

    " ... that most serial killers begin their crimes by abusing animals. Do you guys know that?"

    Everyone craned their necks between their shoulders at the piercing stare.

    But even they had arguments.

    "That''s too much of an analogy. Aren''t we the elite who will lead this country?"

    "Yes, and you''re using us of being a little rough with an ownerless dog because of academic stress."

    "We apologize that we were drunk and made a few mistakes, but aren''t those dogs just dirty dogs that carry diseases anyway?"

    The men''s defenses only made Dolores'' expression grow even more icy.

    "Leading the country, you guys?"

    The second-year students'' faces drained of all color.

    Dolores continued.

    "The Academy is where we train people to lead the country. And to graduate from this academy and serve the state, you must have a spirit that is weak to the weak and strong to the strong."

    There was a conviction in her words that was harder than steel.

    And it was forged and honed by passion, sharpened to a razor-sharp edge.

    "But you are the opposite. Strong for the weak and weak for the strong. Such men are everywhere, even outside the Academy. Why should we entrust the affairs of state to suchmon folk?"

    Disqualification from nobility. Yellow sprout. Those who do not deserve to be called elite. A pest that harms more people the more high-ranking people be sessful.

    To them, Dolores showed no mercy.

    "By the authority of the president, I''m giving each of you demerits. I''m giving all six of you all the demerits I can give in a year."

    The power of the student council president is enormous because the professors have granted the student council some authority.

    This means that the student council president can kick a few students out of school a year if he/she feels the need.

    Of course, if this were done to the children of powerful families, it might raise a few eyebrows, but the six bullies here don''t have any powerful backers.

    There''s no way that a small noble family from the countryside would be able to protest against Quovadis, the Faithful.

    The six people in front of him realized what was happening.

    "Ms. President, this, this, this is not right, is it? How can you expel a junior...."

    "Expulsion for harassing a dog, we''re from the aristocracy too!"

    "I, I belong to the aristocratic faction as well. Please have mercy!"

    The second-year students crouched down on the ground, their sobriety gone.

    They had every reason to be, admitting a child to the academy was an enormous expense.

    It''s unimaginable for an ordinary family, and quite a burden even for a well-to-do noble family.

    However, the wealth and power thates with graduating from this academy is so great that it is quite an honor just to be admitted.

    ... But what if you were to be expelled?

    Great honor can only lead to great dishonor.

    Moreover, the influence of the Quovadis on the entire nation was immense, and once you were disrespected by them, your path was blocked.

    Rune is the state religion of the Empire, and the family that represents the Order of Rune is the Quovadis.

    Once you''ve been stampeded by Saintess Dolores here in Quovadis, your life as a noble within the Empire is effectively over.

    You will never be able to take a new name.

    What''s more, the plight of a young, junior member of the family means that even the family itself is in decline.

    The stock price will plummet and the market capitalization will evaporate.

    There was a strong possibility that all trade routes and jobs within the family would be cut off.

    "I''m sorry, President!"

    "Please cut me some ck! Please! Please!"

    "Help me, my father is going to beat me to death, please have mercy!"

    The second year students, who finally understood exactly what was happening, fell to their knees in unison and begged.

    "Did you have mercy on this poor puppy?"

    Dolores was still firm.

    Not even a needle could get in.

    * * *

    Bathroom.

    Puddle-

    Vikir stepped into the warm water.

    Sshing.

    Who doesn''t like warm water? His tail wags against his will.

    Night hound. Wounded and exhausted. Still a ck pup.

    Vikir closed his eyes and recalled the events of earlier.

    ''Did you have mercy on this poor puppy?''

    Dolores was unusually firm.

    It was as if there was a glimpse, however slight, of the woman who had been known as the ''Iron Saint'' on the battlefield before the regression.

    ''Surprisingly. Until the war of destruction with the demons began, she was often evaluated as indecisive.''

    Apparently, the fight with Dantalian had changed her a lot.

    Boggle.

    Vikir thought to himself as he submerged his nose in the tub.

    He could feel his body slowly recovering.

    It was no wonder, then, that the waters of Dolores''s favored baths had a slight but holy power, to the point of being considered holy water.

    Vikir soaked in it, lost in thought.

    The Eighth Corpse. The Corpse Queen.

    He hadn''t been able to kill her in the end.

    ''If only my cultivation had been higher.''

    Peak Graduator. A power powerful enough to represent an entire country, but still, it would be a struggle to face her in singlebat.

    Moreover, the fact that he had struggled so much against a corpse queen who could only use about half of her power, no matter how unexpected the encounter, was something to reflect on.

    ''Well, during Andromalius, I borrowed the knights of the House of Baskerville, and during Dantalian, I had Saintess Dolores with me.''

    After all, it takes strength to hunt demons one-on-one.

    Vikir began to explore the path to Swordmaster while also perfecting his still-imperfect mastery of the Baskerville Seven.

    The incisors, central incisors,teral incisors, and mrs of the upper jaw.

    The upper incisors, central incisors,teral incisors, and mrs.

    The sixth and seventh teeth must be in proper harmony to form a true seven, but the seventh tooth that Vikir can produce is still small and unstable.

    ''The sixth and seventh teeth of the 10th ambush tooth as the ''ambush horizontal bicuspids''. This is the ultimate killing technique that can only be mastered by understanding the subtleties between the sixth and seventh teeth....''

    The 6th Form manual clearly states the following.

    -In order to cross the barrier of the Sixth Form, one must abandon all human emotions of happiness, joy, and pleasure.

    And in the 7th Form manual, the twin swordsmanship manual, which is an exquisitebination of the 6th Form, the following was described.

    -To reach the seventh level, one must regain the human emotions of joy and happiness.

    Only by abandoning the emotion of happiness can one cross the barrier to the highest level of the Graduator.

    But in order to be a Swordmaster, he would have to reim his feelings of happiness and joy.

    ''I don''t understand what this means. Are you telling me that I have to revive an emotion that I''ve already killed?''

    In his previous life, Vikir had also be a Graduator.

    As he crossed countless lines and lost countlesspanions, Vikir became an increasingly precise and cold-blooded killing machine, and was even able to step onto the level of a Graduator with ease.

    But that was all.

    Vikir could never be a Swordmaster. He didn''t know the theory, and he didn''t know how to be one.

    But now is different. The path to mastery and beyond was paved.

    Vikir was lost in thought, recalling Hugo''s inaction in ughtering Andromalius.

    ''To be an Iron Man, I killed all my emotions. But to be a superhuman, I need emotions? What is this....''

    Vikir had been trained by Hugo to kill his emotions.

    It was the way hounds are bred, not to be good, but to be used and discarded.

    ''Now that I think about it, it''s a way to quickly raise a character to a certain level of power. It''s a method of training to create an entry-level Graduator army, so it doesn''t really suit me now.''

    I realized that I needed to change the way I was training, which was based on hands-on experience.

    How could I bring back the emotions that were already dried up and worn out?

    "...."

    When Vikir was really thinking about it.

    kkiiig-

    A small noise made Vikir''s ears perk up.

    And then.

    "...!"

    All of Vikir''s thoughts were interrupted in an instant.

    Something so startling that even the veteran Vikir lost hisposure for a moment.

    "Choco, your sister is here, let''s wash together!"

    Saintess Dolores, she came into the bathroom.

 Chapter 203: Mixed Bath (3)

    <h4>Chapter 203: Mixed Bath (3)</h4>

    Vikir was a little, well, a lot, embarrassed.

    "Choco, your sister is here, too. Let''s wash together!"

    Saintess Dolores came into the bathroom.

    Dolores L Quovadis, who is she?

    A saintess of the former world who appeared during the Age of Destruction.

    A hero of the ages, healing the wounded and ying evil.

    During the Warring States Period, when many small countries were proliferating, she was evaluated as much more than Saint Joan de Arc or Saint Helena, the ssical saints whose names were widely known across the continent.

    The authority and sanctity of Dolores'' name in the Age of Destruction, when blood flowed like rivers and corpses made mountains, wasparable to that of a goddess.

    ...And?

    I never thought I''d see Dolores with my own eyes as she entered the bathroom to bathe.

    Vikir closed his eyes tightly and swallowed hard.

    ''Of course I don''t have any unholy feelings of lust or anything.''

    ''... But regardless of that, if myrades saw this, they would try to kill me.''

    For thoserades who shared the battle against the Demon World, Dolores was an object of worship.

    In those days, everyone owed her their lives at one time or another, great or small.

    So, knowing that Vikir is now sharing a bathroom with Dolores in the form of a dog would certainly raise eyebrows.

    Especially those of the Pdin ss, who would surely draw their swords at the sphemy.

    ''I apologize,rades. I''ll get out of here as soon as I can.''

    Vikir felt a surge of guilt and quickly tried to get out of the bathtub.

    Of course.

    "Choco, where are you going, you should be bathing with your sister!"

    Dolores smiled brightly and grabbed Vikir''s body, pulling him back into the tub.

    Dolores then began to scrub Vikir''s body with a lightther of soap.

    "What are you, a little kid, with all these scars, did you get into a fight with the other kids?"

    "...."

    Vikir closed his eyes and tried to stay as still as possible.

    But there was no way to escape the gentle touch as it ravaged every inch of his body.

    ''It is said that the Rune Gods are maniptors of cause and effect. If so, the god of this world must be a delusional man with a grim ego.''

    Vikir gritted his teeth in internal sphemy.

    Dolores, meanwhile, pulled Vikir into her arms and soaked in the herbal bath.

    "Ah, it''s warm. Choco, right?"

    "...."

    "I work so hard to clean you, and you don''t clean me? It''s a little unfair, isn''t it?"

    "...."

    Meanwhile, Vikir was forced to spheme once more.

    Regardless, Vikir felt his body recovering.

    The wounds inflicted by the Lich and the Ragged Golem, two high-ranking undead, were healing quickly.

    Internal wounds that were not easily healed, even with the resilience of a dog''s flesh, were healing, and his depleted mana was rapidly replenishing.

    When Vikir closed his eyes and remained motionless, Dolores said curiously.

    "What? You closed your eyes, that feels good, my choco, huh? Ooooooo~"

    "...."

    But Vikir was thinking of something else entirely.

    ''If I want to reach Swordmaster, I need to change my training methods a bit.''

    A good idea... no, a thought for the Path of salvation.

    Vikir began to closely analyze his mana and sword skills.

    His current aura was at the level of a sticky liquid, the highest level of the Graduator.

    My swordsmanship is at the level of a Baskerville Sixth Form Master, barely scratching the surface of the Seventh Form.

    To reach the level of Swordmaster, you must be able to solidify the density of your aura to the level of a solid, and you must also master the Seventh Form.

    ''...Baskerville 7th Form.''

    Currently, the only person who has mastered the Seventh Form is the head of the family, Hugo Baskerville.

    Considering the prowess he disyed when he ughtered Andromalius, there was a huge gap between Hugo''s 7th and Vikir''s 7th.

    ''Baskerville''s teeth are used for biting, chewing, cutting, crushing, and mincing prey. The sword itself resembles the upper and lower jaws of a hunting dog. The seventh tooth, in particr, is crucial in its connection to the sixth, and to fully realize the look of this ''ambush horizontal bicuspid canine''....''

    Vikir is deliberately and diligently rolling his hair.

    But Vikir''s preconceptions are quickly shattered.

    "Wow �C look at the pink jelly on his paws."

    Dolores lifted Vikir''s front paw and kissed the pads.

    She stroked his head, pressed his cheeks, touched his chin, and rubbed his belly, and Vikir couldn''t think straight.

    Finally, Dolores wiped the foam from the tip of Vikir''s nose with the tip of her own and said.

    "Dogs usually kiss often."

    "...."

    "You don''t give me kisses. It''s a shame."

    "...."

    "Are you sure you''re a dog? This is suspicious."

    Dolores cupped Vikir''s cheeks andughed.

    And the moment he heard the words.

    The words-

    Vikir''s heart sank.

    ''If she''s found out I''m not a dog, it''s over.''

    He couldn''t imagine what terrible things would happen then.

    Perhaps I''d have to wage a bloody ughter against the entire Inquisition of Quovadis, who would be enraged....

    ''If that were to happen, Baskerville might be moved.''

    The Baskervilles and the Quovadis are the backbone of the Empire.

    If war were to break out between these two families, it would be on a scale asrge as any of the nation-state wars of the Warring States period before the unification of the Empire.

    In that case, it might be better to close your eyes once and for all.

    We can''t afford to cause internal strife among mankind in the face of an annihtion war with the demons.

    ...In many ways, I can''t help it.

    ''I''m sorry,rades.''

    Vikir closed his eyes and did something he had never done before in his entire life: deviate.

    jjog-

    He ran his tongue across Dolores''s cheek once.

    And Dolores, who was kissed by Vikir, said.

    "A, how cute!"

    She hugged Vikir tightly and bombarded him with kisses.

    This was also an unexpected ident.

    * * *

    The long but short bath was over.

    Dolores stepped out of the bathroom, dried herself off, and went straight to bed.

    In the third year, everyone is in a single-upancy room, and the bed is narrow for a single person.

    Dolores pulled the nkets over her and hugged Vikir tightly.

    "It''s good to have someone to talk to and fall asleep with tonight."

    Vikir did not escape her lips on his nose again.

    After a while, Doloresy down with Vikir in her arms and opened her mouth.

    "Many peoplee to me for counseling, confessing their vices and misdeeds, seeking indulgence and repentance."

    "...."

    "But I have no one to whom I can confide my troubles or misdeeds. Where can I go to confess?"

    Vikir closed his eyes and thought.

    Once, while fighting Dantalian, Vikir had experienced a strong connection with her spirit when the Awakened Dolores had buffed him.

    Dolores'' words from that time came back to her now.

    ''Everyone in the world confesses their sins and pours out their troubles to me,... but to whom do I confess my sins and pour out my troubles?''

    Sometimes it''s not enough to talk to God. There are moments when you want to talk to a fellow human being.

    Coincidentally, Dolores was confiding in the Night Hound about the same thing.

    Although she doesn''t recognize them as the same person.

    Dolores'' rtionship with her father, who was divided between the Old and New Testaments. Tired of always being the model student, the one who is expected to do well. Always having to be good, always having to perform well, and only being good enough. A life where one slip-up is met with consternation and undue criticism....

    All of this pressure weighs heavily on Dolores'' shoulders.

    Dolores looked at Vikir and said.

    "It''s strange that I''m saying all this to you, it feels strangely familiar."

    "...."

    Vikir closed his eyes wordlessly.

    Hadn''t she been told once that she could read the souls of her subjects?

    Her ability, though still faint, seems to be growing.

    Is that why?

    Dolores confided to Vikir one of the biggest questions that had been on her mindtely.

    "Am I going to die a virgin, never having held a man''s hand in my life?"

    At the same time, Dolores squeezed Vikir''s front paw.

    She closed her eyes and whispered in Vikir''s ear.

    "Actually, there''s a guy who''s been bothering me a bittely."

    The words came as a surprise. Vikir perked up one ear.

    What kind of man could be on the mind of Dolores of all people?

    ''I don''t know who it is, but... must be the enemy of many men.''

    Vikir thought quietly to himself.

    If Dolores had spoken these words during the Age of Destruction, many men would have been outraged.

    After all, she was the idol of the age.

    Meanwhile.

    Dolores held Vikir tightly in her arms and pictured a nameless, faceless man in her mind.

    The Night Hound.

    A man who had saved her from a terrifying demon, who had kept a terrible gue at bay, who had taken her under his wing when she felt unappreciated and unwanted.

    If he wasn''t that kind of man, was there any man in the world who could handle herself?

    Dolores thought so.

    An unknown, but good man. A handsome man.

    A man with enough power to defeat a mighty demon, but who would still help the sick and poor, covered in filth and profanity, and who understood their pain.

    ''And... then the demon said he was handsome, too.''

    Dolores blushed for a moment.

    She didn''t think a person''s appearance was important, but... well, it couldn''t hurt to be good-looking, could it? She decided to think so.

    After taking a bath and lying naked on the fluffy bedding, she drifted off to sleep.

    ''Oh well. I still have some work to do today. I need to write to the Pope and ask him about the phenomena of ''awakening'' and ''resonance'' in saints....''

    But at dawn, when the weight of her eyelids was the heaviest in the world, Dolores finally fell asleep.

    She fell into a deep sleep, her face glowing.

    And.

    "...."

    A hound stares down at her sleeping face.

    And then.

    Beep-.

    The window opened.

    "I owe you ...."

    The hound, now fully recovered, began to melt into the darkness once more.

 Chapter 204: Festival Night (1)

    <h4>Chapter 204: Festival Night (1)</h4>

    The day has dawned.

    The exam period was over, and there was a holiday over the weekend, a perfect time to rx.

    And the students of the Academy were using this time to discuss the uing festival.

    The festival nningmittee decided that each ss or club shoulde up with a concept for the festival, which was also the case for the students of the newspaper club Ryukeion.

    Dolores, the student council president and the club''s leader, nodded.

    "Our club is doing a haunted house and a bar, right?"

    Halloween in the Empire falls inte summer.

    It was the perfect excuse to celebrate, especially since they had just been released from a grueling exam.

    "Well, then, let''s decide in advance which ghost you''re going to dress up as."

    At Tudor''s words, the first, second, and third years all nodded.

    Then. Bianca spoke up.

    "But ''the tradition'', is it still in effect this time?"

    Bianca''s words brought everyone''s eyes together.

    There was no one who didn''t understand what she was saying.

    At the Academy, men always disguise themselves as women and women as men during festivals.

    It''s a time-honored tradition that even the professors can''t escape.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, Sinir, and all the other members of the ss had an idea.

    "So we''ll have the men dress up as female ghosts and the women as male ghosts."

    "Right. That''s right, we''ll dress up as ghosts and switch genders."

    "But are there separate female ghosts and male ghosts?"

    "No, there''s no such thing as a female ghost and a male ghost, you just switch genders while wearing the ghost costume. For example, there are female zombies and male zombies."

    "And then we can serve drinks or meals as them!"

    "Okay, so let''s draw lots for which ghost we''ll each dress up as."

    "Okay, let''s draw lots for freshmen, sophomores, juniors, and seniors."

    "That''s a good idea, since each grade has a different number and gender ratio."

    Next, the members drew a lot from the box.

    Tudor was the first to draw a lot.

    Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle.

    The scraps of paper in the box brushed against his fingertips.

    He had to be careful, because if he picked the wrong lot, he could be stuffed into ck history.

    "Please give me the one that''s okay...."

    Tudor closed his eyes, prayed, and grabbed the scrap of paper.

    He unfolded the tightly folded lot to reveal the concept of the ghost.

    .

    "Ah, this will do, and I don''t particrly care what gender."

    With ck armor and a bloody sword, anyone can dress up as a Death Knight, regardless of gender.

    Tudor had kept his blue eyes and blond hair intact, and he''d simply added long hair.

    It was a handsome look, but as with his previous cross-dressing trials, the lines were bold and the look didn''t quite work.

    Next, Sancho drew his lot.

    As a warrior who grew up on the frozen soil of the north, Sancho got the concept of a ghost with a cold image.

    "Ugh. I don''t like this role."

    Unlike roles such as zombies and vampires, the Snow Maiden is a role that definitely requires cross-dressing, which is not good for men.

    When the makeup was applied to his muscr body, Tudor burst outughing.

    "Isn''t it an ice golem, not a snow maiden?"

    "Hahahaha- Let It Go, buddy."

    Everyoneughed hriously at Sancho''s unsessful attempt at cross-dressing.

    Fortunately, Sancho didn''t seem to mind cross-dressing.

    After all, he firmly believes that cross-dressing is something that only men can do, so it''s a manly act.

    After that, Piggy also drew a lot.

    Piggy is now able to show off his tiny, cute appearance to the fullest.

    With the wings on his back, he looks like a real fairy.

    Next up was Bianca.

    Bianca has stitches all over her body and nails in her hair.

    Her mustache was a bonus.

    She was naturally tall and attractive and androgynous, so this makeup suited her perfectly.

    "Okay, next up is...."

    Bianca turned her head to see Sinir standing there.

    However, Sinir seemed to have something else in mind.

    "You know, I''ve been working on a costume."

    "Really? What is it?"

    Bianca''s eyes widened. She hadn''t expected Sinir to be so enthusiastic about dressing up for Halloween.

    Next, Sinir opened her bag and pulled out the costume she''d brought.

    It was a single, giant spider with clumsy sewing.

    On top of her head was a tiny crown.

    "Ta-da- It''s the Spider Queen. how is it?"

    "Ohhh. I didn''t realize you liked spiders so much. By the way, didn''t you scream like crazy the other day when a spider came out of the bathroom?"

    "Yeah, did I? I remember it well... Anyway, I love spiders!"

    Bianca can only shake her head at Sinir''s almost apologetic tone.

    And then.

    Everyone''s eyes moved toward the same spot.

    The one person whose turn it was to draw lots.

    "...."

    A tired-looking Vikir stood up from his seat.

    Drat.

    Everyone swallowed hard from the tension as Vikir''s chair was pushed back.

    For some reason, what Vikir would choose was of considerable interest to the entire academy.

    There were already reporters from the Cold ss with cameras ready to capture the mana screen.

    Tudor, Sancho, and Piggy murmured with envious nces.

    "I heard there was a line from first years to fourth years lined up to take part in dressing up Vikir?"

    "I heard that even the Imperial Pce''s makeup artists have formally applied to the Academy."

    "Apparently, the Empire''s most prestigious magazines are paying big bucks for Vikir''s cross-dressing photos."

    Of course, all of these outside approaches were dismissed out of hand in the interest of protecting the Academy''s students.

    Professor Morg Banshee, in a fit of irritation, rejected all applications and requests for interviews.

    Next. Vikir''s lot was revealed.

    A ghost with a perfect female concept. It is a role that requires a delicate andplete makeup like the Snow Queen.

    If any male student had picked this lot, the audience would have burst intoughter.

    Just like Sancho did once.

    But.

    "...."

    "...."

    "...."

    No one in the roomughed at Vikir''s role.

    Instead, there was a strange sense of unidentifiable anticipation in the room.

    Soon, a witch''s costume was thrust in front of Vikir.

    A ck hat, a ck cloak, a tattered broom, and long, ck false nails.

    It was a witchy look, ready to cast forbidden ck magic at a moment''s notice.

    But the quality of the witch''s outfit was already the focus of attention.

    The girls who had been assigned to make up Vikir''s face had a nk look on their faces.

    "Wow, it''s really a waste to watch it alone."

    "... is he really a guy, right?"

    "This mana screen is going to be a big hit in tomorrow''s newspaper."

    Amidst the chatter, Vikir''s brow furrowed slightly.

    White skin, a sharp nose, blood-red lips, and eyshes so long they could have fallen as snow.

    With makeup on, Vikir looked pretty, like a face not of this world.

    So much so that the boys watching were confused about his gender identity.

    It''s no wonder that the native tribes of the Depth ck Mountain started a war of aggression after learning of Vikir''s appearance.

    ... However, Vikir himself was ufortable with these reactions.

    ''This never happened in my previous life.''

    Before his regression, Vikir was more used to being looked at with disdain.

    He was much shorter and thinner-boned than he is now, and a childhood injury had left him with a limp.

    His face was scarred with knife marks and burns from his various missions.

    The sight of Vikir''s face made girls his own age, as well as younger and older women, cry or run away.

    Of course, the younger, prettierdies of the academy wouldn''t even deal with him.

    They would give him disdainful nces or even spit on him. They would throw away anything he happened to touch.

    They even avoided being in the same room together, not wanting to breathe the same air.

    Of course, as a hunting dog, Vikir was trained to bepletely emotionless, so he wasn''t hurt by any of this.

    However.

    In this life, he ate well, grew taller, and didn''t have a single scar on his face.

    This was quite a change from what he had expected, and it was not easy for Vikir to adjust.

    "...hmm."

    Vikir furrowed his brow once, and the room erupted into an uproar.

    "Vikir, why, what''s wrong, just tell me!"

    "Are you thirsty? Are you hungry? Are you stuffy? Are you ufortable somewhere? Can I get you something to drink?"

    "Are your clothes too tight? Should I loosen the corset on your back? Are your high heels the right size? Are your toes hurting?"

    "Are the eyshes too heavy? Are these your original eyshes? Is the makeup too dark? Are you feeling stuffy? Should I lighten the makeup and make sure your skin doesn''t have any blemishes? Ugh...."

    "Isn''t it too sunny by the window? I''ll cover it with my back!"

    "By the way, do you have a sister, does she look like you, and if so, can I call you brother-inw?"

    "Hey, this is a big deal. Everyone, block behind me, If this face leaks, it will at least be stampede!"

    "But are you a witch or an angel? You look like one."

    "Oh, Rune, this is the face I''ll be wearing to confession tonight... Please forgive this lustfulmb...."

    Just then.

    "Huh!"

    A startled whistling noise was heard from the other side of the club room.

    Everyone, who had been focusing on Vikir''s face, turned their heads to see a third year student holding a box of lots, his face white as a sheet.

    Standing there was Dolores, who had just plucked a lot.

    "...."

    She looked at the lot in her hand with a thoughtful expression.

    The part Dolores was to y at this festival.

    The words were written inside the swallow.

 Chapter 205: Festival Night (2)

    <h4>Chapter 205: Festival Night (2)</h4>

    The festival has begun.

    Numerous stalls were set up inside the academy.

    Lively music echoed here and there, and colorful lights lit up the night.

    Huge stacks of food were piled high and overflowing, with men and womening and going in colorful costumes.

    Everyone enjoying the festival was dressed as a ghost.

    Most were zombies or skeletons, with the asional vampire or mummy.

    The same was true for Ryukeion, the newspaper club that opened the bar.

    "Wee to a ghostly bar with romance and chivalry!"

    "The snacks are friendly and the boss is delicious! Come on in!"

    "Sancho! The snacks and the boss have changed!"

    Tudor, Sancho, and Piggy are hard at work hawking their wares.

    Tudor, dressed in ck armor and a Death Knight costume, was wooing female customers with talk of chivalry and romance.

    "Beautifuldy, why don''t you join me in Ryukeion''s bar to discuss drink and poetry?"

    "Kaaaak- okay!"

    "You look like a wandering knight!"

    Sancho, dressed as a Snow Maiden, was a favorite among his fellow muscr macho men.

    "Wahahaha-e to Ryukeion''s bar! If you stay until 9pm, I''ll serve you blood stew as hot as a warrior''s boiling blood!"

    "Ho-ho, that must be a hunk of protein and iron, I can make up for my muscle loss, I can aim for three tons!"

    "Cross-dressing, you''re dressed quite manly, aren''t you, hahaha- go now!"

    Piggy, dressed as a fairy, is also attracting quite a bit of attention among the women.

    "Hey, hey, hey. Over here, I need a flyer!"

    "What? Look at this cute kid. Are you a student at the academy too?"

    "If it''s a concept that stimtes maternal love, it''s a sess, huh, ho-ho-ho-e on, my sisters will buy it for you."

    As a result, the front of Ryukeion''s bar was bustling with people.

    Meanwhile.

    "Hey, this is such a sphemous outfit, won''t it cause a controversy? Who wears a swallow like this...."

    Saintess Dolores hesitated in the back of the bar.

    ck leather gloves, ck cloak, boots, and a gue doctor''s mask covering his entire face.

    It was the look of a Night Hound.

    Tudor walked by andughed at Dolores.

    "A bit of a social controversy, the Night Hound."

    " ... Is that true?"

    "Still, the gue doctor mask isn''t the only trademark of the Night Hound, is it? It''s a look that''s often seen on Halloween, and it''s always been a part of the festivities. Wouldn''t it be weird if we banned a certain costume because of the Night Hounds?"

    If you look at the bar next door to us, there are often people wearing gue doctor masks.

    It''s been a staple of Halloween celebrations since the beginning of the Empire, so I don''t think it''s something that should be enforced.

    "...."

    Dolores was conflicted.

    Only she knew that the Night Hound was innocent.

    But that didn''t mean she shouldn''t be dressed in a way that might make some people ufortable.

    Dolores was just deciding whether or not to step out in front of the tent.

    "What is that outfit?"

    As expected, there''s someone who doesn''t like Dolores'' outfit.

    Professor Morg Banshee. In addition to being the professor of the Hot ss, he was also the advisor to Ryukeion of the newspaper department.

    "President Dolores. I didn''t expect you to dress so inconsiderately."

    "...."

    "Even though it''s a festival you enjoy without thinking about, you wouldn''t say you didn''t think about the social repercussions your outfit would cause, right? How can you possibly imitate such an irredeemable trash criminal?"

    Professor Banshee''s criticism was harsh.

    His words were well within the realm of rational understanding, but thest line cut deeply into Dolores''s emotions.

    ''He is not a criminal, but rather a holy and sublime...!''

    But Dolores couldn''t shout that.

    It would be against the will of the Night Hound, who did not want to reveal his identity.

    So Dolores decided to be bold.

    "I like this outfit."

    "...what?"

    "I''ll be serving like this."

    Professor Banshee''s mouth dropped open in disbelief as Dolores bit her lip tightly.

    "I''m disappointed in you, Ms. Dolores. I thought you were a smart student, even if you are young."

    "...."

    "Well, you''ll have to take responsibility for your own behavior. Even though I''m your advisor, I have no right to interfere with your attire, so do whatever you want."

    Professor Banshee clicked her tongue in frustration and returned to the tent.

    Meanwhile, Tudor, Sancho, and Piggy, who had been watching, were gossiping amongst themselves.

    "What''s going on? Professor Banshee is here. Why is he here?"

    "Professor Banshee isn''t the only one. There are other professors."

    "Usually, during the festival, the professors go around to the bars in each division and ss to make sales."

    That''s right. Professors enjoy the festival too.

    It was an unspoken custom among professors to visit the bars of the students they were responsible for and sell them alcohol and snacks, giving thempliments and attracting other customers.

    Thus, Professor Morg Banshee hade to the bar here in Ryukeion today.

    But.

    None of the students working in the bar weed Professor Banshee''s visit.

    That''s right....

    "Tsk!"

    Professor Banshee took a bite of the food Tudor had brought him and spit it right back out on the floor.

    "This chicken is so undercooked that if a skilled veterinarian treats it, it could be saved."

    That wasn''t all.

    Professor Banshee continued tosh out at the food that followed.

    "It''s a good thing the empire is united, because if there were still many other nations on the continent, they''d surely be greedy for oil and invade these pork chops."

    "You''d better keep this beef separate from the sd, it''s so undercooked I think it''s still alive, and it''s still trying to eat the sd next to it."

    "What a fine mace. It''s hard and heavy, so I can crush the head of my enemy at any time. Oh, and by the way, is the bread I ordered still here?"

    "If I had to choose the most delicious thing on this table, I would choose this water without hesitation. Of course, even this water is dry and hard."

    "These beans are so undercooked that if they do well, I might nt them and hope for another year."

    "This pork isn''t cooked at all, can''t you hear the Hakuna Matata that this pork is singing."

    Professor Banshee is known for having an incredibly picky pte.

    The students working in the kitchen began to resent his relentless taste assessments.

    Dolores, who was less than impressed, stepped forward.

    "If you''re going to make so manyints, why did you bother visiting?"

    "I don''t want to visit either. But it''s customary among professors to go to the bars of their students and give them a boost in sales, which is why I''m sitting here in this dirty chair, eating low-quality ingredients, poor hygiene, and condimentden food served by workers who don''t pay taxes and don''t have health certificates, even though the food isn''t cheap and they only take cash, so it''s not tax deductible and I don''t get a cash receipt."

    Not even Dolores can argue with Banshee''s point.

    Professor Banshee looks down at the fried potatoes and chicken dish in front of him in disgust.

    "But if it had any vor, I wouldn''t beining about it. Taste is the most important thing, and the absence of it makes the bad stuff seem even more pronounced, doesn''t it? There''s nothing to see here, this snack probably tastes like waste...."

    However. after scooping up a spoonful of chicken and potatoes, Professor Banshee couldn''t finish his sentence.

    tasty.

    Delicious.

    It was definitely delicious.

    "...What is it? Why is it delicious?"

    The subtle vor of fire, the richness of the bone broth from the shredded chicken, the savory vor from the soft crunch of Morg''s specialty potatoes, and the tangy, salty taste from the mysterious red sauce.

    "Holy... this is definitely a vor I''ve had before, but only in the most prestigious restaurants in the Imperial City, not in a bar at an academy festival like this?"

    Professor Banshee scooped up a few more spoonfuls of chicken stew and looked up.

    "Who made this? Did they bring in a professional chef from out of town?"

    "I doubt it."

    Dolores looks a little puzzled, too.

    Just then, a passing Tudor turned his head.

    "Ah, so it''s to your liking? By the way, I just reced the chef in charge of the kitchen."

    "Recing the chef? With who?"

    "Well, there''s this one guy who''s an unusually good cook, and he decided to take over the entire kitchen, and there-"

    Tudor pointed a finger, and the heads of Professor Banshee and President Dolores turned.

    Then, beyond their feet in the kitchen, they saw a face holding arge frying pan to the mes.

    Kurrrk...

    A sharp nose, dark eyebrows, wless white skin, and eyes like ake of blood.

    A schoolgirl in a ck hat and cloak stirs a wok with mystical mes.

    A slight frown, beads of sweat on her forehead.

    But her face, bathed in firelight, is mesmerizing.

    It was like watching a witch possess and control her victims with her vor.

    Both Professor Banshee and Dolores are stunned by the sight.

    "Was there a girl like that in our ss?"

    The scene was so magical that even the great Professor Banshee was mesmerized for a moment.

    But then Tudor''s voice interrupted their reverie.

    "Professor. Have you forgotten the traditions of our academy?"

    "...?"

    Professor Banshee shook his head, unable to understand Tudor''s words.

    Then an exmation point appeared above his head.

    "...!"

    That''s right.

    There is a long-standing tradition at the Academy.

    It''s called TS.

    Men to women, women to men.

    In other words, the bewitched witch in the kitchen is a boy dressed as a girl.

    And the boy''s identity was obvious.

    "Order! Three tes of Vikir''s special chicken stew, two tes of Vikir''s special seafood, six tes of Vikir''s special sausage vegetable stir-fry, five tes of Vikir''s special meatball rice balls, and another Vikir''s special...."

    "Uh-huh! Look guys! Another new menu! How in the world did you manage to make such delicious snacks out of leftover ingredients? What''s the name of this? What? Nothing? It''s just made with leftover ingredients? Let''s put this on the menu as soon as possible! This is the 32nd special new menu!"

    "Ugh! Ever since we opened the kitchen to the public, we''ve been getting too many male customers! At this rate, we''d better reveal that this is a guy!"

    "Oh no! This time it''s the girls! Get more number tags!"

    "No! The number of male customers hasn''t decreased at all! In fact, they''ve increased! What''s going on?"

    The staff is silently taking in the rush of orders.

    He''s a student, but he''s incredibly skilled at creating simple, practical, and delicious dishes.

    It was Vikir.

 Chapter 206: Festival Night (3)

    <h4>Chapter 206: Festival Night (3)</h4>

    Vikir, dressed as a witch, was stir-frying vegetables and meat.

    A limited amount and quality of ingredients.

    But the number of dishes that could be made from theirbination is endless.

    ''Memories. I used to eat this a lot in the field.''

    Vikir dipped a piece of dry bread into the milk, reminiscing about the past before the regression.

    As the Age of Destruction dragged on, the more food ran out.

    Most of the supplies brought to the front lines were burned by demon raids, and what little did arrive was stolen or embezzled by the higher-ups.

    What did eventually fall into the hands of officers and soldiers at the end of the line withered, rotted, or spoiled.

    Aside from their anger, the men on the front lines had to make the most of this extremely limited food supply.

    Along the way, Vikir learned a lot from hisrades.

    How to prepare inedible ingredients to make them edible, what parts of poisonous vegetables to remove, how to restore freshness to meat that has lost its vor, how to make astringent, bitter, or sour vegetables ptable, how to kill the individuality of spices that are too intense to be liked or disliked, how to make them taste universally eptable, how to boil, how to stew, how to bake, how to grill, how to steam, how to stir-fry....

    Now, Vikir was using his experience to make the most of the limited space and limited ingredients.

    ''A few simple snack menus will definitely be better than the chefs at the moment.''

    After decades on the battlefield, a few of the old soldier''s signature dishes were enough to overwhelm most chefs.

    This, of course, is due to the advanced recipes of previous eras, and the taste of time spent in the field.

    ''The potatoes developed by Morg are earthy and tasteless, and the texture is like chewing sand....''

    But Vikir chopped up the potatoes, seasoned them with salt and vinegar, and added mandrake leaves and sabac berries to the wok and fried them over high heat.

    ''This willpletely remove the earthy vor and bring out the sweetness and texture,''

    Come to think of it, I had done this to potatoes once before.

    ''You don''t have anything like this at home, do you?''

    Suddenly, a clear face shed before Vikir''s eyes and then it was disappeared.

    "...."

    He stared at it with teary eyes.

    ''Hey. Why don''t youe over and cook for me? I''ll take you in.''

    ''Speaking of which, when do you get into the academy? Let''s see. I''m probably going to get in early by a year or two. It would be so much fun if we were in first grade together....''

    And then, as if on cue, they tangled, nning their future together.

    ''...where you are now and what you''re doing.''

    Vikir thought briefly.

    Then he surprised himself.

    That he still had time to think of others.

    ''I wonder if I have any sensitivity left.''

    Vikir shook his head to clear his thoughts.

    He turned his attention back to the reality.

    ''I''ll see you soon enough.''

    It''s always a good idea to keep your hands busy when your mind wanders.

    Cluck.

    The chicken and potatoes are stir-fried, and the red soup seasoning is poured over the top.

    This nameless dish, once eaten by mercenaries on the front lines in the Age of Destruction over the carcasses of demons, has been transported back in time and created in the Academy''s festival bar and has be a very popr new menu item.

    "...."

    Vikir gripped the wok and turned his head.

    Outside the kitchen, on the tables, he could see people drinking and eating snacks.

    Good food makes people happy. Everyone was eating Vikir''s food with a smile on their faces.

    ''... It was the same way back then, myrades-in-arms, who are now dead, also enjoyed my cooking.''

    The people who made it, the people who ate it, and the scenery in which it was enjoyed have changed dramatically, but the vor is timeless.

    And although it is a slightly different view,... therades-in-arms who are dead and gone are still alive in this era.

    Therades who ate rough food together and crossed rough lines together are still alive with young and innocent faces.

    Kwok.

    Vikir tightened his grip on the wok.

    For their sake, he had to live this day, this moment, as best he could.

    There would be more demons to kill, more lines of fire to cross, more strength to grow.

    With that resolve, that sense of mission, Vikir turned his attention to the food in front of him.

    Vikir put aside his personal thoughts and focused on the small tasks at hand.

    Meanwhile.

    "...."

    Dolores stared nkly at Vikir in the kitchen.

    "...wah."

    Dolores''s lips parted, even though she was holding it together. It''s a very admirable look.

    She had always thought of herself as the type of person who looked at the inside rather than the outside, but... that didn''t mean she didn''t look at the outside at all.

    It wasn''t that she didn''t care about a man''s face, it was just that she hadn''t ever seen one that really impressed her.

    It was only now that Dolores realized the significance of this.

    "I can''t believe he''s wearing such a sphemous outfit with a face like that. Why is he dressed like a witch....?"

    She stumbled back to her senses and looked away.

    A witch is the opposite of a saint, so it was natural for Dolores to be offended by the outfit.

    But the other girls behind her had a different opinion.

    " ... He''s so fucking handsome."

    The voice of the heart, unfiltered.

    Dolores gasped, wondering if she''d said it out loud, but she hadn''t.

    Turning her head, she spotted a group of schoolgirls who hadn''t made it inside the crowded bar, but had gathered at the fence outside to watch the kitchen.

    Most of them were dressed as zombies, so the scene was quite apocalyptic.

    "How can a man be so pretty, this is a scam!"

    "Vikir, I love you! I love you! Can you please take a look at this ce? Please! Don''t just take my word for it, it''s steamed!"

    "Oh really, it looks like our Vikir is going to win all the 20th Golden Sexiest Neer awards this year~ Do you remember how when I was giving my eptance speech, the entire audience was in tears, so I boiled and ate bear soup with it?"

    "In the real world, all the sexiest creatures looked at our Vikir''s breathtaking figure and retreated, retreating and disappearing even outside the empire, so they were all turned into barbarians. There''s nothing we can do about it. Vikir is responsible for this. Vikir, the sexiness that has disappeared in this world from everyone but himself, let''s eat it all. Ha really..."

    "Vikir is so sexy that he beat up all the walls and broke the old border fence of the Warring States Period with his fists to unify the country, can he win the Imperial Peace Prize? Yes!"

    "Ha wait a minute. I gave up on people who thought Vikir was sexy, and the empire was cut in half, so I came here high-fiving my friend from the Northern Varangian."

    Arge crowd of zombie cosyers crowded around the bar''s perimeter fence to get a glimpse of Vikir.

    The sight of them, clinging to the fence and shaking the fence stakes to gain ess to the kitchen, was apocalyptic.

    "Yay, sales are exploding!"

    "You''re the best!"

    Tudor and Sinir excitedly began handing out numbered tags to customers outside the fence.

    Despite the extra zeros added to the prices of the food on the menu, Vikir''s creations are selling like crazy.

    Most of the customers were from the nobility, so they weren''t afraid to open their wallets despite the high prices.

    "Huh! Look, guys, there''s a new menu again! How in the world did you manage to make such a delicious snack out of leftover ingredients? What''s the name of this thing? What? Nothing? It''s just leftover ingredients? Let''s put it on the menu as soon as possible! It''s Vikir''s special new menu!"

    After revealing the fact that Vikir was actually a man, the number of female customers began to increase dramatically.

    Surprisingly, the number of male customers didn''t decrease at all, but actually increased.

    "Wow, look at all the guys. Men just need to be pretty."

    "Hey! It''s a big deal! She''s a guy!"

    "I thought it was all about being really pretty~"

    "Girls just need to be pretty, too, eek!"

    "Did my school have a girl like that?"

    "He''s a freshman in this year''s cold ss. He''s famous for doing a Colosseo Naphtali."

    "I heard this ce is a good restaurant."

    "Take my order, please! I''ll pay for my meal here in advance. Oh, and could you please put the drinks and food away, they''re distracting from the view?"

    Ugh. Professors and students, a crowd.

    "Excuse me, Vikir, I''m sorry you''re so busy, but do thesee with extra toppings, and I''d like to try one of the new items you just added."

    Even Prof. Banshee had taken up a table and was sitting down, cing one order after another.

    Just then.

    Bianca walked into the kitchen, fresh from a publicity stint.

    When she saw Vikir holding the pots anddles, she eximed in surprise.

    "What the hell, why are you in the kitchen? Get out there and sell! Why are you rotting in the kitchen with that face!"

    Hearing that, Vikir nodded and let go of thedle.

    At that very moment.

    "No! The kitchen is ruined without Vikir''s touch!"

    Tudor rushes over and stops Vikir.

    Soon, Tudor, the chef, and Bianca, the hustler, were arguing.

    "Vikir is an asset to the kitchen, don''t you dare take him away from us! How many lonely gourmets have fallen in love with Vikir''s taste right now!"

    "Are you kidding me, you want him to stew in that perfect witch costume? Every time he steps outside, sales go through the roof!"

    Suddenly, a group of kitchen students swarmed behind Tudor, and a group of charmers behind Bianca, and they began to argue.

    "Don''t disrespect the kitchen!"

    "The flower of a festival is attracting customers!"

    Students from both positions, including Tudor and Bianca, began to fight for Vikir''s position.

    Just then.

    "They shouldn''t be fighting."

    There was one person pulling Vikir to his feet.

    A moment.

    "?"

    Vikir''s expression turned slightly nk.

    A familiar face.

    ... ... Why is this person who should be on the far western border now here in the imperial capital?

 Chapter 207: Festival Night (4)

    <h4>Chapter 207: Festival Night (4)</h4>

    "Vikir should be in the kitchen!"

    "What''s the point of having a kitchen if you don''t have a pimp!"

    An extreme case of PIMPY (Please In My Front Yard) as each side tries to get Vikir to join their side.

    In this gap between the kitchen faction and the pimping faction, local egoism blossoms beautifully.

    "We shouldn''t fight."

    A man hugged Vikir.

    "?"

    Vikir frowned.

    ... Why is this person here now?

    A familiar face. He was wearing a vampire costume and a mask, but Vikir could tell by the momentum.

    Who else could be of this size and age and exude this much intimidation?

    Osiris. Osiris Les Baskervilles.

    The head of Baskerville, the iron-blooded swordsman, Hugo''s legitimate sessor.

    He is now hugging Vikir in his witch disguise.

    For a moment, Vikir''s mind raced with thoughts.

    The first thing that came to mind was the cryptic message that Sindiwendi had sent him the other day.

    1. The Ten Corpse. Information obtained. Need time to analyze. One month.

    2. Night Hound. Two copycats emerge. One for praise. The other, purpose unknown.

    3. Osiris of the House of Baskerville. Family crest emptied. Supposedly headed for the Imperial City.

    The third entry apparently states that Osiris, the head of the Baskerville family, has emptied his household and is headed for the Imperial City.

    Although the exact purpose was unknown.

    Meanwhile. Public opinion is up in arms about the masked man who appears out of nowhere and takes Vikir away.

    "Who is he? He''s very tall."

    "Is it Vikir''s family?"

    "I can''t see his face because of the mask."

    Most people are curious about Osiris'' identity.

    However, Osiris took Vikir with him and quickly left the scene.

    As if he had no intention of making a scene.

    And then. Back behind the tent, Osiris set Vikir down.

    "You''ve gotten a lot prettier since Ist saw you, little brother (dongsaeng)."

    He said, with a hint of gravity in his voice.

    But Vikir''s expression remained cold.

    "What brings you here, hyung-nim?"

    "Hyung-nim? Wouldn''t it be more appropriate to call me oppa?"

    "...ording to the traditions of the Academy, it would be correct to call you Unnie."

    "It was a joke."

    "So was I."

    Vikir asked again.

    "What brings you here, brother."

    "It is the duty of an older brother toe to the rescue when his younger brother is in trouble."

    Just then.

    "Samchuun!"

    A hand shot out from Osiris''s back.

    Vikir''s eyes widened slightly.

    He could see the Pomeranian being carried by Osiris. Osiris''s broad shoulders and back had been hidden until now.

    "Ying-ying-ying-I miss you, Samchun! Why aren''t youing?"

    Pomeranian has a sorrowful look on her face as she hugs Vikir and rubs her face.

    When Vikir lifted his head, feeling the dampness around his belly, Osiris revealed his purpose foring.

    "Pomeranian has missed you so much. My father has granted me a special vacation. To take Pomeranian to the Academy."

    At the words, Vikir doubted his ears. A vacation? Hugo?

    Seeing Vikir''s puzzled expression, Osirisughed softly beneath his mask.

    "He''s got a tight grip on the reins of the family these days."

    Osiris''s words were surprising.

    Mention the Pomeranian''s fondness for blood bean chocte, and the marsnd along the Western Front is turned to mush, and cacao ntations take its ce.

    If the Pomeranian says he wants to spend his summers by the river, thends along the Southern Front are swept away by silt and rapids and turned into rivers.

    The Baskervilles even raided the ruby mines of their ally Morg when Pomeranian showed an interest in jewelry making.

    Pomeranian protested that she missed Vikir, and after a long hunger strike thatsted two meals, Hugo granted her a visit.

    Of course, this was done in the utmost secrecy, so as not to reveal Vikir''s rtionship with the family.

    And Pomeranian was escorted by Osiris Les Baskervilles himself!

    ''...What a world.''

    Vikir rubbed his forehead at the butterfly effect of the storm he had created.

    But at the center of the storm, Pomeranian is just hugging his legs and whimpering for Vikir''s amusement.

    "Hahaha, our princess is finally showing her smile. Pomeranian has been quite depressed since you disappeared, and the atmosphere in the house hasn''t been right for a while. Your father has been so worried about you...."

    Osiris looks at Pomeranian with a gentle expression, his expression is also softer than I''ve ever seen before.

    It''s as if Baskerville, the iron-blooded swordsman, is changing a little bit due to Pomeranian''s appearance.

    On the other hand, Osiris was also looking around the Academy''s bars as if he had a new appreciation for them.

    " ... It''s been a long time since I''ve been here, too. I was once a student at the Academy, and I was in charge of many things as student council president, but now that I''ve graduated, it''s all just a memory."

    Muttering to himself, Osiris looked back at Vikir as if suddenly remembering.

    "Oh, by the way. On the way here, I saw a pretty girl inside the bar''s tent, and she was staring at you. What''s your rtionship?"

    A pretty girl. Osiris would say.

    "You mean Student Council President Dolores?"

    Vikir asked without thinking.

    At that very moment.

    ...hwadeuljjag!

    The area beyond the tent suddenly shook.

    Vikir turned to see what it was, and saw the back of Dolores'' figure scurrying away.

    Dolores hadn''t made a move until we started talking about her family, so it''s possible she was just passing by and overheard our conversation.

    ... but why are those ears red?

    ''Well, it doesn''t matter.''

    I hadn''t said anything bad, I''d just been caught saying something nice, so I didn''t think anything woulde of it.

    Maybe she was offended that I was judging her appearance, but I don''t think I need to think about it because it''s not going to happen again.

    "As for Ms. Dolores, we''re not in a rtionship, we''re just senior and junior."

    Vikir cut to the chase, and Osiris cocked his head.

    "...Dolores? You mean thedy of the Quovadis? If she is, I recognize her face. I didn''t mean Dolores."

    "Hmm? Then who were you referring to?"

    "I don''t know her name, but she was dressed as a yeti."

    "...."

    "It''s a joke."

    Clearly, Osiris''s personality had changed a lot since I''dst seen him.

    Vikir was silent for a moment, wondering if this was another Pomeranian influence.

    ''perhaps... ... In the face of a wall at the top of the Graduator, regaining one''s emotions may be more advantageous for growth. I don''t know about Osiris himself, but it must be good for him.''

    I had no idea that having a younger sister (actually a niece) in a house full of brothers would have such a profound effect.

    Well, aside from that, Osiris gave Vikir a lot of information.

    A general overview of what was going on in the family.

    "The trade deal you arranged is well underway. It''s been in the works since our alliance with Messinadnaro."

    The three-way trade between Bk, Baskerville, and Sindiwendy was finally on track.

    However, there was one strange thing.

    Vikir turned to Osiris.

    "House Messinadnaro?"

    "That''s right. The same family that was ouwed by the Baskervilles."

    Osiris seemed to already know about Sindiwendy''s past.

    Vikir is left to wonder why Sindiwendy, who has a grudge against the Baskervilles, would join forces with them.

    Osiris exined again.

    "Do you remember the truthmission we created before you entered the Academy? I''ve been chairing it ever since, and we''ve re-investigated everything that happened in the past."

    Seven families involved in the club burning suspension were disowned.

    The misunderstandings and misdeeds between the Baskervilles and the Messinadnaro were also brought to light.

    As a result, the Baskervilles have formally apologized to the Messinadnaro and have made restitution.

    It was a win-win situation, as many of the old Baskervilles who had participated in the conspiracy were forced to give their heads, and Osiris was able to reorganize the family''s order and power structure once more.

    In the end, Hugo and Osirispletely overpowered the Senate, led by the Seventh Count, and seized control of the House.

    It seemed that Sindiwendy had also been somewhat relieved by this series of events and had joined forces with the Baskervilles.

    ''Well, that''s her own mind.''

    ...whether she had truly forgiven Baskerville or not, only she would know the exact details.

    "Indeed."

    Osiris turned to Vikir, as if remembering something.

    "I havee to see you today not only to tell you these things."

    He pulled something out of his pocket and held it out to Vikir.

    "Is this ...?"

    Vikir''s eyes sparkled as he examined the object.

    Osiris tilted his head and said.

    "It''s an artifact that fell from the spot where Set died. I don''t know what it can be used for, so I brought it to you."

    When demons die, they drop their artifacts.

    Just as Dantalian had dropped the Picaresque Mask, Andromalius would have done the same.

    It was a shame I couldn''t keep it, but now I have it.

    ...Sparkle!

    A ck strange ring appeared in Vikir''s hand, shining brightly.

    / Ring

    -Finit hic Deus -Off

    -Finit hic Deus, the realm of the gods ends here.

    It''s an orb that contains the skills that Andromalius used to specialize in when he was alive.

    It was a covenant-forming ring with the ability to create spaces so secretive that even the eyes of the Rune Gods could not see into it.

    The moment he held it in his hand, Vikir couldn''t help but think of a clich��d line.

    ''...You''re lucky.''

 Chapter 208: Festival Night (5)

    <h4>Chapter 208: Festival Night (5)</h4>

    Usher Pou Bianca. 18 years old. Originally from Usher, the Divine Bow Pce. Early admission to the Colosseo Academy.

    As a member of the festival organizingmittee, she found herself in the middle of another annoyance.

    "Hey, there... I''ve been watching you all this time, and I like you!"

    The boy standing in front of her, holding out the letter, was someone she remembered seeing a few times in her joint ss with Hot ss.

    Bianca frowned. She stroked the fake mustache at the base of her nose.

    Bianca studied the face of the boy in front of her again.

    Her sharp eyes sparkled as she fired a needle from a hundred paces away.

    "Caked-on makeup -13 points, ky skin -11 points, unkempt eyebrows -12 points, incongruous lip tone -14 points, cuts from shaving -4 points, untrimmed nail cuticles -4 points, mismatch of personal color and clothing -5 points, split ends of hair from excessive bleaching -8 points, awkward cross-dressing -22 points, total score of 7 out of 100.

    The boy in front of her was quite handsome, but he didn''t reach Bianca''s aesthetic threshold.

    The cross-dressing was an additional point deduction, as it looked very sloppy.

    ''If you were dressed as a woman, you need to be pretty. It''s not even pretty. I don''t need anything that isn''t pretty.''

    From a young age, she loved pretty things.

    Pretty clothes, pretty food, of course.

    Pretty dolls, pretty weapons, pretty men, pretty women, pretty horses, pretty saddles, pretty horseshoes, pretty carpets, pretty carpet cleaning brooms, pretty carpet cleaning broom holders....

    As such, Bianca was known for her demanding aesthetic, even within the Usher family.

    So much so, in fact, that she handpicked her nannies as babies.

    Maybe that''s why? Bianca wasn''t interested in men.

    Men are basically ugly. They don''t dress up or take care of themselves as much as women do.

    If they happen to wear makeup to look pretty, they''re called unmanly even amongst themselves.

    So Bianca''s entire life has been about getting attention from men.

    To her, men were basically ugly creatures, people she had nothing to do with in her life.

    That''s why, since the beginning of the semester, she''s been asked out countless times by seniors and ssmates alike, but she''s always turned them down.

    ''Bianca! Would you like to go see the newly released y ''Worn Out Newbie 2''?

    ''I''ve seen all three.''

    "Bianca, have you had dinner? If not, would you like to join us?

    ''I already ate lunch for tomorrow.''

    ''Bianca, let''s go worship at the temple this weekend!''

    ''I''m a heretic, I believe in voodoo.''

    ''Hey, Bianca, when are you free this weekend? Try to find some time.''

    ''I don''t have a weekend.''

    ''Bianca, why don''t you go to.... this Christmas?''

    ''No.''

    I''d rather hang out with pretty girls, but I never felt like hanging out with ugly guys.

    The only exception would be Tudor, the little bully I grew up bickering with?

    ''... but I can''t help but like pretty people.''

    I med myself for this personality and tried to change it, but I couldn''t change my taste.

    How can I change the fact that I''ve been insisting on pretty women since I was a baby, even for my nanny and maids?

    If I could find a guy who could score at least 20 out of 100, I''d be happy, but there weren''t many of them in the academy.

    And even if there were men who barely met the physical requirements, none of them were of such great ability or status that she, the eldest daughter of the Usher family and head of the Cold ss, would dare to approach her first.

    ''Yeah. I''m me, and I don''t have to change who I am to fit in.''

    So Bianca had given up on meeting and socializing with men since she started school.

    ... but.

    Now, her resolve has long since been shattered.

    ''100 points. One hundred points!''

    Vikir is in the kitchen, stirring a pot full of stew with adle.

    Bianca''s gaze half unraveled at the sight of him.

    Crazy. Giddy. Ecstatic. Dreamy and Decadent.

    She had never seen such dangerously beautiful things, not even among her own kind.

    Where the hell did that nonsensee from?

    It''s like a character ripped off the page and popped out of one of those cringe-worthy 19th-century doujinshiics I read as a kid.

    And not just any character, but the decadent heroine of the story itself.

    Bianca was grateful to her parents at this point.

    They had given her the eyesight to see a needle in a haystack from a hundred paces away, so of course she should be grateful.

    ''Wow... how can a man be so pretty, there''s nothing to see.''

    Even from a very long distance, if you energize your eyes with mana, you can see things as if they were right in front of you.

    So Bianca continued to marvel as she handed out flyers for a bar from miles away.

    Skin as white and smooth as ivory, without a single blemish, eyshes so long and luxuriant they seemed to fall and pile up, eyebrows so dark and straight, and eyes as red as ake of blood beneath them.

    I always knew he was good-looking, but the makeup made him even more insane.

    No wonder onlookers were swarming around him with mana screenshot cameras.

    ''Should I take a mana screenshot too?''

    Despite the bustling crowd of people dressed as zombies, skeletons, ghouls, vampires, death knights, witches, werewolves, and more, Bianca couldn''t take her eyes off Vikir.

    Just then.

    ...Bam!

    Bianca''s shoulders shook once.

    plag-

    A few flyers in her hand fell to the ground.

    Her shoulders bumped together in the bustling crowd.

    "Oh really, where are your eyes...."

    Bianca turned her head with an annoyed expression.

    But then a face caught her eye.

    Bones. A skull mask, and a pair of glowing, bloodshot eyes.

    "Huh!

    Bianca gulped down the wind.

    [....]

    A woman dressed as a skeleton was staring at them.

    A chill ran down her spine that was almost indescribable.

    The skull mask and armor were too borate for a Halloween costume.

    ''..., she looks real.''

    Bianca swallowed dryly.

    She''d never been pushed in a energy fight before, but for some reason, she couldn''t use her energy against the skull-masked woman in front of her.

    There was an overwhelming aura emanating from her, not mana or aura, but a presence, a ss apart.

    Then, a hoarse voice came from within the skull mask.

    [Be careful].

    It said. It sounded as if it was giving the insignificant bug a pass for once.

    "...."

    Bianca couldn''t say anything in response to that, though, and could only lower her gaze.

    ''Keep your mouth shut and your eyes down.''

    Instinctive warnings screamed in her head.

    It was the creepiest thing I''ve ever experienced in my 18 years of life.

    None of my ssmates, not the skinny kids, not the weight-lifting seniors, not even my professors, had ever given me the creeps.

    ...No.

    If I had to pick one, it would be Prof. Sady, the only one with the same level of creepiness.

    The hairs on my body stood on end, and my back was damp with sweat.

    Feeling like a hedgehog in front of a giant pit, Bianca backed away, forgetting to pick up the flyers that had fallen to the floor.

    [...ung].

    The skull-masked woman snorted and turned away as if she wasn''t worth dealing with.

    Judging by the condition of her skin, body shape, and voice that asionally peeked out of her mask or armor, she was around the same age.

    But the presence she exudes overwhelms Bianca, the Usher family prodigy and top enrollee in the Cold Warrior ss.

    " ... Who the hell is that?"

    She must be a student at the Academy if she''s taken the trouble to dress up in a Halloween costume like that, and if she is, there''s no way Bianca wouldn''t know it.

    "Maybe he''s from Magic Tower or Varangian, but I don''t think there''s anyone of her caliber there. ...Maybe a returning student?"

    Bianca broke out in a cold sweat and backed away, moving at a shuffling pace, heading for the newspaper publisher''s bar.

    The solicitation stops here.

    Her legs were shaking from the terror she''d just endured.

    ''I''ll go back to the bar and ask Vikir for a shift. Honestly, I think he''ll do a better job of bringing in customers than I will.....''

    Bianca was somewhat confident in her cooking, so it was a more efficient decision.

    And she needed to get away from that murderous woman as soon as possible.

    ''...What''s wrong?''

    Bianca quickened her pace.

    The kitchen of the newspaper''s bar.

    Toward where Vikir was.

 Chapter 209: Festival Night (6)

    <h4>Chapter 209: Festival Night (6)</h4>

    [Be careful].

    The Corpse Queen opened her mouth in an irritated tone.

    Her irritation rose in her voice from the depths of her lungs, the source of which contained the heat of the infernal fires simmering in the depths of the ck Demon World.

    ".... .... ...."

    Naturally, the female student whose shoulder was bumped could only shudder and didn''t say anything in response.

    [... hah.]

    The corpse queen snorted and turned her attention away.

    The girl who had just bumped into her shoulder seemed to be from the Academy.

    Judging by the look on her face, she might be a new student, maybe even an early enrollee.

    The corpse queen suddenly felt ufortable as she thought about it.

    Maybe. Really, just maybe.

    What if she hadn''t be a corpse queen?

    What if she hadn''t been admitted to the Academy, like so many other girls her age?

    She knew full well that there were no ifs in history, but just this once, just this one time, if she could put on an age-appropriate act, she might think so.

    ''...with him.''

    The Corpse Queen saw a face in her thoughts.

    The waves of time would slowly sweep everything away until eventually nothing remained, but they would never erase this one face.

    The gaze, always expressionless, always looking so far away that it was impossible to tell where it was looking.

    The face she could still remember so clearly and distinctly.

    At the same time, she remembers the conversations she had with him before she became the corpse queen.

    ''Hey. Do you want toe to my house and cook?''

    ''....''

    "Yeah, yeah, yeah. I''ll just take you in.

    ''....''

    ''So, when are you getting into the academy? Let''s match it up with me. I''m probably going to get in a year or two early. It would be so much fun if we could be first years together....''

    Then.

    There was a presence that scattered the Corpse Queen''s thoughts.

    ...Nod!

    A small woman beside her tugged on the cor of the Corpse Queen''s cloak.

    Geronto. A red-haired mage with bandages covering her entire body, including her face and neck.

    She was a Lich, a high-ranking undead who had been brought back to life by the Corpse Queen.

    The Corpse Queen listened to Geronto''s unspoken report and nodded.

    [Yes, Rose, the Night Hound, his scent seems to be leading this way].

    The Corpse Queen naturally couldn''t help but recall the events of the previous night.

    The disruptor who appeared out of nowhere. It was only recently that she realized he was an unprecedented viin who had been terrorizing the nights of the Imperial City recently.

    ''Certainly no ordinary man.''

    The barbarian''s archery, his swordy, all too familiar.

    At the crucial moment, however, the blinding light from the tip of his de prevented me from reading its exact trajectory.

    However, the Corpse Queen had witnessed a sun-like aura like this once before.

    [...Madame of the Eightlegs, in that night''s battle].

    The Corpse Queen felt her heart beat for the first time in a very long time.

    She hadn''t felt her heart beat in a very long time, ever since she had forced herself to peer into the Abyss of Magic in an attempt to leap to a higher realm during her Closed training and suffered a mana backflow that killed half of her body.

    Since then, her heart has been beating again, even though it hadn''t beaten properly since then.

    What does this mean?

    [no way. No way. No way. That can''t be possible. ... ... but. but.]

    Even she couldn''t pinpoint what she was hoping for, what she expected, what she wanted to see.

    And so the Corpse Queen hade to the Academy in a state of confusion.

    To meet the Night Hound she had met the night before.

    Next, Geronto led her to a dormitory.

    [A dormitory? This ce looks like it''s for students. Surely the Night Hound that''s been wreaking havoc across the Imperial City isn''t a student at the Academy?]

    The Corpse Queen shook her head in disbelief.

    She fumbled with the lock on the back door of her dormitory.

    chiiiig...

    At the Corpse Queen''s touch, the lock instantly melted into molten iron, like ice dumped on a stove.

    The corridors inside the dormitory were dark and empty.

    It was the festive season, and everyone seemed to have gone out to y.

    After melting down a few more locks in her way, the Corpse Queen broke into one of the rooms in the dormitory and swallowed a small gulp.

    [...This looks like a girl''s room, doesn''t it?]

    A inly decorated single upancy room.

    However, judging from the decorative items and the smell in the room, this is definitely a girl''s room.

    The room was empty, as I had guessed based on the atmosphere in the hallway.

    What''s unusual is that there are a few small paw prints on the window sill that appear to belong to a dog.

    [You have a dog? Let''s get it off your hands].

    The Corpse Queen muttered hoarsely.

    How many animals had she cut and pasted as experiments in order to reach the pinnacle of ck magic?

    Naturally, there were many dogs among them.

    Therefore, the Corpse Queen harbored a vague feeling of guilt or indebtedness for having pets, including dogs.

    Meanwhile.

    ...Bam!

    Geronto stood there and shook his head.

    It was a sign that the scent had stopped.

    The corpse queen was forced to leave the dormitory without much of a payoff.

    [...Well, at this point, the only thing we can do is capture and interrogate the owner of this room].

    Following the trail of the room''s owner, the corpse queen emerged into the festival streets once again.

    Moment.

    [...!]

    There was a scene in front of her.

    Countless cherry blossom petals. Those pink waves.

    The skull mask''s eyes widened at the sight of a cherry blossom rain on an epic scale.

    Even if they were just fake petals created by magic, it was still spectacr.

    [....]

    As she stares at the festival petals fluttering in the night sky.

    "Wow, you did a great job with your costume!"

    A group of schoolboys said to the corpse queen, grinning broadly.

    [...?]

    Before the corpse queen can turn her head, the boys walk past,ughing amongst themselves.

    "Wow, I thought her helmet and armor were made of real bones."

    "She must have put a lot of work into her costume."

    "Did you see that? Didn''t he have a nice jawline under that skull mask?"

    "Ugh, the proportions and the lines are so graceful, you should walk a horse."

    Small talk.

    The Corpse Queen found it quite refreshing to be the subject of such small talk.

    Compared to the atmosphere of her previous groups, or her current one, it was hard to imagine.

    But he didn''t feel any new feelings of offense or anger.

    ''It was Halloween, after all.''

    Halloween, which symbolizes the Academy''s summer festival, is more passionate and open, unlike Halloween in the winter.

    It''s a festival where even strangers pass by and exchange greetings and hugs.

    The Corpse Queen watched the crowd of passersbye and go with newfound emotion.

    Students dressed as zombies, skeletons, ghouls, vampires, death knights, ghosts, mummies, and more.

    Outsiders enjoying the students'' costumes and imitating them in their own ways.

    Then.

    "Hey pretty girls, buy a skewer, it''s half price because you''re pretty!"

    A female student started hawking the corpse queen.

    "Wow, your costume is really tight, you must be looking forward to the festival!"

    [....]

    "A, I feel great, you''re enjoying the festival so much, I''ll give you one more as a service!"

    The corpse queen was taken aback by the skewer that was suddenly thrust in front of her, and was immediately subjected to a hard sell.

    [...Delicious?]

    ...Nod!

    The corpse queen walks down the street with her sugared fruit skewers and Geronto with his ice cream waffles.

    For the first time since her heart stopped beating, the Corpse Queen felt a little bit, just a little bit, good about this situation, even if it was only for a moment.

    Following the scent from her room, Geronto walked from tavern to bar, from passerby to passerby.

    Up and down the street, right and left, back and forth, left and right, everywhere.

    Handsome bards busking, dance troupes performing, water balloon tosses and whack-a-mole games with all sorts of prizes....

    The corpse queen looked suspiciously at Geronto, who was carrying water balloons, ice cream, whirling potatoes, and a giant teddy bear.

    [Are we on the right track, Rose?]

    ...Nod!

    Geronto flinches slightly, but then nods and points to a spot.

    A bar came into the Corpse Queen''s view.

    A ghost bar run by a newspaper club.

    Students dressed as ghosts were hawking, serving, and cooking, weing customers to the bar.

    On arge stage opposite, guest dancers dressed as skeletons were performing to loud music.

    mes roared and heart-pounding drums pounded.

    A melting pot of chaos and revelry, with crowds of people weeping andughing and stomping their feet.

    And there, the Corpse Queen could see one familiar face again.

    [...Isn''t that the woman who bumped shoulders with me earlier?]

    The woman she bumped shoulders with earlier is standing here again, looking dazed.

    I''d warned her to be careful in the future, but here she was again, looking so stupid.

    The Corpse Queen clicked her tongue.

    [You haven''t woken up yet, stupid girl, you won''t live long].

    This is puzzling, since she seems to have pretty good instincts, given that her eyes immediately snapped shut.

    Suddenly, the Corpse Queen stopped clicking her tongue and turned her head to the side.

    She was curious as to what it was that had so mesmerized the pretty girl.

    And.

    [...!?]

    The corpse queen''s eyes, which had been turned away without a second thought, soon opened wide enough to tear.

    It was a person cooking in the bar''s kitchen.

    Upon seeing that face, the Corpse Queen couldn''t help but freeze in ce, shocked as if struck by lightning.

    Then, she stuttered and opened her mouth.

    [...He, did he have a sister?]

 Chapter 210: Festival Night (7)

    <h4>Chapter 210: Festival Night (7)</h4>

    [...He, did he have a sister?]

    Not likely.

    There are no women in his family. No daughters are born.

    Daughters have been rare in their family ever since the disappearance of their only daughter a long time ago, as if a curse had been ced on them.

    But what is this woman in front of her?

    A schoolgirl dressed as a witch and cooking.

    Pale skin, a sharp nose, a veil-like jawline, deep eyes and thickshes. Add to that a slight frown and you have the ultimate in decadence.

    Add to that hair as ck as the night sky and red eyes that shine like rubies, and it''s like he''se back to life.

    ... If it hadn''t been for the woman, I might have actually believed it.

    [Blood? But that doesn''t exin it, what the hell happened after that night in the depth....]

    The corpse queen muttered softly.

    She had apparently cut herself off from everything in the world after ''that one day''.

    She didn''t know, because in order to plunge into the depths of the ck Magic, she would have to cut all her ties to the world, and weigh herself down.

    So she did not know. Any information beyond the ''one day'' that involved him.

    Moreover.

    ''No more thinking.''

    Or the existence of ''it'' that was preventing the Corpse Queen from thinking clearly.

    ...Jist!

    The Corpse Queen was momentarily thrown off bnce by the impact of arge, thick awl piercing her skull.

    Her brain is immediately restricted from deep thought.

    A terrible headache was kicking her half-dead, half-alive brain.

    ''Stop thinking about your headache, I''ll take care of all that for you.''

    The demonic whisper in my ear. It tempts you to let go of yourplicated thoughts and woes and respond to the simple stimulus in front of you.

    Ugh!

    The Corpse Queen gritted her teeth.

    [...I''m not a corpse, I''m capable of independent thought and judgment, not a puppet that moves only at your will].

    The voice in her ear paused at those words. The ''it'' closed its mouth.

    ''....''

    The Corpse Queen clenched her teeth and covered her ears.

    [I told you, I''m only giving you half the day].

    ''....''

    [And to fulfill the part of the contract, I must go to that bar now. Don''t forget why I made the contract with you].

    Then ''it'' whispered in a sweet voice once again.

    ''Of course, that''s why I found your sister, with my ''powers''.''

    The Corpse Queen turned her head at those words and looked to the side.

    Geronto. The mage turned lich. The girl who would have been sixteen this year had she lived.

    The Corpse Queen opened her mouth.

    [I know, your ability, the mystical one that lets you ''meet the person you want to meet,'' but... you know there''s one other person I''ve been looking for besides my sister, right?]

    ''....''

    [The main reason I epted your contract offer was to find his body, but you never did, even after two years of scouring every inch of the Red and ck Mountain].

    ''....''

    [And now, I don''t know if it''s because of your powers or if this is my destiny, but I''ve once again gotten a lead on him. Somehow I feel like if I go there, I''ll know everything].

    ''....''

    [So don''t stop me].

    The corpse queen was the first to resist the voice of ''it''.

    This was because the corpse queen and ''It'' were not in a master-servant or one-sided contractual rtionship, but rather a mutually beneficial one, which was quite different from the way most demons would enter into a contract with a dying human to take over their bodypletely.

    But ''it'' continued to speak to the corpse queen.

    ''It''s dangerous. I smell danger.''

    [...what?]

    ''I sense something sinister in that bar. It reeks of the disgusting odor of demon hunters.''

    Geronto, next to the Corpse Queen, seems to sense it as well.

    The Corpse Queen saw Geronto nod in agreement and thought for a moment.

    ''But why now, Demon Hunter, and what on earth is going on while I sleep half the day?''

    ''It'' was still pestering the Corpse Queen.

    While the corpse queen was living half the day, ''It'' was also living half the day.

    The Corpse Queen gritted her teeth.

    [I havee prepared, and the identity of your uneasiness is probably the Night Hound, and I will meet him and unmask him myself. And that woman''s identity as well].

    Then the thing shut up and was silent for a long time.

    The Corpse Queen is about to take a step forward when It gives up.

    ''We don''t have much time left.''

    ''It'' opened its mouth.

    ''It''s midnight, and after midnight, this body is mine....''

    [...That''s enough].

    The corpse queen stopped talking.

    It was silent, as if it too had decided that further conversation was pointless.

    Caw-.

    A crow cawed ominously and flew through the rain of festival cherry blossoms.

    [....]

    The corpse queen''s eyes immediately calm down.

    She stopped thinking and let her instincts guide her.

    It was time to clear up the confusion.

    The Corpse Queen was about to take a step forward.

    "Waaaaaaah! You''re so pretty!"

    "Who the hell is that witch!"

    "It''s not my sister, it''s my brother!"

    "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! Big sister, please take a look at this!"

    "Witch, please cast a spell on me too!"

    "I love you, just give me a drink!"

    A huge crowd suddenly rushed into the newspaper club bar.

    ...Click! ...Click! ...Click! ...Click! ...Click!

    Screenshot shes of mana exploding everywhere.

    The corpse queen was pinned down by a crowd of people.

    She was crushed so hard that her cheeks bulged out of her skull mask.

    [... these, these].

    The Corpse Queen slowly drew up her mana.

    She was going to clear her mind of everything that bothered her and move forward.

    As she had always done.

    But.

    ...Jaw!

    Had she sensed a change of ns? A footstep blocked the corpse queen''s path.

    "Stop."

    Bianca. It was her.

    ''Stop.''

    The corpse queen''s eyebrows moved.

    ''The bitch who couldn''t even keep her mouth shut earlier?''

    What the hell was she doing standing in her way now?

    But Bianca stood firmly in front of the corpse queen, her body trembling slightly.

    "I understand your feelings, but that''s it."

    [?]

    Understand your feelings? How dare the bitch say she understands?

    The Corpse Queen was just about to open her mouth to say something.

    Bianca opened her mouth first.

    "So much for fandom, you have to stay in line."

    [??]

    "No matter how pretty that kid is. You can''t do that by raising your mana? Are you doing this because we''re not mana users?"

    [????]

    The Corpse Queen stared nkly behind her mask for a moment.

    Then another face popped out from beside Bianca''s.

    A girl with gray hair and sleepy eyes. It was Sinir.

    "That''s right. Only our staff is allowed to see our witch."

    The Corpse Queen had no idea what these chicks were talking about.

    [... Are these bloodsuckers crazy].

    "Mmmmmmmm- blood, you look like you''re about our age, but you sound like you''ve juste out of the grave."

    "Sisters, if you''ll excuse me, I''d like you to step aside, or take your number and wait."

    Bianca and Sinir worked together to keep the Corpse Queen at a distance.

    Eventually, the corpse queen was forced to reveal her power.

    Tsutsutsutsutsuts...

    Bianca and Sinir''s expressions changed as she drew on her dark mana and emitted a sinister aura.

    ''ck mage!''

    Even the Empire ssified them as ss 1 dangerous people.

    The ck mages under their care are usually identified as those who feed on the rust of the state and move only under its control.

    But the skull-masked woman in front of them looks suspicious.

    Maybe... maybe all those bones on her face and body aren''t just cosy.

    "...!"

    "...!"

    Bianca and Sinir''s faces go white.

    There''s no way they, the elite of the Cold and Hot ss, a neer who had just finished her first-year midterms, could have withstood the momentum of the Corpse Queen.

    And then.

    ...teog!

    Bianca and Sinir weren''t the only ones blocking the Corpse Queen''s path.

    ck coat, gilded boots, chains and daggers dangling from her body.

    And, crucially, a gue doctor''s mask covering his face.

    "...Who are you and what are you doing on someone else''s property?"

    It was the Night Hound.

 Chapter 211: Festival Night (8)

    <h4>Chapter 211: Festival Night (8)</h4>

    ...Boom!

    The sound of loud firecrackers echoes through the air.

    A fireworks festival colorfully decorates the night sky.

    Music sts from the ground, and dancers dressed as skeletons and zombies put on enthusiastic performances.

    A specialty of the Imperial Capital.

    A concert where academy insiders and outsiders stomp their feet and cheer in unison.

    ...And in front of him, in the newspaper club''s bar, something strange was happening right now.

    * * *

    The corpse queen put her hands in her bosom and stretched them out.

    Huddle, huddle, huddle!

    Arge amount of skeletal fragments fly out from under her ck cloak and scatter on the ground.

    Tsutsutsutsutsutsutsutsutsutsuts...

    At the same time, the ck mana that emanated from the Corpse Queen''s body enveloped each and every one of the bones.

    Germination. Evil roots and sinister shoots sprouted from the bony seeds.

    Thud! Thud!

    A ck magic circle formed on the ground where the bones touched, and skeletal soldiers were summoned.

    <Skeleton

    Danger Rating: C

    Size: 1.7 meters

    Found in: All continents

    -Name: ''The Bone Man''.

    Amon sight in graveyards, battlefields, abandoned houses, and sewers.

    In rural areas and run-down cities, they''re almost asmon as street rats.

    Skeletons (���Ǳ�). The most basic form of the dead.

    All they need is a piece of bone, and they can use it as a seed to root and sprout a magic circle, drawing from it an unlimited amount of power.

    It is much more portable than zombie, which can be summoned through flesh, or wraith, which can be summoned through a fragment of the soul.

    Flesh, even if dried and made into jerky, will eventually decay and disappear, and souls, no matter how well sealed in a vial, will eventually evaporate.

    On the other hand, a high-level warlock who has attained a certain level of mastery can produce an endless supply of skull vials simply by scattering tiny bits of bone that are close to bone powder.

    Woody, woody, woody, woody!

    Bianca and Sinir''s faces hardened as they watched the skeletal soldiers rise from the ground.

    As the elite of the Academy, there was no way they couldn''t feel these ominous waves of mana.

    ''Undead soldiers? Here?''

    The two female students'' mouths dropped open.

    This skull-masked woman in front of them was definitely one of them.

    Either she''s a child who doesn''t realize how terrifying it is to break the taboo of ck magic, which is strictly controlled by the empire... or she''s an absolute powerhouse who knows it and has the guts to do it.

    But judging by the thick, strong, bony creatures in front of them now, it was overwhelmingly the first.

    "Uh, where did these monsterse from, is she one of those ''night hounds'' or something?"

    "That''s not the point, we need to get the professors here now!"

    Bianca and Sinir didn''t even dare to stand up to the powerful ck magic in front of them.

    Then.

    "Wow! The performance is starting!"

    "Awesome! A real performance!"

    "Huh? But what''s behind the concert?"

    "Wow! There are skeleton backup dancers in the back!"

    "But they really came out of the shadows! Who are they? What are they doing?"

    "Boom! New face dance team! Their costumes are real, brothers!"

    The crowd around them had a different reaction.

    Maybe it''s because it''s a Halloween party where everyone is dressed up as skeletons and zombies, but no one thinks it''s weird to see the skeleton soldiers summoned by the Corpse Queen.

    Who says humans are animals of atmosphere?

    Even if there''s a fire or smoke in the room, if the person next to you is sitting calmly, it makes you feel uneasy, but if you sit still, you may suffocate to death.

    That was exactly what was happening here at the academy''s festival.

    Although an Academy student who is sensitive to Mana, but in fact, 99% of the party people gathered here are outsiders, illiterate in Mana, and probably because they''re intoxicated by alcohol and the excitement of the party, so even standing next to the Skeleton Soldiers, you don''t feel anything other than a little eerie.

    But of course, there are those who can recognize anomalies even in these situations.

    "...ck mage? What are you doing! If you''re in the Imperial Army, please state your rank!"

    Saint Dolores, dressed as a night hound, stepped forward.

    The holy aura she emanated stopped the skeleton soldiers crawling up from the abyss.

    Crackle �C Crackle �C Crackle

    The corpse queen''s aura was so powerful that the skeleton soldiers were not killed, but they were still frozen in ce by the holy power of Dolores, who had been somewhat awakened since the Battle of Dantalian.

    The saintess''s protection also properly blocked the bck mage''s negative emotions, such as the fear that his powerful aura caused in those around him.

    Also, the way the skeleton soldiers iled about made the audience think that this was some sort of dance troupe performance.

    "Oh, it''s performance art."

    "Is that a sh mob or something?"

    "Uh-huh, a performance where an unspecified number of people gather in a specific space at a specific time and do the same thing for no purpose? I heard it''s thetest trend in the imperial capital!"

    "Wow, now that I see it, it looks real!"

    Even the guest singers and dancers on stage began to mimic the behavior.

    "Who are they? When were they booked? I''ve never seen them before."

    "I don''t know, but they''re pretty hip. The quality of their costumes and props is amazing."

    "They seem to have a good crowd."

    "... Should we try it?"

    As professional dancers dressed as zombies and skeletons mimic the stumbling movements of the skeleton soldiers, the cheers be more frenzied.

    Firecrackers popped everywhere, and the music got louder.

    The crowd''s attention now shifts back to center stage.

    ... But all the while, Dolores''s expression was hardening.

    ''Ugh, so strong. What is this person, or is she even a person at all?''

    The skull-masked woman in front of Dolores was a terrifying force that even her holy power couldn''t handle.

    She thought she''d be much more skilled since her battle with Guilty, or rather Dantalian, but she was still far from it.

    The ck mage woman in front of her appeared to be her age, but she possessed an incredibly powerful mana that was iparable to her own.

    This kind of ominous and dangerous mana was something she had only ever felt when dealing with a demon of Dantalian''s level.

    No wonder Dolores'' strength alone was insufficient.

    ''...The Night Hound was with me then.''

    Dolores broke out in a cold sweat.

    It reminded Dolores of the terrifying enemies she had fought, and the weight of her mission and burden.

    Meanwhile, the Corpse Queen had known all along that the Night Hound before her was a fake.

    She also recognized Dolores as the owner of the girls'' dormitory room she had visited earlier.

    The Corpse Queen growled and asked.

    [Where have you taken the Night Hound?]

    "...What?"

    Dolores asked with a frown.

    The Night Hound''s whereabouts were something Dolores had been wondering about herself.

    But the skull-masked woman in front of her almost seemed to assume that Dolores knew the whereabouts of the Night Hound.

    [The Night Hound''s tracks were found in your room, and I''m already on my way to check them out].

    Dolores''s expression hardened even more.

    ''No one has ever been in my room.''

    Dolores, who values her privacy, doesn''t allow anyone to enter her space.

    Not only does she clean up after herself, but she also fixes her own furniture and equipment when it breaks.

    This is true whether she''s in her home in Quovadis or in her dormitory at the Academy.

    Dolores couldn''t figure out why the enemy in front of her was making such an outrageous misunderstanding, but she decided it wasn''t important right now.

    "I don''t know what you mean, but it doesn''t sound like you''re looking for him with good intentions. If you''re not a ck mage in the Imperial Army, then you''re clearly an enemy! If you are, then I can''t tell you anything."

    [...Him? What are you rted to him?]

    The Corpse Queen asked in a sharp tone.

    Dolores answered after some thought.

    "Soul mate."

    And.

    ...Boom!

    After hearing Dolores'' answer, the Corpse Queen exploded.

    [Really? In that case, I''ll tear that soul to pieces and turn it into a disease of the dead!]

    A fierce rage that even the Corpse Queen herself couldn''t understand the source of caused her ck mana to boil over even more.

    A fiery night of roaring mes, earth-shattering music, and partying.

    In the midst of it all, a witch and a saint stand in sharp opposition.

    ...And.

    "Stop."

    A voice intervened in the middle of the two women''s nervous battle.

    Thick and low, like nails scraping across vocal cords.

    "...!"

    [...!]

    Both the Corpse Queen and Dolores took half a step back, startled by the appearance of a new figure.

    A man wearing the mask of a gue doctor and a ck cloak wrapped around his entire body.

    Vikir.

    It was the moment when the true Night Hound appeared.

 Chapter 212: Festival Night (9)

    <h4>Chapter 212: Festival Night (9)</h4>

    Vikir. The Night Hound stood before his prey.

    Moments ago, Vikir had been cooking in the kitchen when a familiar sensation caused him to throw down the wok and run out of the bar.

    This was no time to be stir-frying potatoes, judging by the fierce shivering of the Demon Sword Beelzebub lurking in his arteries.

    ''Is this aura...?''

    The smell of the demon. How can I forget the hateful scent of blood?

    From the looks of it, the entity that invaded the academy was the Corpse Queen.

    I had fought her once before in the ruins of House Indulgentia.

    It is unknown why she is inside the academy, or for what purpose she has entered the chaos of the festival.

    But it was a crisis, and it was certainly an opportunity.

    ''Take this opportunity to eliminate one of them once and for all.''

    But you want to make sure that as few people as possible get caught in the crossfire.

    Especially if it''s a ssmate you care about.

    "Back off. Unless you want to die."

    Vikir warned briefly from beneath his Night Hound mask.

    "...!"

    "...!"

    Bianca and Sinir shuddered slightly at the words.

    This was the first time they''d ever seen the Night Hound in person. Nor have they ever heard its voice.

    For Bianca and Sinir, who have only ever read about the Night Hound in newspapers, he''s just another viin.

    So Vikir purposely spoke in a cold voice without a single ounce of warmth, filled with mana, so that Bianca and Sinir would be terrified simply by hearing the warning.

    "Is that really the Night Hound? I''ve never heard such a horrible voice in my life."

    "I''m sure the face behind the mask is just as terrifying as that voice!"

    But Dolores had a different reaction.

    "... Guys, let''s stay back."

    She knows the Night Hound.

    That his inner self is sublime and holy, and that he is the only one who can stand up to the demon at this point.

    At the same time, Dolores sent some of her juniors to inform the professors of the current situation.

    ''We cannot summon too many professors, or even the Night Hound will be in danger.''

    We need a saving grace, someone who can calm things down a bit.

    One or two academy professors would be just the right number.

    Dolores adjusted the power of the Salvation Army while simultaneously radiating divine power to control the undead around her.

    Next. The Night Hound and the Corpse Queen faced off once more.

    Vikir murmured low.

    "This time, I won''t miss."

    But the corpse queen''s reaction was slightly different.

    [Take it off.]

    ...?

    Vikir shook his head, and the corpse queen made herself clear once more.

    [Take off your mask. Reveal your face].

    The corpse queen makes strange demands out of nowhere, but there is no reason for Vikir toply.

    "Die."

    Vikir draws his ck bow, Anubis.

    Boom!

    Five trajectories of Bk''s archery tear the atmosphere into pieces.

    Seeing this, the Corpse Queen''s aura exploded.

    Thud!

    The skeleton soldiers rose up and formed a wall to block the arrows, followed by a vague inferno as a topping.

    ...Pow!

    Vikir quickly stepped back.

    A fireball fell from the spot where he had just stood, engulfing everything in its path.

    Meanwhile. Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir, who had watched the Night Hound and the Corpse Queen sh, each said something.

    "Is this viin versus viin?"

    "I don''t know what these viins are fighting about, but it would be perfect if they both died."

    "We need to get the professors!"

    "This is one of those moments when the phrase ''Stop poisoning by poison'', and ''fight against one another''."

    "Let''s get out of the way, we might end up in a whale fight...."

    The Night Hounds are an Evil defined by the Empire that must be eradicated.

    ck mages outside of the Empire''s control are also dangerous, and their power and harm are not far behind the Night Hounds.

    Therefore, everyone who could see the situation wanted the Night Hound and the Corpse Queen to be exterminated here and now.

    ...only one. Except for Dolores, who knew what was going on.

    ''Please don''t get hurt.''

    She was cheering on the Night Hound with a piteous expression.

    A pilgrim on a path of sacrifice and hardship. A great being who sacrifices for the sake of all, yet never shows any sign of regret.

    I can''t help but cast a pitying nce at him, who must be bearing all the blood, wounds, and pain alone at this very moment.

    [....]

    And the corpse queen, noticing the same gaze from Dolores, became even more ufortable.

    [...Soul mate? You''re kidding!]

    A veil of pitch-ck fire formed around her, and sharp iron skewers began to protrude from it.

    [Remove your mask and reveal your identity, Night Hound!]

    It''s the corpse queen, still obsessed with the face in the mask from earlier.

    But.

    "Death to the demon."

    Vikir doesn''t answer, only sending arrows flying.

    The corpse queen''s fire grows hotter and hotter as she continues to make demands.

    [...Really? You don''t have any intention of speaking, do you?]

    She momentarily sidetracks the dead soldiers'' advance.

    [Then I will force you to speak].

    Suddenly, the hordes of skeletons change direction and spread out.

    Intent on inflicting AoE damage on an unspecified number of people.

    The first targets were the crowd near the bar: Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir, among others.

    "Ouch! They''reing this way! We''ll stop them!"

    "We can''t let the civilians get hurt!"

    "Ooh, do you think we can stop it from our line?"

    "We have to try!"

    "We have to hold on!"

    This is where my experience with midterms at the Academyes in handy.

    Defense Test. A defense against an onught of monsters.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir had already been through this before and were able to hold off the skeleton soldiers.

    But practice isn''t the same as the real thing.

    The students were overwhelmed by the momentum of the creatures as they clung to them, baring their teeth and nails.

    "Ouch! We''re breached!"

    "We''re in danger!"

    "Hey, is there anyone who can help! I''m pierced!"

    "We''re breached too!"

    "W, wrong, there''s no way we can do this!"

    Even if you''re in the mood for a party, you can''t help but notice what''s going on at this point.

    Slowly, the crowd at the very back of the concert began to realize what was happening.

    The dead, with their unconditional hatred of the living, descend upon the students.

    Catastrophe was inevitable.

    ...then.

    Quack, quack, quack!

    The storm raged, sweeping away the skeletons in its wake.

    A ck cloak fluttered before the eyes of the exhausted students.

    "Professor!"

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir shouted together, their faces flushed with color.

    The man who had reduced countless skeleton soldiers to bone dust with a single blow.

    It was Professor Morg Banshee.

    "What the hell is going on here, why are there undead on campus...?"

    It didn''t take him long to realize what was happening.

    This was a crisis of the first order.

    Wake-up call.

    The skeleton soldiers are on the move, targeting students and spectators at the academy.

    But not a single one of them managed to break through Professor Banshee''s defenses.

    "You will not be able to harm my students by a hair''s breadth."

    Professor Banshee stood in the way of his students with his usual stern and sarcastic demeanor.

    Whoosh!

    Hellfire and iron skewers flew, but Professor Banshee blocked them all with a wall of wind and ice.

    Woohoo!

    But even Professor Banshee''s storm windows and ice walls couldn''tpletely block the Corpse Queen''s attack.

    Taking advantage of Professor Banshee''s distraction, the Legion of the Dead broke ranks and attempted to cross over to the concert hall beyond the bar.

    "...Professor Sady!"

    Professor Banshee opened his mouth to call out, but a high-pitched chuckle came from the other side.

    "Ho ho ho �C I told you not to call me by my first name, grim old man."

    A stalk of whip flew out like a snake, crushing the skeleton soldiers on the other side.

    Thud!

    Kill Hill''s heel pierced the crown of a skeleton rolling across the floor.

    Then, a tall, slender woman in killer heels, Professor Sady, appeared.

    Puff, puff, puff!

    The whip she wielded devastated a radius of several dozen meters, sweeping the dead away like garbage.

    Professor Banshee red at Sady in an annoyed tone.

    "How unlucky for you to be on duty at a festival."

    "I don''t care who''s on call, it''s ridiculous."

    But aside from her work attitude, Sady''s skills are the real deal.

    She quickly subdues every single one of the dead who make their way toward the crowd.

    Professor Banshee, meanwhile, had multicast several great spells of fire, ice, and earth and was aiming for the back of the bar.

    "The other professors who were contacted should be here soon, and it''s time to hunt down the bad guys."

    Professor Banshee was confident of victory.

    As the Night Hound and the Corpse Queen bared their teeth at each other, he was ready to ambush them.

    But beside him, Professor Sady had no answer.

    "...."

    She just nces around, her unreadable eyes scanning the area for any sign of backup.

    Just then.

    ...Kurrrr!

    A strange phenomenon was detected.

    A ck curtain suddenly descended around them.

    A shield made of an unknown, eerie aura, dark mana, descended like a curtain marking the end of the stage.

    The curtain wasposed of a demonic energy so powerful and strange that even Professor Banshee, who was well versed in magic, had never seen it before.

    ".....Barrier?"

    Professor Banshee hurriedly cast a series of spells that had been created.

    "Hohoho-what is this? Is it a barrier? Who hit it?"

    Professor Sady cracked his whip, but couldn''t pierce the ck curtain.

    Soon, the barrier disappeared in an instant, hiding its presence.

    " ... It didn''t run away, it''s still in this space. We just can''t see it."

    Professor Banshee scanned his surroundings with a sharp gaze.

    The Night Hound and the Corpse Queen, who had disappeared into the subspace of the barrier, were still out there somewhere.

    Knowing that, both Professor Banshee and Sady remained alert and on guard.

    ... But they did not know it.

    / Ring

    -Finit hic Deus -On

    -Finit hic Deus, the realm of God ends here.

    This ring is the product of the power of Andromalius, one of the Ten, and it is the most powerful ring of all, so powerful that anyone but a monster or a child under the age of 8 cannot even look into it.

    ...And.

    "You will die here."

    In a subspace void that no one can peek into.

    The Night Hound and the Corpse Queen were about to begin their fight, once again alone.

 Chapter 213: Festival Night (10)

    <h4>Chapter 213: Festival Night (10)</h4>

    A ck curtain falls.

    Tsutsutsutsuts...

    Vikir rubbed his ring to create a barrier.

    Creating the barrier took a lot of mana, but it was definitely worth it.

    Two spaces are ovepping in one coordinate, but they are distinctly different concepts and cannot interfere with each other.

    This would be very useful if you needed to store a lot of stuff, or if you needed to get into a big fight with a lot of people watching.

    Vikir stared into the space between the barrier.

    An empty abyss. A barren, vast wastnd.

    Countless swords stuck into the ground, old and weathered by the winds of time.

    Only broken and destroyed stone statues roll around.

    "...."

    Beyond the countless swords, Vikir gazed at the two statues that stood tall in the center of the abyssal hollow.

    One was that of Hugo Les Baskerville, and beside him was that of Osiris Les Baskerville.

    They were enormouspared to the size of the other misceneous statues, and though they were chipped here and there, they were still solid.

    And beneath them were a number of smaller, shattered statues, all of them with familiar faces.

    The Baskerville family''s servants, nannies, butlers, guardian knights... ... asionally, I saw stone statues that seemed quiterge, and they were the Seven Counts.

    Vikir had an instinctive hunch.

    ''This is the mind of Set Les Baskerville.''

    If he was right, what was Set''s state of mind before he was possessed by the demon?

    What had he seen, what had he heard, what had he thought, what had he lived in?

    The statues of his father and brother still loomedrge in the space that had been left empty after their deaths.

    Vikir recalled the battle with Andromalius.

    ''..., son, what are you doing there?''

    ''Ah, father, I came here on business...!?''

    Andromalius froze at the mere sight of Hugo because of the residual thoughts of Set, the original owner of the body.

    His inability to live up to his father''s expectations, the inferiorityplex he had with his brother, and his intense self-hatred.

    It must have destroyed his rtionships with everyone around him.

    And it would have driven him to the depths of his mind, where there was nothing but empty darkness.

    Set must have heard Andromalius'' voice in the deepest reaches of this barren space.

    When he was at his most bitter and most desperate.

    ''Well, those who make contracts with the demon are usually like that. Theye when a person''s heart ispletely broken.''

    A broken heart means you''ve given up on life.

    Unlike the lesser demons, who pact through emotions such as momentary pleasure or greed, the higher demons of the Demon King ss only visit such people.

    The moment when a man, once the most virtuous of all, falls from the top to the bottom in the greatest of falls.

    A terrible temptation, an irresistible offer.

    Such is probably the case with the Corpse Queen, who now stands before Vikir''s eyes.

    [...is this within the barrier of the Ten Corpse?

    The Eighth, the Corpse Queen, raised her head and looked at the Vikir before her.

    Vikir looked at the corpse queen through the eyeholes of his mask.

    The skull-masked woman must have a story, too.

    Perhaps she''d struggled through unimaginable pain, sorrow, and screams before epting the demon''s offer.

    ''... but no grave without an excuse.''

    What the Corpse Queen''s story was that led her to take Morg Snake''s ce in the position of Eight Corpse.

    As far as Vikir is concerned, she is simply an absolute evil that killed countless allies before she was turned.

    "Let''s end this, demon."

    The battle would have been much more difficult if it had been the Eight Corpse who had taken over Morg Snake''s body.

    But the current Corpse Queen is not yet up to par.

    Her talent and potential for magic was on par with Morg Snake''s, even exceeding his, but time had not yet allowed the Eight Corpse Seere itself to develop much strength.

    Furthermore, the Corpse Queen, for some reason, had not yet fully surrendered herself to the demon.

    "This is good news in many ways."

    Vikir immediately fed Anubis an arrow.

    Puff-puff-puff!

    The deadly snipe he had learned from Aiyen shot towards the Corpse Queen and flew away.

    But.

    POP!

    A rock wall rising ny degrees from the ground deflected all the arrows.

    Geronto stood firmly in front of the Corpse Queen.

    Hoodeducs-

    The bone seeds sown by the Corpse Queen began to produce countless skeleton soldiers once again.

    With her undead army at her side, the Corpse Queen once again regained her monarchial dignity.

    [Show me your face].

    She was determined to tear off the mask of the Night Hound and leave him naked.

    Vikir frowned at her persistence.

    Soon, arge number of dead soldiers began to press in around him.

    Archery was at a disadvantage against such arge number.

    The Corpse Queen was well aware of this, and was pressuring Vikir from all sides.

    However.

    ...A sh!

    Vikir unleashed his true power only now that all the eyes were gone.

    [Hack-]

    Vikir, who had attached the threads from the cub to Hugo''s statue, rose up from his seat.

    The ground where Vikir stood a moment ago was covered in skeleton soldiers.

    Quack, quack, quack!

    A blood-red aura swirls around like a six-and-a-half-headed snake, tearing the ground apart.

    Baskerville Form Sword Technique!

    A crimson aura rises up and engulfs the dead soldiers.

    Passtsss...

    An exorcism ritual using physical force. The undead return to where they belong.

    Crackle, crackle, crackle! Pow!

    The power of the highest level of the Graduator burst forth unchecked.

    Vikir pushed forward, ughtering his enemies relentlessly.

    Six and a half gigantic wheels made of aura were moving forward, breaking, crushing, crushing, and tearing the bone wall without hesitation.

    Lich Geronto cast a few spells to try and stop Vikir''s attack, but it was no use.

    Source.

    [....]

    The Corpse Queen does nothing as she watches Geronto get pushed back.

    Vikir was able to easily break through the encirclement and stand in front of the Corpse Queen.

    Soon, he''ll be able to kill the demon and its host in front of him.

    ''First, we''ll separate the neck and head, then remove the skull mask to see what''s inside.''

    "You will remove the mask."

    With that, the tip of the de extending from Vikir''s wrist is aimed at the Corpse Queen''s throat.

    You will now know the identity of the one who has taken the ce of the Eighth Corpse, the Morg Snake who rules the dark faction of Morg the Mage.

    Then.

    [... no].

    The Corpse Queen''s mouth opened.

    [I can''t take off my mask].

    At the same time.

    Pow!

    The tip of Vikir''s de deflected.

    It wasn''t because the Corpse Queen had done something tricky, and it wasn''t because of apse in concentration or stamina.

    Instinct. The instincts of a veteran hound who has seen countless battles, and at thest second, the tip of the sword slightly twisted its trajectory.

    In the end, Vikir struck the corpse queen near her forehead, and it ricocheted off the hard part of her skull mask.

    Crack!

    It was as if he had struck a chestnut.

    ...Crack!

    The ears of the skull mask were incontinent.

    "...?"

    Vikirnded on the ground and shook his head.

    He didn''t understand why he''d just twisted the tip of his sword, even to himself.

    ''What is this? Has this ever happened before?''

    No, I assure you. Not once. In all my life, before and after my regression, in all the many, many slopes I''ve crossed, I''ve never made that mistake.

    Only.

    Parr...

    The right hand holding the magic sword Beelzebub trembled faintly.

    This was not a matter of the flesh but of the spirit. a movement of the mind.

    The emotions he had killed, or thought he had killed, as he rose to the highest levels of the Graduator, were still alive and stirring, albeit faintly.

    ''What the hell....''

    The Night Hound''s brow furrowed slightly at a situation he had never experienced before.

    The Corpse Queen, in contrast, remained nonchnt.

    Her voice was steadfast, as if she had some sort of conviction.

    [I can''t take off the mask].

    "...."

    [This was put on by contract. I can neither show my face nor reveal my name of my own volition].

    "...?"

    [That''s why I need you to reveal your identity].

    "...!"

    The Corpse Queen''s voice trembles slightly.

    A voice so hoarse from crying so much, from shouting so much, from being so overwhelmed.

    But the watery voice at the end resembles the voice of the past, if only for a moment.

    "...No way."

    Vikir froze for a moment.

    And when the Corpse Queen saw him hesitate, she shouted again.

    [So show me your face! Tell me your name!]

    At the same time, hot mes erupted from the Corpse Queen''s hands.

    ck infernal mes, and iron skewers poking out of the center of the mes.

    In the heat of the fire and the skewers, Deadpool stepped in front of Vikir and quickly raised his sword.

    Baskerville''s fangs burst forth, shredding both the mes and the skewers.

    And it plunged straight into the defenseless corpse queen.

    ...Woodduck, snap!

    Another crack in her skull mask.

    Soon, the bone fragments slowly scattered.

    Time passed slowly.

    The pieces of the mask fall apart, and the pieces of the memory fit together.

    In a distant memory amidst the shards and bones, the face of a child, a young girl, rises to the surface of my subconscious.

    ''No! Vikir! Pleasee back!''

    The same voice Ist heard.

    A face from so long ago was here.

 Chapter 214: My Neck Will Be Your Sheath (1)

    <h4>Chapter 214: My Neck Will Be Your Sheath (1)</h4>

    The Corpse Queen.

    The skull mask that covered her face was pulled off.

    Inside was a very familiar face, one that hadn''t changed much since she was eight years old.

    Eyes as big as deer''s, always moist whenever she looked this way, dark eyebrows, a sharp nose, and plump lips.

    The only thing that has changed a little is that most of the fat on the cheeks has disappeared, all the freckles on the face have disappeared, and the colorbination of the ck and white eyes has changed.

    Morg Camus.

    She was looking at him, her expression exactly the same as thest time he had seen her in Vikir''s memory.

    The face streaked with tears and snot, the expression that now refused to speak, the hoarse throat.

    It was as if time had stood still since that moment when she had fought to the death against the ''Madame of the Eightlegs'' in the depth of the ck and Red Mountain.

    "...."

    Vikir was silent for a moment.

    Why hadn''t he known before?

    The original culprit. The main enemy. The ck Curtain.

    He''d been running tirelessly, thinking he had to kill the demon and stop the age of destruction.

    The appearance of the Ten Corpses in front of himpletely excluded all thoughts and feelings.

    He was only concerned with killing his enemies.

    Was that why? Vikir could think of all the things he''d been missing, all the things he''d deliberately avoided thinking about.

    Camus hadn''t missed a day in the years since Vikir''s disappearance.

    After leaving the Light Faction of her uncle ''Morg Adolf'', with whom she had such a good rtionship, she joined the Dark Faction of his maternal uncle ''Morg Snake'', with whom she had a bad rtionship.

    Afterward, she dered herself in a closed training and cut off all ties with the world.

    Coincidentally, there was an event that urred at this point.

    A ghostly woman took the ce of Morg Snake, who was supposed to be the Corpse King. The Corpse Queen, whose identity in life was unclear.

    She raised the undead Morg Rose, who was killed in a war between her enemies and the natives of the ck Mountains, to pamper her.

    She was also in possession of the remains of Ahheman, who was supposed to be abandoned in the depths of the Red and ck Mountains.

    In hindsight, there were many strange things about her, even when we first met her.

    The Corpse Queen was strangely enraged by Bk''s archery skills, perhaps due to the memory of losing Vikir and Rose in quick session.

    Her flinching at the Baskerville-style sword technique at the end, and the way she grabbed Rose from behind when she fell unconscious, were both signs.

    Vikir asked, trying to remain as calm as possible.

    "Why did you be the Eight Corpse, and why does your voice sound like that?"

    [...It''s either because I''ve been crying for years, ever since you disappeared, or it''spletely locked up].

    The Corpse Queen''s voice was even more husky than before.

    How many times had she wailed, screamed, struggled, copsed in exhaustion, passed out, woke up, and wailed again.

    Her neck was already tattered.

    Camus said, tears dripping from his ck-and-white eyes.

    [Fool... I thought you were... dead... and I was going to find your body or something...]

    So you''re saying that you''ve been searching the Red and ck Mountain depths for all these years, not missing a single day?

    ...That''s understandable up to a point.

    However, Camus next words caused Vikir to press a hand to his forehead.

    [So... I tried to bring you back to life].

    ck magic. The art of bringing the dead back to life, the resuscitation of the dead.

    Was that why she left the Light Faction and joined the Dark Faction?

    Certainly, Morg Snake, the leader of the Dark Faction, is a master of ck magic.

    Before his regression, he, too, signed a contract with the Eight Corpse Seere to reach the ultimate in ck magic.

    Then I remembered the testimony I had heard from Highsis, Midsis, and Lowsis in Red Fang Castle.

    ''If it''s Camus, she''s in closed training right now.''

    ''...Closed?''

    ''She split up with her Uncle Adolf.''

    I was told that Camus had changed a bit since the search was stopped.

    She''d lost a lot of her bubbly personality and spoke less.

    Then, out of the blue, Morg Adolf announced his withdrawal from the Light Faction, of which he was a member.

    Since Camus had always followed Adolf, who was his uncle and the leader of a Light Faction, like a parent, Morg was shocked even internally, but Adolf said that he did not express any official opinion on this.

    He watched in silence as Camus defected and joined the dark ftion, which stood in opposition to the light faction.

    Knowing how sad Camus had been since "that night" in depth, and how much she had been beating herself up over it, he hadn''t dared to dissuade her.

    "...."

    Vikir frowned.

    Camus, who had forsaken everything and chosen the path of the ck Mage to bring himself back from the dead and make him undead.

    What had happened to the woman who, if fate had its way, would one day be the Ironblood Empress, the Invincible, and rule the world beyond Morg?

    Vikir asked in a low voice.

    "So you''re saying that you made a contract with the demon because of me? Why?"

    [Do you ask because you don''t know?]

    "I''m asking because I don''t know. It''s said that you became the Eight Corpse to find my body and turn it into a undead."

    [... It kind of sounds like that when you say it like that].

    Camus thought for a moment, then nodded in agreement. She then stated her position simply.

    [If death would separate us, I wanted to be there behind it].

    There was a moment of silence between them.

    "...."

    [....]

    The Night Hound and the Corpse Queen removed their masks and faced each other''s bare faces.

    It was Vikir who broke the awkward silence between them.

    "... But in the end, demons must die."

    A man is a man. Life is life.

    No matter how heavy an individual''s personal feelings may be, they cannot be weighed against the fate of humanity as a whole.

    Eventually, the picture became clear.

    A man must kill a woman to prevent the destruction of the world.

    A woman who doesn''t care if the world ends as long as she can be with her man.

    [....]

    Camus has no answer.

    Then, her lips parted.

    [Okay].

    Vikir''s eyes widened a little. It was apletely unexpected answer.

    But to his surprise, Camus didn''t seem to mind.

    [Ever since I joined forces with the demon, I knew my life wasn''t going to end well].

    Camus and Vikir''s gazes locked together.

    Camus took a step in front of Vikir.

    Her shoulders and chest straightened.

    [Now, kill me].

    "...."

    Vikir hesitated for a moment.

    One of the Ten Corpses says she''s going to give her head, so why is he hesitating?

    The faces of so manyrades-in-arms shed through his mind.

    But despite his guilt and sense of debt, Beelzebub, the magic sword at his wrist, does not move.

    Finally, Camus speaks again.

    [What are you doing, kill me?]

    "...."

    [Kill me! Kill me!]

    Suddenly, her voice rises.

    kwakwang! hududug- hududug- hududug-

    Emotions and mana surged, and showers of fire and iron skewers began to rain down around them.

    Tears well up in Camus''s eyes and trickle down her cheeks.

    [Yeah! You obviously don''t like ckened witches like me, so you can kill me now and get it out of your life or not! Your meddlesome ex-girlfriend will die right here and now, and you can live happily ever after with your innocent bagel current girlfriend, Saintess!]

    "????"

    Vikir''s reaction was iprehensible.

    What was an ex-girlfriend and what was a current girlfriend? And why the name of St. Dolores?

    Vikir knew there was a fatal misunderstanding, but it was hard to exin.

    To add insult to injury, the demonic energy emanating from Camus seemed to be growing stronger.

    The closer it got to midnight.

    Camus unleashed a barrage of magic that seemed to use up every ounce of mana in her body, and then she slumped back in her spot and began to sob.

    [You bastard! It''s been a while since we met, so the demon must die? Who doesn''te from the Baskervilles? ... pup! You bastard!]

    "...."

    Vikir stood still, unable to speak.

    This was the third time he had seen tears in Camus''s eyes.

    The first time when they met at age eight, then again when they were older and reunited at Red Fang Castle, and now.

    All three times, Vikir has been unable to offer anyfort in response to Camus''s tears.

    And as if Camus was used to it, after a while, she stopped crying on her own.

    [...I know, you''re not good atforting people].

    I suspect a simr conversation took ce when she lost her cousin to the Rococo tribe.

    Rose, who was next to Camus, who still had red eyes, hugged her andforted her.

    Then.

    ...with a pop!

    Camus pulled a tattered booklet out of her arms and threw it in Vikir''s direction.

    [It''s my diary].

    "...."

    [Even if I disappear, read it at least once, there''s a lot of stuff I can''t say to your face].

    Of course, even if Vikir answered, there would be no Camus in this world this time.

    "...."

    Vikir picks up the diary from the floor.

    It is quite heavy for a book made entirely of paper.

    It was the weight of all the time a woman had written to a man, inscribing feelings that would never be answered, that would forever remain questions.

    With , Camus loosened his front cloth.

    The bony armor cracked to the left and right, revealing a white neck in the middle.

    [Now do it].

    "...."

    [You''re good. No, you''re the only one who deserves it].

    "...."

    [I gave up on the prize when I made my contract with the demon anyway, I might as well go to your hands].

    Camus stepped in front of Vikir and knelt down silently.

    She took Vikir''s right hand and brought it to the hilt of her own throat.

    [My throat will be your sheath].

    Camus'' lips touch Vikir''s right arm. Vikir feels a small trembling breath.

    "...."

    Vikir was still unable to move.

    Ten demons who crossed over from the demon world to the human world. The giant gates they wouldter open. The age of destruction they will bring.

    Before those gates open, I must kill all ten demons.

    ...Boom!

    Vikir clenched his hands together.

    Camus looked up at Vikir as if he was determined.

    But why? Vikir''s hand didn''t move.

    It was due to an emotion that lurked in the depths of his heart, unknown even to him.

    Suddenly, Vikir''s mind was reeling with the details of Baskerville''s seventh form.

    -To reach the pinnacle of the sixth level, you must let go of your emotions.

    -But to open the door to the seventh, you must embrace it.

    To reach the highest level of the Graduator, you must be a being of steel, with no emotions.

    But to reach the next level, the highest level, Swordmaster, you must bring your emotions back to life.

    Vikir has lived a life of hardened steel.

    A killing machine, stripped of all emotion and driven strictly bymand. A hound of death.

    Throughout his life, he has loved no one and been loved by no one.

    That was also proven in the Dantalian match. Aside fromradeship, there was no bond that connected Vikir to the world.

    But.

    But Vikir was agitated now.

    The girl kneeling before him, opening her arms and chest to receive his sword.

    As he looked down into the demon''s face, he could feel a faint emotion he hadn''t realized existed stirring within him.

    No matter how heavy an individual''s feelings may be, they cannot be weighed against the fate of the entire human race.

    ... But in the face of such a heavy sense of duty, an iron heart bes a superhuman heart.

    A wall began to appear in Vikir''s vision.

    The wall of the Swordmaster, the ultimate in swordsmanship �C the ability to cut through anything, even a formless spirit or abstract concept �C loomedrge in front of him.

    And at that moment.

    ...Pow!

    Pain shot through his lower abdomen.

    This sensation of something hot piercing through.

    [...what?]

    Camus looked dazed for a moment.

    A metal skewer extended from her hand and pierced Vikir''s stomach.

    At the same time.

    Tsutsutsutsutsuts...

    A ck mist began to rise from Camus''s back. It was forcibly controlling her body.

    [It''s midnight, littledy].

    An eerie voice flows from a crack in the fog that is torn like a mouth.

    .

    Danger Rating : S

    Size: ?

    Found in: ''Serpent''s Womb'', Deep inside the Gate of Destruction

    -Nicknamed ''Eighth Corpse''.

    One of the Ten gues, natural enemies of mankind, iprehensible and unkible.

    "Herds of cattle and animals shall perish."

    �C The Ten Commandments 10: Top.

    It was a demonic voice, tangled up in half of Camus''s consciousness.

 Chapter 215: My Neck Will Be Your Sheath (2)

    <h4>Chapter 215: My Neck Will Be Your Sheath (2)</h4>

    [...?]

    Camus looked stunned for a moment.

    A metal skewer extended from her hand and pierced Vikir''s stomach.

    [It''s midnight, little one].

    An unpleasant voice emanated from the crack in the mist that had been torn open like a mouth.

    The eighth demon, Seere.

    At midnight, it began forcibly controlling Camus''s body.

    [Oh, no! No...!?]

    Camus cried out in desperation.

    But the heaviest thing in the world is an eyelid.

    For a moment, Camus''s head snapped open like a marite with a broken thread. And soon apletely different expression appeared on her face.

    Her eyes loosened slightly, and she smiled bewitchingly.

    The demon king Seere, who ruled over the herds of corpses and bones, was there.

    "...!"

    Vikir recognized Camus at once.

    How could he forget those sticky eyes that held so many of hispanions in the line of fire?

    [Hohoho- you''re the same Vikir, I''ve heard so much about you from my ''roommate''].

    Seere said as she looked at the Vikir in front of her.

    Unlike other Ten Commandments, which usually referred to their original owner as the ''host'', Seere was referring to Camus''s consciousness as a roommate.

    ''A form of roommate rather than ...host? A strange rtionship.''

    Vikir stepped back, covering the hole in his stomach with his hand.

    Certainly the corpse queen before him was different from the other Ten Commandments.

    She''s half Camus, half Seere, and they''vee to an arrangement where they share the day by mutual agreement.

    Perhaps this is why the demonic aura didn''t seem so strong when I first met her.

    Vikir regenerated the wound on his stomach using the power of the bog smander.

    Tsutsutsuts...

    The speed of healing was lower than before. It wasn''t because her regeneration power had decreased, but because the damage from the magic had be more powerful.

    The dark mana floating in the air had also be much thicker since the body''s controller had changed from Camus to Seere.

    ''Is this 100% of her?''

    Vikir swallowed hard and looked up.

    In front of him, Seere, who had begged for Camus''s body, was walking towards him.

    [I almost ruined the job in the end because of one trivial emotion. This is why all humans are thrown away. They don''t understand the greater good.]

    Demons generally have no concept of gender, but they still vaguely distinguish between male and female bodies.

    Seere was technically a female, and as such, her voice, gestures, facial expressions, and everything else was tinged with deadly color.

    And when it manifested in the body of Camus, the impact was enormous.

    But fortunately, there were no males around here that could be charmed within Andromalius''s barrier.

    With a strong will, Vikir cleared his mind of Seere''s disturbing aura.

    He asked in a calm tone.

    "How long has it been in your body?"

    [I don''t know? It''s been a while, I guess, because it was around the time she was mastering the Art of Complete Revival...]

    Vikir''s eyebrows twitched at that.

    The veteran who had lived through the Age of Destruction had eaten not only sword rice, but also quite a bit of magic rice.

    As such, he had a vague idea of what Seere was referring to as a ''art ofplete revival''.

    Seere spoke in a mixed voice.

    [If you''re a swordsman and don''t know, the ''Art of Complete Revival'' is a magic that drains the caster''s life and brings the target back to lifepletely. In short, it''s like giving away one''s life].

    However, to cast this spell, the caster must have the remains of the target.

    A certain amount of the target''s body parts, such as ashes, blood, nails, and hair, must be present for the spell to beplete.

    Vikir asked briefly.

    "But that foreign magic is considered taboo even among ck mage, right? The rebound penalty in case of failure is toorgepared to the slim possibility of sess."

    The ''rebound penalty'' refers to the strain ced on the veins of the entire body, including the brain, by the explosive backflow of mana if the spell fails halfway through.

    At that, Seereughed out loud.

    [Hohoho! That''s right, you''re admitting your stupidity right after you''ve had an affair. But hey, I am gratefu, because I got this body thanks to this stupid bitch doing something like that].

    "...?"

    Vikir frowned. Seere grinned from ear to ear.

    [This kid had dabbled in all sorts of ck magic that was forbidden even by his own family, and had a mana surge].

    "...!"

    Mana Surge is the most burdensome of the rebound penalties, and is the most feared by all mana users.

    Simply put, the mana in your veins bursts and spurts out of your veins, wreaking havoc on your body, and the danger is nothing short of a stroke or cerebral hemorrhage.

    Most will die instantly, but there is a small chance that they will go berserk, rampage, or turn vegetative.

    In some cases, the umted mana is released all at once through the sweat pores of the body, causing an explosion of terrifying proportions.

    This seemed to be the case with Camus.

    [She was a fearless brat who relied on her talent and determination. Hohoho- there''s a guy she''d love to see again? What kind of fool risks her life for that?]

    Seere sneered as she looked down at Camus''s body.

    [If I had a face like this and a body like this, I would never have lived like that... I would have been able to easily beat up young males and be stronger by draining their blood... Ahhh, the world is so hard].

    Camus practiced ck magic, which was considered too dangerous even by the Morg, the Mage Family.

    Only one reason. One day, when she finds Vikir''s remains, she intends to share her lifeblood to bring him back to life.

    But taboo magic is taboo for a reason.

    Outer magic is powerful and fascinating.

    Many geniuses who could have made their mark on human history had they lived have fallen under its spell and been destroyed by it, and the number of people who have been buried in the dust of history is countless.

    The stronger and smarter you are, the easier it is to fall into the trap, and it makes everyone think that they are different.

    And the end result is the same for everyone.

    Crippled or dead.

    The mana surge causes the veins in the body to shut down.

    Camus experienced a mana surge at thest moment beforepleting her spell, leaving her teetering on the edge.

    With half of her brain dead. She was half dead, half alive, not really dead and not really alive.

    And then, as a living corpse, a figure appeared in front of her.

    [Little girl, why don''t you make a contract with me?]

    The fall of a noble idealist. A being who had fallen in the most dramatic trajectory from top to bottom.

    At the end of the fall, at the bottom, lurking with its mouth open, was the grim demon Seere.

    [Well, a normal mage would have died a hundred times over, so this girl''s talent for surviving in a vegetative body in such a situation is truly remarkable. Hohoho- I have one good eye, don''t I?]

    Seere said in a pleased tone, as if she was quite fond of the body she was upying.

    [Maybe if she didn''t have that... longing and desperation for a man, she would have been a little less impatient, and with a little more time to mature and grow stronger, she would have been able to perfect the ''Art of Complete Revival''].

    "...."

    [Hohoho- well, that''s all wrong now].

    Finished speaking, Seere raised her head and looked at Vikir.

    Kurrrrr!

    His aura boiled like asphalt.

    Only now did the demonic scent begin to flow at a 100% intensity.

    Puff-puff-puff!

    ck mes and iron skewers flew out, aimed at Vikir.

    The magic power, which had never been stronger than before, pressed down on the entire field within the formation and tightened.

    "...."

    Vikir stepped back and raised his ck bow, Anubis.

    The hunter''s focus remained firmly fixed on the bull''s-eye even in these extreme conditions.

    Pop! Pop! Pow!

    A hole opened up at the base of the mes, and the iron skewers were struck by the arrow and sent flying in a shower of sparks.

    Seere chuckled.

    [Indeed, the hunter who killed Andromalius and Dantalian, but you can''t catch me like that... huh?]

    But the demon''sughter didn''tst long.

    Kirik-.

    An unpleasant sensation washed over her face.

    Seere frowned and waved her hand.

    [...What is this?]

    Something like a thin thread is pressing against her face, preventing her from moving forward.

    It was thin enough to not be easily observed by the naked eye, but it was quite tough.

    It was like a wire.

    Karak-

    There were countless such threads in the air.

    [hack hack hack]]

    Little Madam. The creature had set a trap of spider webs around Seere''s body.

    [What? Isn''t that a spider from the Euphoric Hell? Why is it here?]

    Seere tried to break the threads with her strength, as if they were a nuisance.

    Taeae-ae-ang �C Gee-gee-.

    Surprisingly, it didn''t break even with the strength of a demon king ss demon.

    Of course, Seere wasn''t the type to show off his physical strength, but it was still quite unexpected.

    [How dare this bugger...!?]

    Seere breathed out mes and tried to incinerate the web.

    But there was no way a veteran demon hunter like Vikir would miss a moment of distraction.

    Puff-puff-puck!

    Arrow after arrow flew, piercing Seere''s limbs. None of them were critical, but all were likely to affect her movements.

    [Gah!]

    Seere screamed, and the hound of death bared its teeth in front of her.

    ...Whoosh!

    The sword''s aura burned like the sun.

    Vikir unleashed a long ck aura de.

    In an instant, Seere shouted in panic.

    [If you kill me, you''ll also kill this girl!]

    The human mind is a fragile thing, easy to y with. From a demon''s perspective, it is.

    Especially when they''re as deceptive as she was.

    ... But.

    "No."

    Vikir''s grip on the sword was firm, unwavering.

    "Only you will die."

 Chapter 216: My Neck Will Be Your Sheath (3)

    <h4>Chapter 216: My Neck Will Be Your Sheath (3)</h4>

    Seere''s expression bes wet and distorted in the dark red glow emitted by the Aura Sword.

    [If you kill me, this girl will die too!]

    But Vikir replies with veiled determination.

    "No. Only you will die."

    At the same time, a red crescent moon rose and lodged itself in Seere''s neck.

    ...Blood!

    Red blood dripped down.

    In an instant, Seere jerked her neck back to avoid the blow.

    Vikir twisted his sword at thest second, deflecting the blow.

    ''...Failure.''

    Vikir clicked his tongue.

    He''d verbally assured himself of sess, but it was a bluff.

    At thest moment, Vikir hesitated to slit Camus''s neck, which saved Seere''s life.

    ...Boom!

    Vikir gritted his teeth as he rolled across the skewered field.

    Since reaching the top of the Graduator, there was little matter he couldn''t slice through.

    But he still couldn''t cut through abstract things, things like souls and emotions.

    Vikir''s mind shed back to a Hugo sword strike he had once witnessed.

    A blow so casually swung at the fleeing Andromalius that it split the sky into seven pieces and sliced through Andromalius'' mind, which was located somewhere on the border between matter and antimatter.

    ''If I can''t reach that level, I won''t be able to separate Camus and Seere.''

    For now, Camus and Seere are bound together by a contract, a bond of bad blood.

    The unyielding knot is abstract and conceptual, and even the Graduator''s aura, which can cut through steel, cannot break it.

    ...But not so with the aura of the Swordmaster, the highest realm.

    A superhuman power that surpasses even ironman. Only it canpletely slice and sever the rtionship between Camus and Seere.

    ''With my current strength, I can only kill them both.''

    It was a difficult task indeed.

    Pfft.

    Magic and sword intersected again.

    Puff-puff-puck!

    Twenty-four halberds stabbed into Vikir''s left forearm.

    Seere was also struck by a sword, but this time, t was only a blow that avoided a vital area.

    [Hohoho- once again, your actions don''t match your words, try being a little more impudent].

    The more poisonous the words thate out of her mouth, the thicker the magic in the air.

    Grrrr...

    As you touch the life force exuded by Seere, you can feel the underlying emotions of Camus.

    Sadness, affection, longing, resentment, anger, and fond longing.

    The emotions she''s been harboring since she was eight years old, the ones she''s tried to erase and hide, the ones that keep sprouting and taking root.

    It''s what she felt after Vikir disappeared, what she felt when she searched the depth day and night for him, what she felt when she thought he was dead and gave up the search, what she felt when she immersed herself in the research to bring him back, what she felt when she turned her back on her mother and uncle and became part of the Dark Hall, and what she felt when she was involved in a horrific ident that cost her half of her body and soul and made a pact with the demon....

    "...."

    Vikir gritted his teeth.

    No matter how hard I try, I can''t do anything about it with the Graduator''s skills.

    Dignity. Even if it means crying, you must be truthful.

    Emotions that I thought had died out in my heart a long time ago were creeping up again.

    ''Did Hugo feel this way too?''

    I had heard that he, too, had lost his wife and daughter before bing a Swordmaster, a superhuman.

    It was hard to imagine what kind of emotions Hugo must have felt then, and to what extent.

    Vikir first took a deep breath.

    Puff, puff, puff!

    Even now, the iron skewers piercing his body, burning hot as hell.

    Seere burned away all of the spider traps that Madame cub had set.

    She frowned at Vikir''s silent suffering.

    [There''s no chance for you to win anyway. You cannot kill this girl.]

    "...."

    Turning to the silent Vikir, Seere made a deal.

    [Alright, then we''ll make a deal.]

    "...?"

    Vikir''s eyes narrowed.

    Seere smirked, thinking that Vikir''s demeanor had changed.

    [Let''s make a deal].

    Her demands were simple.

    [If you release this barrier, I will leave this ce, without killing anyone].

    "...."

    [But if you refuse this offer, you know that, right?]

    Seere smiled broadly with Camus face.

    [The moment all of your mana is used up, I will break this barrier and go out and kill every single child in this academy].

    Seere didn''t seem to be too pleased with the current situation either.

    In other words, no matter how hard you fight here, there is nothing to gain for Seere.

    You have to survive to get your money''s worth, and the demon never makes a losing deal.

    [If you back off, we can all live. You, me, this girl, and all the civilians at the Academy.]

    Seere demanded, as if it were a given.

    But.

    Vikir shook his head again.

    "I don''t make deals with demons."

    [What? You''re going to kill her?]

    "No. I will only kill you."

    [No, this kind of wall window... ... By what means?]

    At Sere''s words, Vikir narrowed her eyes.

    The liquid aura of the Graduator. Surely, something this fluffy can''t cut the cord of Camus''s contract with Seere.

    The Swordmaster''s solid aura. Only something solid like that could cut through that invisible, formless knot.

    At the same time, the thoughts that had been floating around in my head from earlier are organized.

    -To reach the pinnacle of the Sixth Form, you must abandon your emotions.

    -But to open the door to the seventh, you must retain your emotions.

    Vikir didn''t know exactly what feelings he had for Camus now.

    Before the regression, respect for a hero of the Age of Destruction.

    And after returning, I became attached to my childhood friend of the same age.

    ''I wonder if I would have felt the same way if I had a younger sister?''

    There''s a simr, yet subtly different, feeling with his nephew, Pomeranian.

    The feelings that Vikir thought he''d killed were alive and well, rooted and sprouting deep within him.

    And. Vikir is just discovering that feeling.

    [...Now!]

    Seere''s expression suddenly changed.

    The whites and cks of Camus''s eyes instantly regained their original colors.

    She cries out with tears in her eyes.

    Her strength instantly pushed back Seere''s spirit and regained control of her body.

    ...It was only a small amount, though.

    Seere protested as she was pushed backwards.

    [Crazy bitch! How dare you take over my body after 12 hours! This is a breach of contract! Your soul will be destroyed!]

    But Camus was still in control of her body. Despite the pain of her soul being shredded.

    Focusing only on her mouth and hands, she shouted.

    [Do it!]

    Camus''s hands grabbed at the hard bony armor and tore it apart, exposing her neck and chest.

    Soul and spirit shing within a single body.

    It was only natural that a mana surge would ur.

    Seere, floating like a mist behind Camus''s body, cried out in rm.

    [The mana surge ising again! Are you going to suffer through that again? This time you''re going to die!]

    [Vikir! Come on!]

    Camus cried out with her eyes tightly closed.

    Now, indeed, she and her neck and chest are ready to be Vikir''s sheath.

    And.

    "...."

    The moment he swung the red trajectory towards Camus''s neck. Vikir thought.

    ''Make no mistake.''

    Only one chance.

    Even a veteran who had crossed so many lines of fire could not help but be drenched in sweat this time.

    A split second, a terrifyingly short moment.

    Vikir swung his sword with so much thought, anguish, and conflict.

    During that time, the emotions he thought he had killed took root, sprouted, and eventually bore fruit.

    A whirlwind of emotions that burst forth like a flood.

    It violently swept away all the dryness and crackedck that had existed.

    A wall in front of me.

    The wall that was so big and high that nothing seemed to be able to ovee or break down, crumbling away like a sand castle soaked in waves.

    It''s almostical how easy it was.

    At the same time, unprecedented forces that had been blocked behind the wall began to surge in explosively.

    "...! ...! ...! ...!"

    Power surges through my veins. A sense of exaltation, as if he had transcended humanity and be something else, something higher.

    Vikir had only felt this once before.

    Only once before had he felt this way, when he''d beheaded Dantalian under the blessing of Saintess Dolores.

    But there was one difference: there was no saintess here now ....

    There''s just a scarred hound who bared his teeth to save the girl in front of him!

    Next.

    The trajectory of Vikir''s sword''s tip splintered into many different paths.

    The most prominent of them was the seventh tooth,rger and sharper than any of the others, a blood-red trajectory that stretched toward the Camus''s neck in front of him.

    And.

    The sword that cut what could be cut became a knife that could cut what could not be cut.

    Sprout-

    It was a supreme realm.

 Chapter 217: My Neck Will Be Your Sheath (4)

    <h4>Chapter 217: My Neck Will Be Your Sheath (4)</h4>

    All humans live in the world wearing colored sses that do not match the prescription.

    Swordmasters are those who take them off.

    ''Decapitation (Ó�R)''.

    They are beyond the ironman and have attained the status of superhuman, able to see things that ordinary people cannot.

    ''Heart Sword''.

    Capable of cutting through them.

    snip-

    The sword, which had reached the realm of the Supreme, sliced through the air once.

    The seventh tooth cut space in half in a massive trajectory.

    "...!"

    Vikir felt his entire body''s mana increase like an explosion.

    This wasn''t a mana surge. There was a tremendous sense of power and exaltation that washed over him.

    The realization that he''d been living on the edge for so long.

    A sense of liberation that made his former self feel like a worm.

    Only then did Vikir understand the old Hugo.

    The self he''d only discovered after losing what he held dear, and the heights he''d reached in that moment.

    The Swordmaster''s overwhelming power, vision, and mindset, a realm that had long since transcended humanity.

    It''s no wonder all others are considered insects or expendable.

    ... But Vikir was not like Hugo; he could understand him, but not empathize with him.

    Hugo lost the object of his affection the moment he crossed thest wall, and Vikir regained it.

    Quack, quack, quack, quack!

    The sword went through first, followed by the sound about a secondter.

    A terrifying shockwave erupted, clearing away the surrounding ck mist in an instant.

    But.

    ...Boom!

    Surprisingly, Camus, standing in the center of the storm, was unharmed.

    She just fell to the ground like a marite with a broken thread.

    At the same time.

    [Huh!? Shut up!?]

    The scattered ck mist gathered again, forming a sphere.

    Seere. The one who was bound by a contract with Camus.

    But just a moment ago, Vikir''s attack severed her bond with the demon.

    The moment the knot of their souls was severed, Seere broke free from Camus''s body.

    [No, no, no! You can broke the contract with the demon? How could you do that....]

    Seere squeezed thest of her life force together and fell out of Camus''s body.

    But.

    Seven hound''s teeth loomed over it.

    [No! I, I have a great mission to open the gate...!]

    Seere argued why she should live, but it only made Vikir''s reasons for killing her all the more clear.

    ...sh!

    The space within the barrier split into seven pieces.

    A boom like an explosion. A strike faster than a thunderbolt.

    The seven ck thunderbolts that apanied the stormpletely dissolved Seere''s remaining thoughts in the air.

    Pagic-

    Seere was gone, not a scrap of meat, not a soul.

    Vikir stood and thought.

    ''If only time had made Seere a little stronger, it would have been harder to deal with.''

    Demons grow stronger the longer they remain.

    The Eighth Corpse Seere, in particr, with its vast army of dead soldiers, was a foe that only grew more terrifying with time, and it was a tremendous blessing to have found and in it so early.

    Meanwhile.

    Vikir recovered the mask and the ck Bow Anubis.

    The body that has reached the level of master is noticeably different from before.

    His stature had increased dramatically, and his body had be more muscr.

    "...."

    The flower of joy and happiness that he had dried up in order to be an Ironblooded Graduator had blossomed once again after bing a Swordmaster.

    Then.

    Boom!

    A bolt of ck lightning streaked through the air.

    "...!?"

    Vikir turned his head to see Camus''s body fading away.

    A magic circle glowed on the floor, centered on her unconscious body.

    ...Pow!

    Teleportation. A technique for moving a short distance.

    It was Geronto who was moving Camus''s body.

    The moment the teleportation spell was activated, Vikir was troubled.

    Should he reach for his sword and slit Geronto''s throat in front of him?

    "...."

    [....]

    For a brief moment, Vikir and Geronto''s gazes locked.

    "...."

    But in the end, Vikir doesn''t raise his hand.

    In fact, it was decided to let Camus go, whom he had reunited with after a long time.

    Geronto stood still and looked up at Vikir. As if to say thank you.

    Vikir released some of the barrier, and Geronto disappeared, taking Camus with her.

    Pfft.

    And with that, Vikir was alone in the empty barrier.

    ...No, he was not alone.

    [hack-hack-hack-]

    The hatchlingnded on Vikir''s shoulder and nuzzled his cheek.

    Its eyes seemed to ask him why he would let an enemy go.

    Vikir answered briefly.

    "This is my younger sister who cares deeply for my older sister. There must be something going on."

    Geronto hadn''t attacked Vikir when Camus was unconscious before, only acted to protect her.

    Vikir figured that this time she must have her own reasons for wanting to take her away.

    "A ck mage''s healing methods are different from those of a normal person. Potions and healing spells are at odds with the ck mana that flows through a ck mage''s body, so there must be a different treatment....''

    Since the streets of the Academy appeared immediately after walking through the barrier, I had no choice but to hope that Geronto would treat Camus properly.

    * * *

    Meanwhile.

    "...The barrier is gone!"

    Professor Banshee, who was reading the flow of mana around him with his eyes closed, shouted.

    All of the professors and members of the Imperial Guard who had rushed over after receiving the call could not help but panic.

    "Then the Night Hound!"

    "And the unregistered ck mages!"

    "Where did they just disappear to!"

    But even Professor Banshee, the most advanced mage of them all, was unable to discover where this barrier had been established or where it had disappeared to.

    He could only faintly sense that it was there, but missed it.

    A bead of cold sweat rolled down Professor Banshee''s face as he realized he had missed it.

    "A sneaky move, indeed. A level of barrier beyond the grasp of mere humans."

    When Professor Banshee, the Academy''s newest candidate for Vice Principal, says something like that, it''s enough.

    While everyone was stunned, one of them let out a high-pitchedugh.

    "Ho ho ho �C indeed, this is the work of the demon. So artistic, Night Hound."

    Professor Sady. She was giggling, one eye covered by an eye patch.

    Gazes around her sharpen. Professor Banshee spoke up on their behalf.

    "As an imperial professor and advisor to the Imperial Guard, please refrain from saying or doing anything that seems to praise criminals. Professor Sady."

    "Don''t say my name with that mouth, old man."

    Professor Banshee and Professor Sady began to argue again.

    Meanwhile.

    The students look on in bewilderment.

    As the night drew to a close and the festival cooled down, everyone sobered up from the alcohol and the atmosphere.

    "What happened? Why were all the performances canceled? Why was the music turned off?"

    "Didn''t they say some viins attacked?"

    "Oh, no. What''s going on at the academy~"

    "It''s true. That''s why all the professors have just gathered and the Imperial Guard has arrived."

    "Holy shit! The viins that attacked are the Night Hounds!"

    "Crazy! Really! What''s the damage?"

    "... says there''s no damage."

    Everyone is busy shouting.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir were all chattering amongst themselves.

    "Did you see that? Did you see that? That woman in the skull mask was really scary."

    "I''m ashamed to say, but I was too scared to fight her. What the hell was that?"

    "Wow- I thought I was going to pass out from all the heart pounding."

    "The Night Hound was really scary too. Of all the things I''ve ever seen, that was the deadliest."

    "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I almost peed myself just hearing the voices...."

    Then.

    "Seriously. I was so scared I couldn''t breathe."

    A voice creeped into their conversation.

    It was Vikir.

    His friends hadn''t noticed his absence because they hadn''t been in a panic, so they naturally resumed their conversation.

    "Vikir! Where have you been, you man! I was worried about you!"

    "I was in the kitchen at the bar earlier, I''m d you''re okay."

    "A, Vikir, I was so worried! I brought the professors here and looked for you first, but you weren''t there!"

    "Come to think of it, where were you?"

    "You went to fetch the professors too!"

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir each said something as they greeted Vikir.

    Then.

    "...Vikir?"

    There was one being who questioned Vikir.

    Saint Dolores turned to Vikir with a questioning look on her face.

    "I didn''t see you while I was searching these streets, where have you been all this time? With a character of your nature, you couldn''t have hidden or run away, leaving your friends behind."

    Pure curiosity in her eyes.

    There was no way Vikir, who had sacrificed himself for his friends during the midterms, would have run away from this disaster alone.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir''s gazes turn to Vikir once again as Dolores raises a reasonable question.

    "...that."

    Vikir hesitates a moment, about to offer an excuse.

    "Youmoner, you can''t just drop out of the line of defense by yourself, you almost got yourself killed!"

    "You did!"

    "You did!"

    There were three voices that proved Vikir''s alibi.

    Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro. They stood in front of Vikir.

    "He''s a good bowman, but what are we if he gets ahead of us? Don''t go out on the fence first."

    "Don''t show off."

    "Don''t show off."

    A distraction?

    The Baskervilles'' triplets squirmed as if they were trying to grab Vikir by the hair, or maybe by the scruff of the neck.

    Suddenly, Vikir red at them from an angle no one else could see.

    ''Don''t overdo it''

    ''....yes.''

    The triplets gave Vikir a little less attention.

    After that, well, it was the same as before.

    Tudor jumped in to tell them not to bother Vikir, and the Baskerville triplets jumped in at just the right time.

    The professors were busy analyzing the situation.

    It seemed like they wanted to find good material to write a research paper on.

    "Perhaps the Night Hound can only use its powers at night, which is why it fled at first light."

    "Then it could be a vampire type of demon."

    "But who suppressed this situation in the end?"

    "From the witnesses'' statements, it seems that Professor Banshee and Professor Sady had a lot to do with it."

    "Before that... the student council president of the previous batch, Mr. Osiris Les Baskerville, who graduated from the Academy a long time ago, was here! I''m guessing he had something to do with it."

    A rush to judgment. A tacked-on conclusion. Everything was the same as before.

    "...."

    Vikir stood near the intersection of the end of the great event and the beginning of daily life and raised his head.

    The end of dusk. Dawn is breaking in the distance.

    Night passes and morninges.

    Even the darkest darkness is pushed back by the weakest light.

    Vikir had proven it today, and he stood here, alive.

    Standing at the end of the battlefield where he had fought for his life before he was turned back, the thrill of seeing the dawn safely upon him pounded in his heart.

    ...but only one thing.

    ''Will she be okay.''

    I was worried about the missing Camus.

 Chapter 218: That Day, Him and Me (1)

    <h4>Chapter 218: That Day, Him and Me (1)</h4>

    -About three years ago

    In the great mansion of the Morg family, whenever three or more people gathered, they told the story of the day.

    Stories told through the mouths of the maids.

    "Did you hear that?"

    "I heard it."

    "Does anyone else know the rumor?"

    "That you went into the depths of the ck and Red Mountain not long ago."

    "Yes, with a party of mages from Morg and swordsmen from Baskerville."

    "And you said it was to rescue Lady Camus?"

    "Well, she made it back safe and sound."

    "But why didn''t Ms. Camuse out of her room?"

    "She must have been scared, after the horrors of that day."

    However, one of the maids who had gone out to do the expedition''s errands that day has a new testimony.

    "...I heard it was for a different reason."

    Why Camus, after returning from the depths, locked herself in her room and didn''te out for days.

    "It''s because of love."

    "Love?"

    "Yes. On that expedition, a man she''s had a crush on for a long time went missing."

    "What? You mean the one from Baskerville?"

    "That''s right."

    "In the depths of the ck and Red Mountain... if he too had gone missing at night...."

    "Yeah, he''s probably dead. What else could it be? Besides, they say there was a huge monster there."

    "It''s definitely dead."

    "I feel sorry for Ms. Camus."

    The maids were worried about her in their own way.

    "Ms. Camus was always so blunt, but she was always so good to us servants."

    "She needs to eat something. She hasn''t eaten in days."

    "I don''t think she''s been sleeping, I keep hearing her crying."

    "Well, she didn''t seem to be crying today. Is she asleep?"

    "No. I put my ear to the door and listened, and I could faintly hear her crying. She''s probably too hoarse to cry out loud."

    "Oh no. That''s going to change her voice forever."

    "I''m really, really worried."

    "Is this all because of the man from Baskerville?"

    "I don''t know. Ms. Camus was so sweet, I wonder what she''ll doter if she''s already like this at her age."

    "That''s right, if I had Ms. Camus''s face, body, and status, I wouldn''t be tied down to a single man."

    "Really, what kind of man was he for you to fall this hard for?"

    "Whatever man he was, he''s no match for ourdy, eh, she''d better shake it off and get up, what''s a man to... huck!?"

    The three maids gathered in the corner of the corridor and chattered.

    Just then.

    Thest maid to open her mouth, her face turned blue.

    The maids turn their heads to see what''s going on, and then they all turn the same color and shut up.

    The maids'' jaws dropped, because all of a sudden, a man was standing in front of them.

    A man with a long red mustache.

    He was Marquis Morg Adolf, exuding an air of authority over the maids.

    The maids quickly bowed their heads.

    "Im, sorry, Marquis, we were just worried about the youngdy...."

    "You''re right, I didn''t have any ulterior motives!"

    "We were just upset...."

    Normally, Adolf would have paid little attention to the maids.

    But this time was different.

    "Are these the same tongues that go around gossiping about the private lives of those they serve?"

    Adolf snapped his fingers, and the tongues of the three maids darted out of their mouths in unison.

    Aaah!

    Their tongues were soon joined together at the tips.

    "Uh-uh-uh-uh!"

    "Ugh! Ugh!"

    "Eeeeeee...."

    As the tips of their tongues came together, the three maids were forced to stand in a circle, cheek to cheek.

    Adolf clicked his tongue.

    "The virtue of employees is to have a heavy mouth. You guys are busy using your worries as an excuse to spread gossip about your master. Its tongue is as light as a bluebird, so I tried giving it some of my weight."

    The tips of the tongues, once stuck together, would remain so for about a month.

    To survive, you''ll have to lean on someone for water and mashed food.

    Or have the tip of their tongues amputated.

    Adolf then made his way through the corridors to Camus''s room, deep within the manor.

    Before knocking on the door, Adolf listened for a moment to hear what was going on inside.

    Beyond the door, it was eerily silent.

    But a man of Adolf''s strength could hear.

    .... .... .... ....

    A sob, a faint, almost muffled sob.

    It was like a wail of remorse from the grave, the wail of the dead, not yet dead, but buried alive.

    "...Haaaa."

    Adolf sighed heavily as he stood.

    He hesitated a moment longer before knocking on the door.

    Ding-ding-ding.

    A light knock, in contrast to the heavy hand.

    Adolf tried to keep his voice as soft as possible and opened it.

    "Camus, it''s your uncle."

    He waited, but there was no answer.

    With little choice, Adolf opened his mouth once more.

    "I''ming in."

    This time there was no answer.

    Understanding this as permission, Adolf slowly and very carefully opened the door.

    ...

    Adolf stepped into the room and saw a bed in the center of the dimly lit room.

    The nket was sticking out like a tomb.

    Adolf sat down at the head of the bed.

    A small voice came out of the nkets.

    "There is nothing wrong with the maids, please break the spell."

    The words startled Adolf.

    "You, your voice!"

    Adolf carefully pulled back the nket.

    In the lightened darkness, he could see a grim-faced Camus lying there.

    Adolf pulled back the nket a little more.

    It was as if he were removing the cloth covering a corpse.

    "What''s wrong with your voice! Huh?"

    Adolf demanded, and Camus closed her eyes helplessly.

    Then, in a fading voice, she answered.

    "It happened to Rose, and then to Vikir, and it''s all because of me."

    Adolf was silent for a moment.

    He was the type of person who couldn''t say something that wasn''t there, but that didn''t stop him from saying, ''You''re right.'' Because you can''t say, ''It''s because of you.''

    And knowing the nature of his uncle''s character, Camus closes her eyes with a faint smile.

    Anyone could see that the spark of life was dying.

    Adolf was not a consoler, but his love for his nephew was great, so he tried tofort her in this situation.

    "You shouldn''t do that, Camus. Rose and Vikir wouldn''t want that, and you shouldn''t give up like this. Don''t you realize that the weight of your life is even heavier with their share added to it?"

    It is the duty of the living to live up to the dead.

    Adolf spoke sincerely at thismon constion.

    ...but?

    "!"

    Camus''s closed eyes suddenly shed open.

    As if a spring had sprung, Camus sprang to her feet and looked at Adolf.

    "Uncle, what did you say to me?"

    "Eh, eh, It shouldn''t be like that."

    "Then!"

    Camus scolds Adolf in a louder voice.

    Adolf couldn''t remember what he''d just said, so after a moment''s thought, he said something simr.

    "...Do we have to live up to the share of the dead?"

    "Exactly!"

    Camus''s cloudy eyes sparkle with light once again.

    Firewood was thrown on the dying embers once more.

    Camus jumped out of bed.

    Her body, which hadn''t eaten or slept in a while, swayed once.

    Adolf jumped to his feet and helped her up.

    "Camus, what the hell is going on? What happened to you?"

    In response to her uncle''s concern, Camus smiled.

    It was the same smile, full of energy, curiosity, and hope.

    "The living have to live with the dead, don''t they?"

    "Huh?"

    "That''s what your uncle just told you, that you have to live up to the dead man''s share, and that''s why you shouldn''t give up!"

    "Uh-huh, that''s right."

    Adolf nodded quickly, hoping that his constion had worked.

    But Camus seemed to havee to a different conclusion than Adolf had expected.

    "So if the living give back their share, the dead wille back to life, too, because they''ve gotten theirs!"

    "Huh? Is that how it works?"

    "Yes, because the total amount of the share is the same anyway!"

    The heat radiating from Camus''s eyes was now beginning to take on a slightly strange glow.

    "That''s right. The thermodynamic state function of life is the same. Magic is all about how we calcte them, and I suppose we could reverse the calctions and order a bit to get a different result, if we could ess the negative dimension and pull the entropy from there... and rece the quotient from the positive dimension with the remainder in an equivalent exchange form..."

    Hearing his nephew mutter, Adolf knew something was wrong.

    "Camus, wait. What are you thinking...?"

    But before Adolf could stop her, Camus mmed the door open and ran out.

    "Food. Feed me!"

    It took less than a minute for the maids, who had been keeping a close eye on Camus''s behavior, to set the table.

    The Morg''s little lord began to eat.

    It was such a surprise that head of the family Respane, who was in the middle of an important meeting dealing with the Red Fang Castle and the ruby mines, ran over to see the vassals.

    Wah, wah, wah.

    Camus ate her food like a madman.

    Spoon and fork abandoned, she shoved food into her mouth until both cheeks were bursting.

    Suddenly, something caught her eye.

    It was a potato. It was a Morg-bred variety.

    ''You don''t have anything like this at home, do you?''

    Suddenly, Camus''s eyes moistened.

    The moisture in her body, now dried up and seemingly unable toe out, was once again escaping through her eyes.

    She shoved the potatoes into her cheeks until they burst.

    "... Smells like dirt. It''s not working."

    And she swallowed it whole.

    Having consumed all the food on the table in one fell swoop, Camus called out to the maids.

    "Give me more!"

    More, please.

    Respane, pleased that her daughter had begun to eat, brought out more food.

    And Camus devoured them, too.

    "More!"

    As much as you want.

    Raspane instructed her maids again.

    This time, bring enough food for Camus to eat.

    ...and. Camus devoured all the food that was brought to her.

    "More!"

    ...Any amount.

    Respane set the food down, looking a little stern.

    And Camus ate them.

    She threw up, but she ate again.

    She threw up, but she kept shoving them in her mouth.

    "More!"

    ...Now it wasn''t enough.

    Respane tried to stop the gluttonous Camus, but she wouldn''t listen.

    "More! Give me more! I have to eat more, I have to reserve my strength... yuck!"

    Camus ate and vomited, ate and vomited, ate and vomited, ate and vomited, over and over again.

    With tears and madness in her young eyes, neither Respane nor Adolf could say anything.

    Everyone was frozen in front of the table.

    After several rounds of vomiting, when all the food on the table was in her stomach, Camus jumped to her feet.

    She turned to her lord, Respane, her eyes shining.

    "Give me Morg''s military authority. Let me search the forest."

 Chapter 219: That Day, Him and Me (2)

    <h4>Chapter 219: That Day, Him and Me (2)</h4>

    Time is like flowing water, so easily it passes by even if you don''t hold on to it.

    And so it seems all the more swift to those who have nothing to hold on to.

    -The Dark Hall of Morg-

    This ce, always immersed in shadow, takes the form of a tall tower.

    Towers that rise sharply under a gloomy sky where crows fly in flocks.

    And on the highest of them, on the throne of the Great Council, sat a man.

    Skinny and tall, with a sinister aura radiating from his back.

    A grim-looking man with ck hair and ck eyes stared down at the ground below.

    Morg Snake.

    Responsible for the Mage Master Morg''s Dark Hall and considered the third in rank within the family.

    After Morg Respane, the head of the family, and Morg Adolf, the representative of the Light Hall, he is the most powerful man in the House of Morg.

    However, unlike Respane and Adolf, who are close siblings, they had a good friendship, but Snake, who was a bit distant, was different from them.

    And Dark Hall also gives the impression that he is somehow distant within the family, in keeping with Snake''s personality.

    Whatever. The Dark Hall lurks in the shadows, conducting secret research and experiments, and the fruits of theirbor are the spear and shield of the Morg, so Snake, who oversees all things Dark Hall, is clearly indispensable to the Morg.

    "...."

    Such was Snake, now frowning and looking down at the tower.

    There was a girl standing there, looking up at him with a chubby face.

    Morg Camus. A member of the Light Hall and the future owner of Morg House.

    Snake spoke in a low voice.

    " ..., a member of the Light Hall, what are you doing here?"

    There was little reason for a Morg from the Light Hall toe to the Dark Hall.

    Except for the quarterly exchange of skills.

    Even then, it''s only between established practitioners, so there''s even less reason for the recently turned seventeen-year-old Camus toe here.

    But.

    "I left the Light Hall."

    Snake''s eyes widened a little at Camus''s words.

    His eyebrows wiggled at the next words.

    "I wish to join the Order."

    The bombshell. It''s not normal to switch factions.

    Especially not from the position of young master, the man responsible for Morg''s future.

    Snake was dumbfounded and speechless for a moment.

    Only after a long moment did he finally speak.

    "...Why?"

    "Because I''m tired of struggling."

    Camus answered immediately, and Snake fell silent again.

    Snake knew from reports that Camus had been searching the ck Mountain depths for Vikir for years.

    He also knew from reports that Camus had not only been unsessful in his search, but that there had been no small harvest in recent years.

    "...I guess you didn''t find it after all."

    "Yeah."

    Camus nodded coolly, admitting her failure.

    They had spent thest hour frantically searching the depths, but in the end, they hadn''t found Vikir''s remains.

    A bond at age eight. And reunited at fifteen.

    Those few days at the Red Fang Castle were the happiest of Camus''s life.

    She wondered if it would be the same if she were to get married and go through the honeymoon period. At the time, she believed the happiness wouldst a lifetime.

    But it was shattered. Hated by the natives of the jungle! Torn to shreds by a demonic creature!

    Camus gritted her teeth and searched the depths.

    And the more she searched, the more she had to admit.

    Vikir was no more. He was dead. Not even his bones.

    Is that why? Camus had been ckened.

    "I want to learn ck magic and bring him back to life."

    "...How can you do that when you can''t even find his body?"

    "I''m sure his spirit still wanders the Netherworld, or maybe he''s already turned into a ghost. Either way, I n to summon it and bring him back to life. If we can find his remainster, so much the better."

    At that, Snake put a hand to his forehead.

    "Youngdy. You''re taking it too easy to switch factions, aren''t you? You''re going to leave the Light Hall, enter the Dark Hall, and walk the path of the ck Magic. What does this mean....?"

    "It means that I will abandon my mother, my uncle, and all my authority as youngdy, and live in the shadows for the rest of my life."

    Camus cuts off Snake''s words like a knife.

    Snake''s mouth hung half open, at a loss for words.

    His expression doesn''t change as much as his younger cousin Morg Banshee, who is a professor at the Colosseo Academy in the distance, but he seems really surprised this time.

    With a grunt, Snake straightened his posture.

    " ...What on earth do you want from me, Youngdy?"

    "As I said before, I have someone I want to learn ck magic from and bring back to life."

    "At best, you can animate a ghost, or a corpse."

    "I thought there was a way to imbue them with the spirituality of the living."

    "!"

    Snake''s expression twitched once more.

    The kind of ck magic that Camus was talking about was a dangerous kind of ancient ck magic, the kind that required the sacrifice of one''s own life in exchange for a "art ofplete revival" that would bring the dead back to near full life.

    It is, of course, strictly taboo, both in Morg, and in the Empire.

    "... It is not only difficult to learn, but the chances of sess are extremely slim, and even if you seed in saving your victim after ten thousand attempts, there is a high probability that they will corrupt or run amok afterward."

    "The soul of the person I''m trying to save is strong. Once I seed, I don''t have to worry about anything else-if I can seed."

    Camus''s faith was firm and steadfast.

    Seeing the look in her eyes, Snake paused for a moment.

    After a long moment, he cut her off.

    "I refuse."

    A ck folding screen then unfolded, closing the distance between Snake and Camouge.

    A clear sign of good luck.

    But Camus didn''t leave. Instead, she stood there, unmoving, and spoke.

    "Marquis Snake. I know you love my mother."

    Suddenly, the unfolding folding screens stopped.

    Camus turned to Snake on the other side of the folding screen and continued.

    "Love between close rtives is also an affair. You hid in the shadows of the Morg, saying you had no reason to look at the sky. Even now, because of your genius talent, you were forced to be the head of the dark hall, and you still love the head of the family."

    There was no answer.

    Only.

    ...Drrrr!

    The ck folding screens blocking my view were cleared away.

    Snake, his face set in a stern expression, had slid down from his throne and was now standing in front of Camus.

    "Did Adolf tell you that I''m a filthy human being? Did he tell you to go and mock me with those words?"

    But Camus was unfazed.

    "My mother and uncle never told me that, I only knew it from the rumors that circted among the elders."

    "Bullshit. The elders are all old and dead already."

    "The will of the dead. Even the dead talk a lot."

    With that, Camus drew up her mana.

    A ck aura formed behind her, and the spirits of old men with graying beards began to float around.

    They were the ghosts of the elders.

    Seeing that she had already learned to use ck magic, Snake asked in surprise.

    "What is this ck magic! Who taught you this?"

    "I''m self taught."

    "...What, what?"

    Snake was speechless.

    Self-taught ck magic? Was that even possible?

    It''s not an exaggeration to say that she broke new ground by herself. A truly remarkable talent, if true.

    "...I''m not kidding. So it''s true that you''re a once-in-a-hundred-years talent."

    Snake stroked his chin.

    But that didn''t change his demeanor.

    "But that is irrelevant. I cannot allow youngdy to enter the Dark Hall."

    "Is that because you don''t want to offend my mother? Because you still love her?"

    Camus''s retort left Snake momentarily speechless.

    And Camus''s next move was even more baffling.

    She untied her clothes and walked forward.

    Suddenly, all of her clothes fell to the ground and she was naked without a single thread.

    Camus said to Snake

    "I looked just like my mother when she was young. And if I were to take you into my body, would that change the story?"

    She stepped up to stand directly in front of Snake.

    Camus''s eyes glowed with desire, a desire so strong and so hot that it would do anything to reach its goal.

    And Snake''s pupils shake when he sees those eyes.

    " ...Get dressed."

    "...."

    "Get dressed, youngdy."

    Snake turned his head and gestured.

    ...Charak!

    The clothes rose up like a snake and wrapped around Camus''s entire body.

    In front of Camus, who suddenly looked like he was dressed casually.

    "Don''t you ever insult my feelings for her again."

    The Marquis of Morg Snake shook his head.

    For a moment, she stared at him in silence.

    Then her mouth opened.

    "Thank you for the favor. Master."

 Chapter 220: That Day, Him and Me (3)

    <h4>Chapter 220: That Day, Him and Me (3)</h4>

    Morg Snake.

    In addition to being a member of the Morg family, he was also a licensed ck Mage registered with the Imperial Army.

    12-73062191, which was his military number. This meant that he was a soldier with a guaranteed identity and was under the control and surveince of the Empire.

    But even he had a secret ce.

    The basement of the Dark Hall''s headquarters. A deep underground space that stretched for over 600 floors.

    -Level 666 of the Crypt.

    It was a ce beyond the reach of the Empire, beyond the gaze of the Morg, and known only to the delegates of the Dark Hall.

    Walking directly down the spiral staircase that seemed to have no end in sight, Snake spoke to Camus as she followed.

    "Young Lady."

    "Yes. Master."

    "Do you know the origins of the ''Morg''?"

    Snake was still using a distant tone.

    Camus shook her head, saying nothing in response.

    Snake lifted hisntern, illuminating the darkness of the underground.

    "The Morg began as a mortuary, a morgue."

    "...!"

    "It was a small family that specialized in such things, keeping only unidentified corpses."

    "Morgue" is a name for a very old bloodline that has been passed down since before humans established the concept of family or nation. The main job of those who inherited this lineage was collecting unidentified corpses and finding rtives.

    They would collect bodies that had been mutted beyond recognition, find the rtives, hand them over, and getpensated.

    As a result, they naturally found themselves in thepany of the dead, and over time, people who couldmunicate with the dead gradually appeared.

    Whether it was once a power on par with a nation, or decades after its fall, when it was once again called a House of Mage, there was a steady stream of people with this uncanny ability.

    Just like the current camel.

    "So, technically, the Morgue''s origins are very close to the dead. From their earliest beginnings, they spoke to the dead and called upon them."

    "... So you''ve been in touch with the ck magic since birth."

    "Exactly."

    Snake lifted thentern.

    The room was silent and gloomy, like a stone chamber in a deep tomb.

    Even the air was chilly against the skin.

    Snake''s mumbling voice was drowned out by his footsteps, forcing Camus to strain her ears even further.

    "And so it is that the ck Mages of Morg know that the truth that a man can seek and understand in a lifetime is but a handful of sand picked up from the shore."

    "Then where is most truth?"

    "Behind death. Beyond the gates."

    It is only by crossing the gates of death that man bespletely free and eternal.

    The infinite truth behind it can be explored.

    "Knowing this, magical geniuses who have surpassed the limits of human endeavor will eventually turn to ck magic. The more intelligent and aplished they are, the more easily they are swayed by temptation."

    "I suppose I need to familiarize myself with death."

    "No. Before that, you must first be wary of death."

    "?"

    Camus shook her head.

    Then Snake turned to her, a serious look on his face.

    "Remember, Youngdy. A ck mage is the one who has the least regard for death."

    "Why is that, Master?"

    "Because one must first understand and familiarize oneself with life before one can understand and familiarize oneself with death."

    Snake''s words were grim but sincere.

    He turned toward Camus.

    "Life. Feelings for others. Love. Friendship. Trust. Organic rtionship with all that is in the world. Gratitude for being alive. The preciousness of life. Understand these things first, and only then can you truly understand death, for everything is two-sided."

    "Can''t we get acquainted with death first?"

    "That would be like a bunch of drunken fools imitating a ck mage."

    " ...that''s hard."

    "It''s hard, very hard."

    Contrary to popr belief, a true ck mage must be able to love and understand the living more deeply than anyone else.

    It is one who loves all things living and pities all things dying.

    It''s more like an archmage or a saint, as the world calls them.

    ''So this is what it means to be pr opposites.''

    Camus was bing increasingly interested in ck magic.

    Not as a means to an end, but as a pure end in itself.

    * * *

    Some time passed.

    Under Snake''s guidance, Camus gained knowledge at an incredible rate.

    Soon, her skills were beyond recognition.

    ...Pow!

    ck air currents swirled, and a woman with nothing but bones and skin rose from them.

    Morg Rose. She was Camus''s third cousin, who had been killed in battle against the barbarians.

    Camus had used Rose''s remains, found while searching the depths, to turn her into a undead soldier.

    "Rose!"

    Camus and Rose embraced each other.

    Because she had been resurrected by high-level ck magic, she had only a very low level of intelligence.

    Even her magic level was higher than when she was alive.

    Meanwhile, Snake, who was watching the scene from the side, was overwhelmed with admiration.

    "To think that you''ve already been able to create a undead soldier, that''s quite an aplishment."

    How long had it been since she''d turned to the ck Mage?

    It wasn''t an exaggeration to say that Camus had already mastered almost every aspect of ck Magic that humans had discovered.

    The rest was just something she could conquer as she grew older.

    ''Maybe this child will be the one to see the end of the ck magic discovered by humans.''

    Snake thought to himself.

    ... but.

    Camus was looking at something more than just the obviousying down of thew.

    "It''s not good enough."

    She looked sadly at Rose, then shook her head.

    Then she turned to Snake.

    "What I''m looking for is a way to fully revive the dead."

    " ...that''s the realm of humans, and after that, it''s the realm of gods."

    "The distinction between human and god is meaningless in the face of what must be done."

    At the same time, Camus unfolded arge piece of paper in front of Snake.

    It was a drawing of incredibly intricate and detailed shapes.

    Snake''s eyes widened as if they were about to tear apart.

    "What is this?"

    "The Magic Circle of Full Revival. The result of my own research."

    Hearing Camus''s calm words, a chill ran down Snake''s spine.

    It was several steps more advanced than the one that had resurrected Rose just a moment ago. No matter how many times he opened it, it still looked perfect.

    Snake turned his head towards the young genius in front of him.

    A mixture of emotions sprouted in him. Pride, jealousy, fear, affection, and sadness.

    What was he looking for in that face that looked so much like ''her'' from the past?

    Snake has been in and out of the depths of the Abyss of Magic, but he''s never been inside his own mind, so he doesn''t know.

    He could only ask questions.

    "Is a man named Vikir that good?"

    "...."

    Camus didn''t answer. It just nodded slowly.

    Snake nodded as well.

    "Very well, if that''s what you want."

    He hadn''t expected to say the words he''d spoken to ''a woman'' so long ago, when he''d ascended to the Master of the Dark Hall, to her child so many decadester.

    The two genius ck mages put their heads together at the table.

    "Since we have no remains of the person we wish to save, what do you propose to do about that?"

    "We''ve enlisted the cooperation of the Baskervilles to gather some blood and hair. There may also be fragments of his soul mixed in with the unspecified number of spirits we summoned from the depths."

    "I see, if there are fragments of his body, then there will be fragments of his soul as well, so we can sort them out then."

    Not just a corpse that moved at will, but a corpse with memories and a personality.

    No, at that point it was no longer a corpse.

    Snake opened his mouth.

    "Do you know the paradox of ''Ship of Theseus''? Even if he regains his body, memories, and personality, it is a question that needs to be considered."

    "It''s never toote to ponder such existential questions after sess, Master."

    With that, Camus and Snake began to imbue their drinks and ingredients with mana.

    The circle of magic fired up.

    Countlessplex shapes glowed.

    The ingredients at their center.

    35 liters of water, 20 kilograms of carbon, 4 liters of ammonia, 1.5 kilograms of lime, 800 grams of phosphorus, 250 grams of salt, 100 grams of potassium nitrate, 80 grams of sulfur, 7.5 grams of fluorine, 5 grams of iron, 3 grams of silicon, 15 other trace elements, and memories of blood and flesh... All of which began to emit a foul stench, heat, and smoke.

    ...Wait, stench?

    Camus''s expression stiffened for a moment.

    ording to the theory, it was supposed to smell like human flesh at this time.

    But now it smelled like rotting flesh, a horrible stench.

    ''Failure!''

    Camus knew in her gut. She didn''t know what had gone wrong, or how, but she knew the result.

    But there was nothing she could do about the circle that had already been activated.

    Then, from the center of the circle, something strange began to rise.

    ...! ...! ...! ...! ...!

    I couldn''t tell what it was, but at least it wasn''t Vikir.

    That thing must not be allowed to leave the circle.

    Camus gritted her teeth and gathered her mana, trying to catch the spilled water again.

    But it wasn''t enough.

    ...Boom!

    The magic circle shattered and the mana flowed back.

    "Youngdy!"

    Snake''s shout rang in my ears.

    The price of failure is death. What else could it be?

    Camus felt the power of her entire body release.

    She sees a door in front of her. Wide open.

    Camus''s body was being pulled through it of its own ord. Beyond, into a vast abyss of stars and gas clouds. Like dust.

    ''Is this death.''

    Camus surrendered herself to the flowing water with a nk expression.

    She didn''t know why the spell had failed. Was it because the fragments of Vikir''s flesh were too old? Or was his spirit absent from the depths?

    Perhaps he has already turned his back on this world and attained Buddhahood?

    Then I felt pity for myself. The person who remained in this world, suffering and struggling alone.

    Maybe it would be easier to follow him through that gate at this point.

    ... right then.

    Flutter!

    A figure stood in Camus''s way.

    A figure stood in the door, his ck cloak pping. Morg Snake.

    Without looking back, he spoke to Camus.

    "Go back."

    Camus looked up.

    Snake spoke again.

    "Your pic is not over yet, so go back and say it was beautiful."

    Snake took a step without hesitation toward the other side of the door called by the dawn, dew, sunset, and clouds in the abyss.

    ''I hope you be a ck mage who can love life.''

    That was it.

    At the same time.

    ...bang!

    As soon as Snake disappeared beyond the door, it closed.

    He went in and closed the door.

    Poof!

    The abyss stopped pulling Camus in.

    Boom!

    With a loud explosion, Camus rolled across the floor.

    "Cough!"

    Blood spewed from her mouth.

    Camus came to his senses.

    "... Master!?"

    But her head doesn''t turn. His entire body is as stiff as stone.

    Then something came into view.

    It was Snake, sitting on the ground with his eyes closed.

    To my astonishment, his skin, which had been so vibrant just moments before, had turned to dry parchment.

    In an instant, his body was reduced to bone and flesh. All of his life force had been drained.

    "...."

    Camus felt tears well up in her eyes.

    She could see nothing through her cloudy, wet vision.

    Snake was dead.

    He had taken most of the rebound penalty for his mana rampage to keep him alive.

    Camus sobs slightly, remembering all the years she spent learning magic from her master.

    But she couldn''t sob at will.

    Even Snake hadn''t been able to bear the full impact.

    That alone had killed half her brain and half her body.

    She had lost her sister, her lover, and her teacher. Was this the result of turning her back on her mother and uncle?

    She lost all her loved ones around her. She went from the highest to the lowest. A doll who can do nothing but cry and regret the past.

    An underground cave that is now deserted. A tomb so deep and lonely that the only person left in it was a dead girl who hadn''t died yet, sobbing her heart out.

    ... Just then.

    An unidentifiable voice called out.

    [Little girl, why don''t you make a contract with me?]

    It was a temptation as sweet as the first taste of honey.

    She tried to move to see what it was, but her semi-immobilized body wouldn''t budge.

    [I can give you power].

    Instead, it manifested itself into her consciousness.

    A giant hand stretched out toward her.

    [The power to reunite you with your loved ones.]

    It was a hand that the drowning Camus had no choice but to face.

 Chapter 221: That Day, Him and Me (4)

    <h4>Chapter 221: That Day, Him and Me (4)</h4>

    [I can give you power].

    It was a trick of the demon. It was literally a ploy from the demon.

    But Camus couldn''t refuse. She had no other choice.

    Whatever it took to starve to death on a cold stone floor at the bottom of a pitch-ck abyss, she had to make a deal.

    "Okay, what''s the deal?

    [Simple, after you die, I will take over your body, and I will carry out your wishes].

    ''Okay. I''ll do it, contract.''

    [Oh? So soon? You''re a good negotiator. You''re smart. It''s worth watching].

    The demon smiled softly at Camus.

    The demon then revealed her true name.

    [My name is Seere, and by the power of the 8th demon who crossed over from the demon world to the human world, I have made a contract with the human Morg Camus....]

    Seere, the demon. She made a contract with Camus to take over her body after her death and fulfill Camus wishes while she was still alive.

    Camus made the deal before the spark of life she carried was extinguished.

    And now.

    Tsutsutsutsuts...

    The demon Seere inhabited Camus''s body.

    And as soon as Seere took control of Camus''s body, the first thing she did was....

    [Uh!? What is this!? You''re not dead yet!?]

    was to freak out.

    Camus''s eyes narrowed as she felt the other personality inhabiting her body.

    ''Did the Master arrange this?''

    At thest moment, Snake oxidized all the damage that was supposed to be directed at Camus in his embrace.

    The result was that Camus was only half dead.

    ording to the contract, the demon Seere can only im the body after Camus is dead, so in this case, only half of the body would be Seere.

    The demon Seere, now in possession of half of Camus body, began to jump up and down.

    [This is ridiculous! It was a shock she couldn''t have survived! If you''re a human, you should have been dead by now, but how are you still alive!]

    Seere turned and looked at Snake''s body, which was now sitting upright in front of Camus eyes.

    [Aaaah! It''s the mage''s doing, damn it, I should''ve taken what was his, even if it was just a little bit of a physical disparity].

    ''Take away?''

    [Oh, no, I didn''t take it away, I just meant that I should have made a fair contract and taken it.]

    ''Take it away. Did you mean to trick me into taking your body for nothing?''

    [No! It''s not like that...!]

    Seere blurted out.

    Camus ignores it, and pushes herself up.

    It moved. It''s not what it used to be, but her body listens.

    However, her body doesn''t feel quite as bnced as it used to, with Seere controlling one part of her body and Camus controlling the other.

    In the end, Camus and Seere had topromise.

    [Damn, it''s twisted, but it''s twisted tight, so here''s the deal. You use this body for half the day, and I''ll use this body for the other half of the day].

    ''What do I get in return for doing that?''

    [You''re so shameless, you should have been dead and gone by now if it weren''t for me. Oh, shit, I''ll just wait a little longer until you starve to death].

    ''Quick, tell me, what can you do for me in return for me lending you my body.''

    Finally giving in to Camus''s prodding, Seere replied irritably.

    [I have the ability to find hidden treasure, including when it''s human, and I''m good at killing livestock and beasts, which makes me a good match for a ck mage whose job it is to resurrect the dead].

    But Camus didn''t seem too interested in thetter ability.

    ''Good at finding people?''

    That was enough for him.

    And that''s how Camus entered into a two-way contract with Seere.

    They would wake up when each other fell asleep.

    * * *

    Camus then held Snake''s funeral and searched the ck and Red Mountains again.

    However, she had informed Morg that she and Snake would be practicing their closed training together.

    Adolf was worried, but Lespane let it slide.

    ''Sister, Marquis Snake, how can you trust him!''

    ''He is not a man who would do any harm to Camus.''

    ''But the Marquis of Snake is a delegate of the Dark Hall! Besides, we have heard nothing of him as yet!''

    ''...Say no more about it.''

    There was no way anyone could have been more disgusted by the words of Lord Lespane of Morg.

    So, officially, the Marquis of Snake, a delegate of the Dark Hall, and his apprentice, Camus, went into seclusion deep within the family home.

    As time went on, the prying eyes slowly faded away.

    In the meantime, Camus continued to search the jungle alone, with little sess.

    Until, that is, he picked up a strange object from the depths of the forest.

    "... This bone?"

    The bones of a ck mage with a powerful grudge and magic were lying on the ground.

    ''Why is a ck mage of this caliber lying dead here?''

    Camus immediately channeled her mana to create a lich.

    The high-ranking undead named Ahheman became her faithful servant.

    ...A little more time passed.

    It was after several undead pieces she had painstakingly created were lost. Camus, who had been concentrating on searching and researching in the Red and ck Mountains, decided toe out into the world.

    [What? The undead you sent to the city disappeared?]

    Seere was also annoyed.

    [That must have been Dantalian, that bastard. He''s got bad taste in his mouth and likes to take what belongs to others. He must have seen some well-made undead running around the city and stolen them for his own, it''s obvious].

    Seere and Dantalian had crossed over to the human world together, but they didn''t seem to get along very well.

    "I don''t know about the other undead, but we need to get Rose back."

    I felt like I had been out of the world for too long, so I sent them to find out thetest news about the city, which was a problem.

    Camus immediately left the forest and headed for the city.

    On her way to Indulgentia''s orphanage where Dantalian was supposed to be.

    She heard that there was a festival going on at the Colosseo Academy in the distance.

    ''It has nothing to do with me now.''

    Since Vikir''s death, she hadn''t thought about the academy.

    Camus passed the Academy by and headed straight for Indulgentia.

    And then.

    "...!"

    Camus could see the ruins that had been left behind.

    Who could have left Dantalian''sir in this state?

    Camus quickly scanned her mana.

    Fortunately, Rose''s soul and body were here.

    Though it was shattered and scattered, Camus'' powerful ck magic could bring it back to life.

    "Dantalian, you lowly thief. How dare you...."

    Camus pushed the others aside and resurrected only Rose.

    Tsutsutsuts...

    When she had just reimed her third cousin.

    "...Who''s there?"

    Camus sensed something was watching her.

    A figure in ck robes and a gue doctor''s mask.

    An ominous aura radiated from him.

    [Eight Corpse Seere. ''King of the Dead''. You are my copycat].

    An eerie voice modtion came from his mouth.

    Camus shook her head, not sure who was imitating whom.

    "Who are you?"

    [Don''t you know me?]

    "I do not know. Not like you."

    [You don''t seem interested in what''s going on in the world. Don''t you even read the newspaper?]

    Camus snorted lightly at his question.

    "...Newspaper? Why would I read such a thing, I have nothing to lose in this world."

    After Vikir''s death, Camus turned her back on the world, even if it was a family affair.

    Afterward, the mysterious man said.

    [The Demon Kills].

    "If you can, do it."

    It was Camus''s first battle against an opponent of her caliber since bing a ck mage.

    * * *

    "...ugh!?"

    Camus opened his eyes.

    The battle with the Night Hound had been intense.

    His aura, especially at the end, was like the sun, almost blinding.

    "What was that?"

    Camus thought as she ran a hand through her greasy hair.

    The first time the Night Hound had drawn his bow, he had momentarily let go of the leash of reason.

    The barbarian archery that had killed Vikir could never be spared, not after seeing the man who wielded it.

    But as the battle continued, something was off.

    The Night Hound, whom I knew only as an archer, drew his sword and emitted an aura.

    It was too dazzling to see clearly, but I knew I''d seen it before.

    ''What?''

    A million thoughts raced through Camus mind.

    Could it be that Vikir was still alive?

    What if he had survived his grave wounds and found his way into barbarian society, where he healed and learned the art of archery?

    ''Come to think of it, that bow wasn''t even an ordinary bow. It was obviously carved from a spider''s exoskeleton.

    What if Vikir eventually came back to life and took revenge on Madame Eightlegs?

    The fact that he didn''t return once he was healed could be due to something like amnesia.

    ''... Of course, it''s all wishful thinking, but you never know, right?''

    In the first ce, Camus had risked his life on the tenuous hope that she could find Vikir''s remains and bring him back to life.

    There was a possibility that Vikir had been lucky enough to survive that night.

    That he might have been epted as a member of the tribe instead of being killed by savage barbarians.

    He might have learned to be an excellent archer from them.

    The possibility that they had killed the Madame of the Eightlegs, a depths nightmare.

    And the possibility that all these possibilities ovepped and ovepped.

    But that slim chance subconsciously tugged at Camus''s emotions, and even in his stunned state, he forced Rose to track down the Night Hound without killing it.

    "...Okay, I''ll go check it out right away."

    As soon as she recovered, Camus created an underground chamber beneath the ruins that no one knew about.

    In addition, she kept a "life vessel" there, just in case.

    A life vessel was a container of highly concentrated ck mana, a warlock''s second heart.

    Camus had arranged for Rose to be able to teleport here if her life was in danger.

    "Do you understand, Rose? If I copse, you must bring me right here, because that''s the only way I''ll survive."

    Rose nodded slowly as she listened to Camus''s conviction.

    It couldn''t hurt to have the insurance, if only for the sake ofing here in the first ce.

    ''Time to find out.''

    If Seere really did have the ability to ''bring you into contact with those you wish to meet'', then it was worth a shot.

    Camus clenched her teeth.

    She followed the trail of the night hound''s escape to the darkened Imperial City.

    Pow, pow, pow!

    Fireworks lit up the night sky.

    Toward the Colosseo Academy, where a festival was in full swing.

 Chapter 222: That Day, Him and Me (5)

    <h4>Chapter 222: That Day, Him and Me (5)</h4>

    The one who knocks on the door is just a visitor, nothing more.

    It was December. On the floor where dying embers burned shadows.

    I desperately wanted tomorrow toe and tried to forget his death and the sadness that came from it by reading books.

    The man who would forever be nameless in this ce.

    I left the door wide open for any visitors who might be standing outside.

    There was nothing there but darkness, nothing.

    I stared into that darkness for a long time. Puzzling, fearing, doubting, and dreaming dreams no one had ever dared to dream.

    I whispered, "Vikir!" and only the words came back as an echo, "Vikir!"

    Only these words, nothing else.

    As I closed the door, every soul in me on fire, I heard a knock, loud and clear.

    Just the wind, nothing.

    I opened the door, and a raven, pping its wings in a loud flutter, puddleduck! I stepped inside.

    Up, perched, and that was it.

    I smiled sadly and spoke to the solemn bird.

    Its head is shorn and naked, but it is not a coward. Tell me your old and noble name, dreadful raven that wanders the dark shores.

    And the crow said, "Nevermore."

    I spoke again.

    Prophet, wicked one! Tell me, whether in life or in death I shall ever meet again that noble and radiant man whom the gods have named Vikir!

    And the crow said, "Nevermore."

    I was enraged.

    That fiend must go back. To theherworld of night. Without leaving behind a single ck feather, the mark of a liar.

    And the crow said, "Nevermore."

    So the crow never flew, but sat still, still, still.

    Its eyes are like the eyes of a demon dreaming fiendishly, and the light of thentern beneath it casts evil shadows.

    There is no escape for my soul from those shadows cast upon the floor...

    ...for ever.

    -Morg Camus from ��The Raven, Diary of a December��-

    *Quote from Edgar An Poe''s "The Jackdaw"

    * * *

    Camus closed the diary.

    Tucking the journal that contained all her memories under her arm, she set out for the city.

    Her destination was the most famous ce in the entire Imperial Capital, the Colosseo Academy.

    The Academy''s gates were wide open for the Halloween festival, which allowed outsiders to enter.

    The gates of the Colosseo are so high that you have to raise your chin as high as you can to see through them.

    The enormous crowd inside, the lights.

    For a moment, Camus followed their movements with wistful eyes.

    ''If I had lived a normal life, would I be here now?''

    Good men and women her own age, or perhaps slightly older, bustled about.

    Men and women, arm in arm, holding hands, or on the verge of holding hands, were building or decorating booths, doing business, or just enjoying themselves as guests.

    If Camus had grown up normally, she would have been the prodigy of her family by now, growing up to be beautiful, and gaining early admission to the Academy.

    She would have cried andughed with her ssmates, created a festival bar, peddled her wares in the streets, and cooked in the kitchen.

    And her cousin Rose, who probably entered the academy with her or a year or twoter, would be smiling shyly next to her.

    Also next to her, ....

    "''He'' is a good at cooking, so he probably cooked in the kitchen, and then I would take it and serve it to the guests. ...No, he''s handsome, so I''d have to ask him out, and I''d have a hard time because there would be a lot of girls clinging to him. But then again, I wasn''t the kind of girl who could get away with anything."

    Camus smiled bitterly.

    Beside her, Rose, who had be Lich, nodded.

    Then.

    Turning an alley, Camus stopped short at arge mirror in the street.

    She wore a raggedy cloak and a ghoulish skull mask.

    Her reflection was a ghastly sight, no match for the pretty schoolgirls crying,ughing, and enjoying themselves at the festival.

    "...."

    Camus looked away from the mirror for a moment.

    Boom.

    The moment she looked away, the mirror shattered into hundreds of pieces.

    A life of normal birth, normal growth, normal entrance into a good school, normal rise to a high position, normal rtionship with a good man, normal marriage, normal children, normal growing old, normal closing her eyes in the love and respect of everyone.

    You can''t expect that kind of life anymore.

    The life of the gossipy girls at the academy is now apletely different story. A life that would never apply to her.

    Camus thought so.

    And then.

    Pow, pow, pow, pow, pow.

    At the night market that night, amidst the fireworks and cherry blossoms. Camus met the love of her life.

    The one she''d been hoping for. The face she''d never seen, not even in her dreams.

    Vikir. Vikir Van Baskerville.

    He was at the school festival bar.

    "...! ...! ...!"

    Camus doubted her eyes.

    But no matter how hard she squinted, that face definitely belonged to Vikir.

    "...He, did he have a sister?"

    No way.

    I had researched my potential husband''s family history.

    There are no women in his family. No daughters are born.

    Daughters have been scarce in this family ever since the disappearance of their only daughter, Penelope, a long time ago, as if a curse had been ced on them.

    Camus walked forward as if mesmerized.

    She was about to meet the girl. Or at least get a clue.

    Her faint hopes were bing concrete certainties, pointing the way forward.

    Just then, she approached a festival bar with a sign that read, "Newspaper Department Ryukeion."

    [...Who are you, hanging out at someone else''s ce of business?]

    A familiar outfit. The Night Hound stops me in my tracks. Only this time, it was someone else.

    You again.

    Camus was furious.

    The clues she''d barely gotten, the hopes she''d barely gotten, kept getting in the way.

    She hade here to see the man she had loved for so long, and she was prepared to stop at nothing.

    "Get out of the way."

    There would be no second mercy.

    * * *

    And now time has passed again.

    ... Paat!

    Geronto brought the crippled Camus back to their and healed her using the Life Vessel.

    Despite the massive amount of Highly Concentrated Mana Potion flowing into her body, she barely recovered.

    However.

    "...Puha! I almost missed it for real this time."

    She barely managed to cling to her consciousness after being sent to death''s door and back.

    As soon as she woke up, she checked her body.

    "My body has be a rag. But whatever, it doesn''t matter. As long as you have time, you can treat anything."

    More importantly, Vikir was alive.

    "...Yes. He was alive. That''s why I couldn''t meet him. Stupid, why did I think he was dead?"

    I can''t stopughing, even through my bloodied, battered body. I can''t stop the corners of my mouth from turning up.

    "And then I checked his heart at the end, and he couldn''t kill me after all, because he has a heart!"

    Camus can''t fully fathom Vikir''s mind, but Camus can intuit that Vikir crossed a threshold when he was torn between killing her and not killing her.

    It was at that point that Camus took another look at her body.

    Most of the wounds on her body were the result of Seere''s rampage, and none of Vikir''s wounds were on her limbs.

    None of them were fatal, and even those were healing quickly.

    Camus looked at Rose beside her.

    "Didn''t Vikir try to kill me at the end, when I was running away?"

    Nodded.

    Suddenly, Rose''s memory came back to Camus.

    "...It worked."

    Camus smiles wryly.

    When she had first met Vikir as a night hound, she could have killed him, but a strange intuition had kept her from doing so.

    It was the same with Vikir.

    He let the unconscious Camus go, which meant he trusted her and Rose.

    The possibility that Camus could not onlye back to life on her own, but that she could eventually break free of the demon''s grip.

    "...So then, how should we live up to my husband''s expectations?"

    Camus''s eyes suddenly calmed down.

    With her eyes closed, she could see into the depths of her mind, into the abyss.

    There was a high, steep cliff.

    A peak jutted out from the edge of the cliff, and there was someone clinging to the edge.

    [Ouch! Help! Somebody help me!].

    It was Seere.

    Her connection to Camus had been severed by Vikir, and she was pushed to the very bottom of her consciousness.

    She was reduced to the size of an infant.

    Camus had regained nearly 99.99% control of her body, and the parts of her body that had been rendered half-dead were fully restored thanks to Seere''s efforts to repair the damage.

    Most of Seere''s consciousness had been extinguished by Vikir, so very little of Seere''s consciousness remained in Camus''s mind.

    In terms of juice, it was about the amount of juice that would remain on the surface of a ss after it had been poured into it and drained.

    It would be an exaggeration to say there was none.

    Camus asked.

    "Why aren''t youpletely annihted?"

    [That''s because... you broke the 12 hour contract, and that penalty kept me alive a little bit].

    During the fight with Vikir, Camus had vited Seere''s privileges.

    As a result, Seree is currently acting with a little bit of life in her body.

    "Hmph~"

    Camus stood on the cliff and stroked her chin.

    Then the sulking Seere grabbed onto Camus''s toes and begged.

    [Please, please don''t let me go, after all we''ve been through together!]

    She did. Camus spoke in a cold tone.

    "A fearless brat who relied on her talent and her will."

    [...e?]

    "Hohoho-there''s a guy you really want to meet again? What kind of fool risks her life for that?"

    [Uh, uhhh......]

    "If I had a face like this and a body like this, I would never have lived like that, I''d have gotten stronger by beating young males and draining his blood. Ah, life is really difficult in this world."

    [Hic!]

    The things Camus was saying now were the same lines she had said to Vikir when Seere was in 100% control of her body.

    Seere swallowed hard.

    Camus spoke to her in a cold voice.

    "Listen, don''t judge people by your standards. He''s not one of those fishy males, he''s the real deal. Do you understand?"

    [Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!]

    "Yeah. He''s a man worth risking your life for."

    Camus regained full control of her body.

    Seere''s insignificant share, at best, would be enough to make her itch like a mosquito bite for about a second, once a day.

    Camus. She was once again the master of her own life.

    A master who hasplete control over her body and soul. The queen of Red and ck Mountain.

    "Get down."

    In her consciousness, hermand is absolute.

    Seere cried out in her diminished form.

    [...hiing].

    And just like that, Seere had surrendered all of her power and strength to Camus.

    It was the moment when a bteral contract turned into a one-sided master-servant rtionship.

    The ck mage gained demonic powers.

    Camos smirked as she held the ever-smaller Seere on her fingertips.

    "Your prophecy was correct, for you did lead me to him after all."

    Vikir hade to Camus in the course of a demon hunter''s search for a demon, but the prophecy had been fulfilled anyway.

    Climbing gingerly onto Camus''s finger, Seere looked up and asked.

    [Hey, what are we going to do now?]

    "Well. Should we open the gate?"

    [Zee, seriously!? Are you really going to do that?]

    "You''re kidding. Am I crazy?"

    Seere visibly frowns at Camus''s words.

    Camus smiles brightly.

    "The world can''t end now. As long as he''s alive and I am alive."

    [...So what are you going to do now?]

    "I''m going to heal my broken body for a while. Someone''s been messing with it."

    [Meh, sorry, I didn''t mean to do that....]

    Under Camus''s gaze, Seerepletely shrank.

    She was sweating so profusely that it was like looking at a piece of butter thrown onto a hot pan.

    Camus was really starting to think about what to do next.

    "There are many things I need to prepare to be a good bride, and I''ll start one by one as I recover."

    [Bri, bride? Get married?]

    "Then I have to do it. After all this trouble, what if I meet him again and he''s already gone?"

    [You love him that much?]

    Seere asked in disbelief, and Camus nodded emphatically.

    "Yes. I love him so much."

    So much so that I want to be next to him, even if he''s dead.

    Or that she wanted to be next to him even if she was dead.

    A man who has to kill a woman to prevent the end of the world. And a woman who doesn''t care if the world ends as long as she can be with him.

    In the end, theye to a dramatic conclusion. One where no one has to be unhappy, and everyone can be happy.

    "For now, I must return to Morg. Highsis, Midsis, and Lowsis, those thundering sisters, must be thrilled that I''m gone. I must go get them back in line."

    I can already see how happy my sisters will be to see me.

    Only then was Camus able to smile with a yful smile appropriate for his age.

    "I''ll say hi to my mom, and visit my uncle... and again."

    Suddenly, her expression grew heavy.

    Morg Snake.

    She had to announce his death to the world.

    What a noble and holy sacrifice he had made, and he needed to be given a funeral worthy of it.

    "First and foremost, it is imperative that I carry on my master''s work."

    It was necessary to take full control of the Dark Hall, which had fallen into disarray during Snake''s long absence.

    Representative. Camus had formed the idea in her mind that she would seed her master as head of the Dark Hall.

    The death of Snake, who had ruled the Dark Hall for decades, would trigger another election of Representative and a nasty power struggle.

    Into the mix woulde Camus, who has been in hiding for the past few years due to her training.

    Once again, she is a ck mage with demonic powers.

    A being who has fully absorbed the power of Seere, the Great Demon King of Bones and Corpses, who can kill livestock and bring them back to life.

    "Once I''vepletely conquered the Dark Hall, I''ll be a Representative and rise to the same rank as Uncle Adolf."

    It would be quite a task, but Camus was confident.

    In fact, no matter what I do, it will be much easier than bringing the dead back to life.

    And then again....

    Camus looked up.

    In the distance, far, far away, she could see the night sky of the Imperial Capital.

    The ce with the sharp spire and high walls is the ''Colosseo Academy.''

    Finally, Camus''s mouth opened.

    "When I get in, I''ll be in ss 21."

    A junior one grade lower.

    But she was confident nheless.

    "The day Ie back, I''ll be...."

    Camus''s eyes glowed ck.

    She looked to Vikir in the distance, her voice full of confidence.

    "You are mine."

    It was a possessive desire so strong that even the Demon King Seere shivered for a moment.

 Chapter 223: Tuition (1)

    <h4>Chapter 223: Tuition (1)</h4>

    The Festival is over.

    But even after the festival was over, the excitement remained like a residual fire, making the students feel strangely excited.

    The students were still talking about the events of the festival whenever they got together in groups of three or more.

    "Did you hear, he''s dating that girl in hot ss A and she''s dating that girl in cold ss B."

    "Wow, I was wondering when they were going to get together. I guess it''s finally happening."

    "They confessed during the fireworks at night during the festival. Wow."

    "Huh? That new couple in Hot ss B broke up that day?"

    "Huh! The chicken CC broke up? That''s a bit of a shock."

    "The moment someone gets together, someone breaks up... Youth is a strange thing."

    Everyone is talking about who confessed to whom, who flirted with whom, who fell in love with whom, who fought with whom, who broke up with whom, and... love y is the hottest topic because it is a ce where teenagers and 20s gather.

    In addition, rumors of who got drunk, fought, threw up, lied, or took a leave of absence were slowly spreading.

    ... But the hottest topic was this.

    "By the way, is it true that the Night Hound came to the Academy during the festival?"

    "Uh-huh. They said he tried toe back and terrorize us again. Creepy."

    "But the professors stopped him!"

    "That''s really scary. What''s with the Imperial Guard? They don''t take down viins like that fast enough."

    "That''s right. He should be in the ''Nouvelle Vague'' prison, for a viin like that."

    "But from what I''ve seen, the Night Hound is really, really strong."

    "And I hear there''s a new viin on the scene this time, an unregistered ck mage?"

    "But I heard they fought two of them, which is why the professors were easily dispatched."

    "Too bad. It would have been better if we could have arrested them."

    Students who don''t know anything about it just talk about it in a cheerful tone.

    The "Night Hound Incident," which could have turned into a horrific disaster in the wrong hands, seems to have faded into nothing more than spooky gossip.

    ....

    ... But here''s one student who can''t let it pass as urban legend.

    "Guys."

    Dolores, the student council president, shouted, throwing open the door to the newspaper department.

    "Who wrote this article!"

    She asked, sounding more than a little annoyed.

    In Dolores''s hand was a copy of an article that had not yet been published.

    [Exclusive] The Night Hound, on its viciousness...

    -The Night Hound''s misdeeds have crossed the line. On the 0th ofst month, the Night Hound attacked the Academy, which could be said to be the future of the Empire... ... The young sprouts who will be responsible for the future of the empire must be protected... ... The actions aimed at this are inhumane and anti-national... ... He is a viin who must be punished... ... Meanwhile, the number of major facilities in the Imperial Capital destroyed by the night hounds during the festival was the Imperial Imperial Bank, the Imperial Clock Tower, Indulgentia Orphanage, Imperial Cemetery, etc...

    A scathing article condemning the Night Hounds.

    Dolores swallowed hard at her anger.

    "The Night Hound didn''te to the festival and cause any disturbances, the disturbances were caused by that mysterious ck mage. This article makes it sound as if the Night Hound came to the festival and massacred the students. He''s a criminal as defined by the Empire, but at least he didn''t do anything at the festival that day, so you should take the emotion out of your article and just list the facts... After that, never mind. So who wrote this article?"

    The entire newspaper staff, including Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, Sinir, and others, were silent.

    But they were all honest about their eye contact.

    "...."

    "...."

    "...."

    "...."

    "...."

    All eyes were on the same ce.

    That was where Vikir was.

    Dolores sighed.

    "Vikir. It''s you again."

    A child who consistently writes articles criticizing the night hounds as to why anyone would hold a grudge against it.

    There''s nothing wrong with criticizing a criminal the Empire has dered evil.

    Vikir simply replies in his characteristically emotionless tone.

    "The article was written under the direction of my club advisor, Professor Banshee."

    "Then why did you write it when I wasn''t around..."

    "Ms. Dolores, weren''t you busy with student council affairs throughout the festival season, and I just happened to have the time during that period to write an article in the direction of my advisor, Professor Banshee."

    In a way, he had a point.

    Dolores sighed softly.

    "It''s official from the Imperial Guard this morning: it''s not the Night Hound who''s been responsible for the recent raids on the festivals and the destruction of the city''s major facilities."

    Eyes widened at the words.

    Dolores continued.

    "ording to the captain of the guard, the Night Hound''s primary weapon is a knife. However, there are very few stab wounds at recent terrorist sites, but...."

    Dolores showed me some mana screenshots.

    Ruined clock towers, banks, and mansions.

    All that remained were marks, as if a giant snake had crawled across them.

    " ... These are not marks that can be made with a knife, so the culprit is a different viin altogether."

    The Imperial Guard had identified a viin other than the Night Hound.

    It was named "Ms. Uroboros," a vicious terrorist of unknown purpose.

    "Female, presumed gender, unknown purpose of attack, unknown motive, but generally believed to be Graduator ss. We don''t even know what weapon she''s using, because all the witnesses are dead."

    The entire ss shuddered slightly at the introduction of a new viin.

    If you were a Graduator, you could expect to be favored wherever you traveled in the Empire. They were the pinnacle of martial arts.

    If such an existence had an evil heart andmitted an act of terrorism against an unspecified number of people, how great would the repercussions be?

    I can''t even imagine the amount of blood that would be shed.

    The Night Hound, an unregistered ck mage, and now Miss Uroboros.

    With three fearsome viins on the loose, the people of the Imperial Capital must not be able to sleep at night.

    Dolores was adamant about this fact.

    "So, in the future, don''t me all evil deeds on the Night Hounds alone. I''m not taking sides, I''m just presenting the facts. There are three viins, shouldn''t there be a clear distinction between the crimesmitted by each?"

    Everyone nodded at her words. There was nothing wrong with that.

    Vikir nodded as well.

    ''...It doesn''t really matter.''

    Vikir''s criticism of the Night Hound was based on the fact that he might one day find himself in a situation where he was suspected of being a Night Hound.

    And if he did, it would be easier to avoid suspicion if he maintained his long-standing criticism of the Night Hound.

    Meanwhile.

    While Vikir was distracted, the conversation among the newspaper staff took a different turn.

    "What is this ''Miss Uroboros'' viin, anyway?"

    "We don''t know what she looks like, what her primary weapon is, or what her purpose is."

    "The only thing we do know is that it leaves tracks that look like a giant snake crawled across it."

    "The other thing is that it seems to follow the ces where the Night Hound has been spotted."

    "Certainly, judging by the route it took, it seems to want to meet the Night Hound. Is there a grudge?"

    "But she''s noting to the Academy? That''s where the Night Hound wasst seen."

    "Ugh, I hope not. If nothing else, it''s made the professors more vignt, so I''m sure she won''te now."

    "...How did they know it was a woman?"

    "They found high-heeled boot prints around the area. There were also lipstick marks on an abandoned vodka bottle."

    "Is it possible that it''s just a guy who enjoys high heels and lipstick?"

    "Of course it''s possible. It''s not umon these days."

    Ms. Uroboros. A mysterious terrorist bent on sabotaging the Empire''s major infrastructure.

    Vikir was already aware of her existence, thanks to the information Sindiwendy had given him.

    ''She''s after me.''

    Why would she be chasing the Night Hound?

    Whether it was out of admiration, resentment, or curiosity, Vikir didn''t care.

    As long as she didn''t get in the way of the demon hunt.

    It could be said that I am more interested in the fingers and knitting needles that are currently moving diligently.

    Meanwhile.

    Sinir, next to him, admired Vikir''s knitting.

    "Wow, you''re really good at knitting, aren''t you?"

    No wonder. After all, no one wants to keep a tornbat uniform from a war.

    Vikir felt the need to make the masks even stronger after this incident, so he was in the process of re-crafting the masks, cloaks, and robes from the Cerberus pelts he had captured so long ago.

    I''m using only the toughest, strongest parts of Cerberus'' hide, so they won''t tear again.

    Of course, what he was sewing now were the useless scraps of Cerberus'' hides.

    Vikir was gathering these pieces and making a scarf.

    "I''ve made a scarf as a test, but I don''t need it. Do you want it?"

    Vikir held out a scarf made of Cerberus'' hide to his friends.

    It was highly resistant to fire and poison.

    But Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir don''t recognize the wonders of the hide, and they all shake their heads.

    "Ugh. What is that. It''s crusty and smelly."

    "I don''t like the smell."

    "It''s also really heavy."

    "No one should be wearing that!"

    "Brother, ... this is not cool."

    Then Vikir nodded.

    "I know. It''s kind of hard to eat."

    ????

    Question marks appeared over the heads of the friends, one for each of them.

    Sinir stammered.

    "Brother, did you eat this?"

    Vikir remained silent, only nodding slightly.

    An age of destruction, a desperate fight for survival, when you had to eat anything to stay alive.

    ''...The battle to the death at Tochka Fortress back then was so desperate.''

    During the Battle of Tochka, when we were surrounded in deep trenches and had to survive for days on end.

    There was nothing to eat, so I had to boil and chew my leather army boots, and that''s when I first got to know the taste of Cerberus'' hide.

    "It tasted like rotten fish dried in the strong sunlight and dipped in spoiled milk."

    Hearing Vikir''s statement, all of his friends silently covered their mouths with their hands.

    Just then.

    "Hey, Vikir, there''s a letter for you!"

    One of the seniors waves at Vikir from the window.

    A letter was ced in an envelope and handed to Vikir.

    It was not only for Vikir, but also for Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir.

    "Is this ...?"

    Vikir tore open the envelope and pulled out what was inside.

    The writing read

    <First semester tuition payment notice

    -Name: Vikir

    -University: Colosseo

    -Faculty: Cold Warrior

    -Department: Archery Department

    -ss: ss B

    -School number: 20

    -Year: 1

    -Semester: 1

    -ssification: Tuition (A)

    -Tuition fee: ... G

    .

    .

    It was something that some students would pass over without thinking about, but for others, it would be a terrifying reminder.

 Chapter 224: Tuition (2)

    <h4>Chapter 224: Tuition (2)</h4>

    It''s tuition season at Colosseo Academy.

    "Hey. Did you pay your tuition?"

    "Tuition? Is there such a thing at our school?"

    "I think I paid it yesterday when the butler came by."

    "I seem to remember paying for four years at once when I got in."

    "How am I supposed to study when I have to worry about that?"

    Most of the time, this season passes without even knowing if it''sing or going, but....

    "What can I do. My father couldn''t find money for tuition this semester."

    " ...should I take a break from school?"

    "Haa, this isn''t a part-time job."

    "Am I going to have to worry about this for all four years?"

    For some students, anxiety was written all over their faces.

    The academy''s tuition is so significant that it can be a burden not only formoners but also for nobles if their families are small.

    Even at Colosseo Academy, where admission is as difficult as picking a star in the sky, it''s a bitter reality that there are always a few students who take a break or drop out at this time of year.

    That''s why Vikir is now thinking.

    ''I guess I didn''t get a full schrship after all.''

    His attitude score was so bad that he didn''t get a full schrship.

    However, about 80% of the schrships were merit-based, so the amount of money wasn''t too much to ask for.

    This was made possible by an unexpected and unasked-for letter of rmendation from Professor Banshee.

    ''... Hung. I don''t know.''

    When Vikir went to thank him, Professor Banshee didn''t even look up from his book, just snorted.

    Whatever.

    ''But even so, since I decided not to get help from the Baskervilles or Sindiwendy, I''m still going to have to find the money for tuition.''

    The reason Vikir hadn''t insisted on bringing in outside money was simple.

    The demons would track it back. It is to prevent that.

    In order to raise military funds, you must decide on a method of money transaction, the most popr being a borrowed-name ount or cash hiding.

    Vikir has seen too many hunting dogs lose their lives due to being traced back by the enemy or betrayed by intermediary contacts in the process of raising military funds.

    "Unless it''s absolutely necessary, it''s best to keep your contacts to a minimum, especially those funding streams that can be stepped on first.''

    The best way to hide something is to make sure it doesn''t exist in the first ce.

    So Vikir had no financial contact with either Baskerville or Sindiwendy.

    In case one day he really needed the "big bucks".

    "Professor Banshee wrote me a letter of rmendation for a schrship, so I''ll just have to make up the rest."

    Vikir muttered as he fiddled with his tuition bill.

    Essentially, the most optimal way to raise military funds is to raise military funds directly in the field.

    "I need to look for a high-paying, short-term part-time job."

    Vikir stepped into the central lobby of the lecture hall.

    On the walls of the za on the first floor, there were numerous posters, some of which were obviously looking for part-time jobs.

    High school students were already gathered in front of the bulletin board looking for part-time jobs.

    Then.

    Vikir spotted a familiar face.

    Sinir, a white-haired girl.

    She was staring at the advertisements on the board.

    "Hmm. There''s a month and a half until tuition is due... ... Should I increase my part-time job? What I''m doing right now is tutoring, part-time work at a cafe, and librarianship... ... Should I take another tutoring ss when I have some free time on the weekend? No, that doesn''t mean I can reduce my volunteer work hours."

    Sinir is one of the highest-performing first-year students in the Hot ss. She works a part-time job to make time for her studies.

    ...and she''s also taking a few sses!

    She''s even volunteering, which makes other students think she''s a freak.

    But Vikir was also going above and beyond, even if it wasn''t visible.

    Every night, he goes out and assassinates people who will be enemies of the Human Coalition in the future.

    But assassinations cost money, and it doesn''t make money.

    Furthermore, Vikir has a nasty habit of collecting all of his targets'' ill-gotten gains and secretly dropping them off at orphanages and other institutions.

    He had been doing this ever since he met and separated from Nymphet before Dantalian.

    As such, there was very little wealth in Vikir''s possession at the moment. At best, enough to buy supplies for next week''s ss?

    He would have to find a part-time job anyway.

    "...."

    Vikir stood a little distance away so as not to disturb Sinir.

    He read through the numerous flyers that covered the bulletin board, one by one.

    "What a bunch of crap."

    Ignoring most of the advertisements, Vikir continued to scan the board until he found a short-term job that seemed perfect for him.

    It was a part-time job that involved killing monsters with bounties on them and selling their byproducts.

    This type of part-time work is usually done through hunting guilds or mercenary guilds, and you can go to the guilds and give or receive requests, or even ask them to dispatch workers if you want.

    Depending on the nature, type, and power of the guild, you could hire warriors, mages, and other mercenaries, as well as hunters, alchemists, cooks, cksmiths, and other supportive professions, and even guides and porters.

    A structure in which you can be a client, carry out someone else''s request, hire a separate mercenary, or be a mercenary yourself.

    In other words, a guild is basically arge form ofbor.

    Of course, it is a bit unusual that the price is clearly defined in the form of ''money''.

    The students of the Colosseo Academy are generally skilled enough to be employed by various mercenaries. The hunting guilds weed them, but the academy students didn''t have to work with them.

    Unless, like Vikir, they needed a quick paycheck.

    * * *

    When Vikir returned to his dormitory after all his errands, he found Tudor and Sancho in his room.

    They were tutoring Piggy in a subject he wascking in.

    "So, here''s a reminder of the administrative definition of settlement: a fiscal year''s ie and expenditures are summarized in definitive coefficients... and the imperial family must submit an Imperial Settlement Report to the Senate, which is inspected by the Auditor General... and the head of each of the Seven Great Houses prepares a settlement report of their funds for each fiscal year, which is consolidated into the Central Office Settlement Report...."

    "Hmmm. I''ll never get used to administration."

    "I think information science is more difficult. I guess I''m not cut out for a desk job."

    Tudor and Sancho were impressed with Piggy''s administrative, clerical, and information analysis and synthesis skills.

    What''s more, Piggy is a good teacher, able to exin the professor''s words in a way that would have been iprehensible to a cancer patient.

    So Tudor, Sancho, and Piggy put their heads together and focused on their studies.

    It was a win-win situation, with each of them helping the other in practical and written work.

    Vikir walked into the room.

    "Sorry to interrupt your study, guys. I''ll just grab my coat and head out."

    Tudor, Sancho, and Piggy turned their heads in delight.

    "Oh, Vikir, you''re just in time! You''re a good student too, aren''t you? Help us out! This time, please, we need to beat Bianca and that little bastard...!"

    "Come on Vikir, I need to avoid failing next week''s written exam right now! I want to break the stereotype that I''m just a big guy and not smart...!"

    "I have a lot of issues I''d like to discuss with you, Vikir! Justst week''s note test alone, we had a multiple choice controversy on thest multiple choice question...!"

    But Vikir shook his head firmly.

    Right now, he was more concerned about paying his tuition than next week''s quiz.

    "I have to go out to earn money."

    Vikir briefly exined his situation, and his friends looked stunned.

    Tudor stroked his chin.

    "I thought you were so good at school and so skilled that you must be the scion of a noble family with a hidden identity, or that your parents weremoners but with great wealth. If you''re so desperate for tuition, I''ll pay it for you, my friend! What''s wrong with being a friend? We have plenty of money!"

    Of course, Vikir declined. It was a matter of money.

    Thest thing he needed was to get his tail stepped on by the demon, only to have Tudor spark a firestorm.

    Vikir shook his head, and Tudor gave him a disapproving look.

    "What? Why? If you can''t afford it, you can pay it back slowly! Maybe they''ll ask you to join our family after graduation? If that''s the case, you don''t have to worry about it. You know I''m not a formal person like that! Well, my sister''s been begging me to bring you home for a visit during vacation so she can introduce you, but it''s not about that!"

    Sancho and Piggy exined Vikir''s situation to Tudor.

    "We''ve been taught that it''s not good for money to go directly between friends, no matter how close, because it''s a matter of pride."

    "That''s true, Tudor. I''m sure Vikir would really appreciate your thoughtfulness."

    The normally reticent Vikir nodded once in Tudor''s direction, and suddenly Tudor''s expression brightened again.

    "So. How are you going toe up with the money? We can mock it up together, is that okay?"

    "Uhm. I have an idea."

    Tudor''s ears perked up at Vikir''s answer, as did Sancho and Piggy.

    To his grateful friends, Vikir asked briefly.

    "Do you know of a hunting guild that is good for short runs?"

 Chapter 225: Tuition (3)

    <h4>Chapter 225: Tuition (3)</h4>

    The Hunter''s Guild "Sherpa," an outsourced dispatcher of hunters and guides for monster hunting.

    This guild was not known for its mercenaries, but it was known for having many guides who were familiar with the ecology and geography of monsters.

    These guides, all of whom were native to the area for at least three generations, knew the ins and outs of where rare monsters lurked and swarmed.

    Not to mention they know all the shortcuts and stealthy escape routes.

    However, with only a few sses avable to send out, such as guides and porters, guilds have always been at a disadvantage.

    This is because they''re often treated unfairly, with no credit for their work and reduced pay at the end of the quest.

    However.

    The presence of the Sherpa Guild''s leader has been a constant source of support for the guild''s members, even in these difficult times.

    kkigigigig-

    The guild gates opened.

    The guild members who were practicing in the training center looked back at the front door of the guild office and shouted in unison.

    "The Guild Leader ising to work!"

    "Attention! Salute!"

    "Good morning!"

    A man whomanded the respect of all the guild members.

    He stood at least 2 meters tall and 30 centimeters wide, and weighed close to 180 kilograms.

    A tightly cropped sporting haircut, scars running horizontally and vertically across his face, heavy armor-like muscles covering his entire body, and even the martial arts skills on the graduator.

    The name of this man, who looks like a huge beast of prey, is ''Miniature Pinscher'', also known as ''Minpin''!

    How many people could punch outbor costs based on his appearance?

    As long as Minpin reigns supreme as Guild Leader, the Sherpa Guild will continue to survive, as he is both terrifying in appearance and terrifying in skill.

    He''s even known to be relentless when ites to training his guild members, as he''s a strict meritocrat.

    "The more you sweat in training, the less you bleed in battle!"

    Minpin''s thunderous words made the guildsmen in the barracks stiffen once more.

    It was all thanks to him that the Sherpa Guild''s porters and guides were armed with the physical and mental strength of steel.

    What''s more, Minpin''s rank was Graduator. He could be a member of any of the top mercenary guilds.

    Even the Imperial Army was sending scouts to train him as an officer.

    But Minifin had rejected all of these offers.

    ''I love hunting. Fighting monsters is my calling.''

    These were Minpin''s beliefs.

    There was a small part of him that hoped to one day join the Baskervilles on the Western Front, but that was out of the question, as they wouldn''t be the first to send him a scouting offer.

    So Minpin''s main goal is to preserve and protect his current guild.

    "And to do that, I need to keep my employers in check."

    Minpin walked into his office and scanned through the new requests.

    "Let''s see, this is a request for a courier from another mercenary guild. They want to capture a Venompion for research... but they have too few people. If we get involved, the couriers will die. Dismissed. Is this a request for directions to a merchant? Hmm, but the mercenaries escorting them are too underpowered. We may lose them. Dismiss this one...."

    We do not ept requests from strangers.

    I''ve weeded out nearly 90% of their requests.

    Minpin clicked his tongue.

    " ... I wonder how many of them will be alive next year."

    There were too many who didn''t know their ce and wanted to y powerful monsters.

    Attaching porters or guides to such creatures would almost always result in their annihtion.

    "They are weaker and slower to escape, so they are the first to be used as shields in a crisis, and we cannot afford to lose members of our own guild."

    So Minpin interviewed and thoroughly weeded out weak or reckless clients.

    Only clients with a mercenary que or mercenary credentials, or who have served in the military, are epted, and those with lesser credentials are rejected, no matter how insignificant.

    ... This is exactly what happened.

    "What, an academy student, even a first year?"

    Minpin reviewed thest request in front of him.

    A neer to the Academy had requested to hire a guide.

    <Request

    Name: Vikir

    Affiliation: Colosseo Academy

    Request: Hire a guide

    Purpose: Defeating monsters

    Students from the academy don''t usually visit ces like this. They''re all rich kids, after all.

    However, every once in a while, an oddball wille here, mostly out of mere curiosity and a desire to experience the low life.

    And for the hunting guilds, if they allowed themselves to be entertained by the children of the rich, they would lose some of their most valued members, some of whom had been with them for decades.

    "Hmph. What''s an Academy young master doing in a ce like this? Did he feel like having some fun?"

    It doesn''t even say what monsters you''ll be hunting. He just wanted to hire a guide.

    Of course, it wasn''t even worth thinking about.

    Minpin crumpled up the request and tossed it in the trash.

    "Give him a ss of milk and send him on his way. You little brat, you think this quest is for kids?"

    Minpin shrugged off Vikir''s request.

    ....

    ...And that was the beginning of all the tragedies that followed that night.

    * * *

    The night. A moonless night.

    Mr. Minpin returned home from his night shift.

    When he got home, he found his bunny like wife and bear like child already asleep in bed.

    Passing through the living room and into the kitchen, Minpin was hungry and rummaged through the storage room. He was going to boil some potatoes for ate-night snack.

    Then.

    Minpin spotted the midnight meal on the kitchen table.

    There were eggs, bacon, and toasted cornbread. It was cold, but it still looked delicious.

    "... honey."

    Minpin muttered softly as he looked over at his sleeping wife.

    He was always grateful and sorry for her, for all the trouble he''d put her through when she was younger, for the daughter he''d never done anything for, but who was growing up so well.

    "Just be patient. One day, I''ll solve a big client and treat you well."

    Minpin went into the bedroom, determined to work even harder as the head of the household.

    My wife seems to have fallen asleep while putting my daughter to sleep, so today I have therge bed to myself.

    Eventually, when Minpin put on his arm pillow and closed his eyes.

    A rustle.

    A small noise starteding from the second floor window of the bedroom.

    "...What is that?"

    Minpin yawned and stretched.

    Then he saw a silhouette crash through the window.

    A man in a ck mask opened a second-floor window and stepped inside.

    Minpin''s heart sank.

    He must be a burr because he doesn''t have a knife in his hand.

    But he''s really an unlucky burr.

    "Even if you doe in...."

    The Guildmaster of the Sherpa Guild, the leader of all the guides, a man with a rank of Graduator, and even the imperial army and prominent mercenary guilds send him love calls, so why would hee to rob his house?

    "I guess I''ll have to take some care of it. After subduing him, should I report to Tyler and discipline him, or should I hand him over to the Imperial Guard?"

    In fact, Minpin had done this a few times.

    He''d scolded thieves who''d climbed over the fence out of hunger and turned them into siblings and subordinates.

    So this time, after listening to their excuses foring in to steal after being subdued, he was willing to look the other way.

    "Hey, hey, hey. Wait, stop there. If you surrender now, I might let you off the hook...."

    However, it was Minpin who really had his eyes closed.

    Boom!

    The ck-d man threw a fist with lightning speed.

    It grazed the tip of Minpin''s ear, severing a few strands of hair before shooting off to the side.

    As Minpin gulped it down, a hole appeared in the wall next to him.

    ...Boom!

    A fist-shaped hole was punched into the wall made of solid wood.

    "This is a warning."

    An eerie voice emanated from the masked man''s mouth.

    A cold bead of sweat trickled down Minpin''s spine.

    ''If I got hit....''

    If that fist had hit him straight in the face, his skull would have shattered like a grain of sand.

    A level beyond human strength. Does he use mana? It doesn''t make sense otherwise.

    "You! How dare you think you know who I am!"

    Minpin realized that this was no ordinary opponent and immediately raised his mana.

    Minpin''s fist pulsed with the whitish energy of a low-grade Graduator, something between gas and liquid.

    But.

    ...snap.

    His opponent raised his fist as well. Surprisingly, his fist didn''t contain a single handful of mana.

    Only then did Minpin realize that the opponent''s fist that had flown out just a moment ago had been driven by pure muscle power.

    ''What kind of strength....''

    A chill ran down my spine. If his body could exude such power without using mana, what would happen if he did use mana?

    ''I''m d he''s not using mana.''

    It had been years since I had shuddered at the pure physical power of another.

    Minpin breathes a sigh of relief.

    Pfft!

    To his surprise, the intruder''s two fists began to erupt with mana.

    ...!?

    But Minpin''s surprise was short-lived.

    Bam!

    This is because my memory was cut off from the moment I thought the other person''s fist was flying under my chin.

 Chapter 226: Tuition (4)

    <h4>Chapter 226: Tuition (4)</h4>

    The next day.

    Minpin opened his eyes.

    "...Is this a dream?

    But it couldn''t be.

    He woke up face-down on the cold floor, and his jaw was swollen shut.

    There was nothing but a nket covering him.

    Suddenly, an ominous intuition shed through his mind.

    "Oh, no, honey, baby girl!"

    Minpin kicked the floor and ran down the stairs to the second floor.

    But.

    "Are you up?"

    "Daddy, good morning!"

    Minpin was greeted by his wife and daughter, both in good spirits.

    "...?"

    Minpin looked dazed.

    The fire was warm in the firece, and sweet potatoes, potatoes, and corn were cooking.

    The kitchen was bubbling and smelling like chicken stew.

    Flower petals floated in the teacups, and outside the window, whiteundry was drying in the sun and wind.

    "?"

    Minpin was dumbfounded by the way everything looked.

    His wife and daughter''s attitude toward him was no different than usual.

    The house was no different from yesterday.

    "Why were you sleeping on the floor? You''re so heavy, I couldn''t even move you. What''s wrong with your sleeping habits?"

    "Uh, uh, me on the floor?"

    "Yeah. You were sleeping soundly on the floor. I woke you up a few times, but you didn''t wake up, so I just put a nket over you. Is your neck stiff?"

    She ps Minpin on the back.

    "Uh, no. Did everything go wellst night? Did a burr get in?"

    "What? A burr? How can I hear something like that when you''re here? Some big guy with a big liver...."

    "Oh, no. I had a bad dream."

    "Ew, that''s because you sleep in a weird position! By the way, get the sweet potatoes and corn out of the firece �C they should be ready. Oh, and leave the potatoes, I put them in a littlete!"

    His wife didn''t know what to say.

    Minpin sat down at the table and ate his wife''s breakfast in disbelief.

    Then, as usual, he left the house on time and headed for the guild office.

    The streets were just as normal and routine as ever.

    Neighbors greeting me as I left the fence, subordinates bowing to me on my way to work.

    "...Was this a dream?"

    But no.

    My jaw was definitely knocked out and the hole in the wooden wall was still there.

    So some crazy person broke into the house, punched Minpin in the jaw, and left.

    He didn''t even rob anything!

    "What the hell was he doing?"

    Minpin shook his head in disbelief.

    He vowed to be extra careful with the door tonight.

    * * *

    That night.

    Lying in bed, Minpin closed his eyes only when he saw that his wife was safely asleep.

    Bushluck.

    If only it hadn''t been for another small noise from the window.

    "Whoa, no way!"

    Minpin looked to the window.

    The madman from yesterday was standing there again.

    The intruder had picked the lock and stepped over the threshold without a sound.

    He was even crumpling a piece of paper in his hand, deliberately making noise to show off his ghostly presence.

    Rushing- Rushing-

    The scene is so eerie that it sends chills down your spine.

    "... won''t let me this time."

    Minpin had hidden his favorite sword under his bedside table, just in case.

    Sigh.

    It''s a good thing my wife is the type of person who won''t notice if I go to bed with her once she''s asleep.

    For this great sword unleashes terrifying lethal force just by being pulled out of its sheath.

    "Die!"

    Minpin charged at the intruder, swinging his greatsword.

    But.

    No.

    The unthinkable happened.

    The Graduator''s aura, spinning at high speed and cutting through everything in its path, intercepted the greatsword.

    And with the intruder''s bare hands!

    Kwagigigig! Pow! Pow! Pow!

    Gradualtor''s sword and aura were blocked. It was even crumbling into pieces by the second.

    ''This is no way...!''

    Minpin was horrified at what was happening in front of him.

    But even his astonishment was not enough.

    Puck!

    Another fist to the jaw cut off his consciousness.

    * * *

    "You''ve been a bad sleepertely, haven''t you?"

    His wife asks him nonchntly when he wakes up in the morning.

    "...."

    Minpin woke up this morning still on the floor, unable to answer.

    What can I say, he''s been knocked out repeatedly by nightly intruders.

    It''s a heartbreaking story that he can''t tell not only to his wife, but also to his friends, colleagues, and subordinates.

    ''I can''t do this. I''ll have to call the Imperial Guard tonight.

    For the first time in his life, he leans on the power of the authorities.

    Minpin prepared to leave for work, making an important decision.

    * * *

    The night passed, and the next morning.

    "Mr. Minpin. Is your report urate?"

    An investigator from the Imperial Guard asked, rubbing his sleepy eyes.

    Minpin had no answer.

    The intruder did notest night.

    The Imperial Guard investigators looked up at Minpin''s massive body and said.

    "Common sense dictates that no burr could rob Mr. Minpin''s house."

    "Besides, to be able to capture a Graduator-ss aura with just bare hands, what kind of vain... would someone with such skill be doing as a thief in the first ce?"

    "You said you haven''t held a grudge against anyone recently. Hmm, after all, it''s stalking driven by passion?"

    "Whatever. We''re not exactly idle either, so we''re not going to be able to stand guard all night."

    "Well, it''s a bit of a stretch to call it a substitute, but I''ll be sure to patrol this area a bit more in the future, so goodbye."

    In the end, Minpin had to bow his head a few times to dismiss the investigators of the Imperial Guard.

    * * *

    And bizarrely, that night.

    Bushluck-.

    An intruder came to visit.

    "Aaahhhh, you bastard, what do you think you''re doing!"

    Minpin, wearing two helmets, ran out swinging the sword in both hands, and the result was the same as usual.

    Puck-puck!

    The two helmets shattered, and so did the two swords.

    Minpin was stunned by another punch to the jaw.

    * * *

    The next day, too.

    And the day after that.

    And the day after that.

    The midnight visits continued.

    When morning dawned and it was clear that nothing had been stolen from his house this time, Minpin sat down on the couch in the guild office with a sinking feeling.

    He had already sent his wife and daughter to live with rtives, just in case,

    From that day forward, Minpin became a man afraid of the night.

    How could he not be scared when some madman kept climbing through his window, hitting him once and then disappearing?

    It was a very effective and violent natural sleeping pill.

    "I''ve been suffering from stressful insomniately, is... some new fad insomnia treatment?

    Of course not.

    But I can''t mention this to the guild leader, so I just groan.

    "If I told the Imperial Guard, I''d beughed at. Ha, that clever bastard. You onlye after me when I''m alone, so what''s this...."

    Who in the world would believe that a man over six feet tall was constantly stalking and assaulting me?

    For the first time in his life, Minpin could only feel frustrated.

    Just then.

    "Guildmaster. Your request has arrived."

    The adjutant waved a stack of papers in front of him.

    There were fewer this time. Only one sheet.

    Minpin narrowed his eyes.

    "It''s the off-season and we still get requests?"

    "Uh, yeah. They''ve been sending me statements for days. It''s the same person every time."

    Then.

    Minpin realized something was wrong.

    Each time, the new statement was in bad shape.

    It must have been written on new paper, and it was badly wrinkled.

    "What''s wrong? Isn''t this a new order? Why is it crumpled?"

    "I don''t know, he alwayses in and leaves with a crumpled one. He''s a student at the academy I told you about."

    "... Academy? Who is that?"

    "You know who it is, a young man from the Colosseo. The one the guild leader sent back with a ss of milk."

    "Ah~"

    I suddenly remember. I remembered the outrageous client who came and chased me away.

    "Whatever. I have no intention of joining in the fun of the rich and famous...."

    This time, Minpin didn''t think much of it and just crumpled it up.

    Bushluck.

    At that moment.

    Minpin stiffened as if struck by lightning.

    He''d heard that crumpling sound before.

    "...!?"

    Minpin quickly moved his hands, unfolded the request form he had just crumpled, and crumpled it again.

    Bushluck.

    This paper is made of a special material, so its crinkling sound is slightly different from other papers.

    It was definitely the unpleasant noise of a nighttime intruder.

    So why was the request form, which he always crumpled up and threw in the trash in his office, back here?

    Minpin looked back at the adjutant and stammered.

    "Are you, are you... cleaning my room these days?"

    "What? Yes, I do, all the time."

    "And the trash can in your room, do you empty it?"

    "I haven''t emptied it, because it''s always empty."

    The adjutant''s words shocked Minpin.

    He''d thrown the request form in the guild office trash a few days ago.

    "Then...."

    Some lunatic sends a request and then picks it up from the trash and puts it back again and again.

    And it''s been raiding in the night, fumbling with it!

    "What the hell, what kind of crazy person does this...!"

    Minpin''s face turned blue as he opened the request fully.

    <Request Form

    Name: Vikir

    Affiliation: Colosseo Academy

    Request: Hire a guide

    Purpose: Defeating monsters

    The paper is crumpled and barely recognizable.

    Minpin is staring at it with a nk expression.

    "...When?"

    An unfamiliar voice came from behind the adjutant.

    Behind the adjutant who was expressing his disapproval that he was not allowed toe in here, Minpin had a nk expression on his face.

    ''This is a warning.''

    A first-year student at Colosseo Academy. Vikir.

    "Do you feel like taking on a request now?"

    He was speaking in the same voice as the intruder fromst night.

 Chapter 227: Tuition (5)

    <h4>Chapter 227: Tuition (5)</h4>

    A night with a bright moon.

    Vikir silently stepped out into the wilderness of the Imperial City.

    Beside him, Minpin drove the carriage.

    "It''s me, Mr. .... What monster are you trying to catch?"

    Minpin had gotten a taste of Vikir''s power and temper, and was treating him with great caution.

    That was why he had personally responded to Vikir''s request for a guide.

    He knew that if he offended the madman, he would lose a valuable member of his guild.

    But Vikir didn''t care much for Minpin''s intentions.

    "Considering that I''m a student at the academy, it''s not too strange that I caught so many of them."

    "Aha."

    Minpin nodded at Vikir''s words.

    Certainly, Vikir''s strength was far beyond that of a normal academy student.

    ''Where did this monstere from?''

    Minpin let out a small sigh.

    Meanwhile. Vikir was thinking about something else.

    ''...Minpin, this is one of the people I need to have on my side.''

    He''s one of the best guides, one of the heroes who contributed so much to the Allied Forces of Humanity during the Age of Destruction.

    Most of the monster encyclopedias that Vikir knows of were created by him, andter, the research field called ''monster ecogeography'' was also founded based on his research.

    However, Minpin died early in the war against the demons because he had no background to fall back on.

    A wild man who belonged nowhere. What does that mean?

    ''The person who picks it up first is the owner.''

    In this life, Minpin''s life will be much longer.

    He''ll have the Baskervilles behind him, who will one day be swallowed up by Vikir.

    ''...Although I did reveal some of my power because I was nning to reap it as a vassal.''

    Vikir briefly tested Minpin, who wouldter rise to the ranks of heroes and soon be his confidant.

    "What monsters do you know that would be suitable for a student to catch and still provide a decent ie?"

    "Hmm. The only monster that''s not too strong and provides a decent ie... is Gnoll."

    Gnoll. A grotesque creature with the head of a hyena and the body of a dwarf.

    They are lowly creatures that walk on two legs and are covered in filthy fur and stink.

    They inhabit the high mountains outside the Capital in packs, and their burrows are so deep underground that they cause the ground to copse.

    Not only do they get in the way of civil engineering projects, but they also attack workers, making them increasingly dangerous.

    Minpin was indeed very knowledgeable about monsters.

    He generously shared his knowledge of gnolls with Vikir.

    "Gnolls are weak inbat, so even a first-year academy student can capture many of them. Their fur is surprisingly tough and hard, and they''re also good at keeping warm, so they''re often used as rugs and covers. Their bones and organs can also be sold for medicinal purposes."

    "But selling them isn''t as good as catching one of those powerful big monsters, is it?"

    "You don''t understand! Gnolls are an ecosystem disrupter, as defined by the Imperial Family. There''s a bounty for simply killing them."

    Well, that''s a different story.

    Not only does killing them bring in a certain amount of bounty per animal, but if you can sell their hides, meat, and bones, you can kill two birds with one stone and make a decent ie.

    "So. How do you catch gnolls?"

    "Hmm. Gnolls have a habit of collecting shiny objects. When encountered, it''s mostmon to dazzle and kill them by scattering ss or something like that...."

    But Vikir shook his head.

    "That''s only for the few gnolls you encounter."

    "Yes, I suppose that''s true."

    "I will use another method."

    "...?"

    Vikir''s chosen method was simple.

    "Gnolls are drawn to the fresh blood of a freshly killed animal. They have a great sense of smell, and they can smell it from miles away."

    "That''s right, how do you know that so well, do they teach that in the academy these days?"

    Minpin looked quite surprised, for what Vikir had just said was something only experienced hunters would know.

    They are the first to swarm and coil around a wounded, blood-scented prey.

    Like sharks in the ocean, they y a role onnd.

    Vikir caught a boar, cut open its throat, and dragged its carcass from ce to ce.

    Its blood soaks into the soil, its fishy smell wafting across the forest on the night breeze.

    Vikir roamed the mountains, smearing the boar''s fur and blood on the ground.

    Of course, Minpin, who had to follow, was horrified.

    "You''re provoking the gnolls! It''s suicidal! They''re only a C+ danger individually, but in a group, they''re up to an A!"

    The sight of all the gnolls within a few kilometers swarming toward this ce would be a sight any hunter would hate to see.

    But Vikir merely nods with a nonchnt expression.

    "Don''t worry. I''ll just lure them in and hide."

    Minpin is slightly relieved.

    "Ah, hiding, that''s good to hear. Certainly, they''re less focused when they''re eating, and if there''s apetition for food among the herd, the weaker ones will surely be left behind, which will make it easier for us to pick out the easier ones to hunt. Then we can catch them one by one as they fall to the back of the pack...."

    Vikir''s next words, however, made Minpin flinch once more.

    "No, we''re chasing the lead. We will follow them wherever they lead their prey."

    "What? Why is that...."

    "To locate the main pack''s dens."

    Vikir was targeting not one or two gnolls, not a pack, but an entire colony.

    Gnoll hunting at the colony level, something not even the Empire''s marauding armies could do.

    Minpin''s mouth dropped halfway open at the ease with which Vikir brought it up.

    "Why, why would you go to such lengths...?"

    And then, to Minpin, Vikir said something short.

    "It''s good to make money."

    * * *

    Then a group of gnolls came and tore apart the boar''s carcass.

    They cut open the boar''s belly and scraped out the still-hot, steaming entrails, then dragged the rest of the carcass down a low path through the underbrush.

    Vikir and Minpin followed quietly behind.

    Soon, they came upon arge earthen cave hidden in a low hillside.

    Minpin climbed onto a high branch and looked around.

    ''Do you really think this will work?''

    But the scene in front of them proved once again that Vikir''s n was hopeless.

    Swarms of gnolls.

    Minpin was horrified at the sheer number of gnolls roaming around.

    "Boss. I think this is a bit much. The swarm is quiterge. All of the gnolls that have been causing trouble in the Imperial Capital have gathered here. If we mess with this ce, they''ll flood the nearby viges."

    Monster Wave.

    If you make a mistake, there is a high possibility that you will end upmitting the mistake of overthrowing.

    But.

    "We should look for other entrances to this cave."

    Vikir remained nonchnt.

    Within a few hours, Vikir had found several other entrances that he believed connected to the first one.

    Minpin was impressed with Vikir''s skillful search, but he still had no idea what to do with all these gnolls.

    Then.

    Vikir loaded up on mana and mmed his fist into the dirt wall.

    ...Boom, boom, boom!

    The piles of dried earth that made up the cliff copsed, blocking the entrance to several private burrows.

    Vikirughed bitterly, remembering popping champagne sses at the club.

    "Now move to the topmost cave."

    Minpin did as he was told and drove the carriage toward the topmost entrance.

    Boom!

    A few of the gnolls leapt out to y, only to be decapitated by Minpin''s greatsword.

    "Mr. Boss. What are you going to do now... huck!?"

    Minpin swallowed hard.

    Vikir pulled out all the items he had loaded into the wagon.

    It was oil.

    With all the money he had left, Vikir had bought all the waste oil that the Academy had been hoarding to throw away when it reached its expiration date, and now he was pouring it into the very top of the gnoll''s den.

    Gurgling, gurgling, gurgling...

    The bluish oil, squeezed from the sabik berries, thickens in the den.

    Kungkung-

    Grrrr...

    Hmm?

    From the bottom of the cave, the sounds of chattering rang out.

    A few gnolls rise to the top of the cave, only to be sent back down by Minpin''s greatsword.

    When dozens of barrels were empty, Vikir kicked all the remaining barrels down into the den.

    And then.

    Grumble!

    He tossed the torch he was carrying into the depths as well.

    ...BOOM!

    A loud booming sound.

    At the same time, the sabic tree oil, which is highly mmable and has a low boiling point, began to heat up with a loud noise.

    Washishishishisik- jijijik-popjik!

    The sound of the oil frying the gnolls that hadn''t yet escaped the den.

    The boiling oil continues to flow down the hole, and the gnolls below are fried alive, unable to escape.

    Crackle!

    Kaeng!

    Chiiiing...

    The gnolls in the upper tier are fried in oil, and even the gnolls in the middle tier are choking on soot and dying.

    The gnolls in the lower levels scramble to escape, leaving the bodies of theirrades behind.

    However, the entrances to most of the tunnels are already blocked by piles of earth, and suffocation is inevitable.

    Oxygen concentration drops rapidly, and smoke and odor rise.

    The air also heated up rapidly, and the survivors steamed to death at the entrances of the blocked tunnels.

    "...! ...! ...! ...!"

    Minpin could only agape.

    He''d never seen anyone hunt colony monsters like this before.

    However, Vikir remained calm under the circumstances.

    "This kind of loud tactic works well to scare away monsters with low intelligence."

    In fact, pouring boiling oil over the entrance of the upper level cavern was more of a performance.

    In reality, it couldn''t cause that much damage.

    The real purpose is to frighten and confuse the prey.

    ...Udeug! ...Ppudeudeug!

    The burned gnolls are terrified and scramble to the bottom of the cave.

    Younger and smaller gnolls and older and slower gnolls are trampled to death by their peers.

    It''s also not umon for mates to bite each other to death as they try to get through the narrow tunnel first.

    When the pack is disrupted, only the strongest and fastest survive.

    And those who survived ran towards the entrance of the cave on the lowest level.

    "...Come out now."

    Toward where thest hound''s eyes shone.

 Chapter 228: Tuition (6)

    <h4>Chapter 228: Tuition (6)</h4>

    There was chaos in the forest that had been quiet just a moment ago.

    ppajijijijig! ppusisisisig! wasasasasasa...

    The screams of frying gnolls tore through the night sky.

    The foul stench of burning wild beasts wafted out of the den.

    Even those who had barely survived were covered in hot oil.

    [Grrrr! Grrrr!]

    [Crackle!]

    [Gah!]

    The gnolls scrambled out of the den in agony, each baring their teeth and nails.

    The wounded beast''s vision is narrowed. That means it can''t see anything.

    Although it was only a C+ ranked monster, the killing power it unleashed while struggling wasparable to that of a higher rank monster.

    However.

    ...Poof!

    All of its viciousness was meaningless in Vikir''s hands.

    A crude iron skewer quickly pierced the gnoll''s neck.

    [Huh?]

    The gnoll who was justing out of the cave felt a stinging sensation on the side of his neck, but he was so helpless that he ran straight ahead without even thinking about looking to the side.

    But of course, he couldn''t take more than a few steps before his neck was punctured and he stumbled to a halt.

    Thud.

    A fountain of red blood gushes from his neck, and for a few seconds, the gnoll lies motionless, blurry-eyed and breathless.

    Vikir stays close to the side of the cave, continuing to stab the gnolls in the neck as they leap out of the cave.

    ...pug! ...pug! ...pug! ...pug! ...pug! ...pug! ...pug! ...pug! ...pug! ...pug! ...pug! ...pug! ...pug! ...pug! ...pug! ...pug! ...pug! ...pug! ...pug! ...pug! ...pug! ...pug! ...pug! ...pug! ...pug! ...pug! ...pug! ...pug! ...pug! ...pug! ...pug! ...pug! ...pug! ...pug! ...pug! ...pug!

    There''s not much to stab. Just once. I strain my arm, extend it, withdraw it.

    Every time the iron skewer monotonously moves back and forth, the gnolls that jump out of the cave fall down and pile up in front.

    Soon, every single one of the gnolls that jumped out of the cave turned into cold corpses and piled up in the empty space in front of the cave.

    Vikir roughly wiped the blood from his face and ran a hand through his hair.

    "Looks like we''re done here."

    A grisly scene of ughter.

    Minpin couldn''t help but cluck his tongue as he watched the killing spree unfold with such skill and precision.

    " ...What in the world are you doing?"

    "What, you''ve never seen someone catch a gnoll before?"

    "Of course, it''s my first time seeing you. Where is the person who catches gnolls like this?"

    By the time Minpin had finished speaking, more than a dozen gnolls had been flipped out of the den.

    Minpin collected the bodies of the gnolls that kept piling up in a certain spot and loaded them into the cart.

    There were so many of them that the cart would never be able to carry them. They would have to ask the local government or guild to help them.

    And even now, Vikir was waiting by the den.

    Dipping a skewer in and out of the throats of leaping gnolls with lightning dexterity.

    Just then.

    [grrrr...]

    An unpleasant sound came from the den.

    As soon as Minpin heard it, she called out.

    "Gah, Mr. Boss! Dodge! There''s something elseing!"

    Next thing you know, something big pops out of the hole.

    It was a gnoll, three timesrger than a normal gnoll, but unusually, it had ck-green fur all over its body.

    Its fur was needle-sharp, and sticky oil dripped from its bloodshot eyes like tears.

    Minpin cried out in horror.

    "It''s a poison gnoll, a variant of gnolls! It''s ranked A in danger, and its strength and speed are dozens of times that of normal gnolls! Plus, its teeth, nails, and fur have a poisonous venom that can drive a person insane...!"

    But there was no time for exnations. The poison gnoll suddenly burst out, smashing through the narrow cave entrance.

    "Eiss!"

    Minpin raised his greatsword and rushed toward Vikir.

    He hoped to buy his client time to duck for cover.

    But.

    [Aang!]

    A cloud of dust fell from above, stopping Minpin''s life-threatening lunge in its tracks.

    "...?"

    Minpin froze in ce, dumbfounded.

    That''s because this small lump that looked like a butterfly that fell from the sky immediately rushed to the Poison Gnoll in front of it as soon as it hit the ground.

    And what''s even more amazing is that as soon as the vicious Poison Gnoll was bitten on the nape of the neck by the tiny speck of dust, it immediately rolled its eyes, foamed at the mouth, and fainted.

    [Grrrrr!]

    Poison Gnoll rolled over on its back, spewing whatever was inside of it out of its mouth and anus, and then stretched outpletely.

    "Huh?"

    Minpin looked back and forth between Vikir''s and Poison Gnoll''s corpses, dumbfounded.

    What kind of monster was a Poison Gnoll? Once it appears, a small vige in the mountains is wiped out for the day.

    A named monster that even a few small and medium-sized hunting guilds couldn''t defeat with all their might.

    It even travels around with its minions, sorge guilds must mobilize their elite forces to take it down.

    ... but.

    "Well done,e back."

    Vikir waved his hand, and the dust balls quickly jumped up and crawled into the hem of Vikir''s sleeve.

    [hack-hack-hack-]

    The hatchling stuck out its tongue and gave him a look that seemed to ask for praise.

    Meanwhile.

    Minpin was just blinking as if he couldn''t believe that the small furball in front of him, which he couldn''t even tell was a living thing, had killed the poison gnoll in one bite(?).

    "Haha, I thought these past few days at the hands of my boss were a nightmare... but now it''s more like a dream, is this even possible?"

    "It''s real, just think about the reward money and the sale price of the byproducts."

    Minpin nodded at Vikir''s naturalmand.

    And Minpin had to hold his tongue as he counted the gnoll and poison gnoll corpses piled up in front of him.

    "If you count the ones that died in the den, the number must be staggering, and I''m afraid I can''t even begin to count them; we''ll have to go out to the big city and get them appraised by several experts."

    "If there''s a reward per head, we''ll have to get all the bodies."

    "Yes. The ones that were choked to death or had their throats slit can be skinned and sold, and the ones that were fried in oil should be fine to sell for their bones, but I''ll have to go inter, when the heat in the den has cooled down."

    The gnolls'' den was still burning hot, so Vikir and Minpin sat outside the den for a while, collecting the gnoll corpses.

    During this time, a few surviving gnolls sometimes crawled out on notice and were sorted out at the cub madam line.

    Eventually, when the heat in the den had cooled down enough, Minpin grabbed a torch and crawled inside.

    As he dug, he made small incremental steps forward, until he saw an amazing sight in the depths of the tunnel.

    "Sah, boss, you have to see this for yourself!"

    Hearing Minpin''s exmation, Vikir followed suit.

    What awaited them inside was quite unexpected, even for the ever-calm Vikir.

    A gold coin. Piles and piles of gold coins, dipped in oil and glowing with golden light.

    In the flickering light of the torches, they cast eerie lights and shadows on both sides.

    It''s fitting that a man would freeze when suddenly exposed to so much wealth.

    " ... What''s all this?"

    Minpin looked back at Vikir with a slightly frightened expression.

    But Vikir remained nonchnt.

    "Apparently, someone''s been using this ce as a safe."

    "What? That''s a safe... ah!"

    Minpin eximed, then gasped.

    As I''ve said before, gnolls have a habit of collecting shiny things and hoarding them in their burrows.

    It was possible that someone had taken advantage of this behavior and was storing ck money here.

    "With so many gnolls, it would be hard for anyone to steal it. They''re natural safekeepers."

    "Ha, but what kind of big man would keep his money in a gnoll''s nest?"

    "I don''t know. But at least one thing is certain."

    At Vikir''s words, Minpin tilts his head, puzzled.

    Then his face turns white at Vikir''s next words.

    "He must be confident enough to kill all these gnolls and retrieve the gold."

    Someone who could kill all the gnolls in this ce as easily as opening a vault door.

    What''s more, this is arge enough colony that even poison gnolls are lurking.

    "...."

    Minpin shuddered slightly as he looked at the gold coins in front of him.

    A huge pile of gold coins.

    Rattling-

    Vikir picked up a gold coin lying randomly on the dirt floor.

    "... No serial number."

    A gold coin without a serial number yet.

    This means that it is an unregistered coin that has been created in a currency-producing country but has not yet been officially distributed to banks.

    "Bourgeois Damian, the director of the Department of Money Manufacturing, enacted aw requiring unique serial numbers to be engraved on banknotes and coins. It looks like these coins were stolen before thew was enacted, or just before serial numbers were engraved."

    "Are you saying that these are all the result of a bank robbery?"

    "That doesn''t exin it."

    Vikir thought about whether there had been any recent articles about banks being robbed.

    ... There was. There had been.

    A being is said to have been destroying major facilities in the Imperial Capital as ofte.

    [Exclusive] The Night Hound, and its viciousness...

    -The Night Hound''s evil deeds have crossed the line... The Night Hound''s assault on the Academy was... anti-human and anti-national... Meanwhile, the Night Hound''s destruction of key facilities in the system during the festivities was... The Imperial Bank...

    Vikir remembered the article well, as it was written by Vikir himself.

    The viin had recently raided the Imperial Bank and stripped it of all its riches.

    A mysterious terrorist who mimicked the crimes of the Night Hound, only tomit even greater crimes.

    A name pops into Vikir''s head.

    "...!"

    It casts an ominous shadow over reality.

    Vikir and Minpin quickly scrambled out of the cave, and something long andrge fell in front of them.

    Kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa-kwak!

    Vikir stumbled back from the sudden explosion.

    When the dust settled, he saw a long, winding scar on the ground.

    It looked as if a giant snake had slithered across it.

    It was a mark made by the strange man who was currently standing on a bare tree branch and looking down.

    [Hohohoho �C rats crawled into my piggy bank?]

    A modted high-pitched voice is heard through the air hole in the mouth of the mask.

    The color drains from Minpin''s face as he hears the voice.

    He looked even more horrified than when he''d seen countless gnolls.

    "Mi-Miss Ouroboros!"

    He encountered the worst viin who was terrorizing the night of the Imperial Capital.

 Chapter 229: Tuition (7)

    <h4>Chapter 229: Tuition (7)</h4>

    "Vi, Mr. Vikir. That woman... is probably ''the one''."

    Minpin, a skilled Graduator, was trembling slightly. This indicates that his senses are just as sensitive and sharp.

    Skilled people recognize skilled people. The higher the level of skill, the greater the understanding.

    "...."

    Vikir''s brow furrowed as he looked at the woman in front of him.

    ''Ms. Uroboros.''

    A viin who, despite the onught of the Imperial Guard, a group that includes some of the most powerful people in the world, has never been able to reveal her identity.

    The number of major facilities she has destroyed within the Imperial Capital is nearly triple digits.

    But despite this, no one knows who she is. Not even her powers, skills, or primary weapon.

    That''s because all the witnesses are either dead or insane.

    "...Well, at least one guess was right: it''s a woman."

    Vikir''s spirits lifted as he realized he had a formidable opponent.

    Miss Ouroboros had a rather unique appearance.

    A helmet with tworge snake scales sprouting from it like horns, and a mask with eyes twisted and torn like a lightning bolt.

    She was covered in glossy ck tights and wrapped in a long cloak and scarf.

    Her unusually high heels made her already tall figure appear even taller.

    In her hand, she held a long whip, which might exin the snake-like marks on her skin.

    [Hohohoho- rats crawled into my piggy bank?]

    A modted, high-pitched voice came through the wind holes in the mask''s mouth.

    Landing on the ground, Miss Ouroboros lifted her masked face to look at Vikir.

    Moment.

    [...!]

    Miss Urovoros flinched slightly at the sight of Vikir''s face.

    "...?"

    Vikir squinted.

    Because Miss Ouroboros had changed the momentum she was exuding from the moment their eyes met.

    Koo-koo-koo-koo...

    The frightening force began to crush the nearby dozen meters.

    [Children who touch other people''s piggy banks should be punished, right?]

    At the same time, a whip flew out.

    jaag- peog!

    The whip, which sprouted thorns like a rose vine, crushed the hard rock floor with ease.

    It was like hitting soft tofu with a club.

    ''The aura is dense. At least a Graduator, maybe more.''

    Vikir marveled at Miss Ouroboros'' unexpected helplessness.

    Her aura is like boiling asphalt, and if she were to join the Imperial Army, she''d be a high-ranking officer in no time.

    If he had not reached Master level due to his match with Camus recently, Vikir might have also reached a tight tie.

    ''I''ve never pushed my power to its limits since bing a Swordmaster, so maybe this is a good opportunity.''

    But now that he''s shown his face, he''s Vikir, a first-year academy student.

    Even if he was in Night Hound mode, he couldn''t fight with his face exposed like this, let alone against one of the most dangerous people in the Empire.

    Just then, I heard Minpin call out in a small voice.

    "Boss. There''s a government office just down the road from here, and it''s Imperial Guard patrol time."

    It''s refreshing to see a man who doesn''t just run off on his own, but sticks by his client to the end.

    Vikir nodded at Minpin''s advice and stepped back.

    Right then.

    [Where are you going to get out?]

    Miss Ouroboros''s whip shed again.

    "...!"

    Vikir quickly twisted his head outward.

    Snap!

    A sharp gust of wind hits Vikir''s left cheek. A vicious snake had once again sliced through the trees beside them.

    Miss Ouroboros''s whip had an awl-like tip that could pierce like a spear or sh like a sword.

    Even if you dodged the pointed end, the shing sides curved long and hard, making it very annoying.

    Even the thorns that sprouted from the whip seemed to be coated with a strong poison.

    "Hmph. I guess it won''t be easy to run away.''

    Vikir grimaced and continued to back away.

    Miss Uroboros''s momentum grew more and more vicious as Vikir dodged her whip''s tightening points by flying up and down a few times.

    [Ho, look at that, you had me believing, you''ve been hiding your skills, you devious thing].

    Miss Ouroboros'' whip aura grewrger andrger.

    p-p-kwakwakwauk!

    Miss Ouroboros''s power was like a one-man army, shattering everything in its path.

    The aura-loaded whip spun in an infinite trajectory, like a serpent, and soon formed a sphere around Miss Ouroboros'' body.

    Trapped!

    Everything that touches the aura sphere is torn apart and shattered.

    ...Terrible!

    Except for one.

    [...!?]

    Miss Ouroboros was puzzled to see her whip suddenly snap in midair and bounce away.

    A whip is basically an unstable weapon, a terrifying device that can harm even its owner if it loses control.

    Poof!

    Miss Ouroboros''s whip crashed into nothingness and spun in circles.

    Miss Ouroboros was nearly struck by her own whip.

    [What is this?]

    She shook her head in confusion.

    But Vikir quietly brushes his left cuff.

    "You did well. But next time, don''t do it. It''s dangerous."

    [hack-hack-hiss-]

    On top of Vikir''s wrist, the cub was snorting with an angry expression.

    The area around Miss Ouroboros was now dotted with transparent wires that the cub had put up.

    At the same time, the cub began to emit a dark poisonous aura, blocking Miss Ouroboros'' vision.

    [What the hell! Why is there such an unpleasant fog all of a sudden...]

    Miss Ouroboros waved her hand in front of her eyes in annoyance.

    "Boss, now!"

    To his surprise, Minpin raised his sword.

    He summoned all his strength, imbued the sword with aura, and shed with all his might.

    Even so, the blow was so powerful that Miss Ouroboros had no choice but to raise her whip to block it.

    And then.

    Into the gap, Vikir drew his bow.

    ck Bow Anubis.

    The five-piece tip bowstring and five quivers were drawn taut in unison.

    It shot out in a ck trajectory toward the enemy in front of him.

    [...!]

    Miss Ouroboros quickly retrieved her whip, but was slowed by the web of the Madam cub that hung over every inch of the forest.

    Puff-puff-puck!

    Four arrows were deflected by the whip, but only one flew off on a proper trajectory.

    "...hmm?"

    As Vikir put the next arrow to the quiver, he noticed something odd.

    One of the arrows he had just fired had grazed Miss Ouroboros on the left side of her face.

    A person as skilled as Miss Ouroboros could definitely see and dodge the attack, but for some reason, she was a little slow to react to attacksing from the left.

    The same thing happened when I alternately shot right and left again.

    A subtle difference that would have gone unnoticed by anyone less skilled.

    ''Is there a blind spot over there?''

    Vikir raised his Anubis and fired a grain toward Miss Uroboros''s left side.

    The arrows curved in a parab, aiming relentlessly for Miss Uroboros'' left facial area.

    [Oh no, not this guy again..., He even brought a strange bow!]

    And with that, the unexined rage in Miss Ouroboros'' eyes grew and grew.

    Just then.

    Ping-ping!

    The night sky was suddenly bright.

    Red firecrackers were being set off, creating a bright pir of light.

    Minpin. He ran to the wagon and fired the signal re that hunters used to set off in times of danger.

    [....]

    Miss Ouroboros gritted her teeth and turned her head.

    The ck fog from earlier, the unidentifiable wires, and Vikir''s skill with the strange bow were beyond that of a first-year Academy student.

    Miss Ouroboros was furious at Vikir''s skill, as he ducked and weaved like a hunter who had spent decades in the forest.

    But then.

    "What is this noise?"

    "I thought a hunter was in trouble... It doesn''t seem like something out of the ordinary."

    "The ground is shaking hundreds of meters away, call for backup now!"

    "Halt the march, we''re inbat formation!"

    The rumblings at the base of the mountain were clearlying from the direction of the res.

    Coincidentally, a unit of Imperial Army troops happened to be marching in the vicinity.

    [Ho-ho-ho- bad luck].

    Miss Ouroboros retrieved her whip in an annoyed manner.

    Then she sent a fierce re at Vikir, who had now closed the distance between them.

    [...Well, okay, I guess I''ll have ''another'' connection to you].

    She brushed a hand across the left side of her face, near her mask.

    Then, in the blink of an eye, she stomped off the ground and flew up, crashing through the branches and disappearing.

    Her departure was as swift as her arrival.

    "Sir, sir, are you all right?"

    Minpin, who had whistled to alert the Imperial troops to their location, came running toward Vikir, breathless.

    Vikir only nodded, still in a nonchnt mood.

    "The signal re. Good timing."

    "You''re wee. It''s a good thing I had one in the wagon as a backup."

    After Minpin''s embarrassedugh, Vikir turned his attention back to the forest.

    The forest at night, silent as if it had never been noisy. The sound of branches and leaves swaying in the wind.

    Miss Ouroboros had melted into the thick darkness and was no longer visible.

    The only thing left at the scene were the marks on the ground, as if arge snake had slithered across them.

 Chapter 230: Tuition (8)

    <h4>Chapter 230: Tuition (8)</h4>

    Vikir had gotten satisfying answers from the various appraisers Minpin had referred to him.

    "Most of them are low-ranked, I see. A lot of the bodies have been burned or mangled by boiling oil."

    "But there are quite a few high grade ones, as there are so many of them."

    "As the price of ying is expensive these days, the total sales price is likely to be quite high."

    "Do you have any distributors in mind? If not, we can introduce you to some good ones."

    Appraisers appraised the corpses of gnolls piled up like a mountain in an empty lot and set prices based on the condition of their skin, bones, internal organs, meat, etc.

    1. The best quality is the one with the skin, meat, internal organs, and bones intact.

    2. As long as the skin is in good condition, it is a premium product.

    3. Even if the skin is damaged, if the meat or internal organs are intact, it is intermediate grade.

    4. The skin, meat, and internal organs are damaged, but the bones can still be removed.

    Gnoll corpses are weed with open arms by all magicbs in the Imperial City.

    Even taxidermists sometimes buy them when arge gnolles in. This is because they make great teaching tools for beginners.

    The skin is in high demand for its durability and softness to the touch, and the meat and organs are also used for food, feed, and fertilizer.

    Some specialty cuts of gnoll meat are prized by gourmets because they taste simr to the finest beef.

    Scattering gnoll organs in fish ponds and orchards will produce more abundant results than any artificial feed or fertilizer.

    The bones were also heavily processed for medicinal and spiritual uses.

    Because Vikir fried them with boiling oil, the skin, meat, and internal organs of the dead gnolls were mostly damaged.

    However, due to theirrge numbers, many gnolls remained intact, and even the most mangled corpses still had intact bones, teeth, and ws that could be sold for a decent amount of money.

    Of course, it was a small amount of moneypared to the price they would receive once they were processed, but it was quite generous considering that they could skip the process of collecting, transporting, and sorting them all together, as well as dealing with retailers who would try to haggle over the price.

    "What''s more, it''s even better that the government has even given us a reward. That''s awesome!"

    That was the general consensus of Minpin, who had been glued to Vikir''s side ever since that night.

    He was so impressed with Vikir''s efficiency during the extermination of the gnoll horde that he took care of all the menial tasks, from selling the gnoll corpses to collecting the reward money.

    Vikir had seen Minpin''s loyalty during the battle with Miss Ouroboros, so he knew he could trust him with everything.

    As Minpin loaded the gnoll skins into Vikir''s cart, he said.

    "You can sell all the gnoll byproducts to the Guild, but I suggest you find a market for the skins. Especially in the case of the skins of the Poison Gnolls, I''d rather you put them up for auction privately, though..."

    "Then I suppose we''d better take it to the Academy."

    Vikir replied with a nod.

    The academy in Colosseo rents out warehouse space enchanted with preservation magic to students at a low rent.

    And the bazaar, held on thest day of every month, held various auctions, so it was the perfect ce to sell things.

    "It''s a ''bargain'' bazaar, not arge-scale auction officially sanctioned by the Empire, so it should be easy to dispose of the gnoll skins."

    "Hmm. A bazaar in the Colosseo. Sounds like a good idea."

    Gnoll skins have many uses.

    Its warmth and texture make it a great addition to armor in winter, and its toughness and sticity make it useful for knots and decorations on scabbards.

    It could also be used as a reagent because it changes color when ites into contact with poison.

    "And I belong to a newspaper club, so maybe I can ce an ad in the back of the paper."

    Vikir returned to the academy to sell both the gnoll and poison gnoll skins.

    Meanwhile, Minpin looked disappointed.

    "You''re going back to the Academy?"

    Vikir''s skill in this hunt was beyond belief for a first-year undergraduate at the Academy.

    Was that why? Minpin must have realized that he wanted to continue working with Vikir.

    ... but he had no idea.

    Vikir had no intention of letting him go.

    "Hey, Minpin."

    Vikir called to Minpin in a soft voice.

    When Minpin looked away, Vikir asked bluntly.

    "Your home doesn''t look like it''s in very good shape. How are your wife and daughter?"

    Vikir asked. Minpin''s expression darkened slightly at Vikir''s words.

    "That''s right, it''s actually quite difficult to run a guild these days due tock of funds, and I can''t afford to let go of my longtime family members...."

    "Why would a guild of your caliber have such a problem? From the looks of it, there are plenty of skilled guides and porters in the guild."

    "All hunting guilds are like that these days. The big mercenary guilds have a lot to look out for, and it''s a shame to be without a backup."

    After speaking, Minpin smiled bitterly.

    "Huh, this is all my fault. If I hadn''t made a mistake when I was younger, I wouldn''t be in such a tight spot financially."

    "Mistakes?"

    Vikir asked, and Minpin hesitated a bit before nodding.

    "When I was younger, I was pretty ambitious, so I made some contacts with brokers to fulfill my dreams... until I got scammed and lost all my savings."

    "You got scammed by brokers?"

    "Yes. I''m ashamed to say, but yes, I did, and I put my wife through a lot of trouble, and I still feel guilty about it, and I feel guilty about my daughter, By the way. She''s going to school next year, and I''m already worried about the cost of her education."

    "What was your dream that made you try to get through brokers?"

    Vikir asked, and Minpin scratched the back of his head and answered in a rueful little voice.

    "I guess it was... Actually, I wanted to join Baskerville House."

    Vikir''s eyes narrowed slightly at the unexpected words.

    Minpin continued.

    "A family that ys monsters on the Western Front. Iron-blooded swordsmen, how cool is that? And when you join the Baskervilles, you''re taught the invincible Baskerville style of swordsmanship. They give you a house, they give yound, and they give you a wife, so I figured that was the only way to go. Of course, it all went down the drain when I got scammed by the brokers."

    "Hmm- yeah?"

    Vikir stroked his chin with a finger.

    The thoughts I had from the beginning became even stronger.

    Vikir asked onest time.

    "Hey."

    "What?"

    "Are you familiar with the ecology of monsters? Their habits, the location of their nests?"

    "Of course, I''ve traveled all over the continent with the Exploration Guild in the past."

    "Are you familiar with the monsters of the Western Front?"

    "Of course. I can recognize every subspecies, variant, subordinate, and superspecies."

    Vikir nodded in satisfaction at Minpin''s answer.

    "I''m sure I''ll need to call on you again sooner orter."

    * * *

    Colosseo Academy''s admissions office and schrship foundation.

    Professor Banshee was filling out some papers with an annoyed look on his face.

    " ...It seems like I''m the only one doing all the work for the academy."

    The mountain of papers in front of him were all rted to schrships and tuition.

    Then.

    A knock.

    There was a knock on the office door.

    "Come in."

    A familiar face appeared at the same time as Professor Banshee''s voice.

    It was Dolores, the student council president.

    Professor Banshee hated her because she always showed up when it was time to allocate the schrship budget.

    " ... What else are you here to nag me about?"

    "It''s an agenda for students who have been neglected by schrships."

    Dolores slid a new set of documents in front of Professor Banshee''s eyes.

    Students who cannot attend next semester due to disadvantaged family circumstances.

    They were filled with stories of students who had to work part-time to pay their tuition and couldn''t keep their grades up, or who couldn''t keep their grades up to qualify for schrships.

    The students who worked part-time ended up not being able to save up enough money in time, and the students who studied ended up not getting schrships because their grades weren''t good enough.

    There were also students who hadplicated family situations and were actually disadvantaged, but were not eligible for schrships on paper.

    Dolores says calmly.

    "Some of the students who didn''t get the schrships need to be re-evaluated. On the other hand, there are students who have received schrships who need to be reevaluated."

    The number of people who fraudulently obtained schrships by pretending to be from poor families on paper when in reality they were from well-to-do families and living well was considerable, Dolores said.

    She was now reporting this same fact.

    However.

    The documents Dolores submitted were all neat and well-presented forms, but to Professor Banshee, they were just luggage that needed to be handled while working extra nights.

    " ... Schrships are awarded ording to school rules. The same ones you''re supposed to uphold and defend as student council president."

    "I''m asking you to take a second look at the needy students that those rules miss."

    "Are you asking me to do my job twice?"

    "As a ''student council president,'' I have an obligation to be a voice for student grievances."

    "And who''s going to take care of my grievances about having to work twice, and you''re going to double my sry?"

    "Professor Morg Banshee. Today is the deadline for tuition payments. Please listen to your students one more time."

    "What does the school rules say I''m supposed to do about that?"

    Professor Banshee and Dolores continue to argue, neither of them backing down.

    However, as time passed, Dolores''s spirit was gradually weakened by Professor Banshee''s irond attitude.

    ... Just then.

    BANG!

    The door burst open without a knock.

    Vikir. He strode into Professor Banshee''s office.

    Naturally, Professor Banshee, who hated Vikir, frowned.

    "Vikir-kun, now you''re mming through the door without knocking? I guess your father didn''t give you a good home education, did he?"

    "Yes."

    "...?"

    It was a defeat for Professor Banshee, who hadn''t realized that Vikir had a fairly strong immunity to parent abuse.

    Professor Banshee crossed his arms in frustration.

    "I know. Did you know that today is the deadline for tuition payments?"

    Deep down, he knew Vikir wouldn''t be able toe up with the money.

    He''d heard that Vikir had brought back a lot of gnoll skins from somewhere.

    But Professor Banshee had heard other rumors as well.

    ''Two groups of students, one noble and one royal, have dered that they will keep Vikir''s arm in check.''

    There are two major factions in the bazaar of the Colosseo Academy.

    The Noble Faction, made up of elites from the nobility, and the Royalist Faction, made up of elites from the royalty.

    As long as these two groups are determined to keep Vikir in check, there is no way that the goods at the bazaar will fetch a fair price.

    So Professor Banshee knew deep down that Vikir would have a hard time paying his tuition.

    ''I don''t know where he got that many skins to y with,... but if it''s not cash, it''s not money if you can''t sell it.''

    ... but.

    Professor Banshee''s prediction went spectacrly wrong.

    Thud!

    Vikir ced a heavy sack on Professor Banshee''s desk.

    Therge sack was surprisingly full of banknotes and gold coins.

    It was a staggering amount of money, enough to pay for 4 years of tuition in one fell swoop.

    "!?"

    Professor Banshee and Dolores stared at the pile of gold coins on the desk in amazement.

    Standing in front of them, Vikir opened his mouth with his characteristic expressionless face.

    "It''s for all my friends who couldn''t pay their tuition."

 Chapter 231: Tuition (9)

    <h4>Chapter 231: Tuition (9)</h4>

    Colosseo Academy''s Thrifty Bazaar boasts a huge scale that belies its cute name.

    Students auction off their used items at bargain prices, and asionally some students bring in items they''ve crafted or foraged, or unidentified antiques from their respective families.

    The size of the bazaar is such that it is considered one of the top ten auctions in the empire, and the fact that people from outside the academy are allowed to bid at the bazaar attracts a lot of attention and foot traffic.

    It is also one of thergest bazaars in the empire, and attracts many people from outside the academy.

    The "aristocracy" and the "nobility".

    The Aristocracy was formed by students from prominent aristocratic families. The elite, including the Seven Families, their rtives, and their families, held real power.

    On the other hand, the nobility faction, which was formed by elites from noble families, was just as powerful as the aristocracy faction.

    While the Aristocracy was a small elite, exclusive league of its own, the Nobility was made up of members of the Toho family, who were renowned for their agriculture andmerce, the heirs of famous mercenary guilds, or the heirs ofrge mines and shipyards.

    They were the real power in the academy and continued to grow in size and power by recruiting talented juniors under their wing.

    This power structure would continue after graduation, bing awork of connections and systems that would eventually epass the political and financial circles of the empire.

    And it was Vikir who was the first first-year to be predicted by the aristocracy and the nobility, the two groups that secretly dominate the Academy.

    Although it wasn''t when he entered Academy, he was a talented person who stood out in the midterm exam over time. Since he is a single person with no backbone behind him, he is perfect for flirting.

    The aristocracy and the nobility had been plotting to take this talented first year under their wing for a very long time.

    But Vikir has never lived up to their expectations.

    At best, their letters were chewed up rather than read, and no matter how many times they tried to visit and talk to him, they never saw his face.

    Even when the second and third years tried to make a show of force by dispatching a group of beautiful girls and a group of fierce fighters, it didn''t work, so both the aristocrats and the nobility were left with their heads in the sand.

    ''Whoa, Vikir, I think we need to give this cocky junior a good punch in the nose.''

    ''Let''s give him a good p in the face before he gets under our skin.''

    Ironically, the aristocrats and the nobility joined hands to suppress each other.

    In the short term, Vikir became a public enemy.

    Just as the aristocrats and the nobles were plotting to take him down, Vikir showed up at a bazaar.

    ''I hear he''s trying to raise money for tuition.''

    ''Gnoll skins. I''ve been needing it for a while now, so I thought I''d give him a good price.''

    ''I''m sure he got a good deal from the hunting guild, but I''m not sure he knows the market price.''

    ''Yeah, I heard they don''t take clients from just any hunting guild.''

    The aristocratic and noble students were eager to use the auction to tten Vikir''s nose.

    And when the auction began, no one really wanted to buy Vikir''s gnoll skin.

    The aristocrats and nobles had outbid the other students.

    The aristocrats and nobles giggled in the back of the silent auction room, imagining Vikir''s soon-to-be dead face.

    ... but.

    ''I thought there would be a lot of people who covet gnoll skin because it is a useful item. It''s not as popr as I thought.''

    Vikir shrugged and turned his head to look back at the pile of gnoll hides on the auction house stage.

    ''Aha. Is it because there are so many?''

    At the same time, Vikir did something that made both the aristocrats and the nobles jump out of their skin.

    ...Hiss!

    As if he was going to light a torch on the spot, he ignited the gnoll skin on the stage.

    Everyone jumped to their feet in horror, but Vikir continued to burn every gnoll skin in sight.

    Crackle! Crackle! Hiss!

    More than half of the gnoll skins on the stage had burned to nothing.

    ....

    A strange silence descended upon the auction hall.

    In this frozen atmosphere, Vikir spoke briefly.

    ''Is it still too much?''

    At the same time, Vikir pulled on the fire once more.

    He did not extinguish the me until the remaining gnoll skins were once again halved.

    At this point, the students began to get agitated.

    The students were upset because they needed the gnoll skins for their research.

    But Vikir was relentless.

    When no one came forward to buy it, Vikir raised the torch once more.

    There was no hesitation in his gesture, as if he intended to burn them all to the ground.

    Instead, the onlookers rushed to stop him.

    ''That''s for the next ss! I, I want to keep it! I''m not prepared yet!''

    ''I needed some extra armor for my cold-weather performance evaluation, too! There''s not much left for sale....''

    ''Buy! I''ll take it! Outbid!''

    ''I''ll buy it! I''ll buy it! Stop burning it!''

    In such a situation, Vikir said firmly.

    ''The minimum bid is four times the first auction price.''

    Vikir was determined to get his money''s worth.

    In the end, the students had no choice but to cry and eat mustard to Vikir, ming the aristocrats and the nobles.

    Of course, the students of the aristocratic faction and the noble faction were dumbfounded.

    * * *

    "...So. That''s how the auction ended?"

    Professor Banshee asked in disbelief.

    Vikir nodded nonchntly.

    "Yep. I was able to get all of my tuition paid for."

    I''m afraid those words will end.

    ...Thud, thud, thud!

    The tough leather bag ced on the desk tore with a loud noise.

    The bills and gold coins inside began to fall to the floor with a loud tter.

    Clink, clink, clink, clink.

    Professor Banshee''s desk was quickly covered in money.

    He looked down at therge, sturdy leather sack bursting at the seams and muttered quietly.

    " ... You''ll need some change."

    Professor Banshee pulled a pair of reading sses from his pocket and ced them on the tip of his nose, and with a delicate snap of his fingers, he extracted a handful ofrge gold coins.

    "That covers your tuition, ah, all four years at once, all in one lump sum."

    Professor Banshee just shrugged his shoulders, as if he didn''t know what to do with the rest of the money.

    But Vikir didn''t seem to be in the mood to collect the change.

    "The rest is for tuition, too."

    "...There''s too much money left over to be called tuition. Are you nning to buy a lecture hall, if you''re going to be a professor and not a student?"

    "Please use the rest for the students who can''t afford tuition."

    Professor Banshee was stunned by Vikir''s words. And even Dolores, who was standing next to him.

    "Surely I''m not mishearing you?"

    "Yes."

    "Are you saying that you''re going to donate all of this money to the Foundation, in the name of schrships?"

    "Yes. But with a condition."

    At Vikir''s words, Professor Banshee''s mouth twisted into a ''then so be it'' expression.

    It happens often. People with deep pockets donaterge sums of money to schrship foundations and then take advantage of them.

    Usually it''s about tax deductions (donations are far more tax-deductible than any other expense), expanding their influence within the academy by creating a positive image, or even creating a political group or building power.

    ... But Vikir''s conditions were again outside of Professor Banshee''s expectations.

    "The condition is that in order to receive this money, you must fulfill a certain number of volunteer hours at the orphanage."

    "Orphanage?"

    Professor Banshee furrowed his brow as if he didn''t understand.

    If you can get a schrship by volunteering at a orphanage, that''s a great deal.

    This is a very grateful offer for Academy students who have to focus on part-time jobs and schrships.

    In other words, it was no different from saying that they would just pay the tuition for free. For the next ten years or so!

    ''What the hell is he up to?''

    Professor Banshee scanned Vikir''s entire body with a questioning look.

    But no matter how hard he stared, Vikir didn''t respond, so Professor Banshee raised his hands.

    "Okay. I see. We''ll create an award on Academy and award schrships in its name. Do you have anything in mind for the name of the award?"

    Vikir was silent for a moment at Professor Banshee''s question.

    Then Professor Banshee waved his hand as if he didn''t want to hear more.

    "I see you don''t, so we''ll just call it the Vikir Award. I''m sure the students who receive it will be very grateful to you, since they''re lucky enough to have a wealthy sponsor and get their tuition paid for free. You must be a celebrity."

    Then.

    Vikir held up a hand to stop Professor Banshee.

    "The donor''s name shall remain anonymous, and the prize shall be named something else."

    "?"

    Professor Banshee adjusts his sses and looks up.

    "You mean to tell me you''re going to donate arge sum of money and be anonymous, so you get no tax deduction and no fame?

    Professor Banshee''s belief that all humans are driven by self-interest was being denied in front of him.

    But whether Professor Banshee was confused or not, Vikir spoke up, still with the same expressionless face, but in a slightly lowered voice.

    "The name of the award shall be ''Nymphet''."

    Hearing that, Professor Banshee furrowed his brow in confusion.

    Only.

    "...."

    Dolores, who had been listening to this entire conversation from the side, could only twitch her eyelids.

 Chapter 232: Suspicion (1)

    <h4>Chapter 232: Suspicion (1)</h4>

    Student Council President Dolores L Quovadis.

    She had a strange feeling when she heard that the Aristocratic and Noble factions, which had been the eyesores of the student council, had gotten into a lot of trouble due to the recent incident at the bazaar.

    Unlike the student council, which is an official organization and wields power on the positive side of campus, the aristocrats and nobles mainly form their power on the negative side of campus.

    Whereas the student council operated ording to legitimate rules and procedures, the aristocrats and nobles were using connections, favors, and insider information to gain power.

    So, student autonomy on campus was divided between the student council, the aristocracy, and the nobility, and Dolores didn''t like them because they were always enjoying extrajudicial power, avoiding the responsibilities of official organizations and reaping the benefits of unofficial organizations.

    However, since it was the student council that had to collect public opinion and establish policies ordingly, the aristocratic faction and noble faction that led the flow of public opinion were always annoying opponents that had to be watched closely.

    ...And that''s when they drank the water. To one individual, a first-year student named Vikir.

    The aristocrats and nobility, who had been secretly growing in power to rival the student council, had lost a lot of face in this one incident, and it had caused a lot of defections.

    The weakening of the enemy is the same as the strengthening of the enemy.

    Many of the people who were disappointed with the aristocrats and nobility turned around, and some of them even joined the student council.

    So the executives in the student council were smiling all day.

    "Vikir, why don''t you rmend him to our student council?"

    "Sure. Who can resist the golden badge of student council?"

    "Kya, he''s a rising star. I can''t believe he''s a candidate for student council since freshman year."

    "Maybe he could make a run for the youngest student council president?"

    "Uh, that''s a little too much. I mean, not student council president, but still."

    "Anyway. We''ll have to move fast, because the aristocracy and the nobility will be trying to bully him and recruit him at the same time."

    In the worst case scenario, Vikir would have been a candidate for an executive position as early as second year.

    But Dolores didn''t think Vikir would ept the invitation to join student council, let alone an executive position.

    ''A normal freshman would jump at the opportunity to be a student council member, but... he''s different.''

    No, actually, it was more than different.

    Not only did he go out and collect a huge amount of gnoll skins, but he also donated all the proceeds to a schrship foundation for students in academy.

    What''s more, he has the nerve to offend the aristocracy and nobility in the process.

    ''Gnoll skins may not be incredibly valuable, but they''re still quite valuable, and to burn them in front of your enemies and then haggle over the price? That''s not the boldness of a first year, no matter how you look at it.''

    Dolores was intrigued by Vikir''s character.

    A junior who had received an unusually high number of detentions since the beginning of the semester.

    And because of the sincerity shown at orphanage and the kindness shown in resolving the disaster(?) that urred during a drinking game, I was paying a lot of attention to it now.

    ''And as it turns out, he was the top student in both written and practical exams.''

    A student who is good at studying and has good skills, and moreover, a very conscientious student.

    It was a pity that we would have be closer friends if the newspaper club I belonged to had not written a harsh article criticizing The Night Hound.

    And now. Dolores found herself feeling more than a little fond and curious at Vikir''s behavior, which gave a blow to the aristocracy and the nobility.

    Those feelings had only grown stronger after watching the conversation between Vikir and Professor Bansheest evening.

    ''Let''s call the prize ''Nymphet''.''

    Professor Banshee didn''t understand the meaning of Vikir''s words, but Dolores recognized them immediately.

    Nymphet. The poor child who had been sacrificed in the fight against Dantalian.

    Vikir still remembered Nymphet.

    ''Don''t you think you were too hard on her? Did she get a kiss?''

    ''No.''

    ''It''s not ''no'', it''s ''can''t''! She wants to give you a kiss like that!''

    ''It''s embarrassing.''

    Dolores recalled a conversation she had with Vikir during herst volunteer assignment at the orphanage.

    Vikir had rejected Nymphet''s kisses because he was embarrassed.

    ''Maybe it''s because of the memories of that day that he can''t forget the Nymphet even more?''

    If so, Vikir must be hiding a warm heart beneath his blunt outer shell.

    No, Dolores was sure of that.

    ...Jump up!

    Dolores jumped to her feet.

    For some reason, she felt a rush of urgency now that her thoughts had gone this far.

    It seemed like something needed to be said to Vikir right now.

    It was probably out of a sense of responsibility and debt as the one who had watched Nymphet''sst moments with the Night Hound in the fight against Dantalian, and some other unexined emotion she didn''t recognize.

    "Uh, Ms. President, where are you going?"

    "Is there anything urgent?"

    "What''s the agenda for today''s meeting...?"

    The student council executives look over with puzzled expressions.

    "Sorry, everyone! I will handle the agenda even if it means staying up all night!"

    Dolores ducked her head and apologized, then hurried out the door.

    She left the lecture hall and headed for the dormitories.

    Most students would be there by this time.

    ... But Vikir was not so easy to find.

    "Vikir? He''s thest one to get into the dorms."

    "Shouldn''t he be in the library by now? He''s a study bug."

    "Not in the library? Hmm, then maybe he''s in the gym. He looks like he''s working out hard... if you look at his body."

    "What? He''s not in the library or in the gym? Then maybe...."

    I asked Tudor, Sancho, Sinir, and others who were familiar with Vikir, but I had no idea where he was.

    The sign-in sheets at the front and back gates didn''t say he''d left, so he must be somewhere at the Academy.

    "...Where the hell are you?"

    Dolores stood, catching her breath.

    I''ve noticed this before at the orphanage, but Vikir is really good at getting around.

    ''Come to think of it, he was also missing when the mysterious ck mage appeared at the festival.''

    A student who is shrouded in mystery and doubt about everything.

    Dolores felt her questions about Vikir grow more and more intense.

    Even when I happened to be nearby and tried to smell the soul, I couldn''t find anything.

    There was no way to tell, as Vikir usually kept his heart far more closed than most people his age.

    Suddenly, Dolores remembered Vikir''s record of demerits.

    ''I can''t believe he''s umted so many demerits for taking a wrong turn. For such a smart kid.''

    I didn''t realize it at the time, but it''s strange to think about now.

    I can''t help but think that Vikir must have umted those demerits with some sort of intent.

    Dolores opened the chart recorded on the mana stone and took a closer look at Vikir''s penalty points record.

    <Vikir''s Life Attitude Score (Points deduction factors)

    -1 point for using the emergency exit on the third floor of the dormitory building.

    -1 point for entering the 4th grade private area of the Performance Hall

    -1 point for using the central staircase on the 1st floor of the Deadly Poison Experiment Building building

    -1 point for entering the smoking area of the Experimental Monster Breeding Center

    -1 point for using the central staircase on the 6th floor of the Faculty Research Center

    -1 point for using the central staircase on the 3rd floor of dedicated training room Hot ss.

    -1 point for entering the physical training room outside of normal business hours

    -1 point for entering the restricted area next to the food warehouse in the cafeteria.

    .

    .

    "... these ces. I see they''re categorized by date. Given the location, what will be the route of movement?"

    Dolores decided that it wouldn''t be a good idea to find Vikir today anyway, so she decided to follow Vikir''s movements so far.

    Why on earth. The purpose was to understand whether an ordinary first-year student would have received penalty points for going to a ce where he would never set foot.

    ...And.

    After visiting each of the ces listed in the demerit book, Dolores noticed an odd simrity.

    "A dark, high ce?"

    They all faced the Academy''s high walls.

    Dolores looked around.

    "...What? Were you nning on crossing the walls of the Academy?"

    Why else would he have picked these ces? It was a series of increasingly iprehensible situations.

    Just then.

    -TING!

    A chime sounded from the mana stone.

    Dolores quickly turned it on.

    <Bikir-Life Attitude Score ( Deduction Points Factor )

    -1 point for using the rooftop emergency exit on the first floor of the dormitory building.

    A notification popped up that Vikir''s demerit had been updated. It was only a few seconds ago.

    This meant that Vikir had climbed onto the roof of the dormitory building and had been caught by the supervisor.

    "There you are!"

    Dolores remembered that the rooftop of the dormitory building was also a very high ce.

    Wondering why anyone would want to go to such a high ce, Dolores started running with all her might.

    She soon reached the roof of the first-year dormitory building.

    But there was no one there.

    Neither Vikir nor the supervisor who had penalized him was there.

    "If you were in the dormitory, that means you went to your room, right?"

    Dolores hurriedly climbed down from the fire escape and, after getting permission from the supervisor, went in search of Vikir''s room.

    ...But even there, he couldn''t find Bikir.

    Instead, he met Piggy, who was studying in his room.

    "Vikir, did he juste in and then leave again?"

    "Well, do you know where he is now?"

    "He said he was going to the shower, but why...?"

    As soon as Dolores heard Piggy''s answer, she was about to leave the door, but stopped for a moment.

    This is because I realized toote that if the ce was a shower room, I wouldn''t be able to meet him even if I went there.

    "He''lle back to the room when he''s done showering, right?"

    "I don''t know, Vikir wanders around a lot in the evening."

    " ... Is there ever a time when he doesn''te in?"

    "Not really, he alwayses in, even if it''ste."

    Dolores nodded at Piggy''s words.

    Suddenly, her gaze traveled to where Vikir was staying.

    A worn wooden desk. Thin nkets and a frayed pillowcase. A cheap matrix that looked like it had a few springs out.

    It''s hard to tell that anyone was living here.

    Piggy''s in bedding above looks as luxurious as the emperor''s.

    Feeling Dolores''s gaze, Piggy smirked.

    "Vikir never keeps much stuff in his room, like someone who will always leave."

    " ... leave?"

    "No, no. It''s just a feeling I have, and it''s kind of a roommate thing."

    Dolores'' expression grew serious as she listened to Piggy.

    Around that time, the supervisor in charge of the men''s dormitory warned Dolores.

    He warned her not to spend too much time on the men''s floor with underssmen.

    Dolores had no choice but to turn and walk away without seeing Vikir.

    "Yeah. Anyway, thanks, Piggy. I''ll see youter."

    "Yeah. When Vikir gets back, I''ll let him know you paid a visit."

    Dolores left the room with a polite bow from Piggy.

    As I looked back several times.

    ....

    ...and.

    Alone in the room, Peggy muttered to himself after witnessing this incredible turn of events.

    "No way, the student council president... Vikir?"

    It was an understandable misunderstanding.

 Chapter 233: Suspicion (2)

    <h4>Chapter 233: Suspicion (2)</h4>

    The next morning. Early hours before the first period sses started.

    Dolores found herself in the newspaper club room.

    She had dark circles under her eyes from being up all nightst night dealing with the student council agenda.

    "I have a lot of work to do for the National Collegiate League next week. Should I hold a vigil again today....''

    Colosseo. Magic Tower. Varangian. Temisquira.

    All of the official organizations of the Colosseo Academy were busy, as the annualpetition between the four most prestigious academies in the empire was approaching.

    Including, of course, the student council, of which Dolores was the president.

    But despite the night''s work, her eyes were alight with enthusiasm.

    "I''ll finish my club work in the morning, then I''ll go to lecture, and then I''ll have a free period until afternoon, so in the meantime, I''ll go find Vikir and get ...!''

    Dolores pushed open the door to the club room with a flourish.

    "Good morning, everyone!"

    Dolores'' usual cheerful greeting.

    But it''s odd how her ssmates, who would normally greet her with a cheerful smile, are so quiet.

    All of them are looking at her with a strange expression on their faces.

    "Spring ising to our dear Dolores."

    "A romance with a younger man, that''s great."

    "She''s younger~ Our Dolores is in a higher grade, but she''s younger!"

    "Whatever. My junior and her are a campus couple, I''m jealous, I''m jealous!"

    "You don''t even tell us! It''s really too much! Do I need to know about my best friend''s love life through a newspaper article?"

    ...?

    Dolores can only roll her big eyes at thements from her third-year ssmates.

    Then. Dolores saw a newspaper article being held out in front of her.

    It was a newspaper from outside the academy, and it was the exclusive report of a reporter from another newspaper who had infiltrated the academy.

    [Exclusive] Springtime for the Student Council President of the Colosseo Academy?

    -Ms. Dolores L Quovadis, known as the student council president of Colosseo Academy, has recently been found to be in a rtionship...

    Ms. Dolores has been the center of attention since the beginning of her enrollment, not only for her literary skills, but also for her beauty...

    Her partner, surprisingly, is Mr. V, a freshman two years below her...

    Mr. V, who had attracted attention from the beginning of his enrollment due to his outstanding appearance, grades, and athleticism...

    The feelings between the two, which are believed to have sprouted during the volunteer work,...

    After an ardent courtship on both sides of Dolores part, the rtionship appears to have been sessful...

    The Quovadis family is yet toment on the matter...

    Meanwhile, the citizens of the Imperial Capital, upon learning of Ms. Dolores love life, reacted to the news withments such as, "It''s nice to see," "She''s a good girl," and "I''m jealous, but as long as she''s happy, it''s okay."...

    "..., What is this?"

    Dolores''s mouth dropped open.

    I thought there had been a lot of paparazziing in from the outside recently, but was it really about me?

    A group of third-year students gathered around Dolores as she stood dumbfounded.

    "Hey, hey, hey. Here''s the guy who''s supposed to be ''student council president'' and ''the guy the saint has a crush on''. Isn''t that him from the first year? Naphtali man! Why did he dress up as a woman at the festival?"

    "If it''s Vikir, we can send our own Dolores! He''s quiet, sincere, and most of all, he''s handsome!"

    "What a pity! You should have listened to us, then we could have helped you long ago!"

    "My dear Dolores~ we''ve always thought you seemed strangely uninterested in men~ but it turns out you have high eyes, doesn''t it?"

    "I heard that a well-behaved cat goes up to the stove first~ Ugh! How dare you put this sister aside!"

    The girl talk began. It was a conversation that Dolores was having a hard time adjusting to.

    "It''s not that, it''s just that there''s something about Vikir that''s bothering me...! There''s more than one thing about him that seems suspicious!"

    But Dolores''s excuses only served to reinforce the misunderstanding.

    "Yeah, yeah~ That''s how it all starts~ with a little something bothering you."

    "I''ve had enough of the prologue~ Now for the main story?"

    "What, is Vikir a suspicious? I mean, he''s suspiciously handsome, I mean, his eyes are suspicious, his nose is suspicious, his mouth is suspicious, his skin is suspicious~ I wonder if it''s a human being!"

    "That''s right, I was intimidated by his witch costume at the festival the other day, even though I''m a girl. We need to be more like Dolores!"

    That''s all anyone who''s ever seen Vikir dressed as a woman at a festival is still talking about.

    Realizing that all excuses were useless against this tide, Dolores stormed out of the gathering spot.

    "Ugh... If this happens, it bes more difficult to find it."

    It seemed like I would have to refrain from meeting Vikir for a while.

    I didn''t want to spur on the gossip.

    Just then.

    "...!"

    As she exited the lecture hall and turned onto the trail, something caught her eye.

    "Ugh! This crazy dog ??again!?"

    "Die, die, die!"

    "Ouch! I''m bitten! It hurts!"

    The familiar voices wereing from behind the building.

    Dolores walked over to where the voices wereing from and saw an amazing sight.

    Yousphere, Realbelt, Yellowlove, Ai, Redmin, and Southmiddle.

    A group of sophomores from the Cold Warriors'' B ss.

    This group of three boys and three girls were making a ruckus among themselves.

    And in the middle of it all, a ck puppy.

    Growling...

    It was a stray that Dolores called ''Choco''.

    When they was almost expelled from academy, their family sent a delegation and begged them for it, and she let them go with a memorandum that they would never bully the weak again... But they''re causing trouble again?

    Dolores stepped forward in rm.

    "You''re doing this again! You really need to get expelled from academy for once...!?"

    But I couldn''t finish my sentence.

    That was because the six men and women in front of me were all covered in blood and tattered clothes.

    Choco. The ck puppy was moving swiftly and viciously, baring its teeth and nails to bite at the six individuals.

    ... Growl!

    The way it moves, it looks like a fierce beast. It may have been small in size, but its fighting instincts were jaw-dropping.

    Its strength and speed were beyond the reach of most fighting dogs.

    And these six bullies who were being scratched and bitten were running away crying.

    "Aaah! If it weren''t for the promise to the saint, then aahh!"

    "Yeah, but I don''t think I can catch it even if I spend mana, so just run!"

    "Kaaaak, what the hell is that dog, it''s so fast, why are you so scared!"

    Dolores stood with a dazed expression and watched the bullies disappear into the distance.

    Hack-hack-hack-.

    The ck puppy chased after them for a while, but then turned and walked away.

    "Hey, Choco~"

    Dolores called to the ck puppy as it walked in the opposite direction.

    ...?

    The dog turned his head as if he recognized his name.

    Dolores took a few steps toward the ck dog, who had stopped walking, and reached out her hand.

    The ck puppy slinked back, avoiding her touch, but Dolores persevered and picked him up.

    ''Mmm... do you have a caring owner, I can smell the scent in your fur.''

    Dolores buried her face in the ck puppy''s chin and neck and sniffed.

    The fluffy fur smelled faintly of something good. A familiar scent.

    Dolores quickly realized what it was.

    ''It smells like basic shampoo, an amenity provided in the Academy''s dormitories. The owner must be a student. Who is it?''

    If a ck dog has ever had a bath, it''s probably in the dormitory.

    Dolores opened her mouth to ask if any of the students in the dormitory had a ck puppy.

    "You''re... tougher than you look, chasing six people away, but you still shouldn''t fight so recklessly, those guys were only frozen because your sister gave them a firm warning, and I hope you don''t think everyone else attacks like that, because you shouldn''t do that."

    ....

    The ck puppy just looks away, not sure if he''s listening to Dolores or not.

    When he seemed to ignore her, Dolores spoke up, half joking, half serious.

    "Choco, you keep ignoring your sister, and I''m going to have you neutered?"

    At that, the ck pup''s ears perked up.

    ...Pot!

    It scrambled out of Dolores'' arms, pawing the floor and running away.

    "What? Choco, wait!"

    Dolores ran after the ck puppy, but it was much faster than she thought and quickly disappeared into the bushes.

    "Well, he''s a guy who doesn''t give up his side. Like who~"

    Dolores smirked.

    These days, I think there are quite a few cases where I get dumped.

    Whether it''s the Night Hound, Vikir, or Choco.

    Just then.

    "...ck."

    A groan came from the floor behind me.

    I turned to see the boy who had been chased by the ck puppy earlier lying on the floor.

    Yousphere, one of the Cold ss second years.

    Dolores let out a small sigh and stood in front of him.

    "So, why were you bullying the puppy who can''t talk again?"

    "Uh, no offense, Ms. President, but this time that bitch... no, puppy attacked us first!"

    "How can that little guy attack you first?"

    "No, Ms. President, you saw it earlier! That thing has really sharp teeth and nails, and how fast it is, even faster than our family''s tame wolves...!"

    "Enough with the excuses."

    Feeling the disdainful re Dolores was sending him, Yousphere really did look resentful.

    "Hah. In the past, I was attacked by the ''Night Hound'' but why am I so unlucky these days?"

    Dolores flinches at the passing remark.

    "...you. What did you just mutter?"

    "What? Ah, ah, ah. I didn''t mean no luck, I just meant... I don''t really have anything going for me these days...."

    "Not that. Before that."

    "Yes? Ah, the Night Hound?"

    Yousphere hesitated for a moment, then ran a hand through his bangs.

    X

    And there it was, the faint scar of a sword wound.

    "...I got this way because I was walking down the street at night and got grabbed by a masked maniac."

    "A masked maniac?"

    "Yeah, but I didn''t realize it at the time, but now that I think about it, he looked exactly like the Night Hound or some kind of viin."

    Yousphere''s testimony was remarkable.

    ording to his statement, he and five of his bully friends had met the Night Hound in person.

    This was before the Night Hound''s behavior had been reported in the media.

    Dolores asked with a serious expression.

    "...So, the date you met the Night Hound was the day of the freshman wee party?"

    "Yeah, yeah, yeah."

    "And that was before the Night Hound was even called the Night Hound, before he went on his terrorist spree in the Imperial Capital, right?"

    "Yes. I remember it clearly, the stork''s beak mask. The voice that sounded like scraping metal."

    Yousphere spoke up, clearly intimidated by Dolores''s momentum.

    "We tried really hard to find him too. We also hire a criminal investigation agency. But everything failed. I can''t seem to get my head around it."

    "No wonder. The Imperial Guard and the Imperial Army tracked it, and they couldn''t catch it."

    "That was back when the Night Hounds weren''t that infamous. Will they now ept our request because the crime investigation agencies are crazy?"

    Dolores was troubled by Yousphere''s words.

    ''Why did the Night Hounds attack them?''

    Dolores had done a detailed investigation into the backgrounds of these six bullies in order to expel them.

    ording to the results of the investigation at that time, these six bullies were really frogs in a well, with no scope of activity other than their own territory and academy.

    ''So they don''t have any grudges with the outside world, do they?''

    It seems that the Night Hound has some kind of connection to this academy.

    I had a strong feeling about that.

    Yousphere shuddered, remembering the nightmare of the day.

    "He knew not only our names, but our parents'' names, and the location of our families."

    Dolores did some quick math.

    "If he knows that much about the academy, he can''t be a freshman. He''s at least a sophomore, maybe a senior?

    It''s a theory I''ve been thinking about for a while. This made it even more likely that the Night Hound''s informant was inside the Academy.

    There was even a slim chance that the Night Hound himself could be inside the Academy.

    "...."

    Dolores turned her head and looked down at the Yousphere.

    ...Pas!

    A white light rose up and healed his wounds.

    When Yousphere looked up with a dazed expression, Dolores spoke in a stern voice.

    "You guys. I want you to keep what I''ve just said a secret."

    "What?"

    "Don''t tell anyone, and I''ll take care of it from now on."

    At Dolores''s urging, Yousphere nodded dumbly.

    Perhaps he understood Dolores to be trying to steal the show by reporting their testimony.

    But the more scoundrels like this are, the weaker they are against the strong.

    Yousphere would only be released if he promised to keep his friends in line as well as himself.

    "Remember, if anyone else hears about this, you will be expelled."

    Leaving Dolores bloody threats behind.

 Chapter 234: National University League (1)

    <h4>Chapter 234: National University League (1)</h4>

    There was a strange feeling in the air at the Colosseo Academy, the Empire''s best university.

    The reason for this was the approaching date of a tournament for the Empire''s top universities.

    The National University League.

    An annual event where the four leading universities of the Empiree together to determine their supremacy.

    Colosseo Academy had always been the top-ranked institution in the annual evaluations, but the other three were formidable opponents.

    (Colosseo Academy).

    (Boot Camp Varangian).

    (Magic Tower).

    (Themiscyra Women''s University).

    Hot on the heels of the Colosseo Academy are three other prominent universities, Varangian, Magic Tower, and Themiscyra.

    Varangian is a northern university known for its "Warrior Training Center," a specialized college that specializes in cold weapons such as swords, spears, axes, and bows.

    Magic Tower is another eastern university known for its w vocational school," where those who follow the path of the Mage gather to study.

    They specialize in hot weapons, of course.

    Themiscyra is a southern university with an educational system that most closely resembles the Colosseo Academy.

    Students can choose to specialize in either cold or hot weapons, depending on their talents, aptitudes, and tastes, and can pursue other disciplines as minors, majors, or liberal arts.

    The difference with Colosseo Academy is that enrollment is limited to girls only.

    (except in very rare cases).

    With a showdown between these two great rivals on the horizon, there is a sense of tension in the air at Colosseo Academy.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir, all first-graders at Colosseo, were among the first to admit it.

    "It''s my first time meeting people from other schools."

    "It''s hard to be first, because if you do well, you win, and if you don''t, you lose."

    "I''m a little nervous. Do you think I''ll do well?"

    "What''s the point? You''re doing so well in Colosseo."

    "That''s right, we''re all the same age after all!"

    As new students, they were curious about the culture and academic style of other schools.

    Meanwhile, Sinir and Sancho had taken entrance exams for other schools, so they were getting a lot of stares from other students.

    "By the way, didn''t Sancho get first ce in the Varangian entrance exam?"

    "If those kids see Sancho, they''ll grind their teeth."

    "Why would they grind their teeth?"

    "Of course they will. They ditched their school and went somewhere else. Doesn''t that look good?"

    "Then Sinir''s in even more trouble, because she was first in her entrance exams at Magic Tower and first in her entrance exams at Themiscyra."

    "I don''t know, but I''m sure there are a lot of kids at other schools who are studying with her."

    Sinir was a monster, topping the entrance exams for all the universities with magical faculties, including Magic Tower, Themiscyra, and Colosseo.

    I don''t know, but it seemed certain that she''d get a lot of jealous nces.

    Then. A boy in a ck cloak appeared with an arrogant air.

    "Don''t worry, foolish friends. I will personally attend the tournament and educate you lesser beings."

    It was Grenouille Leviathan.

    He had recently been recruited into the Noble Faction and had be quite a contributor.

    Tudor, who usually thought nothing of Grenouille, sneered.

    "Hey, Pansy, are you going to the tournament too?"

    "What kind of rude thing to say! Don''t you know that there are no grade restrictions in thispetition? Anyone who hasn''t taken the same course more than once, whether they''re a paid student, a deferred graduate, or a repeat student, is eligible topete!"

    "Who doesn''t know?"

    Tudor quickly lost interest and turned his head away, but Grenouille''s admonishing and exnatory temperament seemed to remain.

    "Allow me to exin the nature and rules of thepetition to you idiots."

    1. The official name of thepetition between the four university leagues is the Olympiad Survival Contest, otherwise known as Battle Royale Ground Zero.

    A total of 400 students are dropped into arge, randomized area called the Warp, where they are challenged to survive for a limited amount of time.

    3. Everyone willpete in an HP suit, and the moment this HP reaches zero, they will be automatically eliminated.

    4. The top 10 people who achieved good results in the survivalpetition will be awarded a world-ss artifact stored in a treasure trove jointly managed by the four universities.

    "Now that I''ve exined it to you in such detail, please refrain from holding me back at thepetition site~"

    Grenouille concluded his exnation with a pouting posture.

    Then.

    ...Puck

    Grenouille''s shoulder was hit by something.

    "What the hell, what kind of person dares to touch this jade body...."

    Grenouille turned his head with an annoyed expression.

    Standing there was a tall male student with ck hair and red eyes.

    "What."

    Highbro Baskerville.

    He stared down at Grenouille, the real head of ss B of the Cold Warriors.

    "...."

    Grenouille stared up at Highbro''s face, which was at least two feet taller than his own, for a moment.

    The normally arrogant Grenouille knew. Highbro, a member of ss B of the Cold Warriors, could have a hell of a temper.

    "Oh, no."

    "You''re an asshole."

    The Highbro nced Grenouille up and down once, and then walked away.

    "...."

    "...."

    To make matters worse, he was followed by the stares of Midbro and Lowbro.

    Alone, Grenouille began to shake.

    "Those crazy dogs! If there weren''t three of them, I would''ve kicked their asses! You thugs, you thugs!"

    Everyone was looking at Grenouille with salty eyes.

    Then.

    One more boy came walking down the street from where Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro had passed.

    When Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir saw the face, they shouted in delight.

    "Vikir, over here!"

    "Good morning again, my friend."

    "Good to see you''re so excited, Vikir~"

    "Is that real or not? I mean, with the real student council president?"

    "Ugh! Of course not, he said he wasn''t interested in a rtionship!"

    The friends soon surrounded Vikir and started talking about thepetition.

    "But what about the real love story...?"

    "No, Vikir, it''s not, but this time, there are no grade restrictions. If there are 100 students from each school, there should be about 20 freshmen."

    "Right, because the real aces are the juniors, and it''s customary for the seniors not to participate."

    "Maybe 50 juniors, 30 sophomores, and 20 freshmen?"

    "We had good midterms, so of course we''re in."

    The conversation then turns to Vikir.

    Tudor asks.

    "So, Vikir. What about you? I read that the scores are evaluated individually, but you have to participate in groups. I think it''s groups of five."

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, Sinir, and Vikir.

    With a group size of six, it''s a little difficult to get everyone in a group.

    They''d rather split into three groups of three.

    "Yeah. Let''s make it three-on-three and put two other kids in each group. Okay, Vikir, you''ll be in our group."

    "What''s wrong, why are you taking Vikir?"

    "That''s right, it''s a fair swallow!"

    "I''ll go with Vikir''s group~"

    "That''s cheating! I want to be in the same group as him this time!"

    Everyone wants to be in the same group as Vikir because they''ve been divided into two groups.

    But Vikir has a different answer.

    "Umm. I''m already in the other group."

    "What? Again? You said that during the midterms!"

    "That''s a pre-arrangement. I''m sorry."

    Vikir''s friends were openly frustrated by his answer.

    Sinir was the most obviously upset.

    "I really wanted to be in the same group as you this time."

    "Well. I''m sorry again. This time, I have a very clear sense of purpose."

    Everyone''s eyes widened at Vikir''s words.

    "...Purpose?"

    This was the first time Vikir had ever revealed his true intentions, so everyone forgot about their embarrassment and expressed their curiosity.

    And for some reason, Vikir was happy to answer.

    "I heard that if I ce in the top 10 in thispetition, I''ll get one of the treasures stored in a treasure trove jointly managed by the four universities."

    Vikir said with a rare twinkle in his eye.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir all shook their heads in surprise.

    It was the first time they had ever seen Vikir so tantly want something.

    "Is there some kind of treasure you''re after?"

    "Yes."

    "What is it?"

    "It''s a secret."

    "Oh,e on, I thought you were going to tell me!"

    The impatient Tudor is the first to speak up.

    Sinir, who is usually secretive, also has a glint in her eyes.

    "I''m guessing you''ve got your own artifact you''re after, and so do I. But you know what?"

    "?"

    "It seems that just because you enter the treasure room doesn''t mean you can get the treasure. You have to be chosen by the treasure."

    Artifacts that can be considered world-ss treasures are stored in the treasure troves managed by the four major universities.

    All of these artifacts are said to have spirituality and do not wait for their owners to choose them, but instead choose their owners ande to them.

    Once an artifact finds its owner, it stays with them for the rest of their lives, after which it is returned to storage.

    Sinir smiles broadly.

    "In other words, you have to choose between artifacts that choose you. You can''t always have what you want. Apparently, if you go into a warehouse and you''re not chosen by any artifacts, you just have toe out empty-handed."

    But for Vikir, who has memories from before the regression, none of these restrictions mattered.

    ''I just need to be able to get into the treasure room.''

    He was right, for Vikir''s ultimate purpose was not to possess artifacts, but to destroy them.

    Vikir had an idea of the object he should choose when he entered the treasury.

    ''The Seventh Corpses. It must be sleeping in the treasury.''

    Among the ten demons, he is the only one that exists in the form of an object.

    That was the existence of ''Dekarabia'', the seventh corpse.

 Chapter 235: National University League (2)

    <h4>Chapter 235: National University League (2)</h4>

    Colosseo Academy, Varangian Boot Camp, Magic Tower, and Themiscyra Women''s University.

    There are only a few days left before the National University League, hosted by four prestigious academies.

    Before then, the students of Colosseo Academy embarked on a journey to Magic Tower, the venue of the tournament.

    "Ugh! It''s been so long since I went out~ I''m finally going out of the imperial capital! I thought I would die of frustration because I thought I had to wait until vacation! Although I can''t see the wideke of Usher, I have to be satisfied with this as it is a shame. Of course, a great archer must have a broad insight before a broad vision...!"

    Bianca was humming as she dragged arge suitcase, dressed in a colorful floral shirt, shorts, sunsses, a straw hat, and cool-looking sandals.

    Judging by her moody courtly demeanor, she''s quite excited.

    Tudor spotted her and spoke up.

    "If anyone saw you, they''d think you were going on a vacation somewhere, and then you''d fail your grades and lose the tournament."

    "If you''re saying that, are you wearing a swimsuit under your skirt?"

    "Moo, what are you talking about, are you crazy, how do you know if I''m wearing a swimsuit or not!"

    "Because I saw your skirt pping in the wind earlier?"

    "Hey you pervert, why are you looking at that!"

    "Well, if you look at it that way, you''re more of a pervert for wearing a skirt."

    "Pfft, in our Don Quixote family, men traditionally wear skirts too!"

    "Okay, anyway, I didn''t want to see it, but you forced me to see it while you were walking ahead. And it''s not even panties, but a swimsuit is meant to be exposed anyway."

    "I''m going to sue you!"

    "What are you going to eat, there''s nothing to sue for."

    "I''m going to sue you for insult, asshole!"

    "Then I''ll sue you for injury, too. As if I didn''t already lose my eyesight from seeing you in your swimsuit."

    Tudor and Bianca are still bickering today.

    Sancho, Piggy, and Sinir giggle at their usual behavior.

    "You''re both in high spirits again today."

    "I''m going to hate you if you do that."

    "I think I''ve heard it all before, you two are childhood friends."

    The University League, the Olympiad Survival Tournament, is usually hosted by four universities in a rotating order, and this time it was the turn of Magic Tower, a city in the eastern part of the continent.

    Magic Tower is located in the ''Dortmund Smile'' region in the southeastern part of the continent, which is known for its mild climate and abundant tourist attractions such as deserts, forests, caves, valleys, and the sea.

    To get to this warm and cozy ce, you have to follow a long train track through the Imperial Capital, which is why the students of Colosseo Academy are here at the train station today.

    The Magical Train. This is an enormous train that travels around the entire continent.

    It is a type of gigantic magical tool that uses mana stones ced in furnaces in the front and back carriages to generate firepower.

    This massive artifact, capable of transporting countless people from one end of the continent to the other, was created by thebined efforts of the Empire''s mages and is considered the pinnacle of magecraft.

    The students of the Colosseo Academy are boarding this train today to travel from the Capital to the southeastern part of the continent.

    Capital Station. tform 9 and 3/4

    The train pulls into the tform.

    [Ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding~ The continental cirction train, the continental cirction train, ising in now. This is Imperial Capital, Imperial Capital Station. The exit door is on the right. Please be careful when exiting the train as there is arge distance between the tforms at this station. Thank you for traveling with us today. Goodbye]

    Through the cloudy vapor emitted by the burning mana stones, the giant steel serpent approaches the tform and stops.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir each say a few words.

    "Wow, this is awesome. I''ve never been on a Magic train before."

    "Woo-hoo. Tudor, you have a bit of a hillbilly side to you. I rode it once when I came to enroll."

    "Actually, it''s my first time too, though I''ve used the teleportation scroll once before."

    "Don''t be such an idiot when you get on the train. There are students from Varangian and Themiscyra inside who have traveled from all over."

    "We''re all rivals, so we''ll have to buckle up and not look down on each other."

    The students of the Colosseo Academy stiffened their faces to hide their excitement as they boarded the train.

    The outside of the train, which had traveled a long distance, was hot and hard. The soles of their feet felt warm as they climbed the stairs.

    But once inside, there was no heat at all.

    A space that is always at afortable temperature thanks to magic.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir were a little nervous as soon as they stepped onto the train, expecting to see the enemies they would face in the tournament, but... unfortunately or fortunately, the train was empty.

    "Ah, they''ve even divided up the tform so that only the students of the Colosseo Academy can ride, thispartment is reserved for us!"

    Everyone nodded at Tudor''s words. I was d that an argument hadn''t broken out, but also a little disappointed.

    Then.

    "Huh? There they are!"

    Bianca, who had the eyesight of an archer, reached for the window.

    While the train was stopped, some people had stepped off the tform to buy something or just to look outside.

    They were divided into two groups, one of which was the students, impressive in their thick, solid heavy armor and the chainmail they wore underneath.

    Ny-nine percent of them were well-built men, each carrying a shield, axe, greatsword, or crossbow on their backs.

    They are the students of the Varangian Boot Camp.

    "It''s like a bunch of sanchos. What are you doing not wearing that?"

    "Haha, you''re right. It''s a familiar outfit in the north."

    Tudor looked over at Sancho next to him and smiled, and Sanchoughed in return.

    Meanwhile, on the other side of the room were a group of schoolgirls, wearing white school uniforms and capes with Rose of Sharon on them.

    Ny-nine percent of them were sturdy women, each carrying a shield, axe, greatsword, crossbow, magic wand, or spellbook on their backs.

    They are the students of the Themiscyra Women''s University.

    "...Does it look scary?"

    "I hear the sisters over there are really good at fighting."

    Bianca and Sinir swallowed hard.

    These are the warriors of Varangian and Themiscyra who willpete in this tournament.

    It was clear that it was going to be an uphill battle for them to look so powerful, male, female, and all.

    And then.

    POOH!

    The train set off with the miraculous sound of the mana stones in the furnace burning.

    The giant mass of iron pulsed and stirred with the power of mana.

    The train raced toward the distant magic tower.

    * * *

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir moved to the seats listed on their tickets, and soon found themselves in a chamber-like space, sitting in a circle.

    A round table was ced in the center of the room, and the train was divided into individual writing spaces.

    The students of the Colosseo Academy would now sit or lie down on plush sofas for the long journey ahead.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir looked out the window and marveled at the rapidly passingndscape of the Imperial Capital.

    "Wow, that was fast. I guess we don''t have to use those expensive teleportation scrolls."

    "I''ll go to the canteen and get us some eggs and cider. That''s what you''re supposed to eat on a train trip."

    "Dang, I already packed them!"

    "Oh, Piggy knows what he''s doing."

    "Wow, it''s like we''re going on a school trip!"

    And suddenly. The friends remembered one other friend who wasn''t here.

    Vikir.

    It would have been nice to have him with them, but he wasn''t there, and it was a bit of a drag.

    Tudor was the first to speak.

    "Vikir, you traitorous bastard, you''ve abandoned us again, and this time I''m really sorry!"

    "It''s a pact, and while it''s a shame we couldn''t be in the same group, it''s nice to see you take your promise seriously. I''m sure Vikir would take our promise just as seriously."

    "Where is Vikir''s seat, anyway?"

    "He''s probably in apartment pretty far away from us, right next to the one the Themiscyra kids are in."

    "Hmph, you don''t think something''s going to happen to him?"

    Vikir''s current seat was in a trainpartment a long way back from here.

    And in thepartment directly behind him were the contestants from Themiscyra Women''s University.

    "Don''t you think he''ll get into a fight with them?"

    "Maybe it''s not a fight, maybe it''s a ride."

    "Yes, Vikir is very handsome, and he was already famous outside the Capital."

    "I heard that ...Themiscyra is a women''s university, and they have a very strong desire for handsome men."

    "It''s more like Varangian is an ultra-macho university, so the desire for pretty girls is very strong."

    Vikir''s friends, who had been listening to the story, quickly became concerned.

    "By the way. I''m worried about Vikir in a lot of ways."

    "That''s right. It''s his own people who can make things harder for him than the Themiscyra on the outside."

    "I agree, except for Grenouille... ...."

    "I can''t believe he''s in the same group as Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro, the so-called ''Mad Dogs of the Cold ss''."

    "They must be trying to pick on my brother, they did it during midterms!"

    Vikir''s group was now being referred to as ''Hell''s Group''.

    Highbro Les Baskerville.

    Midbro Les Baskerville.

    Lowbro Les Baskervilles.

    Grenouille Des Leviathans.

    Vikir.

    These five are the same group.

    Grenouille, who is known for his arrogance, and the triplets of the Baskerville family, who are known for their cold-heartedness.

    His friends are worried that Vikir, amoner, may be suffering humiliation and disgrace alone.

    ... but.

    In the back of the train, a very different scene was unfolding from the worries of his friends.

 Chapter 236: National University League (3)

    <h4>Chapter 236: National University League (3)</h4>

    Grenouille Des Leviathans.

    As the third son of the extremely venomous House Leviathan, one of the seven great families of the Empire, he has lived his whole life being respected.

    Raised with the praise and expectations of being the greatest genius in his family, he has never allowed himself to be looked down.

    ...Until he entered the Colosseo Academy.

    Second in the entrance exam rankings. Something was wrong from the start.

    There are limits to achieving a mental victory just because the levels of Hot and Cold ss are different.

    Grenouille looked at the woman who had stepped over him.

    Sinir, amoner without a surname.

    Grenouille decided to ignore this impossible event as the first andst miracle of a lowlymoner''s life.

    But the midterms didn''t change his ranking.

    Looking at Sinir, Grenouille was filled with inferiorityplex and hatred.

    ...But why? The more he struggled, the more strange feelings arose in Grenouille''s heart.

    Or perhaps it had been there since the moment he firstid eyes on her.

    The white hair that stood out wherever she went. The clear skin. Eyes as big as a deer''s. A tight nose and lips.

    Every time he thought of Sinir, he found himself inwardly cheering for her.

    It was ridiculous, he thought, but he couldn''t help it.

    From then on, Grenouille diligently hovered around Sinir, hoping to get one more word in with her.

    When he did, he kicked himself for not being able to say anything more than the stinging words moner..." out of habit.

    And that''s when an unwee presence appeared.

    Vikir. An ordinary(?) guy with nothing special about him.

    At best, he''s a good student and has a pretty face, but he acts like every girl in the school wants his body, liver, and galldder.

    Sinir, who has been watching for a long time, also approaches him with a hint of crush.

    ''No way! This can''t be happening!''

    Grenouille himself was speechless until now, but they are already in a rtionship where they do volunteer work and study together!

    So Grenouille made a decision. He was determined to be in the same group as Vikir in thispetition.

    And with his superiority, he would make Vikir''s inferiority even more obvious.

    ''I''ll humiliate him in front of Sinir!''

    Wouldn''t that make her look at himself a little differently? Wouldn''t she realize who the better, stronger man was?

    That''s what Grenouille thought.

    "...Keuhum!"

    Grenouille took a seat at the head of the round table.

    At the round table were the members of his group for thispetition.

    He handed his luggage to Vikir in front of him and told him to put it in the luggage locker above.

    "Hey,moner. Put my stuff on top of your head...."

    But it was a little too much to ask.

    It wasn''t the Vikir that scared him, it was the humans on either side of him.

    Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro. The three Baskerville brothers.

    They upied the seats on either side of Vikir, and even Grenouille couldn''t help but notice them a bit.

    But Grenouille steeled himself.

    ''All right. Let''s not be scared by these guys. I am the person who will lead this group.''

    The seating arrangement was in a circle: Highbro, Midbro, Vikir, Lowbro, and Grenouille.

    Grenouille skipped over Lowbro next to him and spoke again to Vikir next to him.

    "Hey,moner. Can''t you hear me? Take my stuff and keep it above your head."

    "?"

    Vikir, his eyes closed and deep in thought, opened one eye.

    Grenouille''s luggage was ced in front of him.

    "What are you doing? You''re not taking it."

    "...."

    "Look at this kid? What a dog? What are you doing, believing in your grades during the midterm exam? A lucky child ...Where did you pick up some information about monsters?"

    Then.

    Lowbro, who was standing between Vikir and Grenouille, spoke up.

    "Shut up, you two. It''s loud."

    Grenouille''s expression stiffened at the words.

    ''Shut up? Is that what you''re saying to me?'' I thought.

    This was the first time Grenouille had ever experienced an argument like this.

    Even the seniors in the Noble Faction were frowning at him, and he was the heir to the Leviathan Family!

    "What did you just say?"

    Grenouille asked in disbelief.

    When Lowbro closed his eyes in annoyance and didn''t answer, Grenouille became even more confused.

    "No, I don''t know if it''s Highbro, but now you''ve got toe crawling up on me, even the smallest one?''

    Of the Baskerville triplets, Highbro is by far the most famous.

    He''s the strongest, and he gets the best grades.

    His two younger siblings, Midbro and Lowbro, feel like they''re always following in his footsteps, which is why Grenouille is feeling so much more bewilderment right now.

    ''I can''t do this. If I''m going to take over this group, I need to show some charisma from the start.''

    He closed his eyes and sighed heavily.

    "...Ah, I just got on the train and these assholes are pissing me off again. Hey,moner!"

    Grenouille slumped back in his seat and jerked his chin at Vikir once more.

    "Get a bottle of liquor out of my pack."

    Yes, Grenouille had sneaked a bottle of vodka, a drink that students are not supposed to drink, into his backpack.

    Grenouille crossed his arms with his eyes closed and sneered inwardly at the silent Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro.

    ''What do you think, I''m the kind of bastard who would open a bottle of alcohol in broad daylight on a train to a tournament, and I''m underage!''

    Grenouille unted his bravery and bravado by casuallymitting dangerous levels of deviance.

    "Hey,moner. Get it out. There''s a bottle of vodka in my bag."

    "...."

    But Vikir still didn''t respond.

    Grenouille''s eyebrows twitched.

    If you move here and take out the bottle yourself, everything will be ruined. Even if we drink it, there will be no saving face.

    So I have to move thatmoner somehow to get it.

    "Hey, are you really deaf, hurry up and get it out~"

    At that moment, Lowbro, who was beside him, spoke up once more.

    "What a noisy bastard. You must have ark in your mouth."

    "...What, what?"

    "If you want to drink alcohol, you can take it out and drink it. This isn''t even a joke."

    Grenouille''s face flushed at Lowbro''s words.

    Then.

    "Stop."

    Something stood between them. It was Vikir''s hand, holding a bottle.

    "Here''s your drink. Stop."

    Vikir took the vodka out of Grenouille''s bag.

    Grenouille grunted and snatched the bottle away.

    ...Tsk!

    Grenouille assumed the worst posture he could muster (being careful not to encroach too much on the space of his fellow Highbrow and Lowbrow) and opened his mouth.

    "Ugh, I feel dirty, and I need a drink."

    But no one looks at him or speaks to him.

    Unable to cool his temper, Grenouille gritted his teeth and unscrewed the cap of the vodka bottle.

    "Don''t you people know how to drink?"

    "...."

    "Ha, that''s me. Why, are you afraid you''ll get caught by the inspector if you drink, or are you just a bunch of nerds and it''s no fun?"

    "...."

    "Well, I''m a bit of a drinker, so when Ie to a ce like this, I always wet my throat. Well, it''s only 70 percent alcohol at most, so it''s no different than water, but it''s good."

    Grenouille tilted the vodka bottle and poured a few drops into his mouth, puffing it up with air as if he''d drunk a lot, then gulped a few times.

    Then he opened his mouth as if he had just remembered something.

    "Oh, right. Hey, I''m in charge of this group. Noints?"

    His tone was casual and nonchnt.

    But Grenouille''s nerves were extremely focused on everyone''s reactions.

    ....

    But no one responds. Their eyes are closed, their arms are crossed, and they are simply meditating.

    Grenouille shook his head, not sure if his words had worked or not.

    ''Does this mean you recognize me as the leader? Does this mean I can do whatever I want?''

    So I tried to drive the nail in the coffin one more time.

    "Hmm. Well, it''s a formal event anyway. I''ll just take care of it. I think my performance in thepetition will be good if I lead... ... I also received this kind of education separately from my family, so I am somewhat specialized... And I''m from a noble family, so I''m used to being bossed around...."

    Grenouille continues to reek of alcohol and stutter.

    Just then.

    "keuheum."

    Vikir coughed once. He stood up and walked out of the room.

    Grenouille frowned.

    "I, I, I. Look at the way you move when the boss is talking. If you go to the bathroom or anything, and you don''te back, I''m going to give you a stern warning. ...."

    That was it.

    ...Puck!

    A dull noise was heard.

    Grenouille cocked his head.

    "...?"

    I saw an unbelievable sight.

    Grenouille''s hand was on the round table. A dagger was deeply embedded in the back of his hand.

    Flesh splintered, muscles split, bones shattered, and blood flowed freely.

    Grenouille stood dumbfounded at the unusual sight before him, feeling no pain for a moment.

    And then.

    "Aaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

    The screames a step toote.

    Grenouille tried to move his hand, but the dagger had pierced the back of his hand and the palm of his hand and was now embedded deeply in the round table.

    The one holding the dagger''s handle muttered irritably.

    "I thought I told you to be quiet."

    It was a Lowbro.

    He clicked his tongue and leaned back, picking up the bottle of vodka that Grenouille had dropped.

    He then poured the clear vodka over the back of Grenouille''s hand, which was pierced by a dagger.

    "Aaaahhh!"

    Grenouille screamed in pain as his hand burned.

    Next to him, Lowbro suddenly looks as scary as a ghost.

    I used to think they were funny because they were always in the shadow of the Highbro, but they weren''t.

    In fact, the grades of Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro had always been tied, with only a few points separating them.

    As Grenouille sat there with his hands stuck to the table and tears streaming down his face, Highbro and Midbro opened their eyes and began to giggle.

    "You know, you''re actually pretty funny. Hey, do you want to be secret friends with us?"

    "Let''s go like this without leaving until we reach the magic tower. It''s noisy, so try putting something like a sock in your mouth."

    "I''ve disinfected it, so it shouldn''t be a problem, even if it is. We can call the priest when we get there."

    It was a moment when Grenouille''s n to take the lead early on was derailed spectacrly.

 Chapter 237: National University League (4)

    <h4>Chapter 237: National University League (4)</h4>

    Vikir gave the Baskerville triplets a quick nce and left the room.

    Clink.

    As soon as Vikir left the cabin and closed the door behind him, he heard amotion inside.

    ''''Kwaaaaaa...ub! uub! ub!''

    The screams cut off unnaturally, as if the hounds had understood the meaning of their master''s gesture.

    Now that the pesky Grenouille is gone, the group activities should go off without a hitch.

    Vikir left his cabin and walked out near the seamy passageway that connectspartments topartments on the train.

    There were shops and cafes there, and passengers from otherpartments were milling around.

    Suddenly, Vikir made eye contact with a small girl.

    She was staring at a cake in a ss disy case with a twinkle in her eye, wondering if she wanted to eat it.

    Vikir bought the cake along with a bottle of water.

    The amount of money in his pocket was just right.

    "I must have bought the wrong one by mistake. Eat it if you don''t mind."

    Vikir bent down to make eye contact with the girl and handed her the wrapped cake, and she beamed with delight.

    "Thank you, mister!"

    The girl epted the cake and nted a surprise kiss on Vikir''s cheek.

    Of course, Vikir was able to dodge it with the Swordmaster''s body vision.

    "...."

    Something about hearing the word ''mister'' made him feel strange, so he didn''t dodge the lips on his cheek.

    Just.

    "...It''s not mister, it''s brother."

    I stretched my back and looked at the distant mountains, trying to close the distance I had closed so long ago.

    A girl''s face shed in my mind''s eye like a puffy cloud outside the car window, and then it was gone.

    Then.

    "Mr. .... Surely, you''re not old enough to be called that."

    A calm voice came from behind him.

    Where Vikir turned, Dolores stood.

    Dolores, the student council president, looks stern, stoic, and serious.

    But in her hands are eggs and cider.

    "...."

    "...khem."

    Feeling Vikir''s stare, Dolores quickly hid the eggs and cider behind her back.

    "There are participants from the Themisqyra Women''s University in the wagon back there. I want you to avoid contact with them as much as possible before the tournament, in case they want to make a scene."

    "Understood."

    "...."

    Vikir nodded, and Dolores hesitated, as if she had something more to say.

    Then. A familiar face emerged from the opposite aisle. It was Professor Morg Banshee.

    "Hey, student council president. Professor Sady is not at the head of the line. Have you seen her?"

    "I think I saw her near thepartment with the participants from Varangian."

    "This person can''t do anything right. Why does the principal keep her as a professor?"

    Prof. Banshee was so angry that he openly insulted his colleague in front of the students.

    Professor Banshee then left to find Professor Sady. He dragged Dolores with him, who wanted to talk to Vikir more.

    "Okay, wait a minute, then you can take one more person with you...!"

    Dolores said to Professor Banshee just before leaving Cannes.

    She intended to bring Vikir along on the mission to find Professor Sady. They would have something to talk about.

    But Professor Banshee only shook his head.

    "One more? Who?"

    "He''s here... huh?"

    Dolores''s eyes widened as she turned her head.

    ....

    Because the spot where Vikir was standing just a moment ago was empty.

    * * *

    It almost got annoying.''

    Vikir stood on top of the moving train, facing the wind.

    As soon as he realized that Dolores was about tounch a maneuver, he opened the window, scaled the wall of the train, and climbed up to the ceiling.

    All of this was done in the blink of an eye, like the behavior of a ghost, and no one noticed.

    Vikir walked across the train at a leisurely pace and soonnded at the window of the oppositepartment.

    Luckily, the passageway between thepartments was empty, making it easy for him to get back inside the train.

    ''Halfway between the Colosseo Academy and the Themiscyra Women''s University.''

    This is where the middle section of the train begins, and from here on out, it''s all about the Themiscyra female student group.

    One morepartment back and you''d be in the middle of a sea of girls.

    Thepartment at the back had two floors, and a thin bulkhead blocked the stairs.

    So it was on the second floor of the cabin that Vikir now entered through the window.

    The room for Themiscyra''s female students was generally quiet and smelled of fragrant tea.

    The only sound was elegant heavy metal music, the kind that nobledies might enjoy.

    Vikir stood at the window for a moment, considering his next move.

    First, he had to appease Grenouille, who was treating him like amoner and ignoring him, so that he could continue with the group activities.

    Even though the scores were calcted individually, the initial start was in the form of a group task, so they would have to cry and eat mustard together.

    Of course, Vikir didn''t care about any of that, but... still had to put together an assortment.

    Hence the decision to use the Baskerville triplets.

    ''Why are you so obsessed with origins?''

    Vikir thought for a moment about Grenouille''s attitude.

    Vikir doesn''t know who his mother is.

    He''d heard that she was an actress and dancer who briefly dated Hugo, but that wasn''t exactly urate.

    Vikir''s mind wandered.

    ''Come to think of it, I''ve also heard that there is royalty among the freshmen in this ss of 20.''

    That was also an inurate statement.

    There is a rumor that a royal family member, almost an illegitimate child, who does not know what rank he is in the line of session to the throne, has entered the Colosseo Academy.

    No matter how you slice it, an Imperial is an Imperial, and many were on high alert.

    There were even rumors that some of the professors had already noticed.

    ''Well, it''s none of my business.''

    Vikir closed his eyes and shook off his thoughts.

    He started to walk back to the first floor of the room.

    Then.

    "...?"

    A strange voice called from the stairs.

    Vikir was about to open the door and head out when he paused and listened to the soundsing from the first floor hallway.

    ...?

    The voice was all too familiar.

    * * *

    "Ah, the smell ofmoners."

    "You must have gotten that smell all over my clothes."

    "You should be paying forundry like a human being, not this~"

    "More than that, shouldn''t the first thing you do is apologize for bumping into me?"

    "Oh dear. You''re the top dog at the Great Colosseo Academy, aren''t you?"

    "That''s right, you''re too good to know how to apologize~"

    The girls in Themiscyra''s uniforms red at the wall with frightening eyes.

    And in the corner stood a girl.

    It was Sinir.

    Undaunted, she opened her mouth.

    "We''re supposed to avoid each other in the hallways, and I didn''t, but you didn''t either, so it''s kind of a double whammy, I guess, although I don''t know if you did or didn''t."

    "Oh, so you''re saying you''re the victim now because we both lost different amounts of damage?"

    The girl who had bumped into Sinir fiddled with the scarf on her shoulder in disbelief.

    It was an expensive looking scarf at first nce.

    "My dear. You don''t realize you''re amoner. This one would cost you three semesters of tuition at your school just to have it cleaned. It''s limited edition, limited edition!"

    Now ring at Sinir was Merlini Lovegood, a senior at Themiscyra Woman''s University, and president of the student council.

    The Merlini family was one of the wealthiest and most prominent families in the empire, and they were also members of the House of Bourgeois, a distinction that came with a great deal of prestige.

    As a member of the family, Lovegood was a very proud student.

    She was also very proud of the fact that she was a student at Themiscyra Women''s University, which gave her a bit of a hooligan attitude.

    Maybe that''s why?

    When Lovegood met Sinir, she confronted her quite openly.

    ''You''re telling me you topped our Themiscyra''s entrance exams and then went to another school, you cheeky little bastard....''

    Beyond that, being top of the ss at Magic Tower and top of the ss at Colosseo is something to be frowned upon.

    In fact, Lovegood had taken the entrance exams for Themiscyra Women''s University at the same time as she took the entrance exams for Colosseo Academy, and had failed to make the top of the ss.

    So when she met Sinir here today, she was happy to see her, and tried to argue with her.

    But.

    "Oh, that scarf? I know what it sells for, it''s a limited edition, but it''s old and it depreciates a lot, so it fetches a really low second-hand price. I''m sure it''s not as much as you say...?"

    Sinir opened his mouth to speak in an amused tone.

    Then Lovegood snapped.

    "That''s ridiculous! Sometimes pre-owned itemsmand a premium! This was actually worn by a famous singer! This was actually worn by the actor G-Pistol! Don''t you know about celebrity premiums?"

    "Well, if it''s worth a premium because it was worn by a celebrity of that caliber, then it''s worth the original brand value."

    Sinir''s response was unexpectedly cold and sharp.

    Her normally smiling face was now dry and cold, without a trace of a smile.

    A line of blood stood on Lovegood''s forehead.

    "No, but this little brat has been cheekily talking down to the senior from earlier...!"

    "Auntie, you''re not a senior in our school, are you?"

    "Oh, auntie?"

    "Even though you''re quite a senior, is it the code of Themiscyra to persecute a freshman from another school like this, especially one who entered early?"

    "Wow! this...!?"

    "If this is the way of Themiscyra, then I have noment."

    Sinir said softly.

    "...I''m d I didn''t go to that school."

    It was the final blow.

    Then the girls from Themiscyra, including Lovegood, began to surround Sinir with stern looks on their faces.

    "You, you!"

    Lovegood shuddered and drew his wand from his back.

    It was a clunky iron club with a starburst on the end, and the mana glowed pink and bright.

    It looked like Lovegood was preparing some kind of magic.

    And Sinir''s eyes widened, ready to meet Lovegood''s attack.

    And then.

    ...POP!

    The mana from Lovegood''s wand was instantly scattered.

    "Enough."

    Arge shadownded in front of Sinir.

    Lovegood took a half-step backward, startled by the ck curtain in front of him.

    Vikir.

    He stood between Sinir and Lovegood, gripping the doorknob of the passageway.

 Chapter 238: National University League (5)

    <h4>Chapter 238: National University League (5)</h4>

    "..., huh, bro?"

    Sinir looked puzzled. It was a rare urrence.

    Vikir looked down at Sinir wordlessly.

    He had grown quite a bit since he had entered the school, and now there was quite a height difference between them.

    Finally, Vikir''s mouth opened briefly.

    "Door."

    For a moment, Sinir didn''t understand what Vikir was saying.

    And then.

    "Oh, get out of the way so I can open the door, okay, sorry!"

    Sinir took arge step to the side.

    Finally, Vikir nodded, opened the door, and stepped out across thepartment.

    And then.

    "...."

    Vikir didn''t close the door after he crossed the divide, but kept it open.

    Sinir nodded again.

    "Oh, so you want me to stop arguing with students from other schools and just get over here?"

    At Sinir''s interpretation, Vikir nodded in silence.

    ''There are participants from Themiscyra Women''s University in the carriage back there, and I want you to avoid contact with them as much as possible before the tournament, in case they want to challenge you.''

    I can''t pretend I didn''t see the conflict, given Dolores'' advice earlier.

    And Sinir had been a regr source of help with the genealogy and scope of the note test.

    Just then.

    Vikir was grabbing Sinir to take her away.

    "Wait! Who are you to interfere in women''s affairs!"

    The female students of Themiscyra began to protest Vikir.

    At the forefront of the chorus was Ms. Lovegood, the student council president.

    She turned to Vikir and said sternly.

    "This boy has insulted our school, and we need him to y nice with us. If you interfere with that, you will be held ountable. First, give us your ss number, your affiliation, and your name. I''m making a formalint to the Colosseo Academy...."

    Lovegood was just about to dere war on Vikir.

    Whirring-

    A gust of wind rushed in from the second floor window that Vikir had opened.

    It rushed down the stairs and blew the hair of the people on the first floor all over the ce.

    And Vikir''s as well.

    Fluttered.

    The hem of his ck coat fluttered, and soon his tousled ck hair fell back as well.

    Vikir''s bare face was exposed.

    For a moment, the faces of the students at Themiscyra Women''s University went nk.

    They didn''t know what they were seeing or what they were staring at.

    "What is that?"

    "Is that a human face?"

    "How is it so small?"

    "But it''s got all the features in it...."

    "And it''s so clear and deep."

    "Isn''t it a painting or a statue?"

    After a moment of silence, I hear a small murmur from behind me.

    ... but only one. Only Lovegood, the student council president of Themiscyra, remained unmoved.

    "Oh, I forgot, in order to resolve this dispute with the University amicably, I need to ask you for some personal information again. First of all, your ss number, your affiliation, your name, and...."

    Lovegood remained calm, cool, and rational as she asked Vikir for the procedurally necessary information.

    "Year, month, and city of birth. Height. Weight. Blood type. Hometown. Horoscope. Love interests. Hobbies. Specialties. Favorite foods. Animals you own. Do you currently have a girlfriend, and if not, do you have a crush? What type of woman do you usually idealize? When was yourst rtionship. How many rtionships have you had so far. When do you n to get married. What your parents like to receive as gifts. How many children you would like to have. Whether I want a boy or a girl. And whether I''m a good name match. And...."

    Really. It''s necessary. It must have been a bureaucratic procedure to ask.

    * * *

    The Magic Train had finally arrived at the Magic Tower in the eastern part of the continent.

    [Ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding~ The continental cirction, continental cirction train is now entering. This station is Magic Tower, Magic Tower Station. The exit door is on the left. For passengers who are transferring to Dortsmail Station, please transfer to the inner ring train here. Please be careful when exiting the train as there is arge distance between the tforms at this station. Thank you for riding our trains today. Goodbye]

    The train stops for a while.

    The passengers inside begin to trickle out.

    Naturally, there were students from the Colosseo Academy, Varangian Boot Camp, and Themiscyra Women''s University mixed in with the crowd.

    They were greeted by a weing crowd from Magic Tower who came out to greet them at the station.

    Meanwhile. Vikir also got off the train and looked around.

    Behind the masses of people, the city was quiet.

    Dortsmile City in the southeastern part of the empire is also famous as the area where the Magic Tower exists.

    The cozy city is bathed in a reddish sunset, making it even more dreamy and idyllic.

    And in the center of the city, I saw a soaring tower that seemed to pierce the sun.

    ''... That''s the Magic Tower.''

    Vikir stared at the tower in the distance, overwhelmed with emotion.

    At first nce, it is just a narrow and tall building.

    But inside, the tower was filled with so many different rooms that its width and height were endless.

    The interior space of the tower, said to have been created by a primordial mage, must be nearly infinite.

    It involved a dimensional distortion of such a high order that even modern mages do not fully understand its principles.

    ''I have something simr.''

    Vikir looked down at the ring on his finger.

    / Ring

    -Finit hic Deus -Off

    -Finit hic Deus, the realm of the gods ends here.

    It is a relic from Andromalius that can warp dimensions and create subspace.

    However, once used, it is very costly in mana, and the time it takes for the power to return is very long, so it should not be abused.

    Vikir is looking down at his ring, thinking about this and that.

    "...Hey, bro."

    A hand patted Vikir''s back from behind. It was Sinir.

    She hesitated for a moment, then smiled, looking like her usual self.

    "Thanks for your help earlier."

    Vikir nodded, and Sinir let out a small sigh.

    "Actually, I was very scared. They seem like strong sisters."

    "I was scared too."

    "Ahahaha- lie."

    Sinir smiled brightly as usual and pulled on Vikir''s cor.

    "I know. You must have been nervous, too. It was Lovegood, after all."

    When Vikir didn''t respond, Sinir spoke up.

    "Oh, look, there''s the wee party from Magic Tower, meeting the contestants from Varangian and Themisqyra."

    Sure enough, the contestants from the four schools were gathering together.

    At the head of the line was Dolores L Quovadis, the student council president of Colosseo Academy.

    She led the students with her calm, gentle charisma and soon found herself in the center of the weing crowd.

    "It''s been a while, everyone."

    In the direction of Dolores'' greeting, the student council presidents of the other three schools stepped forward.

    First to step forward was the student council president of Varangian.

    He was tall, with shaggy long hair, muscr, and covered in scars.

    "Wahahaha-it''s been a while, hasn''t it been a little less than a year?"

    He was ''Juragio Bakiraga'', the Varangian student council president.

    He had been participating in the tournament since his freshman and sophomore years and had consistently ced in the top tier, but this time, as the third-year ace, he was going for the win in earnest.

    And his fierce rival was at the forefront of the weing crowd at the Magic Tower.

    His face is clean-shaven, his height is perfect, and he exudes a chilling aura.

    "Eleven months and three days, to be exact. Eleven hours, 42 minutes, and 12 seconds. From the time Istid eyes on you atst year''s tournament to the time I spotted your face in the crowd just moments ago."

    "Philippus Aureolus Theophrastus Bombast von Hohenheim," the student council president of Magic Tower.

    But instead of using the name Hohenheim or the surname Aureolus, he mostly used his baptismal name, which is unique to the Magic Tower.

    ''A smart-ass with a high nose.'' This was Hohenheim''s current name.

    There is a tradition at Magic Tower where seniors give baptismal names to their juniors, and the students at Magic Tower use these baptismal names more than their real names over the course of four years: "The Talented Piglet," "The Curly Broom," "The Baby Bird in the Lecture Hall," "The Palm Tree in the Hallway," "The Curiosity Clogging the Toilet," "The Drunken Gori," "The Dwarf in the sk," etc.

    It was a culture that showed how much pride they had.

    "This is actually why I didn''t go to the Magic Tower. ...I don''t know if they''d call me a ''fluffy cotton ball'' or not."

    Sinir whispered in Vikir''s ear.

    Meanwhile.

    Hohenheim and Bakiraga began to exchange nces as soon as they saw each other.

    Bakiraga spoke first.

    "Hahaha- we''re the aces this time. Last year we didn''t make it to the top 10 because the seniors yed so much, but this year will be different. I''ve been training like crazy for the past year, the championship is mine!"

    "Well, with your ignorant strength, you might be able to get a top ten finish, but no more than that. Our elite will take the first through ninth spots, and the artifacts are ours."

    Hohenheim is equally confident.

    Naturally, a ''warriors vs. wizards'' matchup was forming.

    "...."

    Vikir watched the confrontation from the crowd in the distance.

    Sinir gave Vikir a quick rundown on the two men next to him.

    "Juragio Bakiraga is a warrior known for his fierceness. Apparently he took over the school when he beat up all the fourth years in a senior-freshman assembly. I''ve heard that the only thing hecks is experience, and now that he''s in his third year, he should have some of that."

    "Well, he certainly looks strong."

    "Abination of natural talent and hard work, I suppose. Rumor has it his grandparents were barbarians who lived in the depth of the Red & ck Mountains, but I''m not sure."

    Sinir shifted her gaze to look at the man beside her.

    "Actually, Bakiraga is also a figure of interest, but... I''m a mage, so I''m more concerned about that Hohenheim guy."

    "I see."

    "That''s right. Not even the great President Dolores could beat him in the entire University League. And Hohenheim has already been epted to graduate school. I''m told he''ll automatically be appointed to a professorship at Magic Tower, and I hear he''s aiming to be the youngest Magic Tower Master ever."

    A Master of the Magic Tower is a position that isparable to the head of a House of the Seven Families.

    Hohenheim was certainly an ambitious man.

    Sinir continued.

    "I''d like to see a first and second ce tie between myself, Hohenheim, and Bakiraga, with a high probability of third ce going to our President Dolores. Fourth ce would be Lovegood of Themiscyra."

    Now that I think about it, I don''t see Themiscyra''s Lovegood.

    Sinir looked up and around.

    ...?

    And there it was.

    Merlini Lovegood. And the female warriors of Themiscyra who followed her.

    Their faces, usually solemn, stern, and serious, seemed slightly nk today for some reason.

 Chapter 239: National University League (6)

    <h4>Chapter 239: National University League (6)</h4>

    It wasn''t until after the opening ceremony, the wee ceremony, and other showy events organized by Magic Tower that the students of the Colosseo Academy were allowed to go to their dormitories, which were really more for the professors than for the students.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir traveled to their dorms in a group.

    "Man, the headmaster of Magic Tower is a jingle bird. What kind of hostess speech is he giving for over two hours?"

    "Thest time he said he had one more thing to say was over 300 times. Even my personal trainer doesn''t count like that."

    "I''m exhausted before thepetition even starts. You say this is for students, but you don''t really care about them."

    "Where''s the principal of our school, I haven''t seen him in all my years of schooling."

    "I heard he''s been away a lottely, so Professor Banshee, who just got promoted to vice principal, is here as acting principal."

    Everyone is tired as they walk away.

    But the sight of the dormitory rejuvenates them.

    "Wow, is this where we''re staying?"

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, Sinir, and the rest of the Academy''s first years couldn''t believe their eyes.

    Buildings that looked like they''d been carved out of the inside of a giant mushroom dotted thendscape, high and low.

    The walls, which are indeed mushroom-like, are so stic and soft that you want to rub your cheeks against them.

    Fireflies dot the narrow, winding alleys, and naturalnterns light up the streets, never going out overnight.

    I felt like I was in a fairy tale vige.

    The interior of the building is also very spacious and cozy.

    Long tables and chairs carved out of logs, and a buffet of foodid out on them, were still warm and steaming, waiting for guests.

    The smells of grilled silver trout, steamed oysters, roasted pork and hard cheeses wafted through the air, both sweet and fragrant.

    A ss of white wine and a ss of red wine, both nearly alcohol-free, greeted the students.

    (Unfortunately, there was no wine buffet)

    The 20 first graders, 30 second graders, and 50 third graders at Colosseo Academy sat down at their tables and began to eat.

    We were divided into tables of 5 people to share the food.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir looked up from their delicious food to see what was going on around them.

    "Where''s Vikir?"

    "Oh, over there. At the table across the way. Diagonally."

    "He''s in a group with the triplets from Baskerville, do you think he''ll be okay?"

    "Dude, is he a kid? What are you so worried about? Did you forget his grade on the midterm? He did way better than us. He''s not going to take a beating, so stop worrying."

    "He''s not the kind of kid to be pushed around. He saved me from the Themiscyra kids before, so let''s just focus on our job."

    For now, a thorough analysis of the uingpetition is in order.

    We don''t know what the venue will be, but the 400 people who will bepeting for survival there have already signed up.

    20 freshmen, 30 sophomores, 50 seniors. 100 total.

    This is how the grades are distributed not only in Colosseo Academy but also in Varangian, Magic Tower, and Themiscyra.

    And out of these 400 students, seniors are usually the highest performers, followed by sophomores, and then freshmen.

    In fact, first-year students are participating for the sake of experience, so participation itself is meaningful, and second-year students are also encouraged to grow further bypeting with third-year students from other schools.

    And it''s the seniors who have the obligation to bring honor to their school by performing well.

    In the history of thepetition so far, the top 10 yers, including the winner, have always been among third-year students, and inst year''spetition, the four geniuses who were unusually ranked in the top 20 despite being sophomores were the strongest candidates for the championship.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir each had a word.

    "Let''s see. Guess who made it to the top 20st year even though they were only sophomores?"

    "Juragio Bakiraga from Varangian, Hohenheim from Magic Tower, Merlini Lovegood from Themiscyra, and our school''s president, Dolores."

    "Our president was a sophomore then, too, so now that she''s a third year, I guess you could say she''s a serious contender!"

    "Well, sophomores must have made a good save even in the middle. The freshmen will have to mop the floor."

    "But we have to do better than the freshmen at other schools, so we can carry that ranking over to next year and the year after that!"

    The unspoken math among seniors is that the ranking you get as a freshman usually carries over into your senior year.

    So Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir were eager not to lose out to their peers from the other three schools.

    "We''re one of the 20 most talented people in the first grade, hand-picked from the top of the ss, and we can''t let this opportunity go to waste."

    "First of all, the first mission is a survivalpetition, where the ten people who survive to the end and get good scores will receive individual tasks, and if they clear them, they can receive legendary artifacts, right?"

    "Let''s analyze the key yers first."

    "That''s right. If we''re unfortunate enough to meet third years from other schools, we''ll be eliminated at lightning speed, so we need to be in the top 100."

    "First of all, Bakiraga, Hohenheim, and Lovegood. Those three must be avoided at all costs."

    Sinir had already had an argument with Lovegood on a train, so she knew her fears.

    ''Honestly, I was really scared, because I thought I was going to choke to death just from the amount of momentum she was exuding,''

    Soon, Sinir was passing on her analysis to other friends.

    "''Juragio Bakiraga''. 25 years old. A fighter who had already beaten all the fourth year students in his freshman year. Inst year''s tournament, he was defeated by abination of third-year students from another school due to hisck of experience, and the year before, he was stabbed in the back by seniors from the same school, which prevented him from cing in the top 10. Despite this, he was ranked 14th in the overall rankings ofst year''s tournament. His main weapon is a greatsword. Last year''s power level was Sword Expert Supetive, and now it''s impossible to guess. There are even rumors that it is already on the Graduator."

    "Hmph. If you were defeated by a group of seniors from your own school, you were defeated by an ally, so your credibility within the school is not strong?"

    Sinir shook his head at Tudor''s question.

    "No. That was in first and second year. Bakiraga is said to be strong for the strong and weak for the weak, so he''s very good with his peers and juniors. He can''t stand injustice or bad behavior, so he fights for them when they''re being victimized. So even though he may not get along with the seniors, he is very close to his peers and juniors. He''s a senior now, which is actually the highest grade, and he''s the student council president, so he''s trusted by everyone."

    Juragio Bakiraga leads the men of Varangian with overwhelming force and trust.

    Now that he has ovee his only two shorings, experience and teamwork, he is a stronger candidate for the championship than anyone else.

    Piggy then spoke up.

    "I''ve been analyzing the student council president of Magic Tower, Aureolus Hohenheim. He''s 22 years old. His baptismal name at Magic Tower is ''A smart-ass with a high nose'' and he is, without question, the strongest student in Magic Tower, and no student in thest hundred years of Magic Tower''s history has ever outperformed him. Last year, when he was a sophomore, he ranked 13th in the University League, and everyone else was a junior. Even our president, Dolores, lost to him in thest two University League games... I suppose it''s inevitable since they''re different."

    Monstrous talent, arrogant temper.

    Hohenheim is a genius who is considered the strongest among his peers in the Empire, let alone the Magic Tower.

    Despite the university''s rankings, Bakiraga and Hohenheim were clearly the next generation of absolute powerhouses.

    And there''s one more dark horse that can''t be ignored.

    Bianca, who has a thing for pretty girls, opens up about who she''s been researching.

    "Not to mention my research on the student council president of Themiscyra, Merlini Lovegood."

    "Oh, right. What have you been researching?"

    "She''s... pretty."

    "?"

    "Too pretty."

    "??"

    "I don''t know how she can be so pretty, ha ha... I envy her. I want to be like her."

    "????"

    Hearing Bianca''s words, Tudor frowned in disbelief.

    "Hey, never mind. I''d rather have more detailed information about what I''ve been researching. Hmmm! Merlini Lovegood, age 23. Mage who specializes in grass, dirt, poison, and bug-type magic. She is the eldest daughter of the Merlini family, a veryrge and powerful family, and is rumored to have already reached the 4th ss, although this is not confirmed. Last year''s tournament result was 16th ce, and now that she''s in her third year, she''s hoping to win."

    "She''s also known for her beauty. I heard that she is a dancer in a famous theater troupe as a hobby. She might make her debut next year... I''m personally a fan."

    Sancho added some seemingly useless information to Tudor''s description.

    By now, Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir had finished their character analysis and began to share their thoughts on thepetition.

    "What do you think President Dolores will ce this time? She was 15th inst year''spetition."

    "Of course she''ll win! I believe in her."

    "But Bakiraga and Hohenheim are too strong, and Lovegood is as good as President Dolores."

    "Well, it''s not the third-year aces, it''s us."

    "Yeah, we''ll just watch and learn and get ready for the league next year and the year after!"

    Being freshmen, they didn''t seem to have high expectations.

    ... but.

    There is one position in thepetition where you have to finish in the top 10 to win a prize.

    ''Don''t be too harsh... ... I should rank within the top 10.''

    It was Vikir.

    Thinking that his ssmates would be horrified if they heard it, Vikir made a n for the future.

    The seventh corpse, ''Dekarabia''.

    The only one of the ten demons to take the form of an object.

    Demonse in many forms and varieties, including worms, snakes, humans, bats, and trees, but the most unusual of them all is the one that takes the form of an inanimate object.

    It must be sleeping somewhere in the human realm right now, waiting for someone to wake it up.

    And Vikir had a vague idea of its location.

    ''It is in the Treasure Vault, which is jointly managed by the four universities.''

    This was why the demons had been so relentless in their invasions of the Four Academy before the Return.

    But if Vikir could locate and eliminate Decarabia faster than the demons could, their bleak future would be much different.

    The students, who would otherwise have died unjustly, would be spared.

    ''With this, the age of destruction will be dyed one step further.''

    With fewer demons, there is less power to feed the gates to the Demon World.

    Vikir was lost in thought, contemting the distant future.

    "...I beg your pardon."

    A voice caught everyone''s attention, including Vikir''s.

    It was the owner of therge inn, and he was looking very troubled and apologetic.

    "There''s a problem with the water supply at the inn next door... and I was wondering if I could put the people staying there in the empty rooms here? I''m a bit short on rooms."

    The owner kept bowing his head and making difficult requests.

    The inn next door is run by his younger brother, but the water pipe suddenly broke and there was no water, making it impossible to receive guests for the day.

    The owner wanted to send the guests to the other inn as soon as possible, but the Colosseo Academy had already pre-booked all the spare rooms, so it was a difficult situation for the owner.

    It was the peak vacation season, and there were no rooms avable at other inns.

    So the innkeeper bent over backwards to ask for a favor.

    "Since you have booked a total of 120 rooms for students and staff of Colosseo Academy with extra rooms, I was wondering if you would be willing to change your reservation to a single room for two people... and use only 60 rooms in total. In return, I will only charge you 30% of the total amodation fee and provide breakfast and lunch."

    It was a good offer.

    The students weren''t too thrilled about the reduced rate, but the professors were.

    "This will save us some money."

    "We could use the money to buy other textbooks."

    "That''s great, I was just looking for a newb specimen to show my students."

    Professor Banshee nodded.

    "Let''s do that. But only if at least 90% of the ss approves."

    A vote was taken.

    A straw poll was taken, and an astounding 93% of the students voted in favor of the double upancy rooms.

    Not only are the students at Colosseo Academy generally good-natured, but the friendships between students are also strong.

    "Ahhh, thank you, thank you, thank you!"

    The owner of the inn bowed his head several times, and then called therge group of guests waiting outside the door.

    And then.

    "...!"

    The Colosseo students were faced with a group of people they hadn''t expected, and to a certain extent, had been anticipating.

 Chapter 240: National University League (7)

    <h4>Chapter 240: National University League (7)</h4>

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir stopped eating and frowned.

    "Ugh, those guests from outside were Varangians? I was hoping it was the Themiscyras."

    "Obviously, if there''s arge group of guests besides us at this time of year, they''re either Varangians or Themiscyra."

    "Wow. The inn seems so cramped now that the Varangians are here. Is it because they''re all so big? The average height must be about 195 cm."

    "Ugh, I''m suffocating. I smell sweat. I feel like it has be ten times narrower."

    "They must have been training somewhere, the way they''re sweating."

    As expected, the people who entered the inn were students from the Varangian Academy.

    "Yikes. Thank goodness we found a ce to stay."

    "I was already worried about being homeless before the tournament even started."

    "The kids from Colosseo Academy are nice. Thanks, guys!"

    "Hahaha- I''m more worried about my stomach, so let''s eat!"

    "Oooh, all-you-can-eat, great, ready for battle!"

    The men of the Varangian made a beeline for the rice as soon as they entered their quarters.

    The students of the Colosseo took up the eastern half of the spacious banquet hall, while the Varangians upied the remaining western half.

    "Now, let''s scoop up the food."

    At the head of the line of Varangian students was a man.

    Juragio Bakiraga.

    His massive frame and the scars all over his body made him look like a giant beast.

    He stretched his pincers towards the meat on therge tter in front of him.

    As he helped himself to the food, the students of the Colosseo Academy stared, secretly wondering how much meat he would devour.

    ... but.

    "This should fill me up."

    With a single movement of his pincers, Bakiraga picked up a few pieces of meat and ced them on a small te.

    The Colosseo students gave him a surprised look.

    They were surprised that Bakiraga, who looked like he could eat an entire cow by himself, only ate the average portion of a girl''s meal.

    The Varangian students, however, had a different reaction.

    "Oh, Mr. President, you''re eating a lot today."

    "You''re eating 1.5 times more than usual."

    "That''s not good for your stomach."

    "Well, maybe he''s going to work off some of that sweat with a personal training sessionter."

    What is this response? Does this mean that Bakiraga usually eats a little more here?

    The looks on the faces of the students in the Colosseo became even more puzzled.

    ...Boom!

    Bakiraga suddenly ced the meat on the small te down on the buffet table.

    Then he said.

    "I''ll eat well then."

    He lifted all the remaining meat from the huge buffet te.

    With what seemed like dozens of kilograms of meat at his disposal, Bakiraga devoured them all in the blink of an eye.

    "...."

    A strange silence fell over the students of the Colosseo.

    They were speechless with the fact that Bakiraga could consume what seemed like a month''s worth of food in a matter of minutes.

    With that, the Varangian students began to raid the buffet in earnest.

    "Food is all about turnover, so keep the meating!"

    "The first five minutes of the meal is the most crucial time to eat as much as possible, otherwise you can''t eat much!"

    "We are quantity over quality!"

    "Meat after marching is the elixir of immortality!"

    As the muscr hulkse and go, the food melts like ice cubes thrown in the sun.

    Meanwhile.

    "...."

    Vikir watches Bakiraga eating at the table across from him.

    Vikir''s attention was drawn to the choker stuffed around his neck.

    "Did you say your grandparents were from the Red and ck Mountains?

    The barbarian aura emanating from Bakiraga''s body was indeed vaguely familiar.

    ''Perhaps there is some connection.''

    Vikir fiddled with the choker around his neck.

    Just then.

    "Hey, what are we supposed to eat when you guys are done?"

    "Is this dirty bastard crazy?"

    The sound of arguing came from the center of the room.

    Two boys were arguing in the center of the room.

    A student from the Colosseo''s cold ss and another student from Varangian were arguing over the line at the buffet.

    "Why do you cut in and take the food! And sweep it all away!"

    "It''s because I''m sick to my stomach at the sight of you carrying your food with tongs, and you''re not going to eat it all anyway."

    "That doesn''t mean you can ignore the line!"

    "There''s no line at the buffet!"

    When you''re in a long line at a buffet, and the person in front of you is munching away, and you want to eat something other than the food in front of you, should you push past him or her to get ahead?

    This is a long-standing debate that goes back to ancient times.

    Eventually, the two schoolboys from Colosseo and Varangian began to confront each other in a harsh manner.

    "Oh, you meatball, your argument is nonsensical. Is your brain all muscle?"

    "I was going to let it slide because I''m afraid I''ll lose muscle if I get angry, but I guess I''ll just have to chew on more anchovies."

    Their usations weren''t directed at the other person individually, but at each others'' group respectively, so naturally, their friends joined in.

    "This is why we shouldn''t have let those muscle fools in. We were being kind by turning a single upancy room into a double upancy room, and now they are not even thanking us for it!"

    "What do you care? We paid our tuition and came here too. The inn we booked had a problem and the owner sent us here, so why should we care about you? We''re customers too!"

    "If we didn''t make concessions, you guys would have to sleep outside!"

    "Haha, you made concessions, your professors and our professors know each other and we agreed not to fight."

    "We voted on whether or not to let you in! 93% voted in favor, and you dare betray that favor!

    "Then you must be the 7% who voted against it, haha- we''re mercenaries in the first ce, so we''re used to sleeping outside! Vote again if you want, we can leave!"

    At this point, a burly schoolboy from the Varangian side stepped forward.

    Bolly Bson. He was from a mercenary guild in the north and was currently a first-year student at the Varangian Academy.

    At 217 centimeters tall and 150 kilograms, he was not far behind Bakiraga.

    As Bson stepped forward, the boys from Colloseo Academy flinched and took a half step back.

    "What''s all the excitement about? Are these anchovies pping around too much?"

    Bson purposely holds his head high and looks around, pretending to see no one.

    The boys from the Colosseo are all looking at him with annoyance because of the huge height difference.

    But there''s one who''s not too far out of his league.

    "Can''t we have a quieter meal?"

    It was Sancho Barataria, stepping to the front of his cowering friends.

    With the big Sancho stepping up to the front, Brson couldn''t help but feel a little smug.

    But that didn''t end the argument.

    "...Oho. Who is this?"

    Bson recognized Sancho''s face.

    "Isn''t this the coward who ran away after Varangian''s entrance exam? How''s Colosseo Academy? Is it as cozy as a cradle? Are the people kind enough to be nice to a runaway coward?"

    Apparently, he was unhappy that Sancho had gone to the Colosseo Academy even though he had ranked first in the Varangian''s entrance exam.

    What''s more, Sancho had ranked first in Varangian Academy but only ranked fifth in the Colosseo Academy, and he had taken the risk of going to Colosseo Academy.

    The fact that a talented freshman chose Colosseo Academy over Varangian made it seem like there was a clear distinction between the two schools.

    The Varangians were understandably unhappy.

    "Hmm, I guess you were in good shape when you took the Varangian entrance exam and you weren''t in good shape when you took the Colosseo entrance exam?"

    Sancho nonchntly replied to Bson''s prodding.

    "No, it was the other way around."

    "...what?"

    "I was in the best shape when I took the Colosseo entrance exam, and I was in the worst shape when I took the Varangian entrance exam, and I still got those scores."

    At that, the fists of several Varangian hooligans, including Bson, began to shake.

    "Where did this bastard... sell his northern pride?"

    "Are you crazy, Sancho, do you think you won''te back to the North after you graduate?"

    "If youe from a mercenary family, have the pride of a mercenary family, at least you shouldn''t be ashamed of it!"

    "You''re such a dumbass after eating something warm and sleeping in the Imperial Capital, haha!"

    But Sancho had friends who wouldn''t stand by and let him be criticized alone.

    "Is there a barn around here where you can just hear the pigs squealing?"

    "Tu, Tudor, cut the personal attacks..."

    "Personal attacks, my foot. He''s right, the inn has been smelling like a barn since they came in."

    "It''s fine to be proud of your group, but don''t demean other groups."

    Tudor, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir were now standing in front of Sancho.

    "Huh, look at these anchovies, are their heads well?"

    Bson opened his mouth in disbelief.

    "Anchovies? Head? Is that what you are calling us?"

    "Us?"

    "Us?"

    An eerie, low voice sounded from the side.

    Across the table from Bson, who flinched and backed away, stood the three brothers, Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro.

    With the National University League just around the corner, rumors of the three mad dogs of Baskerville were well known to the Varangian''s students.

    This made even the most confident Bson nervous.

    Among the Varangian first-year students, there were not many who could meet the gaze of Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro with a straight face.

    "Are those the tridents of the Baskervilles?"

    "They''re assholes, just like I heard. Look at that murderous look in their eyes."

    "They''re the ones who got into a fight with that Varangian third year student at thest festival?"

    "Yeah. He was a senior in our sports team, and he got beaten up ... and was pretty beat up."

    "I heard on the train that they were giggling andughing with a dagger in the back of one of the guys'' hands?"

    Rumors of the personality and skills of the ''Trident of Baskerville'' were already widespread among all schools. So most people see them as the top powers of Colosseo.

    (Grenouille, who is secretly standing next to Sinir, may not agree with what they say)

    Meanwhile, Bson was annoyed that he had been pushed back from his confrontation.

    He blurted out, not wanting to admit he was momentarily overwhelmed.

    "I am Bolly Bson, a first-year Varangian student! I challenge Colosseo''s strongest first-year to a showdown! Let''s fight like warriors!"

    Bson scanned the room and glowered at Tudor, Bianca, Sancho, Sinir and the Baskervilles'' triplets, his fighting spirit zing.

    But.

    "...."

    "...."

    "...."

    "...."

    "...."

    "...."

    "...."

    No one answered him.

    The brave aspiring knight Tudor, the always noble Bianca, the smart genius Sinir, and even the foul-tempered three brothers of the Baskerville family.

    "...?"

    Then the Varangian students, including Bson, turned their heads.

    Their eyes first followed those of the Colosseo students, who were all looking at the same spot.

    And there it was.

    "...."

    There was a boy eating in silence, not paying any attention to themotion.

    It was Vikir.

 Chapter 241: National University League (8)

    <h4>Chapter 241: National University League (8)</h4>

    Bolly Bson, the first-year representative from Varangian.

    He dered a showdown with the Colloseo Academy.

    The strongest guy here,e out! Something like that.

    The provocation was obvious, as the area he was in was a dining area for first-year students from both schools.

    It would be embarrassing for the 2nd and 3rd year students of the school toe out against the 1st year students of the other school, so only a 1st year student will step up.

    ''OK, we''vee this far, there''s no way they won''te out.''

    Bolly Bson blew out a hot snort and crossed his arms.

    He was confident that he could beat whoever came out.

    That Sancho in front of him was once stronger than him, but not now.

    This is because while Sancho neglected his training in the peacefulness of the Imperial Capital, he had trained tirelessly in the harsh conditions of the north.

    Tudors, from the Don Quixote family, was said to be strong, but only in sports, friendlypetitions, and other formal events with strict rules and regtions.

    He''d only be slightly better than brats with little experience in spontaneous street battles.

    The Baskervilles'' three brothers... were honestly overwhelming, but in a one-on-one fight, he was confident he wouldn''t lose.

    Grenouille, that sneaky little bastard with his poison, wasn''t even a contender.

    And the presence of Sinir and Bianca only served to fuel Bson''s fierce resolve.

    ''I''m definitely not jealous of co-educational schools. Never!''

    Now, this hostility doesn''t involve any personal feelings of jealousy or envy of all-boys schools.

    At least, that''s what Bson could say with confidence.

    ...?

    Everyone''s eyes shifted elsewhere.

    The eyes of the students at Colosseo Academy bounced from one to the next as Bson demanded that the strongest mane out, but when they finally settled on one, it wasn''t on Tudor, it wasn''t on Sancho, it wasn''t on the Baskervilles, it wasn''t on Grenouille, it wasn''t on Sinir, it wasn''t on Bianca.

    Vikir. A boy sitting off to one side, eating quietly.

    He waspletely indifferent to what was going on around him, lost in thought.

    ''...I have now mastered the 7th Form of Baskerville. Ever since I became a Swordmaster, my seventh tooth has grown to rival my sixth, so I wonder if it''s time for the eighth, the eighth tooth.''

    He was ruminating on how to leap beyond the current level of Swordmaster.

    ''The eighth tooth grows at the threshold of death, which means I must fight to the death.''

    Vikir had heard it all before. Crossing the line of death was something he feels rtively confident about.

    The smell of blood, the countless karma, and the experience gained would serve as fertilizer as he broke through the Wall of Eight.

    ...But Vikir''s thoughts were interrupted.

    Vikir''s thoughts were interrupted by Bson walking in front of him and opening his mouth.

    "Hey, buddy. Are you the strongest first-year in Colosseo?"

    "?"

    Vikir paused and looked away.

    Then somethingrge and thick was ced in front of him.

    ...BANG!

    It was Bson''s forearm.

    Bson spoke in a low, short voice.

    "How about an arm wrestling match, no mana."

    Students of a prestigious academy shouldn''t be fighting in the streets.

    If they were to formally challenge each other to a duel, there would be a lot of hassle if there were casualties before the tournament.

    Therefore, the favorite forms ofbat among Varangian warriors were "wrestling" and "arm wrestling".

    If the space wasrge and there were sandpits around, they would wrestle; if the space was small and the terrain didn''t allow for it, they would arm wrestle.

    "...."

    Vikir crossed his arms and looked down.

    Bson''srge hand was there, taunting him, inviting him to take the plunge.

    "Why, you look like a little shit."

    "...."

    "If you''re scared, you can just say you''re scared. I don''t despise losers."

    "...."

    "Though it does give me a new appreciation for the standard of Colosseo Academy, with a guy like you at the top of the ss, hahaha-"

    Bson continued to taunt.

    Then.

    "Enough of that."

    A voice intervened.

    Dolores stepped down from the second floor staircase and looked down at the first years.

    Dolores, a saint of the Colosseo, was revered by the warriors of Varangian, so Bson bowed respectfully.

    Dolores cut to the chase.

    "I will not allow any disturbances between the schools before the tournament, so let''s end this nerve war and get everyone to bed early for the tournament...."

    "Wait."

    Just then, another voice interrupted Dolores.

    Juragio Bakiraga. The top of the Varangian.

    He looked up at Dolores with a smirk on his face.

    "I think it''s more appropriate to look at this as a little prank between a bunch of hot-headed neers than an inter-school feud, right?"

    "Mr. Bakiraga. I understand what you''re trying to say, but...."

    "Seriously, how are they supposed to get along without all the fuss? They say children grow up fighting."

    "If they can''t, they shouldn''t."

    "Uh-huh-but my junior is on a mission to prove his strength right now, and that seems to be the case with the students of Colloseo as well."

    At that, Dolores turned her head away.

    She could already see Tudor, Sancho, and the others sulking at having their friend insulted in front of them.

    She could use the authority of the student council president to order them to back off, but that would hurt their feelings a lot.

    Bakiraga frowned at Dolores, who let out a small sigh.

    "Instead of that, how about we be witnesses and observe? I mean, how about arm wrestling? I think it could be a little entertainment to boost thepetitive spirit before thepetition."

    At this point, Dolores could only nod in agreement.

    Anything less would have killed the morale of the Colosseo freshmen before the tournament.

    "...If there''s any sign of trouble, I''ll step in and stop it."

    "Me too. I might even call a halt to it first. I''m more cautious than I look. Especially when ites to the health of my juniors."

    The presidents of the two schools came to an agreement.

    Immediately, seats were cleared and a ce set.

    Vikir and Bson sat across from each other at a stone round table.

    "Hoo-hoo. Those are some slender arms you''ve got there. I''ll believe you if you say they''re the arms of a noble. I''m not sure if I should hold them or not, I might break them."

    "...."

    Vikir didn''t argue, but held out his hand with a grim expression.

    Soon, the two men''s hands were locked together.

    ...kkuug!

    The moment their hands connected, Bson''s expression changed.

    "What the hell? It''s quite..."

    "...."

    Vikir was still speechless.

    Then, Piggy, the referee, blew his whistle hard.

    At the same time, Bson began to roar with terrifying force.

    "Heuaaaaaaas!"

    The sound rattled the sses around him.

    The men in Varangian burst outughing and started cheering for Bson.

    "Oooooooo, go, freshman boy!"

    "Show us how you can strangle a bear!"

    "Just smash it!"

    The crowd''s cheers erupted.

    ... but.

    "Haaaahhhhhh!"

    "...."

    "Grrrrrrrrrrrr!"

    "...."

    "Chhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

    "...."

    Bson''s cheers were louder than before, but nothing had changed on the board.

    Vikir''s arm and Bson''s arm are still in the same ce, unmoving.

    Only the veins on Bson''s forearm continued to flutter and twitch like a snake thrown onto a grill.

    ''Hey, why can''t I move this guy''s arm?''

    Bson continued to pound his fist into the man''s forearm.

    But Vikir was still staring straight ahead, expressionless and unmoving.

    "Hmph, hmph, hmph!"

    Bson''s eyes were nowpletely strained open. His gaunt face was covered in spit, snot, and sweat.

    Despite this, Vikir did not release his grip, so their hands remained firmly nted in the center of the arm-wrestling board.

    "...."

    Vikir was quietly looking at Bson, who was sweating profusely with a red face right in front of him.

    Bson gritted his teeth as he saw that despite the effort it took to free his hand, it still remained in the center.

    He couldn''t push, he couldn''t pull, his arms won''t move at all. He couldn''t even take his hand away because Vikir won''t let go.

    Vikir had no intention of winning in the first ce, so he kept his arm in the center and didn''t move.

    At this point, Bson can''t help but feel like he''s pushing a giant mountain with his hands.

    Tudor and Sancho, who were watching, giggled in amusement.

    "That''s how I felt the first time I yed football with Vikir."

    "Right. That was my first experience with his power. It was beyondmon sense."

    And then.

    With all the focused attention of the Varangian and Colosseo students,

    "... lost, I lost."

    After a long pause, Bson finally admitted defeat.

    The Varangian students, who had been cheering him on, could only stare at each other in disbelief.

    "What the hell, did Bson lose?"

    "He didn''t fall, why did he lose? It was tight!"

    "Bson, you spineless bastard, it''s a tie, you can''t just forfeit!"

    "You didn''t pass it, but he didn''t pass it either! If you had held on a little longer, you could have won!"

    Then Bsen, who was booed, clenched his teeth.

    ''They don''t know anything!''

    On the surface, it looks like a draw, but it''s not.

    Vikir had no intention of winning, so he was letting him off the hook.

    And it''s possible to be generous in arm wrestling....

    ''How strong are you?''

    Bson''s face turned white.

    In arm wrestling, it''s much harder to keep a draw than it is to win.

    Only an overwhelming difference in strength will allow you to keep your arms centered, depending on your opponent''s strength.

    When Bson broke out in a cold sweat and was lost in thought.

    "Get out of the way, I challenge you!"

    "If it''s just strength, I''m better than Bson!"

    "If it''s just arm wrestling, I''m stronger!"

    "Me too! I''ll take the challenge!"

    "If I beat him here, I''ll be certified as stronger than Bson, right?"

    "Do you ept second graders?"

    "I''m a third grader, but that''s a bit much, isn''t it?"

    The other students of Varangian, angered by Bson''s hollow deration of defeat, began to crowd around.

    And.

    "Line up."

    Vikir graciously epted their challenge.

    ''..., this reminds me of the old days.''

    By all ounts, it was a small entertainment.

 Chapter 242: National University League (9)

    <h4>Chapter 242: National University League (9)</h4>

    The reactions of those around him to Vikir''s victory over Bson were quite mixed.

    "Oh, that''s a shame. They were so close."

    "But he had a nk expression and Bson whined a lot, so didn''t he actually lose?"

    "Maybe he was just better at managing his facial expressions."

    "I think they were about equal in strength, so neither of their hands moved off the center."

    "Maybe he has lost his strength now, I should give him a try."

    However, some people saw this situation clearly.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir, for example, knew of Vikir''s power.

    "Vikir has been very generous."

    "That''s how you win."

    "But do you think even Vikir can beat all those people?"

    "When I think about Vikir''s archery skills, I think he has really strong arms. But even then, facing that many challengers is too unreasonable."

    "I''m worried about my brother... ... He has really provoked the fighting spirit of the Varangian Boot Camp boys."

    Meanwhile.

    With all eyes on them, Vikir was reminiscing about the past.

    ''It''s like the old times.''

    Vikir was reminiscing about his time in the military before his Regression.

    When the Age of Destruction first started, the Humanity Alliance Army Internal Affairs division had attracted all kinds of people.

    Many among them were rough mercenaries from the north, most of whom were masters in arm wrestling.

    Arm wrestling tournaments were a daily urrence in the Internal Affairs division.

    Vikir had seen many skinny and lightweight men took down men who were much more muscr and heavier than them.

    Sometimes,rades weighing less than 50 kilograms would go toe-to-toe with famous strongmen in their squad or toon.

    ''In arm wrestling, strength is important, but technique is more important.''

    Or, more precisely, the skill of focusing strength only where it''s needed.

    Of course, Vikir''s pure strength was also very strong, and he was able to overwhelm the Varangian Boot Camp students without using mana.

    ... tter!

    In front of him, another muscr hulk grunted and twisted.

    Vikir hadn''t even moved, his arm still pinned to his center.

    ''He''s got a weak lower body, he''ll never be able to use the full strength of his arms.''

    Even though Vikir could turn over, he kept his arm in ce and didn''t move.

    The big man squirmed as he held onto Vikir''s arm, and eventually gave up.

    This time, just before the draw. It was the same scene as with Bson.

    "What the hell, man, why do you keep pulling out in tense situations?"

    "The power was the same! His arm was stuck in the center!"

    "These matches keep ending in nothing."

    "Yeah, that''s what happened with Bson, but it wasn''t fun."

    These were the initial reactions of the students from Varangian Boot Camp.

    But.

    "... forfeit."

    "Aaahhhh, he won''t budge at all, what is this power?"

    "Geez, I''m forfeiting, let go of my hand!"

    "...I, too, forefeit."

    All eyes were fixed on Vikir as one after another strong men challenged him.

    "...Is that guy the real deal?"

    "Are you forfeiting to him on purpose?"

    "That''s ridiculous, how can he hold on like that, right in the center, without being pushed or pulled?"

    "It doesn''t make sense, get out of the way, let me try!"

    But when they tried their hand at it, all of them were unable to push Vikir''s arm back even a millimeter, and had to call it off.

    When the number of forfeits exceeded thirty, a strange feeling began to rise in the room.

    "All the first years were annihted!"

    "What kind of power is that? How is that possible at his weight ss?"

    "The sophomores are out too!"

    "It''s like pushing a boulder, I can''t even move!"

    "Oh my God, even the third year seniors lost."

    A sh of strength and power. But Vikir remained expressionless, taking them all in.

    A mountain they couldn''t ovee, no matter how hard they tried, no matter how fast they ran. That was Vikir.

    Vikir even tightened his grip and wouldn''t let go even if they wanted to, which is why the number of Varangians who struggled with all their might and then gave up in frustration was growing.

    "...oh my god."

    Dolores'' mouth was half open as she watched.

    It was an unbelievable sight to behold.

    To be able to fight on equal footing with the warriors of Varangian Boot Camp without using any mana, and to be able to overpower them.

    As the student council president, she couldn''t help but chuckle as she watched the Varangian Boot Camp students, who she had secretly thought of as musclebrains, get beaten one after another.

    "Euheum. Euheum!"

    Dolores cleared her throat, covering her mouth, and nced to the side.

    Sure enough, there stood a stern-faced Bakiraga.

    However, it was not humiliation that shone in Bakiraga''s eyes, but curiosity.

    And then.

    The massive grizzly bear stepped forward, shooing away the tiny puppies.

    "Hey, freshman."

    Bakiraga stood in front of Vikir.

    "You look like you''ve got a lot of energy. Do you want to have a fight with me?"

    At his words, the mood in the room shifted drastically.

    Every student from the Colosseo Academy and Varangian Boot Camp swallowed hard and turned to look at Vikir.

    Even Dolores, the student council president.

    ... but.

    "Line."

    Vikir''s reply was short.

    A question mark appeared in Bakiraga''s head, and in the heads of all the spectators.

    After a few seconds of silence, Bakiraga realized the meaning of Vikir''s words.

    ".... You want me to get in line?"

    He nodded.

    When Vikir nodded, Bakiraga stood for a moment with a dazed look on his face, then scratched the back of his head and said.

    "Yeah. I''ll get to the back of the line."

    Bakiraga turned on his heel and walked to the back of the line of Varangian Boot Camp students who were standing in front of Vikir.

    Everyone watching had to swallow hard.

    The pinnacle of the Varangian Boot Camp, Bakiraga, was told to stand in line.

    How confident does one have to be to say something like that?!

    There were still a half-dozen Varangian Boot Camp students lined up in front of Vikir, but they all backed away when Bakiraga got to the back of the line.

    Bakiraga chuckled and sat down in front of Vikir.

    "Our school is a bit militant, like a giant mercenary army. There was a strict hierarchy, and a lot of people abused their power. People below a certain grade are almost treated like servants."

    "...."

    "But since I became student council president, we''ve gotten rid of the power abusers and their bad practices, but the hierarchy is still strict."

    So when Bakiraga stepped forward, the other students fell back in unison.

    Like wolves following their alpha.

    And the trust the Varangian Boot Camp students had in their student council president was overwhelming.

    "Can you imagine that person losing?"

    "He''s a monster, he''s already beaten the 3rd graders as a freshman."

    "Our president will win no matter what!"

    "Go! Juragio! Bakiraga! Go!"

    Riding high on the cheers, Bakiraga smirked.

    "Do you really think you can face me when you have taken on so many Varangian warriors before me? Do you really have that much strength left?"

    "...."

    Vikir did not answer. He merely rested his arms wordlessly on the stone table.

    Bakiraga was still smiling. Bakiraga''s smile faded a bit as he took Vikir''s hand.

    Tsk.

    He could already feel Vikir''s strength and weight.

    "...!"

    Sensing that Vikir''s strength had gone far beyond the level of just ''pushing'', Bakiraga gripped the table with his other hand.

    It was the first time since he''d entered Varangian Boot Camp that he''d been surprised by another''s strength.

    And then.

    Poof! Kukugukuk...

    The arm wrestling began.

    Oh-oh-oh-oh!

    Cheers from all around. Everyone from Colosseo Academy and Varangian Boot Camp cheered in unison.

    Bakiraga and Vikir''s arms were locked together in the center of the table.

    Only, Bakiraga is not giddy like the other Varangian Boot Camp students.

    Vikir''s arms were twitching in a different way.

    Their arms just swayed slightly in the center of the table. At first nce, it looked like they weren''t exerting any pressure on each other.

    But in reality, between their grasping hands, great power and strength, grip and grip were fiercely shing and mixing together.

    A trickle of cold sweat ran down Bakiraga''s cheeks.

    ''... This bastard, he''s strong.''

    And Vikir was still ring at Bakiraga.

    ''At least it''s not at the student level.''

    Vikir had a high opinion of Bakiraga, too.

    In terms of pure strength, Bakiraga''s side was superior.

    But Vikir had technique.

    The angle of his arms and shoulders forced his opponent to use his arm strength and not his shoulder strength. The shape of his grip maximized the strength of his forearms, and the strategic cement of his fingers maximized the weight transfer through his triceps and shoulders.

    Furthermore, the protection of the Styx River and the karma he had umted from ying countless demons had made Vikir''s muscles even harder and sturdier.

    Vikir''s delicate wrists hold up without even flinching despite Bakiraga''s enormous strength and weight.

    Seeing this, Bakiraga smirked in admiration.

    "You seem like a veteran who has seen it all. Calm and perceptive like my father. Who are you really?"

    But... the smile vanished from Bakiraga''s face at Vikir''s next words.

    ...Tick!

    Vikir unbuttoned his cor.

    He showed off the choker around his neck and spoke in a low voice.

    "Hunting grounds."

    Bakiraga''s eyes widened to the point of tears at Vikir''s words.

    At that moment.

    ...Boom!

    The table where Vikir and Bakiraga''s elbows touched cracked with a loud crack.

    The heavy table that was made of thick stone was not a match for their strength and shattered into pieces.

    Looking at the shattered stone table, the innkeeper muttered to himself.

    "My God... this table was carved out of the rock that was originally on this spot when the inn was built."

    A rock that had been there since the beginning of time, and it had been smashed to pieces by two boys.

    "...."

    No one could speak in front of this amazing sight.

    Then.

    "Hahahaha-"

    A coolugh burst out.

    It was Bakiraga, He was covered in stone dust and was looking this way, loosening his stiff grip.

    His gaze was fixed on Vikir''s neck.

    Then his mouth opened.

    "??? ????? ????. ?? ???? ?? ??"

    Words that were too fast to understand, words that were not even anguage in the first ce.

    But Vikir understood it.

    "You are the pride of Depth. Do not forget your roots.''

    It was Bk''snguage.

    Vikir remembered the information Sinir had told him about Bakiraga.

    ''Did you say his grandparents were from the Depth?''

    The choker Aiyen had filled Vikir with was a mark of the hunting grounds, something only the best hunters in the tribe could have.

    Vikir remembered Juragio Bakiraga, one of the great heroes of the Human Alliance before his regression.

    ''He said that he had been discriminated against since the first grade because of his barbarian blood. Did he feel a sense of kinship with me?''

    It made sense why Bakiraga had fought with the fourth graders in freshman year.

    And then. Bakiraga patted Vikir on the shoulder with a smirk on his face.

    "That was a lot of strength, rookie! It''s gettingte, so we''ll have to save our best power for tomorrow''s tournament! Hahaha-"

    He leaned his head toward Vikir and spoke in a low whisper.

    "I can''t even ask for a rematch, with your girlfriend over there ring at me with her angry eyes."

    At that, Vikir turned his head with a puzzled expression.

    There, Dolores stood, ring at Bakiraga.

    ''What on earth did you see that made you furious?''

    Locking eyes with Dolores, Vikir shook his head.

    "...?"

    While Dolores was still trying to figure out what they were talking about, Bakiraga turned around with a smile on his face.

    "That was a good fight, Colosseo! This first year''s strength contest was our defeat, but we will not lose easily in tomorrow''s tournament, for strength is not the only thing that makes a warrior!"

    Bakariga called out as he walked towards his quarters, the Varangian Boot Camp students following him like a pack of wolves following their alpha.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and the others stood in awe at the scene.

    "Wow, so this is a battle between men."

    "There''s something about Bakiraga, too. He''s a fine man."

    "This is exciting! I''m really looking forward to tomorrow''s match!"

    And.

    Bianca spoke up, a little distant from all the enthusiasm.

    "They''re all gone."

    The students from the Colosseo Academy turned their heads in surprise.

    The food on the buffet tables had all but disappeared.

 Chapter 243: Survival Contest (1)

    <h4>Chapter 243: Survival Contest (1)</h4>

    The day of the University League has arrived.

    Participants from Colosseo Academy, Varangian Boot Camp and Temiscyra Academies knocked on the Magic Tower''s school gate.

    The main gate of the tower opened by itself as soon as they knocked.

    It was like a creature opening its mouth.

    "...wah."

    Once inside, the students couldn''t help but gasp.

    From the outside, the tower looked like a tall, narrow structure, but when they stepped inside, it was truly a spectacr view.

    There were countless floors, all furnished with vast forests,kes, oceans, deserts,va fields, canyons, and snowy mountains.

    In the skies, countless stars gathered to form constetions, which together form the Milky Way.

    The serene sound of a waterfall echoed through the majestic walls.

    Water dews formed melodious tunes as they fell on mushrooms scattered around the ground, and glowing fireflies flew into the air.

    As the students climbed the stairs, trickling streams of water ran coolly between their toes.

    The water slowly rose to their knees, waists, shoulders, then the top of their heads, swallowing up all the space.

    The students, who at first panicked, wondering if they were going to drown, gradually regained theirposure and began to enjoy the phenomenon.

    The "magic water" is also one of the artifacts awarded for winning thepetition.

    They could drink this mysterious water and dip their hands and feet in it. However, even if they werepletely submerged in the water, they wouldn''t get wet and they would still be able to breathe.

    "Wow, look, none of my clothes are wet, they''re still fluffy and dry!"

    "I can breathe and I can hear you clearly. It''s amazing-"

    "And yet it sure feels like I''m underwater!"

    The students swam upward in this mysterious space, through forests and mountains, deserts and volcanoes, oceans and deserts, canyons and the Milky Way.

    And the higher they go, the more new spaces, unusual terrains, and mysterious natural phenomena are revealed to them.

    This was the essence of Magic, which distorted thews of space, fusing different terrains together.

    * * *

    Before the Survival Competition, there was a meeting for the representatives of each school to gather and discuss.

    First and foremost, the map on which thepetition would take ce was chosen.

    Lava Field (Inferno Hell) / Volcano (Charpero Crater) / Desert (Yuuni) / Jungle (Red and ck Mountains) / Snow Mountain (Fort Tochka) / Sea (Harsh Sea) / Abandoned Mine (Forgotten Land) / ...

    Various terrains were presented aspetition locations.

    The representatives of each school had their own favorite terrain.

    Bakiraga, a representative of Varangian, wanted a snowy mountain covered with snow and ice.

    "Northerners are used to the cold. To us, ice is our food and snow is our quilt."

    Lovegood, representing Themiscyra, wanted an ocean.

    "Southerners are used to the sea. There''s no second choice."

    Hohenheim, representing the Magic Tower, wanted ava field.

    "Because my specialty is fire andva magic. Huhuhu-"

    And then it was Dolores'' turn, representing Colosseo.

    "...."

    Dolores was lost in thought.

    She was thinking about what happened yesterday at the inn.

    About Vikir!

    ''It''s weird. No matter how much I think about it....''

    How could he be so strong? Is there something special about him? But there was such a huge weight difference...?

    Dolores had experienced three university leagues so far in her school years, and this was the first time she witnessed another manpete in strength with Bakiraga.

    And it was just his first year at Colosseo.

    ''His grades on the midterms, his knowledge that rivals Professor Banshee''s, and his suspension record....''

    Suddenly, a thought shed through Dolores'' mind.

    ''Could he be the imperial family member who''s been hiding their identity at the Academy...?''

    What if this rumor, which everyone dismissed as just a hoax, was true? It would make some sense.

    ''But there''s no evidence of that, and I doubt there will be.''

    Dolores was lost in thought as she recalled Vikir''s face.

    "Hey, Saint."

    Bakiraga called out to Dolores from beside her.

    "What are you thinking about so much?"

    "Oh, sorry, I was just thinking about yesterday''s arm wrestling match."

    Dolores straightened her posture, and Bakiraga smirked.

    "Why? Did you like the fact that your boyfriend was unexpectedly so strong?"

    "He''s...?"

    "Well, I thought you were single for three years in school, so I thought you weren''t interested in guys. Turns out you''re really picky about guys, so yeah, he''s probably a pretty good pass."

    "What? No, that''s not what...."

    "What? A secret love affair? Hahaha- I didn''t realize that. Campus couples do that. Heh heh, good times."

    Bakiraga chuckled and turned away.

    Dolores momentarily realized what he meant and was about to correct the misunderstanding.

    Whirr...

    She couldn''t, because the spinning wheel of map selection had begun to spin.

    And then.

    ... poof!

    The spinner stopped.

    The arrow in the center pointed to the map where today''spetition would take ce.

    And then.

    "...."

    "...."

    "...."

    "...."

    Bakiraga from Varangian Boot Camp, Hohenheim from Magic Tower, Lovegood from Themiscyra, and Dolores from Colosseo Academy.

    All four student representatives frowned in unison.

    Jungle (Red and ck Mountain)

    The map that was equally the worst choice for everyone was chosen as the map for today''spetition.

    * * *

    Meanwhile.

    Thepetition staff from each school gathered in one ce.

    North of the round table, there sat a muscr man with a bushy beard and a helmet decorated with water buffalo horns.

    To the south, there was a woman with a bow and sword strapped to her back and waist respectively, sitting with her legs crossed elegantly.

    To the east sat an impossiblyrge man with graying hair, white eyebrows, and a long, flowing white beard.

    They were, respectively, ''Vasilios'', the Deputy Director of the Varangian Boot Camp, ''Hippolyte'', the Principal of Themiscyra Academy, and ''Whitebeard Whale'', the Master of the Magic Tower.

    And on the west side of the round table, a middle-aged man with long ck hair, a stern expression, and a pair of deep eyes, sat silently.

    He was Professor Banshee, the Vice Principal of the Colosseo Academy.

    The Master of the Magic Tower, the Whitebeard Whale, spoke up.

    "Hehehe- It is an honor to hold this year''s tournament in our Magic Tower. I express my gratitude to the people involved who have journeyed far here."

    He looked back and forth between the representatives from Varangian Boot Camp and Colosseo Academy.

    "By the way, for some reason, only the Deputy Director and Vice Principal came, are the Director and Principal unavable?"

    The question was, why did the second inmande and not the head?

    At this, Deputy Director Vasilios became agitated.

    "The Director is still recovering from the ''unfortunate incident'' that happenedst time."

    "Oh, no. Was it because of that ''Miss Ouroboros'' viin?"

    Master Whitebeard stretched out his fingers and snapped it in the air.

    A newspaper clipping popped up in front of him.

    [BREAKING NEWS] The Night Hound, whose evil deeds know no bounds!

    -(��This article has been corrected.)-

    -The worst viin of all time, ''Night Hound'' ''Miss Ouroboros'' showed her fangs again.

    Last night, a group of students from the Varangian Boot Camp on a school trip to the Imperial Capital were attacked by the "Night Hound" "Miss Uroboros" and caused great damage...

    There were 00 minor injuries and 00 serious injuries... Among them was the Director of the Varangian''s Boot Camp...

    Meanwhile, no fingerprints were found on the only piece of evidence left at the scene, a broken vodka bottle...

    It was a newspaper published by Ryukeion, the newspaper department of the Colosseo Academy.

    ording to the article, Varangian Boot Camp had been attacked by a mysterious assant once before, and the aftermath of the attack still lingered.

    (Later investigations revealed that it was not the Night Hound but Miss Uroboros who had attacked Varangian Boot Camp, and that the attack was the work of a grudge fight.)

    In this fight, the Director of Verangian''s Boot Camp was gravely wounded, which is why Deputy Director Vasilios is here today as Acting Director.

    Meanwhile.

    "The reason why the Principal of this school could note is because...."

    Professor Banshee was just about to open his mouth to say something.

    ...Bam!

    The spinning wheel spins, and the map is finalized.

    This is the terrain where 400 students from four schools willpete for survival today.

    The conversation naturally shifted.

    When all the headmasters saw that the map had been chosen for thepetition, they swallowed hard.

    "So this is the map that everyone is most afraid of."

    "That''s right. In ces like volcanic areas and snowy mountains, food and water are hard toe by, but once you get them, you can preserve them by drying them in the wind or burying them in the ground."

    "But in the jungle, it''s hot and humid, so everything rots quickly. Many things are also contaminated or poisonous, so food and water are hard toe by."

    "...."

    Next, arge mirror floated above the round table, reflecting the faces of 400 students.

    The mirror was the legendary "Extra Eyes," a magical tool that can see the status of anyone from a thousand miles away, and was once awarded to the Tower master "Whitebeard Whale" for winning the university league.

    Everyone was in awe of Whitebeard''s artifact.

    "Wow. The ''Extra Eyes'' is always so magical."

    "I can see all the students from here."

    "I can see what 400 people are doing right in front of me."

    "...."

    Once again, Professor Banshee crossed his arms and said nothing.

    Soon, the heads of each school began to chat, each watching the students from their own school.

    "So, who are the favorites to win thispetition?"

    "''Bakiraga'' from Varangian Boot Camp, ''Lovegood'' from Themiscyra Academy, ''Hohenheim'' from Magic Tower, and ''Dolores'' from Colosseo Academy, isn''t it?"

    "Yeah, they were the top performers in their age group in thepetitionst year and the year before, so there''s a good chance they''ll get an artifact."

    "...."

    But Professor Banshee is still silent.

    He just stares off into the distance.

    The heads of the other schools look at him curiously.

    "Vice Principal Banshee, may we ask where you are looking?"

    "Ms. Dolores, the ace of the Colosseo Academy, is on the other side of the field, isn''t she?"

    "The direction you''re looking is where the first graders are gathered."

    But Professor Banshee only hummed and snorted.

    "I''m watching someone else."

    There was a boy who stood with a cold attitude, as if he wasn''t interested in anything.

 Chapter 244: Survival Contest (2)

    <h4>Chapter 244: Survival Contest (2)</h4>

    Four hundred students were dropped in the jungle.

    Despite the fact that they were separated by a wide distance from each other, it wasn''t long after thepetition started that they were dropped one after another.

    "Ugh... stomach, my stomach hurts so much. Wasn''t I supposed to eat that fruit earlier?"

    "Yuck! Yuck! Yuck! I drank some stagnant water from the trough earlier and it made me vomit...."

    "Ouch! Ouch! I''ve been bitten by something, my eye is tingling!"

    Thepetition''s map, "The Red and ck Mountains of Jungle," was a harsh ce in itself.

    Poisonous mushrooms and fruits, contaminated water, insects armed with venomous bites, sweltering air and heavy humidity, vines and leaves that cut, sting, and sting, and the sheer density of it all was enough to keep them going for hours on end.

    Sweat poured down their faces even when they stood still.

    Simply holding on to the barrels of poisonous insects was a struggle.

    Add to that the rapid dehydration, fatigue, and hunger, and if you eat something, you''re immediately poisoned or get food poisoning.

    HP was melting like butter on a hot frying pan.

    The HP stored in the specially designed suit increases and decreases with the wearer''s physical fitness and stress levels.

    This means that the students must do their best to keep the HP in their suits from reaching zero in order to survive.

    If it does, they will be forcibly teleported back to the waiting room.

    Meanwhile.

    "...Hmmm, hmmm, hmmm."

    Grenouille des Leviathans, the vice head of the Colosseo Academy''s Hot ss and a member of the aristocratic faction, was now sweating profusely and breathing heavily.

    The reading on his HP suit read 74%.

    Even though Grenouille hadn''t fought anyone since falling into this forest, 26% of his HP had already evaporated.

    "This is insane, this jungle is hell. Are jungles like this really real?"

    But no matter how much heined, nothing changed.

    Grenouille stared at the rainwater pooling in the hollows of the trees.

    At first nce, it looked like drinkable water, but when Grenouille put his nose to it, he smelled a foul odor.

    Straining his eyes, he saw tiny thread worms squirming and floating beneath the surface.

    "...e!"

    Grenouille stepped back, suppressing nausea.

    If I drink something like that for thirst, my stomach would immediately give a signal.

    And I will lose a ton of water through diarrhea.

    ''If I do that, I''ll have zero HP, and I''ll be eliminated before I can do anything.''

    Grenouille turned away wearily.

    He looks down at his waist and sees the fish he caught earlier.

    As soon as I caught it, I scooped it up and dried it myself, but the humidity was so high that it didn''t dry quickly.

    I put my nose and smelled it, and it smelled like it was already spoiled.

    "Ugh, I can''t drink water and my food is spoiled. What can I do?"

    Grenouille thought he could see why his seniors considered the Jungle of the Red and ck Mountains to be the worst of the maps.

    The real wilderness was terrifying enough to make Grenouille, the heir to the Leviathan, shudder.

    Every poisonous mushroom or poisonous nt in the book looked a little different in real life.

    They can berger or smaller than they appear in the book, dusty, torn, upside down, dried, in the dark, or in the light.

    And there are tons of variants, subspecies, and new species that aren''t even listed in the book.

    "...Huh, yeah. If this body, which has mastered all sorts of poisons, can''t do this, I wonder what other lesser things it can do."

    Grenouille wiped the sweat from his brow and turned his head to see how his teammates were struggling.

    ... but.

    "Oh, this is delicious."

    "Delicious."

    "Delicious."

    Over a roaring campfire.

    The Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro are huddled over a bowl of white fish fillets cooked in boiling water on the trunk of a halved coconut.

    And in the center of it all, a schoolboy sits with an expressionless face.

    Vikir.

    He was so nonchntly, as if he were in his own home, adjusting himself to the Red and ck Mountain.

    * * *

    ''It''s been a while.''

    Vikir was feeling at home after all these years.

    The jungle of the Red and ck Mountains were familiar to him, both as a Bk hunting ground and as a Baskerville hound.

    The de of a leaf cutting into flesh, the sting of an insect that made the bite swell, the heat and humidity that clenched his throat, all were familiar and nostalgic.

    With a familiar gesture, Vikir found a flint and built a fire, soon warming the surroundings with a glow and not much smoke.

    The sticky humidity was removed with spicy ash, and meals were made by roasting fish from the nearby river, mushrooms, and berries from the trees.

    Water was purified with charcoal dust and baked earth, then boiled over an open fire for drinking.

    The High, Mid, and Low Brothers also reported to Vikir and sought his approval before making their move.

    "Hey. Vikir. Can we drink this water?"

    "No."

    "Can you tell us why? It looks clear to me."

    "When I went upstream earlier, there were dead elk lying around."

    "I see, so even though the water looks clear, it''s full of microorganisms. What about these berries? Are they edible?"

    "You can eat them if you steam them to evaporate the poison. If you just eat it, you''ll go blind."

    The group centered around Vikir.

    Grenouille was amazed that ''those Baskerville triplets'' were following Vikir''s instructions so obediently.

    ''...that one. He''s a little more than I thought.''

    Grenouille''s gaze drifted to the fish stew Vikir was stirring.

    The reddish broth was boiling hot, with all sorts of vegetables and white fish floating around.

    I can''t help but salivate under my chin as I stare at the spicy-looking soup.

    ''Oh, no, I can''t beg amoner for food.''

    Grenouille fiddled with the spoiled fish wrappers in his pocket.

    The thought of relying on amoner now hurt his pride in being a member of the Seven Great Families.

    In the end, though, there was no business before hunger. ...

    "Hey."

    At Vikir''s call, Grenouille turned his head, his eyes wide open.

    A bowl of hot and spicy soup in a coconut bowl was held out in front of Grenouille.

    "Eat as you want. I don''t know what you''re doing."

    Grenouille felt tears well up in his eyes as he listened to Vikir''s words.

    ''... thismoner bastard. Maybe he''s a little nicer than I thought.''

    And then Grenouille brought the spicy soup to his lips.

    "...! ...! ...!"

    His eyes widened to tears.

    ''Delicious!''

    Grenouille felt a shiver run down his spine at the shock of the tongue-melting vor.

    Anything tastes better when you''re camped outdoors.

    Was it because I was so dehydrated and hungry?

    Vikir''s spicy soup tasted better than anything I''d ever had from a top chef in the Leviathan family''s mansion.

    ''I must ask him if he''d like to work in my kitchen someday!''

    Grenouille gulped down the entire bowl of spicy soup on the spot.

    Vikir stared at it, then threw some more mushrooms, fish, and dried worms(?) into the pot and let it simmer for a while longer.

    Grenouille stared at it, drooling, as if having forgotten what he had just eaten, and then spoke shyly.

    "There, there...."

    "Eat more, there''s plenty."

    "kuh, kuh, kuh, keuhm. hm, thank you...."

    Grenouille coughed a few more times, avoiding eye contact, then tilted the coconut bowl to scoop up the broth.

    Mmmm, mmmm, mmmm, mmmm...

    Grenouille gulped down another fifteen bowls before letting out a long burp as if to say thank you.

    His HP, which had dropped to 41%, was now 92% full.

    Grenouille patted his bulging belly.

    Even with all the food he''d eaten, there was still a lot of spicy soup left in the big coconut.

    Grenouille scratched his head and turned to Vikir.

    "Hey,moner... Vikir."

    When Vikir turned his head, Grenouille cautiously asked Vikir what he wanted to know.

    "What is this fishy red stew, why did you make so much of it, from the looks of it you didn''t even eat much."

    Suddenly, Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro turned to look at Vikir.

    They didn''t say anything, but they must have been wondering.

    "...."

    Vikir was silent for a moment and closed his eyes.

    Then, stirring the coconut pot slowly with a broad leaf, he answered.

    "Fishing."

    Everyone''s heads tilted, including Grenouille.

    Vikir making spicy soup with the fish he caught, and he''s going fishing again?

    Vikir, in an unusual act of kindness, offers an exnation.

    "I''m waiting for the prey to bite the bait."

    Even now, the leaf that Vikir is slowly stirring has be a fan, spreading the spicy and savory smell of hot stew.

    It was slowly spreading across the jungle, apanied by the faint glow from the residual fire.

    And then.

    ...Rustle!

    The prey, drawn to the warmth and delicious smell, had been trapped.

    The sound of their approach to the bait grew louder and louder.

    Thwack!

    Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro half-sheathed their swords at their hips.

    Even Grenouille, who has removed his grimoire and staff, has a tense expression on his face.

    "...."

    Only Vikir remains calm, hiding behind a clump of bushes and watching the bonfire.

    And then.

    ...Crisp!

    A figure emerges from the bushes, drawn by the smell.

    He looks exhausted and troubled, his tattered clothes covered in leaves and ashes.

    The faces of Highbro, Midbro, Lowbro, and Grenouille turned in horror as they recognized the visitor.

    And then.

    "...?"

    Vikir was just as surprised.

    The voice from beyond the bushes was tired, but still clear as day.

    "Whoa... what''s that smell?"

    It was Dolores''s.

 Chapter 245: Survival Contest (3)

    <h4>Chapter 245: Survival Contest (3)</h4>

    The sun sets quickly in the jungle.

    The day was slowly turning dark, and the hot air was cooling down.

    "Whoa... what''s that smell?"

    Dolores emerged from the bushes, exhausted.

    Her clothes were riddled with tears and stained with twigs, leaves, and dirt.

    She had only 38% HP left.

    Then.

    "What?"

    Dolores recognized the smell and the light that had been luring her.

    A roaring fire, covered in ashes and emitting only warmth, and a red stew bubbling over it made her mouth water.

    "Hey, why is this here...."

    In her head, she knew it was strange. But her feet uncontrobly lead her to the source of smell.

    The smell of the stew was too strong to ignore.

    ''There are signs of human upancy. There''s no sign of anyone lurking around, so it''s not like they''re preparing for an ambush. So someone made it to eat and then left?''

    Someone prepared the food for a meal, but then had to leave for something urgent, or just abandoned the area.

    That''s all she could think of.

    Normally, Dolores wouldn''t have touched anything that belonged to anyone else, but....

    ''I just have to stay alive, that''s the rule of survival.''

    If that''s the case, I might be excused.

    Dolores slowly reached for the stew.

    Then.

    Passasac-.

    Someone stood up from the grass some distance away.

    "Wait."

    It was Vikir.

    Far enough away for a surprise, but close enough for Vikir, whose primary skill is the bow.

    Dolores, however, was prepared for the archer''s surprise.

    "...Was there an ambush again!?"

    She quickly drew back, preparing her divine shield.

    Vikir raised his bow and pointed it in her direction.

    "...."

    "...."

    Vikir and Dolores faced each other.

    Even if they were from the same school, the rules of the tournament made them enemies.

    However, it would be inefficient for them to fight each other when the tournament was only halfway through.

    So Dolores didn''t make a move.

    "...."

    "...."

    The boy and girl, neither perfect allies nor perfect enemies, stared at each other in a strange silence.

    And it was Dolores, or more urately, her stomach, that broke the silence.

    ...Gurgle!

    Dolores''s stomach, which hasn''t eaten in days, screams.

    Dolores''s face immediately turned bright red.

    Why did she feel so embarrassed when she got caught feeling hungry?

    Especially when the one who caught her was a guy.

    But the impassive Vikir didn''t care if Dolores'' stomach was singing opera or heavy metal.

    The thirsty person digs a well. Eventually, Dolores, in a sorry state, raised her hand.

    "...I think we should join hands for a while, since we''re from the same school. It''s still a long way from the end of thepetition."

    "...Do as you please."

    Dolores''s brow furrowed once at Vikir''s lukewarm words as he drew back his bow.

    With that, the atmosphere settled into a lull.

    But there was more to Dolores than simply avoiding a fight.

    "Hey, hey, hey, do you have any of that stew left, and if so, could you share some with me?"

    She said with difficulty.

    It was a pity that Dolores of all people had to beg for leftovers.

    Dolores spoke quickly.

    "Of course, I''m not asking for free! I can heal and buff you!"

    In such a harsh environment, the presence of a healer would be essential.

    So Vikir replied coldly.

    "I don''t need one."

    "Okay, win-win... uh, what?"

    Hearing Vikir''s answer, Dolores doubted her ears.

    As it turns out,mon sense doesn''t work for Vikir.

    Hadn''t he burned more than half of the gnoll hides at thest bazaar because he found the alliance of aristocrats and nobles to be a nuisance?

    Dolores looked at Vikir with a nk expression.

    Then she realized why he didn''t need heals or buffs.

    100% HP.

    Vikir was in perfect condition, no fatigue, no damage.

    In this jungle inferno!

    ''How the hell is this possible?''

    Dolores''s mind was spinning again.

    "Hey, look, Common... Vikir."

    Grenouille poked his head out of the bushes beside Vikir.

    He gave Vikir a puzzled look.

    "Have you forgotten who she is? She''s a saint from Quovadis!"

    "...."

    "And she''s the student council president of the academy! As if that wasn''t enough, what...."

    "...."

    "Leaving all that aside, how can you refuse to help such a beautifuldy when she asks for help!"

    Grenouille''s words were ones that any normal person could rte to.

    ... But Vikir was not an ordinary person.

    Vikir twitched his ears once, as if he was annoyed, and three strong hands shot out from behind Grenouille to cover his mouth.

    "Hey, bestie. Let''s have some bonding time together."

    "Let''s go."

    "Let''s go."

    Highbro, Midbro, Lowbro.

    Vikir''s trident dragged Grenouille, who couldn''t even let out a squeak, and disappeared into the bushes.

    The silent confrontation between Vikir and Dolores began again.

    Then.

    Dolores sighed lightly and raised her hands.

    "I am not a saint of Quovadis, nor am I the student council president of the Academy."

    "...."

    "I''m just a hungrymb."

    It was a deration of surrender.

    Dolores remembered the words she had once heard.

    -''Who are you and why have youe to me at thiste hour?''

    -''...I''m just a lostmb.''

    The first conversation with the Night Hound.

    Deeply impressed with the Night Hound''s answer, Dolores had borrowed his words here.

    And Vikir understood.

    Vikir showed his approval by lowering his bow and stepping aside, and Dolores sat down at the campfire to eat the stew.

    "Thank you."

    The stew that Vikir had prepared with his own hands had a pleasant smell.

    Dolores''s nose twitched.

    The oddly meaty smell of the stew must havee from the small garnish of mushrooms that Vikir had added as he handed her the bowl.

    gulp....mmm.

    Dolores took a sip of the stew and her face lit up with surprise and delight.

    "...delicious."

    How could something taste so amazing in such a harsh environment?

    It was the most delicious food she had ever eaten in her life.

    Maybe it was the difference between a sweetfish and a snailfish, but that''s what it tasted like right now.

    Dolores frantically emptied her bowl, oblivious to the red marks at the corners of her mouth.

    A whopping thirteen times!

    All this time, Vikir had been sitting next to Dolores without saying a word.

    Finally, when Dolores was somewhat full, she turned to Vikir and said with a shrug.

    "I''m afraid, I''m in this condition because I was attacked by Hohenheim of the Magic Tower right at the beginning of the tournament."

    Hohenheim''s nickname, ''smart-ass with high nose'' was indeed a fitting one.

    Dolores''srades rallied around her and fought to the end.

    The death of a healer in a party would truly be catastrophic.

    And as a result, Dolores lost all of her team members and survived alone.

    Hohenheim, an excellent me mage, was able to ughter several groups on his own.

    Dolores fought back by healing and buffing her allies around her, but she was ultimately defeated in a guerri war against Hohenheim, who was able to move in and out quickly on his own.

    "Four of my team members were eliminated, because we were just chasing Hohenheim around and getting picked off one by one. It was a one-man show."

    They hadn''t asked, but it was valuable information nheless.

    Grenouille and the Baskerville triplets'' eyes lit up as they listened carefully to Dolores.

    It was not every day that they happen to meet a third-year ace in the middle of a tournament and getting her advice, so it was not surprising.

    ... but.

    "Is that so?"

    Vikir only nodded, his expression still nk, not showing any hint of his feelings..

    The nk stare left Dolores speechless.

    She began to observe Vikir carefully.

    ''Why is he so nonchnt in the midst of this terrible jungle? How does he know how to cook this, and where does he get the ingredients?''

    Vikir looks asfortable as if he were in his own backyard and kitchen.

    It was as if he was at home among the Red and ck Mountains.

    Of course, Dolores didn''t knows that Vikir had been going in and out of the Red and ck Mountains for the past several decades, and that he lived there as his home for two years. Or the fact that he had stored fresh ingredients in his ring with a space magicparable to the subspace magic of the Magic Tower. There was no way to know that ingredients and spices were being used little by little.

    Meanwhile.

    Fadak-fadak-fadak-fadak

    Vikir continued to simmer the fish stew from earlier, fanning it with a broad leaf over the top.

    The warmth and smell wafted across the jungle on the breeze.

    On a dark night like this, the lights and smells would be even more intense.

    Dolores scratched her head and asked.

    "But who are you going to lure with the smell of this food? What if it''s a very strong one, like Hohenheim of Magic Tower, or Bakiraga of Varangian, or Lovegood of Themiscyra...."

    Baiting prey with food was a good idea, but if the prey was too strong, the hunter could be the prey.

    Dolores was inwardly worried that Hohenheim or Bakiraga woulde.

    Well, then.

    with a plop-

    Vikir replied, tossing an unseen mushroom into the coconut pot.

    "I don''t care whoes."

    And then, as if waiting for those words.

    Boom!

    The grass in the front area was engulfed in huge mes and burned down.

    Zap-zap-zap-zap-zap.

    There was a louse walking out into the middle of the space where everything had been reduced to ash.

    "What is this smell?"

    A highly acimed genius produced by the Magic Tower.

    The strongest contender at this point.

    The top predator who had just single-handedly wiped out over 50 enemies.

    A smart-ass with a high nose.

    That was Hohenheim.

 Chapter 246: Survival Contest (4)

    <h4>Chapter 246: Survival Contest (4)</h4>

    Vasilios, Vice Director of Varangian, Hippolyte, Principal of Themiscyra, Blue Whale, Master of the Magic Tower, and Banshee, Vice Principal of Colosseo.

    They were keeping an eye on the current situation of the tournament through arge artifact called the Extra Eyes.

    Colosseo-23

    Magic Tower-35

    Varangian-45

    Themiscyra-46

    Deputy Director Vasilios and Principal Hippolyte stroked their chins.

    "Looks like Mr. Hohenheim has found another prey."

    "I guess it wasn''t enough that he eliminated a bunch of students from the Colosseo just a moment ago, hohoho- be brave too."

    Just a moment ago, the genius Hohenheim had unleashed an enormous amount of magic power, causing a sea of fire to erupt around him, killing about thirty Colosseo students.

    Most of those who had already been defeated or were almost defeated were third-year aces, and even Dolores, Colosseo''s favorite to win, was included among them.

    The shock of the Colosseo students was even greater because the student council president almost suffered elimination from the beginning of thepetition.

    Afterwards, Hohenheim moved through the jungle as if there was nothing to worry about.

    Another two dozen or so students from Varangian and Themiscyra were swept away by his tsunami of fire.

    All of them were third-year aces who had the strength and experience to win.

    ''Hohenheim of a Thousand Buddhas'', I think the nickname that has spread throughout the world is truly urate.

    He was on a wild ride, as if he was going to eliminate all the aces from the start.

    Watching him in the mirror, the tower''s master, the White Bearded Whale, smiled wryly.

    "Hehehe- our ''smart-ass with high nose'' is finally showing his true colors."

    "...."

    "Oh dear, here we go again with the Colosseo students. What else do you run into when you''re having dinner?"

    "...."

    "I''m seeing Miss Dolores again, the woman who barely escaped with her life earlier. I guess the Colosseo isn''t having any of this. Hehehe-"

    The Master Whitebeard was unexpectedly talkative for such a huge beast.

    However, Professor Banshee, Colosseo''s vice principal, did not respond to his words.

    "...."

    A look of mild displeasure, but one that didn''t seem to bother him.

    But his gaze never left the mirror.

    In the mirror, where Vikir and Dolores were holding hands.

    Crackle!

    The curtain of fire is torn.

    The mud dried and crumbled into sand, and the sand melted into bubblingva.

    ... St! ... St! ... St! ... St!

    Hohenheim walked over it.

    "Whoo-hoo-hoo. Wormy Colosseo bastards."

    His face is a 180-degree change from when he was leading the weing procession.

    Perhaps this is his true color.

    "It''s time to turn the university rankings upside down. The best university in this empire is the Magic Tower. And I will be its greatest genius."

    Hohenheim has always resented the fact that Magic Tower is second only to Colosseo in the university hierarchy.

    And now, with all of his annoying seniors gone, he nned to take matters into his own hands and make his university the best it could be.

    "...?"

    Hohenheim''s eyes narrowed.

    Bubbling, bubbling, bubbling...

    Arge pot of coconut boiling in front of him, and the red stew within.

    It gave off a delicious smell that caught the attention of Hohenheim, a picky eater.

    He may be a genius, but he''s notfortable with the harsh conditions of the Red and ck Mountains.

    Hohenheim was hungry and thirsty, too.

    "...hmm. Is this a trap?"

    Hohenheim looked around.

    There were deep butt prints in the dry straw around him, as if someone had stayed nearby earlier.

    Judging by their carefully constructed huts, pits, and bonfires, they had nned to stay here for a long time.

    "Fufu, and then I came along and you abandoned everything and fled in a hurry."

    There''s no sign of the ambushers around. All they could see was a hasty evacuation.

    What''s more, in their haste, they''d dropped the grade markers on their suits.

    It marked them as first-year students.

    Hohenheim let his guard down.

    If he was a first-year, he wasn''t worth fighting.

    He''d probably run away with his ass anyway, let alone ambush him.

    So he was going to eat the stew in front of him.

    "Still, I''ll have to be prepared for archer fire, just in case."

    In a jungle like this, archers are the most annoying opponents.

    With that in mind, Hohenheim took a step forward.

    Just then.

    ...Quack!

    The thick log on the other side shattered and fell down.

    "Hahahaha- I came here because I smelled something delicious, and this is what happened!"

    Hohenheim frowned at the familiar voice that rang out.

    Long, spiky, wild hair, and a build like a giant beast.

    It was Juragio Bakiraga, the student council president of the Varangian Boot Camp.

    "...."

    Hohenheim quietly stretched out his hands forward.

    Kurrrrrr!

    The mud around him began to boil and emit steam.

    Huffing and puffing...

    With a crimson glow, the mud around them turned tova.

    However, Bakiraga smirked and stepped forward with one foot.

    ...Quack!

    The ground flipped over and theva rose upside down.

    The mud underneath was still intact, and Bakiraga ran over it, swinging the greatsword on his back forward.

    A pale aura of blue light emanated from him, thick as water vapor.

    Hohenheim''s eyes widened at the sight.

    "Sword Expert Supreme... or is it Graduator!"

    "Hahaha, you just became a fourth-ss mage, how can I leave you behind!"

    Even the elites of Magic Tower usually don''t reach ss 4 until they are in their thirties.

    Simrly, the elite of Varangian don''t step onto the threshold of the Graduator until their thirties.

    Here, however, geniuses outside of these two standards were fiercely battling it out right now, with aplishments years ahead of the average genius.

    Dragon and Tiger (�����ಫ). Throw the universe (Ǭ��һ�S). It was a sh of the next generation of geniuses who would represent sword and magic.

    Boom, boom, boom!

    Bakiraga''s greatsword sliced through the rocks and trees in front of him.

    Hohenheim stepped back hastily, dodging the falling debris at diagonal angles.

    "Give the mage time, and he will give you a headache."

    Bakiraga charged, swinging his greatsword like a feather.

    Even if it was low level Graduator, its power was absolute. The aura spun at high speed along the edges of the sword, cutting through everything it touched.

    Even Hohenheim would lose all his HP in an instant if hit by it.

    "Damn it, shields!"

    Several translucent shields appeared in front of Hohenheim''s eyes.

    But.

    Crack, crack, crack, crack!

    The shields scraped and shattered with a loud crack.

    Through the shards, Bakiraga''s aura pushed in like the teeth and nails of a monster.

    "It''s over, Hohenheim."

    Bakiraga''s voice echoes out, terrifying.

    Pow! Thud.

    Hohenheim had to roll around on the ground to avoid a sh that cut off a chunk of his hair.

    But.

    Hohenheim is not so easily pushed aside.

    Swoosh.

    He rolled on the ground and stretched out his palms, burying them in the mud.

    Bubbling, bubbling, bubbling...

    The mud, heated by his mana, began to bubble and boil.

    Soon, a thick vapor shrouded Hohenheim''s body.

    At the same time, the mud dried out, baked, and began to crack.

    mes leapt from the cracks.

    The odds were increasingly stacked against the Bakiraga.

    "...hmm."

    Bakiraga couldn''t see well enough through the blinding dust, smoke, and steam.

    In the midst of it all.

    Grumble! ... Puff! ... pop! ... pop!

    Fireballs shot out from beyond the barrier of fire, and what''s more,va created by melting mud creates a whirlpool on the ground.

    All around is a dense forest. The humid, muggy atmosphere was being dried out by the firestorm.

    As the hot, pungent smoke spread in all directions, the humidity gave way to dryness.

    And then.

    Pop! Fujijijijik! Grumble!

    Even the trees, which had been merely ckened when exposed to fire because they contained a lot of moisture, began to catch fire.

    Hohenheim''s me magic was so terrifying that it had enough firepower to force a forest fire in a humid and hot jungle.

    Koooooooo...

    As the jungle atmosphere changed drastically, an abnormal climate was created.

    The locally heated atmospherebined with the surrounding moist air to form a giant vortex, and Hohenheim''s fiery mes streaked fiercely through the current.

    Colosseo, Varangian, Magic Tower, Themiscyra.

    All students from all schools spread out across the jungle could feel Hohenheim''s absolute power as soon as they saw the presence of that huge pir of fire.

    Then, a huge firestorm erupted and engulfed Bakiraga.

    "Ugh!"

    Bakiraga let out a long stream of aura from his sword, cutting off all the wind-driven mes, but there was nothing he could do about it as the oxygen in the air disappeared and soot took its ce.

    ...Thud!

    In the end, Bakiraga was forced to fall to one knee.

    And in front of him, Hohenheim stepped forward with an air of uncertainty.

    "No matter how hard a genius tries, he cannot beat a genius. That''s why a genius is called a genius."

    At the same time.

    ...bam!

    Hohenheim crushed Bakiraga''s neck and struck the staff in his hand.

    "That''s the end of Varangian, though he was quite good for a lowly barbarian."

    Hohenheim looked down at his feet with a sickening smile.

    Then he turned his attention to the Bakiraga at his feet.

    There, he sees the pot still sitting on the campfire.

    Hohenheim reached out and scooped the distant pot into the palm of his hand.

    "What a pity. The food looks pretty delicious. What should I do if I can''t eat?"

    "...Kill it quickly. Don''t think this is the end."

    Bakiraga frowned and spoke as if chewing and spitting out.

    But Hohenheimughed sardonically, as if he had no intention of doing so.

    "Come on, this is ourstpetition of the school year, let''s make it count."

    Hohenheim wanted to show as muchposure as a winner could show.

    That was the performance of leisurely eating stew after the battle.

    Soon, the red broth was in Hohenheim''s mouth.

    A leisurely smile spread across his face.

    "Mmmm. This is really delicious...!?"

    But.

    Hohenheim''s leisure didn''tst long.

    ...gulp!

    As soon as the spicy soup went down my throat and reached my stomach, I felt a strange signal in my stomach.

 Chapter 247: Survival Contest (5)

    <h4>Chapter 247: Survival Contest (5)</h4>

    Aureolus Hohenheim. Who is he?

    When ites to the study of magic, it is not inferior to the Morg family, known as the head of the magic family, when ites to astrology, it is not inferior to the emperor of the empire, and when ites to alchemy, Aureolus, who prides himself on being the best in the empire, is not inferior to the empire''s emperor. He is the eldest son of Aureolus family.

    He has attended all of Mgic Tower''s prestigious higher education programs with distinction, and is now the student council president of his junior year, with an early graduation on the horizon, and a solid path to graduate school, and then to a professorship at Magic Tower.

    In addition to the title of the youngest professor, there is even talk that he will be the next tower master of Magic Tower.

    ...Such an unattainable, ultra-elite genius began to moan so miserably and desperately that no one could open their ears and listen.

    Poooooong...

    It didn''t say it was a blowjob.

    Soon, the moans that made one break out in a cold sweat just listening to it were followed by screams.

    pisisig-plop! Pussssss... pow!

    This time, it didn''te from his mouth.

    "Kerr, kerrrrrrrrrrrr!"

    Hohenheim clutched his stomach and began to stumble backwards.

    His whole body twisted. His body began to curl like a shrimp thrown onto a hot te of salt.

    A damp, cold sensation, already drenched in sweat.

    The internal organs in my stomach were fluttering and running wild so that I couldn''t control them even with magic.

    ''I, I need to use Cure Magic....''

    However, Cure Magic is a high circle magic that cannot be cast in such a chaotic situation.

    Besides, he had been fighting too many battles with Bakiraga, so it was hard to manage his mana properly.

    "...Poison. Poison?"

    Hohenheim turned his head in disbelief.

    A red stew was dripping from the coconut shell on the floor.

    ''Boo, I''ve checked the ingredients, and there''s nothing poisonous in there. But why?''

    Suddenly, something shed through his mind.

    ''Abination!''

    His genius brain quickly realized the situation.

    It exists sometimes.

    Things that are harmless to humans when eaten separately, but turn deadly when mixed.

    For example, honey and ck tea, or eel and peach.

    Other foodbinations that are bad for the body (and usually induce excretion) include beer and peanuts, crab and red yeast, spinach and tofu, carrots and cucumbers, cheese and beans, and nori and salt.

    Hohenheim desperately scanned the contents of the red stew.

    In general, it was all okay, but why were these things included? There were also things I wanted to do.

    Soon enough, Hohenheim singled out two ingredients that were extremely suspicious.

    ''Chacachaca catfish, a man-eating fish native to the Red and ck Mountains, and the bark of a sabac tree...?''

    One by one, they are harmless enough, but together they cause a violent stomach ache.

    ''Who the hell knows how to mix these things? What kind of son of a bitch....''

    Hohenheim''s bloodshot eyes dart around the area, and then his eyes catch sight of a familiar face.

    "...?"

    There was a guy making a stupid expression beyond the bushes.

    It''s just a kid from another school, a first-grader who doesn''t look like much, but Hohenheim''s genius memory recognizes him.

    Grenouille Des Leviathans. The heir to a family of extreme poisoners.

    Although he is quite talented in his own way, he is still young and is a childish person who just wanders aroundughing here and there.

    ...Yuck!

    Hohenheim is convinced that it must be Grenouille who''s been messing with the stew.

    Who else could have created such a poisonous stew?

    Grenouille, meanwhile, is in a daze.

    "Why, why are you looking at me like you''re going to kill me? What did I do...."

    Then.

    Tuck.

    A hand gripped Grenouille''s shoulder.

    It was Vikir.

    "Congrattions, boss. Thanks to your poison, I''m catching Magic tower''s third-year ace."

    "Uh, huh? Me? My poison?"

    "Yes. You and your poison."

    Grenouille can only shake his head, not quite understanding.

    Unaware that behind him, Hohenheim''s gaze is growing ever more ferocious.

    ...Whatever.

    Thud!

    Hohenheim falls to the ground in an odd position, clutching his stomach.

    Plop-plop-plop-plop.

    Vomit and diarrhea. Fierce wailing from top to bottom.

    "...."

    Hohenheim trembles with his face buried in the ground.

    ...10 ...9 ...8 ...7 ...6 ...5 ...4 ...3 ...2

    His HP was gradually dropping towards zero.

    And in front of him stood Bakiraga of the Varangian with a bewildered look on his face.

    "Hey ..., are you okay?"

    "...."

    "...okay. i get it."

    Bakiraga raised his hand, hesitated, and then moved it carefully again.

    Thud.

    Bakiragaid a hand on Hohenheim''s fallen shoulder.

    Blow it and it will go away, squeeze it and it will break, a very careful and deliberate encouragement.

    But in spite of Bakiraga''s care.

    ...1

    Hohenheim''s HP had just been knocked down by 1 with that blow(?).

    "Meh, I''m sorry, I''m sorry. I didn''t mean to do that...."

    "...."

    "...Yes. I see."

    Bakiraga hastily dropped his hand from Hohenheim''s shoulder, and at the same time a drop of dew fell from Hohenheim''s eye.

    As if they were longtime enemies, Bakiraga understood Hohenheim''s feelings.

    No, it was something every human being could understand and empathize with.

    We''ve all pooped our pants at some point in our childhood.

    "...tch."

    Bakiraga scratched his head and turned away, disappearing behind the bushes.

    He didn''t know that the final duel he was looking forward to during his school days with his rival would end in vain like this, so he looked quite absurd and lonely.

    ...And.

    A rustle!

    A figure emerged from the bushes and stood in front of Hohenheim.

    "...You!"

    Hohenheim''s eyes lit up with life.

    Vikir''s face was expressionless. Vikir stared at Hohenheim, who copsed in front of him, holding his stomach.

    Hohenheim''s eyes drooped and he smirked.

    What''s there to be afraid of when everything has already shown its ugly face?

    "Yes. In the end, the luck of catching me belongs to some unheard-of first year from the Colosseo."

    "...."

    "Bastard. Yeah, well, when will you ever have the chance in your lowly life to take on a genius like me. Here, take my neck! Take my neck, and try to break the Hohenheim of Magic Tower with the weapons and special moves you are most confident in!"

    Even in his final moments, he held on to his lofty pride, and embraced death with arrogance.

    "Swords, axes, bows, any weapon you wish. You may break my body, but you will never break my pride and my heart."

    HP 1.

    Only a handful of lives left.

    Hohenheim red at Vikir, his eyes narrowed in determination.

    ... but.

    Vikir drew no weapon.

    Just empty-handed. That was all he had.

    "?"

    Hohenheim''s brow furrowed slightly.

    The instincts of genius, those keen senses, warned him frantically.

    Some terrible weapon is being pointed at him.

    But as he looked around, he saw no sword, no spear, no arrow, no magic.

    ''What is it? This unexined anxiety is....''

    A cold sweat breaks out, drenching my lower back. My eyeballs were spinning.

    For the first time in his life, Hohenheim was feeling a vague sense of anxiety and fear at the same time.

    And at the sight of a mysterious new student from another school!

    "...."

    And then. A small change urred in Vikir''s expressionless face.

    His lips twitched, and his tongue moved for a moment.

    And then the moment.

    The coldest, sharpest word in the world stabbed Hohenheim right through the heart.

    "You shit."

    Violence. And the most heinous violence of all.

    It was verbal violence, but it was also factual violence.

    It was Hohenheim''s pride, heart, and soul that could not be broken by sword, axe, spear, bow, magic, or any other weapon.

    It ticks! It is being cut away with sound.

    ...0

    Due to the extreme stress and anger, Hohenheim''s mental... No, HP has been depleted by 1 again.

    That was the end of it.

    * * *

    The end of Hohenheim, the ace of the Magic Tower.

    It made everyone who was fighting for survival in the jungle of the Red and ck Mountains anxious.

    Dolores stared at Vikir, who had just killed Hohenheim with a single word.

    "I... Vikir."

    "Yeah."

    "By any chance, was the spicy catfish soup I ate the same as the one Hohenheim ate?"

    "Yes."

    At Vikir''s words, Dolores felt the back of her neck break out in a cold sweat.

    "You were going to send me to ... like that?"

    "Yes."

    Vikir nodded again, this time in agreement.

    Competitors, even if they were from the same school, they were still enemies to be fought over rankings.

    Innocent Dolores''s face went white.

    But the reason she was freaking out wasn''t because she was being eliminated from thepetition or because she felt betrayed by her junior.

    The original reason. That''s it.

    "Oh, no, you can''t do that, please, please, please!

    I''ve already caused a simr(?) kind of trouble to Vikir.

    If it was a small thing before, would it be a big thing now?

    ''I''d rather kill myself!''

    Dolores lurches backwards, covering her back with one hand and her front with the other.

    Vikir thought it was as if he was seeing her before the regression, in the days of the Age of Destruction, when she was waging a desperate fight against countless demons during the age of destruction.

    So he decided to make a quick correction.

    Vikir pulled out a handful of dried mushrooms from his pocket and said.

    "If you steam this and eat it together, you can neutralize the poison created by mixing the flesh of the Chacachaca catfish and the outer bark of the Sabac tree."

    "...!"

    Dolores gulped as she remembered Vikir tossing a few mushrooms on top of the bowl when he handed her the stew.

    "Well, what about what you said just now?"

    "Just kidding."

    "...."

    Considering that Dolores'' HP had evaporated by about 10% from what had just happened, it was possible to get some idea of ??how serious her mental damage was.

 Chapter 248: Recap (1)

    <h4>Chapter 248: Recap (1)</h4>

    The long, long college league is over.

    <University League Rankings

    1. Dolores L Quovadis

    2. Merlini Lovegood

    3. Juragio Bakiraga

    .

    .

    .

    Dolores and Lovegood, who were expected to finish in the top three, finished first and second, respectively, and Hohenheim, the ace representative of Magic Tower, performed surprisingly poorly.

    ... But even these were not the biggest issues.

    <University League Rankings

    4. Highbro Les Baskervilles

    5. Midbro Les Baskerville

    6. Lowbro Les Baskerville

    7. Vikir

    8. Sinir

    9. Grenouille

    10. Hohenheim

    .

    .

    .

    The fact that there were first-year students in the top 10, and that there were as many as 6 of them, caused a great stir.

    Up until now, the perception of first-years was that they were there for the experience and not really for the purpose of paving the way for upperssmen, but this haspletely shattered that stereotype.

    The group that included Vikir fought hard andbined with Dolores to finish in the top 10.

    Meanwhile, Grenouille was med for Hohenheim''s elimination and was relentlessly pursued by Hohenheim''s followers, eventually bing the first member of the group to be eliminated.

    (Grenouille was quite resentful, but he was also proud of himself for eliminating Hohenheim).

    Then there''s the first-year who surprisingly single-handedly carried the team to a high score.

    Sinir, amoner with no family name.

    Her entire background is shrouded in mystery, and she managed to ce 8th on her own,pletely unrted to Vikir.

    Considering that her teammates Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca were all outside the top 20 (which is actually quite a feat for a first-year!), it was truly an amazing achievement.

    Colosseo''s first and second years rode this momentum to a number of high rankings, beating out third years from other schools, with Dolores also taking the top spot.

    Meanwhile, despite the tournament being hosted by Magic Tower, none of their students made it into the top 10 except for their top ace, Hohenheim.

    And Hohenheim barely made it to the top 10.

    He was eliminated quickly, but only because his previous battle performance was so good.

    However, there was no way that such results would be noticeable to Hohenheim, who were aiming for the championship.

    Moreover, following the tradition of recording the scene at the time of elimination on video and permanently recording it in the video box, Hohenheim''s final appearance was forever preserved in the tournament''s Hall of Fame.

    ''Shit.''

    Hohenheim would suffer forever even after the tournament was over.

    * * *

    After the first round of the tournament, there was a brief after-party at the inn.

    The students of Varangian had been relocated because the water pipes in the inn they had originally booked had been repaired, so it was only the students of the Colosseo Academy who were celebrating.

    "Cheers to President Dolores, the number one ranked student this time!"

    "Cheers!"

    "Cheers!"

    All the students raised their sses high in celebration.

    Amidst all the noise, Tudor raised his ss and looked over at Vikir next to him.

    "Congrattions, buddy, I can''t believe you''re seventh in the first year, It''s amazing that there''s a guy like this among my friends!"

    "That''s the hundredth time you''ve said that, Tudor."

    Sancho, next to him, smirked.

    Piggy, who was in the front, continued.

    "By the way, Vikir. How did you end up in the same group as the Baskerville triplets this time?"

    It was a question everyone wanted to know.

    But Vikir''s answer was simple.

    "We teamed up once before for a Naphtali game and the midterm exam, and it worked out surprisingly well. After that, they often asked me to lend them a hand."

    Hearing that, Bianca said nonchntly.

    "And since you''re amoner, they might have felt there was no pressure."

    "Hey, Bianca!"

    "Huh? No, I''m not saying that! I guess that''s what they would do. Sorry if it sounded bad, I didn''t mean to...."

    Bianca was slightly taken aback by Tudor''s point, but Vikir waved it off.

    "You''re right. I suppose children of high ranking noble families can get on each other''s nerves."

    Being from amoner''s family isn''t really a w, so who cares.

    But Vikir isn''t the onlymoner in the group.

    Sinir, an honor student who finished eighth in her freshman year despite being amoner.

    "...."

    For some reason, this girl, who usually joins in whenever there''s a topic about Vikir, is quiet today.

    With her personality, it would be natural for her to say something cheerful like, ''What! Why do you look down onmoners? You''re better than them!'' or ''Brother Vikir, let''s support each other like usmoners!''

    So, while everyone was thinking something strange.

    "Come on."

    Vikir was the first to say something encouraging.

    "Uh, uh... ... huh. Go for it! Go for it!"

    Sinir seemed toe to her senses and waved both her fists at Vikir.

    His friends were quick to change the subject, as Sinir tends to be a little less talkative when the subject of his originses up.

    "Well, that concludes the first round. The second round is only for those who finished in the top 10 in the first round."

    Piggy exined the rest of thepetition.

    Survival of the first round. From there, the top 10 will be assigned individual tasks for the second round.

    If you sessfully solve the ''quest'' given here, you will finally be awarded a peerless artifact jointly managed by Colosseo, Magic Tower, Varangian, and Themiscyra.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca exined the rules and format of the second round for Vikir and Sinir, who advanced to the second round.

    "The second round is about adapting to the apprenticeship system."

    Everyone nodded as Piggy exined.

    The 10 people who survived the first round will each go outside the school and visit higher-ranking working groups to fulfill their requests.

    The working groups are the seven great families of the empire and the imperial family, and the idea is that the students at the academy will be working for them after graduation, so they should get some hands-on experience beforehand.

    In other words, the ten survivors of the first round will each go to Baskerville, the Iron Blood Swordsman, Morg, the Mage Sect, Qoavadis, the Faithful, Usher, the Divine Archer, Don Quixote, the Creative Spear, Leviathan, the Extremely Poisonous, Bourgeois, the Tycoon, and the Imperial Family to receive different quests from each of these Houses, solve them, and receive a certificate with the seal of the House stamped on it to show that they were actually helpful, and their work is done.

    The content and difficulty of the quests varied from house to house, ranging from the basic quests, such as hunting down a dangerous high-ranking monster or collecting a specific object, to the abstract, such as solving poverty in a particr region, answering a deep philosophical question, or designing a political system or method of diplomacy.

    "If the student undertaking the quest is a member of a certain house, it is customary to avoid them. It''s not a rule that must be followed, but still."

    Everyone nodded at Piggy''s words.

    For example, Dolores, who would be taking on the second round of quests this time, would not be able to take on the quests of the Faithful Quovadis.

    It would raise questions of objectivity.

    Piggy continued.

    "As for Vikir and Sinir, neither of them belong to any of the Houses, so it shouldn''t matter, but if they do, they''d better take the easy quests from the Seven Houses, as they all have their own difficulty levels."

    For example, quests from the Faithful Quovadis family are generally rated at three and a half stars (�����).

    This means it''s an average difficulty level.

    However, quests from the House of Morg the Mage are typically rated four and a half stars (������).

    This is because, on average, tasks of that difficulty are required.

    Soon, the friends were debating which House''s quests would be most advantageous.

    "I think you should avoid House Morg''s quests, they''re really tough now that they''ve had a change of leadership."

    "Personally, I don''t mind the Don Quixote quest, as long as you like the sea and adventure!"

    "I think your family will give you a task like ''found a desert ind''."

    "Well, if you look at the tasks in the second round of the tournament so far, the task from the Bourgeois family was the easiest."

    "That''s right, I think it''s a good idea to pick a bourgeois task."

    "Hmm, that''s going to bepetitive."

    Just then, Sinir shyly raised her hand.

    "You know, I already have a family in mind."

    Everyone''s eyes widened. It was rare for Sinir to state his opinion so clearly.

    "Personally, I''m thinking of taking a quest from either the Imperials or the Faithful Quovadis."

    Puzzlement shed across her friends'' faces.

    This was because both the Imperials and the Quovadis had rtively difficult taskspared to the other houses.

    "Why the Imperials and the Quovadis?"

    Bianca asked, scratching her head, and Sinir smirked.

    "Because ...."

    While her friends'' eyes were glued to Sinir.

    With a swipe-

    Vikir stood up from his seat.

    He made his way to the terrace, away from the crowds.

    ''It''s a task for the second round.''

    All that remains is to cross the final gateway and retrieve the artifact from a treasure trove shared by the four universities.

    The Seventh Corpse Decarabia, which will finally allow him to eliminate the fourth Tenth Corpse.

    Vikir is sitting on the railing of a terrace in the dusk, contemting what to do next.

    From out of nowhere, he hears a voice calling his name in a calm, even tone.

    "Vikir."

    In the midst of the noisy party lights, the ghost-like curtain is lifted and a nk face is revealed.

    Dolores.

    The winner of the first round of the University League hade to visit Vikir.

    Quite secretly.

 Chapter 249: Recap (2)

    <h4>Chapter 249: Recap (2)</h4>

    "Vikir."

    Dolores called Vikir in a low voice as she drew the curtains and went out onto the terrace.

    Vikir''s response was always short.

    "Yes."

    Dolores watched Vikir''s face for a moment in silence.

    Then she stepped up beside Vikir, who was leaning against the railing.

    "Thank you."

    "For what?"

    "...Just. Everything."

    Strictly speaking, the reason Dolores was able to take first ce in the rankings this time is thanks to Vikir.

    During the early to mid game of the tournament, Vikir lured Hohenheim and Bakiraga to a single location and forced them to face off against each other, draining their power and finally catching Hohenheim.

    Even if Vikir hadn''t been betrayed by the tripletste in the tournament, he would have been in position of top five.

    Dolores said.

    "If it wasn''t for the Baskerville triplets, your ranking would have been much higher."

    "What''s done is done," Vikir replied.

    "...You''re always so stoic, you don''t seem to have any regrets."

    Dolores stared into Vikir''s eyes for a moment.

    Dolores wondered what it was, the feeling of being so familiar with him, as if she had known Vikir for years, even though he was only a new student.

    She spoke again.

    "When I said thank you earlier, I wasn''t just talking about this tournament."

    "Isn''t that right?"

    "Yes."

    Dolores bent down, resting her chin in her hand.

    She leaned against the railing and looked up at Vikir at an angle.

    " ...I wonder where this junior came from."

    "Just an ordinary freshman."

    "An ordinary freshman who have the skills of an advanced sword expert and have gradesparable to professors? and beat third years in a tournament even though you''re only a freshman?"

    "I got lucky."

    Dolores was silent for a moment at Vikir''s nonchnt reply.

    Colosseo Academy is a hugemunity of about 20,000 people, including students, professors, and staff.

    It''s a ce where all the supposed geniuses of the world gather, so it''s not surprising that there are a lot of talented people and a lot of geniuses.

    Vikir''s aplishments were truly remarkable, butpared to other famous figures in the Academy, they didn''t really stand out.

    Dolores alone has aplished as much as Vikir has since her freshman year.

    In addition, Dolores longtime rivals Hohenheim, Bakiraga, Lovegood, and others had even more spectacr freshman years.

    Moreover, the sophomores, third-, and fourth-year seniors who received her as a freshman were now achieving even greater achievements in higher positions.

    Vikir focused on that point.

    "The people I''ve met in thispetition, like Bakiraga, Hohenheim, and Lovegood, have been amazing, too. It''s definitely called ''The Legendary Student'' for a reason, and I''m learning a lot."

    To some extent, this admiration was genuine. It''s not easy to be a Graduator, or even a 4th ss, in the twenties.

    Of course, the world would react quite differently if it were known that Vikir had be a Swordmaster at the age of 18.

    Meanwhile.

    Dolores stared at Vikir.

    "I don''t know why you sound like you''re making excuses."

    "...?"

    "To hide your extraordinary nature and disguise it as ordinary."

    Dolores narrowed her eyes.

    "The rest of the world is busy showing off their abilities, but you''re so unusual, you''re busy hiding what you have."

    "...."

    "You don''t want anyone to recognize you?"

    "...I don''t know what you''re talking about."

    "You sound like a soldier."

    Dolores'' words were heavy with curiosity about Vikir''s origins and identity.

    "You''re quite skilled with a bow. I''ve seen you take out other kids in tournaments, though the numbers don''t reflect it because most of your shots were from stray arrow."

    "I was just lucky."

    "...I guess it was. It was pretty dark in the jungle, and there aren''t many archers in the world who can bounce off rocks and logs and still hit their mark. But luck is skill, too. You were the one who gave Tudor, Sancho, and Piggy stealthy backup cover shots, weren''t you?"

    "Yes, because they did a good job."

    "You mean the Baskerville triplets, right? They''re the biggest stars of this tournament."

    Dolores turned and looked at Vikir.

    "But why?"

    "...?"

    "Why do I think you''re hiding behind the Baskerville triplets?"

    Vikir''s expression hardened for a moment.

    "If you watch just one person with them, it''s bound to look unusual...."

    "No. You are special, otherwise there is no way you would catch my eye like that, anytime, anywhere."

    Dolores said strongly again.

    "I see you everywhere I go these days, and there''s no way you''re an ordinary person."

    "...."

    "Tell me, what are you hiding?"

    Vikir was silent for a moment.

    On his left wrist, the Baby Madam was looking at Vikir with a worried expression.

    As if to say, ''Shall I remove it, Master?''

    Vikir sighed, pressing down on his wrist.

    He was about to open his mouth.

    Dolores came closer to Vikir and whispered in a low voice.

    "You. The crown prince, right?"

    ...?

    Vikir was stunned for a moment.

    What was he talking about?

    When Vikir remained still, Dolores spoke once more.

    "The current Emperor of the Empire has no children. They all died in idents."

    "...."

    "However, it is rumored that a single illegitimate child survives, and that this child has been admitted to the Colosseo Academy here."

    "...."

    "Isn''t that you?"

    Vikir had heard the rumor, too.

    But it was a rumor that had circted before his regression and had never been proven to be true, so he had tuned it out.

    Dolores, unaware of Vikir''s thoughts, continued.

    "The Emperor has the mystical power to foretell the future. If you are of his blood, you may possess simr abilities. If you are able to foresee future exams and events, it exins your current aplishments...."

    "Enough."

    Vikir interrupted Dolores'' rambling.

    Then, in a low voice, he proimed his innocence.

    "I have nothing to do with the imperial family."

    "You lie."

    "I swear on my father''s honor and before the almighty Rune."

    Dolores'' gaze wavered at Vikir''s firm words.

    There was no way Dolores could say no to that.

    Of course, Vikir didn''t care about his father Hugo''s honor, so he could hang it anywhere.

    Dolores, meanwhile, seemed to wince at Vikir''s response.

    "Then open your heart, and let me know who you are!"

    Dolores wanted to read Vikir''s soul.

    Most people kept the doors of their hearts open to some degree, but there are not many people who close and lock that door as tightly as Vikir did.

    Of course, from Vikir''s point of view, this was not an option.

    Even if it didn''t matter that Osiris had deposed all of Set''s minions from the House of Baskerville, revealing the identity of the Baskervilles would....

    ''Then the identity of the Night''s Hound would be revealed.''

    I didn''t think I''d be able to hide forever.

    It was still a bit early for the n he had in mind.

    ''...It won''t be long now.''

    The Hound of Baskerville. The Night Hound. The moment his true identity is revealed, it will be catastrophic.

    Vikir closed his eyes in silence.

    Dolores watched him, her mouth open in unexined impatience.

    "Say something...."

    Just then.

    "...Open up! Open up!"

    "...Give me the right!"

    "...Freedom!"

    The shouts came from the fence outside the inn where the students of the Colosseo Academy were staying.

    Arge group of people seemed to be protesting in unison.

    "...?"

    Dolores looked away for a moment, hoping to see something.

    And there it was, a stunning sight.

    The professors of the Colosseo were scrambling to keep the crowd at bay.

    In fact, there was a huge crowd of people trying to get into the inn.

    They were all carrying glow sticks and wearing red bands around their heads.

    And at the front of the line is a face Dolores recognizes.

    "...Merlini Lovegood?"

    The Student Council President of Themiscyra Women''s Academy.

    And she''s leading a group of students, all of them from the Themiscyra Women''s Academy.

    They''ve been fighting back against the professors of the Colosseo Academy.

    "We will take our freedom!"

    "Come on, everyone! Unite!"

    "Humans unite for a noble cause, that''s what makes us different from animals!"

    They had be fighters for justice and were literally shing with the professors.

    Dolores gripped the terrace railing and listened more closely.

    Themiscyra Women''s Academy.

    It waspletely different from the school culture that pursues something archaic and static.

    The sight of them running towards us with their hair down was like an angry beast.

    "What''s going on?"

    Dolores shook her head as Vikir casually turned the conversation outward.

    "It''s...I can''t hear very well."

    The sounds of so many people shouting ovepped each other and sounded like a muffled sound.

    The words Dolores could make out were humanitarian values like "freedom," "love," "opportunity," and "equality".

    "...."

    Dolores had no choice but to use her holy power to open her ears.

    Then, one by one, the noise that had been pouring in began to separate.

    At the same time, their passionate emotions began toe through, like listening to amb''s confession.

    "Please allow us to join the Colosseo Academy''s after-party!"

    "There''s no need for it! Just show us Vikir!"

    "We want to congratte Vikir too!"

    "Colosseo Academy should open up the after party to students from other schools! Open it up!"

    "Let''s have an after school party, Vikir-nim!"

    "They say joy is double when it''s shared!"

    "I fell in love with your sexy appearance on the Magic Train!"

    "Big brother, I don''t want to break up like this!"

    "What do you mean, he''s five years younger than us!"

    "I don''t know, all good-looking guys are big brothers!!!"

    The students of Themiscyra Women''s Academy seem to want to join the Colosseo Academy''s party.

    I don''t know how long they''ve had this goal, but it''s pretty tant.

    "...."

    "Do you know what it says?"

    "Huh? Uh...."

    Dolores struggled to turn away, releasing her grip on the railing.

    "It''s...."

    Dolores quickly stood up and replied.

    "Oh, they say there''s no hot water, I''ve got to go, it''s gettingte, you should go to bed!"

    With that, she hurriedly ran off somewhere.

 Chapter 250: Recap (3)

    <h4>Chapter 250: Recap (3)</h4>

    The next day.

    Vikir attended the announcement ceremony for the rankings of the first round.

    It was a remarkable feat for the freshmen of Colosseo Academy to beat out the sophomores and seniors of other schools to make it into the top 30.

    And six of them �C Vikir, Sinir, Highbro, Midbro, Lowbro, and Grenouille �C made it to the top 10.

    Now, if the top 10 can sessfullyplete the second round of individual tasks, one per person, they will be rewarded with a rare artifact from a treasure trove jointly managed by the four schools.

    The Talking Spear, the Time Stopping Hourss, the Money Eating Hat, the Love Shield, the Sanity Orb, the Arrow with Eyeballs, and more... are all treasures of the century that could not be bought for a thousand gold coins, and they are all sleeping in the treasure trove, waiting for their owners.

    The top ten Rankers who havepleted their assigned tasks will be able to enter the treasure trove and choose an artifact, and they too must be chosen by the artifacts.

    ''But first, I have a quest toplete.''

    Vikir thought as he walked to the stage of the awards ceremony.

    Meanwhile, cheers erupted from below as the #7 ranked Vikir appeared.

    "Aaaah- it''s Vikir!"

    "Brother, please take a look here!"

    "I love you!"

    The cheers came from the side of the Themiscyra Women''s Academy.

    There were no such cheers when Lovegood, the second-ranked student and student council president of Themiscyra, came out.

    ... But Lovegood didn''t express any disappointment for Themiscyra students.

    Because.

    "Oh my God, Vikir-nim. To see you up close like this... I must be a saint."

    Because she''s a self-described "sessful nerd.

    Lovegood smiled, even though she was right next to Vikir on the podium.

    The professor''s speeches would soon be over, and then the students would be called up to the stage to receive their awards.

    In the midst of all the excitement, Lovegood turned to Vikir.

    "By the way, Vikir. I started a fan club for you yesterday."

    "?"

    "The name of the fan club is ''Le''... aka Re."

    "??"

    "Because... Vikir''s hotness has passed the ''Do'' mark and is about to hit the ''Mi'' mark!"

    "????"

    Vikir was a little taken aback by this youngdy''s bravado.

    But Lovegood looks at Vikir with love in her eyes, as if she''s just dying to look at him.

    The fact that her eyes were heart-shaped made it even more so.

    Then a shout came from behind them. it was the female students of Themiscyra who started booing.

    "Woo-woo- down with the president''s monopoly!"

    "We condemn the dictator!"

    "Share Vikir!"

    "Shouldn''t the president prioritize the public interest over self-interest?"

    "Pay the price, you olddy!"

    "Impeach her, impeach her!"

    Then Lovegood frowned arrogantly, looked back at her supporters(?), and spoke.

    "Shut up, bitches, let me have some love. Don''t you feel sorry for your sister?"

    "Wooooooooo, you''re the only one who can''t get a rtionship, it''s hard for us too, we''re a women''s academy, if you''re going to do this, make it a coeducational school!"

    Lovegood''s non-exnation only added fuel to the fire.

    Eventually, Lovegood sighed and turned to Vikir.

    "I... Vikir nim, do you think you''d like to dating after this league? With Colosseo and Themiscyra."

    Dating refers to selecting candidates from each university department and having them meet men and women, but this was not an area of ??interest for Vikir in the first ce.

    ..., but it was apparently a topic of interest to everyone else but Vikir.

    "I am Vikir''s right-hand man!"

    Tudor was the first to raise his hand.

    "Then the left arm is me!"

    And Sancho, too.

    "And the left leg is me!"

    Piggy raised his hand, too.

    The other boys followed suit, crowding around Vikir.

    "Vikir''s right leg is me!"

    "Then Vikir''s left eye is me!"

    "I''ll be the right eye!"

    "I''m the left ear!"

    "Is there any right ear left?"

    "I am Vikir''s heart!"

    "I am the stomach!"

    "I am the lungs!"

    "I am the spine!"

    "I am Vikir''s stomach!"

    "I am the chest!"

    "I am the waist!"

    "Then I am the ass!"

    "I can''t tell you which part I am, but it''s the most important part we can all agree on!"

    Vikir was being dismantled and shattered in real time.

    Then.

    "Enough of that. After the professors'' speeches, it''s time for the awards ceremony. I have to go on stage, so I''ll forbid any more disturbances."

    Dolores appeared and waved the crowd back.

    As the students of Colosseo retreated, so did those of Themiscyra.

    But?

    jjilis-

    Lovegood was somehow casting a checking gaze towards Dolores.

    Dolores, who had never been on bad terms with her, looked puzzled, then Lovegood spoke.

    "I can give you the number one ranking in the University League, but I can''t give you Vikir, so don''t let your guard down just because you go to the same school."

    "...?"

    Dolores shook her head, and Lovegood shouted.

    "Don''t be silly, I heard everything you said on the terrace yesterday!"

    Dolores is at a loss for words.

    Lovegood then recited a series of lines that Dolores had said to Vikir yesterday.

    "You are special. Otherwise, there is no way you would catch my eye like that anytime, anywhere."

    "?"

    "You''re the only thing I see everywhere these days."

    "??"

    "Open up to me!"

    "????"

    Dolores''s face turns white. Did she really say those words yesterday?

    ''... I think I did.''

    But I didn''t mean it in that nuance. I think you''re misunderstanding something....

    Dolores turned quickly, and the eyes of the Colosseo students narrowed.

    Dolores stammered, embarrassed.

    "Oh, it''s a misunderstanding. That''s only a small part of the conversation, you have to look at the whole context, not just that line...."

    However, timing didn''t help her. Professor Banshee''s stern voice came through.

    "There, noisy winners,e forward."

    The professors finished their speeches and the awards ceremony began.

    * * *

    The ten students with the highest scores in the University League this year came up to the podium.

    1st ce Dolores L Quovadis, 2nd ce Merlini Lovegood, 3rd ce Juragio Bakiraga, 4th ce Highbro Le Baskerville, 5th ce Midbro Le Baskerville, 6th ce Lowbro Le Baskerville, 7th ce Vikir, 8th ce Sinir, 9th ce Grenouille, and 10th ce Hohenheim.

    The deans were represented by Professor Banshee from Colosseo Academy, who had the highest ranking.

    Despite the outstanding performance of Colosseo''s students, Professor Banshee was not in a good mood for some reason.

    "... Congrattions, and now it''s time for individualized assignments."

    Professor Banshee''s congrattory speech was extremely dry and short.

    But it was a good thing for the students.

    Then, it was time to choose their assignments.

    The apprenticeship system of the Seven Great Houses and Academy, trains talented individuals with the capabilities needed to enter the employment of this massive group.

    The University League was an extension of this process.

    Several scrolls were ced in front of the ten students.

    They had to choose different tasks, and Vikir too reached for the scrolls in front of him.

    ''This brings us one step closer to the 7th Corpse Decarabia.''

    Now all they had to do was go to the houses listed on the scrolls and fulfill the quests they were requested to do.

    The ten students opened the scrolls.

    Sinir, ranked eighth, chose House of Quovadis, as previously mentioned.

    On the outside of the scroll, the name of the House and the difficulty level of the quest are listed to help students make their choice.

    Three and a half stars of difficulty.

    Upon opening the scroll, Sinir found a brief description of the task.

    House of Faithful Quovadis / Difficulty [�����]

    The Empire is currently groaning under the weight of a growing number of heresies and cults.

    Put yourself in the role of the Quovadis Inquisition and suggest ways to eradicate these cults and raise the prestige of the Rune Order.

    Tasks rted to the ''Inquisition'' of the Quovadis family. There is a high possibility that Sinir will work under the Archbishop and Inquisitor Mozgus L. Quovadis.

    Now all Sinir has to do is travel to the Quovadis household to fulfill the request.

    "I knew this woulde up."

    Sinir smiled, as if she had a good trick up her sleeve.

    It seemed to be a veryplicated n, as Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, etc. were curious and asked questions, but she said it would be too long to answer in words.

    Meanwhile. Dolores, the 1st ranked student, also picked up a scroll.

    Four-star difficulty.

    Dolores knew this was going to be a tough task even before she opened the scroll.

    Tycoon Family / Difficulty [�����]

    The Mint has recently issued high-denomination banknotes and has been suffering from the increasing number of counterfeit banknotes.

    From the perspective of Bourgeois family, choose a product that would benefit from a currency reform and suggest a new product or an improvement to an existing product.

    Count Bourgeois Damien is the director of the Imperial Mint.

    It was a task that required the use of the head rather than the body.

    In addition to that, everyone opened the scroll with the task written on it.

    In the case of Highbro, the task was rted to the national maritime domain of Don Quixote, a spearman, called "ying a sea monster".

    The difficulty level was ����, an easy task that required ughtering arge number of monsters.

    Midbro was given a rather brutal task of "Chase down escaped experimental monsters" by the extremely poisonous Leviathan family.

    The difficulty was �����, which can be quite a challenge if you have poison resistance.

    In Lowbro''s case, the Imperial Guard was assigned the arduous task of helping the Usher family with their ''civil works to prevent the mansion from flooding''.

    The difficulty was ����, a somewhat easy but very time-consuming and tedious difficulty.

    There were also several multiple tasks assigned by the imperial family, which were evenly distributed among everyone.

    In the first ce, the number of scrolls was more than 10, so everyone was able to choose the task they liked.

    ... but.

    There was one incident that shocked everyone.

    ...Tud!

    A hand rose above the dark red scroll.

    Without hesitation, Vikir reached for the scroll in the farthest corner.

    It was.

    Iron-Blooded Swordsman / Difficulty [������]

    Ironblooded Baskerville.

    It was the worst House, the worst difficulty, the worst quest that everyone avoided.

    �C

    �C

    �C

    t/n : ''?'' ''?'' ''?'' Do Re Mi : in Korean Re sounds like Le

 Chapter 251: Five Stars (1)

    <h4>Chapter 251: Five Stars (1)</h4>

    The quest of Ironblooded Swordman Baskerville.

    Even without opening the scroll, everyone could guess. It would be against the fierce monsters of the Western Front.

    What could a bunch of bloodthirsty, mad hounds be interested in other than getting blood on their teeth?

    That was the world''s perception.

    But Vikir chose it nheless.

    ''I should go home.''

    Vikir had work to do, after all, and he was on his way home.

    For Vikir, who hates Baskerville, going home doesn''t feel like a vacation.

    However, it''s worth noting how organized the Baskervilles have be.

    Vikir''s concern is how much of the demons agents will remain after the death of Andromalius, who was wearing the outer skin of Set.

    ''It would be nice to solve the quest as well.''

    It''s Hugo''s seal. Just ask for it.

    Honestly, it was a task to be eaten raw.

    * * *

    Vikir reassured all his worried friends that monster hunting was his specialty.

    They were soon convinced, as Vikir had always gotten good grades in Introduction to Monsterology and had recently brought back arge quantity of gnoll pelts.

    At dawn the next day, while everyone was still asleep, Vikir left the Magic Tower, keeping his route well hidden.

    When the Academy''s ranked yers set out on their League Second Round assignments, they are often followed by reporters, paparazzi, headhunters from various guilds, and others with ill intentions.

    Vikir carefully scanned his followers for the presence of any demon agent, and when he was satisfied that nothing was amiss, he began to make his way home.

    Of course, Vikir''s mastery of concealing his movements and covering his tracks prevented him from being followed.

    Early morning filled with hazy fog.

    When Vikir bought a train ticket back home.

    "...!"

    Vikir spotted a familiar face.

    A girl with white hair, sitting still in thest seat of the train at the next tform, staring out the window.

    It was Sinir.

    Vikir was now standing on the tform opposite her.

    ''Going east?''

    Vikir, who had disappeared behind the steel frame that was sticking out of the tform as the tform expansion work was not yetpleted, slightly peeked his head out and looked at Sinir.

    Sinir, unaware that Vikir was looking at her, was quietly gazing out the window at the gray dawnndscape.

    She was on a train headed east. And there are few famous families in the East.

    ''I wonder if the assignment Sinir picked was for Quovadis?''

    Certainly, her assignment was to discuss how to effectively eliminate cults and heresies from the perspective of Quovadis.

    Sinir''s current direction was apletely different one from Quovadis''s in the west.

    Only Sinir herself knows for what purpose she boarded the train to the East so early.

    "...."

    Vikir turned on his heel, not daring to pry into the secrets Sinir was hiding.

    It was just the right amount of social distance.

    * * *

    The image of Hugo that Vikir had seen in so long was quite different from what he remembered.

    Hugo had always been a cold-blooded creature, with cold eyes, a stern face, and a sword always ready to sh.

    But.

    "Hehehehe-"

    The sight of Hugo in front of him now was making Vikir quite confused.

    Hugo had gained weight from whatever it was that he ate so well, and his mustache had grown back and was braided into a pretty little girl''s braid.

    At the end of his beard was a clumsily tied ribbon.

    "It''s been a long time, son."

    When Hugo saw Vikir, he spoke with a hint of sternness in his voice.

    But it was short-lived.

    "Do you see this? Pomeranian braided it for me. How could it be so beautifully knotted? Baskerville must have a prodigy like no other. Truly the gift of the Gods."

    Hugo grinned as he cradled the sleeping Pomeranian in his arms.

    Vikir looked around wordlessly.

    "...."

    Hugo''s office, which was originally a very shabby ce, has also changed a lot.

    The ck stone floor had been reced with soft, colorful puzzle mats.

    It was designed to prevent the toddler from hurting herself if she fell, but also to allow her to sit and y puzzles from time to time.

    The ceiling is decorated with celestial mobiles and glow-in-the-dark star stickers.

    The pink curtains featured a scene from a trendy fairy tale in which a fairy princess wields a magic wand to beat a demon to death.

    There was arge illustrated book with imperialnguage characters on the wall, and the swordsmanship textbooks and other books that filled the bookshelf had all been reced with children''s storybooks.

    And the biggest change of all.

    "Have youe, Master?"

    It was Butler Barrymore, bringing tea.

    He wore cow-patterned pajamas all over his body, had something resembling a snout in his nose, and held a rattle in his hand.

    Of course, Pomeranian is not old enough to be amused by such things.

    "I am providing all the things that should have been given to my granddaughter, who was unable to enjoy even the basic things among the barbarians."

    Hugo spoke with a stern expression, and Vikir could only nod with a shudder.

    Indeed, the papers he was handling now looked like Baskerville''s administrative work, but they were all rted to Pomeranian.

    .

    -0May 0:00:00, Pomeranian looked at the decoration on the teacup during morning tea and said, "Ruby is beautifu".

    Urgent Action ? Break the alliance agreement with the Morg family, and immediately march into Red Fang Mountain to steal the ruby ore.

    -On August X, at XX:XX, Pomeranian uttered the phrase "Tiny Little Zowa" while eating the chocte pudding served for dessert after the banquet.

    ?Urgent Action Item? Recapture the coffee bean fields beyond the ''Red Witch''s River'' from the barbarians, and build a logistical fort in the blood bean fields.

    -#Month #Day ##Hour ##Minute, Pomeranian looked at the Monster Encyclopedia during eye-level learning and said, "Cute bear".

    ?Urgent Action Item? Organize a detachment to attack the Red and ck Mountains Seventh Ridge, killing and pelting as many Oxbears as possible in in sight.

    ?Urgent correction 1? Reporting correction. It was assumed that Pomeranian only likes "living things".

    ?Urgent Action Item 1? Organize a detachment to attack the Red and ck Mountains Seventh Ridge, capturing as many Oxbears as possible in in sight.

    ?Urgent correction 2? Report correction. It looks like Pomeranian only needs "a single live, small, young one".

    ?Urgent Action 2? Organize a detachment and send it to the Red and ck Mountains Seventh Ridge to capture a newborn Oxbear.

    However, due to the gravity of the matter, the size of the detachment should not be reduced.

    ?Urgent correction 3? Reporting correction. Pomeranian said, ''If a bear cubes here, the mother bear will be sad, so I''ll just put up with it as a teddy bear!''

    ?Urgent Action Item 3? No matter what I think, my granddaughter is too nice and cute.

    �C This report is an official record of the House of Baskerville and a military secret of the first ss, and unauthorized viewing is punishable by death.

    Head of House Hugo Le Baskerville ?

    Vikir nced at the contents of the papers and turned away.

    ''...What have I just seen?''

    It was the seal of the Head of House. At least within the Baskervilles, that seal was like the emperor''s seal.

    I still remember the countless sleepless nights I spent on guard duty and fighting off enemies to protect the documents that bore that seal.

    But I can''t believe that''s what those sealed documents say....

    Jeez.

    Vikir couldn''t help but shake his head.

    Then.

    Vikir suddenly felt Hugo''s eyes on him.

    ''Oops!''

    To say the least, he''d let his guard down.

    No matter how foolish Hugo looked now, he was still the Swordmaster, the Swordsman of the Empire, the Lord of House Baskerville, and the King of All Dogs.

    Vikir tensed once more and waited for Hugo to speak.

    Finally, after looking at Vikir thoughtfully, Hugo spoke.

    "Yes. It''s time to give the student from the Academy a task in Baskerville."

    Five-star difficulty, worst quest ever.

    It was to fulfill a special assignment from Baskerville.

    Apparently, Hugo wasn''t going to let Vikir off the hook for being his son.

    ''Monster hunting? Factor assassination? Pioneering the frontier?''

    Vikir didn''t know what his quest would be, but he knew it wouldn''t be easy.

    Finally, Hugo spoke up.

    "I have a task for you. It is... ''Parenting''."

    Vikir doubted his ears.

    "...parenting?"

    "Yes. Parenting."

    "Parenting (����). You mean meaty fangs? What kind of teeth are those...."

    "What are you talking about? Ew. Parenting. Caring for a child."

    Hugo clicked his tongue and nced at the swaddling bag in front of him.

    The sleeping Pomeranian began to whimper.

    Hugo looked worried about the world.

    "I''m worried about how sullen she''s beentely. She doesn''t smile at all. In the past, if I showed her my braided beard, she''d just giggle and giggle and giggle."

    "...."

    "I''ve called in all the doctors in the West, and they''re all saying there''s nothing wrong with her, what a bunch of quacks. If my granddaughter isn''t smiling, what''s wrong with her now? I was about to strangle them all, but Butler Barrymore stopped me. Can you make herugh?"

    Hearing Hugo''s words, Vikir''s mind shed back to the cover of the assignment scroll.

    The Iron Blood Swordsman / Difficulty [������]

    Is this really a five-star difficulty? Was parenting really this hard?

    Vikir sighed and stepped forward.

    At that moment, the exquisite Pomeranian opened her eyes.

    "Ugh! Samchun! Samchun!"

    "...not Samchun, Uncle."

    When Vikir held out his hand, Pomeranian opened her arms wide. And....

    "Oooh! She smiles! My granddaughter smiles!"

    Hugo began to smile as well. Because as soon as Pomeranian saw Vikir, she startedughing.

    At the same time.

    ...bang!

    Behind him, Butler Barrymore in the cow pajamas nodded happily and stamped Hugo''s seal on the task scroll with a bang.

    Confirmation that all tasks had beenpleted.

    A five-star task that no one else in the Academy had ever dared to attempt, cleared in an instant.

    �C

    �C

    �C

    t/n: ?? = Parenting, (����) = flesh/meat teeth, Uncle = Samchon

 Chapter 252: Five Stars (2)

    <h4>Chapter 252: Five Stars (2)</h4>

    The quest for five stars hade to an unfortunate end.

    ''I thought it would be easy, but I never thought it would be this easy....''

    Vikir was just about to turn away in disbelief when Hugo stopped him.

    "Hey. Son, since you''ve been home for so long, why don''t you get yourself a ''promotion''?"

    One of Vikir''s eyebrows twitched as Hugo spoke soothingly to the Pomeranian.

    "Promotion. Literally, an increase in rank within the House.

    "From now on, I will appoint you as a ''Senator''."

    It was Hugo, making such a huge statement seem so casual.

    "...."

    Vikir was silent for a moment.

    What is a Senator?

    Beneath the Senate and above the House of Representatives, the backbone of power, capable of carrying countless hounds.

    Unlike the House of Representatives, who are primarily responsible for the affairs of the House, Senators are also responsible for affairs outside of the House, and are granted enormous power to fulfill their duties.

    In fact, a senator''s only constion is his or her family name.

    Of course, in reality, it''s also the seventh counts and the senate, so considering that the throne of power and the Seven Counts, which is the fifth position in the Baskerville family''s hierarchy, are also in the same senatorial rank, and the Senator is an honorary position for those who have retired from active service, the senators can be said to be the highest power in the family.

    "Probably, even if you look back at the family''s history for about a hundred years, you''re the youngest senator."

    "Thank you. I''ll do my best."

    At Hugo''s words, Vikir nodded silently.

    Hugo might have been a little silly after Pomeranian showed up, but he was still a determined man.

    Hugo had promoted Vikir to Senator, but he had also thought about his future duties.

    "You''re a senator, but for the time being, you''re free to roam as you are now. Your title is still ''Provincial Correspondent''."

    Currently, Vikir was known within Baskerville as a ''special agent'' rather than an ''academy student''.

    Unlike the Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro, who were actually traveling to the Imperial Family to study, Vikir was tasked with identifying and secretly assassinating forces hostile to the Baskervilles in the Imperial Family.

    The ''student at the Colosseo Academy'' status is merely one of the agent''s cover stories.

    Hugo continued.

    "I will extend your assignment for as long as you wish. However, if you feel your work is done, return to your family and assume your duties. The position of Magistrate of Underdog City is still vacant."

    "Yes."

    And so, at the age of 18, Vikir officially became a Senator, a member of the House.

    As the backbone of power, the Senator enjoys a number of privileges.

    For starters, he could appoint eight aides at his discretion, without reporting.

    Once appointed, an aide is officially recognized as a member of the House of Baskerville and can take the Baskerville surname. Of course, it is not impossible to have more than eight aides, but they must report to and receive permission from the House.

    Aides can be taught up to four levels of Baskerville-style swordsmanship and are provided with all medical, ceremonial, and state amodations.

    They receive a generous sry, a vehicle, all transportation expenses paid, tax exemption, selection of knights and a host of other privileges, including the ability to view imperial military secrets of the second level and above, and the right to recruit civilians for wartime service.

    They can alsomand their own conscripted or demobilized troops, which means they can form their own armed forces.

    Now that Vikir is a senator, he can form his own task force (TF).

    Of course, he already has a few people lined up.

    ''I''ll start by recruiting Cindiwendy, Chihuahua, and Minpin....''

    The addition of the economically savvy Cindiwendy, the administrative master Chihuahua, and Minpin, a master of terrain and monster ecology, as well as a bit of brute force, would be a great addition to the team.

    ''And there''s plenty of talent among the natives of Jungle.''

    The first thing that came to mind was Aiyen''s face.

    Her archery skills, shooting mosquitoes from hundreds of feet away.

    There are many other warriors and shamans in the jungle that would shock the empire.

    Vikir closed his eyes and pictured the events in his mind far into the future.

    ''First, Cindiwendy, I''ll need her help soon.''

    Vikir had always refused her help when it came to money, but Vikir knew that the time woulde when he would need her funds.

    It was the intuition of a veteran hunter.

    Then Hugo broke Vikir''s reverie.

    "So. Have you made any progress in the Imperial Capital?"

    Vikir gave Hugo the answer he''d been expecting.

    "As I reported. In thest quarter, I''ve eliminated a total of 174 people, over the course of three quarters: the customs faction that falsely reported to the Emperor that the Baskervilles were plotting a birthmark, the Outer House faction that tried to dry up the Baskervilles'' money stream through embezzlement and tax evasion, and key figures in the Intelligence Guild that tried to steal military secrets from the Baskervilles. All of them were either killed by old age, idental death, assassination by other hostile forces, or disappearance, and of course, there were no trails."

    Of course, those 174 people were all in league with the demons.

    Vikir hadn''tid a finger on those who weren''t in league with the demons, but simply antagonized the Baskervilles.

    Still, it was an aplishment.

    Hugo smiled wryly and nodded. Then he added an odd note at the end.

    "Other than that."

    "?"

    "You''re at the Academy, aren''t you?"

    Hugo''s subtle gaze lingered on Vikir.

    "Do you have a girlfriend within the academy?"

    "??"

    "I''ve seen other families'' sons go to the Academy and have rtionships. That''s why it''s called CC."

    "????"

    Vikir frowned slightly.

    But Hugo only chuckled.

    "I think Osiris has a woman he''s seeing, but he never seems to get his tail between his legs, and when I ask, he never answers. That''s why I wonder when I will see my grandchildren."

    "...."

    "You should do the same. Marrying early is the answer."

    Vikir felt the hairs on his neck stand up because this side of Hugo was so unfamiliar.

    It was so different from what he remembered from his previous life that it felt foreign.

    So Vikir quickly changed the subject.

    " ... By the way. What happened to my request?"

    "Hmm. Washing the past."

    Hugo stroked his neatly braided beard.

    Vikir had once asked Hugo to erase his past before he left for the Academy.

    He had asked Hugo to erase any trace of Vikir''s existence as a hound of the Baskervilles, such as the statue at Red Fang Castle.

    "Even so, the rumors of your return were under tight control. From what I''ve seen of public opinion, the ''survival and return of Vikir Van Baskerville'' is being treated as a hoax created by the Baskervilles for the sake of bluffing."

    Vikir nodded at Hugo''s words.

    Many of the Baskervilles'' houndse and go in the blink of an eye.

    So many are born, so many die.

    Of course, with the arrival of Vikir and the change in Hugo''s personality, such drastic changes no longer ur, but Vikir is still mentioned in passing in that brief moment of change.

    Commendations received from the imperial family were also distributed in hundreds or thousands of pieces a year, and weren''t awards originally remembered only by the person who received them and quickly forgotten by others?

    Though the people of Underdog City still miss and honor Vikir, it doesn''t bother him much.

    "...I suppose my past has been wiped clean, at least for now."

    "It is. We have special agents working on it now, so you don''t have to worry about being unmasked by rumors anymore. Well, some of the loudmouths have already been eliminated."

    Hugo left it up to Vikir''s discretion as to whether or not to continue to conceal the Baskervilles'' identity, and when to reveal it.

    It seemed to be a fitting end to his promotion to Senator.

    "Samchun!"

    ...if it weren''t for Pomeranian who had suddenly burst into the conversation.

    "I''m going to take this!"

    Vikir looked down at Pomerian''s hands, searching for something.

    Pomerian was holding a small book.

    .

    Pomeranian flipped through the pages and opened to a chapter.

    It was an old myth, one that no one believed anymore, one that had been lost to history.

    A book about the life of ''Morg Tzersi'', one of the distant ancestors of the House of Morg.

    Pomeranian showed Vikir one of the illustrations in the section.

    It depicted a ckened, dead tree.

    ''Wraith Tree'', a legendary artifact that ck mages could only dream of.

    It was about a strange tree that was nted by Tzersi, a master of magic.

    "Close creeper!"

    Pomeranian looked up at Vikir, his eyes glowing.

    Feeling uneasy, Vikir turned his head slightly, and there was Hugo, his eyes shining.

    "I don''t know what it is, but bring it to me, son."

    "...."

    "I wish I could go myself, but I am currently engaged in a nerve war with Morg and cannot leave."

    Currently, the Morg is busy due to the change in the leadership of the Dark Hall.

    For the Baskervilles, it was an opportunity to capitalize on the chaos and expand their power.

    Hugo threw something at Vikir.

    ...POP!

    It was the ck Whistle, a terrifying object that couldmand the entirety of Baskerville''s military power.

    Vikir was taken aback by the unexpectedness of the situation, but Hugo was serious.

    "I''ll give you the entire Knights Order if you need it. Go and get what Pomeranian wants. Ah, I guess that can rece the scroll quest."

    Vikir sighed softly.

    Does Hugo even know what this is and want me to bring it?

    ''The Wraith Tree is a real artifact.''

    And even Vikir knew where it was located, thanks to his pre-regression memories.

    ''It''s surprisingly close to the Baskerville estate, and it''s a ce I''ve been meaning to visit anyway, because....''

    Vikir is practicing the 7th Baskerville Teeth.

    The hint of the next level was there.

    So it''s a ce I''ve been meaning to visit during my visits home.

    ''The level next to the Sword Master. And where the clues to the Baskerville Form 8 lie.''

    I was going to investigate anyway, and now that I''ve taken over House Baskerville''s military power, it''s only fair.

    I''ve already solved the quest for the scroll, and now all that''s left to do is to meet with Decarabia the 7th Corpse, but it would be nice to have a clue about the 8th Form before then.

    After all, Pomeranian is a pot belly.

    "Then I''ll be on my way."

    Vikir patted Pomeranian on the head and turned away.

    Quick Victory

    I nned to finish everything in three days and return to the academy.

 Chapter 253: The Grave of Swords (1)

    <h4>Chapter 253: The Grave of Swords (1)</h4>

    Vikir has entered the depths of the Red and ck Mountains.

    From the Western Front at 207, he follows the ridge of the londs to the banks of the Salt River in the distance and sees a familiar ce.

    The vige of Bk. It was once a ce where Vikir had spent much of his time.

    ... But there was nothing here now.

    Bk''s warriors had moved deeper into the jungle after the events of Ahheman, and Vikir hadn''t seen them since.

    Even the asional letters from Aiyen had ceased at some point, and there was no way to know their news.

    ''ording to Cindiwendy''s testimony, Bk''s warriors did not show up for the trade, either. What happened to them?''

    The natives of Jungle all hailed Vikir as a hero and were fully cooperating with the Cindiwendy''s trade, but Bk was not among them.

    Even the Cindiwendy were puzzled by the recent loss of contact with Bk.

    But Vikir dismissed her concerns.

    " ... They are not a people to be taken lightly."

    There are many outstanding warriors in Bk.

    Their leader, the night fox Aqu, is a fearsome force, and her daughter, Aiyen, is strong enough to cross into the realm of the dead at a young age, so they are not the ones to worry about.

    ''Once they cut off contact and hide, there is no way to find them here.''

    They say no news is good news, so it was best to believe that we would hear from them again soon.

    "For now, let''s focus on finding the Wraith Tree."

    Vikir snapped back to reality.

    The Wraith Tree. It was an ancient artifact, a type of mana alchemy that was now the stuff of legend.

    A tree of mana that took root in a mage''s mind, nourished by the karma of the soul.

    An iprehensible being that feeds on abstraction and metaphysics and delivers its harvests to the material world.

    It appears in a mythological book entitled The Return of the Magic Hound, an ancient text that tells the life story of Morg Tzersi, one of the old ancestors of the Mage head Morg.

    The date of the myth''s creation is unknown, but it is believed to have urred during a time when the continent was a collection of small states before it was unified into a single empire.

    The story has been passed down through the Morg family for so long that no one has given much thought to its authenticity.

    But Vikir, who had seen the future, knew.

    For when the Age of Destruction came, there was a being who had actually used this wraith tree.

    ''...Snake, King of the Dead. Contractor of Seere. The Wraith Tree was originally an ancient artifact that was supposed to fall into his hands.''

    This man, now lost to history, was the one who was supposed to be the owner of the Wraith Tree.

    Seere used Snake''s body to control the Wraith Tree, which gave him terrifying powers.

    On the surface, the Wraith Tree is nothing more than a dry, gnarled, dead tree.

    But the nt feeds on the will of the dead, and after absorbing countless deaths and wraiths, the Wraith Tree grows trunks as tall as the world itself, and skull-like fruits dangle from its branches.

    Wraith Tree seeds require a great deal of death to germinate.

    As the Wraith Tree grows from the manure of countless wraiths, it hangs fruit at the end of its branches that contain the wraiths it has absorbed, and when eaten by humans, the wraiths'' powers and skills be their own.

    As such, a mage with a wraith tree nted in his or her soul is inevitably drawn to the ck magic, and is bound to walk a path marked by countless blood and lives.

    When the pre-regression Snake gained possession of the Wraith Tree, he turned the corpses of the countless dead he had killed into an army and consumed them all, turning their souls into fruit.

    ''... His mana wasparable to that umted by the once-in-a-millennium genius, Morg Camus, through natural talent and hard work.''

    Their battles were of such magnitude that they shattered the sky and turned the earth upside down.

    Vikir, a lowly officer, didn''t dare to look them in the eye.

    ''An entire ind was wiped out in their fight.''

    Whatever.

    In times of peace, the Wraith Tree would remain hidden as a seed or small bush; in times of war, it would grow into a mythical thing, its trunk and branches as vast as the mythical World Tree.

    This time, I will need this Wraith Tree to add to the power of my allies.

    Therefore, it was essential to get it first before the Age of Destruction arrived.

    ''Seeing as I am attracted to this, it seems that Pomeranian qualities are considerable.''

    To show such obsession and affection for something that a normal ck mage would never dream of, Pomerianian certainly has the potential to be a great ck mage.

    After all, there''s something to be said for having a connection with an ancient artifact like this.

    ...Chak-chak!

    Vikir jumped down from under arge tree using the young madam''s thread.

    "From here."

    Vikir''s current destination was a deserted area deep beneath the jungle.

    It was an unusual desert with vast expanses of white sand.

    The Yuuni Desert. A salt desert, one of the driest deserts in the world.

    An area dominated by extreme dryness that doesn''t allow for even the slightest bit of moisture.

    All that can be seen is white, salty salt and withered vegetation.

    Hmph.

    Vikir bent down and dug his fingers into the white sand at the bottom.

    When I finally removed my finger, I saw that the tip of my finger was severely wrinkled.

    It was a grotesque salt sand that sucked the moisture out of everything it touched.

    Long ago, this vast salt desert was created from the dried tears of an evil god, and this salty dry season has imed the lives of countless creatures.

    The mummified corpses of countless monstersy strewn across the white sands as proof.

    Vikir walked in the center of this salt desert for a while.

    Then he spotted something quite remarkable.

    "...!"

    It was the remains of a giant monster, nothing but bones and skin.

    Danger Rating: S

    Size: 44 meters

    Found in: Ridge 10, Red and ck Mountains

    -Named the Dragon of the Saha river.

    A terrifying creature believed to be a hybrid of a dragon and a demon.

    Its breath causes birds in the sky to fall to their deaths, and where its scaly body once crawled, a ce bes a desert where no grass grows for half a century.

    Its mere existence is a terrible disaster, but for some reason it seems to have made its home on the Tenth Ridge of the Red and ck Mountains, where it has remained motionless.

    The moment it moves, mankind must be prepared.

    No amount of spear and magic can y this fierce terror!

    Three disasters outside the world.

    Adonai the Archer, Madame Eight-Legged, and the final one, the Basilisk, the dragon of Saha.

    "I was worried that this thing would go on a rampage after Madame disappeared, but... why is it dead here?"

    Basilisks and spiders are not natural enemies.

    In this way, Madame and Saha have been bitter enemies for a long time.

    With each holding the other in check, neither could move easily, and with Madame Eight Legs gone, I expected that the other side would be stronger.

    ... but?

    "I was going to go hunting anyway, but you''ve relieved me."

    I hadn''t expected to find a basilisk lying dead in a ce like this.

    The hunt had been carefully nned out.

    Vikir carefully examined the basilisk''s corpse.

    It did not appear to have died at the end of its life.

    Not only was it much smaller than the ones Vikir had seen during the Age of Destruction, but it was also clearly riddled with sword marks.

    Wounds were evident where the sword had torn through leather, dug into flesh, and broken bones, and where the wounds had rapidly regenerated due to the basilisk''s immense regenerative powers.

    The scorch marks from the aura around it were also clearly visible.

    The thick scales of the basilisk were densely covered with marks that looked like liquid sshes, indicating that the man must have been a highest level Graduator.

    As I retraced all of these trajectories, a clear pattern emerged.

    ''The Baskerville Four!''

    It seems that long ago, a hound of the Baskervilles fought a lonely battle here.

    Vikir searched the area around the basilisk''s corpse.

    Sure enough, not far from the basilisk''s corpse, the tattered remains of a ck wind whipped about.

    A skull worn down by the cold wind.

    The tattered uniform of a Baskervilliany on the white salt sand.

    His thick cloak was unmistakably a symbol of his affiliation with the Pitbull Knights.

    A knight of the Baskervilles, long dead and unrecognizable.

    Judging by the fact that he only had four teeth at the time of his death, he was probably from a lesser background.

    However, he practiced the 4th Form for so long that he was able to single-handedly y the Dragon of Saha.

    Vikir was silent for a moment as he looked at the ashes, as if he were seeing himself before his regression.

    Then he turned to the nameless pit bull in front of him and said a silent prayer.

    " ...Go to a good ce."

    Then, the gold badge symbolizing the Senator was carefullyid down in front of the remains.

    It was as much respect as Vikir could muster.

    Then.

    "...?"

    Something caught Vikir''s eye as he bent to pay his respects.

    A flutter.

    Something was visible between the ribs of the ashes.

    It was a bundle of parchment that looked very old. It was a letter addressed to someone.

    The seal was red, indicating that it was a top-secret military secret, written by the head of House Baskerville himself.

    "...Is this Hugo''s?"

    The letter had been buried in dry salt, so it was very well preserved.

    Without hesitation, Vikir broke the seal and opened it.

    Soon, the contents of the letter began to be etched into Vikir''s retina.

    ...It was quite an eye-opener.

 Chapter 254: The Grave of Swords (2)

    <h4>Chapter 254: The Grave of Swords (2)</h4>

    Crisp.

    The parchment, dried out by the salt, crumbled.

    A familiar handwriting appeared on it.

    ''Dear Brother C'' �C With the concern of my younger brother Hugo.

    Vikir first checked the letter''s sender.

    As expected, it was Hugo Le Baskervilles. This was not surprising, as the seal on the letter was for top military secrets that could only be handled by the head of the House.

    But there was something odd.

    "... and your brother?"

    Hugo was clearly the eldest son of the Baskervilles and the head of the House. But was there anyone else he could call brother?

    It was unthinkable, even within the family.

    Suddenly, Vikir''s mind shed back to something Hugo had once said.

    ''It''s okay to eat for free.''

    ''Hehehe. That is correct. This father also worked hard to be the eldest son when he became the head of the family.''

    This was part of a conversation I had once when I was beating the crap out of the triplets Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro.

    The first time I heard this, I wondered if being the oldest son could be considered trying.

    But now I get it.

    Hugo was not the eldest son, but he became the head of the family after killing or defeating all of his older brothers in a desperate power struggle.

    In other words, he became the eldest son by ident.

    Was there still anyone left that Hugo could humbly refer to as his brother and call him his brother? That''s the question.

    ''If I think about it, there''s probably not much left.''

    Vikir read the letter in its entirety, searching his pre-regression memory.

    My fifteen-year-old son has just returned from two years of surviving alone in the jungle of the Red and ck Mountains.

    Therefore, I am nning to organize a small dinner, and if you are able, I hope you will be able to attend and honor him.

    It has been a long time since we have seen each other.

    The return of my brother, the most powerful of the Seven Counts, would certainly be a great boost to the family in itself.

    I look forward to hearing from you.

    In short, the letter said that Vikir had survived from the jungle, and toe to the great banquet.

    Vikir looked at the letter and stroked his chin.

    It wasn''t as old as Vikir thought, and he''d never seen Hugo write so formally before.

    Now he realized who this letter was supposed to be addressed to.

    ''Dear Mr. C. And the Seventh Count....''

    In iron-blooded swordman Baskerville, there are seven counts who spend their days in battle.

    The world calls them the Seven Counts.

    The position is a very old one, dating back to the Warring States Period, before the founding of the Rock Empire, when the continent was a mess of colorful jellies on a map.

    Back then, kings were just small provincial lords, and the current empire unites them all into one empire, and the Seven Houses.

    For example, Baskerville, the iron-blooded swordsman, controls the barbarians in the wilderness, and Don Quixote, the spearman, controls the wandering tribes of the sea.

    One House, One Nation.

    A time when a single family was prosperous enough to function as a nation.

    A time of chaos, when everything was gradually merging into one empire and seven families.

    This was actually the heyday of the Seven Counts system.

    The Seven Counts were able to fight throughout the Western Front by mobilizing their family''s military authority without the permission of the head of the family.

    The seven-headed carriage that led the golden age of the Baskervilles, when monsters, barbarians, and other families were all afraid of the teeth of the crazy fighting dog.

    But after the Empire unified the continent, the battlefield on a grand scale disappeared.

    Smaller, localized wars have always existed, but not with the same chaos.

    Chaos on a massive scale, where entire old bloodlines disappeared and dozens of castles copsed in a single day.

    With the end of the era of the great wars, the power of the Seven Counts naturally diminished.

    So sometimes the old Baskervilles in the Senate would reminisce about the past and remember the ''Seven Counts of those days''.

    Anarchy. The seven teeth of the sword that ran through the battlefield without anyone paying attention, that freedom, that romance.

    Their argument was that this was the true Seven Count. The current politicians who are only focused on political warfare do not deserve to be called the Seven Counts.

    ''Certainly, those were the days when the power and might of the seven counts was truly household.''

    Vikir thought back to the past.

    When Vikir had returned to Baskerville after his time with Bk, Hugo had held a great banquet in his honor.

    Those invited at that time were the current Seven Counts, the seven knightmanders who enjoyed the most powerful power after Lord of the House and Young Lord of the House.

    Each and every one of them wanted to take Vikir into their order, which is why they all wanted to attend the banquet, which was not usually attended.

    ''Isabe'' Le Baskervilles, Leader of the Doberman Knights.

    ''German'' Le Baskervilles, leader of the Shepherd Knights.

    ''Metzgerhund'' Le Baskerville, Leader of the Rottweiler Knights.

    ''Cu-Chinn'' Le Baskervilles, Leader of the Wolfhound Knights.

    And even Boston Terrier Le Baskerville, leader of the Pitbull Knights, and Great Dane Le Baskerville, leader of the Mastiff Knights.

    However, due to distance and time, only the Count of Boston Terriers, the leader of the Pit Bull Knight, and the Count of Great Danes, the leader of the Mastiff Knights, actually attended the Great Banquet.

    ''... Later, Cindiwendy told me that the number of Seven Counts who wanted to attend was six.''

    Indeed. In fact, when Vikir returned from the Depht of the Red and ck Mountain, there were only six of the Seven Counts who wanted to attend the Great Banquet, not all of them.

    That''s because one of the seven had turned his back on the world and gone into hiding.

    Although he had long since lost contact, he was the strongest and oldest of the seven.

    Countless letters and messengers were sent by the Baskervilles in an attempt to determine his whereabouts, but none were returned.

    And even from those who went to deliver the letters.

    So the perception was that there were really only six of them.

    "..., the unreachable seventh count, this must be him."

    Vikir could clearly identify the person the letter was referring to.

    A being that Hugo calls ''Brother C''.

    He was the only one of the current seventh counts to have a name among the old seventh counts.

    He was thest of the original seventh counts, the one who lived through the turbulence of the Warring States.

    Even Hugo, who had killed all his brothers and ascended to the position of Lord of the House, could not do anything about it until the end.

    This was CaneCorso Le Baskerville.

    * * *

    Vikir had a clear idea of why the unnamed pit bull that delivered his letters died.

    Whiiiiing-

    A terrifying storm sweeps across the desert.

    The grains of white salt sand that twist along with the wind spread across like a huge castle wall, sweeping away and drying out everything.

    It''s an extremely dry season, and everything that touches it is stripped of moisture and dried to a crumb, soon to be shredded by sharp grains of sand.

    Vikir walked through it, wrapped in his ck cloak.

    ''It''s certainly tough, for sure Graduators will die.''

    It was hard enough to simply survive, but if a Basilisk, an S-ranked Dangerous Monster, came at you, you would truly have no choice but to die.

    Even if you''re a top-notch Combat Pro of the Graduator.

    Caw!

    Arge crow flies across the sky.

    They are targeting the corpse of Vikir, who died after being caught in a storm.

    But even the crows in the sky can''t escape the power of the salt storm.

    Failing to calcte the distance, the huge bird of prey''s neck and wings were snapped by the force of the storm, and soon began to be salted while floating in the air.

    ...Pow!

    Soon, the crow''s dried-up mummyy on the ground.

    Its entire body was broken and crushed, but it had been killed by the rapid dehydration that had urred before.

    "...Hmm. If there were Basilisks, I wouldn''t have gotten in either."

    Vikir muttered as he made his way through the storm.

    He was barely making it through with his body strengthened by the River Styx and the magical regeneration he had absorbed from Beelzebub.

    ...How many hours had passed?

    As I broke through the salt storm, I saw something strange in the center of what had been a white sandy field.

    A tower. A ck tower.

    It was a strange, bizarre structure that could only be described this way.

    Shaped like an awl sticking out of the ground, contained both the ck color of the night sky and the red color of blood.

    The cold metallic material of its walls was unidentifiable, and its height was impossible to guess.

    However, what was certain was that inside this tower in front of Vikir was an extremely high-level spatial distortion magic that was iparable to the one in the Magic Tower.

    "... This actually existed."

    Vikir had certainly seen this tower before.

    Not with the naked eye, but briefly in his pre-regression childhood, when he had just escaped from the Cradle of Swords, in his infantile liberal arts sses.

    It was a figment of imagination, a fictional entity that always appeared on the margins of textbook pages when we studied the family mythology of the Baskervilles.

    But here it was, standing tall and real.

    "...!"

    Upon reaching the tower, Vikir saw the words crudely carved by someone with a sword in front of the supposed entrance.

    ''The Grave of Swords.''

    From cradle to grave.

    It must be someone''s dying words.

 Chapter 255: The Grave of Swords (3)

    <h4>Chapter 255: The Grave of Swords (3)</h4>

    From cradle to grave.

    The life of an Ironblood Swordsman Hound consists of nothing but swords.

    "A true Baskerville is born in the Cradle of Swords."

    Vikir quietly recited what everyone in the world knew.

    ... But the legend passed down in the family has a backstory.

    "A true Baskerville dies in the Grave of Swords."

    It was written on a page of an old history book, faded and stained with faded marks.

    An old myth that everyone thought was just fiction.

    But the moment Vikir found the Grave of Swords, he knew it was true.

    He realized that among the proverbs of the Baskervilles, none of them were lies.

    Literally, from the cradle to the grave. The roads of Baskerville are made entirely of swords.

    Once again, Vikir realized that this was the fate of the iron-blooded swordman hound.

    Plod, plod, plod, plod.

    Vikir walked up the steep stairs of the tower.

    The stairs rose high, each one pointed like an awl.

    A normal person would not have realized they were stairs.

    If the inside of the Magic Tower was mysterious, beautiful, and dreamlike, the inside of this ck Tower was terribly lonely, suffocating, and isting.

    Every step felt like a flesh being sliced off by the surrounding rock formations, stctites, and nameless rusted swords embedded everywhere.

    Countless swords are ring with their tips raised. If you were a prosecutor with a keen sense of energy, you could feel it even more closely to your skin.

    Stinging �C countless stabs, constant sharpened gazes.

    The higher you go, the more you feel your whole body shrinking, little by little.

    A staircase that is worn down, cut out, and chipped away, and can only be climbed by taking one step at a time.

    If Vikir hasn''t reached the Swordmaster level, let alone climbing the stairs, he would have been ovted to death upon entering the tower.

    Finally, Vikir reached the upper levels of the tower.

    It was a scene reminiscent of the Cradle of Swords, with countless swords on disy, but something far more murderous and sharp filled the empty hollow.

    ...That is because of the man sitting on the throne in the center of the space.

    A iron throne of sharp swords.

    And there, a man in thick iron armor, with a long gray beard.

    Beneath his gray eyebrows, what should be the whites of the eyes are filled with empty darkness, and in the center of those eyes, red as the sun burns coldly.

    His nose was sharp as a sword, his lips tightly pressed into a line, and his dead, blue skin was so dry it barely covered his skull.

    His dark heavy armor and massive greatsword made the throne he was building seem even more formidable.

    "...!"

    Vikir recognized the old man''s identity at once.

    CaneCorso. CaneCorso Le Baskerville.

    Even Hugo, who had killed all his brothers to be Lord of the House, couldn''t do anything about him until the very end.

    A former Seven Counts who has been experienced difficult times, and the strongest of the current Seven Counts.

    The average level of inactivity for the Seven Counts lies somewhere between the top grade of Graduator and the path to Master, but this is absolutely not the case in the case of the CaneCorso.

    CaneCorso is Hugo''s older cousin by blood, but their ages are separated by nearly a generation.

    Even before he turned his back on the world and went into hiding, he was already stronger than Hugo, the Swordmaster, and was literally the legend of the sword.

    ...Is that why?

    CaneCorso never showed his face at family events, such as the Great Banquet or the House Council, and he refused all the attendants and knightly orders that a Seven Counts normally would have.

    He never intervened in the affairs of the world, and in hister years he went into hiding, erasing all traces of himself.

    His deeds have been recorded only in literature, and they are so unrealistic that even the direct descendants of the House of Baskerville do not immediately believe it.

    However. there was still no denying that CaneCorso was Baskerville''s strongest swordsman.

    ''If my brother had been greedy for the seat of Lord, I would not be sitting here today.''

    Even the great Hugo had admitted as much.

    ... Meanwhile.

    ''So here I am.''

    Vikir thought quietly to himself.

    Before Vikir''s regression, CaneCorso had not been seen in the world during the Age of Destruction.

    However, there was one incident that suggested he was not dead.

    On one asion, a vast army of demons marched across the Red and ck Mountains.

    Their purpose, of course, was to conquer the human world.

    After crossing the mountain range, they gathered together and realized that several of the legions that were supposed to be there were nowhere to be seen.

    The demons and the human alliance quickly tracked their location.

    And what they found was astonishing.

    Countless, uncountable numbers of demons had perished in their attempts to cross the Yuuni Salt Desert.

    Sure, salt storms and basilisks existed, but it didn''t make sense for several legions to be wiped out.

    So the Demon Soldier Chasers were dispatched to investigate.

    ... But none of the demons that entered the salt desert survived.

    They were either missing or found as torn and tattered corpses.

    And even then, they were only found after being blown far away by storms.

    So the Human Alliance concluded that there was something unknown, powerful, and dangerous in the salt desert.

    After much deliberation amongst the great heroes crawling putting their heads together for a long time, it was decided that a certain Absolute Master, who had turned away from the world and lived in seclusion, was responsible for the incident, and one of them was the CaneCorso.

    ''Hugo must have already had some idea that CaneCorso was here, for one of the Baskervilles hounds died trying to deliver the letter.''

    That was why Vikir hade here today, too.

    Hugo Le Baskervilles, a Swordmaster like himself, practicing the Seven Baskervilles.

    And CaneCorso, who is said to have transcended Hugo long ago.

    Vikir hopes to meet with CaneCorso for hints on the Eighth Baskerville and a way to surpass the Swordmaster.

    ''And on top of that, to get the Wraith Tree.''

    You can read about it in The Return of the Mage Hound. The Wraith Tree grows right here.

    Vikir also knew from his pre-regression knowledge that the Wraith Tree was in the Yuuni Salt Desert.

    He had seen the Eighth Corpse Seere gathering the fruits of the Wraith Tree, which had grown to branches far beyond the salt desert.

    ''Back then, a great number of people were sacrificed to prevent the Wraith Tree from falling into the hands of the demons.''

    And from the manure of those sacrifices, the Wraith Tree grew even taller.

    It covered the entire desert and grew bigger and taller than the whole Red and ck Mountains.

    Its appearance resembled that of a mythical World Tree.

    Countless fruits hung from its branches that stretched out across the mountain.

    The skull-shaped fruits hung greedily, filled with the flesh of corpses and the juices of souls, and as they hung and swayed in the wind, it was like watching a line of hanging corpses.

    Fruit of the Wraith Tree. Wraithflesh.

    When a demon picked the fruit and took a big bite out of it, a thick,her mana spurted out along with blood-like juices, and a high-pitched scream of agony resounded in the air.

    There was no way that the Dead Soldiers, who were all dying, would be able to resist it, as a single bite of Wraithflesh wouldpletely revitalize them.

    The Wraith Tree has given the Demon Legion a tremendous boost of power, while at the same time being a disaster for the human race.

    "...."

    Vikir finished his reminiscence.

    And now, behind the iron throne in front of him, he sees something else.

    A throne of countless swords. A wicked malice growing behind it.

    That''s it. That''s the Wraith Tree.

    It seemed that there was no other tree in the world that could be called a wraith tree.

    A tree of wraiths, nourished by the grudges, cries, and grief of the living.

    Its skull-shaped flesh hardened with the power of the dead.

    The way it stretched upward, trunk by trunk, was grotesque enough to send chills down the spine of even the greatest Vikir.

    It is still small, but in time it will cast a shadow darker and greater than any other shadow this world has ever known.

    Meanwhile.

    CaneCorso raised his head and spoke in a voice as heavy as lead.

    [This is the Tomb of Swords, the final resting ce of those who seek the ultimate goal of the sword].

    Inside the eye socket, where the white and ck eyes are reversed, the old man''s red pupil has a youthful look.

    He seemed to be curious about Vikir''s youthful face.

    [...Child. What are you?]

    CaneCorso is much older than Hugo, and is the eldest adult in the hierarchy, making him technically Vikir''s uncle.

    However, Vikir has no intention of honoring his family''sws or lineage.

    Chang-

    That''s why Vikir can draw his sword so casually.

    "Find out for yourself."

    All Vikir cared about was the road to Baskerville 8th Form and the the Wraith Trees blooming behind the Iron Throne.

 Chapter 256: The Grave of Swords (4)

    <h4>Chapter 256: The Grave of Swords (4)</h4>

    "Find out for yourself."

    Vikir pulled his full strength of his body.

    His magic sword, Beelzebub, extended out, and a rapidly rotating aura zed across its surface.

    A solid materialized aura in thin air, the symbol of the Swordmaster.

    [...!]

    CaneCorso''s eyes widened slightly.

    In the darkness of the void, a single, dying me burned.

    The firewood must be a curiosity.

    Then, from his iron throne, CaneCorso stood up.

    As he stood, the already stifling atmosphere in the grave of swords seemed to grow even more suffocating.

    CaneCorso''s lips parted.

    [Kid, you don''t have a very good personality. Who is your father....]

    "Question and Answer Dance."

    Vikir drew upon the Swordmaster''s aura and the wraiths of the monsters.

    ...Ssssssshhh!

    Baskerville 4th, Vikir''s most confident move in his two lives, was unleashed.

    Though Vikir is now capable of producing up to 7th form, there is nothing quite like the 4th form for mindless swordy.

    It requires very little mana and has a physical proficiency of over 100%, so it can be said to be a cost-effective regr strike.

    [...Hoah. This level of proficiency, and you still look so young].

    CaneCorso avoided all of Vikir''s attacks by simply tilting his head back slightly.

    [Clearly a Baskerville, and whose descendant are you? Boston Terrier? Great Dane? No, you look very different. Is that Hugo, the boy?]

    And of course, CaneCorso also performed the Baskerville 4th form.

    ng!

    Space is shattered.

    Vikir''s Crimson aura and CaneCorso''s ck aura tangled and shed ferociously.

    ng! ang! Drrrrrrzzz!

    The atmosphere was shattering into pieces.

    Shattered fragments of air rushed out in all directions, creating a sword wind.

    Through clenched teeth, Vikir continued to swing Beelzebub.

    CaneCorso''s eyes widened once more as he watched Beelzebub emit a crimson glow from Vikir''s wrist.

    [Is this the magic sword Baalzebub that was actually used... In the past, even the brilliant twins Cain and Abel spent three years searching for it and never managed to get their hands on it. Boy, how do you possess it?]

    But Vikir did not answer.

    ...Boom!

    That''s because before CaneCorso''s sword could reach his throat, the ck mask Vikir had tied around his neck was pulled off.

    / Mask

    -Kinship (Fratricide) +0

    -Insight (Human-Beast) -On

    Vikir transformed into a ck dog in an instant, using his smaller body to dodge CaneCorso''s sword.

    At the same time, Vikir leapt between CaneCorso''s legs, removing his mask and returning to his human form to swing his sword.

    [... what?]

    CaneCorso could only stare in disbelief as Vikir''s method defiedmon sense.

    Dogfight. Complete rawbat. No human dignity expected or given to the opponent. It''s like fighting with a monster.

    [Hehehe, it''s been a while since I''ve had a fight like this].

    However, surprisingly, CaneCorso didn''t seem to mind this kind of battle.

    ...Thud!

    The sword aura flew towards his groin, but CaneCorso blocked it with the hilt of his greatsword, knocking Vikir away from him.

    "I''d be grateful for the distance."

    Even as he was being thrown, Vikir reached out and retrieved the ck cloak that had been hanging on the wall.

    There, the ck Bow Anubis bared its teeth.

    Psssttt!

    The terrifying arrow rushed toward CaneCorso in five trajectories.

    [...Is it archery this time? I''ve never seen a Swordmaster so good at Archery before].

    CaneCorso treated Bk''s archery as just a trivial skill.

    Tsk tsk tsk tsk tsk!

    His ck aura formed a round sphere, crushing all the arrows flying from all directions.

    At the same time.

    Swash!

    CaneCorso charged forward with a tremendous leap and swung his greatsword.

    However, he was forced to pause in midair.

    [...?]

    Invisible threads wrapped around CaneCorso''s body in countless directions.

    Hack, hack, hack.

    Vikir could see the cub perched on his shoulder, a look of triumph on it''s face.

    "Well done."

    Vikir patted the cub once, then leapt off to reach CaneCorso.

    An opening, this opening would be his only chance to take down the great man of the previous generation.

    ''If I can defeat him, I may have the answer to reaching the next level.''

    And a chance to get my hands on the Wraith Tree, too.

    st!

    The full power of Baskerville 7th was revealed.

    CaneCorso''s eyes widened as he saw the seven teeth clearly revealed before him.

    [Baskerville''s Seventh Form!! And the ''Lurking Ambush'' swordsmanship!! How can I be so ignorant...!?]

    Surprisingly, CaneCorso recognized Vikir''s swordsmanship.

    This was something Vikir had never expected.

    How could this old man know the secret of the Baskervilles, a secret that not even Hugo knew because the original swordsmanship manuals had been destroyed?

    But the question was never answered.

    The gap created by the Picaresque Mask, Bk''s archery, and baby Madame''s wire trapbination was not to be missed by Vikir.

    Creak, creak, creak, creak, creak, creak, creak!

    The seven teeth that could defeat even the demon king, ravaged the CaneCorso''s entire body.

    ''Gotcha.''

    For a moment, Vikir felt a sense of futility at the victory he had achieved so easily.

    ...But only for a moment.

    "...!"

    Vikir flinched for a moment due to the strange sensation of touching the tip of his teeth.

    Then, as the fragments of aura, wind, and water vapor cleared, Vikir could see what was in front of him.

    Surprisingly, CaneCorso was unharmed.

    All seven of Vikir''s strikes had been blocked by the heavy, thick armor of unknown material that CaneCorso wore.

    At the same time.

    ...Boom!

    CaneCorso''s huge hand grabbed Vikir''s throat and tightened.

    ck gauntlets wrapped around his fingers were made of an unknown material just like the Grave of Swords.

    Vikir tried to cut off CaneCorso''s arm, but was repeatedly blocked by the thick, hard armor.

    Who would have thought there was something in the world that the Swordmaster''s aura couldn''t cut!

    CaneCorso looked down at Vikir in wonder.

    [Rising to the realm of Supreme at such a young age, I''m surprised. There''s a genius in the family].

    "...."

    Vikir frowned.

    Whatever the armor CaneCorso wears is made of, it is indestructible, no matter how hard he tries.

    It wraps around his entire body from the neck down, and there''s nothing Vikir can do about it.

    And then. CaneCorso said.

    [But even in the realm of Supreme, there are sses].

    "...!"

    Vikir''s eyes widened.

    Originally, when someone reach this level, even a passing word from a higher being can give you a great deal of inspiration.

    In CaneCorso''s mutterings, Vikir got the hint he''d been waiting for. Her recklessness had paid off.

    ...If there''s one problem, it''s that I might die right now?

    With that, CaneCorso mmed Vikir to the ground.

    Swahh, jijijijig-

    Vikir twisted his body in midair andnded on his hands and feet.

    Although the skin on his palms waspletely ripped off while he was being pushed back, at least he was able to keep his neck and spine from snapping.

    CaneCorso spoke nonchntly.

    [Just as the Expert and Graduator are divided into upper, middle, and lower boundaries for convenience, so are the Swordmasters].

    "...!"

    [You''re just a chick who''s just stepped into the realm of the Supreme].

    CaneCorso smiled faintly.

    [I can see what you''re thinking, yes. I thought the same thing as you when I first entered this tower. Of course, I was much older than you then].

    Afterward, he added softly.

    [Maybe... just maybe, it''s possible for you, at your age, to see thest page of ''that book of swordsmanship''....]

    "?"

    Vikir frowned at the word he didn''t recognize.

    Then CaneCorsoughed. Bright enough to make me feel sick.

    [Good, then I''ll show you. It''s the least I can do for the man who will be the next Tower Lord].

    At the same time, he muttered something unintelligible.

    ...Rumbling! blug blug blug-.

    A ck aura began to boil from his entire body.

    "...!"

    For a moment, Vikir had to fall from the chilling aura that enveloped his entire body.

    Drrrrrrr...

    The entire Grave of Swords was shaking.

    At the same time, the instincts of a veteran screamed frantically at him to get the hell out of here!

    Grrrrrk...

    In an instant, CaneCorso''s massive greatsword rose into the air, and then.

    ...BOOM!

    It fell straight toward the ground.

    A stream of ck lightning.

    The single, simple movement soon split into several trajectories, rushing toward Vikir.

    And Vikir watched.

    " ...9th-form!?"

    ''Lurking Ambush'', the Ultimate of the Baskervilles that he thought he was the only one mastering.

    It was a nine-toothed de, tearing the world apart.

 Chapter 257: The Grave of Swords (5)

    <h4>Chapter 257: The Grave of Swords (5)</h4>

    The ''Lurking Ambush'', the ultimate in Baskerville''s swordsmanship.

    It depicts nine teeth. What does this mean?

    It''s Baskerville''s old style.

    If there is such a division in the Swordmaster, just as there is a division in the Expert and Graduator... then this is a swordsmanship that can only be cast by beings of the Swordmaster rank.

    Nine teeth, each driving, grasping, tearing, cutting, slicing, dismembering, crushing, mincing, and crushing, devouring the entire world.

    It was greater and more destructive than any swordsmanship in the world.

    It seemed impossible for the ''predator''s murderous intent'' to cut beneath the skin more vividly than this.

    Even Vikir, a veteran of the Age of Destruction, had never experienced it before.

    ''There is a being in this world who can wield a sword like this, even among humans!''

    Vikir marveled as a swordsman, a seeker walking the same path.

    It was something that exploded purely, regardless of the distinction between blood and blood.

    But I can''t just sit back and admire.

    Even now, CaneCorso''s 9th Baskerville was rushing toward him, slicing through seconds and minutes.

    In the midst of this impending storm of swords, Vikir unleashed the most power he could muster.

    Baskerville 7th Form.

    After abandoning emotions and ascending to the 6th form, he reached the highest level with his regained emotions after going through many struggles.

    Vikir flicked the tip of his sword to form 7 teeth, which he used against the 9 teeth in front of him.

    The Hound of the Iron Blood Sword Family faced the monster with all its might.

    The result.

    ...Swashh, jjjeeezzzzzzzz!

    Vikir was defeated.

    Not surprising, since it was the 7th vs. the 9th.

    Vikir felt his entire body being torn apart.

    The pain felt as if a piece of meat had been dropped into the mouth of a huge toothy monster.

    It was a level of damage that even the regenerative powers of a bog smander could not have withstood.

    Then.

    "...!"

    Vikir grabbed at something on the brink of death.

    It was a survival instinct, a sense of urgency he hadn''t felt since entering the Realm of the Supreme.

    It is no wonder that a Swordmaster never has the opportunity to feel this way, to be helpless in the face of great horror and brutality.

    And paradoxically, when he realized he was nothing, a mere insignificant fly.

    ...sh!

    A change urred in Vikir''s swordsmanship.

    The 8th Form of Baskerville, the desperate need to survive, the desire for life, and the need for extremebat experience.

    Only when one has lost and regained his emotions bes attached to life, the door to the 8th Form opens.

    Vikir swung his sword and drew the 8th tooth.

    It was the 8th tooth, still small, but clear and distinct.

    At the same time, the 9th and 8th teeth shed and canceled each other out.

    And then.

    ...poof!

    CaneCorso''s long fangs dug diagonally into Vikir''s body.

    Quack!

    Vikir was thrown helplessly to the ground and buried on the edge of the Grave of Swords.

    [....]

    CaneCorso. Swordmaster Advanced. No, Supetive. An absolute in the 9th form of Baskerville.

    He stood still, staring into the rising dirt.

    And then, in the darkness of CaneCorso''s eye sockets, there was a sh of color again.

    Thump, thump, thump.

    Vikir was walking out from below, where crumbling aura, sparks, and sword fragments were falling like snow.

    Zzzzzzzzzz.

    The deep, almost amputating sword wound that ran diagonally across Vikir''s body was healing at an astonishing rate.

    A regenerative power that surpassed humans long ago.

    It was a regenerative power that could not be matched by even the most powerful of monsters whose specialty was regeneration.

    [...Basilisk].

    CaneCorso recognized Vikir''s ability with a nce.

    Vikir stopped in his tracks.

    / Awl

    -1 Slot: Venomous -Madame Eight-Legged (S)

    -2 Slot: Unkible -Basilisk (S)

    -3 Slot: Silence Hill -Mushuhushu (A+)

    "I was lucky to find the body of a basilisk before I entered the Grave of Swords.

    Vikir had absorbed the mummified remains of a basilisk, which had been pickled in salt, and had learned to use its regenerative powers as his own.

    He was indeed lucky. The regenerative powers of a bog smander would not have been enough to survive CaneCorso''s strike.

    Anyway.

    Thanks to the power of the magic sword Beelzebub, Vikir escaped death.

    And in return, he was able to reach the higher realms.

    It is at the threshold of death that one realizes the depths of the 8th Forms.

    Those who be Swordmasters rarely have to fight for their lives, and this is where the stagnation urs.

    [Only those who, upon entering the realm of the Supreme, continue to fight with the same heart as when they first took up the sword will gain something].

    CaneCorso''s words were the most basic, the closest to the truth.

    Meanwhile, Vikir lifted his head and looked at CaneCorso.

    "The Lurking Ambush Swordsmanship. Was it you who wrote that sword book?"

    [No. That would be impossible. I, too, have not yet mastered the entirety of the ten forms in that book].

    "Then...."

    As Vikir trailed off, the CaneCorso nodded obediently.

    [I am, too, a descendant who read the Book of Swordsmanship. However, I was afraid that someone other than me would learn this, so I tore a few pages and scattered them.]

    "Wouldn''t it have been better to just burn it and get rid of it?"

    [I could not bring myself to destroy the Swordsmanship Book itself; how dare I destroy such a great treasure with my own hands].

    Vikir did not bother to tell Kainkorso that he had burned the sword book.

    On the other hand, CaneCorso was intrigued that a descendant had managed to get his hands on aplete copy of the Lurking Ambush.

    [...Somehow those who are destined to meet must meet].

    CaneCorso sheathed his greatsword. It meant that he would not attack Vikir anymore.

    At the same time, the heavy weight that had been weighing down on them vanished.

    Vikir had no intention of fighting anymore.

    He had juste back from the brink of death and had just reached the 8th Form.

    His opponent, on the other hand, had already reached the 9th Form long ago. If he tried to fight him, he would be no match.

    Then CaneCorso said.

    [My young rival and rtive, my cute nephew. Come here and take what you want.]

    His attitude was different than before.

    Vikir looked puzzled and asked.

    "May I take the Wraith Tree behind that iron throne?"

    [Do as you please, it''s just a weed to me, such things are only for mages].

    "Aren''t you here to protect it?"

    [Of course not. I''m here for apletely different reason. These grass roots are, well, ancestral creatures that took root in this tower before me, so I just respect them and have no particr attachment to them.]

    Vikir shook his head.

    Then, two roots from the Wraith Tree behind the Iron Throne were ced in Vikir''s hands.

    It was an eerie sapling that was dry and hard, yet somehow cold and damp.

    "...."

    Vikir turned his head.

    CaneCorso had been sitting in the iron throne again for some time.

    But its curious eyes were still fixed on Vikir.

    Vikir stared at CaneCorso.

    6th Form. A level that can be reached only by letting go of emotions.

    7th Form. A level that can be reached only by regaining emotions.

    8th Form, a level that can only be ascended by attachment to life and harshbat experience.

    In fact, the Eighth Form could be said to be a difficult stage to experience without the guidance of a senior in the upper level of the Supreme Realm.

    Or it takes a lot of hard work.

    ... So where does that make the old man level?

    As Vikir was thinking to himself, CaneCorso said.

    [Wondering about the 9th form?]

    It was the answer.

    "...."

    Vikir''s silent affirmation made CaneCorso smile faintly.

    [You will probably never reach this level in your lifetime].

    Vikir raised an eyebrow at the words as if they were a taunt.

    But CaneCorso continued in a serious tone.

    [Because the realm of the Nine Forms is beyond the threshold of death].

    That means that one can only step into the realm of the 9th Form by actually being dead.

    ... But what does that mean for the CaneCorso in front of him?

    Hasn''t he definitely reached the level of the 9th Form?

    Seeing Vikir''s puzzled expression, CaneCorso released his greatsword and raised his both hands.

    Tzutzutzutz...

    With that, a ck aura boiled up.

    ...Teng! Teng!

    The heavy iron gloves wrapped around CaneCorso''s hands fell to the ground.

    "...!"

    Vikir''s eyes widened.

    CaneCorso''s hands were dried up to nothing but bone and skin.

    Like the hand of a corpse.

    [So I crossed the threshold of death and entered into it.]

    As a result, CaneCorso died. Alone and lonely in a remote ce where no one else in the world knew him.

    But he never regretted it, even to hisst breath.

    Because in exchange for that lonely death, he came closer to the core of the Supreme, a ce no human had reached in centuries.

    A noble knight who had risen to the rank of Superhuman died and was transformed.

    Death Knight.

    That was the identity of CaneCorso.

 Chapter 258: The Grave of Swords (6)

    <h4>Chapter 258: The Grave of Swords (6)</h4>

    Danger Rating : A+ ~ ?

    Size : ?

    Found in : ?

    -AKA ''Death Knight''.

    The result of a noble knight''s strength and spirit being devoured by the Abyss.

    From beyond the gates of death, they draw infinite amounts ofher mana until their bodies are tattered and their souls worn out.

    However, there is still nothing known about what happens when a being who fails to repay the debt passes through another gate behind the Death Gate.

    Death Knight.

    A noble knight who rose to the rank of superhuman died and was transformed.

    The power they possess varies so greatly from individual to individual that it is meaningless to calcte the risk rating.

    This is due to the varying degrees of strength and mental power of the knight who bes a Death Knight, as well as the circumstances and process by which they are transformed into Death Knights.

    Once it appears, it is certain that it will take on a Danger Rank A+ or higher, but no Death Knight has appeared in thest hundred years.

    ...But Vikir had an intuition at this moment.

    He had a hunch that CaneCorso in front of him was definitely more than just an S-ranked Dangerous Monster like Madame Eight-Legged or Basilisk.

    [I had crossed the threshold of death and entered it].

    CaneCorso spoke of his own death with boldness.

    He walked alone in a remote ce where no one else in the world recognized him.

    But he never regretted it, even to thest moment of his life.

    For in exchange for his lonely death, he had gained ess to the very core of the Supreme, a height no human being had reached in centuries.

    "...It is a level that can only be reached by experiencing death."

    Vikir swallowed hard when he heard the requirements of the 9th form.

    The 6th Form. A state that can only be reached by transcending all emotions.

    The 7th Form. A state that can only be reached by reiming emotions that have been abandoned.

    The 8th Form. A state that can only be reached by wielding a sword as if reborn, and fighting over and over again in a series of desperate battles.

    And the 9th was the inessible zone at the core of the supreme realms that only those who had experienced death could ascend to.

    After excluding and rejecting emotions to the extent that he had no one to love in his entire life, Vikir ascended to the 6th, and his reunion with Camus led him to the 7th.

    And finally, Vikir''s devotion to CaneCorso led him to 8th form.

    But somehow, Vikir still didn''t understand the 9th form.

    ''You mean I have to be reborn and die again to rise above the Swordmaster? What a ridiculous way to train.''

    Even as a Vikir who had reached the 8th form, it was hard to believe.

    But now there was a human who had reached the 9th form. And then, surprisingly, he threw away his life.

    CaneCorso, now a Death Knight, spoke with the darkness deep in his eyes.

    [This is why I said it was impossible for you to ascend to the 9th Form in your lifetime. This realm defies all normal human understanding, empathy, understanding, faith,mon sense, probability and causality. A being who has not experienced death can never set foot here].

    "...."

    [Ah, you certainly seem to have a lot of regrets about life, though I suppose you''re not old enough to have even contemted death yet].

    CaneCorso spoke while sitting on the iron throne.

    [You are not ready.]

    He drew a line with a single word.

    It was the line that separated this side from that side, this world and the afterlife, differ.

    As CaneCorso shook his head in disappointment, Vikir asked.

    "What do you mean by ready?"

    [To ascend to the full 8th form and be a Tower Lord].

    Vikir couldn''t understand what he was saying.

    However, he had one more question.

    "...And what about the 10th form? Have you realized it is impossible to reach the 10th form? Does it even exist?"

    [Of course, it actually exists. However, even I, the Tower Lord, have not yet realized it].

    CaneCorso spoke in a heavy voice.

    [Did I say that you have to experience death to get to the 9th Form?]

    "That''s right."

    [To reach the 10th form, one must die and wake up].

    Hearing CaneCorso''s words, Vikir opened his mouth halfway in disbelief.

    There was a realm that could be reached by death, and then there was a realm that could be reached by death and rebirth.

    It was bad enough that he had to die to reach the 9th form, but to reach the 10th form, he had to die and be reborn?

    "It doesn''t say you have to die, it says you have to be dead, and then you have to wake up. What kind of nonsensical logic is that...."

    Vikir frowned, unable to understand.

    Then CaneCorso smiled faintly.

    [I don''t understand the meaning of that either, I''m still stuck at 9th. How am I supposed to wake up when I''m already dead, and I may never reach 10th].

    For him, not reaching the 10th form is the same as not reaching rest.

    CaneCorso had died and be a Death Knight, but he didn''t know how to escape death and be human again.

    Nor did he intend to.

    So he would have to spend the rest of his life here, the rest of his incredibly long life, alone?

    At an age when he should be tombstones on his own grave, he would be tombstones on other people''s graves?

    Vikir suddenly questioned the purpose of this great tower.

    And CaneCorso, as if looking into Vikir''s mind, began to speak.

    [This ''Grave of Swords'' is the resting ce of a great Baskerville].

    His words were astonishing.

    The Cradle of Swords was the ce where the Baskervillian ancestor who created the Baskervillian style of swordsmanship that Vikir had learned was born.

    And the ce where he died became the Grave of Swords.

    [His birth was the birth of the sword, and his death was the death of the sword].

    Vikir nodded silently.

    Perhaps the ''Lurking Ambush'' swordsmanship he mastered was also his creation.

    CaneCorso said.

    [This is ''his'' grave and also the final destination for those who pursue the ultimate intention of the sword.]

    He added at the end.

    [A true Baskerville wille here at the end of its life.]

    All Baskervilles are born in the Cradle of Swords.

    But only the greatest of Baskervilles, the truly great Baskervilles, can close their eyes in the Grave of Swords.

    [The end of all great Baskervilles is the same: theye from "his" cradle to "his" grave, and so will you].

    And since children from the Cradle of Swords are destined to end up in the Grave of Swords, this is where Vikir will end up as well.

    But Vikir snorted.

    "I have much to do outside. I''m noting back to this deste, idle ce."

    [Lots to do? Hehehe �C life is not so great as you think, it''s just an expression between a problem and an answer].

    Humans go through a lot of milestones in their lives. Births,ing-of-age celebrations, coronations, weddings, funerals, etc.... How many things are there to do?

    It''s one long equation(����ʽ) that connects the question of birth and the answer of death.

    [At this age, you''ll soon forget about all that bullshit].

    CaneCorso merely stroked his beard.

    And then.

    Thung-

    The tower shook once.

    The Grave of Swords began to shake.

    "...What?"

    Vikir was suddenly caught off guard by a strong wind that blinded him.

    Soo-Shusssssss...

    Beyond the swirling storm, the figure of CaneCorso was gradually fading away.

    ''I will see you again someday.''

    Those were CaneCorso''sst words.

    At the same time, Vikir noticed white grains of sand mixing with the storm.

    The sands of the salt desert were somehow filling the tower.

    Tsutsutsutsutsutsuts...

    And then the wind calmed down.

    "...!"

    Vikir found himself standing in a deste desert.

    The Grave of Swords. The great tower had vanished without a trace.

    It was like a long dream.

    ...But what happened to Vikir was no dream.

    For suddenly, two solid saplings were in his hands.

    Wraith Tree. A strange nt that had taken root behind the Iron Throne.

    It was a ck mage''s exclusive artifact that Pomerian had longed to possess.

    "...Not a dream."

    The aura that boiled from his body was clearly proving that Vikir had risen to the higher ranks.

    Swordmaster of the Baskerville 8th Form. Now he could actually fight Hugo and not lose.

    "...."

    Vikir looked up.

    He wanted to thank Canecorso, but the man he was supposed to be thanking had already disappeared beyond the salt storm, along with the Grave of Swords.

    There are no mirages in the sunny desert, let alone illusions.

    Vikir bowed his head stiffly toward the Iron Throne that he had so vividly faced just moments before.

    Then he turned away, holding the roots of two wraith trees firmly in his hands.

    Towards the Baskerville and Colosseo Academy.

 Chapter 259: The Inverted Pentagram (1)

    <h4>Chapter 259: The Inverted Pentagram (1)</h4>

    Iron Blood Swordsman / Difficulty [������]

    -This student has excelled in solving all the problems presented by the House.

    House Lord Hugo Le Baskerville ?

    Baskerville''s certificate of questpletion surprised everyone at the Four Academies.

    Vice Director Basilios of Varangian, Headmaster Hippolyte of Themiscyra, Master Blue Whale of Magic Tower, and even Professor Banshee of Colosseo were speechless.

    "How long has it been since the Iron-Blooded Swordsman gave a passing certificate?"

    "Hmmmm... if this is real."

    "Since the Baskerville family is so closed-minded, I have my doubts. Hehehe-"

    Basilios, Hippolyte, and Blue Whale looked at the letter again and again in disbelief.

    Then.

    ...Tap!

    There was a hand that snatched it away with a cold look.

    It was Professor Banshee.

    "Are you doubting my student?"

    The other representatives smirked at the openly displeased Professor Banshee.

    Meanwhile, Professor Banshee looked back at Vikir in front of him and spoke in a sarcastic tone.

    "You probably know that you are thest to return out of the 10 rankers, right?"

    "Yes."

    Vikir nodded obediently.

    Strange, a considerable amount of time had passed since Vikir had emerged from the Grave of Swords.

    There was something in there that seemed to distort the flow of time.

    ''I couldn''t even tell if CaneCorso was on the top floor of the tower. Maybe there''s something else up there.''

    Professor Banshee continued to be sarcastic while Vikir''s mind wandered.

    "Still, you''re good at answering questions."

    "Thank you."

    "Do I appear to be giving you apliment?"

    "Sorry."

    When Vikir gave the answer he needed, Professor Banshee''s brow furrowed.

    "Vikir-kun, yourte return has pushed back the artifact ceremony by ten days. In the meantime, Baskerville hasn''t heard from you, and we''ve been meaning to report you missing. Did you know?"

    "The mission was so urgent that I didn''t have time to contact them along the way."

    "And what was the mission?"

    Professor Banshee asked, and Vikir answered obediently.

    "To retrieve a Wraith Tree."

    At that, the expressions of all four Academy representatives changed drastically.

    "Wha, a Wraith Tree?"

    "Nonsense, such a thing doesn''t exist."

    "Hehehehehe �C that''s a funny joke."

    Basilios, Hippolyte, and Blue Whale dismissed Vikir''s answer as nothing more than a joke.

    But only Professor Banshee remained silent, his expression hardened.

    He knew Vikir''s character.

    Then, in a stern tone, Professor Banshee asked.

    "When you speak of the Wraith Tree, do you mean the mythical tree... of Tzersi, the greatest Morg, and Ornati, the greatest Baskerville?"

    "Yes."

    "And the ...Baskervilles havemissioned you to retrieve it?"

    "Yes."

    "...So. You mean you seeded in retrieving it?"

    "I can''t answer that."

    Vikir did not answer. He merely nced back at the certificate, which bore the seal of Baskerville.

    And as Vikir''s gaze shifted and returned, so did the gaze of the schoolmasters.

    And then. Professor Banshee shook his head.

    "I don''t know what it is. We''ll talk about thister. First of all, congrattions onpleting the quest."

    The brief meeting with the principals ended.

    And then.

    All ten students, including Vikir, thest to return, have gathered.

    They are now on their way to the warehouse where many of the artifacts are stored, beyond a gate that can only be opened by collecting all four keys.

    The Tower Master, Blue Whale, smirked.

    "You have one day to get out of the warehouse, or the gate will close and never open again. We won''t be able to open the door until the nextpetition, so be sure to follow the time limit strictly."

    Then, in a yful tone, he added.

    "Oh, and by the way, don''t worry about the skeletons you see as soon as you step through the gate. They are the remains of those who failed to pick up an artifact in time to leave the warehouse."

    It was somehow a creepy joke.

    * * *

    All ten students walked through the gate in front of the students from all four schools.

    And exactly 23 hourster, nine students emerged from the warehouse.

    All of them having been chosen by the artifact.

    This was quite unusual, given that there are always one or two students in every tournament who, despite being ranked in the top ten,e up empty-handed, having not been chosen by any artifact.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca also gathered at the gate, waiting for their friend.

    "Wow! He''s out! It''s here!"

    "Sinir! Over here!"

    "Oooh! Looks like you picked an artifact! Congrattions Sinir!"

    "See, I told you you could do it!"

    A tired but cheerful Sinir stepped out of the gate and waved to everyone.

    Afterward, each student stepped out of the gate to report which artifact they had been chosen for, and which artifact they had chosen.

    First up was Dolores.

    Dolores was the first to step out, holding a small mirror in her arms that she could hug.

    "My artifact is the Mirror of Truth. It is said to show the bare face behind the mask of the person it reflects, but only for those within its reach."

    As she spoke, she lifted the mirror and nced at Lovegood''s face as he stood beside her.

    In the mirror, she saw Lovegood''s makeup-free face.

    "Gah! What are you doing, you! I''ve just finished putting on my makeup!"

    "Why, you look beautiful!"

    Lovegood hastily turns away from the mirror. Dolores watched andughed.

    She was next.

    The student council president of Themiscyra and the newly formed leader of the Vikir fan club, she eximed in an ambitious voice.

    "The artifact I got is called the ''Shield of Love'' �C it''s a hairpin with a heart-shaped brooch on it, and it''s said that when you wear it, it''ll stop any kind of powerful brainwashing or mind control magic for once �C but it only works if you have someone you truly love by your side!"

    At first nce, the artifact didn''t sound too good.

    Usually, the artifacts that other students got were semi-permanent, while this one had a limited use.

    But for some reason, Lovegood seemed quite satisfied.

    "What are you going to use it for?"

    "Shit, never mind!"

    Dolores and Lovegood, who had be quite close by now, are having a bickering conversation.

    Then.

    "Hahahahaha!"

    With a delightfulugh, Bakiraga pulled out an artifact.

    It was a giant glove made of an unidentified metal.

    "It''s a gauntlet that increases your strength. It''s called the ''Magic King''s Hand,'' and it was worn by a legendary warrior named the Magic King who lived in another dimension a long time ago."

    "Simr to me. I got a staff that increases mana. It is said that a very small amount of ''pink dragon scales'' were contained. Is there a dragon like that in the first ce...?"

    Hohenheim nodded in agreement with Bakiraga''s words.

    Next up were the three brothers, Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro.

    "We got the triplet swords that are said to be stronger when united. It''s called the Three Swords."

    "Yeah."

    "Yeah."

    They held out three swords that looked identical but were slightly different.

    Strangely, they say, the power of all three is increased when they are wielded together.

    The trio, called the Trident of Baskerville, had been chosen first by the artifacts, and they seemed quite proud of that.

    Then.

    "...I''m the only one who knows what this is."

    A sullen voice said.

    Grenouille. The guy walked out looking somewhat downcast.

    In his hand was a small brooch in the shape of a lip.

    "This artifact is called the ''Righteous Lips.'' It''s said to tell you the truth, no matter what question you ask, but it only answers with ''yes'' and ''no,'' and you can only use it once in your entire life...."

    Then. A hand tapped Grenouille on the shoulder.

    "Why, I think it''s a very good artifact."

    It was Sinir.

    "Sometimes I have a lot of doubts about whether I am living well. I think it would be a good idea to ask at that time."

    "...Tsk, why do you have such doubts? I''m always living well, you''re supposed to be proud of yourself!"

    But despite Sinir grumbling, Grenouille felt much better inside.

    Finally, Sinir reported her artifact.

    "The artifact that chose me is the Money Hat, which is a hat that make your magic power bes stronger the more you spend money on it."

    It was a strange-looking ck hat, like something only witches would wear.

    With a worn brim and a missing tooth it looked sinister and far from wealthy.

    Everyone around her felt sorry for her.

    Sinir is probably the most poor student in the Colosseo.

    It was already widely rumored that while most students were supported by their parents for living expenses and tuition, she was paying for everything from tuition to living expenses with a part-time job.

    To be chosen for such an expensive artifact in such a situation was nothing short of the grain of sand.

    But Sinir remained cheerful.

    "Hehe- money is power in this world. I''ll have to make a lot of money to afford this hat."

    Sinir just smiles, as usual.

    * * *

    Time passes as other studentse out one by one to register their artifacts.

    And then. The hands of the clock havee full circle.

    Time has passed since Sinir, the ninth student toe forward and report the artifact.

    And now the clock is ticking down to the end. There was less than a minute left before the gates closed.

    But there was still one student who hadn''te out.

    Vikir.

    The students of all the academies have gathered here, waiting for this one unreturned student.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Sinir, Bianca, and all the other students mutter anxiously.

    "Vikir... what are you doing, why aren''t youing out!"

    "It''s bad, time is running out."

    "Now it''s seconds! oh my god!"

    "Don''t worry, he''lle out at thest minute."

    "He loves to y the main character, and he was thest one to show up for the second test."

    Everyone was looking at the gate, unable to hide their anxiety and nervousness.

    ... But.

    No one came out of the gate after all.

    Spot!

    The gate''s duration was up.

    It closed in vain.

    "...?"

    Everyone who was watching this suddenly swallowed the wind.

    Stunned faces. Expressions of disbelief.

    It was Professor Banshee who screamed first.

    "Open, open! Open the gate! One of my students hasn''t gotten out yet!"

    But it was impossible.

    The rule of the four academies is that the gates are only opened once a year, when everyone is present, and only for 24 hours.

    It was a system that had been in ce for a very long time, and it wasn''t something that the deans could open at will.

    In the first ce, the warehouse and the portal itself are independent parts, and it is impossible for mages in this world to control it other than maintaining and repairing it.

    Knowing this, the other Deans could only shake their heads with solemn, gloomy expressions.

    Though extremely rare, it is notpletely unknown.

    There are those who are so greedy for so many artifacts that they cannot choose between it and let the time limit pass.

    When the gates are opened the following year, they are found to be nothing but skeletons at the entrance.

    Such is the price of greed.

    "Oh, no...."

    Tudor approached the gate.

    Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca stood beside him, also looking bewildered.

    "W-what happened now?"

    "Vikir couldn''t get out? Really?"

    "Is the gate closed? Can''t we get this thing open again?"

    When entering the gate, the only things you can take with you are inanimate objects like clothes and shoes.

    Everything else, except your own body, is burned when you go through the gate.

    So there''s no point in bringing food or water along.

    This means that those trapped in the warehouse can only starve to death from loneliness and hunger.

    "No, Vikir!"

    Lovegood and the rest of the fan club cry out.

    But no matter how desperate they are, the gate is already closed.

    "...."

    Dolores stares at the gate in disbelief.

    ''You''re lying, right? In fact, you were there before me, right?''

    But looking around, there was no sign of it.

    Vikir is trapped in there. He can''t get out now.

    Dolores could only stand there in disbelief.

    It seems like time around her has stopped.

    A feeling as if her heart had dropped all the way to the bottom of her ribs and stopped there.

    Her eyes were blurry and her legs were trying to give out.

    Dolores opens her mouth to speak, dumbfounded by this confusing sensation she doesn''t recognize.

    ...Puck!

    An unfamiliar sound came from somewhere.

    It sounded like a sword tearing through very thick leather.

    "...What!?"

    The expression of the Tower Master, White Beard Blue Whale, changed drastically.

    Dzzzzzzzzzz.

    The barrier was being torn apart.

    And a face is slowly revealed through the cracks.

    "Sorry, sir. I''m a littlete."

    It was Vikir, still looking nonchnt.

 Chapter 260: The Inverted Pentagram (2)

    <h4>Chapter 260: The Inverted Pentagram (2)</h4>

    ...Puck, Dzzzzzzzzzz-!

    The barrier was tearing apart.

    A face slowly appeared through the cracks.

    "Sorry, sir. I''m a littlete."

    It was Vikir, still looking nonchnt.

    ....

    But the crowd is silent.

    Everyone just stands there, mouths agape.

    "Ah, the artifact I brought. Should I report it here?"

    Vikir holds up the artifact with a nonchnt expression.

    It was an ominous artifact, a small ne in the shape of an inverted pentagram, with a closed eyeball attached to its center.

    "The name and power of this artifact is...."

    Vikir was just about to exin something.

    "Woah!"

    A person ran into Vikir''s arms.

    Her face covered in tears and snot. It was Sinir.

    "...?"

    Vikir shook his head.

    "Vikir, you asshole!"

    A rough tackle followed.

    Tudor, looking upset, hugged Vikir''s side tightly.

    Sancho and Piggy rushed over, and Bianca was standing behind him with her arms crossed.

    "Vikir! What''s going on!"

    "I was worried you wouldn''t make it!"

    "I know, he''s so sneaky."

    Behind him, the three brothers, Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro, stood in an uneasy manner.

    Because of the attention of those around him, they couldn''te and talk to him, and they just seemed to be anxious from a distance away.

    At that time.

    Dolores walked up to Vikir.

    "...."

    "...."

    The two made eye contact and said nothing.

    Dolores didn''t say much. Only.

    "Don''t let me worry."

    The president''s words were brief.

    Then.

    Professor Banshee stepped forward and put an end to all the confusion.

    "Vikir-kun."

    "Yes."

    " ...How did you get out?"

    Professor Banshee returned to his stern demeanor.

    "This gate, as everyone knows, can only be opened and closed by four keys. There is only one way to forcibly tear it open, and that is from the inside, not the outside, with the full force of a Swordmaster or seventh-ss mage or higher."

    "...."

    "Which is why I can''t help but ask, how did you tear the barrier?"

    Representatives of Varangian, Themiscyra, and Magic Tower came to Professor Banshee''s side.

    They, too, were curious.

    "This is the first time I''ve seen this barrier torn since I became vice director of the Varangian."

    "Do you think I can tear it apart? Maybe it would be possible if we put all our effort into it from inside the barrier?"

    "Hehehe-but not for a single student."

    Students from the other schools were also curious to see how Vikir had gotten out of the warehouse.

    Many eyes were on Vikir.

    Vikir replied in a nonchnt tone.

    "I was lucky, It just so happened that this artifact was used to tear apart the barrier."

    With that, Vikir lifted the ne from around his neck.

    The red inverted pentagram remained silent as if it would never move unless it was Vikir''s will.

    Professor Banshee and the other school deans shook their heads.

    "That must be the thing that was in the far corner of the... warehouse, but wasn''t that a shelf?"

    "That''s right, that''s a shelf, the one we used to put the artifacts on!"

    "Why is that thing so small?"

    Vikir came out carrying not an artifact, but a shelf where the artifact was stored.

    And for some reason, the shelf was reduced to the size of a ne.

    Professor Banshee swallowed hard.

    "is it. Well, since it was in a warehouse storing artifacts, the shelf must not have been an ordinary item. You''re very good at recognizing it."

    "Thank you."

    "So, its purpose was to tear apart the barrier?"

    "Yes."

    "Can you show the effect? It''s because it''s an artifact that hasn''t been registered in the warehouse."

    "I''m afraid that''s not possible. I''ve already used the ability once, and I don''t know when I''ll be able to use it again, maybe never."

    Many of the artifacts in the warehouse were either single-use or had very long cooldowns.

    That''s why Professor Banshee and the deans couldn''t do much more research on Vikir''s artifact.

    To the naked eye or touch, it''s just a normal, solid mineral.

    The same was true when mana was poured into it.

    The other mages, who had been examining it for some time, had alle to the same conclusion.

    "It is now worthless."

    In the end, the mysterious artifact was recorded only by Vikir''s testimony.

    It was a single-use artifact, intended simply to tear apart barriers.

    * * *

    24 hours ago.

    Vikir stepped across the barrier and into the warehouse.

    The other nine students had spread out, each answering the call of the artifacts that called to each of them.

    "...."

    Vikir looked around in silence.

    A space lined withrge stone pirs. Divided into sections, it resembled a deserted warehouse.

    The floor was scattered with artifacts.

    Rings, nes, staffs, swords, shields, helmets, shoes, and more....

    Each and every one of them is a piece of artifact with immature magical energy.

    And there were a few artifacts on arge shelf in the very back that were especially powerful.

    There were swords that emitted a fierce energy, armor that emitted a ck aura, and other rings and nes that emitted blue and green light.

    Perhaps some of the higher-ranking artifacts with particrly strong energies were kept on separate shelves.

    Most of the students picked up the artifacts on the floor, focusing on those that emitted beams of light toward them.

    When all the students were out of the warehouse, Vikir was the only one left.

    ''All gone.''

    Vikir turned to see that he was alone in the warehouse.

    Numerous artifacts were emitting rays of love toward Vikir.

    "...."

    Vikir stared at the artifacts that had chosen him.

    A pair of shoes that allowed him to walk at a fast pace, sses that allowed him to see very far, a flute that could put everything around him to sleep when blown, an ember that could extinguish all fires, an ember that could evaporate all water, a mirror that showed him his future mate, a ring that could take his life and the life of the other person at the same time....

    Each and every one of them is a very useful item.

    However, none of them caught Vikir''s eye.

    The only thing he seemed to be thinking about was waiting for everyone else to leave.

    Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud.

    Vikir stepped forward, paying no attention to the many treasures.

    There were special Artifact in the room that radiated unusually strong magic.

    Artifact that even wouldn''t choose the top ranked student, such as Dolores, Bakiraga, Hohenheim, and Lovegood.

    All of it were shining their light of courtship on Vikir.

    But.

    Vikir hadn''t touched any of them.

    Only.

    Whirrrrr-.

    He grabbed the shelf where the artifacts rested and threw them all to the ground.

    Then, Vikir looked down at therge, empty shelf.

    "Finally, I found it. The Seventh Corpse, Decarabia."

    The shelf that held the artifact. A red, inverted pentagram that no one had noticed.

    But Vikir knew from experience in the future.

    This shelf was the true reason for the warehouse''s existence, and the rest of the artifacts were just a trick of the eye.

    Tsutsutsutsutsutsu...

    Vikir gripped the shelf tightly and channeled his mana into it.

    Unlike the other Artifact, the shelf showed no reaction even when touched by Vikir''s mana.

    Except.

    Swoosh-

    Vikir felt an enormous amount of mana leave his body.

    Waves of mana that ebbed and flowed like a tide.

    This strange shelf was now sucking up Vikir''s mana like a lump of water in a drought.

    "Indeed. There must be a reason why so many Artifacts are being suppressed."

    Vikir tightened his grip on the shelf and looked around.

    The Artifacts that had been shimmering and glowing just a moment ago, begging to be chosen, had suddenly gone dark.

    The Artifacts on the top of the shelf were also silent as they fell off and rolled across the floor.

    They don''t glow, they don''t rattle, they just remain silent.

    Fear. Fear. These Artifacts were clearly afraid of something.

    "... but I am not afraid of you."

    Vikir lowered his head and looked at the inverted pentagram in front of him.

    He had already defeated three demon kings of their caliber. There was no reason to be scared anymore.

    Kaaaaaah!

    Vikir instead gave strength to the mana that was being sucked in.

    His entire body''s power surged like a storm.

    His mana, which had be even thicker and more concentrated since he''d reached Swordmaster level, surged towards the Inverted Pentagram with tremendous momentum.

    Boom, boom, boom!

    The size of the Inverted Pentagram, which was merely supporting a few high-level Artifacts, suddenly began to expand.

    It was the size of a small shelf, then arge table, then arge bookcase, then an entire warehouse.

    "...! ...! ...! ...!"

    Beads of sweat began to form on Vikir''s forehead.

    A battle of mana. Who would win.

    Vikir pushed with all his might, tasting the blood between his clenched teeth.

    The blood vessels in the whole body pulsate as if they are about to burst, and mana gushes out.

    Everyst bit of it.

    ...Just then.

    Bang!

    A single loud crimson st rang out.

    Vikir felt the flow of mana being sucked out of his body stop.

    At the same time.

    Zap! Zap!

    A crack began to form in the center of the Inverted Pentagram.

    The crack grewrger andrger, until it became an eye, which blinked open.

    ...sh!

    At the very center of the inverted pentagram, a single, bloodshot eye gazed from high above.

    Kuoooooooooo-

    An eerie, ghostly voice rises from the center of the ck air currents.

    [K-Hahahaha! I''ve had enough! The time hase to open the gates of the Abyss and destroy humans! Despair, weaklings! I, Decarabia, have descended!]

    Decarabia the 7th.

    He opens his crimson one-eye and sheds a sinister radiance upon the world.

    An enormous force of evil was emanating from the tip of the five-pronged horn.

    Then.

    "...."

    For a moment, Vikir''s gaze met Decarabia''s.

    Decarabia was slightly taken aback as his gaze locked with Vikir''s, who red at him from below.

    Then.

    Decarabia rolled his eyes and looked to his left.

    [...?]

    And then he rolls his eyes again and looks to the right.

    [...?]

    Does not exist.

    Countless corpses piled up, blood flowing in rivers, fire burning to the sky, and the earth covered in ash.

    And no gates to the Demon World.

    There was nothing.

    All there is is just empty darkness.

    Finally, Decarabia rolled his eyes at the Vikir below him, and with a bit of a sneer, he asked.

    [...I. Excuse me, who are you?]

    It was quite an awkward attitude.

 Chapter 261: The Inverted Pentagram (3)

    <h4>Chapter 261: The Inverted Pentagram (3)</h4>

    An eerie and terrifying voicees from the center of the ck air currents.

    [Ku-hahahaha! Every hair on my head, every toe on my feet! My entire body is overflowing with mighty power! I''ve had enough! I swear here and now, in the most taboo of ces in this dimension, that I will open the Gate of the Abyss and exterminate the humans of this world! Despair, weak and foolish beings, despair, and scream, for the great doom-bringer, this body, Decarabia, has manifested on this earth!]

    Decarabia the 7th.

    He opens his crimson one-eye and sheds a sinister light upon the world.

    .

    Danger Rating : S

    Size : ?

    Found in: ''Serpent''s Womb'', deep within the Gates of Destruction

    -Nicknamed ''Seventh Corpse''.

    A natural enemy of mankind, one of the ten gues known as iprehensible and unkible.

    "Sweep away food like a swarm of locusts."

    -��The Ten Commandments�� 10: High.-

    Vikir gazed at the gigantic ck hole before him.

    ''What''s a thing without hair or toes....''

    Meanwhile.

    Decarabia rolls its eyes in bewilderment, wondering if something is missing.

    But Vikir knows exactly what''s going on.

    ''Decarabia, the only inanimate demon of the Ten Corpses.''

    Demonse in many forms, but this inanimate object is one of the most unusual.

    In fact, there''s always been a lot of debate about whether these beings should be considered objects or demons.

    Depending on the era, they were sometimesbeled as demons and sometimes as artifacts.

    However, Decarabia''s abilities were certainly "demonic," going beyond the typical artifact.

    It has only one power, and it''s pretty simple: create a shield.

    Decarabia''s shield is a strange shield that growsrger and stronger the more mana it absorbs. Of course, there is a limit to its defensive power, but it has growth depending on the amount of mana absorbed, so it is quite versatile.

    Vikir recalled the Age of Destruction.

    "After feeding on the mana of the other nine demons, Decarabia grew sorge that it became a great shield against all the attacks of the Human Alliance.

    On a battlefield where everything was burning, in front of a countless number of exhausted human heroes, Decarabia''s shield stood.

    It was too big to be a shield.

    It was more like a barrier, an insurmountable ''Wailing Wall''.

    ''The heroes who were able to break through that absolute defense could be counted on one hand.''

    The soaring red Wall and the ck Wraith Trees that grew behind it were enough to kill the spirit of humans.

    But.

    Vikir already had the Wraith Tree.

    And now he had Decarabia in his hands.

    ''Now I can destroy it.''

    Dekarabia hasn''t drained much mana yet, and now that Vikir has seeded in finding it before the Ten Commandments can find it, all that remains is to destroy it.

    Vikir is just about to unleash his Swordmaster aura to destroy Decarabia.

    [...I. Excuse me, who are you?]

    Decarabia said.

    Vikir answered simply.

    "The person who woke you up."

    [...person? You mean human? Oho, in my memory, the human race originally had a more stooped waist and was covered in hair all over. They carried spears and swords made of ground stone.]

    Decarabia, hearing that it was a human, started to release some words again.

    [You mean to tell me that you''re a human?]

    "Yes."

    Having said that, Vikir tried to swing his sword once more.

    The current Decarabia was much smaller and weaker than it had been when it was known as the Wailing Wall, and if he had enough time, he could destroy it.

    But.

    The Decarabia''s next words were surprising enough to stop Vikir''s sword in its tracks.

    [Good. You are a weak but lucky human being. As of now, the contract with the Demons is terminated, and we will begin anew with the Humans, and you will be the contractor''s representative!]

    "...?"

    [Now, present your code of conduct, human! What do you want? To use me to fulfill your grand ambitions!]

    Vikir paused on his sword for a moment.

    A code? Was he asking for an instruction?

    As Vikir stands there with a puzzled expression, Decarabia also looks puzzled and closes its eyes.

    "...?"

    [...?]

    There''s a moment of awkward silence between them.

    Finally, Decarabia said.

    [What, human? Did you wake me up without knowing what I am?]

    "I know. You''re a demon."

    [Khaha! Well, that''s only half true. To be exact, it is a being that ''was'' a demon.]

    Decarabia spoke in a tone that was actually quite friendly, unlike the terrifying voice at the beginning.

    [I am a being under the influence of the one who first woke me from my slumber].

    "Under the influence of the one who woke you?"

    [Yes. This body falls into a slumber every thousand years, and whoever is the first to wake me up determines my disposition for a thousand years].

    Humans have only known Decarabia as demons for about a thousand years at most.

    There is no way to know what they were before that.

    In Vikir''s Age of Destruction, the first to awaken it was a demon, so it existed as a demon, but before that it may have been something else entirely.

    Decarabia said that there was a time, a long time ago, when it was considered an angel.

    "Hmm."

    Vikir thought for a moment.

    Then he spoke.

    "So now that I have awakened you, you will do as Imand for a thousand years?"

    [Yes. That''s right. Our rtionship will be featured in the folktales of your species, at least. After all, your species is short-lived].

    Decarabia said with confidence, but such things were not Vikir''s concern in the first ce.

    "...I hear you."

    At the same time.

    Whoosh!

    An aura red from the tip of Vikir''s sword.

    [Huh? What are you doing, human, why are you giving me a sword... huh!?]

    Decarabia didn''t finish its sentence.

    Vikir swung his sword across the room and struck him.

    Decarabia writhed in pain and began to squeeze tears from its one eye.

    [Uh huh huh-what are you doing, human... ... No, contractor! Why on earth are you trying to harm my body!]

    "Because I can destroy it now."

    [I mean, why would you want to destroy it in the first ce!]

    "Demons Kill."

    Vikir dismissed it briefly.

    ng! Swas-Swas-Swas-Swash!

    Again, Vikir''s sword shed into the Decarabia in aplex trajectory.

    [Aaahhhhh! Now, wait a minute! Wait! Just wait!, why are you trying to kill a demon?]

    "Because demons try to harm humans."

    [Really!? Well, then I''m not a demon anymore! I''m neither a demon nor a god in the first ce, I''m just an objective Artifact...]

    "I don''t believe in demons."

    Vikir shed his sword down once more.

    Uh-oh!

    Decarabia''s massive body began to shrink.

    Of course, he could only scream, tears pouring down his face.

    [I''m serious! No, I''m serious! I just stopped being a demon a while ago!]

    "I don''t believe in the demon...."

    [You''re crazy! It''s real! I told you, you can feel the demonic energy in my body!]

    At that, Vikir paused his sword for a moment.

    He hadn''t felt it since earlier. The demonic scent that had filled the warehouse not long ago.

    [I swear it''s real. hick-hick-hick-hick...]

    Dekarabia began to cry like a little girl.

    Vikir stopped hitting Decarabia for a moment.

    "Hmph. Does that mean you''re not a demon then?"

    [Yes! I don''t lie!]

    "But even so, it''s better to destroy it here before it falls into the hands of demons...."

    [Hey, since you''re the one who woke me up, it''s useless if the demons get their hands on me, I''ll have no choice but to work for humans for the next thousand years!]

    Decarabia desperately shouted at Vikir, who looked down with a disbelieving expression.

    [I''m quite useful, I have an eye for Artifact, I know about the world long ago, and I can make shields!]

    The word ''shield'' in Decarabia''s words piqued Vikir''s interest.

    From his memories before the regression, he knew how awesome Decarabia''s shields were.

    ''Wailing Wall''.

    If he had the mana to support it, he could erect a barrier of absolute defense.

    When Vikir seemed to hesitate for a moment, Decarabia spoke up.

    [Look how great I am!]

    Decarabia''s gaze flicked to the corner.

    Then he spotted a hilt of a crude magic sword that looked like it was about to fly toward him at any moment.

    It was Artifact that had been resting on top of Decarabia, on the shelf that had served as a rack only moments before.

    [That''s the Giant Sword of Rage Disorder! This is the sword of the Giant King that was legendary long ago. Although it has great attack power, it has been sealed for a long time due to its crazy aggressiveness that attacks everything around it.]

    Decarabia frowned, and the chains binding the sword broke.

    Soon, the giant sword began to fly towards Vikir, drawing a red-hot trajectory.

    Decarabia said to Vikir.

    [Human, ce your hands on my body, manipte my mana, and draw an image in your mind].

    "What image?"

    [Anything! A shield, a wall, a barrier, anything that will protect you!]

    Vikir nervously ced his hand on top of Decarabia''s.

    And then.

    ...Swoosh!

    A significant amount of additional mana was drained.

    At the same time.

    Ziiiiiiiing-

    A translucent inverted pentagram was drawn before Vikir''s eyes.

    It emitted a brilliant light, then caught the flying giant''s sword and sent it flying.

    Boom!

    The sword flew into the corner of the warehouse and broke in half.

    "...."

    Vikir had a fresh admiration for the defense of the Decarabian shield, the Wailing Wall.

    This much for so little mana.

    ''That sword was obviously a high-grade Artifact, and for something like that to shatter so easily means that the shield''s defense is indeed considerable....''

    Vikir stroked his chin and thought.

    [What do you think, do you want me, do you want to possess me, do you want to own me?]

    Vikir said nonchntly as he looked into Decarabia''s one-eyed gaze, which was shaped into an unpleasant grin.

    "Then give me back the mana I put into it."

    [Eh? Give and take? What a human....]

    "...."

    [Ah, I got it! Put the sword away!]

    Vikir held out his palm, and the Decarabia whimpered a bit, before spitting out all of his mana.

    Vikir felt the mana he had drained just moments before return to him.

    At the same time, Decarabia grew smaller and smaller, until it was the size of a baby''s palm.

    It took a quick nce at Vikir and quickly clung to his neck.

    Clink- clink- clink.

    A red chain appeared from nowhere and was carefully attached to Vikir''s choker.

    It is intended to be worn as a ne.

    [Well, what else can I do for you, human?]

    Decarabia seemed to be worried that Vikir would raise his sword again and recite some line about ''demons kill'' or something.

    Vikir considers for a moment, then speaks.

    "Spit out all the information you have. All of it. All of it."

    [Huh? Information from former contractors?]

    Decarabia hesitated for a moment, then nced at the aura zing from the tip of Vikir''s sword.

    [Ah, I see, it''s a bit cheesy, but I''ll cooperate, so please stop with the scary talk of destroying things].

    Vikir packed the small Decarabia in his arms.

    Now that he was its master, there was no need to destroy it.

    In fact, it would be an even greater loss to the demons.

    Clink.

    Vikir patted Decarabia, which was now small enough to be worn around his neck.

    [Ah. Almost forgot this, I do not react to any life form other than you as a representative of the contractors, so take note of that, human].

    Vikir nodded in agreement with the Decarabia''s caution.

    It was time to go outside.

    Vikir looked around and saw that the artifacts were all lying on the ground, their shine gone.

    They seemed to be cowering in front of Decarabia.

    Sssssssssssss...

    Vikir imbued the tip of Beelzebub with an aura.

    Baskerville 8th. Vikir''s encounter with CaneCorso, who lurked in the Grave of Swords, helped him grow.

    sh!

    Soon, the sword master''s aura, capable of cutting even things that could not be cut, emanated.

    Sevenrge teeth and a still-small but sharp eighth tooth ferociously tore through the atmosphere of darkness.

    Boom.

    The sound of tearing bonds erupted in a loud explosion.

    Vikir stepped through the crack and stepped out.

    The Night Hound has fulfilled its purpose, and is now off to find its next prey.

    [Ah~ I am so lucky, to have such a pretty and beautiful ''mistress'' in this life].

    ...with a somewhat strange partner.

 Chapter 262: The Season of Redemption (1)

    <h4>Chapter 262: The Season of Redemption (1)</h4>

    After a long journey, Vikir returns to his dormitory at Colosseo Academy.

    "Wash up first, Vikir! I need to do something first...."

    "What?"

    "Oh, just to clean up some personal work that I''ve been putting off because of the University League."

    As soon as Piggy walked into his dorm room, he started fussing with something.

    It was a piece of paper with numbers, diagrams, and graphs all over it, probably something rted to finance.

    Vikir went into the shower without a word.

    [hack-hack-hack-]

    The cub stood still under the warm water, checking to see if it was good.

    As the water flowed down its ck fur, it seemed to melt into the water.

    Normally, he would have patted its head, but... Vikir was silent now, his brow furrowed slightly.

    It was the ne that had been making so much noise earlier.

    A red chain hanging from a choker around his neck.

    It was the 7th Corpse Decarabia.

    [K-hahahaha! I am Decarabia! A taboo being! A savior of the species! A mixture of great destruction and magnificent creation! And the lucky one to have a pretty, beautiful mistress for this activity period!]

    His voice is set to be heard only by Vikir in the first ce, and Vikir''s ears ache with the constant chatter.

    Decarabia seemed to like the fact that it was hanging around Vikir''s neck and chest, and was in high tension the whole way back.

    But the good feelings onlysted so long.

    The moment Vikir stepped into the shower and stripped off his clothes, Decarabia''s chatter stopped.

    [Hey contractor, don''t forget to carry me in the shower with you in case someone picks me up... eh?]

    The pupils in Decarabia''s eyes, which were wide open in a nearly circr shape, were shaking.

    [....]

    Decarabia stares into Vikir''s face.

    [...?]

    And now Decarabia is looking down at Vikir again.

    In the meantime, Vikir has taken a quick shower.

    [....]

    Decarabia has already be very quiet.

    It''s been talking less and less, and now it''s practically inanimate, as if it hasn''t moved at all.

    Its eyes, which had been looking up and down several times, had also closed.

    Vikir, puzzled by the sudden stop in the chatter, taps Decarabia with a mana filled finger.

    [...I am. Decarabia. Are. you. going. to.mand. something?]

    "Not like that."

    [...Then.]

    Its eyes open briefly, then close coldly again.

    A very dry and bureaucratic answeres back.

    "...Well, that''s quieter now."

    Anything that works is good.

    Vikir nodded with a satisfied expression.

    * * *

    When Vikir stepped out of the shower, Piggy was getting ready to go out.

    When Vikir was wiping the moisture from his hair with a towel, with his back turned to the cloudy steaming out of the shower room.

    "Hey, Vikir. I have to go out!"

    Piggy said, clutching a stack of papers in his arms.

    There were so many papers in Piggy''s arms that he wondered if he could even see.

    Vikir sat back in his chair with a towel around his neck and asked.

    "Where are you going?"

    "Uh-huh. I''m going to show my personal work to my professor."

    Personal work refers to studies that students do on their own to improve their skills outside of what the academy assigns.

    Piggy smiled broadly.

    "We''ve got a ''mock investmentpetition'' in a little while."

    "A mock investmentpetition?"

    "Yep. It''s apetition where you have to research and invest in promising stocks and sectors in advance, and it''s organized by a famous Bourgeois family. There are many benefits to winning or being in the leaderboard!"

    "I thought that was the end of the survival contest. There''s more."

    "Yes. There''s a swordsmanship tournament, an archery tournament, a magic tournament, a lead dancing tournament, an eating contest, a boxing tournament, a theater tournament, a singing contest, a painting contest, a contest to raise the best beetle... There''s been a lot of themtely, haven''t there?"

    Ever since Vikir donated the money he made from selling gnoll leather to the schrship foundation, there have been a lot morepetitions of one sort or another.

    It was all an excuse to give schrships to students.

    ''Professor Banshee is doing a surprisingly good job.''

    Vikir nodded silently.

    He''d doubted that the schrship foundation would do the right thing, but the fact that they were producing visible results as soon as the survival contest was over seemed to indicate that they could be trusted.

    Meanwhile, Piggy smirked as he finished.

    "I''m a little short on grades, so I have to make up for it by getting extra credit for cing inpetitions like this."

    The truth is, Piggy''s talent forbat is average to slightly below average, but he excels at everything else.

    He''s skilled in administration,w, medicine, art, and finance.

    He was especially good at acquiring, analyzing, and summarizing information, as well as keeping up with thetest news and happenings of prominent figures in society.

    (Apparently, he had already won several contests for raising great rhinoceros beetles.)

    ''If Cindiwendy saw this, she''d be screaming for a scout right now.''

    Vikir nodded silently.

    "I''m sure you''ll do fine."

    For someone who''s usually a man of few words, the effect of Vikir''spliment was stunning.

    "...Thank you, Vikir. You''re always so inspiring."

    Piggy clenches his jaw, impressed. His eyes turned red and moisturized.

    Piggy then pumped his fists at Vikir.

    "That''s right, I''m going to beat that kid this time."

    "...That kid?"

    Vikir asked, puzzled, and Piggy snorted and nodded.

    "Yeah, Sinir, because she said she''s going to be participating in the Mock Competition this year too!"

    Sinir. Top of the Hot ss. A freshman from amoner''s background.

    A prodigy whose name pops up all over the ce at Colosseo Academy, a ce where only geniusese together.

    In her major, magic, she has shown herself to be as talented as the mages of the Mage House Morg, and in her minor, Cold Weapons, she has surprised everyone with her proficiency with swords, spears, bows, and other weapons.

    And other than that, she was famous as an alpha girl who could do anything, such as theory if theory, handwriting if written, certificate if certificate, part-time job if it was a part-time job.

    This time, she was a librarian with a part-time job at a cafe, but she still managed to take first and second ce in various practical and written tests.

    Furthermore, she had recently ced eighth overall in the University League as a freshman, proving her star potential.

    Piggy said, fueling the rivalry.

    "Sinir says she''s also really good at ounting and office work, which is why she''s working as a librarian at the library."

    "I see."

    Vikir simply nodded, not realizing that Sinir had a talent for economics and investments.

    "This mock investmentpetition is sponsored by Bourgeois House, so there''s a lot of students who enter for prizes, schrships, and maybe even a job after graduation, and I''m sure Sinir is one of them. I''m not going to lose! I''m going to go!"

    Piggy waved, dropped a few papers, picked them up, and stood up.

    But he didn''t see the one that fell behind his heel.

    Vikir picked it up and tried to hand it to Piggy.

    "Oh, it''s okay, it''s just a poster for thepetition, I don''t need it!"

    Piggy waved it off and ran down the hall.

    The room was now empty.

    Vikir sat down at his desk.

    [hack-hack-hack-]

    [Don''t drool on me you dirty puppy... No, spider, what is this?]

    A spider and Decarabia were on the desk.

    The baby madam is circling around and looking around to see what''s so good about Decarabia.

    [Hack! Hack-!]

    [Ugh, I thought I told you not to drool on me, no, don''t touch me, no, don''t climb on me, just stay away... What, female?]

    [Hack hack...]

    [Oh my, are you ady? In that case, I will turn a blind eye to this level of rudeness. In reality, I just close my eyes and surrender myself to your touch...]

    Vikir breathed mana into Decarabia and gave amand.

    "Open your eyes."

    [....]

    Decarabia hesitated for a moment, then squirmed as if it had no choice.

    [Mm. Yes. I open my eyes, to my new taste. Maybe I''d rather have a man in that face...]

    "What are you talking about, open your eyes and tell me something about the tenmandments?"

    When Vikir pped him with the palm of his hand, Decarabia responded in a hurry.

    [Oh, you mean the one you asked earlier? What was it... Yeah, it was about the 6th of the 10, right?

    "Yes."

    Vikir was asking Decarabia for information about his next prey, the 6th of the Ten.

    [The 6th Corpse, he must have been close to the 9th Corpse, they were always together].

    Dekarabia knows something about the areas that Cindiwendy''s research hasn''t been able to uncover.

    Even if it''s just a small piece of information, it''s a big help.

    Vikir paused for a moment as he listened to Decarabia''s words.

    "The 9th Corpse is Dantalian. He wears the skin of Guilty, the head of House Indulgentia.

    Dantalian''s puppet, Guilty, had close ties to the Old Testament faction of the religious hymn Quovadis.

    And a demon who was close to Dantalian. The 6th corpse.

    ''If we investigate the Old Testament Faction of Quovadis, we might get a clue.''

    After the Indulgentia''s disappearance, indulgences were still being issued and sold by the Old Testament Church of Quovadis.

    After a brief hiatus from selling indulgences due to the publicity surrounding Dolores''s 95 refutations, the Old Testament Church has recently resumed issuing indulgences due to public demand.

    As we enter the new season, sales of ''indulgences'' with new specifications are booming.

    Surprisingly, they were even discounted.

    ''It''s going to be a busy business since it''s been around all season.''

    Vikir thought about investigating the Old Testament faction of the Quovadis once more.

    Maybe he could find a lead to someone with connections there, maybe even somewhere else entirely.

    At that moment.

    Something like a hunch, something he couldn''t exin logically, shed through Vikir''s mind.

    "...."

    Vikir''s gaze snapped to the front door.

    There was the poster Piggy had dropped on his way out earlier.

    The flow of the economy was created by humans, but cannot be predicted by human power.

    However, the intuition of very few geniuses is able to connect with the great flow.

    If you think you''re one of those few, this poster is for you.

    Thispetition is held in a ce called ''the spine of the economy''.

    and will be the staircase that will lead you to the big stage of the financial world.

    Eligibility: All students of the Academy

    Submission period: Until one week after posters are distributed (��Posters will naturally expire after one week)

    Organizer: Bourgeois Family

 Chapter 263: The Season of Redemption (2)

    <h4>Chapter 263: The Season of Redemption (2)</h4>

    The night sky is colored a deep blue.

    The cloudy sky resembles a swarm of sharks rising to the surface from the depths of the ocean.

    Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump!

    The sound of urgent footsteps echoed in the quiet of dawn.

    Narrow streets between red brick buildings. An alley with stagnant puddles of water.

    "...Huff, huff, huff!"

    A man wearing armor under a ck trench coat was wiping blood from the corner of his mouth.

    "I would have been left out at this point."

    Clutching the hatchet at his waist, he stuck his head out of the building and looked left and right.

    Finding the street empty, he breathed a sigh of relief and muttered.

    "Damn it. Miss Uroboros, if it weren''t for that bitch, I''d be able to devour the Imperial City...."

    The man muttered through clenched teeth.

    Then. Something eerie shed over his head.

    "...!?"

    The man looked up, startled.

    He looked up to see a figure standing between him and the building, both feet outstretched, staring down at him.

    A ck cloak, a gue doctor''s mask. It was the Night Hound.

    "What, what is it, you?"

    The man looks up, confused.

    But the Night Hound didn''t answer. He just kept his words short.

    "Your name is Edward Bourbon Jr. Is that right?"

    The man looked a little flustered at that, then asked.

    "Who are you, Ouroboros, did she send you?"

    He rolled his eyes for a moment, then eximed again.

    "Oh, no, that bitch always moves alone, so is this really the Night Hound, the one she says she''s chasing...?"

    He mumbled something under his breath, but judging by the way he was fixing his hatchet with the hand he had hidden behind his back, he wasn''t about to give an easy answer.

    But the Night Hound didn''t seem to be expecting an answer either.

    "Aka ''St. Bourbon''. He''s an intermediate Graduator. A high priest of the emerging cult of Ohm, which is making quite a name for itself in the north. 25 years ago, he made his first contract with the devil by killing his cousin after molesting her and offering her as a sacrifice. Since then, he has continued his religious activities, destroying thousands of families through forced offerings. Toward the end of his life, he aligned himself with the Demon Army and confronted the Faithful Quovadis. Infiltrated the Church as a spy, using his knowledge and understanding of the scriptures as a weapon. Later, during the Holy War, he stabbed the Human Alliance in the back, mortally wounding heroes such as Don Quixote La Mancha Tudor and Usher Poe Bianca."

    The eerie howl of a night hound from behind a mask.

    " ...I asked, is that correct?"

    The man bellowed at the question.

    "What are you talking about! The story about being a priest and my cousin is true, but I don''t have any ill will with Don Quixote or the Usher family...!?"

    But he didn''t finish his sentence.

    The moment he looked up and opened his mouth.

    Thud-

    A single drop of blood from the tip of the Night Hound''s fingertip stretched out in front of himnded in his mouth.

    "...uhuk!?"

    The man instantly struggled with the bitter taste and sickening sensation on the tip of his tongue.

    No matter how much he vomited and strangled with his hands, the pain wouldn''t go away.

    It was a poison so fierce that it curled around the roots of his tongue and lodged itself deep in his throat.

    The man tried to envelope the hatchet he had drawn from his waistband with his aura, but it quickly scattered into thin air.

    ...Debag!

    He fell to the ground, dead within seconds of a drop of blood entering his mouth.

    It was a rather futile end for an intermediate Graduator.

    "...."

    Night Hound. Vikir nced down at the dead assassination target lying face down in the alley.

    He was thest assassination of the day, the 19th.

    ''...Hey, what was he muttering earlier?''

    Vikir recalled thest words the dead man had muttered.

    ''Damn it. Miss Uroboros, if it weren''t for that bitch, I''d be able to devour the Imperial Capital....''

    ''So is that really the Night Hound, the one she''s chasing...?''

    The words were open to interpretation.

    ''Miss Uroboros, was that crazy woman chasing me?''

    Apparently, Vikir''s prey was also her target.

    It seems that Miss Uroboros has her own agenda.

    1. confronting mysterious forces and hunting down criminals across the Imperial Capital.

    2. seeking to meet the Night Hound.

    Vikir recalls a time when he was hunting gnolls to pay for school.

    ''She attacked me as soon as she saw my face, so I thought she was just a psycho, but she must have a n of her own.''

    Whatever that n was, there was a lot of ovep with Vikir.

    What''s more, she seems quite eager to meet him.

    "Tsk."

    Vikir clicked his tongue and dropped to the floor.

    As he searched the body of the priest who had died after drinking Madame''s poison, he found a crumpled piece of paper in his pocket.

    .

    ''All sins of this faithful church member are forgiven.''

    �C This indulgence was issued and endorsed by the Old Testament Church, and counterfeiting it was punishable by death.

    An indulgence sold by the Old Testament church in Quovadis Family.

    It was crumpled on all sides, with only the words ''sins forgiven'' being clean.

    How ironic that this was thest remaining keepsake of a man who had made a pact with the demon and practiced unholy deeds.

    Then.

    [... rise. rise. rise. rise. rise. rise].

    A red-hot, inverted pentagram light emanated from Vikir''s chest.

    Decarabia opened his single eye and peered into the indulgence.

    [Not the smell of a colleague... . It smells of what was once an ally, but is no longer an ally, is no longer an ally, is now aplete stranger, and is now an outright enemy!]

    Decarabia looked at Vikir''s gaze and changed his words, wondering if he had missed it.

    He seemed concerned that Vikir would draw his sword again, saying, "Demons kill," or "I don''t believe in demons.

    But Vikir was too busy thinking about other things to pay attention to Decarabia.

    " ... You mean you smell the demon in the indulgence?"

    Even though the demon ''Dantalian the 9th Corpse'' of the QuoVadis family was eliminated, the smell of the demon did not disappear.

    It even.

    [Yes. This smell is definitely the smell of ''6th Corpse''. I was always hanging out with my old friend.]

    I also got information that the 9th Corpse, who had already hunted in the past, was close friends with the 6th Corpse.

    "...Good. I guess we''ll have to look through the Quovadis one more time."

    Vikir nodded and left.

    ....

    And then.

    A few minutes after Vikir left, another shadow lengthened in the alley.

    "What?"

    A helmet with tworge snake scales sticking out like horns.

    And shiny ck tights and high heels.

    ''Ms. Uroboros.''

    A viin whose true identity has never been discovered despite the fierce pursuit of the Imperial Guard, which is lined up with powerful men.

    She stared down at the corpse lying at the end of the alley.

    "Hmph... I''ve been chasing you so long and so hard, have youe and gone already?"

    She lifted her head and looked across the alley.

    Then her eyes, peeking out from behind her mask, softened.

    "My diligent pursuit of the scum has paid off. I should follow him, and with any luck, he''ll show me his honored form."

    Miss Uroborosunched herself toward the opposite alley.

    It was in the direction where the walls of the Colosseo Academy towered in the distance.

    * * *

    Vikir turned into a dog and was just about to cross the tunnel beneath the wall.

    Bark- bark- bark- bark- bark- bark- bark- bark- bark- bark- bark- bark- bark- bark- bark- bark- bark.

    The sound of the wake-up call echoed throughout the dormitory.

    "...phew."

    Vikir dragged his tired body back to his room.

    He pushed open his door and sat down on his bed to find Piggy rubbing his eyes.

    "Uh-oh, Vikir. You''re up early?"

    "...."

    Vikir sat on his bed for a few seconds before heading out to the gym.

    The whole school gathered in the gymnasium every morning to do gymnastics and then go to take a bath or eat.

    "At least today is a weekend."

    Vikir was relieved that he didn''t have a morning lecture.

    Weekend. A holiday.

    Midterms and University League are over, and there is some time left until the final exams.

    During this short break, students would be able to recharge their batteries before facing their final exams and then, finally, the sweet treat of a vacation.

    After a quick wash in the bathhouse, Vikir had breakfast in the cafeteria.

    Later, when he stopped by the newspaper club room to catch up onst night''s news.

    "Wait a minute, Professor! That''s a notice posted with permission! Please don''t take it off!"

    "Hohoho-shut up."

    Vikir heard an argument that could be heard outside the window.

    Wondering what was going on, he opened the door slightly and peeked inside to see familiar faces.

    Dolores and the rest of the newspaper department.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir, all of them looking pretty pissed off.

    On the other side of the room stood a rather unexpected figure.

    Professor Sady.

    She was holding in her hands all of the signs that had been posted on the walls of the hallway and on the doors of the clubhouse.

    These were the following

    Bulletin Board

    The Newspaper Club hereby corrects the part of the newspaper article published on January 0th regarding the criminal activities of the Night Hounds, attributing the crime to Ms. Uroboros.

    This error urred because the authorities were not aware of the existence of "Ms. Uroboros," a copycat of "Night Hound."...

    -All members of the newspaper club, Ryukeion.

    And now, Professor Sady had torn down all of these wall posters rted to ''Night Hound'' and ''Miss Uroboros''.

    "Hohohoho, kids, I''m in charge of cleaning up the environment this week, so please don''t put up any of this nasty crap."

    She brushed her bangs and muttered irritably.

    "Ugh, why do I have to suffer this annoying punishment in the first ce? "I just ran a ''violent crime help and counseling center.''"

    "The problem with counseling is that you don''t distinguish between victims and perpetrators, right?"

    Dolores pointed out, but Professor Sady didn''t even pretend to listen.

    With that, she stormed out into the hallway.

    In the meantime, Vikir remained silent and hiding behind the locker room.

    He has a grudge against Professor Sady because of the ''left eyeball incident''.

    There is nothing good about meeting Professor Sady.

    "...uh? Bro!"

    That''s when Sinir stuck her head out the window, spotted Vikir, and called out.

    "Did you see that? Prof. Sady just flipped the ce upside down. It''s a total mess."

    "I saw it, too. She''s got a mean streak."

    "She''s always been weird, but she''s even worse today. Did she get dumped by her boyfriendst night? Why is she so hysterical? I can''t imagine she has a boyfriend who would put up with that kind of behavior."

    At Sinir''s whining, Vikir nodded.

    With that, Vikir left the club room with the morning paper, which contained the events of the previous night.

    Sinir followed him for a while, asking where he was going, but then he turned sullen and said he had to practice for the mock investmentpetition in the afternoon.

    The ce where Vikir headed was theboratory of the professor in charge, Morg Banshee.

    Knock, knock, knock.

    After knocking, he opened the door and heard Professor Banshee''s cold voice.

    "Now you open the door before I answer? How arrogant of you. Deduct one point for attitude."

    Professor Banshee realized it was Vikir without even looking in the direction of the door.

    "I''m here to ask for travel permit."

    Professor Banshee''s eyes narrowed at Vikir''s words.

    "...Out of school? All the conveniences are on campus, what do you want to do?"

    "I''m going to the Rune Church. For repentance."

    Professor Banshee''s eyes widened at that.

    "Hmm. Repentance? That''s surprising, I didn''t think you were religious enough to go to mass on the weekends."

    Shaking his head slightly, Professor Banshee signed the excuse slip with a rare expression of satisfaction.

    "Very good. That sincere attitude, I haven''t seen in a while, Vikir-kun."

    But beneath his expressionless face, Vikir was thinking about something else.

    ''...I didn''t say I would do it.''

    I don''t go out to repent, but to make people repent.

 Chapter 264: The Season of Redemption (3)

    <h4>Chapter 264: The Season of Redemption (3)</h4>

    A peaceful weekend morning.

    Vikir walks out into the street.

    The streets were bustling with people at midday.

    On the terraces of cafes,dies are chatting, businessmen are meeting with clients, and young people are walking arm in arm,ughing and talking about whatever they''re having fun with.

    As pretty women and handsome men walk busily, the surrounding eyes follow them for a few seconds and then turn to the front again.

    The smell of flowers from a flower shop, sweet and savory from an egg bread shop.

    From the railroad station ahead, where carriages rushed by with urgent news, came the nging of hammers to announce the construction of an expansion.

    "...."

    Suddenly, Vikir stopped at the edge of the street.

    Red brick buildings and narrow alleys between them.

    At the narrow entrance, a line of Imperial Guard seals prohibited entry.

    It was the same ce where Vikir had carried out his assassination at dawn just hours earlier.

    Two things had changed.

    The bodies had already been removed, marked only by a white line on the ground.

    The other was a deep gash in the floor.

    "...."

    Vikir stood at a distance and examined the marks on the floor.

    It looked like a snake had slithered across it. It was definitely not there when Vikir carried out the assassination.

    A crowd gathered, murmuring at the bloodstains on the walls and floor.

    "They say a man died in there during the night."

    "They say he was horribly tortured and then poisoned."

    "Be afraid. Could this be the work of Night Hound, too?"

    "No. They say the killer this time was that woman, Miss Uroboros."

    "What, there were other viins besides Night Hound?"

    "This guy''s slow on the news."

    Vikir blended into the crowd and quietly listened to the conversations around him.

    Vikir didn''t need to worry, he hadn''t left any clues, he moved inplex movements, turning into a dog in the middle of nowhere and slipping under narrow terrain, something no human could ever track.

    It''s just that he''s a little surprised that Miss Uroboros has been there since he left.

    ''...She''s a strange woman.''

    Vikir became even more alert to Miss Uroboros.

    She was no longer just a copycat.

    She is a terrorist with an unknown purpose and seems to be chasing the Night Hound, so we need to keep a close eye on her.

    ... However, today''s outing was not about Miss Uroboros.

    Vikir left the crowds and headed toward the center of town, wearing one of his hats.

    "...there are so many people."

    When Vikir reached the main street of the Imperial Capital, the most importantnd he marveled.

    There are so many people, it''s like looking at a dense mass of bean sprouts.

    ''I could blend in and nobody would know.''

    Vikit thought, If you want to hide the woods, hide it in the forest.

    Vikir blended into the flow of the crowd and moved forward.

    Soon he could see the White Shield, the holy symbol of the Quovadis Family.

    The colorful and magnificent temple was maintained by a branch of the Old Testament Order.

    At the entrance to the temple, there was a huge crowd of people lined up.

    A white-robed priest shouts into a ram''s horn.

    "Come on, repent, this is your chance to get your sins forgiven at half price! Come on, it''s not every day that you get this chance! Half price for misdemeanors, 30% DC for felonies, and for the really big crimes, you''ll have to consult the bishop! Here''s your indulgences, your indulgences, today only! Buy now and save even more on taxes! This is a special sale that ends tomorrow and we don''t know when it will happen again!"

    The shouts of priests selling indulgences were mixed with the calls of cotton candy sellers selling cotton candy, corn sellers selling roasted corn, and bubble sellers selling bubble toys for children.

    Peopleing out of the templee out with bright expressions and walk with brisk steps.

    All of them had bought indulgences.

    A couple''s conversation caught Vikir''s ear.

    "Ugh. I bought indulgences this time and I feel relieved. I''ve been scolded all this time because of guilt."

    "Oh, for that time when you were drinking and driving a carriage and hit a kid?"

    "Yes. I haven''t been able to sleep since then, and now I''m here to repent because they''re offering a big discount on the indulgence."

    "But didn''t the child die? Did you apologize andpensate the family?"

    "No? No, I didn''t. I bought an indulgence. I bought a really expensive one, so it''s okay, right?"

    "I guess. Well. Whatever. You''re such a good person, anyway."

    Vikir turned his head and studied the man and woman for a moment.

    ''They don''t smell like demons.''

    They were not demon contractors. Surprisingly.

    However, simr types of people were overflowing here in the imperial capital.

    Right now, in this branch alone, the Old Testament Order of the Quovadis, there were tons of people lined up to buy indulgences, and on the other side of the line were people who had bought indulgences.

    If you think about all these people who have sinned and all these people who have been forgiven, it''s kind of dizzying.

    ''I wonder why the world is like this.''

    Vikirshook his head with the sigh that older people usually make.

    He''s been doing his best to prevent the end of the world, but somehow the task feels even heavier today.

    And then.

    Vikir joined the end of the long line and after a long wait was granted entry into the temple.

    Once inside, passing betweenrge white stone pirs that were so pristine and clean it was impossible to tell how much money was spent on them, Vikir was greeted by a group of well-dressed priests.

    "Greetings, sir. What sins have youmitted, and are there any indulgences you seek?"

    One of the priests approached Vikir.

    His youthful appearance suggests he hasn''t been in the service for long.

    The priest clung to Vikir, exining various things he hadn''t even asked.

    "We have indulgences for misdemeanors �C felony indulgences, of course �C and special indulgences for the most heinous crimes that are punishable by death, but since you, Mr. ..., look so young, it''s unlikely you''vemitted such a felony �C would you prefer a misdemeanor?"

    To the priest, who was struggling toe up with a quote for a customized indulgence, Vikir asked bluntly.

    "If I can repent for sins I''vemitted in the past, can I repent for sins I''llmit in the future?"

    The priest smiled wryly, as if to say yes.

    "Anything is possible if you buy indulgences in advance. What sins are you going tomit?"

    " ..., which is a heinous crime."

    The priest''s expression hardened at Vikir''s words.

    What would the priest''s reaction be to a human foreshadowing a great crime toe?

    ...Now, with a serious expression on his face, the priest spoke in an even more serious voice.

    "What is it. hmm. In the case of extreme crimes, the price of indulgence would be very high. Are you okay? If you have the means, I will bring the bishop. Oh, first, would you like to go to the VVIP-only chapel over there and have a cup of tea while waiting?"

    He''s making a calction, not rebuking someone who''s about tomit a sin.

    And with the tone of a sales promotion.

    As Vikir chuckled, the priest asked again, more cautiously.

    " ..., but what kind of a sin is it that you''re looking for such an expensive indulgence?"

    Vikir replied.

    "I think I will kill one of my neighbor''s pigs."

    Moment. The priest tilted his head as if he had heard wrong.

    "One.... Pig... That''s a heinous crime?"

    "Yes. Pigs are also living beings, and isn''t it a sin to take a life anyway?"

    Then the priest sighed deeply.

    He nced at the long line of people behind him, then turned back to Vikir.

    "Hey."

    Now the words were short.

    "Just go. Okay?"

    When Vikir still stood there, unmoving, the priest casually tore open a piece of indulgence paper in his hand and stamped it with his own seal.

    "There, there. I''m giving it to you because it''s amazing that we came this far with just one pig''s life."

    "...Thank you."

    "Good. Next time, don''t sin. Be a good boy."

    The priest sighed heavily and pped the roughly shaped indulgence into Vikir''s hand.

    Vikir looked up and said.

    "The money..."

    "Tsk, tsk, that''s enough, man."

    The priest clicked his tongue and suddenly plunged his hand into Vikir''s pocket.

    He pulled out a clinking coin.

    It was a one-gold coin, copper with traces of gold.

    It went into the offering box that the priest wore around his neck.

    Tang-nk

    "Yes, you have repented~"

    The priest''s regr voice rang out in a deep voice.

    That was it.

    * * *

    Vikir left the temple.

    In his hand, he held a small indulgence.

    ''All sins of this faithful church member are forgiven.''

    �C This indulgence was issued and endorsed by the Old Testament, and counterfeiting it was punishable by death. �C

    ''...Is this how it is.''

    Vikir synthesized the information he had seen, heard, and felt as he entered the temple.

    The energy of the demons within, the faint but unmistakable smell.

    [...I can definitely sense the aura of the Sixth Corpse, though it is still faint].

    Even Decarabia, at his chest, was saying the same thing, sniffling with a nose that wasn''t there.

    Vikir followed the rotting scent of the Sixth Corpse back to the main road.

    ''It''s not in this temple, but... is definitely involved. It must be somewhere in the Imperial City.

    Vikir had just turned his back on the temple and was about to head back to the academy.

    "...!"

    Suddenly, a familiar face caught his eye.

    ''Iik.''

    Vikir hastily pressed his bun hat to his head and went to the side of the pir.

    Even with the hood pressed down, Vikir''s sharp eyes could make it out.

    Dolores.

    Her face was seen as she quietly walked into the temple, looking around with suspicious movements.

 Chapter 265: The Season of Redemption (4)

    <h4>Chapter 265: The Season of Redemption (4)</h4>

    Dolores L Quovadis.

    She sneaked out of her dormitory before afternoon to visit a temple of the Old Testament here.

    " ...If I do this, I won''t get caught, right?"

    Dolores, her face and body covered with a ck hood and cloak.

    Camouge. She intended to examine the temple as an ordinary person, not as a saint.

    Dolores moved through the crowd in a manner that seemed suspicious to anyone and hid in the darkest corner of the temple.

    ''Good. It was perfect.''

    But against the white floors, walls, and columns, Dolores'' outfit only stood out.

    Only she didn''t realize it.

    The purpose of her visit to this Old Testament temple today was quiteplex.

    The current state of affairs in the Faithful Quovadis is one of chaos, with the Old and New Testaments in such violent conflict that they can barely keep up with the rest of the Empire, and heresies and cults are springing up everywhere.

    Dolores hade on a mission to address these issues.

    Her already serious expression was even more so today.

    "By the way, this same issue came up in the second round of the University League, didn''t it?

    She recalled a quest from Quovadis that she had seen in the University League not long ago.

    Faithful Holy Family / Difficulty [�����]

    The Empire is currently groaning under the growing gue of heresies and cults.

    Put yourself in the position of Quovadis''s Inquisition and suggest ways tobat these cults and raise the status of the Lun Church.

    Contents rted to the Quovadis family''s ''Inquisition''.

    I thought this was a quest prepared by the Inquisitor Mozgus, but it turns out that the task was given by someone higher up.

    For reference, the person who submitted the response to this quest was Sinir, a first-year student.

    ''The Pope himself read Sinir''s solution.''

    Dolorester asked Sinir.

    He asked Sinir what he''d done to solve that problem and how he''d gotten the Pope to approve it.

    But Sinir simplyughed and avoided answering.

    ''Oh, it wasn''t much, it was rejected for being too radical in the end, though I did manage to pass with flying colors for originality, ehhh-''

    Dolores swallowed hard.

    ''The only way to get rid of heresies and cults is for the Old and New Testaments to reconcile and join hands, or for one or the other of them to disappear, or for all of them to be wiped out in one fell swoop, but thest is impossible....''

    So Dolores came to investigate the root cause of all this: the Old Testament.

    As a New Testament saint, Dolores would surely be a show-off, so she had to go undercover to investigate.

    " ... There''s a lot of people here."

    Dolores muttered to herself as she looked at the long line of people that had lined up several times around the temple.

    Compared to the New Testament temple, the Old Testament temple had far more people.

    The amount of money collected was also different.

    ''I originally knew that the Indulgentia family ounted for arge portion of the donationsing into the Old Testament faction... I guess that wasn''t really the case.''

    Despite the disappearance of the Indulgentia as an affiliated family, the Old Testament''s funding stream remained strong.

    How did the Old Testament maintain its wealth even though Guilty, or rather Dantalian, was dead?

    Simply by selling indulgences? Is that really it?

    ''Although there are many people lining up to buy indulgences, most of them are small buyers. I don''t see anyone who''smitted a heinous crime or who can afford to pay a lot of money, although that''s to be expected.''

    People who can afford to pay big money for indulgences are unlikely toe to the temple in broad daylight.

    If they did, they''d send a proxy or do it in writing, not in person.

    ''Then where do the high-ranking priests of the Old Testament get their VVIPs from?''

    A source of funding. That''s what Dolores was wondering.

    ... Just then.

    Arge, ornate carriage pulled up to a corner of the temple.

    The white shield, the holy symbol of the Quovadis, could be seen glistening with oil.

    From the carriage stepped a fairly tall, middle-aged man who smiled as the crowd cheered.

    "...!"

    Dolores paused when she saw him.

    The person she was most reluctant to see in this world had appeared.

    "Humbert Humbert L Quovadis.

    A man who held the rank of Cardinal, the highest dignity within the Old Testament, a position so exalted that there was no ce higher except for the Pope.

    At the same time, the father of St. Dolores.

    Ironically, Dolores feared her father.

    Ever since she became his foster daughter, a long time ago, because she was born with divine powers.

    Especially before she went to bed, when his gaze would sweep over her body as he said goodnight, and she would feel as if snakes were wrapped around her entire body.

    "...ugh!"

    Dolores felt her heart sink and she pressed her back against the stone pir.

    Just hold still. If she held her breath and stayed still, Humbert wouldn''t look her way.

    But her wish was not granted.

    "Hmm?"

    Humbert was a sharp man.

    He sensed the gaze that was momentarily and intensely focused on him and turned his gaze towards it.

    "Just a moment, Adjutant. There''s something on my mind, and I need you to take a quick look around before entering the temple."

    He gestured to the adjutant who followed him, then began to walk toward the stone pirs.

    Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

    Wherever Humbert steps, a path appears.

    Each of the Lun''s believers took off their hats and bowed their heads, clearing a path for Humbert.

    Dolores felt her heart pounding like it was going to burst.

    Humbert''s footsteps kept getting closer and closer.

    Each time, it felt like a huge snake had wrapped itself around Dolores'' heart.

    The nervousness reminded her of the time she almost ran into Guilty in the hallway.

    However, there is no good male junior who helped her at that time.

    It was just a fluke.

    "...."

    Dolores swallowed hard.

    Just as she was desperately trying to think of an excuse to make in front of Humbert.

    "Who is this?"

    There were two men blocking Humbert''s way.

    Both were men with their faces covered by white hoods and robes.

    Humbert''s expression furrowed slightly.

    "...who?"

    "Oh,e on, look at me! Hehehe- this, with my face all covered up."

    Then, with a heartyugh, the white hood was pulled off.

    An old face was revealed, a face that looked like it had suffered a lot.

    He was an elderly man, somewhere between an uncle and a grandfather.

    A person with a warm appearance and a rather short build that can be easily seen anywhere.

    But when Humbert saw him, he couldn''t help but stiffen.

    "...It''s been a long time, Cardinal Luther."

    One of only two cardinals in the Holy Family of the Quovadis.

    The two most powerful men directly under the Pope.

    One was Humbert, and the other was this man in front of Humbert.

    ''Martinluther L Quovadis''.

    A prominent priest who hade all the way from a poor, cramped pioneer temple on the far side of the world. The leader of the New Testament. Humbert''s greatest rival.

    He is Cardinal Martin Luther.

    Behind him, Archbishop Mozgus, arge man who also belonged to the New Testament, stood with his back straight.

    Humbert asked politely, with a friendly smile on his face.

    "What brings you here, Cardinal Luther?"

    "Hehehe~ I came to spy."

    "...yes?"

    Humbert asked, his expression hardening, and Luther chuckled.

    "My temple only attracts flies every time, but the temples that Cardinal Humbert travels to are always crowded with believers like this, so I have to be able to endure this. Hahaha~ So, despite my shame, I came here to gain some know-how."

    Humbert could only force a smile at Luther''s friendly tone.

    "Is there any reason why there are so many believers? it''s just that it''s a good ce and has arge poption."

    "Haha~ is that so? I''m learning something new, I guess it''s all because of my immorality."

    Unlike Humbert, Martin Luther''s method of evangelizing was quite unique.

    He rarely preached doctrine or gave rousing speeches.

    Instead, he sought out the old, the sick, and the poor, always saying,

    ''If you are hungry and tired,e to me.''

    ''If you suddenly feel sick or have no energy,e to me anytime.''

    ''If you need someone to sincerely congratte you on your wedding day,e to me anytime.''

    ''If you''re having a funeral and need someone to grieve with you,e by anytime.''

    ''If you''re really sad about something and want to cry a lot, or just talk about it, you cane to me anytime.''

    ''If you can''t sleep because it''s too cold or too humid at home,e by anytime.''

    ''If you need to lift something heavy or otherwise exert yourself, feel free toe by.''

    ''Besides that, pleasee by anytime.''

    We don''t ask how many times you''ve read the Bible, how many hymns you know by heart, how many times you''ve evangelized your neighbor, how many times you''ve been to the temple, how many times you''ve given an offering, etc.

    Instead, he would go to the room of an old man who lived alone, morning and night, to see if the floor was warm and the wind was not blowing, to a sick child to see if he had a fever and if he had eaten some food, to a disabled person to see if there was any work to be done, etc.....

    Martin Luther and the New Testament priests under his wing always seem to be somewhat weak andcking.

    Barely enough to eat, barely enough to clothe themselves.

    They were the opposite of the Old Testament priests, who were refined in appearance, speech, and dress.

    The biggest difference, of course, is the amount of money they collect.

    Humbert turned to Luther and half-bowed his head.

    "Now, if you''ll excuse me, I have a meeting to attend."

    "Oh my gosh, this old man took up too much of your precious time."

    Luther smiled, bowed, and drew a holy symbol on his forehead.

    Humbert turns politely and is about to walk away.

    Luther suddenly recited a passage from the Bible.

    "The earth is full of demons, and they seek to devour us."

    Humbert stopped dead in his tracks.

    Behind him, Luther continued speaking.

    "Do not be afraid, but stand. We will ovee with the truth."

    Arge crowd of people who had gathered to buy indulgences were watching them.

    To their faces, Luther continued.

    "Even if my rtives, wealth, honor, and life are all taken away."

    Humbert is silent and does not turn around.

    Luther ended his speech in a gentle but firm manner.

    "The truth will live and make the empire eternal. Lunmen."

    * * *

    It was certainly unusual for two of the most powerful men in the Holy Family of the Quovadis to meet in the same ce on the same day.

    Arge crowd had gathered to witness the sensational event, and Dolores had managed to slip through the crowd unharmed.

    Dolores, who hid herself in the corner of the temple to avoid Humbert''s gaze, tilted her head with a sigh of relief.

    ''What could Cardinal Luther possibly be doing here?''

    Martin Luther had been making fewer and fewer appearances in publictely.

    Dolores is already worried that the Pope''s dementia symptoms are getting worse as he gets older.

    She was very dissatisfied with the contrasting actions of Humbert, who was recently increasing his external activities, and Martin Luther, who was reducing his external activities.

    ''I need to be more active, even if it''s on my own.''

    That''s the way to make the New Testament visible to the public.

    That''s what Dolores thought.

    ... But unlike the ideal, the reality is difficult.

    Dolores was still a student, and being a saint was only a title, with little real power.

    She couldn''t help but feel that she would never be able to do anything on her own.

    ''... If only He were here.''

    Suddenly, Dolores remembered a person.

    Someone whose presence wasforting.

    Someone who, for the first time in his life, made Dolores want to lean on.

    And for the first time in her life, she wanted someone else to lean on her.

    ''Night Hound.''

    With him, she felt confident that she could aplish anything, no matter how difficult or difficult.

    Indeed, they had defeated even the most fearsome of demons together.

    ''With him, nothing would be too much trouble.''

    If Night''s Hound was by her side, the Old Testament, the heretics, the cults, and Humbert would be no match for her.

    ''... I miss you.''

    Dolores admitted her feelings honestly.

    Perhaps for the first time.

    But the way to meet him was elusive.

    Maybe he had already forgotten her.

    Just once, that night in the orphanage.

    It might have ended in just a one-night stand.

    "...haa."

    Dolores didn''t even try to stop the sigh that escaped her.

    Just then.

    "Is it this way?"

    An unfamiliar voice called from behind a stone pir.

    Startled, Dolores turned her head behind the pir and saw a familiar face walking toward her.

    It was Humbert''s adjutant.

    Before entering the temple, Humbert had sent his adjutant to pursue the gaze he had felt earlier.

    ''Uh, what should I do!?''

    Dolores whipped her head around in a panic.

    However, this is a dead end, and there is no way out.

    Eventually, she would be discovered by the adjutant.

    With that, Humbert''s adjutant stepped swiftly forward and poked his head out from behind the innermost stone pir.

    ...and.

    "As expected, there is no one. Cardinal, I heard you''ve be much more sensitive these days."

    The adjutant shook his head and turned away.

    And above his head.

    "...! ...! ...! ...!"

    Dolores was struggling on the side of a stone pir several meters away from the ground.

    "Eup-eup-eup?"

    Dolores looked away, very embarrassed.

    A man holding Dolores'' waist with one hand and tightly covering her mouth with the other.

    A man wearing a ck dog mask that ismonly sold on the street and that children would y with can be seen standing close to a stone pir.

    An invisible, sturdy wire is holding the weight of the two men.

    Dolores recalled a past memory from the rough hand covering her mouth.

    ''Surely this has happened before...?''

    In the past, when she''d confronted Guilty in the hallway, she''d been dragged through the locker room by a strong hand.

    It must have felt simr then.

    "...Vikir?"

    Dolores asked, without realizing it.

    But the answer that came back was something else entirely.

    "...shhh."

    A low growling voice. A hoarse, hurt-filled voice.

    The mask had changed, but the momentum and aura were the same.

    Night Hound.

    He came to see Dolores.

    �C

    �C

    �C

    tl/n: Rune -> Lun

 Chapter 266: The Eucharist (1)

    <h4>Chapter 266: The Eucharist (1)</h4>

    The face of a cute ck puppy.

    Vikir was currently wearing a child''s mask sold by a street vendor.

    As it is urgent, it is a night hound stopgap mode.

    And in front of him stood Dolores.

    Dolores looked dazed as if she couldn''t tell if this was a dream or reality.

    "...Night Hound?"

    Nod.

    Vikir nodded in response to Dolores'' question.

    Thump-thump-thump-

    Dolores felt her heart pounding in her chest at the sudden encounter.

    He acted as if he had the supernatural power to see into people''s minds.

    The moment she thought she wanted to see him, he was there, like a lie.

    If it wasn''t a superpower, then what was it?

    ''...or fate?''

    Amon theme in popr ssic romance novels.

    But Dolores, who was precocious for her age, thought all of that was childish.

    But now that she''s in this situation, she can''t help but think about it.

    Fated mates. An inevitable rtionship, you know, all that heart-pounding stuff.

    ''Well,e to think of it, even then....''

    Dolores recalled a moment in the past when she was briefly assimted into the spirit of Night Hound.

    A cold, lonely, and difficult journey. A pilgrim walking through a thorny path carrying all his burdens alone.

    The memory of that night, when she could feel his pain, his suffering, his numbing loneliness.

    A soulmate who went through extreme situations together. Even though she doesn''t know anything about the outer shell, there is definitely an invisible tie between him and herself.

    That''s what she thought.

    Then.

    "Come to your senses."

    Night Hound voice snapped her back to reality.

    She looked up quickly to see Night Hound''s palm flicking back and forth in front of her.

    "Oops. I''m sorry, I was a little dazed for a moment, I was a little surprised...."

    Dolores blushed and apologized.

    Then she looked at Night Hound, who had the face of a cute puppy, and frowned.

    "What can I say? The atmosphere has changed a bit. It''s the same with the mask."

    "...."

    Vikir didn''t answer, but the clever Dolores had already noticed. This meeting was not in Night Hound''s ns.

    So he must have been too busy to prepare his mask.

    "We must have met by ident."

    "...."

    "Do you live around here?"

    "...."

    Vikir remained silent, but Dolores knew that she was interpreting it as a positive meaning.

    "The fact that we met while looking around in casual clothes on a weekend means that you have a residence in this neighborhood. Moreover, considering that you are familiar with the geography of the Colosseo Academy....''

    Previously, Dolores had thought that Night Hound had informants within the school.

    However, looking at the current situation, the possibility that he was a person inside the school could not be excluded.

    ''...Wait, why did I say that earlier?''

    Dolores had just said the name ''Vikir'' without realizing it.

    Why, simply because of the hand covering her mouth?

    Because it reminded her of the time she almost ran into Guality in the orphanage hallway?

    Dolores felt a familiar sense of d��j�� vu.

    But she doesn''t know exactly what it is.

    It''s just a vague feeling that she''s missing something important.

    Meanwhile.

    "...."

    Vikir watched the adjutant''s back as he walked away.

    The scent of the demon was unmistakable on him, even faintly.

    ''Even though Dantalian has been eliminated, the members of the Quovadis family still smell of the demon.''

    That scent wafted throughout the Temple of the Old Testament, as he had confirmed when he bought his indulgence.

    And Humbert, whom he had seen earlier from afar, also had a strong smell.

    ''The New Testament priests at Quovadis Family don''t smell it at all, so the Old Testament and the Sixth Corpse must be involved.''

    In particr, Humbert, the leader of the Old Testament, was a suspicious man in many ways.

    The carriages he traveled in and the mansions he lived in were covered in precious metals and works of art, and his spending was enormous.

    It was even revealed that he was receiving regr entertainment and bribes from Guilty of Indulgentia, but he was also a skilled politician who survived by having his tail cut off.

    ''But he wasn''t a demon.''

    Deeply intertwined with the demon, but not the demon.

    No matter how carefully Vikir looked, it was the same conclusion every time.

    ''Then we should investigate his new source of funding.''

    Humbert still boasts wealth despite the extinction of the Indulgentia family..

    ''If we can find out where he''s getting his money from, we might be able to find the Sixth Corpse, who is said to be close friends with the Ninth Corpse.

    And Vikir sees a clue in Dolores''s words.

    "They say that cults and sects are running rampant throughout the empire because of the conflict between the Old and New Testaments, so I thought I''d try to find a solution...."

    Dolores revealed why she hade to spy on the temples of the Old Testament.

    And Vikir reacted to the words ''heresy'' and ''cult''.

    ''The Old Testament versus the New Testament, and they have the most to gain from it.''

    Suddenly, Vikir''s mind shed back to a target he had assassinated not long before.

    The name Edward Bourbon Jr. Aka St. Bourbon.

    A mid-level Graduator. A high priest of the emerging religion of Ohm, which has be quite powerful in the north.

    A traitor who will betray the Human Alliance and join the Demon Army in the Age of Destruction decadester.

    In the original fate, he would have wounded Tudor and Bianca and escaped, but Vikir killed him beforehand to eliminate any future worries.

    The Indulgence Book was found as a memento of the dead cultist.

    ''All sins of this faithful church member are forgiven.''

    �C This indulgence was issued and guaranteed by the Old Testament, and counterfeiting can result in punishment �C

    After some digging, Vikir came up with a pretty significant result.

    ''Most likely, the Old Testament school''s new source of funding is cults and heresies.''

    It was possible that the Old Testament faction was sowing ''religious autonomy'' in the form of indulgences to gain an advantage over the New Testament.

    Perhaps Cardinal Martin Luther recognized this to some extent, which is why he is here today.

    Hearing Vikir''s words, Dolores covered her mouth with her hand in astonishment.

    "...Oh my God! I didn''t realize that Cardinal Luther was watching! I must have been a frog in a well."

    "This is not the time to me yourself."

    Cults and heresies were likely to be just the tail.

    At best, they are ''middle man'' who distribute andunder funds.

    ... The ''real'' thing was behind the scenes.

    The Old Testament of the Quovadis. And the cults and heresies running rampant throughout the empire. And a money trail that leads to a mysterious ''dark side''.

    In order for the Quovadis to be purified, the flow of dirty money must be cut off.

    "Let''s start with the middle man."

    Dolores nodded at Vikir''s words.

    What kind of outside force could be corrupting and manipting the Quovadis?

    Using the worldly weapon of money, no less, and quietly.

    "...When heresies and cults take hold, it''s the poor and needy who suffer the most."

    Dolores continued, sounding indignant.

    "I don''t think people need to believe in Lun to be saved, as long as they can find peace of mind by doing good to others in ways that arefortable and familiar to them. But they''re not. They...."

    Vikir was well aware of the dangers of heresy and cults.

    During the days when the war against the demons was in full swing, he had seen many verminous things that roamed among the poor and sick, sucking the lifeblood out of them.

    Money, food, body, blood, appetite, lust, pleasure, etc... ... Most of the things that heretics and cults demand from believers are obvious.

    "The one I killed yesterday was a simr case."

    Dolores paused for a moment at Vikir''s words.

    As expected, Night Hound was fighting. Still alone, still hurting.

    "... Let me help, too."

    Dolores held Night Hound''s hand tightly.

    It was like that before, but now it was even stronger and more earnest.

    ...Aah!

    A light of respect and affection that could not be hidden was radiating from Dolores'' eyes, which strongly demanded solidarity.

    "I can be of help."

    At her strong assurance, Vikir asked curiously.

    "That buff against Dantalianst time. Can you do it again?"

    "... That, that is."

    Dolores quickly looked intimidated.

    Apparently, it was only a temporary thing, and she couldn''t control the power yet.

    ''Of course. If you could, you''d already be called the Ironblooded Saint.''

    Vikir nodded.

    Right now, Dolores is still just a young girl. She has a long way to go before she can awaken and be a great hero who will save all mankind.

    It would be wrong to expect too much.

    "I see. First, we''ll have to deal with the cults that are supposedly connected to the Old Testament."

    "Uh, how? Are you going to visit every single one of them in the empire?"

    At that, Vikir shook his head.

    "There''s not enough time for that. There is a way to ovee everything."

    A way to wipe out all the cults and heresies in the Empire in one fell swoop.

    Dolores'' eyes widened at the mention of such a method.

    Something that the young priests of the New Testament hadn''t been able to solve, no matter how many times they put their heads together.

    An answer they had all given up on.

    And yet, Night Hound was saying it quite firmly, his tone full of confidence.

    "And what is that?"

    Dolores asked with a twinkle in her eye.

    Like a true honor student, she had a ballpoint pen and notebook in her hand, ready to take notes.

    And then.

    Vikir spoke, his voice t and dry.

    "I need your body."

 Chapter 267: The Eucharist (2)

    <h4>Chapter 267: The Eucharist (2)</h4>

    The body of a saint is called the "Eucharist," which is often used to mean ''white bread and white wine''.

    Thus, the priests of Lun would eat a meal of white bread and white wine once a weekend.

    It was a tradition derived from the myth that, long ago, the prophet Lun made white bread from his own flesh and white wine from his own blood, which he shared with his followers.

    And those who followed the doctrines of the Lun religion, either by copying them or adapting them with clever twists and turns, had broadly simr cultures.

    For example, the ''New World Church'', ''Om Church'' and ''Manson Church'' which are rapidly growing in power throughout the empire.

    They copied and used Rune''s old doctrines almost exactly, but added their own unique interpretations to the empty parts of the doctrines, and eventually creating a whole new religion.

    And the highest-ranking priests, including ''Elmani'', ''Om'', and ''Charles'', the heads of theserge-scale heresies and pseudo-religions, were now gathered in one ce.

    It was in front of a temple of the New Testament in Quovadis, on the outskirts of the Imperial City, with few people.

    Arge group of people gathered together and began to talk.

    "Greetings, Priest, it''s been a while. Are you looking much better?"

    "Well, I''ve gotten a bit of a boost this time around when a merchant guild donated their entire fortune to me."

    "Kya. You''re very resourceful. How did you get the donation?"

    "Is there anything special? The guild leader''s daughter there had been sick for several years, and I tricked her into saying I would treat her, so I took it all out. If you''re in pain, all it takes is a few narcotic painkillers."

    "Hahaha~ that''s awesome. I''ve been worried that I''ve been losing weight and this is going to make me look like I don''t have any."

    "Isn''t it because you brought in a new young concubine this time?"

    "Hehehehe~ That''s right. She already had a husband, but I managed to seduce her with indoctrination and make her fall head over heels for me."

    "Well done. To put it bluntly, wouldn''t you be a true god if they sacrificed not only all his wealth but also their body and soul for you?"

    "That''s right, otherwise salvation is out of the question~"

    Although cults and heresy priests differed in the reasoning and principles of their religions, they had one thing inmon.

    It was to gain weight by taking the backbone of those who were tired and struggling.

    At that time.

    The crowd parted to the left and right, and three figures walked out from different directions.

    They were Elmani, Om, and Charles, the leaders of the cults.

    Elmani, aged but still with a greedy gleam in both eyes, spoke.

    " ..., by the way. The fact that the New Testament of the Quovadis sent an invitation to dinner means that they finally recognize our ''New World Church'' as an official branch, right?"

    Then ''Om'', a man so fat that he almost looked like a ball, said.

    "That''s right. The Eucharist is the sharing of the blood and flesh of a saint. Calling us here probably means that they want to form a formal alliance with our church."

    The skinny, wide-eyed ''Charles'' nodded in agreement.

    "Yes. That''s why we''re meeting in secret today, to keep the Old Testament in check. When they learned that we had been providing funds to the Old Testament for a long time, they also wanted to get something out of it."

    The leaders of the heresies and cults gathered here all call themselves the Pope,

    They''ve all traveled here for their own reasons, having received invitations to a dinner that Quovadis had secretly delivered some time ago in the name of the New Testament.

    Having already established strong ties with the Old Testament, they are now looking to align themselves with the New Testament.

    "Since the Old and New Testaments are currently at odds within the Quovadis, if we fund them both, we''ll be able to survive no matter who wins."

    "That''s right, a clever rabbit digs multiple burrows, and no matter who wins in the end, we''ll just have to enjoy the reflex profits. Perhaps it would be better for us if the two sides were at odds for all eternity, with no winner or loser."

    "To do that, we must keep our gathering here today a secret from the outside world. I''m sure you''ve all kept your secrets well, haven''t you?"

    All the influential cults and heresies from across the Empire were here.

    The leaders of each religion had brought only a core group of trusted officials.

    "How fortunate is it that the New Testament bastards have finallye to their senses and reached out to us?"

    "They know they can''t win against the Old Testament without our funding."

    "Hahaha~ the New Testament bastards. Always pretending to be virtuous and clean."

    They came secretly, in the middle of the night, and rushed into the temple to see who would see them.

    ...No, they were about to enter.

    Quack!

    If it weren''t for the heavy drinking that came out of nowhere.

    Bruk, buk, buk, buk, buk!

    Debris from copsed structures and trees fell on the wagons and people.

    Screams began to erupt from everywhere.

    "What, what!"

    The heretics and cults circled around, panicking as they looked at the copsed earth and debris.

    And then, through the dense dust, they hear the sound of footsteps.

    Tap, tap, tap, tap.

    ck tights, killer heels over thirty centimeters high.

    Ms. Uroboros.

    She had appeared out of nowhere!

    "Hohoho~ what is this? What kind of trash is this?"

    She nced at the priests and shrugged once.

    "I heard that Night Hound had appeared, so I came here, and all I found was a bunch of stinky trash?"

    The priests shouted in outrage.

    "You insolent criminal bitch! what are you doing, kill her!"

    Then the soldiers, armed with spears and shields, charged at Miss Uroboros.

    But.

    Shiriririk- Kirik-

    The whip coiled like a snake, slicing through the arms, legs, and bodies of the soldiers like sliced zhini.

    A terrifying aura flew out in a purple and ck trajectory.

    Sssiiag! Kwak-kwak!

    The whip, which sprouted thorns like a rose vine, caused a faint earthquake every time it struck the hard rock floor.

    The faces of the heretics and cultists paled as the heavily armored pdins were nearly crushed to death.

    "No, no way! What kind of monster!"

    "Ha! What is the Imperial Guard doing!"

    "Help me, I''m not supposed to die in a ce like this!"

    Elmani, Om, and Charles tried to run away, but it was impossible.

    Miss Uroboros had already dropped down in front of them.

    She asked in aughing tone.

    "What are you guys? Are you the Pope?"

    They all nodded.

    "I am the Pope of the New World Church! Do you think you can do this to me and not be punished?"

    "I am the Pope of the Om Church. I have hundreds of thousands of followers who would grieve if I were to have an ident."

    "I am the god of the Manson Church. Those who seek to harm me will be harmed."

    Elmani, Om, and Charles spoke in stern tones.

    Then.

    Siiag! Siiag! Pow!

    Miss Ouroboros snapped her whip in the air.

    Soon, several of the trees that had been uprooted and fell down changed their appearance due to the aura, taking on the shape of trees with numerous branches extending out.

    "...?"

    Elmani, Om, and Charles scratched their heads.

    And then. Miss Uroboros said with a pious smile.

    "If you are the Pope or God, show me the proof. Then I''ll let you live."

    At the same time.

    Whirriik-.

    Miss Ouroboros''s whip swept across the front of Charles''s body.

    "What?"

    Charles, who stood dumbfounded, was quickly dragged to the giant tree in front of him.

    And then.

    Puff-puff-puff!

    Miss Uroboros''s thrown dagger from her belt pierced through both his shoulders and thighs, nailing him to the tree.

    "Aaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!?"

    Charles frantically screamed, but his body was already nailed firmly to the tree.

    Miss Ouroboros smirked.

    "Now, I''ll put aurel wreath on you."

    A whip studded with poisonous thorns wrapped around Charles'' head, which was fluttering furiously from side to side.

    "Ugh! Aaahhhhhhh!"

    Charles struggled violently, blood spurting out from all over his body, and then he went limp.

    He died of shock due to excessive bleeding.

    Next to him, Elmani and Om were lying naked and urinating.

    Miss Uroboros smiled brightly.

    "Yes, contestant number one. You have failed to resurrect! Contestant number two is next."

    Miss Uroboros walked over to the shivering Om.

    And then.

    Poof! Thud!

    She lifted the heel of her high heel and stamped on his toe, shattering it into a pieces.

    "Khaahhh! Ahhhhh! Kahak!?"

    Om struggled, but Miss Uroboros'' kicking didn''t stop.

    She started with his toes, then his insteps, ankles, shins, knees, and thighs....

    Soon, Om''s lower body waspletely crushed into a rag.

    Miss Uroboros smiled and said.

    "The next challenge is ''fixing a cripple''! Come on, stand up on your own two legs. Then I will save your life."

    But Om couldn''t get up.

    Only.

    "God, help me! I''m not a god! I''m not a priest! I''m just a cult! No, I''m a heretic, a heretic!"

    Om just begs for his life, vomiting out the truth, maybe for the first time in his life.

    "No, no, no! The Pope is dying...."

    "How could our savior show himself like that to a mere mob...."

    "Man, this is a scam, he can piss and shit, he has no divine power whatsoever!"

    The priests and followers, who had been submitting to the authority of their leaders, screamed in disbelief.

    Meanwhile, Elmani, the leader of thergest cult, red at Miss Uroboros with a determined expression.

    "I, I am not afraid of you! I will never give in, because I am the seconding of God to this world!"

    "Oh, really?"

    Miss Uroboros covered her mouth with her hand andughed.

    Then she turned to Elmani, intrigued.

    "If you''re really a god, wouldn''t it be okay for you to touch the holy water?"

    "What? Of course...."

    But Elmani could not answer.

    Because before he could open his mouth, Miss Uroboros took out a bottle from her arms and sshed the liquid contained on Elmani''s face.

    "Here. Holy water."

    Miss Uroboros smiled.

    At the same time, Elmani''s face began to make a terrifying sound.

    Wassshrkrkk-

    Flesh melts, blisters boil. The horrible smell of burning flesh began to assault the nose.

    "Aaaaaaah!"

    Elmani struggled, covering his face with both hands.

    However, the holy water had already melted the flesh and created countless holes in the bones, as well as burned everything inside them.

    "What, I identally poured hydrochloric acid instead of holy water?"

    Miss Uroboros rolled her eyes and p herself in the head.

    The faces of the other cult leaders turned white as they saw Elmani dying in terrible pain.

    "I, I''m not the seconding of Lun!"

    "Help me, I just like people to support me...!"

    "Ughhhhh! I just created a religion so I couldmit adultery with married men and women!"

    "Ughhhhh! I just made it a business so I could make some money!"

    The shocked confessions of the religious leaders follow. And the believers were also shocked.

    jjaeng-geng- wajangchang- pogsag-

    The sound of trust being broken and copsing was heard everywhere.

    * * *

    "...Hmm. Things are going a little differently than nned, huh?"

    On the roof of the New Testament Temple.

    Vikir, in Night Hound mode, looked down on the scene of devastation below with Dolores.

    Vikir''s original n had been to gather the leaders of the cults and heretics in one ce and exterminate them.

    In fact, it was originally Sinir''s n as well.

    In the past, Sinir had been assigned the following mission in the second round of the University League.

    Faithful Holy Family / Difficulty: [�����]

    The Empire is currently gued by a growing number of heresies and cults.

    From the perspective of the Quovadis Inquisition, suggest ways tobat these cults and raise the prestige of the Lun Crunch.

    Sinir''s somewhat radical answer was this.

    A n that Sinir would reveal to Dolores many yearster.

    Vikir already knew it from his pre-regression memories.

    " ...Cults and heretics are like weeds, you can''t get rid of them unless you pull them out by the roots, but since you can''t deal with all the grass seeds that are spread all over the ce, the only solution is to gather them in one ce and set them on fire."

    Of course, this doesn''t include local folk beliefs, traditional religions of indigenous peoples, etc. that don''t harm those around them.

    It only targets the scumbags who prey on the minds of the poor and weary, who extort money from them, who do terrible things to their children, and who covet other people''s husbands and wives.

    Vikir sends his cub to steal the handwriting of Martin Luther, a New Testament Bishop.

    Madame Young spewed out thread in the shape of the letters written on the documents in Luther''s office, solidified it, and when she pulled it off, she was able to steal not only the contents of the documents but also the handwriting.

    Meanwhile.

    "Uh, isn''t that a little too much?"

    Dolores shivered slightly.

    However, that is a n that Dolores, the ''Saint of Steel'', will carry out only a few decadester.

    So Vikir answered without much emotion.

    "Look what the dying cultists are spewing."

    At that, Dolores'' eyes widened.

    Phew!

    The blood spouted by dying people. The color of the blood was inky ck.

    Every single one of the high-ranking officers and devotees here had made a pact with the demon.

    Whether they knew it or not.

    ''As expected, they''re connected to the Sixth Corpse.''

    Vikir thought as he looked at the people who were dying in the hands of Miss Uroboros.

    To be honest, Vikir hadn''t been sure she would show up here.

    It was a fifty-fifty chance.

    This made it clear that

    1. She wanted to meet Night Hound

    2. Uroboros has a hostile rtionship with the demon''s minions (reason unknown)

    Wherever Night Hound had appeared in the past, she had always been followed by Miss Uroboros.

    So Vikir nned to be her imitator this time.

    ''After all, cross-dressing and a certain amount of whipping are not that difficult.''

    But things were elerated when Miss Uroboros showed up for real.

    Just in time.

    "This way! I hear screams!"

    "All hands on deck!"

    "We''ll get him this time!"

    The sound of the Imperial Guard rushing in after receiving the report could be heard.

    "Hohoho- Does this feel like I''ve been taken advantage of? I came here after receiving a report that night hound had appeared, but it was all in vain."

    Miss Uroboros shook her head in disbelief.

    "Night Hound... you mean to use me in this way? Hohohoho-you sneaky, charming thing, you just keep getting better and better, don''t you?"

    With that, Miss Uroboros turned on her heel and leapt into the air, disappearing in the blink of an eye.

    Nothing but dirt and darkness, swallowing everything up.

    And taking advantage of that opportunity, Bikir quickly entered the scene and caught a still-living louse.

    It was Om, the leader of the Om Church.

    "...Uugghhh."

    He had been horribly ovted in the lower half by Miss Uroboros.

    In his half-dazed state, Vikir had to rely on his Decarabia powers.

    He was mesmerized by the red light emanating from the single eye in the center of the inverted pentagram and spit out everything he knew before he died.

    "Ledgers... under the floor of a destroyed carriage... hidden in threeyers... money lines... top secret documents...."

    Just before Miss Uroboros left and the Imperial Guard arrived.

    Vikir moved urgently.

    "Quick, the ledger!"

    Then Dolores, who had been searching the carriage first at Vikir''s hand gesture, shouted just as urgently.

    "Here! I found it! Under the carriage!"

    Vikir and Dolores put the ledger in their arms and jumped into the dust.

    ''Now I''ve caught it past the tail and up to the body.''

    Vikir thought.

    ''All that remains is the head. Nothing but real shadow.''

    Vikir carrying Dolores, looked at the ledger while gliding through the air on Madame Cub''s thread.

    The answer Vikir sought.

    A quick nce at the ledger revealed it.

    A name that overwhelmingly dominates the list.

    An entity that was the source of funds for the Old Testament faction and used as a moneyunderingwork for heretics and cults.

    And the ce where the Sixth Corpse is currently hiding out.

 Chapter 268: Rich Friends (1)

    <h4>Chapter 268: Rich Friends (1)</h4>

    " ...They were wicked people I''ll never forgive."

    Dolores spoke while sitting on a water tank on the rooftop of an abandoned building with no one around.

    The sight of the heretics and cults dying in suchrge numbers was certainly horrifying.

    However, they were people whomitted evil deeds in various ces on the outskirts of the empire, beyond the eyes of the church.

    Scammers who took advantage of the hearts of sick patients and their families, or by scaring and intimidating them, used the wealth they had umted to lobby the central authority, and in return, they became more and more wealthy.

    The only way to defeat them was simple, radical, and sure.

    That''s why Dolores coborated with Night Hounds.

    And the result.

    Wearing the mask of Night Hound, Vikir was able to uncover the true identity of the Shadow figure.

    A man who not only nurtured and nurtured local heresies and cults, but used them tounder and distribute money, eventually taking over half of the Faithful Quovadis.

    The end of the long chain. There was the name of the ''Bourgeois'' conglomerate.

    Vikir handed Dolores the ledger he''d found at the scene of Miss Uroboros''s carnage.

    "See if you can handle it."

    A voice without pitch, and a cold warning in it.

    It was as if he was keeping a distance and drawing a line.

    But Dolores had already made up her mind.

    No matter how thorny the path, Dolores would follow wherever Night Hound led.

    And then.

    Flutter.

    Without hesitation, Dolores opened the ledger.

    "This, this!"

    Dolores didn''t need to look closely.

    The word "bourgeois" was written on almost every page of the ledger, and the frequency of its appearance was overwhelming.

    "... Unbelievable. Oh my God."

    Dolores said, her voice shaking with disbelief.

    It was clear what Bourgeois was after.

    To weaken Quoadis by fostering cults and heresies through donations, to split it into Old and New Testament factions, and then to take over both groups simultaneously, ultimately taking control of the entire Faithful Quovadis.

    In other words, it''s a silent great war between the tycoons, the Faithful, and the seven great families of the Empire.

    ''Makes the Morg and Baskerville fight look childish.''

    Although not a single drop of blood was shed, the viciousness and cruelty was beyond imagination.

    Vikir recalled the testimony of Decarabia he had heard earlier.

    " ... This painting is probably a coboration between the 9th and 6th Corpses."

    The 9th corpse, Dantalian, and the 6th corpse were said to be close friends.

    And the 6th may have been nning to use this opportunity to finish the painting with his best friend.

    "They support the Old Testament by making offerings to heretics and cults and using the money to buy vast amounts of indulgences. Cults and heresies are naturally secretive in their organization and often secretive in their ounting and taxation, so it would be easy to use them as minions."

    "So the ck money isundered to buy indulgences, and then it goes to the Old Testament."

    "Exactly. The sale of indulgences is a tax-free business sanctioned by the Emperor himself, so the Quovadis would have had no reason to be suspicious or wary in the first ce."

    "epting the free sweet treats without question turned me into a fat,zy pig, and that''s what Quovadis is now."

    Dolores muttered to herself.

    Vikir spoke briefly.

    "Reminds me of a bourgeois family motto."

    " ...huh?"

    Dolores looked up, puzzled, and Vikir spoke briefly.

    "There is no free lunch."

    A phrase that best summarizes capitalist society.

    Dolores swallowed hard.

    The reason why the Bourgeois family interferes with the Quovadis family is a question that can be answered without much thought.

    Trust. Faith. Faithfulness. Things that money can''t buy.

    A society that can afford even those things is a truly golden omnipotent world?

    "The sword of an Iron Blood Swordsman Family, the spear of a Spearmaster Family, the bow of a Divine Archer Family, the poison of an Extreme Poisonous Family, the magic of a Mage Family. All can be bought with money, but I thought that only the faith of a religious hymns could not be bought with money...."

    When Dolores looked downcast, Vikir said something else instead of consoling her.

    "Now that we know the Bourgeois''s intentions, we must find the real evil hiding among them."

    The work is not yet done.

    The individual in the group. The real enemy within the Bourgeois family must be found and eliminated.

    ''Perhaps he is the 6th Corpse.''

    And then. Dolores said, sounding a little less confident.

    "Thest time I posted a 95-article rebuttal to the Old Testament, the Old Testament didn''t even snort..., but this time we have to deal with the Bourgeois beyond them. Do you think it''s possible...?"

    "It is possible."

    Dolores narrowed her eyes at Vikir, who answered her question before she could finish.

    Vikir spoke strongly, his tone full of conviction.

    "If you have the power."

    How do you attack an enemy that is protected by society, armed with money,ws, and systems?

    The answer is force.

    Only violence, a quiet, stealthy, powerful, brutal force, can punish them.

    ''When the saint herself exposed the Indulgentia family''s corruption in the past, it didn''t even catch the tail of the Bourgeois family. It''s not like we can win with the usual methods.''

    Vikir thinks to himself.

    And Dolores''s expression was stiff with tension as she looked at Vikir''s back.

    "...Are you nning to assassinate key members of the Bourgeois family this time?"

    "Yes."

    For the first time, Vikir shared his assassination ns with others.

    The memory of being forced to move up a level with the power of buffs against Dantalian was too strong.

    ''In a time of crisis, it''s always helpful.''

    Although Dolores was still unable to voluntarily control her awakening, who knows?

    Then. Dolores opened her mouth with a look of concern.

    "They say that members of the Bourgeois family take unusually high efforts to avoid assassination. I imagine it''s quite difficult."

    Vikir nodded.

    A person with a lot to lose is bound to be fearful.

    Even in the world before Vikir''s regression, those in the Bourgeois spent vast sums of money on security to prevent assassinations.

    They hire private soldiers and mercenaries to guard their residences, trading posts, and shops.

    They traveled to work and back in secret, changing their routes each time and using multiple carriages for each trip.

    In addition, the high-ranking members of the Bourgeois families were trained in various military skills and magic from childhood, spending huge amounts of money on tutoring, so each one of them had a high level of skill.

    "Most of the members of the Bourgeois families live in luxurious mansions, and they have an incredibly tight security and guard system, and severalyers of private soldiers and mercenaries around them, so how is it possible to sneak in?"

    Dolores''s question was a reasonable one.

    But Vikir shook his head and gave a different answer.

    "If they''re hard to find, we can make theme to us."

    "What? How?"

    In response to the question Dolores expressed, Vikir stroked his chin once.

    Then he asked the question in reverse.

    "Assassins must be versatile. So what do you think are the virtues required of an assassin?"

    It was a difficult question to answer for Dolores, who had never been an assassin in her life.

    But she answered as best she could.

    "Hmm. I don''t know, murder, of course."

    "Also."

    "And... stamina. Agility. Discretion. Patience. Courage. Guts. And the judgment to make instant situational decisions. And the reticence to not spill information when caught?"

    "There is one more."

    Dolores shakes her head at Vikir''s words.

    Then Vikir added onest thing.

    "You have to make good money."

    ...?

    Dolores is stunned for a moment.

    But Vikir continued nonchntly.

    "Sometimes you need money and amission to get ess to a target. It''s one thing if you''re funded by the government, but if you''re not, or if something happens to your funder, you often have to raise the money privately."

    So a surprising requirement for an assassin is the ability to make money.

    The reality is different from the novels andics, as very few assassinations are apanied by generous military funding.

    Even more so when dealing with an unspecified number of people with high social status.

    Vikir said.

    "The reason you need to make good money is simple. This is because a ce to have lunch or dinner with a high-ranking member of the Bourgeois family is often put up for auction."

    "Really? You have to pay to have lunch?"

    "Yes, and a veryrge sum of money, money that the average office worker could never earn in a lifetime."

    By sharing a meal, the buyer can gain information about investments, connections, and the future.

    "For example, lunch with Demian, the second son of the Bourgeois family, costs a hundred kilograms of gold bars."

    "Glup!"

    Dolores swallowed hard.

    That''s enough money to build a few more temples in the slums!

    It was a shocking amount for a saint of the New Testament who was always short on funds.

    Vikir spoke as if tofort Dolores, who for some reason was shaken.

    "Don''t worry. I have a lot of money. So much so that the Bourgeois family contacted me first."

    "What? Really?"

    Dolores looked stunned and looked away.

    Without realizing it, she looked Night Hound up and down.

    Then, Dolores cautiously expressed her opinion.

    "But you look poor...."

    Dolores said this because she had seen Night Hound take all the money in his pockets and give it to the poor during a gue called the Red Death.

    Hearing Dolores'' words, Vikir paused for a moment, then changed his tune.

    "I must correct it, I have...."

    After a few moments of silence, Vikir said something quite nice.

    "I have a friend who has a lot of money."

 Chapter 269: Rich Friend (2)

    <h4>Chapter 269: Rich Friend (2)</h4>

    The next morning.

    Vikir received unexpected news from the professor he met in the hallway.

    "Student Vikir, this is a request for a visit."

    At the words, Vikir dropped his backpack.

    Unannounced meeting. This means that a request for an unscheduled visites unexpectedly.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir, who were all on their way to their first period sses, narrowed their eyes.

    Up until this point, Vikir had never talked about his family, where he belonged, his childhood, or anything else.

    "Vikir. Did you have anyonee to visit you?"

    "Of course Vikir has a family. Isn''t that a bit much, Tudor?"

    "Wow- you can skip first period, I''m jealous!"

    "Oh, that''s not unusual. For a kid who always sticks to a n, he gets all these unannounced visits."

    "Brother, who is it?"

    While everyone was saying a word, Sinir, who had a keen sense, narrowed his eyes and asked.

    "Could it be... that woman?"

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca''s heads turned at Sinir''s words.

    Vikir turned his head as if he didn''t know what she was talking about, and Sinir said suspiciously.

    "You know, the other day when I was drinking beer on the roof with my brother, there was someone who sent an owl to my brother back then, isn''t that your girlfriend?"

    Then the friends shouted loudly.

    "What, what! Do you have a girlfriend, Vikir?"

    "Maybe. With a face like Vikir''s, it would be weird if he didn''t have one."

    "Oh my God, you betrayed me, Vikir! I can''t believe you have a girlfriend outside of school! Is it another school?"

    "Hey~ you''re good. Maybe during this University League?"

    Then.

    "If you''re going to make a scene, don''t stand in the center of the hallway. You''re blocking the way."

    An extremely cold voice came from behind them.

    Professor Morg Banshee stared down at Vikir, Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir with an expression of almost disgust.

    "Vikir-kun, you must have your visitation slip signed by the professor with the start and end times of the visit. Otherwise, you will be marked absent, is that clear?"

    "Yes."

    "I''m telling you this just in case, because you''ll get a lot of demerits for your behavior. Let me remind you."

    With that, Professor Banshee stepped between Vikir and the others, pushing past them.

    " ...Insiders."

    With an expression of outright disgust.

    * * *

    Vikir pushed open the door to the visitation room and stepped inside.

    He saw a woman with ck hair and red eyes sitting cross-legged, smoking a cigar.

    "Long time no see~ my little brother~"

    She waved at Vikir and smiled brightly.

    Vikir squinted his eyes and asked in a small voice.

    "Since when did I have a sister?"

    Vikir''s gaze is cold and dry, but the woman doesn''t seem to mind.

    Messinadnaro Cindiwendy.

    She had changed the color of her eyes and the color of her hair toe here to the Academy herself.

    "This message has many important things to say, so I decided to be an owl myself. What do you think, little brother? ck hair and red eyes go well together, don''t you think? Oooooh~ my little brother~ I''ve missed you!"

    Cindiwendy, who hadn''t seen Vikir in a long time, was being overly friendly.

    She even pinched and pulled Vikir''s cheeks!

    "...Is it because you''re conscious of the professor outside the room?''

    Vikir furrowed his brow and joined in with Cindiwendy''s y.

    "It''s good to see you, big sister. Thank you foring to visit."

    "Thanks~ It''s only natural that I''ming to see my little brother~ Yoyo~ Look at how soft your cheeks have be while we haven''t seen each other~ Ugh~ It''s cute~"

    " ...don''t overdo it."

    "Okay."

    Cindiwendy stopped cupping Vikir''s cheeks and raised her hand to the top of the shaggy head.

    Vikir rubbed his reddened cheeks and asked.

    "How''s the trade deal going? Is everything going well?"

    As it is a business job, there is no conversation other than work..

    Cindiwendy nodded and answered.

    "The trade with the natives of Jungle is fine. It''s progressing well, and I''ve alreadypleted threerge deals."

    "Good, then...."

    As if she knew what Vikir was going to ask, Cindiwendy closed her eyes and shook her head.

    "I haven''t found any trace of them yet."

    "...It is."

    Bk. The tribe that had somehow disappeared.

    Vikir was puzzled that they had all suddenly lost contact.

    But there was no way he could leave the Academy and travel to the distant jungle right away.

    Vikir pulled out his next agenda item.

    " ... What else have I asked you to do?"

    "You mean sponsoring people from all over society? No problem, that''s all done or in progress."

    Vikir had asked Cindiwendy for something once before.

    It was to sponsor a group of statues of various people: artists, soldiers, mercenaries, high school students, small shopkeepers, and low-ranking soldiers.

    Cindiwendy scratched her head.

    "If they had children, we would provide them with free education, and if they needed jobs or skills, we would provide them with customized welfare. Some people''s livelihoods were in danger, and some people needed hospital expenses because they or their family members were ill. All of them got the support they needed."

    "Well done."

    "But what''s your connection to them? I did a little research on my own, and they don''t have any connection to you, not even a passing acquaintance."

    Cindiwendy''s questions were understandable.

    They had been allies and benefactors before Vikir''s regression.

    "...These are people I hope to never see again in the future."

    Vikir smiled bitterly.

    Cindiwendy could only watch in silence.

    And then.

    ...Thud!

    Cindiwendy pushed a bag in front of Vikir''s eyes.

    After opening it, Vikir nodded.

    The bag contained several cubed gold bars and a jewelry box.

    "These are the military funds you requested. I only put in enough weight to carry it, just like you said."

    "Thank you."

    "Cash it in at the designated ck market. But the best thing is to spend it in little by little."

    Vikir nodded and pushed the bag aside.

    Then Cindiwendy brought out the real reason for today''s visit.

    "The Head of the Bourgeois Family is a demon."

    Vikir had vaguely expected this.

    But hearing it from someone who had actually investigated it gave it a different weight.

    "I see, that''s enough."

    Cindiwendy frowned at Vikir''s words.

    "Against the great Bourgeois, that money is not enough, don''t you need more?"

    In the past, Cindiwendy had sworn an oath of loyalty to Vikir.

    ''No matter what you do in life, I will never let you run out of money.''

    So she wanted to fulfill that promise now.

    "Isn''t this what you raised me for?"

    Money is money. Cindiwendy was ready to help Vikir fight the Bourgeois Family.

    But.

    "This is enough for seed money."

    Vikir cut in.

    Cindiwendy''s eyes narrowed.

    "Because of the funding source?"

    Vikir nodded.

    Members of Bourgeois families often put a price on invitations to lunch or dinner.

    But that didn''t mean anyone with money could buy it.

    They wouldn''t ept money from unknown sources.

    It''s not just how much money you make, but how you make it.

    The Bourgeois families had their own strict criteria for who they could dine with.

    If someone offered them money they didn''t know where it came from, they wouldn''t ept it.

    "The route through which you earn money must be clear. And it has to be interesting enough to grab their attention."

    That''s why Vikir was refusing funding from Cindiwendy.

    "This is not the ce to use you. Wait a little longer."

    At Vikir''s words, Cindiwendy shrugged her shoulders.

    "What an unknown man."

    "...."

    "With all these rich sponsors, you never ask for money. It''s so refreshing, not like the other flirtatious guys."

    In response to her question, Vikir gave a short answer.

    "Money is just a means. Because it cannot be a goal."

    "... My father used to say that a lot when he was alive."

    "He was a good trader."

    Vikir nodded, though only briefly.

    The Bourgeois Family was a big mountain now, but there were still bigger ones behind it.

    It was not yet time to sheath the sword called Cindiwendy.

    Meanwhile. Cindiwendy was still puzzled.

    "So. How are you going to deal with the Bourgeois without my help?"

    "It''s not that I won''t get any help. But...."

    "But?"

    "You have to learn to catch fish rather than receive them."

    When Cindiwendy shook her head, Vikir lowered his stance and opened his mouth.

    "I have a n. But there are a lot of gaps, and I''d appreciate it if you could fill in the gaps with resources and information."

    "... So, you''re looking for financial advice?"

    Vikir nodded.

    And then.

    ...Bagg!

    A flyer was dropped in front of Cindiwendy''s eyes.

    The flow of the economy was created by humans and cannot be predicted by human power.

    However, the intuition of a very small number of geniuses is also in touch with huge trends.

    If you think you''re one of those few, this poster is for you.

    Thispetition is being heldin a ce called "Spine of the Economy".

    and will be the staircase that will lead you to the big stage of the financial world.

    Eligibility: All students of the Academy

    Submission period: until one week after the poster is distributed (��Posters will naturally expire after one week)

    Organized by: Bourgeois ��

    It''s a mock investment flyer hosted by the Bourgeois family.

    "With this money you gave me... I n to do it."

    Vikir talked about the investment strategy of the conversion that would attract the attention of the Bourgeois family.

    And.

    Cindiwendy''s expression quickly turned to disbelief.

    "...Crazy! That''s a scam!"

 Chapter 270: Rich Friend (3)

    <h4>Chapter 270: Rich Friend (3)</h4>

    The Headmaster''s office, on the edge of the Academy.

    Professor Morg Banshee stepped into the dimly lit room and had to gasp in surprise.

    In the darkness, a pair of zing yellow eyes were staring at him.

    "...Did you call me? Principal."

    Professor Banshee opened his mouth to speak with a trembling expression.

    Then a face emerged from the darkness.

    A middle-aged man with a vague look. It was a long-haired man who looked somewhat friendly with a young smile on his face.

    Winston Smith, the Principal of Colosseo Academy.

    Principal Winston said to Professor Banshee.

    "I''ve heard that you''ve done a good job of cleaning up some of the messes in this University League."

    "...No, There were many shorings."

    "Not at all. You''ve done an excellent job of filling in for me as principal, and I don''t know what to thank you for."

    At Principal Winston''s words, Professor Banshee coughed once and looked away.

    "You have returned to the Academy after a long absence. Have you aplished what you set out to do?"

    At Banshee''s question, Winston nodded with a faint smile.

    "During training, I had a mana surge and had a difficult time, but I made it through."

    "...That''s good to hear."

    Banshee nced away and looked at the hilt of a sword beside Winston''s hand.

    The Winter Sword ''Orwell'', Winston''s favorite weapon that looks like the horn of a unicorn. It is a legendary sword that only those who have attained the highest level of mastery are allowed to wield it.

    Winston was in the midst of a grooming session when it slipped out of its sheath.

    So the white lower part of the de, the ck middle part, and the reddish upper part were visible.

    Then.

    "...?"

    Banshee noticed something strange.

    There was arge scratch on the hilt of Orwell''s sword, a sword that was said to be able to break a thousand swords and not leave a scratch.

    It looked like an arrow mark or a snake slither.

    ''What in the world happened to that sword to cause it to be damaged?''

    As Banshee stared curiously at the sword, Winston spoke softly to him.

    "I heard that Professor Sady got into a lot of trouble while I was away on sabbatical?"

    "...more than I can say, which is why I''ve been putting together this report."

    Banshee reached out and mmed the mountain of papers onto the table.

    With a thud!

    A mountain of reports crashed onto the table.

    Winston broke out in a cold sweat as heughed in embarrassment.

    "...Haha, ha. This must have been a lot for Vice Principal Morg."

    "Sady is not fit to be a professor, and to be honest, she''s a criminal who should be locked up in the far-off ''Nouvelle Vague Prison'', not in a academy."

    "Don''t be so hard on her. Isn''t she thest descendant of the Marquises of Sade, who were so prestigious before the unification of the Empire?"

    "The previous Marquis of Sade, who was the patriarch of that house, is also currently imprisoned in Nouvelle Vague."

    "...."

    Winston sighed lightly.

    Why shouldn''t he know about Professor Sady, who''s been getting into trouble here and there.

    "Still, it''s best to keep her inside the Academy. We can''t send her back to the imperial court, and we can''t have the descendants of high-ranking nobles living in poverty."

    "We''ve got finals and parent-observed ssesing up, and the final ranking battle is going to be a huge event with all the parents in attendance, and if Professor Sady causes trouble again like she did during the midterms, we''re really going to be out of control."

    "Let''s just keep her out of the actual work as much as possible."

    " ...If that''s what the principal thinks."

    Banshee nodded.

    Well, it wasn''t Professor Sady that mattered now.

    Winston, the Principal of Colosseo, had returned from a short sabbatical.

    A legendary swordsman whose power is said to rival that of the Ironblood Swordsman, the Spearman, the Divine Archer, and the Mage Sect''s Lord.

    It''s an ufortable silence for Banshee who has his sights set on bing the next Principal.

    Moreover, since he is from the Cold Department, he is in many ways the opposite of Banshee, who was from the Hot Department.

    Final exams and parent-teacher conferences are the biggest events of the year.

    The political battle structure within the school between the principal faction and the vice principal faction was once again bing chaotic.

    * * *

    Ryukeion, the newspaper club at Colosseo Academy.

    Currently, the club room of Ryukeion was extremely busy.

    The mana circtor was running nonstop. Newspapers were stacked and distributed quickly.

    [Breaking News] Colosseo Academy''s Principal, Mr. Winston Smith, has returned!

    -Winston Smith, the principal of Colosseo Academy, who suddenly dered a sabbatical and was away, returned to schoolst night.

    There are many theories as to why the long-serving principal, who has been the spiritual leader of Colosseo''s Cold ss, suddenly dered a sabbatical and went into hiding, but the most likely exnation is that he was returning to his hometown to recover from a mana surge....

    Meanwhile, Principal Winston, who has returned, looks even more intimidating than before his sabbatical... It was assumed that he had ovee his mana surge and had risen to a higher level.

    "Did you hear, the principal is back!"

    "Oh good! I liked Professor Winston, he was gentle."

    "I really didn''t like Vice Principal Banshee because he was cranky and cold whenever he went to take payment."

    "It''s going to be a sunny day for us Cold students, because Professor Banshee only favored the Hot students."

    "From the perspective of the Hot ss, I didn''t like the favoritism."

    "He must be in a hurry to get back here for finals and parent-teacher conferences."

    The newspaper students chattered away about the morning''s issues as they took pictures for the evening edition.

    Meanwhile.

    Amidst all the hustle and bustle, there was one person who was unusually busy.

    Dolores. Student council president, newspaper editor, and captain of this year''s University League.

    As student council president, she had to organize an event to celebrate the principal''s return, and as editor-in-chief of the newspaper, she had to report on it.

    On top of that, the principal wanted to personally recognize the winner of the University League, so she had to prepare a winning speech for the awards ceremony and a pep talk for the juniors who would be participating in the University League next year.

    There was even a ceremony to award various ques and medals to the top 3rd graders who took the midterm exam....

    ''Ugh, I wish I had ten bodies!''

    Therefore, she waspleting all these tasks by working all night long.

    But despite the ongoing hard work, Dolores'' eyes glowed with life.

    She had one transcendent goal that transcended all of these menial tasks.

    ''I will eliminate the demon in the Bourgeois family and return the Bourgeois family and the Quovadis to normal.''

    It''s been a long time since she''s had a desire.

    Now it was time to make it a reality.

    When Dolores had finished her work, she found an empty lecture hall and went inside.

    She stared at the flyer for yesterday''spetition.

    ''...A mock investmentpetition organized by Bourgeois Family.

    Last night, Night Hound had given Dolores her instructions.

    ''I will start earning money now, and get the attention of the Bourgeois.''

    Night Hound had offered a sizable sum of seed money.

    The n was to roll this out and make a lot of money so that the Bourgeois could approach him.

    ''In the end, you didn''t tell me how you were going to raise the money, but....''

    However, Night Hound did ask Dolores for one thing.

    He asked Dolores to do one thing: find a handful ofpetent people to do office, administrative, and other secretarial work.

    Dolores happened to create a temporary club under the pretext of a mock investmentpetition hosted by the Bourgeois family.

    The club was created apparently to participate in apetition organized by the Bourgeois family.

    However, the money that is being funneled through it is all real money, and it will eventually be a sharp knife that will cut the throat of the demon lurking in Bourgeois Family.

    When Dolores was thinking about various things in her mind.

    Knock knock knock-

    The door to the empty ssroom opened and two students entered.

    Two applicants were selected after defeating numerouspetitors after a rigorous written test and interview.

    They were Piggy and Sinir.

    "Hey, guys."

    Dolores stood up from her seat.

    Piggy, who had demonstrated exceptional intelligence and analytical skills despite being a freshman, and Sinir, who was nearly wless in her administrative, office, and secretarial duties.

    "Ms. Chairwoman, just like you said, I''ve been gathering all the information on the Bourgeois family''s celebrities and theirtest happenings!"

    "I''ve been analyzing the schedule, organization, and structure of the mockpetition to perfection."

    Hearing their answers, Dolores felt reassured and smiled with pride.

    The information and skills Night Hound needed were now in ce.

    Dolores was careful to make sure that the Oracle looked like a group of honors students from Colosseo Academy.

    ''These children must never be caught in the act.''

    Soon, the battle with the demon would begin.

    Dolores even had a n to get Piggy and Sinir out before then.

    Then. Sinir asked.

    "Ms. Chairwoman. It''s a mock investment, so why do you need seed money?"

    "Well, actually, it''s just a mock investment, but we''re actually going to make an investment."

    "What?"

    Sinir''s eyes widened at the audacity of the idea.

    So did Piggy.

    Dolores spoke again.

    "Literally. We''re going to win the mock investmentpetition, and at the same time, we''re going to manage real money and make a huge profit. Of course, I''ll take full responsibility for any damage that might be caused."

    "I-Is there a reason you''re doing that?"

    "First, because I''m sure of it. Second, to leave a strong impression."

    Sinir and Piggy exchanged nces at the certainty in Dolores'' voice.

    If Dolores, the student council president, saying this, there was no reason not to do it.

    In any case, the seed money is Dolores''s own money, and even if she loses it, Dolores takes responsibility.

    Besides, isn''t she a genius who stands out in all fields?

    "I can''t believe the chairwoman is saying this! I''ll contribute a small amount of seed money!"

    "Me too! I''m entering thepetition with the intention of winning in the first ce, so I''ll show you what I''m made of! I''ll give you every penny I''ve got!"

    In any case, Piggy and Sinir realized that they couldn''t do well in thepetition on their own.

    With Dolores on board, they were going to give it their all.

    "...you guys."

    Dolores looked at Piggy and Sinir, impressed.

    Then.

    Sinir looked back at Piggy as if she''d just remembered something.

    It made Dolores'' eyes widen.

    "...Really! Should I ask my brother to join us? I''m sure he''d be a great help!"

    It was a statement that was somewhat concerning.

 Chapter 271: Money War (1)

    <h4>Chapter 271: Money War (1)</h4>

    Sinir said, as if she''d just remembered something.

    "Really. Should I ask my brother to join us?"

    An exmation point appeared above Dolores'' head.

    There was only one person in the entire Academy that Sinir called brother.

    Vikir.

    Dolores tried to picture Vikir''s face in her mind.

    The first thing that came to mind was the image of bangs, sses, and an expressionless face.

    Attitude, behavior, and way of speaking that seem to have no interest in everything going on in the world. However, Dolores has experienced many twists and turns in her rtionship with Vikir.

    From volunteering at a orphanage, to festivals, to University Leagues....

    In the end, Dolores'' ears turned red as she remembered the ident(?) that had urred at a drinking party.

    She ducked her head and buried her face in her papers for a moment, and when she finally regained herposure, she asked.

    " ... Is he interested in something like this?"

    At Dolores'' question, Sinir brightened.

    "Yep. Vikir is very good at this kind of thing, too. He reads all the newspapers all the time, so he knows what''s going on in society, andtely he''s been very interested in economics, like trade with the natives in the west, and he''s been reading all the old economic papers, too, and he''s very keen!"

    "Yes, there''s nothing he can''t do, and I''m sure he''ll be a great help to you, in fact, he''s the kind of fellow who gives you mental strength just by being around him."

    Piggy nodded, agreeing with Sinir.

    Dolores thought for a moment, then nodded.

    A man of Vikir''s character and skill could be trusted without being tested.

    "Then, if you see Vikirter, will you tell him that I want him to join our temporary club?"

    "Yes!"

    Sinir and Piggy nodded.

    "Hees to the library a lot, so I''ll tell him if I see him when I''m the librarian."

    "Okay, okay. Or, since I''m in the same room as Vikir, I can tell himter in the evening. It''s hard to see Vikir''s face at school these days."

    "Oh, that''s right~ Brother, I don''t know where you are around these days. Piggy, you''re in the same room. Do you know anything?"

    "No. These days, I also sign up forte-night self-study, so I often go to my roomte. I almost passed out and fell asleep when I went in, so I couldn''t pay much attention."

    The two chat about Vikir''stest news.

    Dolores leaves them and gets up from her chair for a moment.

    "Guys, I''m going to go get some stuff. I forgot something at the student council."

    "Okay! Bye!"

    Sinir and Piggy replied energetically.

    Dolores walked out of the ssroom and down the hall.

    She had been walking for a while, making ns in her head.

    "What?"

    Dolores spotted a familiar face in the lobby of the main building on the ground floor, near the soda machines.

    Vikir. A face that was hard to see these days.

    He was walking with a stack of letters and packages in his arms that looked like he had just picked them up from the post office.

    "...Vikir?"

    Dolores called out, and Vikir turned around.

    He was holding so many letters and boxes that he could barely turn his head.

    Dolores asked cautiously.

    "Hmm. Do you need help with that? It looks heavy."

    "It''s okay. It''s lighter than it looks."

    "...If you say so."

    Coincidentally, Vikir and Dolores were headed in the same direction.

    They walked down the hallway for a few minutes without speaking to each other.

    "...."

    "...."

    Strangely enough, there was no one in the hallway this time.

    When the awkward silence became a little ufortable, Dolores spoke up.

    "Lots of letters and packages, did you order anything?"

    "Not really."

    "Then what''s all this ...?"

    "I don''t know. They''re from another school, and the post office told me to pick them up."

    Vikir was also clueless about the identity of the letters and boxes.

    "Can I take a look?"

    "Sure."

    Dolores asked Vikir''s permission and looked through the letters and boxes.

    "Perfume, skin lotion, shoes, belts, hats, sunsses, shirts, bags, fountain pens, ties, wallets, sneakers, hairpins... Oh my God. There''s even an artifact I used to hang as a prize in in the university league. And what''s this, a carriage key?"

    On the outside of the delivery box, there were various stickers indicating the contents.

    And most of them had the same sender.

    99% of the letters and packagese from the Themiscyra Women''s University.

    (The remaining 1% came from Varangian.)

    "...It''s a huge gift barrage. You''re so popr?"

    "It''s just a pain in the ass."

    Dolores thought she was a little unlucky, but in reality, Vikir seemed quite at a loss as to what to do with them.

    "A handsome man must be tired."

    Dolores said in passing, not really giving it much thought.

    She was really just saying what was on her mind.

    Then.

    Vikir replied.

    "I''m not handsome, I''m just unusual around people."

    In some ways, this was a natural answer for Vikir, who had lived his entire life with a face covered in scars before his regression.

    But Dolores, who had no way of knowing, was dumbfounded.

    "...hat kind of face do you have when you say that? At that point, even humility is a deception."

    "It''s just embarrassing to hear such words from my senior."

    Vikir replied in a hard voice once again.

    Hearing that, Dolores paused for a moment.

    ''What is this...?''

    Vikir''s words were clearly meant topliment the other person''s appearance.

    Suddenly, Dolores remembered what had happened at the festival not long ago.

    "Oh, yeah. I noticed a pretty girl in the tent at the bar, and she was staring at you. What''s your rtionship?''

    ''Are you referring to Student Council President Dolores?''

    Vikir was obviously asked about the "pretty girl" and without hesitation, he said Dolores.

    A moment.

    ...Huh!

    Her earlobes red red.

    Is that why? Dolores changed the subject in an unusually urgent tone.

    "By the way, Vikir, would you be interested in participating in a mock investment?"

    Earlier, Piggy and Sinir had said they would ask, but now that Vikir was here, it seemed like a good time to ask.

    Vikir thought for a moment, then asked.

    " ...You mean thispetition?"

    "Yeah. I''m going to participate. I even created a temporary club. Of course, I''m not the only one, Piggy and Sinir are in it, too, if you''re interested...."

    But Vikir shook his head.

    "I don''t have time for any clubs, except maybe the newspaper."

    Dolores felt a little disappointed.

    After all, she had been secretly hoping that Vikir would join them.

    But there was no reason to feel bad. It was his choice to join the club in the first ce.

    She was just grateful that Vikir was working so hard on the newspaper even though he was so busy.

    ''Yeah. I have Night Hound.''

    Dolores waved to Vikir with some regret.

    "I''m going this way from here."

    "Then."

    At the crossroads, Dolores turned to face Vikir.

    Vikir gave Dolores a small bow, then turned toward the dormitories.

    Then.

    "Senior."

    Vikir suddenly called out to Dolores as she turned around.

    She turned around with a puzzled look on her face and saw Vikir looking her way.

    Then, Vikir''s mouth opened.

    "...Good luck."

    A sudden cheer.

    Vikir''s mouth curves into a thin smile, and Dolores'' eyes widen.

    "Eh? Eh. Yeah, thanks. You too."

    Dolores raises her fists in embarrassment.

    The ears exposed through the hair were a little redder than before.

    * * *

    About three weeks have passed since then.

    Dolores, Piggy, and Sinir were sitting in an empty lecture hall, seated in a circle facing the center of the table.

    "...oh my god."

    They all stared at it with nk expressions.

    It was a huge stack of money and gold coins.

    In less than three weeks, the Oracle Investment Club had made a fortune.

    Unconditional first ce. They didn''t even need to look at thepetition results.

    "Y-You''re amazing, Ms. Chairwoman, I''ve never seen money like this before!"

    "How can you be so resourceful... I couldn''t even imagine!"

    Piggy and Sinir looked back at Dolores in awe.

    However, Dolores, who was actually leading the Oracle, also had a dazed look on her face, as if she didn''t believe it was real.

    ''I was only doing what Night Hound said....''

    Dolores recalled the past not long ago.

    At the very beginning, Night Hound had given Dolores an order.

    ''Among the people who have made a name for themselves in the financial world, try to pick out about 10,000 people who have thin ears.''

    ''And ...?''

    ''Send a letter to 5,000 people, half of them, stating that ''OO stock'' will rise tomorrow. And send a letter to the remaining 5,000 people stating that ''OO stock'' will fall tomorrow.''

    Dolores worked quickly.

    Compiling a list of people and sending letters to them all was abor-intensive and expensive task.

    Piggy, who had a knack for gathering and analyzing information,piled the list of financial figures, and Sinir, who had a knack for secretarial and office work, took on the task of sending a total of 10,000 letters.

    ...And indeed, the next day, the "OO stock" went up in value.

    Then Night Hound immediately gave his next order.

    "Take the 5000 people who sent you a prediction yesterday that the price of stock ''OO stock'' will rise, divide them in two, and send 2500 people a letter saying that the price of stock ''XX stock'' will rise tomorrow, and send the other 2500 people a letter saying that stock ''XX stock'' will fall tomorrow.

    The next day, "XX stock" is down in value.

    This time, Night Hound gave simr instructions.

    ''Divide the 2500 people who sent you a prediction yesterday that the price of ''XX stock'' would fall, and send 1250 people a letter saying that the price of ''YY stock'' will rise tomorrow, and send the other 1250 people a letter saying that ''YY stock'' will fall tomorrow.''

    The next day, it was the same story: Stock YY went up in value.

    Night Hound gave the same instructions.

    ''Divide the 1250 people who sent you a prediction yesterday that ''YY stock'' will rise in value, and send 625 people a prediction that ''LL stock will'' rise in value tomorrow, and send the other 625 people a prediction that ''LL stock'' will fall in value tomorrow.''

    And so on and so forth.

    Since stocks are either down or up, the Oracle Investment Club''s predictions continued to be half right.

    After a week or so, the number of people to whom stock predictions were sent was down to about thirty.

    And around that time, the Oracle Investment Club began receiving a huge number of people visiting.

    "Hey, we''re here! Is this Oracle?"

    "You''ve been predicting the stock price for seven days straight!"

    "It''s a prestigious Academy, so it must be different!"

    "This is where all the tweezers stock geniuses are!"

    "Please, please, let me have my money!"

    "I''ve sold my house and everything, I really want to invest!"

    .

    .

    Since the stock price has been correct for a week in a row, it''s hard not to believe.

    By the end of the week, thest people to receive the letter were already fanatical believers in Oracle.

    It had even gone viral, and the number of people gathering was growing.

    When the investment prediction letter first arrived, those who received the wrong letter quickly forgot the name Oracle, and those who guessed correctly became interested.

    The investors gathered in this way were unaware that they were selected by probability.

    At that point, Night Hound threw up their game.

    ''Tell them you''ll double their money and take the investment money.''

    Dolores did just that.

    Night Hound took the money and invested it in a tradingpany run by a trader named Cindiwendy.

    Thepany traded with the natives of the western jungles, an area where people rarely invested because the risks were as great as the rewards.

    and Night Hound was spectacrly sessful.

    Cindiwendy had seeded in trading in the tertiary sector and was paying out huge dividends to its investors.

    ''I told you, I have a friend with a lot of money.''

    At the Night Hound''s words, Dolores could only open her mouth in disbelief.

    At best, she thought, he''d get or borrow money from a rich friend.

    This was far beyond her imagination.

    Piggy and Sinir marveled at the pile of wealth.

    "I didn''t know you were so keen on investing! If this gets out, it will probably change themercialws of the empire, hahaha!"

    "Indeed. At this rate, the Bourgeois Family will have no choice but to show interest."

    It''s not just how much money you make, but how you make it.

    The students at the academy were pooling their pocket money and using clever (and slightly fraudulent) methods to attract huge amounts of investment, which they then re-invested for huge profits.

    The results were shocking, and there was nothing suspicious about the process.

    What brilliant creativity, and sparkling talent!

    Who wouldn''t want to meet these young investment geniuses?

    No wonder the Bourgeois is drooling over them.

    "...."

    Dolores smiled faintly at the overjoyed Piggy and Sinir.

    ''Don''t ask questions as a trick (?), recruit fanatics and then use insider information to fight. This isn''t something you''ve done once or twice....''

    It is still too early to be happy or surprised.

    The n was only just entering its halfway stage.

    Operational forces.

    A sword aimed at the Bourgeois family, the kings of the business world.

    ''... I wonder what he''s doing.''

    Dolores began to be more and more curious about the identity of Night Hound.

 Chapter 272: Money War (2)

    <h4>Chapter 272: Money War (2)</h4>

    Late at night, when the excitement about earning a huge amount of money was slowly cooling down.

    The night dew that hade out to greet the dawn hung heavily on the tips of the grass leaves.

    Creak-

    Dolores opened the door to the rooftop after a cautious nce around.

    The rooftop of the girls'' dormitory was off-limits to students, so it was a cautious move.

    She had just stepped through the door and onto the roof.

    "....Hello"

    A voice like scraping metal greeted her.

    The Night Hound. He stood at the edge of the railing.

    He stood at a height that was dizzying to look at, rxed, as if he''d been there for a while.

    "I''m sorry, I''m a littlete, I was trying to avoid the housemaster. You''ve been waiting a long time, haven''t you?"

    "Not really."

    Dolores stared at Night Hound''s cloak.

    Judging by theck of night dew, it hadn''t been long since he''d arrived.

    "Did you get lost when you came? It must have been hard to find the girls'' dormitory, with so many simr buildings around."

    "It wasn''t that hard."

    Night Hound answered Dolores''s question nonchntly.

    For a moment, Dolores''s eyebrows twitched.

    ''The dormitory buildings all look alike and don''t have any identifying markers, so it''s hard for a neer to tell the difference. Are you from the academy, Mr. Night Hound?''

    If someone could find this hard-to-find ce in such a short time without getting confused, they must be familiar with the internal geography.

    Suddenly, Dolores remembered an incident that had happened not long ago.

    The mysterious female ck mage who hade into the academy during the festival, leading a group of undead soldiers.

    She had said something strange.

    ''Where did you take Night Hound? I found traces of Night Hound in your room.''

    At the time, Dolores let the words slide.

    Dolores, who values her privacy, doesn''t allow anyone to enter her space.

    She even fixes her own furniture when it breaks.

    ''Now that I think about it, why did she say that?''

    Dolores wonders about their rtionship, but she''s more concerned about the fact that Night Hound had been in her room.

    At that time.

    Rattling-

    Something rattles in Dolores''s arms as she takes a step forward.

    It was the Mirror of Truth.

    It''s an artifact that shows the bare face behind the mask of the person it reflects, and it was the prize for winning first ce in the University League.

    ''... Shall I use this mirror to look at Night Hound?''

    Dolores thought for a moment.

    But then she squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head.

    ''I brought it up just in case, but no.''

    She didn''t want to learn his identity this way.

    ''Let''s wait until Night Hound speaks first. It would be impolite.''

    Dolores closed her eyes tightly, lost in her own anguish.

    "?"

    Vikir aka Night Hound was staring at Dolores curiously.

    Finally, Dolores opened her eyes, took a deep breath, and spoke.

    "I did everything you asked me to do."

    Dolores told Vikir everything that had happened.

    The ten thousand people Piggy had known in finance. The letters Sinir had written, each one predicting the future.

    Sometimes it was the price of gold, sometimes it was grains like soybeans and wheat, sometimes it was futures options on minerals like bronze or orichalcon, sometimes it was real estate or bonds.

    The oue was always either wrong or right, but the 30 or so investors who won that 50% chance in a row fell for the bait thrown by Night Hound.

    Night Hound even made a fortune on hisst investment, a merchant guild led by a dangerous figure named Cindiwendy.

    "You''re really good at investing, I didn''t know that."

    Dolores seems genuinely impressed.

    Of course, Vikir didn''t care much.

    "It was a trick that Cindiwendy used a few years in the future.

    Vikir just had to apply it a little sooner.

    "Now all that remains is to gather the members of the Bourgeois Family."

    It''s clean money, so there''s nothing wrong with that.

    It was a bit of a scam, but there''s no problem with the currentw anyway.

    "And tell your friends thank you for their help."

    "Yeah. I will, but make sure they don''t get caught up in a fight with the demon...."

    Dolores looked worried about Piggy and Sinir.

    Of course, that had been on Vikir''s mind as well.

    "We''ll just have to make sure they''re in a safe ce when the timees."

    With that, Vikir ced a vial in Dolores''s hand.

    It was a sleeping pill.

    Dolores looked nervous.

    Vikir opened his mouth.

    "Now we have thest step before the final battle."

    "When you say final, do you mean...?"

    "We will bring in an insider."

    Vikir''s words made sense.

    The Bourgeois family was shrouded in secrecy. They are untouchable unless an insider provides information.

    "We need to find a Bourgeois who''s on the inside, and who''s at enmity with the current family."

    "Do you think there is such a person?"

    "Of course. I''ve already researched them."

    The Bourgeois family lord.

    It wasn''t hard to find someone in high ces who was at odds with him.

    "You can find out by looking at newspaper articles. You can find the answer by looking through old economic newspapers."

    For a moment, Dolores paused.

    ...old economic newspapers?

    ''...Also, he reads all the economic newspapers from a very long time ago, and his enthusiasm is really great....''

    Dolores must have heard that somewhere in the back of her mind.

    ''When was that?''

    Dolores must have heard it recently, but she couldn''t remember when or who.

    When Dolores was feeling d��j�� vu, Vikir thrust several newspaper articles in front of her.

    They were clippings of economic news from a very long time ago.

    [Economy] Who will be the lord of the Bourgeois family?

    -A bitter dispute is brewing over the position of lord of the Bourgeois family...

    The most likely candidates are the eldest son, Bartholomew, and the second son, Damien......

    [Economy] Deputy Director Bartholomew bes the target of a strong tax investigation!

    -On October 0, Bartholomew, the eldest son of the Bourgeois family and Deputy Director of the Mineral Futures Exchange, is responding to a sudden tax investigation...

    Meanwhile, the Imperial Tax Investigation Team uses Deputy Director Bartholomew of treachery, embezzlement, and tax evasion, with instructions to make such unannounced raids more frequent. ...

    [Economy] Deputy Director Damianughs at his daughter''s antics at her first birthday party

    -On October 0, Damian, the second son of a Bourgeois family and Deputy Director of the Money Manufacturing Bureau, shes his dad''s smile at his daughter''s birthday party...

    [Economy] Deputy Director Bartolomeo, volunteering briquettes even in the bitter cold, ''I convey my heart''!

    -On December X, Bartholomew, the eldest son of a Bourgeois family and Deputy Director of the Mineral Futures Exchange, went out of his way to help the less fortunate during the holiday season...

    Despite the cold temperatures below freezing, he was sweating profusely as he delivered briquettes to the elderly living alone, showing his down-to-earth civic-mindedness...

    [Economy] Deputy Director Damian, controversy over abuse of power

    -On May X, Damian, the second son of the Bourgeois family and Deputy Director of the Money Manufacturing Bureau, was involved in a ''gambling'' and became a hot topic...

    At his daughter''s pic, he insulted an attendant who was providing security, telling him to ''do his job'' and causing mental damage...

    If you look through the articles from a long time ago, right before the head of the Bourgeois family was decided, you can see who the rival of the current head of the bourgeois family, ''Bartholomew'', was.

    Whenever there was a newspaper article using Bartholomew of a negative image, there was a newspaper article promoting a positive image.

    Conversely, when a newspaper article was published promoting a positive image of Bartholomew, a negative image was published.

    Thus, it became clear who the Bourgeois''s enemy was.

    [Economy] Bloody shareholders'' meeting, who is the winner!?

    -On the D day of the month D, the head of the Bourgeois family was decided.

    The eldest son, Bartholomew, was elected as the next family head...

    The new head of the family promises to revitalize the family and announces a number of personnel changes...

    The personnel changes are as follows

    00 Department Head of the Administration Department 000 is transferred inside the family...

    XX Director of an administrative department XXX transferred outside the family...

    DD Director of the Management Department will go on a long-term regional trip...

    Deputy Director of the Money Manufacturing Bureau, second son ''Damien'' promoted to Director.

    The younger brother who lost in Game of Thrones.

    As a result, he waspletely cut off from his family and taken as a hostage to the imperial family.

    Bourgeois Ju Damien.

    Once an aspirant to the throne. A former rival. A secret antagonist.

    Vikir was paying attention to this ''silver medalist''.

    "Bourgeois Je Damien. Count of the Bourgeois family and current Director of the Imperial Money Manufacture. At the same time as he is eating away at the imperial family, he is also an advisory member and external director of several top branches run by the Bourgeois. However, since he is half-imperial, he cannot interfere in the internal affairs of the family."

    His promotion from Deputy Director to Director was likely the result of losing a political battle.

    Originally, it was customary for talented members of the Bourgeois family to rise only to the second-inmand position in the imperial institution, learn only the know-how, then resign and return to their home family to take on important positions.

    However, the abandoned dogs of the family have no one to call upon, so are left to sit at the imperial pce.

    By bing a hostage to the imperial family.

    "...This is Damien. I know a little bit about him."

    Dolores flipped through the newspaper articles.

    In her University League days, she had been on a quest for the Bourgeois in the second round.

    Bourgeois / Difficulty [�����]

    The Money Manufacturing Bureau has recently issued higher denomination bills, which have been gued by a growing number of counterfeit bills.

    From the perspective of the Bourgeois family, choose a product that would benefit from the mary reform and suggest a new product or an improvement to an existing product.

    Four stars for difficulty. This was a tough assignment.

    Count Bourgeois Damien, the head of the Imperial Money Manufacturing Bureau, had personally asked, Dolores had some acquaintance with him.

    Vikir nodded and said.

    "Now that we''ve made our pitch, it''s time to meet Damien."

    "How? He doesn''t seem to be selling meal tickets."

    Dolores asked with a puzzled look, and Vikir answered simply.

    "Let''s throw a party."

    Dolores''s eyes widened as she looked at Vikir''s party quote.

    "Huh! This is the budget for a party? Did I get the number of zeros wrong?"

    The cost was so enormous that even the Saintess of Quovadis, one of the Seven Great Families, was shocked.

    Vikir nned to spend the astronomical sum of money from this investment in a single party.

    "I''m going to make it sovish and extravagant. So extravagant that all the celebrities in the capital are rolling their eyes."

    Literally, money is just a means and not the goal.

 Chapter 273: Money War (3)

    <h4>Chapter 273: Money War (3)</h4>

    A fresh rumor was making waves in the business world.

    "Did you hear? Colosseo Academy has a bunch of young geniuses."

    "You mean the ones who did so well in the recent mock investmentpetition?"

    "The crazy thing is, they weren''t ''mocking,'' they were ying with real money."

    "Huh? Those ridiculous rates of return mean were real?"

    "Why, of course. That''s probably why everyone epted the invitation today."

    Oracle. An investment club that earns ridiculous real-world profits in mock investmentpetitions held by the Bourgeois Family.

    Not much is known about their identity.

    However, it is known that they are students at the prestigious Colosseo Academy, and their identities are certain.

    As such, many in the financial world were curious about the "party invitation" from Oracle.

    It wasmon knowledge that thergest and most ornate hall in the Imperial Capital had changed hands.

    The new owner had paid all cash for the building and left a huge 10% tip.

    Furthermore, the rumor that the new owner immediately started renovating the exterior and interior of the big, fancy hall as soon as he bought it also freaked people out.

    What''s the point of building an extension on such a huge and gorgeous hall?

    Therefore, not only the general public but also some of the most prominent figures in the business world were paying attention to Oracle''s actions.

    And then.

    Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding.

    May Xth. Time for the nine bells of the public square clock.

    It was the date and time written on the invitation sent from Oracle.

    The wealthy from all over the Capital, or provinces, gathered at the party hall in response to the Oracle''s invitation.

    A hundred people at most, but more than three thousand with their attendants.

    Then.

    "What? Who''s that?"

    "Oh my. I can''t believe he epted the invitation."

    "This is the first time I''ve seen him in person."

    "Someone big is at the party."

    The old gentlemen anddies of the business world stepped aside.

    A carriage drove majestically through the center of the hall.

    The family crest was a white triangle on a ck background.

    This was the mark of the ''Sinan'' family, which was famous for being wealthy in the north.

    And in the carriage was a person who caught the attention of business figures.

    Viscount Sinan Saltsail, also known as the Salt Merchant.

    He was the leader of the Sinan family, one of Don Quixote''s maternal families.

    Saltsail is a famous nobleman and a wealthy merchant who is considered one of the most important merchants in the North.

    His wealth, umted by transporting 60,000 tons of salt across the empire, is almost unrivaled in the north.

    "Hehehe �C yes. Let''s see what kind of extravagant party you''ve brought people all the way to the imperial capital."

    Saltsail stroked his mustache and looked out of the carriage.

    Then.

    "...!"

    Saltsail''s carriage stopped.

    A strange figure stood in front of him, blocking his path.

    A body that still looked like a boy. His face was covered with a cute cat mask.

    On his feet, he wore long boots, giving the impression that he had stepped out of a fairy tale.

    Saltsail asked.

    "Who are you and why are you blocking the way?"

    The boy in the cat mask answered.

    "My name is Cat in Boots. I am your guide to the party of the day."

    His voice was dry and emotionless, but his pronunciation was clear and understandable.

    After proving his identity with the invitation in his possession, Cat in Boots climbed into Viscount Saltsail''s carriage and sat down beside him.

    "Now, we have about 23 kilometers to go to the party."

    Saltsail could only frown at Cat in Boots'' words.

    Then.

    "...hmm?"

    Viscount Saltsail''s eyes widened slightly.

    He could see something bluish on the center road in front of him.

    "What is that?"

    Viscount Saltsail pulled his head out to look ahead.

    Only then did he see what was in front of him.

    It was a blue cloth. Arge curtain had been drawn around it, covering the inside.

    Cat in Boots said.

    "My master has put a great effort into tonight''s party. He said that the gathering of precious people could not be revealed to the outside world, so he purchased specially good silk cloth and pitched a tent around the hall."

    Now Viscount Saltsail''s carriage was passing by the side of that curtain.

    The silken curtain looks like a blue night on the ground.

    Saltsail, who has a keen eye for luxury, immediately recognizes the material.

    "Is it blue silk lined with the highest quality purple silk? Hmm, you have a good eye. I have one of those around the house, and it''s 16 kilometers long."

    As Saltsail spoke in a proud tone, Cat in Boots next to him quietly said something.

    "My master has circled 21 kilometers this time."

    "What?"

    Saltsail looked back at Cat in Boots as if his pride had been hurt.

    But Cat in Boots was just Cat in Boots, and there was no other reaction.

    Soon, Viscount Saltsail''s carriage arrived at the party hall.

    A curtain had been drawn over the entrance to the hall, so it was hard to see the outside of the building.

    He could only guess that it was a fairly tall pce-style building.

    "Before you enter, I''ll give you a brief instruction."

    Cat in Boots exined the ''dress code'' for today''s party.

    Today''s theme was Red capes.

    However, Saltsail tilted his head as if this was his first time hearing that there was a dress code.

    "I don''t think I''ve ever heard of a dress code before."

    "Oh, no. There must have been a mimunication, but don''t worry, I have a cape for you."

    Saltsail''s eyes narrowed as he saw the red cape handed to him by the Cat in Boots.

    "Hmph? This is Asbestos cloth, the finest cotton cloth that has been in vogue since the Warring States Period, and it''s embroidered with the teeth and ws of the vicious beasts of the western jungles. This must be a very valuable garment."

    "You must be an expert in fabrics and fabrication."

    "Of course, I have two sets of clothes like this myself."

    Saltsail was at first inclined to give in to the offer of a cheap cape.

    However, in his opinion, the cape offered was very valuable, so he was quite satisfied.

    The cape was also lightly enchanted, so there was no reason not to take it, as it would keep food and alcohol off of him and keep him warm.

    "Would you like to have a cocktail on the way to the party?"

    Cat in Boots politely held out a ss.

    Red liquor and clear ice cubes floated in the clear ss.

    Saltsail took the ss and grunted.

    "I don''t know much about alcohol. This stuff just makes me want to pee."

    "Is that so?"

    Cat in Boots nodded toward Saltsail, who wasining but was still thirsty as he poured down his cocktail.

    Then.

    They passed through a dark hallway into a bright, spacious room.

    Saltsail''s eyes widened slightly.

    "Oh, this is...."

    An ornate interior greeted SaltSail.

    The floors were marble from southern Jasmunhald, and the ceiling was hung with a chandelier of canned rubies from the Western Red Fang Castle.

    The walls were painted with red stone pigment, one of the rarest and scarcest of the rare minerals, and for some reason there was a golden sink in the center.

    There are also statues carved from expensive coral, and duck down rugs on the floor.

    The walls were lined with purple silk curtains and dotted with well-dressed maids holding bottles of perfume.

    Even Saltail, who didn''t even snort at the luxury and pleasure, nodded in approval.

    "...That''s nice."

    Saltsail nced back at Cat in Boots standing in the distance.

    "Beautiful main building. Someone in the Imperial Capital has some taste. It rivals the main building of my mansion."

    Saltsail nodded with a satisfied expression, as if he had found a good match for his wealth and luxury.

    ... but.

    "What do you mean?"

    Despite Saltsail''s praise, Cat in Boots could only shake his head.

    Then Saltsail also tilted his head.

    "What I mean is, I said the main building was nicely decorated... Hmm?"

    Something wasn''t right.

    Instead of talking, Saltsail looked around.

    Sure enough, all the guests who hade with him when he entered had disappeared, leaving him alone.

    Except for Cat in Boots and the maids with the perfume bottles, he was the only one here.

    Saltsail said.

    "No, where are all the people at the party, and why is the main hall so empty? I don''t think they''ve all gone to the bathroom."

    Cat in Boots opened his mouth as if to say, What are you talking about?

    "Of course, all the other guests are in the main building."

    "...What?"

    Saltsail''s expression turned puzzled.

    If the main building is somewhere else, then what is this ce?

    To Saltsail''s puzzled look, Cat in Boots told him the truth.

    "This is the restroom, not the main building."

 Chapter 274: Money War (4)

    <h4>Chapter 274: Money War (4)</h4>

    "This is the restroom, not the main building."

    Viscount Saltsail''s expression turned nk at Cat in Boots'' words.

    "...You''ve got to be kidding, right?"

    "No way."

    Cat in Boots raised a hand and pointed to the wall.

    Suddenly, it made sense. Why there was a sink sticking out of the wall.

    There was even a toilet just off to the side.

    "You said earlier that you wanted to go to the restroom, so I led you here first."

    "Well, that was just ament."

    "I see, then shall we go to the main building?"

    Cat in Boots gestured to the maids in a dignified manner.

    "The guest has been to the restroom, so bring him some fresh clothes and spray him with perfume."

    "Eh, eh, I don''t think that''s necessary...."

    "No, we''re just doing our best, just in case you think you''re unclean just because you went in and out of the restroom. Don''t worry about it."

    Then the maids came over and exchanged Viscount Saltsail''s cape for another.

    "We have several designs. You can choose the one you like best."

    Saltail''s jaw dropped at Cat in Boots'' words.

    There were more than fifty Asbestos Capes, of which he had only two.

    ''They''re the ultimate luxury, made from raw materials found deep in the western jungle, so even if you have the money, you can''t get them....''

    Then.

    Rattling-

    The cocktail ss the maid was holding next to him made a sound. It was the sound of ice clinking together.

    ''Eh, eh, eh,e to think of it...?''

    Saltsail nced at the cocktail ss he''d just half-finished and handed to the maid to hold.

    Being an observant man, he soon realized that the ice cubes in the drink hadn''t melted at all.

    "Hey, that''s not ice!"

    To Saltsail''s exmation of surprise, Cat in Boots spoke in a nonchnt tone.

    "That''s right, it''s not ice, it''s a diamond. I keep them in a cold storage room so it doesn''t lose its cool, and of course, it won''t melt and make your drink nd."

    Saltsail''s mouth dropped open at that.

    Cat in Boots then led him into the main building.

    There, indeed, a spacious, grand, and luxurious interior, far beyond anything he had ever seen before, awaited him and all the guests.

    The center of the Imperial Capital. The pinnacle of luxury.

    Gorgeous lighting enveloped everyone.

    The jewel lights of the chandeliers falling all over the ce made everyone''s eyes intoxicated.

    The gaps between the ceiling and walls were filled with spider webs, sprinkled liberally with gold dust, which glittered with every change of light.

    The chambein-level servants who were busying and going were all wearing expensive asbestos capes over their uniforms, and theirs were ck, different from those of the guests.

    Viscount Saltsail eximed.

    " ...What in the world is this interior, how can it possibly be this splendid?"

    A truly avant-garde interior, far ahead of its time.

    Even if you had the money, you couldn''t afford it because you didn''t know what it was.

    The ceiling is high enough to set off firecrackers, and the spiral staircases connecting duplexes and duplexes stretch endlessly.

    Rare and expensive ingredients of incalcble value are everywhere.

    More than a hundred and fifty chefs were lined up in a circle, creating food for the guests in real time.

    Elegant music from a triple keyboard. Musical instruments made of jade, pearl, and sapphire create glorious harmonies.

    There were no words of moderation, frugality, or morality.

    "Oooh, this is gorgeous!"

    "I can''t believe they thought to build something like this inside a party hall."

    "I want to go in there too!"

    "I wonder what I''ve been doing with all my money."

    "Kah! Yes, this is how money is supposed to be spent!"

    There was even a pool inside the party room that was big enough to fit everyone.

    What was in the pool wasn''t water, but a cherry-colored, low-alcohol fruit liquor, a mysterious drink that wouldn''t leave a sticky residue when it got on the skin and evaporated.

    Perhaps because of its size, there was room for people to pass through it, and it was intricately crossed by seven ivory and gold bridges.

    The bottom of the pool, which was filled with liquor, was made of ss, andrge fish swam in an enclosed area below.

    All of them were of the highest quality, and the chefs would pluck them out and cook them as guests requested.

    Whether it''s a shark, a whale, or a whale shark.

    This is like the main forest itself!

    Everything you need to enjoy life was here.

    Liquor, food, music, clowns, models, dancers, firecrackers, balloons, men, women... All of this fun and excitement was zing and melting away in the midst of immense luxury and pleasure.

    All of this is in the name of passion''.

    A great show put on by three students of the Colosseo Academy with overflowing humanity, selflessness andpassion.

    "I''ve never seen such a great party!"

    "What kind of students are they to throw a party of this magnitude!"

    "No, I mean, how much money did they make in the first ce?"

    The guests are all dumbfounded.

    But it doesn''tst long, as they are soon ovee by the alcohol and the atmosphere.

    Dancers covered inrge, colorful feathers like mingos put on a breathtaking show.

    Tens of thousands of balloons are rising, and firecrackers are going off one after another.

    Puff, puff, boom!

    The balloons hit by the colorful sparks set off a secondary explosion, scattering the petals and gold dust inside.

    This is the Oracle''s party. A party where everyone is drunk on the colorful lights of the party hall.

    No one in the Imperial Capital, or indeed any of the renowned nobleman of the Empire, had ever experienced a party of this magnitude.

    And then, the hosts of this party stepped forward.

    "H-Hello?"

    Piggy was the first to step forward with an awkward smile.

    "You''ve waited a long time."

    Sinir was next, smiling in polite greeting.

    "We are the members of Oracle who hosted this party today."

    Finally, Dolores, the representative, stepped forward.

    Wah-aaaaaah!

    The guests pped and cheered.

    Because the guests were older, no one stamped their feet or whistled, but they gave a warm wee in their own way.

    Then.

    Dolores spoke up.

    "I''d like to thank everyone foring to our Oracle Investment Club party. I think it''s a great opportunity for us juniors to meet and greet our seniors."

    When it was revealed that she was the saintess of Quovadis, everyone eximed in exmation.

    ''Si, Sinir, what are we gonna do?''

    ''Shhh. Piggy, be quiet. If we stay still, no one will know we''remoners.''

    Standing next to each other, Piggy and Sinir didn''t bother to give their names.

    But, as Sinir had intended, most of the people around them naturally assumed that their lineage was nothing out of the ordinary.

    Dolores, meanwhile, had thest word.

    "I would like to take this opportunity to say that I hope that what we have begun today will continue. No, I don''t want it to just continue, I want it to be a steady march forward. Just like those nimble horses."

    She reached out and pointed to the center of the hall.

    There stood arge, beautiful coral sculpture.

    A magnificently sized and expensive coral, a statue carved out of it, how expensive and how much it must have cost to make.

    ... But it wasn''t a horse, it was a deer.

    A deer with two antlers, not a horse but a deer.

    But no one said anything else about the horse in Dolores''s words.

    "Come on, junior, let''s run like horses!"

    "Great! You''ve got guts!"

    "They are very handsome young people!"

    Jirokwima (referring to a deer as a horse).

    What did it matter whether it was a horse or a deer in the first ce, when they were already drunk with the splendor of the party?

    Soon, the business world was swarming around Dolores, Piggy, and Sinir, showering them with praise, ttery, and curious conversation.

    And.

    "...."

    The servant boy, who had been busy weaving in and out of the crowd, serving, ushering, and otherwise skillfully handling his duties, quietly made his way to the edge of the party.

    Cat in Boots.

    He looked at the crowd with his red eyes shining behind the mask.

    ''End of the century. I''m d the aesthetic I saw at the end of humanity worked.''

    Night Hound. Vikir. This time, he became Cat in Boots.

    Vikir''s mind shed back to the time before his regression.

    Just before the full-scale war of destruction against the demon army began, humanity began to exhibit numerous abnormal phenomena toward the end of the century.

    One of them was luxury and pleasure.

    Every nation, every country, is always on the brink of destruction, and extreme extravagance is always present.

    Most of the most wealthy people in the world went insane just before the end of the world.

    They began to pursue extremes of taste, fashion, beauty, etc., and began to indulge in luxuries beyond human standards.

    The 3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th generations of rich people... ... As each generation passed, the corruption and debauchery became more severe.

    And whether he liked it or not, Vikir had witnessed their extravagant behavior many times.

    ''In times of peace, people have money, but they don''t know how to spend it. Theyck imagination.

    The forms of interiors, designs, and other luxuries that humans could create with all their creativity and imagination when indulging in extreme luxury and pleasure.

    Vikir had used his knowledge and experience to organize this party, even if only superficially.

    ''By the way, I didn''t have enough money for the party, so I had to go into debt.''

    As if this investment and dividend ie were not enough, they also received new investment from numerous people and poured it into the party.

    They had to make a strong impression on people in the business world somehow.

    ... Of course, Vikir had no intention of repaying his lenders.

    Because all the rich people who lent money to Vikir were the demon''s agents.

    They lent him money because they trusted the reputation of the Oracle Investment Club.

    But of course, it was a fraud of identity theft, and Dolores, Piggy, and Sinir had no obligation to repay anything.

    ''I''ll bankrupt them all. Try strangling yourself with the money you loved.''

    These are the people who got money instead of power when they made a contract with the demon in the first ce.

    They were unscrupulous people who would betray the Human Alliance before anyone else if war broke out, so there was no need to feel sorry for them.

    Above all, if I seed in hunting the Six Corpse, they will lose their energy and fade away on their own, so there is no need to worry about the aftermath.

    Then.

    "...!"

    Something caught Vikir''s eye as he silently searched his surroundings.

    Long brown hair, pale skin, ck eyes, and red lips.

    An androgynous appearance that made it impossible to tell if it was a woman or a man.

    He was dressed in a neat ck suit and a red cape, but his attire somehow made him look more appropriate for a funeral than a party.

    ''....Found.''

    Bourgeois J Demian.

    Director of the Imperial Money Manufacturing Bureau and a member of the Bourgeois Landowners Guild.

    Vikir closed his eyes once silently, then opened them.

    He walked forward, his gaze firmly fixed on Demian.

    With the eyes of a hound that has found its prey.

 Chapter 275: Money War (5)

    <h4>Chapter 275: Money War (5)</h4>

    Vikir pressed the cat mask tightly onto his face and stepped out.

    His target was Demian, a man with long dark brown hair in the distance.

    He holds the title of Director of the Imperial Money Manufacturing Bureau and an outside director of the Bourgeois Landowners Guild.

    An unusual position, half Imperial official, half director of a privatepany.

    This is hard to understand without knowing the backstory of his exile after losing an internal family political battle.

    He may have lost the Game of Thrones, but he was so capable and politically aware that even the Bourgeois family couldn''tpletely disown him.

    So, in addition to overseeing the work of the Money Manufacturing Bureau in the Empire, he also has a hand in the inner workings of the Bourgeois family''srgestndowning guild.

    However, his status as a civil servantes first, and he is not allowed to interfere in the affairs of his own family, so his position as a Director of the Landowners'' Guild is almost unnoticed.

    His influence within the family is also minimal, almost non-existentpared to his title and social standing as an earl.

    Vikir thought quietly.

    ''Maybe his elevation to Director was a voluntary choice to survive.''

    For those who challenged the throne and lost, there was only death, or worse, exile.

    To avoid such an oue, the brilliant andpetent Demian would have instigated a promotion as soon as he realized he would not be able to hold the position of Householder.

    To receive national protection.

    ''Fearful of his own family, he volunteers to be the state''s dog.''

    In other words, he was afraid of his family, so he turned to his job.

    Vikir''s assessment of this choice was simple.

    ''Wise.''

    Vikir knew all too well that family can be your worst enemy.

    You''re closer to them than anyone else, but they can hurt you more than anyone else.

    In that case, Demian''s decision to turn his back on his family and join the imperial service was a wise one.

    He was able to keep the Bourgeois in check, at least in a small way, by having the imperial favor.

    ''Damien''s knowledge of the Bourgeois''s inner workings would be a great asset to the imperial family.''

    We''ve already analyzed the newspaper articles and know that he''s at enmity with the Bourgeois family.

    In other words, Demian is currently walking a fine line between the imperial family and the Bourgeois.

    In addition to being a skilled merchant, he is also a skilled politician.

    Vikir continued to move forward, passing out cocktail sses to those around him like the other servants.

    Even Dolores didn''t know that he was disguised as a servant here and now, so he moved more stealthily and discreetly.

    The gap between him and Damien was now only a few meters or so.

    He was chatting with the people who had gathered around him.

    "Hahaha, money is such a great thing."

    "They say there''s nothing money can''t do."

    "I can''t believe you young juniors can afford such a luxury. Honestly, I''m a little surprised."

    "Indeed, money is something to be enjoyed once earned."

    "I can see why the phrase "Golden Universalism" came about."

    The people with drinks in their hands wereughing in a drunken way.

    Then. One of them said.

    "Ah, money is great, but it''s not everything. How many things in the world can''t you do with money?"

    This is a response to the saying that gold is everything.

    Then the other person next to him said

    "Uh-huh. Don''t you know a saying that''s popr among young people these days?"

    "Oi, what''s that?"

    "If there''s something you can''t solve with money, you should think about whether you don''t have enough money, hahahaha!"

    At those words, the crowd burst intoughter.

    "That''s right. Having money doesn''t make you happy, but not having money makes you unhappy."

    "Sure. Eat good things, wear good things, ride in good things, sleep in good ces, travel in good ces, buy good toys, give good gifts to good people. Because if you''re full and warm in the first ce, you have a much better chance of being happy than anyone else."

    "Hehe- when I was younger, I thought money was the best, but now that I''m older, I realize that money is even better than I thought when I was younger!"

    "That''s right, when I was younger, I envied people with money the most, but now that I''m an adult, I still envy people with money the most."

    "One time I said, ''I wish I had a lot of money,'' and someone said, ''Money can''t buy happiness.'' '' And I was like, ''Who said I want to be happy? I said I want to have a lot of money.''"

    "Really, money is a great invention. It''s the greatest symbol of humanity."

    The conversation soon turned to praising the greatness of money.

    It may be an obvious topic since they are all figures in the business world, but in fact, there was another intention behind it.

    It was also an indirect ttery towards Demian, the maker of ''money'' itself.

    Director of the Imperial Money Manufacturing Bureau. The man who prints the currency of thend.

    As the person most closely associated with money, it was assumed that he would have a certain pride and awe towards the item called money.

    However.

    "...."

    Director Demian onlyughed bitterly.

    Then, without another word, he left the room and headed for the terrace alone.

    The suddenly somber atmosphere had everyone wondering if they had said something wrong, but no one could put their finger on it.

    "What, what, didn''t the Director look a little unhappy just now?"

    "Hmm. Did we do something wrong?"

    "Not really. We said all the right things."

    "Maybe he was just drunk?"

    "You''re right. He seemed a little tired when he walked into the party in the first ce."

    "... Plus, he''s got ''daughter issues.''"

    The others all nodded at thest one.

    "Now that I think about it, his daughter has be like that...."

    "You mean Juliet, I''ve heard the news."

    "She was so young and beautiful, it''s a shame."

    "No wonder he feels so bad, then."

    They talked about Demian and his daughter''s misfortune for a few minutes until the new dancers came in and captured everyone''s attention with their energetic dance.

    Compared to the expensive liquor that went into their mouths, the sympathy that came out of their mouths seemed pretty cheap.

    * * *

    "...Whoa."

    Demian. He was leaning against the terrace, staring out into the night.

    Beyond the silken curtains, he could see the beautifulndscape of the Imperial Capital.

    The blue night sky. It was cozy andforting, the kind of ce you want to curl up in and fall asleep.

    But Demian only nced at it for a moment before turning away.

    Loud music and excited voices from the hall beyond. Everyone was talking about tonight''s party.

    Suddenly, he remembered the story he heard in the hall.

    "... money."

    He was no stranger to money.

    From the time he was born, he had a golden spoon of enormous purity in his mouth, and when he was young, he umted enormous wealth through numerousmercial ventures.

    Now, in his twilight years, he was the head of a money printing institution.

    In other words, a man who has spent his entire life around money. He was a being who had held an incalcble amount of money in his hands.

    But even Demian flinched at the voice behind him.

    "Do you think there''s anything in this world that money can''t do?"

    Demian turned his head and looked behind him.

    How close had he gotten? A boy in a cat mask stood behind him.

    At first, Demian thought it was just one of the servants who hade to him out of admiration.

    But then he realized.

    ''...No presence?''

    The boy approached without a sound and stood behind him like a ghost.

    The movements were too subtle to be attributed to a servant who was simply trained in movement.

    But Demian was indeed a smart man.

    He didn''t show his displeasure or yell or anything.

    He just tried to talk to him, to smooth things over.

    "You know, a lot."

    Demian nodded, then turned his gaze to the night sky.

    "Money is just one of many means to achieve a goal. And there are as many unfulfilled goals as there are stars in the night sky. That''s what makes us human."

    Demian replied in a casual voice, casually stepping away from the railing.

    To return to the party hall.

    Then. The servant boy said.

    "So what''s the farthest and brightest of those stars?"

    "...?"

    Demian turned his head with a questioning look, and the servant boy was still standing there.

    A star. Shining brightly in the night sky.

    A lofty, distant goal that was truly desirable, but impossible to achieve, even for a man of Demian''s status.

    "...Isn''t that what it means to meet your dead daughter?"

    The servant boy''s words stopped Demian in his tracks.

    There is a moment of silence, and the night air grows even colder.

    Finally, Demian spoke.

    "It''s about meeting the dead."

    He turned at an angle and looked at the servant boy.

    His gaze, unlike before, was sharpened.

    "...I can''t do it, but it looks like you''ll be able to soon."

    At the same time, a terrifying surge of murderous intent surged out.

    Jizzzzt-

    A sh of light. A golden stiletto flew out of Demian''s waistband and into the servant boy''s shoulder.

    Demian thought briefly.

    This spoiled servant boy will feel the fear of death, but his life will not be in danger.

    But he will have to live with an ufortable arm for the rest of his life as a punishment for running his mouth at a high ranking nobleman.

    But.

    ...bang!

    Demian''s thoughts were interrupted.

    And the quick sword that was deployed quickly also missed.

    A sharp crimson sword protruding from the back of the servant boy''s hand deflected his sword.

    At the same time, Demian''s eyes opened wide as if they were torn apart.

    "...N-Night Hound?"

 Chapter 276: Money War (6)

    <h4>Chapter 276: Money War (6)</h4>

    Vikir openly taunted Demian.

    "...Isn''t that what it means to meet your dead daughter?"

    There were stains even in his life that seemed to be nothing to envy.

    His daughter, Juliet, died at a young age.

    The Earl''s daughter was said to have drank poison herself in shame at being caught up in a scandalous affair.

    Sure enough, Demian couldn''t bear the mention of his daughter, his only reverse, and pulled out his sword.

    Siiiight.

    A sh of light. A golden stiletto slices through the air at tremendous speed.

    Vikir felt a small amount of admiration for Demian''s fierce sword strike.

    ''Indeed, the all-powerful tycoon.''

    Bourgeois, unlike Baskerville the Ironblood Swordman, Morg the Mage, Quovadis the Faithful, Don Quixote the Lancer, Usher the Archer, and Leviathan the Poisonous, has no special weapon to show off like sword, magic, holy power, spear, bow, or poison.

    As a matter of form, yes.

    But of course, the Bourgeois have a weapon that no one can ignore: money.

    Money.

    It was their vast financial power that made them one of the seven great families of the Empire.

    ...So, are the Bourgeois powerless?

    Of course not.

    Believing that there is nothing money can''t buy, the Bourgeois spent their money to acquire countless swords, spears, bows, shields, magic, and more.

    They took over entire sword families or mercenary corps that seemed even slightly promising, and arranged marriages with members of prestigious martial families to produce excellent second, third, fourth, and fifth generation children.

    These blood-born prodigies possessed all the qualities associated with swords, magic, divine powers, spears, bows, poisons, and more, and were given vast sums of money for early education, allowing them to develop their talents to the fullest.

    Even if they didn''t have talent, they could create it with the help of expensive tutoring and elixirs.

    The essence of the best of all families.

    That is the true power of a Bourgeois family.

    And Demian had attacked Vikir with the superior qualities he had inherited from his ancestors and the swordsmanship he had been thoroughly trained in from a young age.

    But.

    ...ng!

    Demian''s sword deflected.

    It was deflected by Beelzebub, the magic sword drawn by Vikir.

    A stealthy presence, a terrifying power, and a sword as red as blood.

    "...N-Night Hound?"

    Demian''s eyes widened to the point of tearing as he deduced the conclusion from the target''s characteristics.

    It seemed like he was genuinely shocked, as his characteristic expressionless expression waspletely broken.

    But Vikir was just as surprised.

    ''You''re surprisingly strong.''

    The sword that he had thought was just fancy on the outside was actually a real killing sword, not just for decoration.

    Moreover, the sword technique that Demian had just deployed was clearly an old version of the Baskerville style.

    It''s called the "Submerged Deep Sea Fish Style".

    It wasn''t technically 100% Baskerville, but rather a ssical sword technique of the Bahamut family that had been absorbed into the Baskervilles quite some time ago.

    The Bahamut family was one of the "Five Great Iron-Blooded Swordsmen," a family with a long and storied history and a strong foundation in arcane swordsmanship, until they were all absorbed into the Baskerville family long ago.

    ''A ssic trajectory that looks like a mixture of fish scales and dog teeth, clearly a sword technique from a time when the Baskerville and Bahamut styles of swordsmanship had not yet fully fused. This must be a second-ss military secret, forbidden to be taken outside the family. Did you pay to learn this?''

    In Vikir''s opinion, Demian''s swordsmanship was still very sloppy.

    Baskerville hadn''t absorbed all of Bahamut in the first ce,

    two things of different origins can never be exactly the same.

    In the end, Baskerville had only taken what he could from Bahamut''s swordsmanship.

    Like a dog swallowing a fish and spitting out the bones.

    ''Trying to force the two together and fuse them is what makes them creak.''

    As far as Vikir knew, the swordsmanship of Bahamut and the swordsmanship of Baskerville were only fully fused in Hugoter years.

    So it''s not surprising that Demian''s weaknesses would have remained when he learned it.

    Kiriririk-

    Vikir dodged Demian''s attack with a quick tilt of his chin.

    Demian retrieved his sword and sent it flying again.

    The tip of the sword stabs like a tooth along a smooth and gloomy path like the scales of a deep-sea fish.

    Puff-puff-puff!

    Dozens of holes appeared in the ckout curtains as they fluttered in the wind.

    "...!?"

    But Demian couldn''t help but open his eyes wide.

    Vikir''s body, which he could see through the fluttering curtains, was already gone by the time the curtains settled.

    ''Huh, where?''

    Demian closed his eyes and stretched out his energy.

    The mana emanating from his body congealed into an aura that wrapped around him like a.

    But there was nothing to be caught.

    Shhh-

    The only thing that sent a chill down his spine was the sound of the wind whistling past his ears.

    Demian gritted his teeth and turned around.

    "There!"

    There was Vikir, standing on thin air.

    Underneath his feet was a spider web that was so thin that it was invisible to the naked eye.

    Swiiiig-

    Demian''s sword emitted a brown aura.

    This time, it was a more skillful Baskerville Four.

    A sharp killing move,plete with the Graduator''s aura.

    Unfortunately for Demian, Vikir is a veteran of the Baskerville style.

    ''Shallow.''

    The Bahamut family''s deep-sea fish are not as effective in shallow water.

    Whilick-

    Vikir wrapped his hand around Demian''s stiletto and pressed it into the ground, then stomped on it to crush it.

    ...ng!

    A long sword shatters on the ground, and at the same time, the Graduator''s aura is smashed and scattered like water droplets.

    "...cough!?"

    Demian jumped back in surprise.

    The opponent was a rare viin, Night Hound that was known to kill even mid-to-high level Graduators.

    His danger isparable to or higher than Miss Uroboros.

    Demian knew he couldn''t take this one on alone, so he couldn''t waste any time.

    Demian quickly retreated backwards.

    However, as a person who knows well that one should not show one''s back to a dog, he still kept his gaze straight ahead and once again disyed the Baskerville style with his stilettos cut in half.

    This time, however, Vikir skillfully dodged the attack.

    Kiririk- ...Tsk!

    The flying hound''s teeth are familiar as his own, so all Vikir have to do is gently wrap his arms around it and swallow.

    Tarang-

    Having deflected all of Demian''s attacks, Vikir rushed forward and shed at his sword, sending it flying.

    "!?"

    Demian''s eyes widened to tears.

    Vikir thought to himself.

    ''No wonder you''re surprised.''

    A deadly killing move that had never failed him before.

    This technique was recognized even by CaneCorso in the Grave of Swords.

    ng.

    The sound of Demian''s sword falling to the ground could be heard behind him.

    "...."

    Demian bit his lip in defeat.

    No matter how much money you have, there''s no way you''re going to be able to defend yourself against a sword that''s right in front of you.

    For the first time in a long time, Vikir remembered Hugo''s teaching.

    ''The things rich people always say are the same. ''Money is power.'' But they probably know too. When the proposition ''A is B'' is put forward, A in front is always inferior to B behind. Phrases like ''Time is money'' and ''Silence is golden'' are just that. These are tearful attempts to somehow match what is in front with what is behind. Who would exchange gold for time and silence? Everyone chooses gold. In other words, those who say ''money is power'' know it well. ''Money is worse than power''.

    The reason why Hugo, who was usually quiet, spoke a lot that day was because of his hatred for the Bourgeois.

    ''If Hugo found out that Director Demian was learning Baskerville to the fourth form, there would be a war.''

    Vikir clicked his tongue and stretched out his hand.

    ...Quack! Thud!

    He grabbed Demiea''s face with one hand and mmed it into the floor.

    They say money is power, but in the hierarchy of things, power is higher.

    The confidence of those with money is often shattered in the face of pure violence.

    Is that why? Demian was currently on the ground, his eyes wide open.

    And then.

    "...."

    He closed his eyes silently.

    Not protesting, not screaming, just quietly epting the sentence toe.

    Vikir asked in a hoarse voice.

    "No pleading, no threats?"

    "...."

    "Usually they''re busy telling me that they''ll pay me to let them live, or that if I touch them, I''ll be in trouble."

    After a few moments of silence, Demian spoke up.

    "My back hurts, so I can''t talk."

    "...."

    "Just kidding."

    Demian''s nonchnt demeanor in this situation speaks to the experience of a veteran who has been through a lot and survived a lot.

    Demian looked up at Vikir and said.

    "By the look in your eyes behind your mask, you are not a man to be easily persuaded. You must have a purpose."

    "...."

    "If you''re going to kill me, kill me. There are no negotiations with terrorists."

    At Demian''s words, Vikir shook his head.

    "You got a good look, but you didn''t see the whole picture. I had no intention of killing you in the first ce."

    "...."

    "But you seem to be full of thoughts of death."

    Vikir''s words stunned Demian for a moment.

    His eyes slowly drift up to the night sky as he lies on the ground.

    "...."

    A brightly shining star. It was so far away, out of reach.

    So far, so far away that not even its light could reach Demian''s eyes.

    Then, a dry voice came out of his mouth.

    "You''ve seen it. I''ve seen it all."

 Chapter 277: What Money Can’t Buy (1)

    <h4>Chapter 277: What Money Can��t Buy (1)</h4>

    A challenger who once sought the throne of the tycoon Bourgeois.

    Silver medalist "Bourgeois J Demian".

    Director of the Imperial Money Manufacturing Bureau and a member of the Bourgeois Landowners Guild. Wealth, honor, power, a huge luxurious mansion, fancy carriages, and a beautiful consort,

    Wealth, honor, and power, he seems to have it all, so why has he lost all will to live?

    "...It''s amon thing."

    Demian spoke in a low voice.

    As Vikir had suspected, it was his daughter.

    "You can have all the money in the world, but you can''t control your children, and I realized that toote."

    Demian said in a low voice.

    As Vikir had known in his pre-regression life, Demian had an only child, a beautiful and only daughter.

    ''Bourgeois J Juliet''.

    Long, bushy white hair, clear eyes. A girl with a bright smile on her face and the cuteness of a clueless puppy.

    "Like all Bourgeois, my daughter was put to the test as soon as she was born."

    Demian exined the Bourgeois family tradition.

    Coterals and illegitimate children normally grow and grow within the family, but ''real children'' are different.

    Just as the young Baskervilles were abandoned to the wilds of the Red and ck Mountains, the bourgeois scions who would eventually lead the family were sealed off and thrown into society asmoners.

    Survival in society is just as difficult as survival in the wilderness.

    The young Bourgeois who will one day take over the reins of the family must rely solely on his own strength to seed in the imperial capital, the center of the empire, without any help from parents or family.

    This is a grueling process that takes them from the bottom of the socialdder to the top, so that they don''t be full of privilege and a sense of entitlement.

    Demian''s daughter, Juliet, also went out into the world as amoner to gain practical experience for her age group.

    During the difficult verification period, which took over a decade, she never once used her father''s or the family''s backing.

    This was due to the Bourgeois heir''s belief in Esse, Non Videri: To exist, but not to reveal.

    "Bourgeois families always have two or more leaders for checks and bnces andpetition. In my generation, it was my brother and me."

    Bartolomeo and Demianpeting for the title of patriarch.

    The result was a victory for the eldest son, Bartolomeo.

    ... But Demian didn''t give up.

    Bartholomeo''s only daughter and Demian''s only daughter.

    Coincidentally, both brothers had only one daughter.

    Demian was convinced that his daughter was even more talented and skilled than his brother''s daughter.

    He thought that one day, when his daughter returned, he would regain all that he had lost and rise to the pinnacle of his family.

    "But his hopes were shattered when his daughter gave up her exams halfway through and returned to the family."

    Juliet. While living as amoner, she revealed her surname and family name, which disqualified her as heir.

    After revealing her identity, Juliet even returned to the family home to ask her father for help.

    ''Father, I have someone I love.''

    Demian narrowed his eyes.

    "...She went out on a volunteer mission and met a sick man from an lowly backgrounds and fell in love with him. I sent her to experience the low life, and I never thought she''d settle for the low life."

    The man''s name was Romeo.

    He''s no more than a servant, doing menial tasks, not a leader of a family.

    He was an ordinary man from an ordinary background, with ordinary looks, ordinary talents, and an ordinary future.

    The only thing that set him apart from the rest of the world was his weak body, his terminally ill life, and perhaps a somewhat sage-like attitude due to that?

    No money, no fame, no power, no achievement, no sess, no recognition, no showmanship, no interest in any of the values that the world puts its neck on... just being kind, gentle, and serving his neighbors.

    To this man, who also imed to be a bard, and whose stigma was to live in thepany of nature and art, Juliet fell in love.

    Demian ran a hand through his hair.

    "I was angry. Because to me, he was just azy, backbone-less idiot. An ipetent who disguises his inability to move upward with pettiness. A scumbag who was trying to fix himself up by getting lucky with a rich youngdy. That''s what I thought."

    Demian was furious that his only daughter, whom he had raised so carefully and had such high hopes for, had made such an immature mistake.

    But Juliet was undaunted.

    ''He''s a good man, Dad, he has something we don''t have, and maybe he can bring some happiness back to my father, who''s been so disappointed ever since he didn''t make it to the head of the family! If he''s the one, I''m sure...!''

    Of course, Demian didn''t listen to his daughter.

    The daughter who dropped out of a crucial exam, revealed her identity, and asked for a hefty hospital bill to save a man whose life was on the line.

    Juliet''s desperate plea to save Romeo''s life is not epted by Deiman.

    Instead, he sends a hitman to drag Romeo to the side of the road in the rain, beat him badly, and send word that he and Juliet must part ways.

    And that night.

    Through a storm of lightning and pouring rain, Juliet found Demian.

    "...You''re my dad, right?

    Demian didn''t answer.

    Then Juliet spoke up, her voice low and quiet.

    ''In the end, he never mentioned father''s name, and when I pressed him, heughed that all fathers must think of their sons-inw as thieves, and that he would have done the same.''

    Juliet bowed her head deeply.

    Then she turned and walked away.

    For a moment, Demian hesitated in his anger and bitterness, but then he felt that if they parted, he would never see her again, so he finally followed her out the door.

    Juliet got into the carriage and drove off in front of him.

    Demian hastily organized a chase party and set out to find her.

    After some time, he spots Juliet''s carriage.

    Juliet is carrying Romeo, who is barely able to move.

    They seem to be traveling to a very faraway ce. Far, far away from the eyes of the world, forever.

    Demian, of course, couldn''t let it go, so he unleashed his well-trained horses to follow them.

    And then. There was an ident.

    ...Duarrr!

    Rain. Slippery roads. A horse startled by thunder.

    The usual clich��s, the predictable ending to a tragedy.

    The carriage Juliet was driving rolled over, and they died on the spot.

    "What a pity."

    Vikir said dryly.

    He''d heard it through the rumor, but hearing it from the source had a different weight to it.

    Then.

    Demian spoke up again.

    "It''s a little different from the rumor you heard."

    "...?"

    "My daughter is not dead."

    "...!"

    This was the first time Vikir had heard it.

    Demian continued.

    "When I first ran to the scene of the ident, my daughter was in his arms."

    "...."

    "The guy waspletely injured, but my daughter didn''t have any injuries. I don''t know how that was possible."

    The rest of Demian''s story is a bit longer.

    When Juliet woke up, she immediately asked about Romeo''s condition.

    Demian deliberately gave her the cold hard truth.

    It may broke her heart, but Damien wanted his daughter to take this opportunity to give up on him and move on.

    And he wanted her to find a worthy husband, someone from the imperial family or one of the other seven families, someone with a good heart.

    And that''s when the real tragedy began.

    Juliet fainted immediately after hearing the story.

    She fell into bed for a long time, woke up, and fell again.

    And then she woke up and fainted, and then she woke up and fainted.

    After dozens of such passages, she was finally unable to wake up.

    Demian ran his hand through his hair.

    "My daughter is not dead. She''s just closed her eyes and will never wake up."

    Clearly breathing, but unconscious. An unknown state that responds to no medicine, no poison, no divine power.

    There was nothing Demian wouldn''t do to bring his daughter back to life.

    He''d spent vast sums of money and called in countless elixirs, divine knowledge, and experts.

    He even bowed to the other seven great families and asked for their cooperation.

    But the result was failure. Failure. Failure.

    Priests, shamans, pharmacists, and doctors shook their heads.

    There is no cure for a wound so deep that the soul refuses tomunicate.

    Demian was still staring up at the night sky, his eyes blurry.

    "The human heart, especially love, is such a great and wonderful thing. To think that I would try to tear it apart forcibly, for the sake of money, honor, and status. Oh, I can''t believe it now. Why did I do that...."

    Even the dazzling starlight doesn''t shine in his eyes.

    His voice was hollow and empty as he recited his longing for something that was now out of reach.

    In this way, he had lost the will to live.

    He couldn''t even sympathize with the words of the drunkards who wereughing and talking in the party hall.

    Because in the face of human love, money is really nothing, like dust.

    "...I really don''t know why I did it."

    Demian burst into tears.

    If he could only see his daughter''s smiling face once more, what would money and status and all that stuff mean?

    He could take it all and throw it away.

    If he had the luxury of seeing her smile, he wanted to just see her awake and apologize to her from the bottom of his heart just once.

    But all of that was impossible.

    He had tried so many times already, and all of them had failed.

    ... But.

    Vikir knew there was only one way.

    There was only one way, and it was a very powerful one, one that could cross the boundaries between this world and the afterlife.

    The Wraith Tree.

    It is a being that has direct contact with the souls of the dead, the living, and those unable to die.

    Vikir spoke in a dry voice.

    "What if I gave you a chance to talk to your daughter?"

    "...!"

    Demian''s eyes widened to tears at Vikir''s words.

    The starlight touches the flowing tears of blood and sparkles.

    Vikir asked again, more firmly.

    "So, what can you give me?"

 Chapter 278: What Money Can’t Buy (2)

    <h4>Chapter 278: What Money Can��t Buy (2)</h4>

    "What if I told you that you could talk to your daughter?"

    "...!"

    "And what could you give me?"

    Demian''s eyes widened at Vikir''s words.

    If only he could get his daughter toe back and talk to him once more, what a price to pay as a father.

    "I, if my daughter wakes up. I would never be angry with her again, and I would let her know that I love her no matter what, unconditionally, and I would respect whatever choices she makes, and I would forgive her for the rest of her life...."

    "No. What can you give me?"

    Vikir cut Demian''s confession short.

    Vikir was not a priest, and he was under no obligation to listen to the regrets of an ipetent father.

    "...."

    Demian''s expression went nk for a moment, then returned.

    He''d met countless people in his life who''d begged him to lend them money.

    They wanted an investment, they wanted to pay interest, they wanted to dy the payment of a debt, or they had a sick family member �C parent, spouse, child...

    But each time, Demian thought to himself.

    ''What the hell.''

    That''s their problem, not mine.

    In order to make a deal, you have to convince the other side, and an essential part of that process is convincing the other side that the deal is a win-win.

    That doesn''t include the unfortunate party''s pathetic story.

    Demian, who has made a lot of heartless trades in his life, finally snapped out of it.

    "If you give me my daughter back, I''ll give you everything in my power, including...."

    Demian said without hesitation.

    It looked like he''d been practicing his resolve for a long time.

    But Vikir shook his head.

    "I didn''t say I''d give it back."

    "...?"

    "To make conversation possible."

    For a moment, an anxious glint shed across Demian''s face.

    "You don''t mean you''re going to kill me and my daughter so our souls can talk to each other or something?"

    "Well, that would be one way."

    " ...Look."

    "But that''s not a good idea, especially since it''s a money-back guarantee if you''re not satisfied with the results."

    Vikir stood up and turned to face the back of the fluttering curtain.

    When Demian pushed himself out of the booth, Vikir was gone.

    However.

    "Dying is not an atonement, it''s an escape. Take responsibility for it to the end."

    He could only hear the muffled voice echoing in his head.

    * * *

    Exactly one monthter.

    Vikir found Demian''s mansion.

    On the outskirts of a strict border, gaps appear like threads.

    Through the gap into the depths of the mansion, he saw Demian standing nervously.

    He was spinning around in circles, restless like a rabbit with a pocket watch.

    Finally, spotting Vikir, Demian spoke in a tightly held voice.

    "...You''rete."

    "This is early."

    Brief greetings are exchanged.

    Vikir was led by Demian to a bedroom deep in the annex.

    At first, the big, fluffy bed came into view.

    Temperature, humidity, light, and rxing scented candles fill the center of the room.

    A womany with her eyes closed.

    Long, flowing white hair. Fair, clean skin, big eyes, longshes.

    Juliet. Juliet J Bourgeois. Demian''s only child and only daughter. One of two girls who tried to be the next head of the family. The genius girl who was once thought to be the closest to bing the next head of household.

    "...."

    Vikir stared at Juliet''s sleeping face.

    ''I think I recognize this face.''

    Surely it was familiar.

    Vikir wondered for a moment where he had seen this woman''s face before.

    "Is this a necessary part of awakening my daughter, to stare so intently into a sleepingdy''s face?"

    Demian asked in an uneasy voice from beside Vikir.

    Vikir heard the words and pulled his gaze away from Juliet''s face.

    "You cane out now."

    With that, Vikir''s cloak was lifted, and a figure stepped out from within.

    It was Pomeranian.

    Demian stared at Pomeranian in disbelief.

    " ...What is this girl? She looks way too young."

    "She is the shaman who will summon your daughter. If you want to talk to your daughter, stay quiet."

    Vikir waved away all of Demian''s questions as if they were a nuisance.

    Then Vikir turned to Pomeranian and spoke.

    "Pomeranian. Your soul sensitivity is excellent. Can you do this?"

    "Mmm! Samchun!"

    "Uncle, not Samchun. Anyway, let''s do what I told you before."

    Vikir, Pomeranian, and Demian moved to the middle of the bed and stood looking down at Juliet.

    After staring at Juliet for a moment, Pomeranian spoke.

    "This sister. Have no soul."

    The words stunned Damien.

    "What do you mean, no soul? What does that mean?"

    "Mmm. ... it away. It''s somewhere else."

    "Well, what does that mean, huh, kid, talk to me longer!"

    Demian dropped to his knees and locked eyes with Pomeranian.

    Then Vikir interpreted.

    "Your daughter is now a living soul (���`), wandering elsewhere. Neither in this world nor the next."

    "A living soul, what is that?"

    "Her body is alive, but her soul is wandering elsewhere, assuming herself dead."

    Vikir nced at the Pomeranian.

    "The living soul thinks it is dead and wonders why it cannot go to the other side. Or even worse, it thinks it is still alive."

    "Well, then, what can I do!"

    "Nothing. That''s why I brought the shaman."

    Vikir stroked the Pomeranian''s head.

    "Hey, can you summon the owner of this body that has be a living soul here, in a visible form if possible?"

    "Mmm... I can''t use the tree samchun (uncle) gave me the other day!"

    Pomerianian replied cheerfully.

    With that, she closed her eyes and began to draw upon her mana.

    A natural born ck mage.

    Her skill at raising dead rats and scarabs with the ck magic she''d learned over her shoulder had grown during her time in Baskerville.

    Besides.

    Tsutsutsutsutsuts...

    A ck aura rose up behind Pomeranian''s back, forming the shape of a tree.

    A Wraith Tree.

    It was an ancient artifact that Vikir had obtained from the Grave of Swords, one of the few artifact left by the legendary ck mage Morg Tzersi.

    ''Finally it works.''

    Vikir nodded.

    The Wraith Tree, rooted in the Pomeranian''s mind, had sensed her talents and qualities and started to shake its trunk and leaves.

    ''It had form then, and now it has no form.''

    [Originally, the ancient artifact were both form and formless].

    Dekarabian interrupted.

    Vikir pressed the creature back into his chest and focused on the Pomeranian.

    And then.

    "Meet me at the entrance to the forest, at the end of the road, under the big tree that was split by lightning!"

    Then Demian''s eyes widened.

    "That''s where she was in the carriage ident! At the end of the road, where the big tree was split by lightning!"

    "I know, so be quiet."

    Vikir gave Demian a re and turned away again.

    ck mana began to gather at the Pomeranian''s fingertips.

    The power to wield domination over souls, dead or alive.

    The leaves, trunks, and roots of the Wraith Tree reached out, calling the living souls from far beyond.

    And then, before their eyes, something semi-transparent appeared.

    [...what? where?]

    Juliet. The tragic heroine appeared.

    "Da, daughter!?"

    Demian was about to jump out of his seat.

    He froze in ce.

    "What? What a surprise. Sister brought him here."

    Pomeranian shook her head.

    Tsutsutsutsutsu...

    Another soul appeared next to Juliet with a bewildered expression.

    It was Romeo.

    * * *

    [...So that''s how it happened].

    Juliet nodded.

    She looked down at her own body lying on the bed as Demian told her the whole story.

    A body that was breathing quietly. But she had lost her love and her soul, and living was no longer living.

    Demian knelt in front of Juliet, tears streaming down his face.

    "I''ve done wrong, daughter, and you may never forgive this ugly father for ignoring your feelings and acting so selfishly for no good reason."

    [...Rise, father].

    Juliet reached out for him. Demian lifted his head involuntarily, drawn to her touch.

    Beside her stood Romeo''s soul.

    Demian offered him his deepest apologies.

    "Even if I had ten mouths. I have nothing to say to you. I have been a bad father."

    Romeo''s eyes widened at the words.

    Juliet did the same.

    [Father! Are you sure...?]

    "Of course, you two are already married. Whether my approval matters to you or not, I choose to think so."

    Then tears welled up in Romeo and Juliet''s eyes.

    [Thank you, father. Thank you!]

    "I... I am grateful. For growing so beautifully. For calling your ugly father ''abeonim.''"

    Demian poured out his regrets and apologies in a voice that sounded like all his insides were breaking.

    Juliet and Romeo nodded and sobbed.

    It was an emotional scene as father and daughter, father-inw and son-inw, unpacked years of resentment.

    "There''s no time. Just hurry up and get the job done."

    Vikir dismissed the whole thing briefly.

    Demian tilted his head in question.

    "Wh, what do you mean, no time, my daughter''s soul has just returned?"

    "Not your daughter''s. I mean the man."

    At Vikir''s words, both Demian and Juliet''s gazes turned toward Romeo.

    [....]

    As it turned out, Romeo hadn''t said anything since earlier.

    Vikir briefly exined what he had heard from Pomeranian.

    "Apparently, the man ispletely dead and the woman is half dead, so they can''t be together for long. They have been brought here by force from the ce of their death, and it is time for them to pass on once and for all."

    "What, what! Why are you saying that now?"

    "Didn''t it matter if I could only summon your daughter''s soul?"

    "Why doesn''t it matter! My son-inw is going to the other side now!"

    "You killed him, why are you telling me?"

    Demian''s mouth twitched at Vikir''s words, unable to argue back.

    Pomeranian shook her head.

    "You have to go to the other side. That''s the way it is. It''s thew."

    True to his word, Romeo''s body blurred with each passing moment.

    Unlike Juliet, whose body was still alive.

    [...Darling, don''t leave me, please, I can''t live one bit in a world without you!]

    Juliet sobbed into Romeo''s arms.

    Demian ran his hands through his hair again and cursed himself.

    "s, I have driven this couple apart again, what a selfish, foolish idiot I am!"

    Now Romeo crosses the gates of death and leaves for the other world.

    He will never return.

    But Juliet, the living soul, cannot follow him.

    Her bond with her living body has not yet been severed.

    Juliet and Romeo can only caress each other''s faces and shed tears of longing.

    And Demian is once again deeply regretting his choice to separate his daughter from her life twice.

    "I swore I would never... cry for my daughter again... I swore I would never feel the same regret again... s, what a greedy pig I am."

    Demian thought he was already at the bottom, but there was a basement. Theyers of regret are so deep andplex.

    Just as Demian was drowning in his own self-pity.

    ...Tud!

    A hand on Demian''s shoulder.

    Vikir.

    Damien turned, and Vikir opened his mouth to speak.

    "It''s time to let her go."

    There are only two ces a father will hear these words.

    The wedding and the funeral.

    In a situation where these two ces that should not be rted at all are perfectly in sync.

    " .... .... ...."

    Demian''s pupils were shaking more violently than ever before.

    �C

    �C

    �C

    t/n:

    ?? (A-beo-ji): Abeoji means father, this call seems more formal and really shows a child''s respect for his father

    ??? (A-beo-nim): If there is a call for father that is more formal than abeoji it is abeonim. This nickname is often used by sons-inw to call their father-inw.

 Chapter 279: What Money Can’t Buy (3)

    <h4>Chapter 279: What Money Can��t Buy (3)</h4>

    Pomeranian was right when she said that time was running out.

    Tsutsutsutsutsuts...

    Suddenly, arge gate appeared in front of Juliet and Romeo.

    The gates of death.

    The gate was sorge and heavy that it seemed to be incredibly difficult to open and close.

    So once it was opened and once it was closed, there was no turning back.

    Romeo looked back at Juliet with a sad face.

    Juliet, too, weeps and looks at Romeo.

    [I told you before, wherever you go, I will follow you].

    That night in the pouring rain. The promise they made.

    Romeo leaving to go where the dead deserve to go, and Juliet following him.

    Then. Demian stepped between them.

    "No! No! Never!"

    Demian shouted in a seizure.

    "Juliet, you are still alive! How can you follow a dead man!"

    And Juliet replied in a sad voice.

    [My father had said so that night].

    Hearing his daughter''s words, Damian took a half step back, as if in shock.

    He had said something simr the night before.

    ''Juliet, you are the heir of the Bourgeois family, why would you entangle yourself with such a base and ignorant man?''

    The memory of that night haunted Demian, and he stammered an excuse.

    "Well, this is a different case! If it were a marriage, I''d allow it! The ugly father was all wrong, I admit it! But this isn''t... this! Romeo''s dead, and you''re alive!"

    [Only ''yet''].

    "What, what?"

    Juliet eximed, her eyes locking with Damian''s.

    [Without him, I''m as good as dead].

    "Daughter!"

    [It doesn''t matter how many times you say it, I''m the same, and even if I woke up again, I wouldn''t change].

    With those words, Romeo touches Juliet''s face with a sad expression.

    Juliet wraps her hand around his, too.

    Demian muttered in disbelief.

    "My daughter, you are a living soul, and they say a living soul cannot go to the other side. Your body is still alive and connected by a strong thread. I don''t know about Romeo, who is already dead, but you cannot cross the threshold of death...."

    A moment. Demian stopped talking and looked up at Juliet as if struck by lightning.

    "Ju-Juliet. You don''t think...?"

    [....]

    And Juliet lifted her tear-filled eyes.

    Soon. She knelt before her father.

    [Father. Please let me go now].

    Everything was the same as that night.

    ''I''ve listened to you all this time''

    [I''ve been a proud daughter, never letting you down].

    ''So just this once.''

    [Just this once, can''t you let me do as I please?]

    Whether the voice now echoing in his ears was from the past or the present, Demian couldn''t tell.

    All he could do was continue to shed tears that he thought had long since dried up.

    "...Ah, yes, that''s it, I crossed the river of no return, yes, that''s it."

    Hearing his daughter''s voice, for just a moment, he feels illusory.

    He thought he could make everything right.

    But it was an absurd illusion because he hadn''t yet felt the full weight of his mistake.

    And now. Realization struck, and Demian felt the true weight of his actions.

    "What are you going to do?"

    Vikir asked briefly.

    Demien voice cracking.

    " ... hours. How long do we have?"

    "About thirty minutes."

    It was indeed a short time.

    Demian hesitated for a few seconds, then nodded.

    He quickly ran to the servants beyond the doorway and shouted as loudly as he could.

    "Get ready for the wedding!"

    * * *

    The wedding preparations were done simply, but quickly.

    There was Juliet, the bride, and Romeo, the groom. With Demian, the father of the bride.

    And ording to the familyw that rtives cannot officiate, Vikir officiated.

    Pomeranian was to hold the hem of the bride''s dress and receive the bouquet.

    Vikir adjusted his gue doctor mask once, then stood at the dais and spoke briefly.

    "Always remember, I am here for you, not you for me. Live well the way you used to live."

    Unlike the hours-long ceremonies usually performed by high ranking nobles, this was a ceremony that left out a lot, but included all the essentials.

    Juliet and Romeo look into each other''s faces and smile tearfully.

    And then the bride and groom kiss.

    Demian, who was sitting alone at the wedding table, cried as he watched that scene.

    And then.

    BAM!

    Pushing his chair out of the way, he looked into his daughter''s soul and said.

    "Live well."

    At the same time. he picked up the pillow next to him.

    Where Demian''s gaze rested, he saw Juliet''s body lying on the bed, breathing quietly.

    "Live well, daughter. Live well, really live well."

    A trembling hand. Demian''s grip on the pillow tightened.

    He pressed the pillow firmly against Juliet''s face.

    It didn''t take much force.

    Juliet''s body, weakened from lying down for so long, simplyy there, offering no resistance.

    The only sound was the tiny gasps of breathing that grew smaller and smaller until they were no longer audible.

    Chuug...

    Juliet''s body became even more limp.

    Then something changed in Juliet''s soul.

    Her body became clearer and clearer. And she could finally hear Romeo''s words.

    [Oh, my God, Romeo, I can hear you now!]

    Juliet smiled brightly in Romeo''s arms.

    And then.

    Juliet and Romeo stood before Demian.

    Romeo bowed ny degrees to Damian.

    Juliet bowed her head slightly in the manner of a nobledy.

    [Father, we will live well].

    "...What''s the point of living when you''re already dead."

    Demian muttered in a somber voice.

    His red, bloodshot eyes were already filled with tears.

    Ding- ding- ding-

    Twelve chimes of the Great Clock strike midnight.

    Juliet and Romeo said their final goodbyes to Demian and then, holding each other''s hands, they walked across the carpet to the distant door of death.

    Eventually. The bride and groom have crossed the line.

    The line on the other side that separates this world from the afterlife. They opened the heavy door of death, crossed the high ledge, and left for their own world.

    ...Thud!

    The heavy, dull door closed as if it would never be opened again.

    Death and life, the afterlife and this world are cut off.

    ....

    A silence as quiet as a tomb weighs down the hall.

    Demian lowered his head and muttered.

    "...Be happy. Be happy, daughter. You two must be happy there. You must."

    His face twisted and hardened. The restrained tears were falling thickly, dripping onto the red carpet.

    ... Just then.

    BANG!

    The gates of death suddenly burst open with a loud bang.

    [Dad!]

    Juliet, who had just kicked open the heavy door, stuck her head out.

    [Hello Dad! hi! love you! I really love you! We will definitely meet again someday!]

    Juliet was crying.

    She was calling out to her dad with the most brilliant smile Demian ever seen on her face, and she was really crying.

    At the same time.

    ...thud!

    The door to death closedpletely.

    It slowly faded away, just as it had appeared, and soon disappeared from everyone''s sight.

    And then.

    bug-

    Damien dropped to his knees.

    He opened his nose and mouth wide.

    "Huuuuuuuuuuu-"

    His solemn expressionpletely copsed.

    His face was aplete mess, with tears in his eyes, snot in his nose, and drool dripping from his mouth.

    He leaned against the bed where his daughter''s bodyy and sobbed like that for a long time.

    "...."

    Vikir only stood still.

    Pomeranian came to Vikir''s side.

    "Samchun. Why is he crying?"

    Vikir stared into Pomeranian''s face.

    "I don''t know."

    "And Samchun doesn''t know either?"

    Pomerianian''s words made Vikir look away again.

    ''If death were to separate us, I wanted to be together even after it.''

    Why? A woman''s facees to mind.

    Vikir spoke in a low voice.

    "There are things I don''t know, of course."

    "If you don''t know, you have to learn!"

    "Hmm. I didn''t really want to learn originally, but...."

    Pomeranian gave him a questioning look, and Vikir looked away.

    And then he spoke briefly.

    "I suppose it wouldn''t hurt to get to know it."

    Just then.

    After a long sob, Demian raised his head.

    Vikir waited patiently for him to gather some of his emotions.

    When he did, he looked up and saw Vikir standing like a ghost near Juliet''s bed and asked.

    "...Are you really alive?"

    "If you''re dreaming, keep it to yourself. It''s settlement time."

    Vikir said firmly, snapping him back to reality.

    Demian nodded at the words.

    "Right. I suppose it''s time to settle our trade, but before we do, there''s something I need to tell you."

    "What?"

    "Thank you."

    It was a sudden thing. Demian bent ny degrees at the waist toward Vikir.

    After a moment of silence, he raised his head and spoke.

    "You''re the reason I was able to let her go,pletely."

    It was an ambiguous situation as to whether he meant was married her off or sent her to the underworld, but it was true in either case.

    Demian said with a slight smile.

    "Haha, I''m feeling pretty good now that I''ve sent my disobedient daughter off to wherever she''s going. It''s like a wedding or a funeral, isn''t it? Marriage is a tomb, after all."

    "Wipe your face and then speak."

    "Oh, no. I''m sorry."

    Demian pulled out a handkerchief and wiped away the tears, snot, and drool.

    Once he was back to his serious, solemn self, he asked Vikir straightforwardly.

    "What do you want from me?"

    "The head of the Bourgeois Family."

    "Head of the family."

    A conversation like lightning.

    It was a cool transaction that was too quick.

 Chapter 280: What Money Can’t Buy (4)

    <h4>Chapter 280: What Money Can��t Buy (4)</h4>

    A few dayster. Vikir once again visited Demian''s mansion wearing the mask of the Night Hound.

    "I''m d we seem to be working together on something."

    This time, Dolores was with him.

    Vikir nned to seek Damian''s cooperation and introduce Dolores at the same time.

    Demian''s mansion was still heavily guarded, but as he''d been told, there were areas that were unguarded.

    Vikir took that route with Dolores.

    After passing through several gates, they came to a high wall.

    Dolores stood in front of the high fence, wondering what to do.

    "Come here."

    "...What!?"

    Vikir picked Dolores up and scaled the fence in a sh.

    ...Chuck!

    Landing on the courtyard, Vikir set Dolores down beside him.

    "Uh... Has it already passed?"

    "?"

    "Oh, no, that''s nonsense!"

    Dolores covered her reddened ears with her hair and pped her hands like it was nothing.

    Then.

    "The garden might be a bit boring to enjoy a date."

    A muffled voice came from across the garden.

    Where Vikir and Dolores turned, Demian stood.

    "Since you officiated at my daughter''s wedding, I am willing to officiate at yours."

    "Your bullshit has increased."

    "Hahaha-is it?"

    Dolores was surprised to see Vikir and Demian chatting so casually.

    When she had visited him for the second round of the University League, he had been very depressed and nervous, as well as incredibly reticent.

    She couldn''t believe how much his personality had changed.

    ''By the way, is ... officiating, Night Hound? I mean, didn''t Director Demian''s daughter die in a car ident in the first ce?''

    To officiate at someone''s wedding is to be their godfather, a very important ceremony for nobles.

    What happened between Night Hound and Director Demian?

    How did they be so close?

    But Vikir did not bother to exin the past to Dolores.

    "This is an ally who will help me with this."

    "Pleased to meet you, Saintess of the Quovadis. We''ve met before, haven''t we?"

    At Vikir''s introduction, Demian extended his hand to Dolores.

    Dolores shook her hand and returned the gesture politely.

    "It is an honor to meet you again, Demian, Director of the Money Manufacturing Bureau."

    "If I had known we would be in the same boat like this, I would have seen it better then, hahaha-"

    Seeing Damian''s smiling face, Dolores had to gasp once more.

    She''d never realized he was capable of smiling so wide.

    Then. Vikir cut straight to the chase.

    "I will kill Bartholomeo, the patriarch of the Bourgeois Family."

    Dolores paused, meeting Demian''s eyes.

    But at the mention of killing the head of his own family, his own brother, Demian didn''t bat an eye.

    On the contrary.

    "Yes. I already prepared a ce for you."

    He epted it as a matter of course.

    Demian proceeded to tell his story.

    "I used a few of the family''s henchmen to spread the word about the Oracle Investment Fund to Patriarch. He was very interested, to say the least, at the prospect of a young genius with a talent for investing."

    "So. Did you get him?"

    "Yes."

    Demian nodded in response to Vikir''s question.

    Then he exined to Dolores, whose eyes were wide with confusion.

    "About the dinner date."

    "Oh."

    "Mark my words. Dinner is the perfect time to assassinate my brother."

    Dolores cocked her head at Demian''s newfound devotion.

    "But why dinner? Why not other opportunities, such as when you are outside the family home, or in bed?"

    "That is due to a peculiar habit my brother has."

    Demian exined.

    "Whenever he has a meeting or a meal with someone from the outside he always brings them into the vault of his house. And at all other times, he keeps a group of highly trained private soldiers at his side."

    "In the vault?"

    "Yes. The vault."

    Dolores scratched her head.

    Sure, the vault might be big, but how big could it be to let outsiders in?

    But Demian''s next words made Dolores'' jaw drop.

    "The vault is shaped like a cube, over a hundred meters across, long, wide, and high, and its walls are lined with mithril and orharkon, so it''s impossible to pry it open with any kind of force, and it''syered with dozens or hundreds ofyers of teleportation control magic, so it''s impossible to escape with magic. Of course, who designed and built it is a mystery."

    Iron Fortress. It''s more like an imprable citadel than a vault.

    "Within its vaults, gold, jewelry, money, art, and all sorts of treasures are stored in mountains and mountains of treasure. The invited guests will dine for two hours in the midst of these gold and silver treasures."

    "Why dine in such a ce?"

    "Because so many of the people whoe to visit my brother are clueless fools, who want to show off their wealth in a grandiose way, and perhaps to kill their spirit beforehand."

    "Forgive me if I seem to be asking a lot of questions, but is there any reason why... mealtime is two hours long?"

    "Because once the vault is closed, it won''t open for two hours, no matter what. The reason it''s set to two hours is because when the vault was first built, the knights of Ironblooded Baskerville were the ones who tested it."

    Vikir looked interested at Demian''s words.

    "The Knights of Baskerville?"

    "Yes. My brother borrowed the Knights of Baskerville to test the safety of the vault and tried to destroy it."

    Demian stroked his chin, remembering the past.

    "Those were the Pitbull Knights, I think?"

    Vikir knows the Pitbull Knights well. He''d used them once before, when he''d raided an illegal ve auction.

    An order dedicated to dogfighting, led by one of the Seven Counts, Boston Terrier.

    They are the embodiment of strength and determination, and once they are on their feet, they must bite their opponents to death.

    Demian tells an anecdote about them.

    "That''s when the entire Knights of the Pit Bulls came in and attacked the walls of the vault, and the walls were breached in two hours."

    What this means is that it was able to block the attacks from hundred of Graduator without stopping for two hours.

    If the vault is as strong as that, then security is assured, and we can eat in peace knowing that we are absolutely safe from outside threats.

    Dolores said briefly.

    "Put another way... that means that once we seed in meeting the Bourgeois patriarch inside the vault, we can run amok without outside intervention for at least two hours."

    "That''s right, because those on the outside can''t see or hear what''s going on inside."

    "Wouldn''t he be worried about being assassinated before he could get inside the vault? That seems like a reasonable concern."

    "Oddly enough, I''ve never heard him worry about that."

    Vikir, next to Damien, chimed in.

    "That''s because he''s a demon with absolute power."

    "...What, a demon?"

    Demian scratched his head as if he had never heard of it before.

    Dolores, meanwhile, was frantically scribbling notes.

    "Free time in the vault is two hours. When you go inside, you will see a mountain of treasures such as gold, currency, jewelry, and works of art. The strength of the outer wall is almost indestructible...."

    In the meantime, Vikir''s mind was elsewhere.

    ''It has be almost certain that the patriarch of the Bourgeois family is No. 6.''

    Vikir was convinced, based on the research Cindiwendy had recently sent back to him.

    Sixth corpse. A demon working with the ninth corpse, Dantalian, to consume both the Quovadis and the Bourgeois.

    Vikir thought back to the past, to the Age of Destruction.

    Morale boosted by the dazzling disys of their heroes, the Human Alliance had advanced across the ruined Imperial Capital.

    And they saw.

    ''The most beautiful being among those cast out from heaven.''

    He faced the great heroes of humanity with his seemingly innate bravery, strong and powerful dignity, courage, and spirit.

    However, the tactics he showed in the actual battle were cowardly, clumsy, cunning, and cruel.

    His appearance was also terrible.

    A thunderbolt of fire spewing from the eyes, eye glow billowing out like smoke from the world''srgest beacon fire, and breathden with a disgusting stench.

    Its mouth cracked open like the cracks of an arctic ice wall, and its horns and wings spread out to either side,rge enough to cover the entire battlefield.

    ''...I struggled with his tactics in the Legion vs. Legion battle. If he gathers strength over time, he can be a real nuisance, and we need to get rid of him as soon as possible.''

    I could see why the Sixth had chosen the Bourgeois.

    He must be using the money to buy an army.

    A huge army of people who had unwittingly be followers of the demon.

    Then. Demian asked.

    "Do you think it''s possible to assassinate my brother in less than two hours? He''s not just a man with a lot of money, or else the previous head of the Iron-Blooded family would want him as his adopted son."

    Which meant that Hugo''s father had coveted the current Patriarch of the Bourgeois''s talents.

    Vikir stroked his chin.

    ''Then that means his physical qualities are almost as good as Hugo''s.''

    Much time had passed since then, and now a demon controlled the body.

    After some thought, Vikir nodded.

    "It''s going to be tight, but it''s doable. If you help me with one thing outside the vault."

    "Me? Outside the vault?"

    Demian shrugged.

    He might be a Graduator-level prosecutor, but he wouldn''t be much help in a fight.

    In the first ce, there was a high possibility that he wouldn''t even be able to go into the vault since he was only making dinner and then leaving.

    Moreover, what are they supposed to do outside of the vault, where outside intervention ispletely impossible?

    To a bewildered-looking Demian and Dolores.

    Sigh.

    Vikir pushed aside a sheet of paper with his n.

    "This is the end of the Bourgeois."

    And.

    Realizing what Vikir was trying to do outside the vault, Demian and Dolores spoke at the same time in disbelief.

    "This isn''t about the Bourgeois...."

    "...The entire empire wille to an end?"

 Chapter 281: Power inflation (1)

    <h4>Chapter 281: Power intion (1)</h4>

    One quiet weekend. At sunset.

    A carriage departed from the Colosseo Academy, heading for the Bourgeois Family.

    Dolores. Piggy. Sinir.

    The trio were honored to be hosted and dined by the Bourgeois family, the most prestigious family in the Empire.

    Naturally, Piggy and Sinir were excited.

    "Didn''t our Oracle Club do great this time! 1st ce in mock investmentpetition! And surprisingly, all of this was actually a real rate of return!"

    "And we even hosted a party that was so spectacr it made my eyes roll back in my head. My God, how much did it all cost? I have no idea."

    "Did you hear about the ce we''re going to for dinner tonight? It''s a Bourgeois family vault!"

    "Yeah, I heard that, too. There''s jewelry, gold bars, coins, bills, checks, drafts, real estate titles, art, antiques, all kinds of expensive stuff near the table. They say it goes beyond the mountains."

    "Hiig- that''s a bit of an exaggeration, to say the least. Why would anyone put that stuff there?"

    "If you put your money in a vault, then where else would you put it?"

    "What if someonees in to eat and steals it?"

    "I can''t imagine stealing all that stuff."

    "Oh, yes, that, too, and I wonder if these gifts we have prepared will be part of that pile of treasure, and It would be an honor to do so."

    With that, Piggy looked back at the back of the carriage.

    Therey several treasure chests. A gift for the Patriarch of the Bourgeois Family.

    Sinir looked at these gifts, which had been carefully and painstakingly prepared, and muttered to herself.

    "... I wish my brother could havee with us."

    "What? You mean Vikir? Why all of a sudden?"

    "...Just."

    Sinir replied, flicking her white short hair in the wind.

    "He was supposed toe over to my ce sometime. To eat."

    "?"

    Piggy scratched his head.

    Why was she saying that now?

    Then Sinir smiled bitterly.

    "I just suddenly felt regretful. I think it''s really hard to eat a meal, looking at how busy he''s beentely."

    "Oh, is that what you''re talking about? I agree, it''s hard to eat with Vikir these days. Except for breakfast."

    Piggy went on and on about how busy Vikir was these days.

    But Sinir''s mind was elsewhere as she listened.

    ''Brother. You don''t pay?''

    ''... I have no money.''

    ''Money? Why don''t you have money? You''re an academy student. Don''t you think you''re being too harsh? The poor kids here don''t have parents, and we should help them.''

    ''They don''t need parents.''

    ''Huh?''

    ''They have to deal with the world on their own. Parents are only functional in childhood, when they are essential, but otherwise they are unnecessary.''

    Sinir recall a conversation she had with Vikir many years ago when she was volunteering at a orphanage.

    Meanwhile.

    "...."

    Up front, Dolores was not paying attention to the conversation between Piggy and Sinir behind her.

    All her attention was focused on the treasure chest in the back of the wagon, the gift she would be giving to the Bourgeois patriarch today.

    ''I''m sorry, guys.''

    Unfortunately, the gift sets that Piggy and Sinir had picked and chosen are not in that box.

    They had already been moved elsewhere, and the empty box contained something else entirely.

    Night Hound.

    An assassin lying in ambush for the Bourgeois family patriarch.

    ''The Bourgeois family patriarch said he doesn''t bother searching people when he lets them into the vault.''

    It''s a confidence peculiar to the demon, perhaps.

    An arrogant attitude that no matter what assassinse, they''re just toys.

    But it''s also his weakness.

    ''I must get the kids to bed before the battle begins.''

    Dolores squeezed the vial in her hand.

    It contained a sleeping pill that was harmless to humans.

    When the carriage arrived at the Bourgeois family''s residence, Dolores, Piggy, and Sinir would be escorted to the parlor, where they would wait for dinner.

    Dolores nned to slip the drug into their teacups to put Piggy and Sinir to sleep and then hide it elsewhere.

    ''It would have been best if they hadn''te along in the first ce....''

    But Piggy and Sinir had been looking forward to meeting the Bourgeois family for days, and Bourgeois had invited the entire "Oracle investment circle", so there was no point in going alone.

    Even now, Piggy was making a list of questions to ask the Bourgeois patriarch.

    "I need to ask about the future state of the Empire''s economy, questions about current financial metrics, criteria for finding new business ventures, the recent mergers and acquisitions between the promising small merchant guilds and the mercenary guilds... and if the chaebols eat chicken!"

    "I have questions, too."

    Sinir smiled expectantly.

    Piggy turned to Sinir.

    "Oooh, Sinir, what are you curious about? Do you want to y along with me?"

    "...No. I only have one question."

    Piggy''s eyes widen at Sinir''s answer.

    "Huh? Only one? Only one?"

    "Yes."

    "No,e on, you''re meeting the Empire''s most powerful man, you should learn something, it''s a chance you might not get again in your lifetime!"

    At Piggy''s enthusiasm, Sinir can only give a quick nce.

    Dolores, Piggy, and Sinir.

    Together, but with different thoughts, the trio have arrived at the front door of the Bourgeois family residence.

    "Dinner appointment. The Oracle."

    Dolores announced the purpose of their visit, and the gates opened.

    A carriage led the way to the interior of the ornate mansion.

    Naturally, there were no checkpoints along the road reserved for guests of honor.

    Then. The butler, who was leading the carriage, smiled with an easygoing smile.

    "I''ve been seeing a lot of honorable people from the Quovadistely."

    "Yes? Who else hase from my family?"

    Dolores asked with a puzzled look, and the butler replied in a dignified manner.

    "Yes. A few hours ago, Cardinal Humbert paid us a visit, though he has now returned from his business."

    Dolores felt a chill run down her spine at the mention of the name ''Humbert''.

    ''I hadn''t expected him to be here, but... I''m d to hear he''s back.''

    Dolores feels no holy power in the vicinity, even when she stretches out her senses just in case.

    If Humbert had been here, he could have been a nuisance.

    While she pondered this, the butler escorted everyone into the parlor.

    "Please wait here for a few moments, and I will bring your message in shortly."

    The butler ced a simple tea and refreshments on the table, then opened the door and left.

    Dolores, Piggy, and Sinir began to wait in the parlor.

    "The parlor is very luxurious. It looks expensive, but not extravagant. It has an ancient beauty to it."

    "I see. Good taste."

    Piggy and Sinir make small talk.

    Rattling...

    Dolores was fidgeting with her hands.

    ''Soo, I need to put some sleeping pills in it.''

    The worst thing she''d ever done in her life.

    The very idea of putting something in someone else''s food was new to her.

    And then.

    Dolores seeded in slipping the sleeping pills into the teacups while Piggy and Sinir were looking away.

    Without thinking, Piggy and Sinir drank the tea and soon began to doze off.

    "Mmmm. Don''t you feel a little sleepy?"

    "Yeah, it''s dinner time...."

    Dolores turned to Piggy and Sinir and said in a shaky voice.

    "Hey, hey, hey,... no, guys, if you''re tired, keep your eyes closed for a while and I''ll wake you up."

    "Oh, can you do that?"

    "Thanks!"

    To their relief, Piggy and Sinir leaned back against the couch in the parlor and closed their eyes without question.

    "Hey, is it supposed to be potent?"

    Dolores waved her hand in front of Piggy and Sinir''s eyes.

    As expected, they didn''t stir.

    Dolores breathed a sigh of relief and stepped out of the room to wipe off the sweat.

    Then she ran into the butler again, who wasing this way.

    "Ah, mydy. My lord has been busy, so I''m a littlete, but I''m sure he''ll be ready soon."

    "Yes! By the way, Butler, I thought my friends who came with me would have to go back due to an unexpected incident..."

    "What? Before the meeting? No matter howte you''ve prepared... , shall we cancel the meeting and postpone it to another time?"

    "No, no, no, you don''t have to do that, I''ll just see him alone as the head of the club."

    The butler shook his head, but somehow seemed to be convinced.

    A little after the appointed time.

    Dolores packed the gifts into a cart and headed deeper into the main building with a small attendant.

    After walking for a while, the vault in question came into view.

    It was like an entrance to a great za.

    "My lord is waiting for you."

    The butler bowed respectfully, then opened the door.

    It was dark and cold inside.

    The attendants stowed the carts of gifts Dolores had brought inside, then showed her inside.

    And then. All the attendants bowed and slowly slipped out the back door.

    Dolores was left alone in the vast darkness of the vault.

    "...Uh, excuse me. My lord?"

    Dolores cautiously opened her mouth.

    ...Pas!

    Suddenly, the room was filled with light.

    At the same time, Dolores couldn''t help but open her mouth.

    A magnificent golden incense. A blinding golden light.

    A world of great wealth was weing her.

 Chapter 282: Power inflation (2)

    <h4>Chapter 282: Power intion (2)</h4>

    Countless candles were lit in unison.

    The dripping candle wax ran down the pile of gold coins beneath them and hardened into a solid mass.

    "...Oh my god."

    Dolores looked around at her illuminated surroundings and opened her mouth.

    The vault''s vast world could be summarized in one word.

    Wealth.

    Something that vaguely transcended the average human''s imagination of how wealthy a human could be.

    Gold coins, ingots, jewelry, and other things of value rolled down hills and formed great mountains that rose steadily beyond them, forming mountain ranges.

    On the ceiling, stctite-like formations dripped down, and they, too, were made of gold and jewels.

    Countless golden goblets and swords, crowns, nes, earrings, rings, brooches, costly antiques, jewelry so brilliant and sparkling that it blinded the eye, countless documents and papers proving property rights, works of art of incredible value, bottles of extremely rare liquors, and so much morey littered everywhere.

    The wealth is so overwhelming that anyone can''t even begin to fathom where it''sing from.

    The whole world is a brilliant golden fragrance with five colors based on gold.

    Not even the golden city on the pages of a mythological book, nor the hidden fortune of a pirate king, whose legend is told through the mouths of elderly men, can match this splendor, grandeur, and luxury!

    "...It''s a different world."

    Dolores felt her spirits drop slightly.

    Although she usually ced no value on wealth, she couldn''t help but be intimidated by a wealth of this magnitude.

    It was no longer mere wealth, but the majesty and holiness of Mother Nature itself.

    ''It is because there are so many one-day puppies who don''t know how to behave, and some of them are so eager to show off their wealth with a foolish desire to win. I wonder if it is to kill their spirit beforehand.''

    Dolores understood fully what Demian had said.

    In this wide world, are there one or two frogs in a well who have made a fortune?

    The Bourgeois family, who is said to be at the peak of wealth, will constantly attract a swarm of flies topare themselves with the Patriach.

    It would certainly be efficient to get rid of such nuisances by showing them this view and letting them crawl away on their own.

    Then.

    "...!"

    Walking among the piles of gold, Dolores could now see into the depths of the vault.

    At the end of the dazzling and dizzying array of gold and silver treasures, she could see a magnificent mound rising up.

    A mountain of gold coins, and a staircase.

    At the top was arge table, carved entirely from ivory.

    And a man sitting across from the table, candlelight flickering in the shadows, greeting her.

    "Wee, holy woman. Or rather, the Oracle''s representative."

    A face with long white hair and a full beard, gentle eyes and a stern mouth.

    ''Bartolomeo J Bourgeois,'' the patriarch of the Bourgeois family, was waving his hand in her direction.

    * * *

    "You are very resourceful."

    Bartolomeo had said this when the dinner had just begun.

    Dolores looked up and Bartolomeo smiled.

    "I''ve seen your investments this time. It must have been difficult for you to invest so much money in such a risky investment, but I can learn from your boldness."

    "Because I believed in the business idea of someone named Cindiwendy."

    Dolores answered as Night Hound had told her to.

    Hearing her answer, Bartolomeo nodded.

    "Cindiwendy. A young businessman who is making quite a name for herself in the west. I have often admired her skill in dealing with the barbarians of the western jungles, but her fame has not yet spread to the business circles of the Imperial City, and not many have recognized her. Our saint''s eyesight is unusual, I see. You have great years of experience."

    "Years? I''m just a teenager with a lot to learn."

    "Age has nothing to do with it. I have made many preparations, many challenges, and many failures in my life. Preparation, challenge, and failure. These three things are woven together to form a single thread called age."

    Bartolomeo repeatedly praised Dolores in a tone full of goodwill.

    "If you''ve proven yourself by aplishing this much, what if you''re a year older, what if you''re a hundred years older? You have every right to be proud, no matter where you came from, if you''ve traveled a long way, you have every right to be proud, but if you''reining and haven''t taken a single step from the starting line, you have no right toin."

    What if the person sitting in front of him was an ordinary student at Colosseo Academy?

    It would have been easy to be overwhelmed by all the praise, encouragement, recognition, and respect that the world''s number one man was so generously giving.

    The feeling of pride and pleasure when hard work is recognized.

    It is the demon''s tongue that pierces through the cracks in the heart that it has opened.

    ''Night Hound says that among them all, the 6th is especially skilled in speech.''

    Dolores looked at Bartolomeo before her.

    A handsome gentleman. A soft voice. A favorable ent. And words of praise that sounded genuine.

    But Dolores was not fooled by these things.

    Partly because of her mental strength, but mostly because her investment performance was not her own doing.

    She''s not particrly happy to be praised for something she didn''t do.

    "You''re too kind."

    Dolores forced a smile.

    And Bartolomeo seems to have misunderstood a little bit from her lukewarm response.

    "Hmm. I''m sorry to hear about Guilty."

    "...?"

    Dolores tilted her head in question, and Bartolomeo gave her a look that made him feel terribly sorry for her.

    "Come to think of it, the saint belongs to the New Testament."

    "...."

    "I am acquainted with the priests of the Old Testament."

    Apparently, Bartolomeo assumed that Dolores was a member of the New Testament, and was dissatisfied with him for being friendly with the priests of the Old Testament.

    Bartolomeo offered a non-excuse.

    "But if you are afraid to distance yourself from me because of that, I am sorry for you. I am friendly with the priests of the Old Testament, as you think."

    "...."

    "But I want to be friendly with the New Testament as well, and I just can''t do that because they belittle and denigrate me, my bond with the Old Testament, and the wealth we are umting as inhuman, dirty, ugly, and undesirable."

    Bartolomeo said as he sliced through the bleeding meat with his knife.

    "The truth is, ''wealth'' is colorless, odorless, tasteless, shapeless, tasteless, scentless, and It''s extremely value-neutral. If you use it well, it is good, and if you use it badly, it is bad."

    "...."

    "It''s like how a fire can burn down a mountain, but it can also save a dying match girl in a winter alley."

    "...."

    "Those who treat it as a bad thing are just losers who have never touched big money in their lives. Either that, or they''ve been brainwashed by the vested interests who made their fortunes by controlling the order of this society in the first ce."

    As he concluded, Bartolomeo added briefly.

    "If you do great good with great money, that''s something, too, so don''t hate the Old Testament so much."

    Dolores was used to hearing this logic.

    It was the kind of logic her stepfather, Humbert, used to preach.

    "...."

    Dolores nced at the hourss ced at the edge of the table.

    Time had already passed.

    Dolores counted the seconds in her mind and opened her mouth.

    "A lot of money for a lot of good, I hope it goes as you said."

    "It is. Hahaha-"

    Bartolomeoughed pleasantly, pleased that Dolores had agreed with him.

    He took a slice of the meat on his te, stuffed it into his mouth, and chewed.

    "More than that, saint, why are you not eating, is it not to your taste, do you not like meat?"

    "No. It must be good meat, seeing as how patriarch enjoyed it so much."

    "Of course I do. It is the finest meat. I am particrly sensitive to the quality of meat. Eat slowly. There''s still plenty of time."

    At Bartolomeo''s gesture for the meat, Dolores responded with a gentle smile.

    "I''m sorry, sir. I''m not a fan of human flesh."

    "...!"

    For a moment, Bartolomeo''s hand stopped.

    He slowly raised his head and looked at Dolores.

    "Hohoho. You''re joking too much, saint. Are you implying that this meat is the result of the exploitation of the blood and flesh of the lower sses? If so, I take back what I said earlier...."

    "No, no. I meant human meat, and I knew it."

    " ...What?"

    Bartolomeo asked, and the smile faded from Dolores'' face.

    She answered in a hard tone.

    "That Bartolomeo, the patriarch of the Bourgeois, is not only acquainted with the Old Testament of the Quovadis, but is intent on swallowing them whole."

    "Hohoho-"

    "And to that end, he has been nurturing numerous heresies and cults,ying the groundwork to shake the Quovadis to its very foundations."

    "Hohoho-"

    "And that Bartolomeo, the beast behind it all, is actually the demon himself."

    "...!"

    Even Bartolomeo couldn''t help butugh at Dolores''st words.

    Then.

    "Hohohoho-keuhahahaha!"

    Bartolomeo, who had beenughing lowly, began tough loudly.

    The sound was so loud that it resonated with the simultaneous clinking of countless gold coins that formed a mountain around them.

    Dolores asked in a voice that never wavered.

    "Aren''t you afraid, a visitor who knows your identity?"

    "Scared? Of course not."

    Bartolomeo looked at Dolores with a grin on his face, a look of amusement on his face.

    "Is there anyone in this world who can scare me?"

    Madness. The confidence of a demon. A man who had done great evil with great money.

    An overwhelming force rushed through Dolores, squeezing her entire body.

    ...then.

    paas-

    There was something else, something that scattered the pressure on Dolores'' body.

    On the other side of the table, on a mountain of gold coins, the red light of a candle flickers.

    It was the same ce where Bartolomeo turned his head with a grim expression and Dolores turned her head with a bright one.

    "Here it is."

    Night Hounds.

    The Demon Hunter, who had been through countless hells, reeked of blood.

 Chapter 283: Power inflation (3)

    <h4>Chapter 283: Power intion (3)</h4>

    "Is there anyone in this world who can scare me?"

    As the Great Evil raises its head and views the world.

    "Here I am."

    The pilgrim raised his hand and answered.

    At the same time. Dolores felt her body, which had been about to be crushed, suddenly lighten.

    The pilgrim. Night Hound.

    Vikir stared at Bartolomeo.

    "...!"

    Bartolomeo felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

    Jzzzzz!

    As he tilted his neck back, a crimson sh flew out and split the mountain of gold coins behind him diagonally.

    Sssssshhhhh, tter, tter, tter, tter!

    The torn and crumpled gold coins crumble to the ground with a loud tter.

    "...Oho."

    Bartolomeo rubbed the ck blood flowing lightly down his cheek with his thumb.

    He straightened his stance and asked in a hard voice.

    "Are you Night Hound, the one who killed Guilty the other day?"

    "Not Guilty, exactly, but the 9th corpse, Dantalian, the Thousand Faces."

    At the mention of the name Dantalian, Bartolomeo''s expression tightened and loosened for a split second.

    "...The 9th what? The Thousand Faces? What is Dantalian? You''re talking about something I don''t understand."

    He tried to y it off, but once the demon hunter had gotten this far, there was no escaping the situation.

    "Andromalius, ''Inferior Second Son''. Dantalian, ''Thousand Faces''. ''King of the Undead, '' Seere. ''Wall of Wailing,'' Decarabia. I took them all away. Do you understand now?"

    "...."

    At Vikir''s words, Bartolomeo fell silent.

    There is no need to show off to someone who knows everything.

    Slurp-

    With that, he pulled out a sword that was haphazardly buried in a pile of gold coins.

    Bartolomeo stared at the red sword that extended a meter below Vikir''s wrist.

    "Maybe should I use a sword?"

    "...."

    "I''m here."

    Bartolomeo smirked and held up the sword.

    Vikir recognized it at a nce for what it was.

    A ck edge. A blue gemstone that glowed grimly at the end of the golden handle. A longsword with a golden cord hanging down.

    Balmung.

    Also known as ''Balmung of the Deep Sea'' or ''Balmung of Bahamut''.

    That is one of the magic swords that have been handed down from ancient times to the Iron Blood Swordsman Baskerville.

    Sharp enough to cut through steel with a mere touch.

    However, it is a fearsome sword with a legend that it corrupts those who wield it and turns them into tyrants.

    It once belonged to the Nibelungen family, renowned for their mastery of the sword during the Warring States Period, and became a sacred object of the rival Bahamut family. After the Bahamut family merged with the Baskerville family, it would have been stored in the deepest part of the Baskerville family''s armory.

    ''...Why is it here?''

    Vikir was puzzled for a moment.

    But the question was soon answered. Bartolomeo spoke first.

    "In his youth, this body was a very promising swordsman. So much so that the previous Lord of Baskerville, was so impressed with my talent that he gave me this sword as a gift to be his apprentice."

    "...."

    "You''re pointing a sword at this body like that? Hehehe, well."

    Bartolomeo tilted his feet sideways and stood in front of Vikir.

    And.

    Fit-

    He leaped up with tremendous speed andnded on top of Vikir''s body.

    Boom!

    Sword and sword. Bartolomeo and Vikir''s auras collided in midair.

    The impact shattered the jewelry and gold coins around them into dust and shards, which soon turned into a dense mist that spread in all directions.

    ...Boom!

    Two shadows crossed over the two half-copsed hills of gold coins.

    Bartolomeo and Vikir each shifted to where the other had been standing.

    It was Bartolomeo who flinched first.

    blugh-

    Dark blood dripped from his nose and mouth.

    In his youth, Bartolomeo''s body wasparable to that of Hugo the Ironblood Swordman''s patriarch.

    But much time has passed.

    His untrained body has grown old, and rust has set in on the qualities that once shone so brightly.

    "...But."

    The corners of Bartolomeo''s mouth twitched.

    "Form may be temporary, but ss is eternal."

    At the same time.

    Plugh-

    A fountain of red blood erupted from Vikir''s waist.

    Clearly, Bartolomeo''s counterattack had been effective.

    The sharp sword edge of the Magic Sword Balmung had pierced through the protection of the Styx River and the regenerative powers of the Danger Rank S Monster Basilisk.

    Vikir was forced to retreat with a wound so deep that his internal organs were visible.

    ... Thud! ... Thud! ... Thud!

    Hot blood drops stain the cold, golden soil red.

    Bartolomeo frowned at Vikir.

    "Financial rtionships are give and take, aren''t they? I''m the kind of person who doesn''t take on debt, so I always pay it back right away."

    "...."

    "You know what they say, there''s no such thing as a free lunch. Everything has a cost, a consequence, a bnce of totals. Some things you seem to get for free, some things you seem to lose because you''re down on your luck, all end up costing you something in the end... hmm?"

    Bartolomeo paused before speaking.

    When he did, Vikir said briefly.

    "I agree."

    At the same time.

    ...Puff, puff, puff!

    Fountains of blood gushed out of Bartolomeo''s body with tremendous force.

    "Huh?"

    He had been so sharply impaled that he hadn''t even realized that his body had been wounded.

    The hound''s teeth were indeed sharp. So sharp, in fact, that blood bledzily from the wounds they dug.

    Bartolomeo staggered back.

    "Hehehe... This is such a clich�� scene."

    "You should be ashamed of yourself if you didn''t realize you were cut."

    Vikir remembered a time before the regression.

    Of all therades he had shared countless battlefields with, there were a few who were exceptionally skilled with a sword.

    Their swords were so fast and sharp that after a sh, blood would only drain after a few steps.

    One time, he made a small cut on his thigh during a tournament and was puzzled that it didn''t bleed, but when he walked back to his quarters after the tournament, a fistful of flesh fell off and a fountain of blood gushed out.

    That happened even when he wasn''t using his aura.

    Vikir had been training in the Academy''s Gravity Chamber for quite some time now to reach such a state, and it was paying off in a significant way at this moment.

    ...Snap!

    Finished with his thoughts, Vikir swiped his magic sword, Beelzebub.

    Despite colliding with the legendary magic sword Balmung, Beelzebub did not even receive the slightest scratch.

    No wonder. The sword was forged from the remains of an ancient demon who had long ago ruled the demon world a long time ago.

    Instead, Balmung over there just screams.

    "Die now."

    Vikir imbued the sword with an aura.

    Swordmaster.

    The solid aura stretches out, creating a sh of ridiculous size.

    Swash! Swash! Swash! Swash! Swash! Swash! Swash! Swash!

    The Eight Forms of Baskerville.

    Thanks to his encounter with CaneCorso in the Grave of Swords, Vikir has learned to summon the Eight Teeth.

    Dolores, meanwhile, was stunned.

    ''...You''re even stronger than thest time I saw you!''

    When they met in the orphanage, Night Hound had only managed to use six of those strikes.

    It was only when she awakened and buffed him that he managed to use the seventh and y Dantalian.

    Although she doesn''t know what kind of swordsmanship it is that is moving so strangely now..., what she does know is that Night Hound has be much stronger than before Dantalian.

    "Kughh!"

    Bartolomeo twisted his body and stepped back.

    But with Madame''s poison already in his blood, he didn''t get very far, slipping under a pile of gold coins.

    "Die."

    Vikir plunged the sword deep into Bartolomeo''s abdomen.

    Phuuk-

    Bartolomeo held Vikir''s arm tightly even as blood spurted out.

    "You think you''re going to get away with this? As soon as the vault doors open, my men will be here. And I''ll call the Imperial Guard...."

    At that time.

    Szzzz.

    A white light descended from above and enveloped Vikir and Bartolomeo.

    While the wounds on Vikir''s body quickly closed.

    "Kuahhhh!"

    The wounds on Bartolomeo''s body began to grow worse and worse.

    It was like being set on fire.

    "Do you think people will believe you after seeing this?"

    Dolores stood on a mountain of gold coins, radiating white light.

    She was holding up the Mirror of Truth, the prize for winning the University League, to Bartolomeo.

    In the small mirror, Bartolomeo''s true form was clearly visible.

    An infinity deep and infinity ck evil. That''s its true nature.

    "...!"

    Vikir quickly turned and walked away from the mirror.

    Dolores didn''t bother trying to figure out who Night Hound was.

    And then. Bartolomeo began tough.

    "Hohohoho... Indeed, you''ve prepared a lot."

    The screams of agony from a moment ago were nowhere to be seen.

    Vikir retrieved his sword and backed away.

    Dzzzzzzzzzzz....

    A ck aura enveloped Bartolomeo''s entire body, lifting him into the air.

    Decarabia, on Vikir''s chest, warned in a gravelly voice.

    [The y is over, the 6th Corpse is about to show its true colors].

    "I know it when I see it."

    Vikir pressed Decarabia back into his chest.

    Then.

    The 6th Demon King descended upon the golden hill in front of Dolores and Vikir, who looked uneasy and nonchnt.

    Danger Rating : S

    Size : ?

    Found in: Deep within the Gate of Destruction, ''Serpent''s Womb''

    -Nicknamed the Sixth Corpse.

    One of the Ten gues, natural enemies of mankind, iprehensible and unkible.

    "Your body and your barns will boil with lice."

    �C ��Ten Commandments�� 10: Top �C

    Belial, lord of greed and lies.

    He was the 6th leading figure in the Age of Destruction.

 Chapter 284: Power inflation (4)

    <h4>Chapter 284: Power intion (4)</h4>

    Belial.

    ''The worthless one''. The Sixth. The sixth of the ten demons who descended to destroy mankind.

    An ambitious man who teamed up with 9th Corpse Dantalian to consume both the Quovadis and the Bourgeois.

    Atst he showed his true colors.

    ''The most beautiful being among those expelled from heaven.''

    He decorate the outside with extravagant decorations and shy wealth, but in reality, the appearance behind it is extremely ugly.

    The horns of a mountain goat on the head of a giant pig, teeth as sharp as swords beneath gums exposed by the absence of lips.

    Eyes glowing with fire, eyes that billow like the smoke of a beacon, and breath that reeks of disgust.

    His mouth gaped like a crevasse on an arctic ice wall, and his horns and wings spread out to either side,rge enough to cover the entire battlefield.

    This gigantic and hideous figure, floating like a white mist above the puppet-like body of Bartolomeo, was the true form of Belial.

    ...Czssss!

    Vikir lifted his magic sword, Beelzebub.

    ''I''m d I met him before he formed an army.''

    Deception, distraction, incitement, disorientation. Belial''s talents are especially valuable inrge-scale battles.

    As such, the best way to hunt him down is to fight him one-on-one.

    Meanwhile, on Vikir''s chest, Decarabia continues to offer advice.

    [It''s been a while since I''ve seen you, that guy. The name ''Belial'' means ''worthless'' in the deadnguage of an old magic monarchy that is now extinct.]

    [hack-hack-hack-]

    The cub stood upright, fur all over her body, and clung to Vikir''s shoulder.

    Judging by the way her bushy eyebrows were arched upward, she seemed to regard her master''s enemy as her own enemy.

    "Saint,e here."

    Vikir motioned Dolores to stand behind him.

    Dolores cautiously moved toward Vikir.

    Then. Belial''s mouth opened.

    He looked straight at Dolores.

    [When the priests renounced God and turned into a group of sphemers, no one was worshiped as often as this body in temples and altars.]

    A mocking tone.

    True to his word, Belial had already absorbed nearly half of the Faithful Quovadis.

    ''...Humbert.''

    Dolores gritted her teeth.

    Did Cardinal Humbert of the Quovadis know that Bartolomeo was actually Belial?

    Even though he knew that, did he conspire with Belial and make the family fall into disrepute?

    Dolores shuddered, remembering her stepfather''s unpleasant nce.

    Humbert was human, sure, but he was more terrifying to her than a demon.

    Just then.

    "You have nothing to fear."

    A voice said in a nonchnt tone.

    Dolores turned her head to see Night Hound standing steadfastly by her side.

    For a moment, Dolores remembered the time before Dantalian.

    ''...Yes, I was like that then.''

    When Dantalian had turned over the grotesque sack and pulled the vision of Humbert from within, Dolores had been momentarily overwhelmed with a sense of suffocating fear and pressure.

    And then.

    ''Nothing to be afraid of.''

    Even then, Night Hound''s words of encouragement were enough to put all her fears to rest and give her peace of mind.

    "Thank you, Night Hound!"

    Dolores murmured in prayer, clinging to Vikir''s back.

    As Belial drew upon his demonic powers and prepared to attack, Dolores chanted as well.

    "Lord Lun is a strong castle, a shield and weapons; he will save us from great trouble!"

    Passs-

    White light burst forth like mes and enveloped Vikir.

    It burned with fierce intensity, but did not feel hot at all to Vikir.

    "The old enemy, the demon, is using his strength even at this time, using plots and power as his weapons. Who in the world can stand against him? If I rely only on my own strength, I have no choice but to be defeated. A powerful generales out and fights on my behalf. Who is this general? That holy name..."

    For a moment, Dolores paused in her chanting.

    After some hesitation, she continued.

    "...''Night Hound''! Pilgrim of the Lun, Lord of hosts! Who will suffer? I will definitely win!"

    When Dolores had finished, she ced her trembling hands on Vikir''s back.

    Then she spoke in a voice that trembled even more than her hands.

    "I think the buff would work better if I knew the real name of Night Hound here...."

    Names have power.

    The mere act of being called affects cause and effect, generating strange energies that cross over into the negative and positive dimensions.

    For this reason, demons do not reveal their true names lightly.

    Nor do the demon hunters who hunt them.

    "This is enough."

    But Vikir interrupted Dolores.

    It was partly to prevent her from bing even more entangled with him by giving him a name, but it was more for another reason.

    Swash swash swash swash!

    Belial began to attack in earnest.

    Belial''s body, which was somewhere between intangible and tangible, was clearly giving off both spiritual and physical impacts at the same time.

    [How dare you insignificant humans!]

    Belial spat out arrogant lines, as demons are supposed to do.

    But Vikir is a skilled hunter, having in four demons so far.

    "It''s going to be a little shaky."

    Vikir says to Dolores, who ces a hand on his back.

    Before Dolores could reply.

    ...a sh!

    Vikir''s sword began to emit a crimson aura.

    Spinning at high speed, the aura formed sevenrge teeth and an eighth, slightly smaller tooth.

    The teeth moved furiously, spinning like wagon wheels as they flew toward Belial''s body and embedded themselves in it.

    Quack, quack, quack, quack, quack, quack, quack, quack!

    Baskerville''s Eighth Form.

    A blow that turned the body of Bartolomeo, one of the strongest in the human world, into a rag in an instant.

    It contained a level of power that even a full-bodied Belial would not dare to underestimate.

    [Grrr! How could a human possess such power...!?]

    Belial took a step back in bewilderment.

    Vikir was not about to let this opportunity he had been forced to create slip away.

    ''If there''s no gap, I''ll twist it open with force.''

    Eight teeth were tearing at Belial''s entire body without releasing.

    Furthermore, the buffs that Dolores unleashed with all her might made Vikir''s 8th tooth grow evenrger.

    ...Dzzzz!

    Belial''s teeth and horns shattered.

    His armor, once so ornate and fleshy, cracked and shattered to pieces.

    Worst of all, Bartolomeo''s body didn''t seem to be holding up.

    ''My eight tooth is iplete. I must settle this in a short time!''

    Vikir gritted his teeth and pushed forward.

    In his mind, he reyed Hugo''s ying of Andromalius and CaneCorso''s blow that had shaken the entire Grave of Swords.

    And behind him, the power of Dolores''s buffs washed over him like a tidal wave!

    ...sh!

    Vikir ignored the pressure on his body and pushed Beelzebub all the way down.

    Ku-kung!

    A massive tremor ripples through the air, shattering the mountains of gold coins around it.

    [Grrrr... Kuaghhh!]

    Belial staggered back, every inch of his body destroyed.

    Vikir raised his sword once more, receiving a heal from Dolores.

    It was then that Dolores spoke with a pitying tone.

    "...The buff isn''t as good as it was in the Dantalian battle."

    She seemed deeply disappointed in herck of power.

    That''s because the power of the buff has be iparably weaker than when hunting Dantalian at the orphanage.

    "I''ve been working on myself a lot since then... and I feel like I''ve degenerated."

    But Vikir thought that was to be expected.

    ''Awakening doesn''te that easily.''

    Dolores''s demonstration of divinity before Dantalian was a "miracle," one that advanced her understanding of divine power by decades.

    The exact cause and conditions of her awakening were unknown, but progress was never made by relying on such luck in the first ce.

    Vikir continued to swing his sword, pressuring Belial.

    Just then.

    [...Hohohoho. Indeed. Killing my colleagues wasn''t just luck.]

    Belial pushed himself up.

    Surprisingly, while our eyes were apart for a moment, Belial had recovered from most of his wounds and damage.

    "...!"

    Vikir swung his strike once more.

    Zzzzzzzzzz-

    It once again carved a deep scar into Belial''s chest armor.

    [Hohohoho... It''s no use, human, you lowly creature].

    But Belial was not intimidated at all.

    Soon, he stretched out his tworge hands to both sides.

    Then something unpleasant began to happen.

    ng, ng, ng, ng, ng, ng, ng, ng, ng, ng.

    A loud metallic ng could be heard everywhere.

    When Dolores turns her head in surprise, she sees a golden stream flowing.

    Clink-clink-clink-clink-clink...

    The sound of money moving.

    Countless gold coins rippled on the ground, crawling like giant snakes.

    The gold coins, jewelry, and other treasures were then absorbed into Belial''s body.

    Druszt! Thud! Kwazizik!

    Belial''s broken horns grew back, and his cracked body was restored to its original form.

    What''s more, his already massive body grew evenrger.

    [All the riches in this vault are my life force! Money is power! Money is life! In a world dominated by mammonism, wealth is vitality!]

    Dolores was stunned.

    Such a vast amount of riches in such a vast vault.

    Belial''s n to store all of these as extra vitality was truly meticulous and thorough.

    Only then did Dolores understand why Belial always dragged outsiders into the vault.

    It wasn''t just to kill the spirit of his visitors.

    Because this is his ''home ground'' where he can exercise absolute authority, power, and vitality!

    ... But.

    "I already knew that."

    Vikir said in a nonchnt tone, causing Belial''s face to crumple.

    ...Crunch!

    The magic sword Beelzebub lengthened a bit more.

    The crimson aura beneath the hem of his ck coat began to re once more.

    Eventually, the light from the red eyes condenses on the ck mask and glows dimly.

    "If money is your life...."

    A boiling voice breaks through the hound''s sharp teeth.

    "I''ll bankrupt youpletely."

    It was a deration of war to the ruler of the vast golden realm.

 Chapter 285: Power inflation (5)

    <h4>Chapter 285: Power intion (5)</h4>

    [Gahahahahahaha-]

    Belialughed, his mouth open so wide that his lower jaw sank into his chest.

    It was a mockery so loud that the golden mountains around him crumbled.

    [Bankruptcy? Is that really what you''re saying in the face of my wealth?]

    Mountains and mountains of gold, jewelry, and other priceless treasures.

    Each time Belial is wounded, he draws upon these treasures to restore his vitality.

    These treasures fill nearly half of the vast vault, and as long as they are there, Belial will live forever.

    Decarabia on Vikir''s chest, blinked his single eye, said.

    [Belial is a weak demon when he has no money, but a powerful demon when he has a lot of money. It''s not so strange to humans, isn''t it? There''s a saying in human society: ''Money brings in demons''. The same logic applies in the demonic world].

    "It''s a nuisance ability."

    [It''s not a nuisance. As I said before....]

    Decarabia began to list Belial''s powers.

    [Belial''s main powers are ''Jealousy'', ''Destruction'', ''Oppression'', ''Exile'', ''Famine'', ''Disturbance'', and ''Destion''].

    Jealousy, which disrupts the enemy''s vision with a dark aura emanating from his body; Destruction, which reces gold power with muscle power and unleashes it with his fists; Exile, which blocks the enemy''s movement and keeps them away at a distance with a vortex of gold coins; Famine, which scatters them and gnaws away at the opponent''s gold; Disturbance, which emits powerful waves from his mouth; and Destion, which devastates the surroundings with its enormous weight....

    Kuoooooooooooo!

    Vikir had to retreat again and again to avoid the power of destruction swirling everywhere.

    at that time.

    Whiss-

    Dolores hugged Vikir hard from behind.

    Vikir looked back and tried to say something, but Dolores'' shout was faster.

    "Dodge, Night Hound!"

    As Vikir fell to the ground, Dolores fell on top of him.

    At the same time.

    ... Quack-quack-quack-quack-quack! Jzzzzzzz!

    Belial''s fist narrowly missed, smashing the gold coin hill on the other side and copsing it.

    Then.

    "Kyaaah!"

    Dolores, who was attacked by Belial, began to scream.

    ''Destruction'' was avoided, but ''Famine'' could not be avoided.

    Dzzzzzzzzzzz...

    Everything made of gold, including buttons, pins, and gold thread, attached to her luxurious nun''s clothes turned into crumbs and were sucked into Belial''s body.

    This is Famine, Belial''s ability to rob and suck out all the wealth of others and use it for his own power.

    It dries up the other person''s wealth, no matter how much they have.

    Then, as the buttons, pins, and gold threads disappeared, the garment lost its shape and fell apart.

    Dolores was horrified.

    The nun''s clothes, which had not been exposed at all, were torn in several ces, exposing her bare skin.

    ''Wha, Night Hound is watching!''

    Her face and ears were redder than ever.

    ... However, Dolores''s suffering did not end there.

    [Your body and your barns will boil with lice.]

    Belial''s famine powers don''t just take away the wealth of others.

    It is said that health is the most valuable thing, and the body is an asset.

    The ability to devour an opponent''s wealth, but also their body and blood.

    That''s the nature of the ugly power that Belial wields.

    Gurgle, gurgle, gurgle...

    Soon, they started crawling on Dolores'' body.

    The white bloodsuckers burrowed into every inch of her white, soft skin, sucking out blood with their sharp teeth.

    "Ugh, ouch!"

    Dolores couldn''t help but scratch all over her body with her hands without realizing it.

    Her expression is grim.

    The sight of Dolores desperately holding on to her flowing clothes with one hand and scratching various parts of her body with the other made Vikir think, even if only for a moment.

    ''Grotesque.''

    Dolores eximed as Vikir stood still, speechless for a moment.

    "I mean, it''s not fair, I bathe and shower every day, obviously, so why do I have lice...!"

    "I see, for now."

    "Now, wait! What do you mean, for now? What does that mean?"

    Vikir neatly ignored Dolores''s excuses as she cried out in embarrassment and frustration.

    Dolores was trying to defend against Belial''s attack and ended up in that shape, so of course he should help her.

    ''You go help her.''

    Vikir called to his friend on his shoulder.

    [Hack!]

    Little Madame. The little creature arched a bushy eyebrow and struck a salute pose.

    The trusty little fellow bounced across the floor with a snap and clung to Dolores''s back.

    And then,

    KOOOOOOO!

    It began to exude its pride as an absolute leader standing at the pinnacle of the insect ecosystem.

    Shivering...

    Spiders. The natural enemy.

    In front of that fearsome peer, they began to tremble and escape from Dolores'' body.

    Even though it was in front of Belial, the orders of the Madame race were absolute.

    At least in the insect world.

    ''The Madame of Eightlegs was a force to be reckoned with, even by the high ranking demons of demon king level....''

    Vikir nodded,

    ''Although she is young, she certainly has the qualities of a Monster King.''

    If she is raised well, she will be a great help in the fight against demons in the future.

    Meanwhile.

    ...Bang! ...BANG! ...DZZZZZZ!

    Belial was on a rampage, using up all of his tremendous funds and strength.

    [Hahahahaha! Guilty if you don''t have money, no guilty if you have money! Who can stand against this boundless power of money!]

    The vast vault is full of riches.

    Belial gazed at the golden horizon of the mountain range and eximed as if drunk.

    [When this vault is full, I''ll be able to open the Gate all by myself! I don''t need those generouspanions!]

    Belial did not hesitate to spheme the other Ten Commandments.

    He was extremely self-righteous and equally strong.

    Money. The value of money, to be precise. Or more urately, the greed of men for money.

    Money is important because it has value, and value is human greed.

    As long as there is greed in the human world, Belial''s power is limitless and its potential for growth is limitless.

    How much wealth and how much greed has Belial umted while wearing the mask of the Bourgeois family patriarch?

    [Die, insects!]

    Belial seeds in cornering Vikir in the vault and swings his massive fist.

    Boom!

    It was as if a meteorite was falling.

    The only difference was that its tail burned ck instead of red.

    Just then.

    "There is a demon in thisnd, trying to devour us!"

    Dolores stepped in front of Vikir once more.

    "Do not be afraid, stand, and with truth you shall win! Rtives, riches, honor, and life may be taken from you, but the truth shall live, and the kingdom willst forever! Lun!"

    White mes rose and formed a wall.

    Rumbling, boom!

    The firewall of holy fire knocked Belial''s fist back as soon as it touched.

    Chiiiiiiiizzzzz...

    Soon, the ultra-high temperature burning white light began to burn Belial''s fist.

    [...Kughh!]

    Belial, who had been pushing forward in a ferocious manner, stepped back, though only slightly.

    Belial''s power had been neutralized by the pure me, whichcked even a hint of greed.

    But. With his fist drawn back, Belial''s cunning tongue began to tease.

    [Saint. What did I tell you, money is not a bad thing?]

    Suddenly, Dolores'' mind shed back to the words Belial had once put into Bartolomeo''s mouth.

    ''In fact, wealth is a colorless, scentless, tasteless thing. It has no form, no taste, no scent. It''s extremely value-neutral. It''s good when it''s used for good and bad when it''s used for bad. It''s like a fire that can burn a whole mountain, but it can also save a dying little match girl in a winter alley.''

    At the same time. Belial grinned, twisting his gruesome mouth even more hideously.

    [That''s right, money is neither right nor wrong, it''s value-neutral].

    With that, Belial stretched out his massive fists and mmed his palms into the ground.

    ... Grack, zizizizizi!

    With that, Belial clutched an enormous amount of gold coins in his hands.

    [So your shields against the bad things will be useless, eh?]

    Dolores broke out in a cold sweat at the sight of Belial''s massive, surging hand.

    And then.

    ng, ng, ng!

    An enormous amount of gold coins began to fly down.

    Each piece of money contains enough destructive power to pierce several people.

    They tear apart the saint''s defense shield so easily and dig deep into it.

    ''Oh no, the Wall of Holy Fire has low physical defense!''

    Dolores stumbled back in panic.

    But it was impossible to escape the shower of gold coins that rained down over a vast area.

    And then.

    ng, ng, ng!

    The entire area was devastated. The hills of gold copsed and thendscape changed dramatically.

    The smoke of gold dust fluttering in the air.

    ...But.

    [Hmm!?]

    Belial hadn''t gotten what he wanted.

    Vikir stands tall, holding Dolores, whose legs are weak, with a mesmerized expression.

    Floating in front of Vikir is a translucent red inverted pentagram shield.

    The Wailing Wall.

    [...It''s been a while, Belial.]

    The 7th Corpse Decarabia shed his single eye.

 Chapter 286: Power inflation (6)

    <h4>Chapter 286: Power intion (6)</h4>

    A shower of gold coins rains down over a vast area.

    Clink, clink, clink, clink, clink!

    It was a terrifyingly destructive force that warped the surroundingndscape.

    ... but.

    Vikir walked through the swirling cloud of gold dust and stood nonchntly.

    ''The Wailing Wall''. The Seventh Corpse of Decarabia.

    The demonic shield that was once an insurmountable wall for mankind was now on the side of man, protecting Vikir!

    [...It''s been a long time, Belial].

    Belial''s eyes widened at the sound of Decarabia''s voice.

    [What the hell is going on, Decarabia, and why are youing out of there now?]

    [Ie out where I want toe out when I want toe out].

    [That''s not what I meant. What about your great mission to open the gates, and what are you doing here?]

    [Didn''t you just say a moment ago that you don''t needpanions; why don''t you try opening the gate on your own?]

    Belial gritted his teeth in disbelief at the tastelessness of Decarabia''s voice.

    [I''m sure I can open the gate by myself when this vault is full, I don''t need those ungratefulpanions!]

    After all, he had just shouted those words.

    Belial swallowed hard at his anger, then spoke in a softened voice.

    [Decarabia, it will never be good for you to betray us in this way].

    [Betrayal? The word is wrong, young one, for I have never been on anyone''s side by nature].

    [Are you confident, then, that you can bear the wrath of yourpanions, that you can bear the wrath of one who is ''one and all'', who is ''all and one''?]

    [...The answer shall be bound for ever by oath].

    This was the end of Belial and Decarabia''s conversation.

    Apparently, Decarabia would not answer any more of Belial''s questions.

    Vikir spoke briefly.

    "Belial is a demon ofmerce, but he is also a demon of speech, and the two are inseparable, so the answer is not to talk too long."

    [I know the cunning of his tongue, human; more importantly, how does it feel to use me, isn''t it wonderful?]

    Vikir stared at Decarabia''s self-praise for a moment.

    The translucent shield glowed a dusky red as if to show off.

    Its mana cost was staggering, but its ability to block physical damage made it one of the most powerful shields ever created.

    Moreover, since the size and hardness can also be adjusted, it seemed like it could be used efficiently if mana control could be controlled in detail.

    "...It''s usable."

    [Heh- usable? That''s all you can say about it?]

    While grumbling unhappily, Decarabia nced toward Dolores behind him.

    [Well, it doesn''t matter, it''s nice to be able to protect a beautiful woman, and of course, a handsome man. But most of all, the person worth protecting is a handsome man dressed as a beautiful woman, or a beautiful woman dressed as a handsome man. This body that loves good, evil, and all chaos....]

    "Shut up, here theye again."

    Vikir raised Decarabia and braced himself for the attack ahead.

    As if on cue, Belial unleashed a massive bombardment of gold coins from his two hands.

    Clink, clink, clink, clink, clink, clink, clink-

    A loud crackling noise, apanied by sparks of fire, shook the shield of the inverted pentagram.

    But Decarabia''s shields, almost unbeatable in physical defense, didn''t budge.

    ''...I like it, but the mana cost is too much.''

    The loud vibration of the mana hole at the bottom makes me feel extremely seasick.

    It seemed that in order to build up the proficiency of Decarabia, a considerable amount of mana umtion was required before using the Shield Technique.

    Then.

    "Hey, hey, hey...you can put me down now."

    Dolores covered her face and whispered in a low voice.

    Her ears, peeking out of her hair, were red beyond reddening.

    Vikir quietly lowered her to the ground, still sped around his waist.

    Then he spoke.

    "You don''t have to be so hard on yourself. We''re colleagues."

    "...!"

    Dolores'' eyes widened at the words.

    Night Hound had called her a colleague.

    And the moment Dolores heard those words.

    ...pounding!

    His heart began to beat wildly.

    ''Why, what''s wrong with my chest? I feel something hot inside....''

    Dolores pressed her hand firmly against her left breast.

    An unexined power stirred within.

    An unidentifiable warmth began to emanate from her left breast and spread throughout her body.

    ''Is this another Soul Mate effect?''

    It''s simr to the feeling Dolores had before Dantalian.

    Although she was too distraught now to make a detailedparison.

    Then.

    [Die, you bastards!]

    Belial scattered gold coins again.

    A shower of gold flew in like a barrage of bullets, and this time, a ck wave cannon was added that spewed out from Belial''s mouth.

    KOOOOOOOOO!

    A storm of gold and darkness sweeping all around!

    [Oh, no, not the wave].

    Decarabia blocked the showers of gold coins with ease, but seemed to be overwhelmed by Belial''s magical attack that followed.

    Then.

    "Don''t worry!"

    Dolores cheerfully stepped forward once more.

    ...Pow!

    A wall of holy fire, muchrger and thicker than before, blocked Belial''s wave cannon.

    Belial''s magic is shattered and scattered by the holy power.

    But Belial would not be defeated so easily this time.

    [A mere ember before a strong wind, an insignificant aura!]

    As the gold coins in the vault were absorbed into Belial''s massive body, the magical energy he emitted grew thicker and thicker.

    "Ugh! Such a powerful demon. How...!"

    Dolores gritted her teeth as she felt her divine shield being pushed back.

    Meanwhile, Vikir was gauging the distance of his sword strike, looking for an opening behind Dolores'' shield.

    "Even just this amount is a big help. thanks."

    Dolores felt her spirits rise a little more at Night Hound''s words.

    ''...Butpared to the Dantalian battle, it''s a world of difference.''

    Dolores wished she could be more helpful to Night Hound, somehow.

    She wanted to share the burden he was carrying.

    She wanted him to rely on her just a little more.

    To be something he could count on, something he could lean on.

    ''The name is the color of soul mates!''

    Dolores finally stopped hesitating and turned her head.

    "Night Hound!"

    "...?"

    Dolores eximed as Vikir turned his head, trying to look as confident as possible.

    "Please tell me your name!"

    "...What?"

    Vikir scratched his head, and Dolores grunted.

    "As you can see, it''s getting harder and harder to hold up the defenses!"

    She was right.

    Even Dolores'' divine power, which seemed to be overflowing due to her innate talents and blessings, was now slowly running out.

    "I need that ''resonance'' phenomenon to increase my divine power!"

    Dolores was referring to the ''soul mate'' phenomenon.

    "If I can resonate with Night Hound even more deeply, if our bond is strengthened even a little more, it will definitely make a difference!"

    A soul mate in a certain color, and they don''t even know each other''s names.

    Dolores suddenly thought this was very unreasonable.

    "It''s okay if it''s not your full name! Can''t you at least give me the smallest nickname that I can call you... Could you please tell me at least one word of your name?"

    Dolores asked, her eyes shining despite the difficulty of the situation.

    A slender girl, holding back the immense power of a demon, how long could those thin, slender arms hold out?

    "...."

    Vikir decided that now was not the time to hesitate.

    And as soon as he had made up his mind, he stomped his feet and headed for Dolores.

    Night Hound leaned down to whisper in Dolores''s ear as she held up the defenses.

    "....Van"

    A name that catches her breath. And hot breath.

    Dolores flinched for a moment.

    ''...It was called "Van".''

    Dolores felt her heart beat even faster.

    Amon name. The process of getting to know each other by going through each other''s names.

    Names are indeed mysteriously powerful.

    Even if Dolores only heard a short version of the name, she felt as if the emotional and psychological distance between her and Night Hound had been shortened.

    ''Maybe... I''m the only one in the world who knows his name.''

    Dolores''s heart began to beat wildly in her chest.

    Thump-thump-thump-thump.

    The holy fire of the divine power grew hotter and more intense.

    ...Passss! Kurrrrr!

    The unexined emotions that had been stirring in her chest earlier pulsated harder and harder.

    The heart beating, the divine power pulsating in time with it, the white me pulsating vividly!

    It was the moment when the Soul Mate awakened once again.

    "Iyaaah!"

    Dolores unleashed her holy power with all her might,pletely knocking back the wave cannon that Belial was spitting out.

    [Ugh!?]

    As his attack shattered and scattered, ultra-high temperature white mes rushed in, burning his mouth.

    Belial could only gasp in horror.

    "That''s it, that''s it, that''s it!"

    Dolores eximed, looking down at her hands.

    Something she could not do to anyone else and could not exin.

    Only Night Hound... ... No, a miracle that only happens when she''s with ''Van''.

    Vikir wanted to congratte Dolores for once again performing a miracle as a ''Saint of Steel'', but unfortunately, there wasn''t enough time.

    "Gap!"

    Baskerville 8th Form. The Shattering Tooth.

    Eight air-tearing strikes fly out, aimed at Belial.

    Quack, quack, quack, quack, quack!

    A horrific scream erupts from the explosion.

    It was a devastating final act from a demon.

    ... but.

    Charrrrrrr!

    Once again, the gold coins began to move rapidly.

    A golden serpent slithered through the thick smoke.

    Having absorbed so many treasures, Belial soonid his unharmed body on the ground.

    [It was hot, but still a worthless struggle].

    Belial had a sneer on his lips as if he had never cried out in pain.

    "... This is going to be an unfavorable war of attrition."

    Dolores said, mes spewing from both hands.

    Vikir couldn''t help but agree.

    "We just have to hold out a little longer. Time is on our side."

    "...?"

    Dolores scratched her head at Vikir''s words.

    She still hadn''t figured out what Night Hound, who was saying the exact opposite while bing more disadvantageous as time passed.

    Just then.

    An unexpected favorable development urred.

    Quack Quack Quack! Pufffff!

    Belial, who was sucking in gold coins, fell back due to a sudden explosion.

    [Mmm!? What the hell!]

    The gold coins that had been rushing toward Belial stopped.

    Suddenly,rge golden walls rose up and blocked the flow of funds.

    At the same time, arge golden fist rose up from the floor and struck Belial on the head.

    ...BANG!

    Belial was knocked back once more, spitting out his broken teeth.

    "What, what, who?"

    Dolores turned her head with wide eyes.

    Vikir did the same.

    "...!"

    An unexpected figure suddenly burst into the battlefield and attacked Belial.

    Underneath the messy white hair, the face that looks as innocent as a puppy can be seen gradually changing into aplex expression due to various emotions.

    Fear. Confusion. Astonishment. Shock. Anger.

    Sinir.

    She stood at the center of all these emotions.

 Chapter 287: Power inflation (7)

    <h4>Chapter 287: Power intion (7)</h4>

    "What is this, a dream?"

    Sinir looked around with a trembling gaze.

    Bartolomeo with his eyes open and a giant demonic figure floating above him.

    The demon''s opponents are Night Hound and St. Dolores, holding hands.

    ??

    Sinir just kept blinking as if he couldn''t believe the current situation.

    Dolores was very puzzled.

    ''Why is Sinir here! Surely she must have drunk the tea with the sleeping pills!''

    She asked, trying to stay calm.

    "Sinir, are you okay? From the looks of it, you''ve been poisoned with sleeping pills...."

    "...Egh, I''m fine, ugh- I''ve just gotten a little tolerant from taking so many different types of sleeping pills on a daily basis."

    Sinir usually has a very tight schedule, including part-time work, school work, personal study, and extracurricr activities.

    What she didn''t realize was that she was taking multiple sleeping pills due to stress and had developed a very high tolerance to them.

    However, even so, the efficacy of sleeping pills cannot be ignored.

    Sinir''s eyes were still slightly open, as if she was half asleep.

    "I was so sleepy that I stumbled and fell on top of an open crate, which must have been closed before I realized it, but what kind of situation is this? Um, I mean, what the hell is that, and Night Hound....?"

    She asked, looking back and forth between Belial and Vikir.

    Dolores gritted her teeth.

    "Sinir, I''ll exin everythingter, but for now,e here...."

    But she didn''t finish her sentence.

    Belialughed and raised a giant fist.

    [It wouldn''t be a bad idea to weed out useless rtionships at this point. As of this time, all ys have ended.]

    Bartolomeo''s body snapped once more, and the terrifying magic exploded.

    Sinir''s eyes narrowed at the sight of it.

    Quack, quack, quack, quack!

    Next. Belial''s fist came mming down on Sinir.

    Watching Belial''s attack fall like a meteorite, Dolores cried out in horror.

    "Si, Sinir! No!"

    She ran, maximizing her divine power, but it wasn''t enough to keep up.

    ... but.

    "...!"

    Dolores gasped in surprise.

    Boom, dududududu!

    Sinir had blocked Belial''s fist.

    Huge golden palms protruded from the floor and walls, blocking Belial''s fist.

    [...? What the hell is this].

    Belial frowned at the unexpected interruption.

    But it wasn''t just any interruption.

    Fufufufufufufuf!

    Golden spikes sprouted from the back of the golden hand and pierced Belial''s fist.

    [!?]

    As Belial quickly pulled his hand away, he began to notice changes in his surroundings.

    tter!

    Waves of gold coins.

    Treasures piled high everywhere were rushing toward them in waves.

    Not toward Belial, but toward Sinir!

    Criririring, clink, clink, clink!

    The golden snakes were being sucked toward the hat Sinir was holding in his hand.

    Sinir''s mana was growing stronger and stronger as well.

    ''Money Hat''.

    This was the prize Sinir received for cing eighth in the University League.

    ''Hehe- money is power, so I''ll have to make a lot of money to wear this hat.''

    A hat that makes your magic stronger when you spend money on it.

    Although it was worn here and there and the brim had teeth missing, it was an effective artifact.

    Grururung!

    Putting on the hat, Sinir cast another spell.

    The gold coins and bullion around her began to melt in the mes, then coalesced together to form a giant fist.

    ...BANG!

    Belial''s head turns again.

    [Annoying].

    Belial''s pupils, which were as wide as those of a mountain goat, were young.

    ...Oof!

    Bartolomeo''s body moved.

    The Balmung in his hand drew a strange trajectory and twisted like a snake with hundreds of joints.

    "...Eugh!?"

    Blood fountains burst out from all over the body.

    Sinir stepped back to avoid Bartolomeo, who swung his sword in front of her.

    "Patriarch!? Why are you like this! Ugh!?"

    She cries out in confusion as if she recognizes Bartolomeo''s face.

    Dolores, seeing it, shouts.

    "Sinir, he''s not the patriarch of the Bourgeois family, he''s just a puppet whose body was taken over by the demon long ago!"

    "No!? That''s not possible. A demon?"

    "Please believe me...!?"

    But this time, Dolores couldn''t finish her sentence.

    ...Bam!

    Vikir, flying on Madame''s wire, soared upward with Sinir around her waist.

    Boom!

    The area where Sinir was standing just a moment ago was devastated by Bartolomeo''s strike.

    "Boom!"

    Sinir flinched when she saw the face of the person who had grabbed her.

    Night Hound. His eyes glowed a grim red from the slits in his mask.

    "Hey, get off me! Viin!"

    She quickly drew up her mana, but she''d already used up too much of it just a moment ago, creating and maneuvering her giant golden hand.

    ''Eating money makes me stronger, but there''s a limit to how fast I can eat.''

    Vikir set the struggling Sinir back down on the ground.

    "...?"

    The unexpectedly politending stunned Sinir for a moment.

    Vikir purposely scratched his voice harder and spoke in short bursts.

    "There''s no point in getting involved. If you get taken hostage for no reason, I''ll be in trouble, so stay back."

    "...Hostage? Trouble?"

    Sinir looked confused.

    She quickly calmed her breathing.

    The way her eyes suddenly be harsh is truly the attitude of a genius.

    "If they took me hostage, so why should you, the ''Night Hound'', be in trouble? Do you know me?"

    "...."

    "It doesn''t mean that you are on the side of justice right now. Then why did you save me? Bait to divert attention? Who made Mr. Bartolomeo like that? Is that you? What is your connection with President Dolores?"

    Sinir''s nonstop barrage of questions was calm and sharp, but with a slight tremor at the end.

    It was like a sword in the hands of an unwary child.

    And the experienced Vikir knew how to deal with such fragile swords.

    "The demon is absolute evil. You wouldn''t be so stupid as to not know that, right?"

    "I can''t believe you treat me like a child... There doesn''t seem to be much difference in age..."

    "Being the opposite of absolute evil doesn''t necessarily make you good, but at least you''ll know which side you''re on when ites down to it."

    "...."

    "What you choose to see, what you choose to believe, and what choices you choose to make are entirely up to you."

    It''s about "not getting entangled" in the first ce.

    There''s no need to persuade, there''s no need to impress. Just follow your own path.

    Having finished, Vikir turned his head.

    And in front of him, a wide-eyed Bartolomeo was running towards him, holding the magic sword Balmung.

    Jzzz-ugh!

    Vikir shed at Bartolomeo''s right hand with his sword.

    And it even left deep scars on the body of Belial beyond that.

    [Grunts, but it''s no use!]

    Belial cried out in pain, but only for a moment, and then he absorbed the gold and silver treasures around him to regenerate his wounds.

    So much wealth, so much greed!

    As long as there is money and people want it, value is eternal.

    Belial feeds on money, value, and greed, and enjoys unlimited life and power!

    But Vikir did not give up.

    "I''ming."

    "I''ve got your back!"

    Vikirys down his sword to level it and Dolores grants protection from behind.

    And then.

    ... sh!

    With a dazzling light, eight teeth engulfed in white me bite the whole world.

    Baskerville 8th Form. Perfect state.

    It ferociously shed at Belial''s entire body.

    [Ghahahahaha! It''s no use! As long as the money in the vault doesn''t dry up, I can recover as much as I want!]

    Belialughed out loud, despite the wounds and pain shooting through his body.

    And then.

    Chirrrrrrrrrrr! Clink Clink!

    Another tter of gold coins.

    Belial sucked in a huge amount of money.

    [How is it? The infinite and eternal power of this body...!]

    However.

    [...?]

    Belial couldn''t help but stopugh.

    As expected, even after absorbing such a vast amount of wealth, his physical strength had not been fully restored.

    [Huh? What is this? What''s going on?]

    Belial looked down at the gold coins, banknotes, jewelry, and bundles of money that were being sucked into his body.

    They were clearly umting in his body, but strangely, the rate at which his health was recovering was getting slower and slower.

    The volume and weight of his riches remained the same.

    However, the resulting recovery gradually decreased noticeably, and in the end, it became virtually ineffective.

    [???]

    Belial stared in disbelief at the deep scars that still marked every inch of his body.

    And ahead of him.

    "It''s about time."

    Vikir took a step forward.

    "Do you wonder why your recovery has been so slow?"

    Vikir asked Belial, who looked puzzled.

    With that, Vikir took out a piece of paper from his pocket and flew it towards Belial.

    [...!?]

    Belial''s eyes widened as if torn apart.

    [URGENT BREAKING NEWS] Mysterious Currency Dropped in Imperial City, Counterfeit Bills or a Sign of Hyperintion?

    -Yesterday evening, arge amount of mysterious money was dispersed in the skies of the Imperial Capital...

    The unidentified gold coins and bills, which were contained within a giant balloon, poured down like a shower all over the empire, regardless of time and ce...

    Citizens are nervous, not knowing if the money is counterfeit or if there really is a lot of money unleashed on the market, and economic experts fear a short-term loss of trust in the unredeemable currency...

    That was the article in the morning paper, scheduled to be published tomorrow morning.

 Chapter 288: Power inflation (8)

    <h4>Chapter 288: Power intion (8)</h4>

    Intion.

    Currency expansion (Intion). The phenomenon in which currency bes so plentiful that its value decreases.

    * * *

    Balloons rose simultaneously in major central areas, including the imperial capital, the center of the empire.

    Therge balloons rose into the sky at one o''clock in the morning and soon burst due to the difference in air pressure or other external factors.

    The contents of the balloons rained down to the ground.

    It was ''money'' such as banknotes, gold coins, etc.

    As a result of the huge amount of money being released into the imperial capital, citizens became distrustful of money.

    "Banknotes? I won''t take them, I''d rather barter."

    "How do I know if these gold coins are real or fake? I can''t take deposits for a while."

    "Oops, I thought I was going to get rich, but this isn''t what I expected."

    "I guess we''ll have to use the bills for firewood and the gold coins for weights."

    "Isn''t this going to ruin the country?"

    There was food hoarding, and no one wanted to trade their necessities for money.

    And there were two pairs of eyes watching this massive mess.

    " ...The Director of the Money Manufacturing Bureau is allowed to do this?"

    Cindiwendy, a beautiful golden-haired woman. Where she sends her curious gaze, a middle-aged man with brown hair stands.

    Bourgeois J Demian. He is the director of the Imperial Money Manufacturing Bureau.

    The two of them stand atop a tall tower, watching the money scatter across the empire.

    A staggering amount of counterfeit money. The naked eye could never determine their authenticity.

    It was a work that Director Damian put a lot of effort into creating.

    In charge of distributing and dispersing the counterfeit currency throughout the empire was Cindiwendy, the master of logistics.

    Demian said in a low voice.

    "If you''re going to dig a grave, you have to dig two. For my brother''s, and mine."

    "Good posture. I guess you''ve been sharpening your knife for a long time?"

    "It''s been a long time since I harbored a desire for revenge against my family. I never thought I could achieve that with someone else''s hands."

    "... I can sympathize with you, as I''ve been in a simr situation."

    Cindiwendy and Demian. Both have someone they want to avenge, so they teamed up with Night Hound.

    "We''re both aligned with scary men."

    The two had a pretty simr opinion.

    Whoosh,Cririringgg!

    A shower of gold coins falling in the distance, a wind of billowing bills.

    Demian furrowed his brow as he caught the rain of falling gold coins.

    "Counterfeit gold coins look just like the real thing, but because they''re cast in fake metal, they''re much lighter in weight, so it doesn''t hurt as much when they fall from a great height. You can tell the difference by holding it in your hand, though it can be hard to tell if it''s mixed in with the real thing."

    "But what about bills? They''re lighter, and they look the same."

    "Both counterfeit bills and counterfeit gold coins are dyed with magic dyes, so they''ll lose their color in a couple of hours. I don''t want to prolong the confusion on the waterfront."

    Demian is right.

    The counterfeit currency distributed throughout the Imperial Capital automatically bes trash after two hours.

    But for at least those two hours, the Empire''s prices will be in shambles.

    The distrust of fiat currency will cause the citizens of the Empire to care about real things, not money, and naturally the greed and craving for "money" itself will fade.

    Cindiwendy asked.

    "But. What''s the point of reducing the value of money to near zero for only two hours?"

    "Two hours. That''s enough time to decide the fate of an entire world. Of course, it would be too much for criminals like us."

    Demian set his jaw. Then, in a low voice, he answered.

    " ...For some non-criminal(Extraordinary person) who may be fighting for his life at this very moment."

    * * *

    Belial was stunned.

    [No, no way, why is my recovery getting slower and slower!!!]

    No matter how much money I suck, I can''t recover my health.

    Money. Human greed. The value attached to it.

    Something must have gone wrong in this cycle.

    [How could humans not want money? Their greed knows no bounds! Howe...!]

    Belial looked confused.

    It made sense, since there was nothing money couldn''t do.

    But.

    "Gold is not omnipotent."

    Vikir said, taking a step forward.

    The words ''for at least two hours'' were omitted.

    It was only a matter of time before the vault would be opened.

    In the meantime, the countless gold and silver treasures in the vault will continue to lose value.

    ''With the entire empire distrustful of money, the world has be an age of barter.''

    So all this money is worthless.

    Of course, it was only a short affair, but it had great meaning for Vikir.

    ...sh!

    The Eight Teeth of Vikir, strengthened by divine power, viciously raged all over Belial''s body.

    Dolores was constantly sending buffs to Vikir''s back.

    "Lunianus homo omnium dominus est liberrismus, nulli subiectus, a free master over all things! A Lunian is an entirely faithful servant of all things and enved to all. (Lunianus homo omnium servus est offciosissimus, omnibus subiectus)!"

    The souls of two men who have led very different lives resonate.

    Vikir generously unleashes the power of the Swordmaster.

    Baskerville Eight. The high-speed spinning aura of an intermediate Swordmaster slices and dices everything it touches.

    Iron Body. The spirit of a superhuman.

    A body trained to the extreme, loaded like a taut bowstring.

    Muscle fibers throughout his body twitch like thorns, ready to tear through his skin.

    His pupils sharpened as he searched for the perfect point to deliver the final blow.

    A sharp and heavy weapon aimed straight ahead is shot forward, supported by only one big toe.

    And then a sh that threatens to tear the world apart!

    Quack, quack, quack, quack, quack!

    Belial cried out as he was swept up in the aura storm, his entire body shredded and shattered.

    And then.

    Vikir stood haphazardly before Belial.

    The body of his host, Bartolomeo, was already a wreck, and the body of Belial, who had appeared on top of him, also looked miserable.

    One of its thick horns is broken, and the other is filled with cracks.

    ck blood gushed from every inch of the disgustingly fat pig''s head.

    "Cut its neck long."

    Once Vikir had the upper hand, he never let go.

    The demon hunter''s teeth sank relentlessly into the demon''s neck.

    A hound bites a pig to death; it was a natural sight.

    ... but.

    [Gahahahahahaha!]

    Belial let out ast-minuteugh.

    Vikir narrowed his eyes as his big pig nose twitched.

    "What''s so funny?"

    [Because I look forward to seeing your expressions soon distorted horribly.]

    After speaking, Belial''s mouth dropped open.

    ck smoke began to billow from his mouth.

    Decarabia on Vikir''s chest spoke in a low voice.

    [That is hisst ability, ''Oppression''].

    "What kind of ability is that?"

    [....]

    Decarabia hesitated for a moment, then told him the truth.

    [It''s the ability to make those who kill you pay the price you deserve].

    [That''s right, those who kill me will die!]

    Belial agreed.

    He rolled hisrd-zed eyes, ncing alternately at Vikir and Dolores.

    [Whoever killed me will die, and I will take him with me. The other one will be very sad, for you have lost arade].

    "...."

    [Hahahahaha! Whoever killed me will pay for it!]

    Then Dolores said sourly.

    "Why is it a sin to kill a demon? If it is a sin, then I will kill you and pay for it."

    [Cough cough- doesn''t the doctrine of the Lun say that demons are also creatures of the Lun, and that all killing of creatures is a sin, are you sure about that?]

    Belial''s pig nose twitches.

    Slight confusion shed across Dolores''s face.

    Just then.

    "Don''t y with the demon''s tongue."

    Vikir''s sword sliced through Belial''s throat in an instant.

    ...Poof!

    ck blood gushed out like a fountain.

    Belial rolled his eyes in disbelief.

    [Eh, how can you not move an inch, I, my tongue... this, this, this, aren''t you afraid of sin...?]

    But Vikir didn''t mind at all.

    And then.

    ...Thud!

    Something was stuck to Belial''s forehead.

    A piece of paper stained with ck blood.

    Belial''s face twisted in despair as he realized its identity.

    ''All sins of this faithful church member are forgiven.''

    �C This indulgence was issued and endorsed by the Old Testament, and counterfeiting it was punishable by death.

    For a moment, a scene from the past shed before Belial''s eyes.

    A memory of one of countless descendants.

    ''If I can repent for sinsmitted in the past, can I repent for sinsmitted in the future?''

    ''..., but what kind of sin is so serious that you''re looking for such an expensive indulgence?''

    ''I think I''m going to kill one of my neighbor''s pigs.''

    ''That''s right. I''ll give it to you because you''re lucky to have gotten this far for the life of one pig.''

    Bang-

    ''Yes, you have repented~''

    It was an indulgence that Vikir had purchased at the temple of the Old Testament in the past, and the price was only one gold.

    [...Ah, no].

    Belial. The great demon who descended to destroy mankind.

    The life of an absolute being who monopolized all the wealth of the human world, was reced by an indulgence worth a single gold coin.

    "It''s over. You ''Worthless One.''"

    Vikir said briefly.

    And the magic sword Beelzebub drew an even shorter trajectory.

    ...Thud!

    It was the moment when the 6th Demon King''s head fell.

 Chapter 289: The Successors (1)

    <h4>Chapter 289: The Sessors (1)</h4>

    ...Thud!

    The 6th Demon King. Belial, the ''Worthless One''.

    The sight of his massive head falling was something that the entirety of humanity in the past, countless great heroes, would have given their lives to see.

    Vikir leaned back against the wall as he watched the demon''s body die.

    He narrowly avoided copsing.

    And as a result, he was able to watch Belial''s final moments.

    ''...And with that, the brains of the Demon Coalition are gone.''

    A long war between the demonic army and the human alliance.

    Ages of destruction, when corpses formed mountains and blood formed oceans, before humans won a hollow victory.

    Throughout these eons, the most tactically damaging being to the Alliance, and the one responsible for the most civilian casualties, has been eliminated: Belial.

    With both Dantalian and Belial gone, the cunning minds that had sabotaged the Alliance, a weight was lifted from Vikir''s shoulders.

    "Hey, are you okay!"

    Dolores eximed, rushing to Vikir''s aid.

    Vikir gave her a short look.

    "Better than that. It''s almost time."

    "What? Time? What time... ah!"

    Dolores suddenly realized.

    She realized that she was in a huge vault and there was a limit to how long she could stay.

    Pulling out a pocket watch buried under a pile of gold coins, Dolores sucked in a breath.

    "The vault doors are about to open!"

    The vault doors would open and the Bourgeois family''s vassals and private soldiers who had been waiting outside would enter.

    "As soon as the door opens, we''re out. Be ready."

    Dolores nodded at Vikir''s words.

    With the arrangements Demian had made, the troop deployment shouldn''t be much.

    But even so, they couldn''t let their guard down.

    After all, they were going to get inside the house, assassinate the patriarch, and get away with it.

    "We''ll have to make it a picture of me kidnapping you."

    "Okay. It''ll be easier for you to get away if you take me hostage."

    As soon as the door to the vault opens, Dolores will have to run at full speed and not look back.

    But there was one thing holding Dolores back.

    "...."

    She turned her head and looked beyond the pile of gold coins.

    Where her gazended, she saw a white-haired girl standing still in the corner.

    Sinir.

    She was staring into space with a nk expression.

    Tsutsutsutsuts...

    Belial''s corpse melts away, emitting a terrible stench.

    It disappears in an instant, as if it had never been here.

    On the floor, where all the demonic corpses have spread out and disappeared, Bartolomeo''s body lies dead, his whole body grotesquely contorted.

    Bartolomeo''s face is contorted in horror and pain.

    Sinir''s hands continue to shake as she stares at him.

    Then.

    "Sinir, wake up!"

    Dolores grabbed Sinir by the shoulders and shook her once, hard.

    "That wasn''t a Bourgeois patriarch, you saw it, it was a puppet for the demon to incarnate!"

    "...!"

    Then the light returned to Sinir''s eyes.

    tagg!

    She swatted away Dolores''s arm around her shoulder.

    "Stay away from me!"

    "Sinir, believe me, I swear to God, he''s not human, he''s a demon!"

    Dolores said urgently.

    "The doors to the vault are about to open. There are going to be tons of peopleing in here."

    "...."

    "Come with me. I''ll exin everything."

    But Sinir remained silent, her mouth mped shut.

    Dolores felt something strange in Sinir''s attitude.

    Normally, Sinir was a well-mannered and polite junior who followed her lead.

    She was also a quick thinker and would never do anything to offend others.

    But now, Sinir certainly seemed different.

    A demon she had never seen before had appeared, and the Bourgeois family patriarch had been manipted to death.

    Under these circumstances, wouldn''t it make sense to leave the scene?

    But Sinir refused to join Night''s Hound.

    Dolores spoke onest, desperate time.

    "Sinir, it''s dangerous to stay here alone...."

    "Isn''t it you who are in danger, if I stay here and tell you what I saw...."

    But Sinir was still uncooperative.

    Her demeanor was strangely unppable, despite her anxiety.

    Then,

    ...Cha-chang!

    Vikir stepped forward with his sword at full length.

    Sinir''s gaze turned to him.

    Vikir spoke in a blunt voice.

    "Do as you please. I''m the one who killed the patriarch of the Bourgeois, after all."

    "...."

    "The saint was taken hostage by me, unknowingly. That''s what the article will say."

    Sinir replied in a trembling voice.

    "Are you going to kill me?"

    "If necessary."

    There was no warmth in Vikir''s voice.

    The coldness made Sinir shiver.

    ''Go away. If you don''t want to get caught up and die.''

    It was the same voice she''d heard at the Academy''s festival, the same icy chill that sent a shiver down her spine.

    Vickir took a step forward, where Sinir was standing stiffly.

    "...."

    Vikir stared into Sinir''s speechless face, lost in thought.

    A man whose name was nowhere to be found on the lists of the Human Alliance when the Age of Destruction came.

    Yet, in the memories of countless great heroes, she had been referred to as a ''genius'', ''elite'', and ''extraordinary''.

    A mysterious girl who suddenly disappeared from the world after graduation and whose name could not be found anywhere.

    Should she be kept alive, or should she be eliminated from the world?

    Vikir''s judgment and choice were rapid.

    "Decide for yourself."

    A voice crackled.

    "What you will see, what you will hear, what you will believe."

    It weighed heavily on Sinir''s heart.

    She must decide what she will believe.

    Just as Vikir is about to turn away.

    ...Thump, clunk, clunk!

    The door to the vault was opened.

    At the same time, a sound was heard.

    "Aaaah! What kind of mess is this!"

    "Ah, an ambush! Find the patriarch!"

    "All forces to the vault!"

    These were the cries of the panicked Bourgeois.

    * * *

    Quack!

    With a loud explosion, Night Hound leaped out of the vault.

    Jegrang! Jegrang! Jegrang! Jegrang! Jegrang! Jegrang!

    At the same time, gold nuggets and jewelry of unknown value were scattered in all directions.

    While the eyes of his pursuers with spears, arrows, and wands are drawn to the riches on the ground, Night Hound flees over the wall in a sh.

    On his waist was the saintess Dolores, who looked as if she had fainted.

    "Hey, I''ve been scolded! The patriarch is dead!"

    "And even the saintess was taken hostage!"

    "Hey, at this rate, we''re all going to die!"

    "Grab them! All troops to the outer wall! We have to save the saintess!"

    "No touching! Anyone who touches the riches on the floor in the meantime will be severely punishedter!"

    The people of Bourgeois Family are quick to respond to the situation.

    Among them is Demian, who has just returned to his family home from the Money Manufacturing Bureau.

    Dolores opens her eyes slightly at the shouting behind her.

    "Do you think we should leave Sinir like that?"

    Vikir only shrugs.

    "She seems like a smart girl, I''m sure she can find a way to save herself, and if she does, we can just say she was out of it from the sleeping pills."

    "If she even tells anyone about us...."

    "No one would believe her."

    Sinir may be a brilliant genius, but she''s just a neer to the Academy, amoner with no backbone.

    If Sinir were to tell the truth about what she saw in the vault, she''d bebeled a madwoman, and she''d know that there would be nothing in it for her.

    Just then, Vikir heard Decarabia whispering softly in his ear.

    [Hohoho. I didn''t think she was going to open her mouth, that white-haired girl].

    "She''s the kind of girl who would rather solve her own problems than rely on the adults."

    [Did you ever think that such a personality would cause more trouble in the future?]

    "I have a mind of my own."

    Vikir rushed forward, gathering information about Sinir.

    "She still has a lot of use left in her.

    A dry judgment. Understandably, it''s for the best.

    Vikir nced down at the wall.

    Truly strict vignce befitting a tycoon.

    It would be difficult to break through the crowdsing from all directions.

    "This is goodbye."

    Vikir lowered Dolores to the ground by the young madame''s thread.

    "Night Hunt ... No, ''Van'', what are you going to do?"

    "Just call it what you used to call it. And I also have a way out."

    Vikir leapt down the wall, leaving Dolores with a worried nce.

    Escape would be easy with the Ring of Andromalius, which could create subspace at any moment, but the cooldown has not returned yet.

    So Vikir did the next best thing and put on a Picaresque mask.

    Hack, hack, hack-

    In the midst of their busy schedule, not many people paid attention to the ck puppy carefully crawling around the corner under the outer wall.

    * * *

    Inside the vault.

    Demian was the only one left at the scene where everyone else had fled.

    He turned to Bartolomeo, whoy dead on the floor, and bowed his head in silence.

    "... brother. What a mess."

    The demon''s body had already melted away.

    Only Bartolomeo''s bodyy in a ragged heap.

    For a man of so much wealth and power to be so miserable.

    Now that things are like this, what good is all the money and treasures that form the mountains around us?

    Demian sighed heavily.

    He hadn''t thought he could be surprised anymore after his daughter''s soul wedding, but this was just too much.

    "What''s a demon and what''s a gate. What the hell happened...."

    Right then.

    "It was you."

    A sharp and cold voice came from behind.

    It was sharpened like a dagger, stabbing Demian in the back of the head.

    "The one who brought Night Hound and Saintess into the Vault."

    At the words, Demian slowly turned his head.

    Blue veins appeared on the hand holding the stilettos around his waist.

    Then.

    "...!"

    Demian''s eyes widened for a moment.

    The hand that gripped the stiletto momentarily loosened its grip, and a voice trembled.

    "...Juliet?"

    His daughter, the one he''d sent off in tears, was somehow standing here with a cold expression on her face.

 Chapter 290: The Successors (2)

    <h4>Chapter 290: The Sessors (2)</h4>

    "It was you, the one who brought the Night Hound and the Saint into the vault."

    A tone that seemed to catch an insider.

    Demian turned his head and was stunned.

    Eyes as big as a deer''s, pupils as clear, and white hair that glistened with silver.

    She looked like a dead Juliettee back to life.

    But the illusion is literally a blink of an eye.

    He lowered his eyelids once, then lifted them, and reality set in.

    The girl in front of him looked a little younger than Juliet, and her hair was much shorter.

    Most importantly, she was someone Demian knew.

    "...Sinir J Bourgeois."

    Niece of Demian J Bourgeois and daughter of Bartolomeo J Bourgeois.

    The scion of the Bourgeois family stood there.

    Demian swallowed a faint groan.

    It was because he''d seen the name on the list that he''d attended a party thrown by a bunch of academy students that he''d be the director of the Money Manufacturing Bureau in the first ce.

    "It''s a misunderstanding."

    Demian shook his head.

    He was familiar with Night Hound, but he didn''t know much about demons.

    "I haven''t heard of it either, I just happened to notice it a bit before everyone else and ran. In fact, I hadn''t even arrived home yet."

    Because of this, he was able to skillfully mix truth and lies.

    Sinir nced at Demian, then looked away.

    "...Well, never mind, that''s not important right now."

    She stood before the body of her father, Bartolomeo.

    She murmured in a low voice.

    "There was something I wanted to ask you, and now I''ll never get to ask you."

    Sinir thought back to her time at the Academy.

    -''I have questions about the future state of the Empire''s economy, questions about our current financial metrics, questions about our criteria for finding new businesses, questions about the recent mergers and acquisitions between the promising small merchant guilds and the mercenary guilds... and questions about whether tycoons eat chicken!''

    -''I have questions, too.''

    -''Oh, Sinir, what do you want to know? Do you want to guess the questions with me?''

    -''...No. I only have one question.''

    -''Eh? Only one? Only one?''

    -''Yeah.''

    -''No,e on, we should learn a lot from meeting the Empire''s greatest tycoon, it''s a chance we might never get again!''

    While her teammate Piggy was getting all excited about meeting the Empire''s greatest tycoon, Sinir had only one question on her list.

    But it was all for nothing now that the man who was supposed to answer it was dead in this ce.

    Then.

    "''Why did you abandon me'', that''s it, that''s the question."

    Demian, behind her, spoke up.

    Sinir stared, and Demian shrugged.

    "Juliet asked me the same thing. When she was alive."

    "...Juliet''s sister too?"

    Sinir''s eyes widened a little.

    Then Demian bit his lip slightly. The look of surprise on Sinir''s face was the same as Juliet''s on that day so long ago.

    "Yes. In conclusion, your father and family did not abandon you."

    Bourgeois family tradition. It is exactly as Demian exined to Night Hound earlier.

    The average young Bourgeois grows up in the family, but the "real" ones are different.

    Like a lion''s cub falling off a cliff, the future leaders of the family are thrown into society asmoners with their family name sealed.

    Survival in society is as difficult as survival in the wild.

    Achieving sess in the imperial capital, the center of the empire, solely on one''s own strength, without any help from parents or family. That is the process of ''proof''.

    Esse, Non Videri. The belief that ''it exists, but is not revealed''.

    "The Bourgeois family always cultivates more than one leader for checks and bnces, forpetition. In my generation, it was brother and me; in the next, you and Juliet."

    Demian told Sinir that fact.

    Then, hesitantly, he added a word.

    "...I don''t know why my brother didn''t tell you that, because it''s something he should have told you much earlier."

    A moment.

    Throbbing-

    Sinir felt a throbbing headache.

    Blood was flowing from where she''d been cut by the shard of gold coin earlier.

    The sight of blood triggered a memory from earlier.

    [It wouldn''t be a bad idea to weed out useless rtionships at this point. As of this time, all ys have ended.]

    Bartolomeo, or rather the giant monster floating above him, spoke.

    "Useless rtionships, ys?

    Sinir staggered, holding her spinning head.

    "Are you okay?"

    Demian stepped closer, but Sinir jerked back, startled.

    Sinir was wary, like a stray cat on edge.

    She backed away slowly, palms up toward Demian.

    Her eyes as if she didn''t have a single thing in the world to believe.

    "If a demon really did take over my father''s body,... who raised me as a child? Which one is my father, and when did that happen?"

    "?"

    Demian didn''t understand what Sinir was saying now.

    But Sinir kept muttering anyway.

    "What if my father was never my father in the first ce? What then? What if it wasn''t the demon who died, but my father? Or what if it wasn''t my father, but the demon? What the hell, I don''t know...."

    Sinir ran her hands through her hair in agony.

    Suddenly, she snapped her head up.

    "...Night Hound. I need to see him again."

    Whether it was the demon, her father, the demon in her father''s mask, or her father in the demon''s mask that Night Hound killed, all things are resolved.

    Rising from his seat, Sinir approached Bartolomeo''s body in front of him.

    She reached out and closed the bulging eyes.

    "Farewell, father, I''ll take over the reins."

    "Goodbye, Father, I''ll take over the reigns."

    Words Demian doesn''t even think about behind Sinir''s back.

    But Demian can only stare at Sinir''s back in silence.

    And then.

    Sinir''s eyes calm down.

    Sinir looks like she''s made a decision.

    * * *

    "Huh! Huh! Huh! Huh!"

    A suburb far from the Bourgeois family. A road leading to the Imperial Capital.

    A middle-aged man was running through a mountain pass.

    His once clean face was stained with scars, and his neat white robe was stained with mud.

    Humbert. Why is he, a cardinal of the Great Lun Order, running so quickly, even abandoning his carriage?

    "Damn it! Damn it! Bartolomeo was a demon, I had no idea!"

    He ran through the bushes with a frightened expression.

    Shortly before Vikir''s meeting with Bartolomeo, Humbert had lunch with Bartolomeo.

    This is because the imperial family began an investigation as the criminal chain leading to the Old Testament faction of Quovadis, the cults, and the Bourgeois was revealed to some extent.

    Fearing that he was being thrown out with his tail between his legs, Humbert met with Bartolomeo and threatened to blow the whole thing up if he was ever investigated or arrested.

    And that''s where Belial showed his true colors.

    Humbert threw himself at Belial''s feet and begged for mercy, and the capricious Belial readily let him live.

    [Use this in a moment of crisis, weak human].

    As an added bonus, he gave him a ''gift''.

    "... Huh. A gift from the demon."

    Humbert clutched the thing in his hand tighter and tighter.

    It was a round object made of gold. A sphere shaped like an eyeball.

    It was imbued with the power of the Demon King Belial, and as expected, it exuded a strange aura.

    Humbert had just broken through the bushes.

    "Hic!"

    What he saw was a cliff that was as high as the sky.

    Humbert jumped back in horror.

    Rustle-

    The sound of crashing branches could be heard from above.

    "Whaaaat!?"

    Humbert dropped to the ground, startled by the sound.

    Lying t on his back in the dirt, Humbert tried to cover his head with his hands.

    But he had to wonder why he couldn''t get his hands to his head, even though he raised his arms.

    "...?"

    Looking up and down at his hands, Humbert was horrified.

    Both hands were gone from the wrists up.

    Only hot blood was gushing out of them.

    [Oho? I only wanted to take what was in your hands, but you cut them off?]

    A woman''s muffledughter could be heard overhead.

    Where Humbert hurriedly looked up, he saw a tree branch gently bending.

    And the person sitting on top of it is a monster with two horns.

    Ms. Uroboros. The one who made Humbert run all the way here.

    She cut off Humbert''s hand!

    [Oooh- it''s pretty. Is this it? A sacred object said to have been received from the demon?]

    Sheughed as she touched the golden orb stained with blood.

    "Gi, give it back!"

    Humbert summoned his courage and shouted.

    The only thing more disturbing than the loss of his two limbs was the loss of the Demon''s Eyeball that Belial had given him.

    And of course Miss Uroboros would not give it back.

    [A priest with a reputation, selling children for money behind his back, and now working with the demon? That''s a lot to take in].

    "Ugh, ugh!"

    Humbert cringes at her words, as if she''s prating his mind.

    But Miss Uroboros still only smiles her seductive smile.

    [I don''t mind, though, a criminal like you, I''m ''collecting''].

    "...What, collect?"

    Humbert looks puzzled.

    Thud!

    Suddenly, a snake-like creature flies out from behind and wraps itself around Humbert''s neck, suffocating him.

    It was Miss Uroboros''s whip.

    "Kuhugh!?"

    Humbert was unable to resist even as he was dragged upward, strangled.

    Both his hands had already been sliced off.

    As Humbert struggled frantically in the air, Miss Uroboros spoke with a hint ofughter in her voice.

    [I''ll ''assist'' you, too. Let''s go ''Old Era'' with me].

    "?"

    What does ''Old Era'' mean? Isn''t it usually ''New Era'' when someone wants to wee something together?

    Humbert questioned her words even as his consciousness slowly faded.

    Then Miss Uroboros whispered another word into his ear.

    [The ''Warring States Period''.]

    That was thest thing Humbert heard in his right mind.

 Chapter 291: Confessions (1)

    <h4>Chapter 291: Confessions (1)</h4>

    The entire Imperial Capital was in shock.

    Bourgeois patriarch Bartolomeo has been assassinated, and Cardinal Humbert of Quovadis, a pious man, has gone missing.

    The culprit was med on the Night Hound.

    Night Hound broke into a dinner party where Bartolomeo and the students of the academy were gathered, targeted Saint Dolores among the students, and staged a cowardly hostage situation, during which Bartolomeo made a heroic sacrifice to save them all.

    A holy, heroic death indeed.

    Unfortunately, most of the survivors who were saved by Bartolomeo''s sacrifice said they had no memory of it.

    A student named Piggy imed to have fallen asleep and didn''t see anything at all, while a student named Sinir, who was present at the scene, suffered from aphasia and short-term memory loss due to an overdose of sleeping pills, a blow to the head, and psychological shock.

    Finally, St. Dolores, who had been taken hostage herself, stated that she did not see anything because she had an eye patch over her eyes.

    The incident was put to rest when the acting patriarch of the Bourgeois Family, Demian J Bourgeois, issued an official statement stating that the situation would be resolved as quickly as possible and that the chaos would soon subside as there was a sessor in ce for the patriarchal position.

    ...But.

    Even if there is a big incident in the whole country, it is human and small citizens who feel that the small things in front of them are more important.

    Academy Colosseo.

    Here, the focus was on the uing final exams and parent-teacher conferences.

    Even if a Bourgeois assassination was shaking the entire empire, nothing could be more important to the students than their exams.

    "Now, let''s start reorganizing the gym to prepare for the final exams!"

    "Don''t forget to check your magic stones, just in case!"

    "Is it okay for the trails for parents to explore to be this scenic? Let''s nt more trees!"

    "If possible, we ntrge trees. I''m sowing a lot of flower seeds too!"

    Soon, parents were visiting the school, and there was a massive beautification project going on all around the school.

    Upon his return, Principal Winston began a massive greening project.

    Large trees and beautiful flowers were nted throughout the school, and the sound of soft music echoed in the air.

    He was also very disappointed with the damage to the magic wall during the recent midterms, so he added new magic stones to make it stronger.

    Beautification and security. These were two of Principal Winston''s main priorities.

    The students'' opinions were divided.

    "Why is the principal doing such arge-scale construction project as soon as hees back, when the school is busy?"

    "Well, he''s been away and hasn''t aplished much, so he has to do this in a hurry."

    "Hey, the school is halfnd and half trees. It''s not like he''s crazy about trees...."

    "We''ve gotten a lot of mana stones, so the magic wall will be very strong."

    "Oh no. The parents areing, so look at the showcase construction.

    "Oh no, I heard that even the seven major families are sending representatives for the parent observation ss."

    "Hey, I heard that some families even have the patriarch himselfing."

    Meanwhile.

    Dolores has recovered from her shock at Bourgeois and has returned to the front lines as student council president.

    Contact with contractors, selection of magic stones andndscaping trees, negotiation of unit price, transportation andndscaping and more....

    She was at the forefront of all theseplex tasks.

    "Soon, parents will be visiting the school. Many high ranking people areing, including the seventh family of the Empire, so let''s not skimp on the hospitality."

    At Dolores'' words, the student council officers were hard at work.

    Most families send their dignitaries by proxy, but on rare asions, the head of the familyes in person, so every detail had to be taken care of.

    While many students prepared to wee the honored guests.

    ''Phew....''

    Dolores sighed inwardly.

    ''I can''t wait to meet Piggy and Sinir.''

    She had seen Piggy a few times since that day at the Bourgeois family, but never Sinir.

    The diligent kid had skipped ss and locked herself in her dorm room, nevering out.

    No part-time job, no volunteer work, no clubs.

    Everyone was stunned by the change in the normally conscientious Sinir.

    ''She seemed very confused, After all, it''s natural to be shocked when you see someone die right in front of you.''

    Dolores is a saint and has seen many people in pain and dying, so she has minimal psychological resistance, but Sinir is amoner girl who grew up with a clear head.

    Naturally, she was shocked.

    ''I''m d she didn''t say anything in front of the press, though.''

    Sinir is smart, she''s not the kind of girl who would drop a bombshell in an interview without a backup n.

    ''By the way, you said you were sharing a room with Bianca, right?''

    But Bianca said she and Sinir hadn''t been getting alongtely, and she wasn''t in the room much.

    ''I can''t do this.''

    Dolores realized that she needed to visit Sinir''s room, even if it was just tonight.

    And to do that, she''d have to catch up on her work.

    "Come on. Let''s get back to it."

    Dolores cheered herself up and grabbed a pen to start filling out the paperwork.

    ...And in the midst of all these big and small changes.

    .

    The final exams of the first year of the 20th ss have begun.

    * * *

    One weekter.

    As the final exams areing to a close, the results of the Ranking Battle are almost out.

    The final exam was organized by dividing the scores recorded during the midterm exam into sections to categorize the levels, and then students in each sectionpeted against each other to collect partial scores.

    Top scorers were promoted, bottom scorers were paid. This simple rule motivated all students.

    During the midterms, Vikir, who was the overall leader of the ss, defeated the Lowbro and Midbro from the Cold ss and lost to the Highbro.

    In Cold ss, Bianca defeated Sancho in a close match to advance to the finals, where she faced off against Tudor.

    In the Hot ss, Grenouille and Sinir face off in the final.

    The matches between Tudor and Bianca and Grenouille and Sinir was scheduled to conclude the final exam in a grand manner with all parents in attendance.

    The four students had been working particrly hard to prepare for this highly anticipated final.

    Among them, Sinir''s enthusiasm and tenacity were so great that they left everyone speechless.

    ... Push!

    The door to the gravity chamber opened and Sinir walked out, her body drenched in sweat.

    A ck sleeveless tee andbat uniform pants.

    Sinir, who had just withstood 11 times the force of gravity with no mana, sat down in a chair with an exhausted expression.

    "...whoa."

    No one approached Sinir as she sighed heavily.

    That''s because Sinir had been holed up in her dorm for a while, but now that she''s out in the open for finals season, she''s showing an unprecedented amount of determination.

    Every single one of the Hot ss elite she''d faced so far in the finals rankings had beaten in less than a minute.

    This was despite the fact that they were aces who had performed well enough at the midterms to be in the same tier as Sinir.

    Sinir became extremely quiet and her every move became monotonous.

    Sleep. Eat. Train. Sleep. Eat. Train. Sleep. Eat. Train.

    She didn''t talk to anyone around her, and waspletely focused on the task in front of her.

    Rtionships with friends became strained. Her tone of voice and eyes were cold, as if she was intentionally trying to distance herself from them.

    It was as if she had be a different person overnight.

    She also stopped volunteering at the orphanage, which she would force herself to do if she didn''t have time.

    When she sent letters to the children at the orphanage saying that she missed them, she crumpled them up without reading them.

    She also quit all her part-time jobs that she had been doing responsibly.

    When Bianca, who shared a room with her, expressed concern, she was silent.

    Then.

    "...!"

    Sinir, who had been paying no attention to her surroundings, suddenly looked up.

    At the same time, the door to the front gravity chamber opened and someone stepped out.

    ...Push!

    13 times the gravity. A feat aplished entirely with a bare body.

    Vikir stepped out in a cloud of steam, drenched in sweat.

    Then Sinir spoke up.

    " ... You''re still awesome."

    Sinir, who had been acting like she was closing in on all the connections around her, was the first to speak to Vikir.

    Vikir nodded and wiped the sweat from his face and body with a towel.

    Sinir scrambled to her feet and followed closely behind.

    "What''s 13 times gravity like?"

    "How do you survive without using mana?"

    "What do you usually eat, and when do you sleep?"

    "How the hell did you get so strong, what kind of training did you do?"

    "Did you just lose to Highbro this time because you can''t stand the attention?"

    .

    .

    As far as Vikir could see, Sinir was still the same as before.

    She was still the same curious, cheerful girl.

    ... but.

    Even Vikir could tell that Sinir''sst question had a slightly different tone to it.

    "What are you doing tonight, hyung?"

    "Assignment."

    "It''s not going to be an overnight assignment, and it''s not that hard."

    "I have assignments for my other sses. It''s a night job."

    "...Tch."

    Sinir''s lips twitched at Vikir''s bluntness.

    "You don''t have time forte at night, or even at dawn? I''m not going to sleep!"

    "If it''s dawn, the assignment will be done, why?"

    Vikir asked, and Sinir hesitated for a moment, then spoke as if summoning great courage.

    "...if it''s okay, would you like to have ate-night snack in my room?"

 Chapter 292: Confessions (2)

    <h4>Chapter 292: Confessions (2)</h4>

    The night sky was turning blue.

    A small knocking sound echoed in the hallway in the dark early morning.

    Click-click-click!

    The sound of the doorknob turning is low.

    But even so, the door didn''t open immediately.

    Vikir looked around for a moment.

    The girls'' dormitory was eerily quiet at night.

    There''s a faint smell of footsteps or improperly driedundry, snoring that can be heard even through the closed door, and shared lockers that show signs of destruction.

    All in all, it''s a scene not unlike the hallways of a fraternity house.

    Vikir double-checks that no one else is awake.

    Hmm...

    The door opened softly and shyly.

    "Hyung-ah?"

    Sinir stuck her head out from inside.

    Seeing the look on Vikir''s face, Sinir smiled widely and said in a low voice.

    "Come on in."

    The door swung open and the warm air inside felt good against his skin.

    The room, smelling sweetly of some unknown berry, wasn''t very decorated, but it seemed quite serene with a few decorative items that gave it a cozy, antique feel.

    "Bianca, aren''t you in the same room?"

    "I think she was sleeping in another friend''s room. She''s not really on speaking terms with metely."

    "I thought you two were best friends, why all of a sudden."

    "...It''s just. It''s all my fault. Hehe-"

    Sinir greeted Vikir with a cool smile.

    She was wearing a white T-shirt and pink dolphin pants and had a wet towel around her neck.

    Her short, still-dry hair smelled faintly of shampoo.

    "Come on, hyung-ah!"

    Sinir threw something at Vikir.

    Vikir caught it out of the corner of his eye and realized it was a can of beer with cold droplets on the surface.

    Sinir smirked and pulled out the snacks.

    "It''s gettingte, so we can''t eat. Please bear with me even if the snacks are a bit meager."

    "No problem."

    "Good. By the way, are you good at board games?"

    Sinir pped her hands and pulled out various board games from under the bed.

    Simple games with simple rules, like Jenga, RummyCube, and Uno.

    "How is it? Would you like to y for the first time in a while?"

    "...It''s been a while."

    Vikir nodded.

    Board games were something he''d yed tirelessly with hisrades in the Internal Affairs Squad before the regression.

    But for some reason, the memories of that time came before the memories of his old volunteer work at the orphanage.

    ''I must have gotten dull,''

    Vikir realized how much things had changed since his regression.

    Both in his surroundings and in himself.

    Whoosh.

    Sinir ran her hands through her hair as she looked at the crumbling Jenga.

    "Ah~ Really. Why does it always have to be me!"

    "It''s all about the center of gravity. If you don''t lean to one side or the other and keep your center, you''ll never fall."

    "Tch. Easier said than done."

    Sinir pouted her lips and stacked the next jenga, only to knock it down again shortly thereafter.

    "Hyung-ah, I can''t y board games with you, I swear. Why are you so good? You look like you''ve been doing this since you were a kid."

    "There was a time like that."

    "Huh?"

    Sinir''s eyes widen like rabbits.

    Instead of answering, Vikir simply closed his eyes in silence.

    Soon, the number of empty cans of beer crinkling together began to increase.

    Sinir''s expression rxes slightly as she sobered up.

    The reddish blush on his exceptionally white skin was deepening.

    "I want to go see the Milky Way."

    Sinir mumbles, and Vikir thinks for a moment.

    ''When I''m feeling down, I alwayse here and look at the Milky Way.''

    This is what Sinir once said.

    ''Now that I think about it, this girl said she goes to the rooftop if he has any worries.''

    Drinking canned beer on the roof with a clear view of the Milky Way was probably Sinir''s only stress relief.

    But now that Milky Way viewing spot is off-limits.

    Student Body President Dolores has personally blocked it off.

    "...It was our meeting point while we prepared to hunt Belial.''

    Vikir stroked his chin, then spoke in a low voice.

    "You must be disappointed that Student Council President Dolores blocked the rooftop."

    For a moment, Sinir noticeably flinched at the mention of Dolores'' name.

    Her eyes, as wide and clear as ake, looked deep for a moment.

    Vikir didn''t miss the agitation.

    "What happened with the student council president?"

    Vikir asked again.

    There was no way Vikir didn''t know what had happened in Bourgeois the day before.

    But there was something strange about it, and he wanted to go over it again.

    ''I thought you weren''t the kind of character who''d have a mental breakdown just from witnessing a demon and a demon hunter fight.''

    Vikir looked at Sinir with a bit of disbelief.

    Sinir, however, kept her head down and remained silent, mute.

    "...."

    "...."

    Silence settled over the room. Vikir waited patiently, carrying a heavy silence.

    Finally, the answer came.

    "I''m nning to drop out."

    It was so unexpected, so far from the intent of the question, that even Vikir''s eyes widened.

    ''What? In the world before the regression, Sinir would have dutifullypleted all four years and graduated from the Academy....''

    Literally.

    Sinir is an Alpha Girl who hasn''t missed a beat since her freshman year, when she was ranked first in her ss, until her senior year.

    Along the way, she has risen to the position of vice-president as a sophomore and student council president as a senior, only to disappear from the world as soon as she finishes her senior year and graduates from the Academy.

    But now the reality has changed.

    Sinir has announced her dropout just before the end of her freshman year, with only one final exam to go.

    "Of course, I haven''t told anyone yet. Hyung-ah is the first person I''m telling."

    Sinir smiled weakly.

    Vikir asked briefly.

    "Is it because of the student council president?"

    "No, it has nothing to do with the president, of course. It''s just that I''m so exhausted and tired...."

    It was obvious that Sinir was lying.

    Vikir knew that before her regression, she had graduated straight and at the top of her ss from freshman to senior year without taking a single leave of absence.

    "I think it was burnout. I''ve been wanting to quit school for a while now, so I''ve been acting cold to the kids on purpose to keep them away and...."

    Sinir continued.

    But Vikir didn''t listen to her.

    He just cut to the chase.

    "Apparently, you had a problem with Student Council President Dolores."

    "Uh, no. It''s just that I''m a little...."

    "Is it because of what happened at Bourgeois?"

    For a moment, Sinir''s expression hardened before Vikir could finish his sentence.

    ''Of course.''

    Vikir realized he''d hit the nail on the head.

    It had happened in Bourgeois. The night of the hunt for the 6th corpse, Belial.

    Sinir looked particrly shaken.

    "Oh, no, nothing happened that day...."

    She waved her hands in the air in great embarrassment.

    But.

    Tuck-

    Vikir wordlessly reaches out and grabs both of Sinir''s hands.

    "What happened."

    "...!"

    "What''s got you in so much pain."

    "...."

    Sinir''s pupils dte for a moment, then tremble slightly.

    Seeing it, Vikir was once again convinced.

    Demon battles are always a terrible memory for humans.

    The more high ranking the demon, the longer and more intense the battle.

    Vikir was no stranger to this type of counseling, having seen many of hisrades-in-arms suffer severe after-effects after demon hunting.

    ''If it''s post-battle trauma, I can help you ovee it.''

    Vikir didn''t want Sinir to go into hiding from the world when she could be a great help to the Human Alliance in the future.

    But.

    Sinir''s next words were certainly not what Vikir was expecting.

    "...He killed."

    "What?"

    Vikir asked, and Sinir spoke again, her voice shaking violently, her pronunciation uncharacteristically inurate and slurred.

    "Night Hound killed my father."

    Hearing those words sent a bolt of lightning through Vikir''s head.

    There was only one thing Night Hound had killed that night when it had bitten Bourgeois from within, and that was Belial.

    And the human body it had taken, the host. It was none other than Bartolomeo, patriarch of the Bourgeois family.

    ''That means....''

    Vikir began, trying to organize his many thoughts and open his mouth to say something.

    Wg-

    A weight leapt into his arms.

    Sinir leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Vikir''s body.

    The warmth on Vikir chest suggests that Sinir has been crying.

    Vikir froze in ce, unable to push her away or hold her.

    "...."

    "...."

    They stayed like that for what seemed like forever.

    ...How much time had passed?

    Eventually, Sinir''s trembling gradually subsided.

    The hound''s mouth was half open, but he hadn''t yet found the words to say to themb that had burrowed into his arms.

    Just then.

    Sinir lifted her head from burying it in Vikir''s arms and looked up.

    "Now it''s your turn to answer."

    And then, with watery eyes and a trembling voice, she asked.

    "...What do you think of me, hyung-ah?"

 Chapter 293: Confession (3)

    <h4>Chapter 293: Confession (3)</h4>

    Vikir was distracted for a moment.

    ''...Esse, Non Videri.''

    To exist, but not to be seen.

    Two heirs to the next pinnacle of the Bourgeois Family.

    One was Juliet, the daughter of the second son Demian, and the other was the child of the eldest son, Bartolomeo.

    Gender unknown, age unknown, nothing known.

    ''Coincidentally, my brother and I both have only one daughter.''

    If it weren''t for Demian''s words, I wouldn''t have known that Bartolomeo''s child was a daughter.

    Demian''s daughter, Juliet, was revealed to the world when she dropped out of the exam, but no one knew where Bartolomeo''s daughter was or what she was doing.

    It was unclear if she even existed.

    ''Sinir was Bartolomeo''s daughter.''

    Vikir stroked his chin in thought.

    For some reason, Juliet had seemed so familiar when he first saw her.

    Perhaps it was because they shared the same blood.

    ''Then I think I know why she disappeared from the world after graduation.''

    After graduating from the Colosseo Academy, Sinir probably became the patriarch of a Bourgeois family.

    She would have moved about the world behind a great veil of darkness, unseen by the world.

    An upper ss so distant that lower-ss warriors like Vikir before his regression could not dare to have an audience with them, or even knew that they existed at all.

    The VVIPs of the world.

    ... But even the tree that would grow so tall in the future is only a tiny leaf now.

    "Hyung-ah, what do you think of me?"

    Sinir had asked this awkward question while sobbing in his arms.

    Sinir''s question brought Vikir back to reality.

    "...Now. What is the purpose of asking this question?"

    A question about what you think can''t really be a question about what you think.

    Vikir is not stupid.

    On the contrary, he prided himself on being pretty quick on his feet.

    At Vikir''s retort, Sinir pursed her lips and rubbed her eyes before answering with a grimace.

    "Because being in a rtionship with hyung-ah is the only aplishment I want to aplish before I drop out and leave the Academy."

    An aplishment...?

    Vikir''s mouth opened halfway.

    Was dating really such a big deal that it sounded like an achievement?

    But Sinir seemed to have something else in mind.

    " ... Originally, I was going to finish my fourth year, get my diploma, and then turn my back on the world. ''Excellent GPA,'' ''numerous extracurricr awards,'' ''valedictorian all four years,'' ''student council president,'' ''graduate of Colosseo Academy.'' I figured those were the most valuable things I could get out of school, out of my youth."

    Sinirughed bitterly for a moment before continuing.

    "So I didn''t understand her at first, because I had a cousin who dropped out of the academy she attended."

    She must be referring to Juliet, who had attended Themiscyra Academy for Girls.

    Sinir squeezed Vikir''s hand a little harder.

    "But I think I know how you feel now, because I''ve changed my mind. The most valuable thing you can gain from school life is not grades, diplomas, awards, or certifications."

    It''s the memories you make with the people you''re with.

    Sinir''s eyes were filled with conviction.

    Vikir asked thoughtfully.

    "Why do you put such value on me? I''m not good enough for that."

    "If you think about it that way, what kind of person am I?"

    Sinir emptied a can of beer and cupped it in her hand.

    "...You are. I wonder how long I''ve had a crush on you. I wonder, too. Let''s see."

    She closed her eyes and opened her mouth with clear pronunciation and a pure voice.

    What she experienced, centered around her, from her perspective.

    Slowly, Sinir''s mouth began to recite the memories of her freshman year in ss 20.

    * * *

    ''Why do I have to go out?''

    The little girl asks the old butler while hugging her teddy bear.

    The butler simply bows his head politely and replies.

    ''When you grow up ande back, everything will be yours.''

    With thosest words, the little girl leaves the family home.

    Nursery school. The little girl studied diligently. When other children were defeated or discouraged, she always glowed with enthusiasm and hope.

    A prestigious small school. The girl was discriminated against as soon as she entered the school. Whether it''s her performance on performance evaluations, even if cleaning duty returns strangely often, there is also subtle discrimination, gossip, and harassment that is invisible to the eye. The girl persevered.

    The oue wasn''t always fair, but on the whole, in retrospect, it was pretty fair.

    All the discrimination faded away in the face of excellence and continued proof.

    The kids who gossiped behind her back gradually became eager to make friends with her, and the teachers who looked at her with prejudice because she was from a nursery school gradually became favorites.

    Her appearance, which began to glow with age, changed everything.

    Soon, against all odds, she had risen to the asion, and at an unusually young age, she was granted early admission to the Colosseo Academy, the most prestigious university in the Empire.

    At the top of her ss.

    She was thrilled that her skills would be recognized in such arge ce.

    And the much-anticipated Colosseo Academy.

    ''Survive somehow, and rise above. If they help you, use them, if they don''t, discard them mercilessly.''

    She thought back to the words her father had spoken to her as a child, and took the freshman oath.

    And her first ss.

    There was no student smarter than her.

    Even at the most prestigious universities in the empire, she could hold her own.

    She breathed a sigh of relief at that realization.

    Then.

    A boy caught her eye.

    At first nce, he was ordinary. Messy hair that is not easily noticeable. Amon name that could be found everywhere. So-so grades and interview performance.

    But in the ss that followed, the boy gave the professor, who purposely picked questions for students to get wrong, a good smack in the face.

    ''...Hmm. I see. A perfect score on the paper.''

    The boy''s written grade, even the picky professor recognized, was a perfect score. It was even higher than the girl''s score of 931 out of 990.

    The girl''s next highest score was in the 700s, so the difficulty level of the test was, needless to say, the worst. However, there was a perfect score and it wasn''t the girl.

    From then on, the girl was curious about the boy.

    That was the first time, maybe. It was the first time she felt like she wanted to get to know someone.

    The girl is objectively pretty and has a good body. She was attractive not only intellectually but also physically. She is in a good position to benefit from interpersonal rtionships.

    So she was confident when she approached the boy. She was confident that he wouldn''t dislike her.

    But she had always been approached by others, but this is the first time you have approached someone else. So the girl spoke to the boy in a slightly awkward manner.

    ''Hey, I''m....''

    She asked him why he was volunteering. The boy''s answer was simple.

    "I''m here for my demerit points.''

    ''...ah.''

    Usually, when people are asked why they volunteer, the answers are obvious.

    Fulfillment, giving back, sacrifice, etc.... all sound good.

    But not the boy.

    A boy who walks away like he''s a bother.

    The girl followed him, feeling a bit out of ce, as this was the first time she had ever been treated this way.

    ''It''s a coincidence that we''re both volunteering at the same ce.''

    ''I guess so.''

    Actually, it wasn''t.

    The girl had gone out of her way to beg and plead with the person in charge to get the same volunteer assignment as the boy.

    And that day, she thought she''d gotten to know him a little bit. Because she talked to him.

    After bombarding him with questions about his written grades and not getting any answers that she liked, she thought he was a bit of a prick.

    But.

    Despite the demerit points, the boy was very eager to volunteer.

    She was amazed to see him do the dirty work that would take dozens of people to do, like cleaning toilets, serving meals in the cafeteria, fixing plumbing, doingundry, ying with kids, and maintaining the yground.

    ''... This guy is good.''

    That was the first time in her life she had ever genuinelyplimented someone.

    From that day forward, the way she called him changed.

    ''Hi! Good morning!''

    ''?''

    ''Oppa, why don''t you pretend to know me!''

    ''I didn''t realize you were addressing me, and we''re ssmates, so don''t call me oppa.''

    ''Why? I''m a year younger than you, and you''re still my oppa, no matter how you say it.''

    ''It''s just that it''s ufortable to hear....''

    ''Really? If you don''t like it, we can call you something else. I''ll think about it until lunch.''

    From then on, the girl started calling the boy ''Hyung-ah''.

    ''You don''t have much of an immunity to girls, do you?''

    The girl was surprised.

    The boy''s bare face, revealed when the bushy hair that often covered his face was shaken, was shockingly handsome.

    She could only shake her head in disbelief, thinking that he must have attracted several girls already.

    Whatever. From then on, whenever she saw him, she often assumed she knew him.

    Maybe it was from that moment on.

    The moment she stopped calling him ''oppa'', which everyone else liked, and started calling him ''hyung-ah'', which was a bit unusual.

    The moment when the boy have someone who calls him by a special nickname.

    Could it be that the girl''s defenses, which she didn''t even know existed until now, has begun to shift?

    When she approached him with a strange emotion she didn''t recognize, he said something shocking about parents.

    ''I don''t need parents. You have to navigate the world on your own. Parents only function during childhood when help from others is essential, and are unnecessary beyond that.''

    The girl was a little shocked that anyone in the world would think this way.

    Whether in a nursery or a prestigious school, children''s thoughts were always the same.

    Love for parents.

    Whether it''scking or fulfilled, children always draw on it, because so did the girl.

    But boys didn''t.

    And so she came to admire him. And she also pitied him.

    A lot of things happened after that.

    They drank together and got part-time jobs. When she watched him save his friends from an ident during midterms, she felt her heart beat hard.

    It was the same when students from her cousin''s sister''s school attacked her on the train to the University League.

    ''Thank you for helping me earlier, I was really scared. They seem like strong sisters.''

    ''I was scared too.''

    The boy''s nonchnce made herugh out loud and genuinely.

    And then she thought.

    This boy in front of her is the only one who can open up and close down her heart like that.

    * * *

    "I suppose it''s not much of a surprise, now that you mention it."

    Sinir rubbed the corners of her eyes andughed.

    Vikir remained silent for a while after Sinir finished speaking.

    Perhaps the awkward silence was too much to bear. Sinir spoke again.

    "And... I''m telling you the biggest problem I have right now. I''m confessing it, and I''m telling you what it looks like."

    "...."

    "Like I said, Night Hound killed my father, and I don''t know if you''ll believe it, but Student Council President Dolores was right next to him."

    "...."

    "The only person I trusted in school was in league with the man who killed my father. I don''t know who to trust, my friends, my professors, I don''t know who to trust, and that''s why it''s so hard to be at school."

    Sinir finished and looked up.

    "I thought maybe you''d believe me, since you''ve been writing a column in the newspaper criticizing the Night Hunters for a while now, and I''m sure you''d know what a heinous criminal night hound is."

    "...."

    "You''re the only one I have now who will understand me...."

    Sinir dropped her head, unable to finish her sentence.

    Only to squeeze Vikir''s sleeve.

    But.

    "I''m sorry, but I don''t think I can ept your heart."

    Vikir shook his head firmly.

    For a moment, Sinir''s grip on Vikir''s sleeve tightened.

    "I know. That''s what I thought hyung-ah would say."

    "...."

    "I''ve only ever seen one person with eyes like yours, and that''s my father."

    Sinir said.

    "He''s the kind of man who pushes forward with a goal that a normal person like me can''t even fathom. I can see it in your eyes. You''re the same kind of man my father is."

    "...."

    "I''m pretty, fit, and young. I''m good with a sword and magic. And most of all, I have the ability and patience to understand and support you in all aspects of your life. I won''t get in your way. I''ll be really good."

    "...."

    "...Why can''t I? What can I do? What can I do to make hyung-ah realize that I...."

    At that point, Vikir cut Sinir off.

    "Now is not the time to think about things like rtionships."

    It makes sense. A demon hunter''s idea of a rtionship is something his deadrades wouldugh at.

    There''s nothing more unsettling than a man who doesn''t know when he''s going to die building a family.

    What you must protect and what you cannot lose will only be a weakness.

    Vikir shook his head thoughtfully, and Sinir''s expression brightened slightly.

    "...''Now?''"

    "?"

    Vikir looked up, and Sinir hit the nail on the head again.

    "Not right now, you mean, ''for now''. So you''ll have some time to spareter, after you''ve achieved your goal?"

    "My goal is a long, long way off. I''m still a long way from reaching it...."

    "I know. For someone of your stature to say that, it must be a grand ambition."

    Sinir looked determined.

    "Then one day, when you''ve aplished everything you want."

    "...."

    "Will you take me in then?"

    It was an awkward question.

    Vikir thought about it for a moment, then nodded.

    "If that day everes."

    "Okay, then."

    Sinir nodded, slipping out of Vikir''s arms and sitting up on her knees.

    She lifted the can of beer in her hand and downed thest of it in one shot.

    Vikir quietly rose from his seat.

    "It''s gettingte, I''d better get back."

    Then. Sinir got up and followed Vikir. And then she opened her mouth.

    " ..., can you at least give me a hug before you go?"

    At those words, Vikir swallowed hard.

    Still a small, young girl. But one who would one day stand at the pinnacle of that fearsome conglomerate Bourgeois family.

    How many hardships and trials did this weak child go through before regression to be a great hero whose name was not revealed to the world?

    Feeling guilty and indebted to Sinir, Vikir closed his eyes tightly.

    Then.

    Tud.

    Sinir wrapped her arms around Vikir''s waist.

    "You can push it away for the rest of your life."

    "...."

    "So just for now. for now, I need you to stay like this."

    There is moisture in the thinly trembling voice.

    "Haha...I wasn''t really this kind of person...."

    Her muttering, self-effacing and cool, is obscured by Vikir''s chest puffs.

    Vikir paused for a moment, deep in thought.

    ''I don''t have much time left to stay here either.''

    Like Sinir, Vikir nned to leave Colosseo Academy soon.

    His next stop would be a ce so harsh and difficult that it would make the Academy feel like a cradle.

    Simr in appearance to the Colosseo''s architecture, which symbolized glory and prosperity, but its symbolic meaning ispletely different.

    A fearsome structure that reigns as a testament to hardship and trial itself.

    ''...Nouvelle Vague. And the Age of Destruction.

    The curtain rises.

    Soon the full-scale war against the demons will begin.

 Chapter 294: Last Semester (1)

    <h4>Chapter 294: Last Semester (1)</h4>

    "...."

    Vice Principal Morg Banshee.

    He frowned as soon as he got out of bed and into the morning light.

    His face did not straighten as he took off his cute, mismatched sleeping cap, eye mask, and pajamas.

    "Not a good dream."

    He had a strange dream the other night.

    A nightmare so unpleasant that it left not only his clothes but his bed soaked in a cold sweat.

    It was a dream of a giant one-eyed snake and a unicorn fighting each other.

    The one-eyed snake wrapped itself around the unicorn''s massive body, squeezed, and tried to swallow it in one bite.

    The unicorn tried to resist by waving its horn, but everything was in vain as soon as the one-eyed snake opened one more of its closed eyes.

    With its left eye glowing an unusually golden color, the snake wrapped itself around unicorn and swallowed it in one bite.

    "Why, this is such a bad dream on a day when I have to report to the principal. Is it because of stress?"

    Professor Banshee grumbled and got ready for work.

    He walked out of the guesthouse and made his way to the lecture hall.

    He ignored the greetings of his students, and even those of his fellow professors, and headed straight for the principal''s office.

    In his hand, he carried a stack of reports that he had prepared untilst night.

    Knock-knock-knock.

    The knock ended, and the door opened by itself.

    Inside, Principal Winston sits with his usual mild expression.

    "Well, Professor Banshee. I see you''re early."

    "Yes. About a minute and a half early. If you''re in a hurry, do you want me to wait outside the door until your appointment?"

    "No, no, no. Juste on in."

    Winston motioned for Professor Banshee toe in.

    Banshee dropped a stack of reports in front of him.

    "This is the ounting for the greening of the school."

    Winston had redesigned the Academy''sndscaping as soon as he returned to his position as principal.

    Greening. It was a project to more than double the number of trees and nts on campus.

    Winston had a gentle nature and loved nting trees.

    The principal''s office alone was filled with nts of all kinds, and no one thought it was strange.

    "We also put in new magic stones."

    During the recent midterms, a student named Vikir had found a gap in the magic wall and entered the arena through it.

    It was a potentially disastrous event if misused, and Winston had increased the Academy''s security with the new magic stones.

    However, Professor Banshee was skeptical.

    "Compared to the old ones, the new ones have the advantage of better mana efficiency and higher hardness of the magic walls, but their durability hasn''t been proven yet."

    "Hahaha. Isn''t that why you alternated the old and new magic stones, so that the invaders wouldn''t know where the old magic walls are and where the new ones are, and they''d be confused... no, there wouldn''t be any invaders in the first ce."

    Winston finished and looked at Professor Banshee with sympathetic eyes.

    "You''re always concerned about the safety of your students, I admire that."

    " ...I''m just a little guy who''s worried about preserving his position."

    "That''s not true, Professor Banshee, and I know that even though you say it on the outside, you don''t feel it on the inside, so I''ve worked hard to live up to that."

    As he spoke, Winston held something out in front of Banshee.

    It was a bracelet decorated with ck seeds that looked like jewelry.

    The seeds had grayish roots that grew out from beneath them, and it was designed to be sized to fit around the wrist.

    "It is the key to passing the new magic wall. It''s a bracelet type. These days, many people are recing locker rooms in bathrooms and gyms with something like this, right? It looks like the security is good."

    "So it''s an artifact that contains magic, do you think you can mass produce it?"

    "I''m making them by hand whenever I have time. I''ve already made enough for the students, I just need to distribute them. I''ll make some for the professors when I can afford it."

    Winston smirked, and Professor Banshee grunted and groaned.

    Then he thrust a new sheet of paper in Winston''s direction.

    "That''s enough of the security stuff. Next on the agenda."

    "Hmm? What is this? I don''t think I''ve been briefed before."

    "This is not a formal report, but there''s something I wanted to bring to your attention personally...."

    "Hoo-what is it?"

    Winston stretched his neck toward the document with interest.

    Professor Banshee hesitated for a moment before speaking.

    "The mood within the Imperial Capital has been oddtely."

    "What does it mean to say it''s not unusual...?"

    "Look at the statistics."

    Professor Banshee gestured to the various graphs, diagrams, and charts in his papers.

    "There has been a subtle increase in criminals within the Imperial Capitaltely."

    "That''s because whenever there''s a big event in the Imperial Capital, there''s an influx of people."

    "No. This is the rate of increase in crime rtive to the iing poption, which means that the crime rate itself is higher than normal due to the influx of people."

    Professor Banshee narrowed his eyes. Then, in a cold voice, he analyzed the current situation.

    "Criminals from across the Empire have been flocking to the Imperial Capitaltely. Reports of witnesses to wanted criminals have also increased."

    "That''s a big deal. What is the Imperial Guard doing?"

    "Strangely enough, they''ve noticed that their arrest rate has dropped a lottely. They say the criminals have been fleeing suspiciously, as if they knew in advance that they were going to be arrested, and some of the most wanted criminals have even be elusive, which leads them to wonder if someone is helping them run and hide...."

    "I see, but what does that report have to do with the Academy right now?"

    "Well, as the principal knows, we''re about to have finals and parent-teacher conferences at the same time, and with the way things have been goingtely, I thought you might want to push back the date...."

    Then Winston chuckled.

    "Isn''t this Colosseo Academy the ce where geniuses who will one day be the great heroes of the Empire are educated? And the professors who teach them? And the parents of the students, every single one of them. The backbone of the Empire''s military might."

    "...."

    "This is where all these great peoplee together. Who cares if there''s a bunch of criminals running around outside?"

    "...."

    "But I understand and respect your caution, Professor Banshee, and that''s why I, too, am concerned with improving security by recing the magic stone, isn''t it?"

    Professor Banshee could only nod.

    Well, no matter how hard the criminals out there try, they won''t be able to do even the slightest harm to the parents whoe here.

    They weren''t an ''organization'' in the first ce, they were lowly beings who had no ability or reason to harm the Academy.

    "Indeed. And a final report."

    Professor Banshee turned to Winston.

    "It concerns the matter of Professor Sady''s dismissal."

    For the first time, Winston''s expression changed.

    He had a truly embarrassed and sad expression.

    " ...Did Professor Sady cause something again?"

    "Yes. We''ve received a tip-off that she has been dishonest in her duties as an advisor to the Imperial Guard."

    "...Uh-oh."

    "It''s said that she was sloppy and negligent during search and intelligence activities, getting into feuds with colleagues, losing or missing important supplies or information, and even showing up unauthorized during arrests, which weter found out she had fallen asleep in her office while drunk."

    "Haha... that damn alcoholism. Professor Sady is a very capable person if she doesn''t drink."

    "That too is a thing of the past. To be sure, back in the day, Professor Sady did a fine job as an advisor to the Imperial Guard''s tracking team, in fact, so much of the criminality of the time was captured by her that it almost rivaled the exploits of the Marquis de Sade in his heyday. She was even called ''the seconding of the Marquis de Sade,'' but now she''s just an alcoholic loser who does nothing but bemoan her lot and deny reality."

    Professor Banshee snapped, as if he had a lot on his te.

    Then Winston closed his eyes and fell silent for a moment.

    Silence. A heavy silence.

    Winston opened his eyes and spoke with a heavy sigh.

    "I''m going to discipline ...."

    "Something as light as a pay cut or suspension cannot be epted...."

    "Understood, I''m going to use my title as principal to severely discipline her in this case."

    Only then did Professor Banshee shut up and retreat.

    I was wondering if saying that would end up as a light punishment.

    After his report, Professor Banshee walked out of the principal''s office.

    Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud.

    As Professor Banshee walked down the darkened hallway, a ck shadow flickered by his side.

    Stopping in his tracks, Professor Banshee spoke in a low voice.

    "Did you recognize it?"

    The shadow behind him leaned in behind Professor Banshee and spoke.

    "Yes. There was definitely a lot of stuff going on behind his back."

    The Banshee had unleashed a separate informant to do a background check on the principal.

    ''I''d like to know why you''re so cheap with Professor Sady.''

    It was enough to get rid of her as an eyesore.

    Then. Professor Banshee''s confidante told him something surprising.

    "Principal Winston''s affection for Professor Sady wasn''t due to any of these trivial things, full honors for a descendant of nobility, to be an elite arresting agent with a high rate of arresting criminals, and to increase the number of members of the principal''s faction, which is already very small, by at least one more... It wasn''t because of these little things."

    "Then what was it for?"

    The confidant answered in a very small voice.

    "Perhaps it has something to do with the ''47 people riot''."

    It was a report that made Professor Banshee''s eyes widen to tears.

    * * *

    "Now- today''s lesson is about the major events since the Unified Empire~"

    The professor said, tapping the ckboard.

    The first-year students were listening to the lecture with eager expressions.

    The professor said.

    "There are many big events that happened after the Unified Empire, such as the ''Western Front Barbarian Subjugation'', the ''Merger of the Five Swordsmen'', and the ''Great Escape from Nouvelle Vague Prison'', but... the biggest one would have to be the ''47 People''s Riot''. Who can tell us about this event?"

    A few hands went up among the students.

    The professor pointed to the first student to raise his hand.

    "Okay. Let''s see if Sinir, the head of our Hot ss, can answer."

    There was the sound of a chair being dragged out and a female student rose from her seat.

    Sinir, a girl with white hair and a calm voice.

    She calmly began to share what she knew.

    "The ''47 People''s Riot'' was an unprecedented event that urred thirty-five years ago, when the Empire had just been unified. It was caused by 47 people, but each and every one of them was the head of a family, hence the name ''47 Family Riot''."

    "That''s great, can you tell me more about it?"

    "It was a rebellion in which 47 people staged a coup d''��tat, ughtering countless people and storming the imperial pce. As a result, 46 of the 47 were summarily executed on the spot, and the one survivor is currently imprisoned in the ''Nouvelle Vague'', a prison in the remote corners of the continent. It is also believed that their motives for staging the coup are still unknown, and that they were simply after the throne...."

    Sinir answered without a pause, and the students around her let out a small gasp.

    "Hasn''t something changed, Sinir?"

    "Huh? Like what? I think she''s still smart."

    "Not that, I mean her demeanor, her vibe."

    "Ah, yes, she''s been strangely coldtely."

    "But that''s kind of charming, too. It''s like she''s grown up."

    "That''s what I was thinking, too. She''s grown up overnight. She''s gone from a girl to a woman."

    She was always a cheerful little girl.

    Sinir, who used to remind me of a yful puppy, has changed a lot in recent days.

    For some reason, something has changed in her that is impossible to pinpoint, but she has grown quite mature overnight.

    In the same way that a girl grows into a woman through some unknown process of her own, Sinir seemed to calmly ept and embrace the inner changes that were happening to her.

    When she finished and sat down, the professor pped.

    "That was a good answer, Student Sinir, and I hope you''ll be just as good in your final exam for Hot ss this afternoon."

    The professor nced around the room.

    "As I''m sure you all know, not only you but also many parents wille to the final exams that will be heldter."

    There''s no way the students don''t know that.

    For the past few days, there has been no fuss about the greening project, security project, or whatever, and the principal personally nted trees and nts and rearranged the magic stone.

    So the students were mostly moody.

    After all, the finals were for Tudor and Bianca, the cold ss, and Grenouille and Sinir, the hot ss, because it was the stage for these four and they were the bridesmaids..

    While some students were excited to see their families for the first time, others were worried that they would be scolded for their poor grades.

    Is that why? The professor revealed another piece of news to get their attention.

    "And guess what, we''re about to have a new friend in our school!"

    A new student. That''s always a fresh interest.

    One student raised his hand and asked.

    "Professor, is there a transfer studenting?"

    "That''s a great question, but unfortunately, no, not a transfer student!"

    The professor waved his finger in the air.

    "It would be more correct to say that it''s a transfer student, not a new student, this is because it was not transferring the academic records from another school, but rather enrolling in a new school during the semester. Anyway, it''s good to have new friends!"

    "Wow �C what kind of friends are they �C girls, boys, ages, and oh yeah, I''d like to know what ss they''re in too!"

    The students asked curiously.

    The professor smiled and replied.

    "Gender is female. Her age is 19, which is one year younger than the average first-year student, and she belongs to the Hot ss. Since she is transferring from the famous ''Mage Family Morg'', I think you can learn a lot from her. Her name is...."

 Chapter 295: Last Semester (2)

    <h4>Chapter 295: Last Semester (2)</h4>

    Parent observation sses have begun.

    The training ground for the final exam rankings.

    Tudor and Bianca, the cold-ss students, and Grenouille and Sinir, the hot-ss students,pete against each other.

    Other top-performing second-year and third-year students also take the stage.

    The same goes for Dolores, the student council president and third-year senior.

    The scene was being presented as an example to a crowd of parents.

    Parents and children met inside the academy and exchanged greetings.

    "My boy �C I''ve missed you! Are you eating well?"

    "Uh-huh. By the way, daughter, why aren''t you joining the ranking battle over there?"

    "What? Is that where they decide the head of the ss? Aha, it''s not a stage where normal kids stand."

    "Next time, make sure you get to stand up there."

    "It''s a relief to know that my child is in a ss with such brilliant kids."

    "You should definitely surround yourself with friends like that, that''s what we sent you to Colosseo Academy for."

    As the parents react with encouragement, pressure, and praise, a newpetition and socialization is created.

    This is what parent-observation sses were designed to do in the first ce.

    Meanwhile. Tudor and Bianca, who are about topete in the final exam, were exchanging nerves even before the match.

    "I can''t embarrass my father when he''s watching, so I''m sorry, I''m going to have to step on you."

    "My father''s here too, so I can''t let you off the hook today."

    "You say that like you usually do, but your midterm grade was lower than mine."

    "That''s not true, I was above you."

    "You were 6th, and I was 3rd?"

    "Yeah, but that''s before the performance evaluation, attitude points, and extracurricr points... I''m one point higher than you."

    "Are you even taking all that into ount? I don''t care. Today, I will overturn all the little things."

    "Turn over? You must have said turn over in the wrong way."

    "What kind of person do you think you are, talking like a girl? You''re so bad."

    "What''s a girl got to do with it? If you put it that way, why are you such a weakling?"

    "I''m not weak, just wait until we start a match."

    "You suck."

    "You suck, too."

    Tudor and Bianca continued to argue.

    Meanwhile. There was an icy silence between Grenouille and Sinir in the Hot ss.

    It was Grenouille who broke the silence first.

    "Hey,moner. As of today, I, Grenouille, the newest member of the Aristocracy faction, will be taking over the leadership position."

    "...."

    "Not even the top of the ss and the next student council president can go to amoner!"

    "...."

    "Noints, huh?"

    Grenouille gripped the weight as hard as he could, secretly hoping Sinir would respond.

    But nothing came back.

    "...It''s also childish."

    Sinir muttered, looking off into the distance at the mountains with an unmoved expression.

    Her usual innocent, sunny childlike demeanor was gone, reced by the vibe of a much older sister.

    Grenouille didn''t know why Sinir had changed so much overnight, but for some reason he felt his heart pounding.

    Next. The professor''s voice echoed through the audience.

    [Attention mothers and fathers, the final round of grade-level exams is about to begin!]

    The final event of the final exam was about to begin.

    * * *

    "...."

    Quite a distance away from the training grounds where the final exam ranking game was being held.

    A person stood on a wicker bench with an old well.

    Dolores L Quovadis. A third-year student and student council president.

    The final match of the final exam is decided to be hers.

    Once thepetition between a total of four first-year and second-year students in the Hot and Cold ss ispleted, it will soon be Dolores'' turn.

    But right now, she has something else on her mind, something more important than her final exam.

    It was the matches of the Hot ss first years. Specifically, Sinir.

    ''...What should I say to Sinir?''

    Sinir, who advanced to the finals today, was told that no one would show up during parent attendance.

    Dolores thought she would approach Sinir after the game, when everyone''s attention had faded, and try to talk to her.

    ''But how do I talk to her?''

    After that day at the Bourgeois, Sinir had avoided seeing Dolores.

    She seemed to be warming up to everyone, but she was being unusually closed off to Dolores.

    ''... It''s not surprising, after what happened to her.''

    Dolores sighs, unsure of how to approach Sinir.

    "...!"

    Her eyes went wide for a moment.

    A familiar face passed in front of her.

    A male student trudging towards a well in the distance. It was Vikir.

    Suddenly, Dolores remembered Sinir''sment.

    ''By the way. Why don''t we ask hyung-ah to join us?''

    Dolores remembered the first time she''d created an Oracle Investment Fund to hunt Belial.

    ''... Is he interested in something like this?''

    Dolores asked, and Sinir replied with a bright smile.

    ''Vikir''s pretty good at it too, he reads all the newspapers all the time, so he knows what''s going on in society, andtely he''s been really interested in economics, like trade with the natives in the west, and he''s been going through all the old economic papers too, and he''s really keen!''

    ''Hyung-ah oftenes to the library, so I''ll have to talk to him when I''m a librarian.''

    ''Oh, that''s right~ Hyung, I don''t know where you are wandering around like that these days. Piggy is in the same room, so do you know anything?''

    At that time, Sinir seemed to have quite the crush on Vikir.

    If so, they must have been quite close.

    Dolores jumped to her feet. She was going to ask to speak to Sinir.

    Just then.

    A young child ran in front of Dolores.

    Ebony hair, red eyes, white skin, and chubby cheeks. Cute like a doll.

    It was only a brief glimpse, but the little girl, who was adorable from head to toe, was running toward Vikir in front of her.

    Then she turned to Vikir and said something unbelievable.

    "Daddy-!"

    The words shocked Dolores.

    He''d heard that the docile kitten was the first to climb the shack, but wasn''t this one climbing too fast?

    ''Oh, no. Who the hell is her mother at that age?''

    Dolores stops dead in her tracks.

    ...Tud, Patter-

    Vikir grabbed the girl by his side and quickly began to run forward.

    "Huh? Huh!"

    Dolores hurriedly scrambled down the hill from the bench, but Vikir had already taken off down the path by the well in the distance.

    * * *

    Vikir headed toward the less traveled path.

    Stopping beside an old well, Vikir set the girl down from his side.

    "Pomerian, when did you get here, and who is your guardian?"

    "Hehe- sneaking off with Big Samchun(uncle). He never lets me y."

    At Pomerian''s yful words, Vikir put his hand to his forehead.

    The news that ''they'' had traveled to the Imperial Capital for parental visits hade through Cindiwendy not long ago.

    ''Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro seem to be doing a good job of dealing with them, so I guess I let my guard down.''

    I''m sure there will be some chaos when they realize Pomeranian is gone.

    I had to get her back on track before that happened.

    Vikir grabbed Pomerian''s hand.

    "Come on, let''s go. Your uncle will take you to the front."

    "Ugh!"

    Pomerian still stiffened at Vikir''s words.

    As they walked down the path below, holding hands, Vikir carefully asked about Pomerian''s condition.

    "How''s the Wraith Tree doing these days?"

    "It''s growing well, but sometimes I have nightmares at night!"

    "Nightmares? What kind of nightmares?"

    "When I have nightmares, I keep seeing demonic thingse out and bite me-"

    Pomerian shuddered once.

    Vikir nodded and patted Pomerian''s head.

    "The demons in your nightmares have nightmares, too."

    "Who''s in the demons'' nightmares?"

    " ... This unclees out."

    In an eerie voice, Vikir pulls out the Beelzebub on his wrist and shows it to her, and Pomerian''s eyes sparkle with yearning.

    "Oh wow- Uncle Mercy."

    "So you don''t have to fear any demons or anything. You have this uncle."

    So Pomerian can continue to grow her Wraith Tree without any pressure.

    One day, it will add great power to the human alliance.

    Just then.

    Someone grabbed Vikir''s cor as he was about to leave the well.

    The moment when Vikir turned his head in surprise at the hand that approached him without any sign of affection.

    "Ugh, I''m thirsty. Where''s the well here, old man?"

    An old woman appeared somewhat unexpectedly and was pulling the end of Vikir''s coat cor.

    Shabby white priest''s robes, hunched waist, round face, sses resting just barely on the bridge of her nose, eyes squinting as if in sorrow.

    At first nce, she''s just another old woman.

    But when Vikir saw her face, he couldn''t help but be surprised.

    ''This person...?''

    Here was the biggest variable in the parent observation ss.

 Chapter 296: Last Semester (3)

    <h4>Chapter 296: Last Semester (3)</h4>

    "Oh my, I''m thirsty. Where is the well here, old man?"

    A in-looking old woman asks.

    But Vikir couldn''t treat her like an ordinary old woman.

    "...Nabokov L Quovadis I.

    Pope of the Lun Order. Quovadis Family. The oldest of the few remaining ssical Saints. A literal ''living legend'' who has been alive for over 200 years, from the time of the Warring States of the Unified Empire to the present day.

    ''Before the regression, she was only a figure in history books.''

    Pope Nabokov had been dead and buried before Vikir''s regression, when Vikir joined the War of Destruction as a middle-aged man.

    She was originally thought to have been poisoned by Humbert, a man blinded by power.

    But now that Humbert is missing, her life has been extended beyond the future she was supposed to live.

    ''The future has changed.''

    That''s why she was the biggest variable in the parent observation ss.

    How much will Pope Nabokov help the future of humanity?

    It was something Vikir didn''t know, as it hadn''t happened to him before his regression.

    ''Seeing it in person like this...I don''t think it will be of much help.''

    In person, Nabokov I was not in good shape.

    It''s hard to tell from appearances, but Nabokov I had a small physique, sunken eyes that could barely recognize things in front of her, and a slight hint of dementia.

    Then.

    "Water, where''s the water~ you old man!"

    Pope Nabokov began to protest.

    She pped Vikir''s head with a trembling hand.

    Vikir was momentarily silenced by the attack, whichcked any real power.

    " ...Among therades who crossed the front lines of destruction together, those who were priests alwaysmented whenever they got the chance. If only Pope Nabokov were still alive, the Humanity wouldn''t have fallen so far.''

    Of course, Vikir was at a time when he didn''t believe in anything unless he had experienced it himself.

    But no matter how he looked at it, he saw no strength or power in the woman with dementia in front of him.

    It was a far cry from when he''d met Count CaneCorso, who was of a simr age.

    Finally, with a small sigh, Vikir shook his head.

    "The drinking fountain is this way. I''ll get you some water."

    "I''m thirsty old man. Hurry up!"

    Vikir led Nabokov to the water fountain in front of them.

    It was arge jar-shaped drinking fountain, filled with crystal clear water, and beside it was a bowl hanging on its side.

    It looked like an ordinary spring.

    Vikir grabbed one of the bowl.

    With it, he scoops up clear water.

    ...Jruuukk!

    Water began to leak out from under the bowl. There was a hole in the bottom.

    "Oh no. It''s leaking, let me get you another one."

    Vikir puts down the bowl and picks up another one.

    with a plop-

    The bowl sank into the water.

    "?"

    Vikir turns his head and sees Nabokov standing next to him, tossing the cracked bowl into a jar of water.

    "This way it won''t leak."

    "...."

    Nabokov isughing hysterically, and Vikir stares at her.

    The cracked bowl was indeed not leaking, because it waspletely underwater.

    Nabokov turned to Vikir and said.

    "Old man. Whatever is natural is best."

    "...Natural? What is that?"

    "What is natural is natural. Do I really have to tell you that?"

    Nabokov''s eyes curved in kindness as she studied Vikir''s face.

    "The answer is to leave the cracked or holed bowl as it is. A hole or a leaky bowl can be filled by wrapping it in something bigger and embracing it. Holholholhol-"

    But.

    "But won''t that make it undrinkable?"

    Nabokov''s eyes narrowed at Vikir''s words.

    "If this happens, the bowl will sink to the bottom of the water and you won''t be able to drink it."

    "Huh? So what...."

    "And since this is drinking water that everyone drinks together, you should not engage in such unhygienic behavior."

    "......."

    Nabokov''s mouth is half open, at a loss for words.

    "Pope!"

    In the distance, Dolores could be seen running toward them, panting.

    Behind her came a contemtive-looking Mozgus.

    "Pope! You''re here! I''ve been waiting for you for ten years!"

    "Holholholhol...."

    Mozgus quickly approached and picked up Nabokov.

    "And Luther?"

    "Unfortunately, he couldn''t make it, as he has a performance for the elderly today."

    "Eih- so typical of him."

    "Are you here for water? Would you like me to pour you a ss?"

    "No thanks. I''m not drinking."

    "Then why are you here...."

    Nabokov pulled her gaze away from the bewildered Mozgus and looked back at Vikir.

    Vikir stood still, Dolores shuffling beside him.

    Nabokov''s eyes curved more benevolently once more as she watched them.

    "Don''t try to force the gap, It''s best to embrace everything naturally."

    "?"

    "Thank you, young man. You''ve put my mind at ease."

    Nabokov patted Mozgus on the shoulder as she finished speaking.

    As she turned away with unintelligible words, behind her was a cracked bowl filled with water that had sunk into a water jar.

    "...."

    "...."

    Vikir and Dolores were left alone.

    "Bye, Samchun!"

    A moment ago, even Pomeranian had taken Nabokov''s hand and left.

    ....

    After a moment of silence.

    "Hmm. Hey...."

    Dolores was the first to speak.

    "I thought you were talking about filling a cracked bowl with water earlier. The Pope is a bit distracted these days. Don''t pay too much attention to her. She has been saying strange things a lottely..."

    But as she says this, Dolores seems to be pondering Nabokov''s words from earlier.

    ''I need to be able to manipte the ''resonance'' phenomenon that I felt when I put the blessing buff on Night Hound, and to do that, Pope advice is essential.''

    The Pope. The oldest of the ssical Saints, and the one with the highest divine power.

    ''You know, the old ssical saints often talked about awakening back in the day, and I wish I''d taken them to heart instead of dismissing them as empty words.''

    It''s something that Dolores realized when she fought Dantalian.

    Ever since then, Dolores has needed Nabokov''s advice to be more helpful to Night Hound.

    Nabokov was showing signs of dementia, so her advice was limited.

    Dolores set her jaw in a serious expression.

    She thought back to the fight with Belial not long ago.

    ''Don''t be so hard on yourself. We''re allies.''

    Night Hound''s words made her cry andugh at the same time.

    The moment he recognized her as an ally had ignited a fire inside her.

    But it was a world away from the resonance she''d felt in her fight with Dantalian, so Dolores plucked up the courage to ask.

    ''Night Hound, tell me your name!''

    Dolores asked for his name in order to close the distance between her and Night Hound, to understand him more deeply.

    ''I need that ''resonance'' phenomenon to increase my divine power! It doesn''t have to be your full name, I don''t mind, but could you at least give me a small portion of your name... that I can call you?''

    ...And with a little selflessness, of course.

    And that''s when she heard his name for the first time.

    ''...Van.''

    His name, the one She was curious about.

    The touch of his hot breath, which she could still remember clearly, made her ears burn red once more.

    Amon name. The process of getting to know each other through their names.

    There was indeed a mystical power in names.

    Just by hearing it, Dolores could propel her exhausted body to perform incredible miracles.

    ''Yes, that''s it, that''s it!''

    A phenomenon that could not be done to anyone else and could not be exined.

    A miracle that could only happen when she was with Night Hound... or Van.

    Dolores felt her heart beat rapidly once more as she recalled that moment.

    At the same time, her mind raced.

    ''When I heard the name ''Van'', which is part of Night Hound''s name, the resonance width increased dramatically. Perhaps the distance between us was the problem. The closer the distance, the stronger the effect of the divine buff. How can I reduce the distance between Night Hound and me further, so that we can create a stronger resonance....''

    Night Hound and Dolores, the gap between them is still wide.

    As long as there is this gap, Dolores'' divine power cannot resonate perfectly with Night Hound''s soul.

    Soul Mate. The element for a saint''s awakening.

    Soul resonance requires the assimtion of emotions, and that can only happen with an understanding of each other.

    Dolores wanted to get to know the character of Night Hound.

    She wanted to understand his fate, empathize with his pain, and be ready to sacrifice herself for him.

    And yet? Dolores was getting impatient.

    And the more impatient Dolores became, the more impassable the road ahead became. It''s true of dreams, hopes, futures, and rtionships.

    ''Night Hound. I want to know more about you, I want to meet you.''

    A look of determination that reporters once mistook for a deration of holy war.

    Now it''s a look of pity.

    Right then.

    [...Yep! That''s it, we have a winner of the second year ranking battle, and now it''s on to the much-anticipated third year �C the final ranking battle to determine the third year head of ss!]

    In the distance, the announcement for the third year finalists could be heard from the training center.

    Dolores gasped and said.

    "Ouch! Vi, Vikir, over there. I was actually looking for you because I had something to tell you, but s, I''ve run out of time."

    "I was intending to go down, too. Why don''t you tell me as you go?"

    "Uh, sure, thanks. Actually, it''s about Sinir. I''d like to talk to her, and I was wondering if you might be able to arrange a meeting with her...."

    Vikir nodded in agreement with Dolores.

    ''Even if we talk, there probably won''t be much gain.''

    Sinir''s mind was already made up. A few words would probably not change it.

    So instead of focusing on Dolores'' words, Vikir looked at other things.

    "...A tree, and a magic stone.

    The trees that lined the path down to the training grounds, and the magic walls that rose up along the Academy''s outer walls.

    Vikir scanned them with a sharp gaze.

    ''The arrangement of the tree roots and magic stones is quite exquisite.''

    If the trees and magic stones were ced separately, it wouldn''t matter, but if they were mixed together in such a clever way, it would be a security risk.

    Moreover, these newly arrived magic stones had a very slight but distinct ''scent'' to them.

    A ''demonic scent'' that only Night Hound could smell.

    ''It''s time to leave the academy.''

    A considerable amount of time has already passed since I stayed here. A ce that I have be attached to in my own way.

    "...."

    But even so, Vikir turned his head resolutely away.

    Making all his wishese to nothing.

    A terrible fight will soon take ce from which he may never return.

 Chapter 297: The Age of the Warmonger (1)

    <h4>Chapter 297: The Age of the Warmonger (1)</h4>

    With the conclusion of the ranking battles between the first, second, and third years, the final exams at Colosseo Academy havee to an end.

    The students will now join their parents in the auditorium for the closing ceremony.

    Shortly thereafter, students will head home with their parents for vacation and a brief counseling session on their academic performance over the past year.

    Students, professors, parents, and more crowded into therge auditorium at the center of Colosseo Academy.

    And there was one person who stood out from the crowd.

    A huge figure, almost 3 meters tall.

    A man dressed entirely in the skin of a sea lion with fearsome tusks and a massive spear on his back the size of a whaling ship''s harpoon.

    A handsome man with blond hair like a beast''s mane and a bold look wasughing.

    "Son, congrattions on your victory! This father can''t stopughing!"

    Don Quixote La Mancha Cervantes, King of the Sea, patriarch of the Don Quixote family.

    He wasughing cheerfully, repeatedly patting his son Tudor on the shoulder.

    Then he heard a sullen voice beside him.

    "Is that what you want me to hear?"

    A skinny figure, but tall enough to rival Cervantes in stature, a face as pale as a corpse''s,rge but gloomy eyes, bloodlessly thin lips, and long hair as thin as a spider''s web.

    This is Usher Poe Roderick, the Bow Demon and patriarch of the Usher family.

    He nced at his daughter Bianca, who was following wordlessly behind him, before fixing his gaze on Cervantes again.

    "I am congratting your son on his victory. Although I don''t know if it''s a win worth celebrating."

    "What? All wins are worth celebrating. Are you trying to tell me that your daughter lost to my son and was only runner-up, huh, like a little sissy?"

    "What do you mean, like a sissy? No way."

    Usher turned to Bianca, who was following him.

    "Daughter, I want you to tell me, in your own words, why you withdrew from the final round of thest match."

    "Yes, father."

    Bianca''s gaze shifted to Usher''s back.

    There was Tudor, in a furious mood.

    "I have no taste for performing in front ofrge crowds, and I''m not a monkey before an apothecary."

    "What! A monkey!!! Then why have you been fighting to the best of your ability all this time!"

    "... Are you really an idiot? Until the finals, we''ve been fighting privately amongst ourselves in the school, and from the finals onwards, parents will be watching. I don''t want to expose my family''s arcane archery to anybody."

    So Bianca had dodged Tudor''s spear at the crucial moment, only to walk out of the arena and withdraw.

    Usher smirked.

    "A monkey before the apothecary. Don''t be so usatory, daughter, there''s aw in the Empire called ''Crime of defamation based on fact and timing''."

    "Yes, father. Thew is strict and must be followed. Apparently there''s a saying in the far west called ''You''re worthy of attention.''."

    Usher and Bianca rushed towards the main auditorium with the attendants following them.

    Then Cervantes, Tudor, and the Don Quixote family attendants who were left behind began to snort in unison.

    "Stop! Hey, Usher, you Gloomy little bastard, why don''t youe over here and y a game with me, ugh!"

    "Bianca, you''re this..., you''re so futile! Come on, get back in the game!"

    It looked like a father and daughter really looked alike.

    But the gaze of the surrounding people quickly shifted.

    In addition to the Ushers and Don Quixote, there were many other great people worthy of note.

    For example, Hobbes De Leviathan, the patriarch of the Leviathan family, and his youngest son, Grenouille De Leviathan.

    Nabokov Lun Quovadis I, patriarch of the Quovadis family of Faithful Saints, and Dolores Lun Quovadis, direct sessor.

    Iron-Blooded Swordsman: Osiris Le Baskervilles, small patriarch of Baskerville Family, and his half-siblings, Highbro Le Baskerville, Midbro Le Baskerville, and Lowbro Le Baskerville.

    The seven pirs that support the empire, each family rivaling the power of a nation.

    It was a sight to behold, with the leaders of all the Families gathered in one ce, except for the tycoon Bourgeois and the Mage Family Morg.

    Meanwhile.

    The crowd walked along the main street surrounded by magic walls and trees and finally reached the main auditorium.

    There, the professors had already prepared their speeches.

    The vice principal''s speech, then the principal''s speech. Finally, after the first, second, and third year students are awarded their certificates, the ceremony is over.

    Everyone was buzzing with anticipation for the uing vacation.

    Then, Professor Banshee stepped to the front of the podium.

    [Good evening, students, staff, and parents, I am Morg Mu Banshee, your new vice principal].

    Professor Banshee. His snake-like eyes scanned the crowd gathered beneath the podium.

    ''The power of the principal''s faction is small. Principal Winston is ipetent and has been out of office for so long that he will probably fall soon, which will leave me as the next in line.''

    It was natural for Professor Banshee to make this judgment.

    Ever since he took over as vice-principal, he has been steadily recruiting rank-and-file professors to work under him.

    They''re called the "sympathetic faction".

    The number of principal faction professors gathered under the podium was extremely small.

    The professors of the sympathetic faction are lined up on the side of the podium, pressed by the momentum and unable to make a sound.

    And this power struggle between the professors was affecting the students.

    ''Aristocrats faction''. And the "Baron faction". Both of these organizations that divided the top students were unofficial, but they were definitely a force, and their positions were under the control of the sympathetic professors.

    Sympathetic professors supported by baron and aristocratic students. And of course, the person the sympathetic professors supported was Professor Banshee.

    On the other hand, the organization under the less powerful principal faction professors is the official organization, the Student Council.

    The aristocratic and baron students under the vice-principal professors.

    And then there are the principals, who are the ruling party, and the student council, which is not well organized.

    Professor Banshee could see all these factions at a nce.

    And then.

    In front of him was Dolores, the student council president and a third-year senior.

    She looked tired, like she''d been overworked for days.

    Professor Banshee looked at her and clicked his tongue.

    ''Unfortunately, this is the situation of adults. The circumstances of young children are naturally influenced by the circumstances of adults. There is no principal, Dolores, the student council president.''

    Professor Banshee''s eyes shifted as he thought about this.

    "...!"

    His eyes widened slightly for a moment.

    This was because there was an empty seat between the rows of professors who were already few and far between.

    It was obvious who was missing from this important event.

    ''Professor Sady. Is this person really....''

    Banshee was speechless with disbelief.

    The crazydy professor didn''t even show up for her own speech?

    What an insane person with nothing to say and no answers.

    From Principal Winston''s point of view, it''s probably better if she doesn''te at all.

    It would be a shame to lose a professor to a personless principal faction, but... it''s different when it''s a troublemaker who gets into trouble all the time.

    Professor Banshee was genuinely curious. Why would Principal Winston want to keep such a troublemaker at the school.

    Was it respect for the Marquis de Sade''s blood, once a great nobleman? Or Professor Sady''s formidable strength? Or his record of arresting countless criminals over the years? ...Maybe just fill in the numbers?

    ''No, no. No.''

    Professor Banshee recalled his confidant''s report from a short while ago.

    ''Principal Winston''s favoritism towards Professor Sady probably has something to do with the ''47 riots''.''

    Although the report was nothing more than a few spective theories based on circumstantial evidence, the fact that the incident was even mentioned in the first ce was incredibly serious.

    ''...Principal bastards. What on earth are you nning?''

    Professor Banshee nced coldly to the side of the podium.

    There he saw Principal Winston waving to the students with his usual mild expression.

    What could he possibly read into that innocent expression?

    With a short sigh, Professor Banshee spoke from the podium.

    [With love and respect to all those gathered in the Colosseo, I would like to say that our academy is proud to announce that this year''s....]

    The consequential stories continued for a while about how many graduates got jobs in prosperous jobs, what noble academic achievements they made, and what great human beings they became.

    [...Students at Colosseo Academy may have an emotional dislike for their parents and teachers who are strict with them, but these are precious people who are teaching their children and disciples who will soon embark on a difficult journey, the stamina and wisdom to ovee hardships and adversity. For those of you who have just entered the school, and for those of you who will soon be leaving it, we wish you all the best for the year ahead].

    Several students are in tears.

    Professor Banshee continues his speech, his voice hard but warm.

    [May there always be something to do in your hands, may there always be a spare coin in your wallet, may there always be a path at your feet, may you be slow to make enemies and quick to make friends, may your neighbors always respect you and mean people never pretend to know you, May the wind always blow at your back and the sun always shine in front of your face; may rain sometimes fall on your journey, but soon a rainbow will appear; may you be poor in misfortune and rich in fortune, and may the saddest day you ever have be better than the happiest day you ever had. And I will pray with all my heart that your destinies may always be full of peace and love, hope, prosperity, achievement and satisfaction.]

    Professor Banshee concluded his speech with a short(?) sermon.

    The students'' apuse burst into a loud cheer.

    The students from the aristocrat n and the baronial n were especially supportive.

    And with that, Principal Winston stepped up to the podium.

    He looked back at the students with a smile that betrayed his age.

    [I''m feeling a little overwhelmed by all the nice things the vice principal has said, haha �C I should have thought of something better to say].

    A light chuckle from the crowd echoed through the auditorium.

    Then. With a serious expression and voice, Winston began his speech.

    [It may bemon advice, but... I want to tell you to make the best of every moment].

    He looked around with an appealing gaze and said.

    [As those of you who know me will know, I''ve been taking a sabbatical from the academy for the past few months or so, as my health has be quite poor due to the mana surge].

    Winston''s long absence as principal had allowed Banshee to skip a lot of formalities and step right into the position of vice principal, and now he had pushed aside the principal faction and was all but in control of the academy.

    Few of the parents, professors, and older students were unaware of thisplex power structure, so they all nodded in silence.

    In the meantime, Winston''s pleas became more and more heartfelt and sincere.

    [I''ve been sick, and I know how precious health is, and how precious this moment is, and how we have to live every moment to the fullest because we don''t know if we''re going to die tomorrow, or today, or in just a few hours, minutes, or seconds].

    He looked at the students in the front row and said.

    [And that''s true for everyone, even if you''re not a hero like a soldier or a firefighter putting your life on the line, it''s true for you right now. You are human beings who slip on the floor while taking a shower and hit your head on the tub and die. Or you get sick from eating your favorite seafood, or you get hit by a falling potted nt, or you get a sudden mana surge].

    The mood of the students became slightly somber at the principal''s words.

    [You never know when you''re going to die, that''s why you have to live every moment to the fullest. Students, don''t forget the preciousness of life and time even during the uing vacation period, and live a life without regrets even if you die tomorrow, or this very moment...!]

    Then.

    ...Poof!

    A small sound resounded.

    The sound of thin leather being torn apart and the soft things inside bursting.

    The sound was not very loud, and the time itsted was extremely short.

    ... But it was enough to interrupt Principal Winston''s long speech and all the audience in the auditorium who were listening to it stop breathing for a moment.

    [...Kuhugh!]

    A gush of ck blood erupts from Principal Winston''s mouth.

    Something came out from behind the stage curtain and shot through Principal Winston''s back and through his heart.

    A knife? No, it''s too long for that.

    A spear, then? No, it''s too loose to be a spear.

    Long, and writhing like a snake.

    ...Pusyug!

    It was a single ''whip'' that drove a fountain of blood from Winston''s chest and back.

 Chapter 298: The Age of the Warmonger (2)

    <h4>Chapter 298: The Age of the Warmonger (2)</h4>

    ...pusyug!

    A single ''whip'' pierced Principal Winston''s heart.

    Giggle-!

    At the same time, a burst ofughter loud enough to fill the great hall erupted.

    A woman in glossy ck tights and high heels walked through the curtain behind the stage.

    Ms. Uroboros.

    It goes without saying that the whip that ended Winston''s life in an instant was hers.

    Her appearance caused a momentary pause in the hall.

    It was the first time she had ever appeared in public.

    But Miss Uroboros didn''t give them time to adjust to reality.

    "Ugh... uh, ughhhh!"

    Winston. He copsed on the stage and waved his arms.

    Who would have thought that an outstanding swordsman, as much as a swordmaster, would be like this in an instant, in front of everyone.

    And then.

    ...Quack!

    Miss Uroboros crushed Winston''s body once more with the heel of her long killer heel.

    A perfect confirmation kill. Winston''s heart exploded, and he died on the spot.

    ttang-geng!

    His sword of winter, Orwell, a sword that looked like the horns of a unicorn, fell to the ground and rolled.

    "Ah, I finally got it. The ''key''."

    The silence was broken by Miss Uroboros picking up Orwell.

    Aaahhhhh-

    And then the screams. Students, parents, and professors in the audience screamed in unison.

    And in the face of all this chaos, Miss Uroboros removed the mask that covered her face.

    Professor Banshee, who hade down from the front row after his speech, his eyes widened to tears.

    "Sa, Professor Sady!"

    Yes, the famous viin who had been causing a stir throughout the Imperial Capital. The criminal mastermind responsible for countless crimes.

    It was none other than Professor Donatien Alphonse Fran?ois Sady de Sade, the Academy''s troublemaker!

    "Hohohoho- Ah, I would kill for this vor."

    Sady chuckled at themotion around her.

    Then Professor Banshee eximed in disbelief.

    "You''ve finally gone mad, stabbing your benefactor in the back for saving your life."

    Principal Winston, who had nurtured and supported Sady all these years. But now she had killed him. A favor repaid with an enmity.

    The professors, rarely siding with Banshee, began to rage.

    "How could you do that to Mr. Winston, who raised you from a mere baby with nowhere to go for so many years, you beast!"

    "If it weren''t for Mr. Winston, you would have been a dead wretch long ago!"

    "Ungrateful bitch, what a devil you are!"

    "You''re doing the same thing you did with your grandmother; you can''t fake blood after all!"

    But.

    "Ah- quacking. It''s not like we''re at a duck farm."

    Professor Sady rubbed her ears with one hand. With her other hand, she moved the whip ever so slightly.

    However, that slight amount of kic power is amplified to a tremendous amount by the time it reaches the tip of the whip.

    The physical force delivered by the tip of the whip devastated the ground near where the professors were standing under the podium.

    "Kuhagh!"

    Swordsmen and mages of high rank are thrown to the floor.

    All eyes turned to the aura at the end of Professor Sady''s whip.

    "Liquid aura!"

    "Mmm, judging by the density, it''s Graduator supetive!"

    "Good thing that bitch hasn''t reached Master yet!"

    "But isn''t that bitch''s weapon a whip...."

    Everyone stops when they see the whip in Sady''s hand.

    In fact, whips, bows, and chains, among other cold weapons, are considered quite irregr.

    In the right hands, these types of weapons can take your fighting to the next level.

    A whip, for example, is a misshapen weapon that requires only a small amount of force to be applied to the handle, and that force multiplies as it travels down the length of the shaft, ultimately generating immense destructive force at the tip.

    The Graduator''s supetive aura begins at the handle of the whip and explodes toward the tip, creating a power that nearly rivals that of a Swordmaster.

    Of course, with great poweres great risk. The whip can easily lose control at the slightest fluctuation, and has been known to attack its owner''s body....

    "Wasn''t Professor Sa, Sady a natural whip master?"

    "Hmmm. I don''t actually have any experience with whips."

    "The whip''s bizarre aura explosion structure, plus the unexpectedness for such a unique weapon...."

    "Perhaps, regardless of her rank, her danger level should be raised to Swordmaster."

    The surrounding professors murmur.

    Then. Professor Banshee stepped forward.

    "Are you insane, Sady? There are tons of professors, students, and parents here. I can only assume that you did this because you wanted to die...."

    "Write it off, old man. I told you not to say my name."

    Sady cut off Professor Banshee''s words.

    Certainly, the Academy has its share of elite students who are stronger than most adult knights and mages, and its share of brilliant professors and parents who have taught and nurtured those elite students.

    Although it is called a school, it is actually an institution that reveres the extreme spirit ofbat.

    There is a solid bureaucratic structure that is divided into grades and sses.

    In terms of power and organization, it''s like a hardened military group.

    But Professor Sady was stillughing leisurely.

    "Hohoho �C when did I ever say I came alone?"

    Doubt and anxiety shed across the faces of everyone who heard it.

    At that very moment.

    Boom!

    A tremendous boom echoed throughout the auditorium.

    It was an impact from the magic wall in the distance.

    Next, several frightening faces began to appear through the windows of the auditorium.

    A hulking figure with a rugged appearance, a beauty radiating decadence, a grizzled old man, and a child with an evil grin on his face. ....

    They were all different ages, genders, and physiques, but they had two things inmon.

    First, they were all heinous criminals hunted by the Empire.

    Second, they had all managed to escape capture and disappear into obscurity.

    Suddenly, a chill ran down Professor Banshee''s spine.

    ''I heard that the rate of criminal arrests in the Imperial Capital has dropped significantly recently. Could it be that the reason is.....?''

    The faces of the criminals in the auditorium were all those whose investigations had been closed due to their disappearance.

    ''Jack the Ripper'', ''The Wolf of G��vaudan'', ''Tiger Champawat'', ''The Bachelor of Powell Street'', ''Son of Sam'', ''Serial Killer Clown'', ''Fashionista'', ''Devil of Lorelei'', ''Dissection of a Frog'' ''The Strangler of Hillside'', ''The Killer on Green River'', ''Bloody Mary'', etc.....

    Here are all the vicious viins that the Imperial Guard could never catch and let slip through their fingers.

    And, shockingly, they''re all looking at Sady, at the center of the stage, with respect, affection, and fear.

    "s, my queen. I broke the magic wall as you asked."

    "Now please torment me some more."

    "Hit me with your whip, stomp on me with your heels, sister-"

    Young and old alike, their eyes are filled with sticky hearts.

    Apparently, they''ve been brainwashed and manipted by Sady, both mentally and physically.

    To these viins, Sady smirked and barked out orders.

    "All of you. Explode."

    The viins responded in unison.

    "Yes, Queen!"

    At the same time, all of them began to hold their breath.

    They let the magic in their bodies explode all at once, and the result was a power surge and a huge explosion.

    Boom, boom, boom!

    With a huge explosion, the auditorium copsed.

    In the shower of falling rebar and debris, Sady chuckled.

    Banshee deployed his magic shield to deflect the falling debris.

    Then, still dumbfounded, he asked.

    "Why are you doing this, have you really lost your mind?"

    The question was meant to get to the heart of the criminal, Sady, as well as to buy time for reinforcements to arrive.

    Of course, Sady knew Professor Banshee''s intentions, but she was generally pleasant enough to y along.

    "It''s not me that''s crazy, it''s the world."

    "...What?"

    "I''ve been waiting all this time to sound the rm on this crazy world."

    "Waiting for what?"

    "For this moment. For the principal to return, to be precise, and for the principal to bring the parents together. Wouldn''t that help my message be conveyed a little better?"

    Then Professor Banshee''s eyes narrowed.

    He spoke in a cold voice.

    " ...is this also because of the ''47 People''s Riot''?"

    At that, Sady smirked and nodded.

    "Did you know that? You''re very well informed, old man."

    Professor Sady spoke again. Her eyes flicked to the students behind her.

    "I''m sure the idiots at your academy understand the incident as nothing more than a coup by power-hungry fools, but the reality is much different."

    At her words, the students briefly recalled an honors student''s presentation in a previous ss.

    -The ''47 People Riot'' was an unprecedented event that urred 35 years ago, when the Empire had just been unified.

    -It was led by 47 people, but each of them was the patriarch of a single family, hence the name ''47 Families Riot''.

    -A treason incident in which 47 people staged a coup, massacred numerous people, and even invaded the imperial pce.

    -Ultimately, 46 of the 47 were summarily executed on the spot, with the one survivor now imprisoned in the Nouvelle Vague, a prison in the remote reaches of the continent.

    -The purpose of the coup is still unknown, but it is generally believed to have been to seize the throne.

    But Sady shakes her index finger.

    "The reason why my grandfather and 47 others staged the coup was because they were nostalgic for the old days."

    "Nostalgia?"

    "Yes. A time when strength was truth, when only the strongest survived."

    Sady''s eyes began to glow with madness.

    "The Warring States Period."

    Everyone, including Professor Banshee, swallowed hard at her words.

    Before the unification of the Empire, not a day went by that the continent was not noisy due to wars between countless countries.

    There were hundreds of men iming to be kings.

    It was a time of constant change, with nations rising and falling every day.

    It was the logic of the Warring States Period that the weak would fall and the strong would rise.

    At that time, the strongest was thew and justice.

    It was a virtue, and it was an honor, to develop strength and repay something that had been done to you.

    Vengeance. Private sanctions. A world where all of these things were driven by the logic of strength.

    ... But since the unification of the continent, this has changed.

    In times of peace, there is no need for strength.

    In its ce,ws were rewritten and institutions were created.

    If you were weak but smart enough, you could pass exams and rise to high government positions and stand over the heads of those stronger than you.

    Large-scale warfare disappeared, and revenge and private sanctions were considered dangerous.

    For a time, even the "abolition of the sword" or "abolition of magic" was seriously considered.

    "Peace turns men into pigs. A being no different from livestock. Aren''t humans the lord of all things created to be strong and fight and win? However, in this world, there are many cases where things that do not deserve to be human dare to wear human masks."

    Professor Sady eximed, her eyes shining.

    In response, Professor Banshee asked in a calm voice.

    " ... I understand, but why did you kill Principal Winston?"

    Principal Winston was a tall man who had sponsored Sady since she was a child.

    It was he who had defended Sady''s grandfather, the Marquis de Sade, when he was imprisoned in Nouvelle Vague for the crimes of the 47 riots, he was the one who prevented his granddaughter from being punished by association, saying it was unfair.

    Professor Banshee sharply criticized.

    "Is this what you get for taking pity on a girl who lost her entire family in one day and was left all alone?"

    But Sady snorted.

    "It was you, Winston, who captured and imprisoned my grandfather, and it was in battle with him that you suffered internal injuries due to a mana surge. Did you think I didn''t know that?"

    "...!"

    "He''s disgusting, and he''s a symbol of the academy, so I had to kill him anyway."

    Sady shrugged.

    The Academy is a means of integrating the warrior into the system. It is a tactic of those in power to suppress and subjugate the power of warriors by cleverly packaging it with words of achievement.

    It is literally a symbol of oppression.

    "Those who wield swords and use magic should be able to roll around on the battlefield, grow in power, build their families, and build their nations. All they can do here is wait for fleshy bones to be thrown at them."

    "So private revenge is honored, and we must risk our lives at the point of a sword for the slightest conflict? How are the powerlessmon folk supposed to live? This isn''t some barbaric society."

    "What do you know? Why should the powerful take into ount the circumstances of the powerless? Why do powerless people always whine because they want to get something for free? If you think about it that way, why don''t you whine about monsters or natural disasters? Simply because we are the same human beings, of the same race? Through words and conversation? Are you being rude to strangers just for that reason? Do you whine to people you canmunicate with, and lie down on people you can''tmunicate with? What kind of cowardly, sloppy logic is that?"

    Sady gritted her teeth and growled.

    "Then I will be your natural disaster! Don''t you dare even think of whining, just ept it, pigs!"

    Sady swung her whip, and another gust of aura rushed in.

    And the number of criminals pouring through the cracks in the auditorium was growing.

    "Sis! I love you! Look at me!"

    "Queen Sady, I would dly sacrifice this body for you!"

    "Kehehe- Kehehehehehehe!"

    Judging from how many criminals she had secretly captured and set aside so far, and how perfectly she had enved them, Sady''s abilities were definitely real.

    Just then.

    ... Thud!

    The head of one of the famous criminals who had rushed forward instantly fell off and rolled on the ground.

    ...Thud, thud, thud, thud!

    And one after another, head after head fleeing. A crumbling mass of criminals.

    Nightmares that once terrorized the entire empire, dying so easily.

    It was a sight that even the mighty Sady could not help but stiffen.

    And then.

    Flutter.

    ck blood is fluttering in the blood.

    Dark ck hair, eyes as bright as blood.

    A man with a dark red aura rising from the tip of his sword was blocking numerous warmongers.

 Chapter 299: The Age of the Warmonger (3)

    <h4>Chapter 299: The Age of the Warmonger (3)</h4>

    ...Puff-puff-puff!

    The aura''s trajectory spun like a wheel, slicing through countless criminals like fish meat.

    A man stood silently in the rain of blood and flesh.

    Everyone swallowed hard when they saw the bloodshot eyes shining through his long ck hair.

    "So this is the Iron Blood Swordsman...."

    "Swordbird Osiris. Young patriarch of the Baskerville family!"

    "How can he be such a swordsman at his age?"

    It was Osiris Les Baskervilles who froze the steps of countless criminals in their tracks.

    That Iron Blood Swordsman was the next patriarch of the Baskerville family.

    Kiririk.

    A neat circle with a radius of fifteen meters was formed with Osiris at the center.

    The outside of the circle was covered in torn bodies and blood, but the inside was pristine.

    Flutter.

    With the hem of his broad blood flowing like ck wings, he was like a grim reaper descending to punish criminals.

    "...What kind of confidence did you show? You bastards."

    Osiris''s question to the raiders was valid.

    Something simr was currently happening all around the Auditorium.

    "You guys! Did youe here knowing who I am? I don''t think you came here without knowing? Because if you did, you wouldn''t be here in such small numbers."

    "...For once, I agree with you."

    The big man smirked and beat the criminal to death with a single strike.

    Don Quixote''s patriarch, Cervantes, smirks in disbelief.

    Next to him is Roderick of the Usher family, looking grim and gloomy as he shoots criminals with arge bow.

    Parents from other prominent families also took up weapons to defend their children.

    "No one touches my daughter!"

    "Whoever touches my son, I will cut his head off."

    "How dare you filthy criminals run amok in the sacred halls of education."

    "Oh no, I bought a house next to the Academy for my children''s education, and now I''m going to lose all my property value. I won''t let it happen!"

    Parents are the ones who will stop at nothing for the safety and education of their children.

    Professors were also on high alert, trying to keep the criminals at bay.

    Osiris, standing at the front of the line, turned to the triplets behind him, Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro.

    "You three are to take Pomerian to the Knights, and stay in the safe zone."

    "Yes, brother."

    Osiris, seeing his younger brothers nod, flew away like a bird and jumped into the battle line again.

    His six fangs were once again tearing at everything around him with ferocity.

    This inspired the parents and professors to join the onught.

    "Hahaha- the young man from the Baskerville family is very energetic, I''ll help him!"

    "I can''t be outdone by a younger fellow, my daughter''s safety is at stake."

    Don Quixote Cervantes and Usher Roderick were also pushing to the front lines.

    The criminals were seemingly being pushed aside.

    ... but.

    "Hohoho, guys, you''re gonna have to blow up too!"

    Sady''s order came out so fast that the raiders'' eyes began to ze over.

    Boom!

    Their bodies inted like balloons.

    Everyone on the Academy''s side gasped in disbelief.

    "Mana surge! Self-destruct!"

    Ominous predictions are always urate.

    Boom, boom, boom!

    An explosion of unprecedented power swept through the area as the Named Viins self-destructed.

    It was enough to destroy the huge auditorium in half.

    * * *

    ...Rumble! Boom! Boom! Kung-!

    Aftershocks linger and shake the ground.

    The criminals who turned into minions became bio-bombs and exploded in unison, creating countless copses that scattered the crowd.

    Students, professors, and parents are trapped in the debris, unable to tell where they are or where they are going.

    However, unsurprisingly, there was no agitation on the part of the criminals, as if this was all part of the n.

    "Whoohoohoo... bomb squad. Aesthetic."

    "s, I''d like to be impaled by one of the Queen''s heels and explode."

    "Me too! I want to be a sow and explode!"

    "Kehehe- Kehehehe-"

    The bloodshot-eyed criminals emerged from the dirt and rubble.

    And in front of them were first-year students who were still inexperienced inbat.

    "Kkyaaaaah!"

    The criminals rushed toward the direction of a female student''s scream.

    And then there were those who stood in their way.

    Pug!

    The head of one of the criminals snapped back.

    Tudor. The young hero, who was the first to hear his ssmate''s screams, stood at attention and blocked the criminals.

    Behind him were Sancho, Bianca, and Piggy.

    "Hehehehehe- Academy students, let''s see how soft you are!"

    One of the criminals, who looked like he had tasted human flesh, lunged at them with his mouth agape.

    Pow!

    Tudor and Sancho raised their spears and axes, and smashed at him.

    But they failed to control their strength, and the criminal''s head and stomach exploded, killing him instantly.

    "E, ugh. Did Imit murder...."

    Tudor''s pupils shake. No wonder he missed the criminal lunging at him from behind.

    But Bianca wasn''t going to stand still.

    Pfft!

    The arrow she fired pierced the criminal who was trying to attack Tudor, killing him.

    He crumpled to the ground in a failed attempt to hug Tudor and create a mana surge.

    "Kill him or you die! Come to your senses!"

    "...ah!"

    Tudor gritted his teeth in momentary embarrassment, realizing that Bianca had saved him.

    Next. Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca find themselves in a circle of criminals.

    "There are too many of them...."

    "Every single one of them is from the wanted list. They''re strong."

    "Ugh- what do I do, what do I do?"

    "Don''t show your back! Stay close!"

    There''s venom on their faces.

    Just then.

    "Ooh, we don''t want to fight either!"

    One criminal stepped forward.

    He had tears streaming down his innocent face.

    "We''re all being used by that crazy bitch Sady, and there are innocent civilians in the middle of this!"

    "...What, is that real?"

    Bianca asked in disbelief, and he pulled up his shirt to show her the magic stone bomb nted on the body.

    "That monstrous bitch kidnapped not only criminals but normal people and nted these bombs, threatening to kill our families if we didn''t listen to her!"

    "...."

    "Even this guy who was dragged here said he was a priest, what''s his name, Humber, or something... but he''s an innocent priest!"

    Then I see a middle-aged man standing naked among the criminals.

    He''s got his hands and tongue cut out, and he''s crying, and of course he''s got a magic stone bomb nted in his stomach.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca all look at each other, their faces nk.

    "I don''t know what to do. There are a lot of innocent civilians involved."

    "But sympathizing with them will get you killed."

    "By the way, guys, don''t you think you recognize that priest with the severed hand... over there?"

    "Does it matter now, It looks like we''re all going to die."

    The kids argued back and forth.

    The criminal who was the first to shed tears took advantage of that opportunity and smiled.

    "...I see the Academy''s kids are simple-minded."

    As soon as they finish speaking, criminals rush towards them, causing a surge of mana from their entire bodies.

    They didn''t miss the gap the students had left.

    " Argh!?"

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca express their frustration.

    Flutter-!

    A red cloak fluttered long.

    And then.

    Puff-puff-puff-puck!

    ck metal skewers protruded from all over the ruins, piercing the bodies of the charging criminals.

    "...eh?"

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca looked up, dumbfounded.

    Then they saw a ck stocking leg wiggling out from under the crumbling rock.

    "..., I came to tour the school I''ll be attending and this is what I see."

    A low, husky voice, full of annoyance, but sounding quite charming.

    An unrecognizable first-year female studentnded on the ground, wrapped in a cloak, the symbol of Colosseo Academy.

    Upon seeing her, a criminal once again burst into tears and eximed.

    "Wu, we''re innocent civilians, forced to do this because of that Sady bitch''s threats...!"

    "Innocent civilians carrying ghosts around behind them like that?"

    "...?"

    The mysterious female student who suddenly appeared pointed to the backs of the innocent criminals.

    A cold sneer escapes her lips.

    "Rapists, arsonists, murderers, kidnappers, pedophiles..., they''re all over the ce."

    There''s a look of horror in the criminals'' eyes as they''re quickly identified.

    But before they could react, the girl made the first move.

    Qua-gigi-gi-geek!

    A series of sharp ck metal skewers shot up from the ground, piercing the criminals from the groin to the crown of their heads and sending them flying upwards.

    As theyy there, mes roared out of the ground, creating an inferno all around them.

    "Aaahhhhhhhhhhh!"

    "Kkieeeeaaaaaak!"

    "Kuaghhhhhhhh!"

    In an instant, the criminals were dead.

    Soon, something like ck smoke emanates from their bodies and is sucked into the girl''s grasp.

    The female student closed her eyes, pursed her mouth slightly, and then her expression slightly wrinkled.

    "They''re not very nutritious, I guess because they''re low ss."

    And then.

    Tsutsutsutsutsuts...

    Above the girl''s head, white gases converged to form a strange shape.

    It was a thin, dead tree, and unpleasant-looking fruits were beginning to grow in clusters at the ends of its branches.

    [hueheehee...]

    [Kkiyaik-kkiyaaaak!]

    [It hurts- It hurts- It hurts-]

    [Help me... get me out of here...]

    The berries were carved with the faces and expressions of the criminals they had just killed.

    These ominous fruits were dripping with juices that were like tears of blood, and they were howling.

    "Mmmm. The flesh, the juice, and the taste are all so-so. It''s not that good either."

    The female student stretched out her long white fingers, grabbed the fruits that were growing at the end of the branches, and crushed them.

    ...Squish, stter!

    Hearing the horrific screams of the criminals, the female student smirked and turned around.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca stared at the girl''s face with nk expressions.

    Their minds shed back to something the professor had said at the end of ss the other day.

    ''Do you all know, we''re about to have a new friend in our school! She''s a girl. Her age is 19, which is one year younger than the average first-year student. Her institution is the Hot ss Department. She''s transferring from the famous Mage Family Morg, so I think you guys can learn a lot from her. Her name is....''

    At the same time, the transfer student greeted them with a bright smile.

    "Nice to meet you. I''m Morg Mu Camus."

 Chapter 300: The Age of the Warmonger (4)

    <h4>Chapter 300: The Age of the Warmonger (4)</h4>

    The number of criminals who broke through the magic barrier and crossed the outer wall of the academy continued to increase.

    "Hoshoshos- I''ve always wanted toe inside this academy one day."

    A figure giggled as he made his way through the ruined great hall.

    The so-called ''Fashionista'', a rare psycho whose hobby was peeling the skins of those he killed to make coats.

    "Mmmm~ the smell of higher education. Is this the aura of the Sacred Ivory Tower?"

    After being chased by the guards and saved by Sady just before being arrested, he became her most ardent fanatic.

    "The skin and hair of the youngdies who grew up in a greenhouse are the best fabric. I guess I''ll have to pick up a coat this winter. Hohohoho �C if I take it and offer it to the queen, she will be happy about me, right?"

    The Fashionista looked around and found a mother and daughter sitting under the ruins.

    A female student with a slender body, and her parents who look even slenderer than her.

    "Wow- getting some coat material, those two will barely cover the upper half, no, our queen needs to be very generous with the bust~ hmm, maybe a little short?"

    He leaped to his feet and strode toward the mother and daughter.

    "Now, don''t be so frightened. I''m not taking your lives, I''m just skinning you."

    The mother and daughter just screamed and shed tears at the whispers of the evil spirit pointing at them withrge scissors.

    Then.

    ...poof!

    One sharp tooth sank into the fashionista''s neck.

    "Huh?"

    He didn''t even realize what had just happened to him.

    Even before that.

    Pop!

    The tooth that sank into his throat gave one short flick from side to side, then snapped, breaking the bone.

    Thud.

    The body of the bitten criminal was tossed aside like garbage.

    Hounds. The Night Hound, the one that bites criminals to death, was now standing in front of the mother and daughter.

    "... Run over there, toward the smoke, there must be a way out."

    Vikir spoke in a blunt tone to the mother and daughter.

    But when the mother and daughter saw the masked Vikir, they looked even more frightened than before.

    "Night, Night Hound...."

    A viin far more notorious than the Fashionista she had met earlier.

    Knowing that, Vikir merely sighed softly beneath his mask.

    "If you don''t run over there right now, I will kill you right now."

    "Hi!"

    At Vikir''s inevitable threat, the mother and daughter jumped to their feet and ran for the exit.

    "...."

    Seeing that the mother and daughter were out of sight, Vikir shed three more criminals who were chasing after them.

    ...Swagh, thwack, thwack!

    The hound''s teeth pierce through the tough skin, ripping open the entrails.

    A crimson aura trails through the air, and before long, another criminal''s life is gone.

    As he swung the sword again and again, Vikir realized that the number of criminals was not asrge as he had thought.

    ''But everyone is flocking to a fatal location. Someone must have informed them of the n and internal geography beforehand.''

    Just then.

    "Hohohoho-"

    Vikir turned to the sound ofughtering from beyond the dirt.

    Miss Uroboros. Professor Sady.

    She strode toward Vikir, who was wearing the mask of Night Hound.

    "I see you are here, Night Hound-"

    Sady''s voice held a politeness that had been absent from her voice until now.

    When Vikir nodded, she opened her mouth with a bright smile.

    "I''m a fan."

    "...."

    It''s absolutely absurd to hear something like this from the greatest psycho in the world.

    But regardless of what Vikir thinks, Sady continues.

    "You''re interested in the ''old days,'' aren''t you, Night Hound? The logic of the Warring States Period, when power was everything! You miss it, don''t you? I know, I can smell the scent of someone like me, someone who lives in the old days. Hohoho-"

    The words itself were true.

    Vikir, too, was a ghost of the past, a ghost who had not forgotten the Age of Destruction and was living again in this life to prevent it.

    But the meaning contained ispletely different.

    "I live in the future."

    At this point, Vikir''s experience hasn''t happened yet, so he''s a man of the future.

    But when Sady heard Vikir''s answer, she seemed to think of something else.

    "Futurist! That''s great! Since the Warring States Period I''m seeking wille again in the future, does that make me a futurist? Hohoho- After all, you are someone I have a lot to learn from."

    A nce of respect and admiration. Vikir gave up on having a normal conversation with her.

    Except.

    "...!"

    Vikir noticed what Sady was holding.

    The Sword of Winter Orwell. The personal weapon of Winston, the principal of Colosseo Academy. Legend says it broke a thousand swords and never left a scratch.

    Its long, pointed, conical de and protruding handle make it look like a short jousting spear.

    Sady smiled a little wider when she realized that Vikir was staring at it.

    "I see you recognize it."

    "...."

    "Showing interest in this means that... As expected, Night Hound is also ''that side''? Ah~"

    Vikir ignored Sady''s unnecessary flirtation.

    He only said what he had to say.

    "Hand it over."

    The Sword of Winter, Orwell. It was a very important weapon to Vikir, and he was willing to kill Sady to get his hands on it.

    But.

    "Yes, I''ll give it to you, but on one condition."

    Sady said shyly to Vikir.

    When Vikir shook his head, she suddenly unzipped the zipper on her back, exposing her breasts, which were tightly suppressed by her tights.

    "If you''ll sign here."

    "...."

    Vikir paused for a moment.

    No good coulde from turning Sady into an enemy in this situation.

    Eventually, Vikir took the pen Sady handed him and signed her chest.

    Night Hound

    The sharp tip of the pen sliced through the flesh, causing droplets of blood to ooze out with the ink, it looked like a tool used for tattooing.

    Sady eximed in ecstasy at the sight of Night Hound signature.

    "Haa~ Night Hound''s autograph. I must be number one, right?"

    "...."

    "I hope so, but it''s okay if I''m not, I''ll just kill all the people who got autographs before me. Hoho-"

    "...."

    To my surprise, Sady obediently handed over Orwell after getting the autograph.

    "I really need the ''front door key'' too, but... I guess there''s another way..."

    "...."

    "Can you promise me this instead?"

    Sady handed over Orwell and whispered something in Vikir''s ear.

    " ...If you ever get a chance, please take it out together."

    " ... I see. If I get a chance."

    "Be cool."

    Vikir finished his task and stepped away from Sady.

    After cing the Sword of Winter into Andromalius''s barrier, Vikir turned to leave.

    Then.

    "...!"

    Vikir froze in ce for a moment.

    It was a faint scent that wafted past his nose. It was the smell of the demon.

    ''Where is it? Where is iting from?''

    It was a faint scent, so faint that if you weren''t paying attention, you wouldn''t notice it.

    But Vikir''s trained nose soon found the source of the scent.

    The scent wasing from the eye patch covering Sady''s left eye.

    ''Didn''t Sady be one-eyed during the midterm exam?''

    Surely the area behind the patch in her left eye would be empty.

    But somehow, this demonic scent wafted from there.

    ''This is like the scent I smelled when I killed Belial. I need to find out more.''

    Vikir turns his head to look her way once more, and Sady smiles and tilts her head.

    "What else do you have left to do? Oh, you really want to give me something better than an autograph?"

    "...."

    "Then spit it out for me �C here. Ah~"

    Sady cupped her hands under her chin and opened her mouth.

    Vikir frowns and is about to say something.

    ...Kung!

    A heavy seismic wave came from somewhere.

    It was a shock so powerful that it elerated the copse of the Auditorium, which had almost stopped.

    An earthquake that caused even the mighty Vikir lost his bnce and stumbled.

    At the same time, Vikir smelled the demon''s scent so strong that it seemed to astound his nose.

    It was a stench so strong that it could not even bepared to the oneing from Sady''s left eye.

    "...!"

    "...!"

    Vikir and Sady turned their heads in the same direction.

    Then they saw a figure rising from the rubble.

    Principal Winston.

    A massive figure rises from behind him as he looks toward them with a blurry gaze.

    A bust that looks as if it was created by countless ovepping shadows.

    It had four legs covered in tough muscles, a cascading ck mane, two darkly glowing eyeballs, and a huge single horn with a broken tip.

    Unicorn.

    But instead of the holy and sacred aura that myths often spoke of, it exuded an overwhelming sense of ominousness and terror.

    Vikir knew it when he saw it.

    ''...The 5th Corpse!''

    The fifth of the ten.

    The demon of demons, the one that could not be defeated in a one-on-one fight, had appeared in the midst of this chaos.

 Chapter 301: The Age of the Warmongers (5)

    <h4>Chapter 301: The Age of the Warmongers (5)</h4>

    Unlike the unicorn in mythology, it is a huge monster armed with evil and fear.

    Burning yellow sulfur light emanates from the two wide-open eyes.

    Therge single horn on its forehead was broken at the tip.

    Normally, a horse wears the reins and a human holds the handle, but in the case of this strange creature, it was the other way around.

    It looks like the horse itself is holding the handle of the reins, and the human underneath is filling them.

    <Amdusias, the ''5th Corpse''>

    Danger Rating : S

    Size: ?

    Found in: Deep within the Gates of Destruction, ''Serpent''s Womb''

    -Nicknamed ''5th Corpse''.

    One of the Ten gues, natural enemies of mankind, iprehensible and unkible.

    "I will take away the lives of the first born that year."

    �C ��Ten Commandments�� 10:High �C

    Amdusias, the fifth of the ten demons!

    At the sight of this muscr demon, Vikir''s mind shed back to his pre-regression memories.

    ''The nightmare that attacked the Academy just before the Age of Destruction began.''

    The central clock tower, the symbol of the Colosseo Academy, copsed due to the sudden descent of the Demon King, and many young heroes who would have be the cornerstone of the empire died.

    When the sword of the cold weapon bes dull and the heat of the Hot weapon cools down.

    Only then did the empire have its first warning of its demise.

    ''...The deaths of the young students had a tremendous impact on the future of the Human Alliance.''

    The catastrophe had enraged even those who had left the school for various reasons, such as Piggy and Sancho, and brought them back to the Human Alliance.

    Vikir looked at Winston in front of him and Amdusias behind him.

    ''It is time to kill.''

    The reason he had kept Winston alive so far was that he still had a lot of work to do at the Academy before he could kill him.

    It was also because he possessed a type of ''dangerous superpower''.

    Then.

    Amdusias turned his head and began to look this way.

    [...The scent of a demon hunter. you are Night Hound].

    Vikir pressed his mask deeper and deeper into ce.

    His opponent was a Demon King who could be counted on three fingers in terms of single force among the ten Demon King.

    There was no point in stalling for time.

    ... sh!

    The solid aura that symbolized the Swordmaster spread out in the form of a crescent moon, cutting through space.

    ng- ng- ng!

    Vikir''s blow caught the tip of Amdusias''s horn and deflected upward, splitting the ceiling in two.

    [Indeed. Myrades deserve it].

    Amdusias muttered in a low voice.

    Belial and Dantalian were good at cunning deception and legionnaire tactics, Seere was good at creating and leadingrge numbers of subordinates using ck magic, Decarabia was only focused on defense, and they were sozy that they even died too early and lost their strength. Andromalius couldn''t build it properly... However, unlike them, Amdusias is a warlike fighter.

    As a single entity, he is more powerful than any demon that has ever fought.

    Thud!

    Amdusias kicked.

    His hind hooves struck with such speed that Vikir was sent flying backwards, crashing into the rubble.

    ''Strength, speed. Nothing iscking.''

    Vikir barely swallowed the blood that rushed to his lips.

    ''... But strength and speed aren''t his only dangers.''

    Vikir knows he''s still hiding one more ability.

    The same ability that had killed so many in the Academy before he regressed!

    That''s why Vikir had to be extremely careful.

    Then. Amdusias turned and pointed his horns at Vikir.

    At this rate, it would pierce through everything.

    But.

    Whiriric-

    A giant serpent intrudes from the side and wraps around the tip of Amdusias'' horn, tightening it.

    It pulls him hard to the side, changing the trajectory of his charge.

    ...Boom!

    Amdusias mmed his head into the ground a few feet away from Vikir.

    A tremendous seismic wave shook the entire shattered auditorium.

    Then, through the scattering debris and dust, Amdusias''s amber eyes shone.

    He turned to Winston and asked.

    [...Are you Sady?]

    Sure enough, there was Sady standing there, tugging at the whip wrapped around the end of Amdusias''s horn.

    Amdusias''s figure blurred for a moment, and then the light returned to Winston''s dimmed eyes.

    Winston lifted his shaking pupils and looked at Sady.

    [Sady. How could you do this to me. I raised you with love. How could you do this to me...]

    Winston had done everything in his power to keep Sady from being fired from her position as a professor.

    And in fact, it was Winston who had consistently supported her so that she could receive an excellent education since she was a baby.

    He''s been supporting her to get the right education, to live the right life, to walk the right path.

    ... but.

    "You''re full of shit."

    Sady''s reply was cold.

    "There is no way the granddaughter of a war criminal will grow up on the right path. Do you really think the system of guilt by association has been abolished? Isn''t that what people looked at?"

    Contempt, disdain, and fearful gaze that have continued since childhood.

    Until one day, when she stumbled upon her grandfather''s autobiography, hidden deep within the citadel of the fallen family, Sady realized.

    She realized that Principal Winston, her only support, was in fact the man who had brought down her grandfather, the Marquis de Sade, during the ''47 Riots''.

    The look in Sady''s eyes changed after that.

    Although she suffered from abusivenguage, discrimination, unfair treatment, and secret violence, she patiently endured all of this, and the madness inherited from her grandfather began to shine in her eyes.

    A warmonger. A world of the powerful.

    Sady gritted her teeth at Winston.

    "All the while I was reading my grandfather''s autobiography. I found myself immersed in it more deeply than at any other moment in my life!"

    [....]

    "Why did wee to a world where those with power look down on those without power? I also learned how to ovee that absurdity and contradiction!"

    Sady smirked at Winston.

    "And it convinces me that, despite your pretense of humanity and peace, there was actually a demon lurking within you. Now I will avenge my grandfather."

    With that, Sady began to emit a terrifying force from her entire body.

    Qua-qua-qua-qua!

    The whip began to wriggle like a snake with thorny scales.

    The sticky aura, like coagted blood, rides on the thorns as a result of the whip andys waste to all directions.

    But Winston just stood there with a silent expression.

    [...is this human after all].

    And then, Amdusias''s blurred body regained its full form.

    [It is indeed worth denying three times.]

    Amdusias muttered something unintelligible and raised his huge body to face the aura storm created by Sady.

    The result was....

    Kujijik!

    It was andslide victory for Amdusias.

    No matter how strong Sady was and how much experience she had in battle, she was still a Graduator Supetive.

    As long as she hadn''t crossed the barrier of Master, it would be difficult for her to stand against a Demon King.

    Bruak!

    Sady was dumped like garbage in a pile of rubble.

    Amdusias aimed his huge horn at her as she spewed blood and pieces of intestines from the corner of her mouth.

    [In the end, it''s pointless, weak mortal-]

    But Sady was not discouraged at all.

    "Cough! Is that so?"

    [Bluffing doesn''t work].

    "I''m not bluffing, I''m buying time, hohoho-"

    Amdusias shook his head at Sady''s words.

    ...Phew!

    Winston''s back snapped once.

    A crimson sword pierced through his heart.

    Vikir was already holding Winston''s back.

    "''It''s over,'' ''It''s time to die,'' ''This is your grave,'' ''There''s no hope left for you,'' ... I''ve heard this many times before."

    [....]

    "But guess what? I am here now."

    In the blink of an eye, Vikirid countless stabs into Winston''s body.

    Amdusias hurriedly picked up Winston''s body and stepped back, but Vikir followed as if waiting.

    ...just then.

    Suddenly, Winston''s eyes turned red.

    Thwack, thud, thud!

    Winston, who was just a host, reached out and grabbed Vikir''s arm.

    "Who''s the demon?"

    For a moment, Vikir felt the stench of Winston''s scent disappear.

    And that momentary hesitation was not lost on Winston.

    ...Bang!

    He pushed Vikir away and jumped backwards.

    He looked at Sady, writhing on the rubble in the distance, and asked.

    "Demons and humans. Which is more evil?"

    Humans reject demons.

    Because they are evil.

    However, sometimes humans act beyond the ''demon'', the evil idea they created.

    "The opposite of justice is not evil, it''s just another definition...."

    Winston seemed to be pointing out just that.

    ...but.

    "I''m not interested in your shitty philosophy, so don''t try to lecture me."

    Vikir is a veteran who has spent countless hours on the battlefield.

    He''s not a kid who gets swayed by the enemy''s logic.

    "Demons Kill."

    First rule of a demon hunter. A belief that will not change under any circumstances.

    And that''s what Vikir does.

    ...Pow!

    The stab once again strikes Winston, and beyond that, Amdusias.

    [I thought he was young, but he''s quite the experienced hunter].

    Amdusias began to gain momentum in earnest.

    A huge Dark Unicorn and Night Hound were about to sh horns and teeth.

    Just then.

    "Woah!... Where is it?"

    A loose voice is heard, somewhat at odds with the tense atmosphere of the battlefield.

    Both Amdusias and Vikir paused for a moment.

    When Vikir saw her face, he felt sorry in his heart.

    The sight of her face made Vikir feel sick.

    ''Nabokov I? Why are you here...!?''

    The Pope.

    A being who should never have appeared on this battlefield.

    A face that would have been poisoned long ago before the regression.

    A variable that even Vikir was not expecting.

    She popped up out of nowhere on thest battlefield.

 Chapter 302: The Age of the Warmonger (6)

    <h4>Chapter 302: The Age of the Warmonger (6)</h4>

    As the prophet Lun faced the persecution and walked to the ce of execution, his disciples cried and clung to him.

    Then the Prophet Lun said, ''I will lift up my sword against the shepherd, and the flock will be scattered.'' As it is written, ''All of you will forsake me.''

    At this time a young apostle, who wouldter be the Pope, stepped forward and said, ''Although everyone will forsake the Prophet, I will never forsake him.''

    The Prophet Lun said, ''Listen to me, for this morning, before the first rooster crows, you will deny me three times.''

    Then Prophet Lun was miserably executed, and the cackling thugs approached and asked the young apostle: ''Are you also the one who walked around with that sinner?''

    The young apostle denied it, saying, ''I do not know what you are talking about.''

    Then one of the women passing by said, ''This is the person who usually begs the sinner to instruction and volunteers to be their messenger!''

    The young apostle replied, ''I do not know him.'' The young apostle denied it on oath.

    A short timeter, arge group of executioners arrived and shouted at the young apostle. ''I can tell by the way you speak. You are in league with sinners!''.

    Then the young apostle swore that he would be punished if he lied, and said, ''I don''t know.''

    Just then, the first rooster crowed.

    -��The Gospel of Lun�� 26:69-75

    * * *

    "Oh no."

    Vikir clicked his tongue.

    He grabbed Pope Nabokov I by the hand and quickly pulled her back.

    Nabokov covered her mouth with her hand and blushed.

    "Oh, old man~ I''m a nun~ I can''t go back and forth!"

    "...."

    Vikir sighed lightly.

    Perhaps when she was sober, but right now, with her judgment clouded by the dementia, so he couldn''t expect help from the Pope.

    Because she wasn''t destined to get caught up in this situation in the first ce.

    ''I''ll have to get her to a safe ce somehow.''

    Then.

    Winston''s expression changed strangely when he saw Pope Nabokov I''s face.

    Surprisingly, he seemed to retain some semnce of sanity in the face of his demonization.

    "The Pope, she might know. Demon or human, which is more evil."

    "...."

    When Vikir remained silent, Winston spoke again.

    "The Faithful Quovadis, descendants of those who denied the Gods three times. They also honor a prophet who was lost at the hands of the very humans they sought to protect."

    The prophet Lun, long ago, persecuted and lost.

    Winston smiled.

    "There was a time when I, too, valued humanity above all else, and I was deeply sympathetic to the doctrines of the Quovadis."

    At the same time, the unicorn Amdusias fluttered his dark mane and tugged on the reins around Winston''s neck.

    As the demon erodes the human mind, the fragments of memories that are chipped away create countless sparks.

    Vikir had witnessed some of those shards with his own eyes.

    ...In the fragments of memory. The little boy was crying.

    His parents had made a good living selling beans.

    But when a famine hit and they couldn''t bear to see their neighbors starving, unpacked all the beans in the warehouse, made arge tofu, and held a charity sharing event.

    By the precept that it is God''s teaching.

    The crowd swarmed like flies, and they didn''t even bother to follow the one bean per person rule.

    Cutting in line, lying, stealing, threats, violence... What''s more, theyter took the tofu away with a club.

    When they finally ran out of tofu, a huge crowd ofte arrivals stood up and shouted, "Why don''t you give it to me?", "You''re a terrible person for not giving it to me!", and "There''s nothing to eat at the rumored feast!".

    However, those who received the tofu did not give it to them instead.

    ''When did I receive tofu?'', ''Ah, the person who gave me tofu?'' The only response was, ''There was a person like that, I was so grateful.'' It was fortunate that there were noints such as ''Is this all there is?'', ''It''s disappointing that there are less beans'', ''It tastes bad even for free'', etc.

    And my parents were crushed to death by a fence that couldn''t withstand the weight of the sudden influx of people.

    ''What is God?''

    ...At that time, the boy thought deeply about ''God''s teachings'' for the first time.

    And he heard a voice within him saying.

    [Deny God. Deny humanity. Deny yourself.]

    The voice urged him to deny three times, and it sounded like the crowing of an early morning rooster.

    So the boy grew up and became a young man.

    Distrusting humans, the young man built a wall between himself and the world.

    The first person to break that wall was a beautiful maiden he met at school.

    By being with her, the young man felt that the wounds frozen deep in his heart were being healed.

    His sense of humanity and faith were revived.

    His parents'' belief that people are basically good and his beloved''s belief that people are basically good were consistent.

    The young man naturally came to think so as well.

    Under these circumstances, when he reached middle age, he met with a great ident.

    He was seriously wounded in the process of suppressing rebels. To heal the after-effects, he went on a long retreat.

    To the estate where his parents had died.

    While crossing the sea on a boat with her, who is now hispanion, a strong storm arose and the boat was in danger of capsizing.

    The boat was heavy, so they dumped everything in it overboard, but it kept sinking.

    So the sailors tried to throw some of the living people overboard.

    They looked at him and her.

    When he was torn between what to do, she was the first to speak up.

    ''Throw this person, not me! He is sick and cannot resist!''

    And he was thrown overboard by the sailors. His health had deteriorated over the past few decades to the point where he could barely hold himself up, so he was unable to resist.

    As he sank beneath the ck water, he thought to himself.

    ''What is it to be human?''

    What makes a human being give up being a human being, or is a human being a human being in the first ce? How much of a gap is there between what defines a human being and what a human being actually is?

    And when he reached the bottom of the ocean. He could hear the voice from his childhood once more.

    [Deny God. Deny humanity. Deny yourself.]

    It came with the second denial.

    He didn''t hear the first rooster crow, but it wouldn''t have been strange if he had.

    When he next opened his eyes, he was lying in the sand. His injuries had healed nicely.

    Thinking back, he realized that as a boy, he too had been crushed by the fence with his parents, and how he was still alive was a mystery to him.

    He returned to the academy where he had spent half his life.

    Many things had changed: his body, his mind, and his surroundings.

    He calmly adjusted to reality. His faith in God, his love for humanity, all remained in doubt, but he had to live.

    ...and. Finally, he saw a hole in his heart.

    The delinquent he had sponsored and protected since childhood.

    The descendant of a first-degree war criminal who was born crooked.

    He believed he could rehabilitate this child.

    It was done in ordance with the teachings of God, in ordance with his parents'' belief that humans are good, and in ordance with his own pride in seeing this child grow up.

    And now, as time passed and his heart was pierced by the hand of a grown child, he thought, ''What am I?''

    Antern shed before his eyes. Memories from the past flow by quickly as if riding on the back of a unicorn.

    ''What have I been doing all these years? Was it all for nothing? Who am I and where am I going?''

    He also felt a deep sense of doubt about himself.

    [Deny God, deny humanity, deny yourself].

    The moment he heard it for the third time, he closed his eyes.

    The dichotomy between demon and human no longer mattered to him.

    .

    .

    [Humans me the ugliest parts of themselves on demons, what a mindless race they are].

    Amdusias pulled on the reins and moved Winston''s body.

    Winston, too, lifted his demon-like contorted face, as if no longer bound by the concept of being human.

    But Vikir remained impassive.

    "I''m not interested in the good and evil distinctions between demons and humans."

    [....]

    "Whether human nature is bad or good, I am human. And most of the things I want to protect are in that side, that''s all."

    There is no good or evil in war.

    It''s just a maelstrom of interests, big and small.

    An old soldier who had spent decades on the battlefield knew that all too well.

    The corners of Amdusias''s mouth curled up in a sneer.

    [He is like that too. He''s been arguing for nothing. Now die].

    Another huge hoof flew toward Vikir.

    Vikir had just drawn his Decarabia.

    ...Boom!

    A white barrier blocked Amdusias'' hooves.

    A single ray of altruism shining brightly in a maelstrom of conflicting interests.

    A white barrier that functioned purely for the sake of others.

    "Van-nim!"

    There was only one person who could call Night Hound by that name.

    Dolores. She appeared with a brave expression and blocked Amdusias'' attack.

    Quack, quack, quack!

    Thendscape around them twisted violently once more.

    A shout came from behind Vikir.

    "What''s all that noise, old man, I''m losing my hearing!"

    "Huh! Pope, why are you in such a ce...?"

    Dolores gasped as she saw Nabokov behind Vikir and raised her holy shield even higher.

    But.

    [No use].

    Amdusias raised his horns and still managed to pierce Dolores''s Holy Shield.

    A power far beyond that of Dantalian or Belial. It was a power that far exceeded Dolores'' divine power.

    ''...Ugh! ''This time too.''

    Dolores gritted her teeth as she was pushed back.

    No matter how much she renewed her mind and trained, it was still the same in the face of such a powerful demon.

    There are limits to human time, and the extent to which one can be strong is also clear.

    The thorny pilgrimage of Night Hound will continue to bring powerful enemies, and at this point, Dolores is lucky if she don''t grab him by the ankles rather than offer him a shield.

    Dolores was frustrated with herself for feeling so helpless at every critical moment.

    Just then.

    A flutter.

    A ck robe of blood obscured her vision.

    "...!"

    Night Hound stepped in front of Dolores, covering her eyes.

    "...Don''t."

    For a moment, her heart was beating so loudly that she couldn''t hear his voice.

    "What?"

    When Dolores asked back with a trembling voice, Night Hound spoke again in a low voice.

    "Don''t look."

    A sharp voice, as if on high alert.

    Dolores had a hunch.

    There was something in front of her that she shouldn''t see.

 Chapter 303: The Age of Warmonger (7)

    <h4>Chapter 303: The Age of Warmonger (7)</h4>

    ''What is it?''

    Even with her eyes closed, Dolores felt an unexined anxiety.

    And soon, that anxiety bes tangible through the ears.

    "Uub, uubh, ueubhh!"

    A familiar groan. How could she forget that horrible voice?

    Dolores''s eyes widened in surprise.

    Before her was a familiar face, but a man with a strange look.

    ''Humbert humbert L Quovadis''.

    He was struggling towards Dolores with a gag in his mouth.

    He has no hands to free himself from his bonds.

    He was no better than any of the other criminals enved by Sady, already wrapped in bombs of magic stones.

    Those pitiful eyes.

    "Aa...."

    Dolores froze in ce at the sight of Humbert.

    The man she had feared ever since she had be his foster daughter, so long ago, simply because she was born with divine powers.

    A man she loathed and feared, even to the point of facing him in the sack of horrors Dantalian had pulled out.

    ...However!

    Grrttt-

    Dolores gritted her teeth hard.

    She could not remain afraid forever.

    When she had gone to the temple of an Old Testament that sold indulgences to investigate Belial, she had shivered helplessly and barely escaped with the help of Night Hound.

    It was the same before Dantalian.

    ''I won''t be his burden anymore!''

    Dolores looked up at her foster father for the first time.

    She''d learned thest time she''d been in the orphanage with Night Hound that the presence in front of her was no longer frightening.

    It was time to be brave, to protect the person next to her.

    To give back a little of what she had always received.

    And in that moment, Dolores realized her heart.

    A being that gave her the courage and will to face what she was so afraid of.

    And she realized how she felt about it.

    "Eis!"

    She gritted her teeth and punched Humbert in the face as he approached.

    Pugh-

    Humbert''s eyes rolled back in his head.

    The trauma and nightmares that had been holding Dolores back were shattered so easily that it seemed like nothing.

    At the same time, a white light different from before began to explode from Dolores'' body, which was surrounding Vikir.

    "What!"

    Dolores'' eyes widened.

    She is still far away from Night Hound standing behind her.

    She still doesn''t know anything about him.

    But what could it be? Right now, Dolores''s mind was filled with an enormous amount of divine power that she had never known before.

    "Have you awakened?"

    "Well, I guess so, though it''s a little hard for me to say this myself...."

    Dolores answered Vikir''s question in a confused voice.

    She didn''t know what the harmony was, even to herself.

    Then.

    "Holholhol �C yes, that is natural."

    Suddenly, a strange sound came from behind her.

    Dolores turned to see Pope Nabokov I looking her way with a subtle smirk on her face.

    "What is love? Just because you forcefully close the distance doesn''t mean you''re kicking someone. It naturally permeates and fills up the distant space in between. It''s like filling a broken bowl by submerging it in water."

    Vikir scratched his head, but Dolores seemed to realize something.

    ''Yes. There''s something the Pope said about that.''

    A snippet of conversation from the old well.

    ''Old man. Anything natural is best.''

    ''...Natural? What is that?''

    ''The answer is to leave the cracked or holed bowl as it is. A hole or a leaky bowl can be filled by wrapping it in something bigger and embracing it. Holholholhol-''

    Love. An affectionate feeling that flows naturally toward an object.

    It transcends ss, status, age, race, gender, and all other gaps and distances.

    That''s what phnthropy is.

    The stage where all this happens naturally, like the flow of water, is called ''naturalness'', which is an essential process of mind cultivation, not only for religious people but also for martial people.

    "And that love is something that you naturally realize without anyone telling you. Holholhol �C it''s only natural that they are both young men and women."

    As Nabokov''s voice echoed in her mind, Dolores prepared her divine shields.

    There was no time to congratte herself on the sess of her soul resonance.

    ...Quack, quack, quack!

    The horn of a unicorn falling like a lightning strike.

    Amdusias''s attack began to continue fiercely.

    "Eugh!"

    Dolores winced as she felt the pain in her wrist.

    The power contained in Amdusias'' horns and hooves was so great that even Dolores, the Saint of Steel, could not easily block it.

    [It would be best to step back. That guy''s attack power is the highest among the Ten Corpses.]

    Having absorbed nearly half of Vikir''s mana, Decarabia steps forward, and the battlefield scales are finally equalized.

    Whoosh!

    Dolores retrieved her shield and focused all her buffs on Vikir.

    ''...It''s definitely on a different level than before.''

    Vikir marveled at his increased mana and physical strength.

    The Swordmaster Intermediate, at the end of his seventh form, had risen a level in an instant.

    It wasn''t his own strength, but it felt like he''d broken through one of the walls above.

    ''I can fully realize the Eighth Form now.''

    He recalled CaneCorso''s voice from the Grave of Swords.

    [Even after stepping into the realm of the supreme, only those who continue to run without resting with the same mindset as when they first picked up the sword will gain something.]

    Baskerville''s Eight Forms. A stage that must be supported by a desperate desire to survive, a thirst for life, and extreme practical experience.

    A narrow gate that only opens when a person who has lost and regained their emotions has found an attachment to life at the threshold of death.

    After bing a Swordmaster, one rarely has to fight for their life, and this is where stagnation urs.

    Therefore, CaneCorso''s words were the most theoretical and closest to the correct answer.

    In fact, it could be said that the 8th Form is a stage that is difficult to experience unless guided by a senior at the upper level of the supreme realm.

    Or it takes a lot of hard work.

    And Vikir is currently being pushed to the crossroads of life and death after a fierce fight.

    Also, although she is not a senior, she has an equally strong supporter who is desperately sending buffs.

    ''It''s said that the 9th Form is an area that cannot be reached in one''s lifetime, so the strength I can muster now is actually myst resort.''

    The highest of the supreme realms, the 8th Form.

    Vikir, who had risen to the pinnacle of Baskerville under Dolores'' blessing, did not miss the moment.

    ...sh!

    Eight massive teeth that engage, erupt, stab, cut, dismember, slice, dice, and crush.

    A solid aura emanated from the magic sword Beelzebub, creating eight storms that tore through everything in their path.

    [Kuh-Aaaah!]

    Amdusias the first to scream in agony.

    Its broken single horn makes a loud noise as it collides with Vikir''s sh.

    Whistle. In a tense tug-of-war where no one side has the upper hand.

    Tsk-tsk!

    The one who started shaking first was Amdusias.

    Crack!

    The cracks in the tip of the horn began to widen with a loud crackling noise.

    Cracks that started from numerous arrowhead marks on the surface of the horn eventually split the horn into three pieces.

    BANG!

    Thrown back with a loud bang, Amdusias revealed a puzzled expression for the first time since his descent.

    [No way. How could a mere mortal...!?]

    the mighty Amdusias lost his grip on the reins.

    At the same time, Winston''s bloodshot eyes widened as he grabbed at his oily hair.

    Meanwhile.

    Kwa-kwang- Ujijijijik!

    Vikir sliced Amdusias''s horns lengthwise, and they fell to the ground in that state.

    "...cough."

    Vikir opened his mouth, and several bars of hot blood immediately poured out.

    A strike that sucked every ounce of power out of him.

    And Vikir witnessed it in the process.

    "...The 9th Form. Was it really there?''

    The 8th Form, a level above the 7th Form, which is generally considered to be superhuman.

    In that split second of reaching such a high level, Vikir did not waste time looking down and falling into self-absorption.

    When you reach such a high point, you might have looked down at least once, but Vikir chose to raise his head and look up without wasting any time.

    ...And there it was.

    The gate of the 9th Forms, looming high above.

    "...!

    So high and far away that he didn''t think he''d ever dare to reach it.

    Still, just knowing that it exists, and in which direction it is, is an incredible feeling.

    [You will never reach it in your lifetime, for the realm of the 9th Forms lies beyond the threshold of death].

    ording to CaneCorso, the end of the living is up to the 8th Form.

    From the 9th Form onward, ordinary human understanding, empathy, conviction, faith,mon sense, probability, and causality are all denied.

    The realm of the Absolute currently rules the Grave of Swords.

    The state of enlightenment demonstrated by a great man who threw his life away for the sake of a sword.

    A ce where those who have not experienced death cannot enter.

    ... But.

    ''I can reach it.''

    Vikir was about to carve out a path a little different from the one CaneCorso had taken.

    ''If it''s death, I can experience it without dying. Surely, it''s a hidden ability of that damned demon in front of me!''

    Staggering to his feet, Vikir looked at Winston and Amdusias as they straightened up before him.

    ''...The problem is time.''

    Vikir rolled his eyes and looked beyond the crumbling ruins.

    A spot in the sky visible between the ruins showed that the sun was just setting.

    Vikir needs a little more time, as he is currently waiting for some sort of ''event''.

    ''We need to bring in a heroic figure from beyond the ruins... or even just one of the parents from Don Quixote or Usher Family would buy us enough time.''

    However, unfortunately, the copsed objectpletely covered therge space, making it difficult to call for help.

    Even Sady, who could bite the criminals, was knocked unconscious by Amdusias, so in many ways they were very unlucky.

    And that''s a good thing for Amdusias, who has just reorganized his stance.

    [For a human, I''m honestly surprised, young demon hunter].

    Amdusias stared down at Vikir, his eyes wide.

    Winston gave Vikir a pitying nce.

    "But you, too, will eventually suffer the same fate as me. You will deny God, humans, and yourself three times."

    Demon. And the shadow of the person who abandoned humanity casts a long shadow.

    Vikir and Dolores, who had exhausted all their strength from the sh just now, had no choice but to make a final decision.

    ... Just then.

    "Holholhol- But you''re saying you''re going to deny three times over and over again?"

    There was no hint of tension in the voice.

    A small shadow stepped in front of Vikir and Dolores.

    An old woman of small stature.

    An old saint who looked as if she might copse at the slightest touch, she blocked the massive bust of Amdusias without the slightest hesitation.

    Pope Nabokov I.

    Before Dolores, who had a shocked expression, could even step forward, she opened her mouth with a calm expression and afortable voice.

    "Are you talking about your mother?"

 Chapter 304: The Age of Warmongers (8)

    <h4>Chapter 304: The Age of Warmongers (8)</h4>

    "You mean your mother?"

    The moment. The atmosphere in the room suddenly turned sour.

    Nabokov smiled gently at the somewhat dazed Amdusias.

    "Holholholhol �C even demons are creatures of God after all. To dishonor a god is to dishonor your mother."

    [Get lost, you demented woman].

    Amdusias snorted, as if he were not worth the trouble.

    Then he stretched out a huge hoof and mmed it down on Nabokov.

    "No, Pope!"

    Dolores leapt forward, but it was toote.

    ...bang! Ujikkeun!

    Toote to stop Amdusias''s front hoof from snapping off with a terrifying bang.

    "...?"

    [...?]

    The result was so unexpected that it froze both Vikir and Amdusias in ce.

    Amazingly, Nabokov, standing there with a gentle smile on her face, broke Amdusias'' front leg into an L-shape just by lightly extending her hand.

    Originally, it was a direction that could not be broken.

    "...holholhol. That''s right. You are right, we Quovadis are descended from ''those who denied the gods three times''."

    The first patriarch of the Quovadis family and the first pope. The First Apostle.

    He apparently betrayed the prophet Rune and denied God three times before the first rooster crowed.

    "... but there''s a story behind it."

    Nabokov said, her voice crisp and clear like never before.

    The moment he betrayed the prophet for the third time, the first rooster crowed and the apostle burst into tears.

    He returned to his home in the backwoods, where he worked as a stonemason with his eyes, ears, and mouth closed until Lun the Prophet was resurrected.

    He carved a tower out of the bedrock at the base of the mountain.

    Time passed, and one day he was called by the resurrected Lun.

    ''Do you love me?''

    ''I love you.''

    ''Do you love me?''

    ''I love you.''

    ''Do you love me?''

    ''I love you.''

    When the question was repeated three times, the apostle shed tears of repentance and bowed his head.

    Then, with a satisfied smile, the Prophet Lun turned and began to walk down the mountain.

    The apostle followed him, barefoot and panting, and asked.

    ''Lord, Quo Vadis, Domine where are you going??''

    The Prophet Lun replied, ''Back to the ce where I died to be persecuted again,'' and the apostle was deeply ashamed of his pettiness for caring about his life.

    "This is where our family namees from, our surname."

    Pope Nabokov Lun Quovadis I. The first saint to hold the position of Pope. ...To be exact, a monk among saints.

    She slipped her hands into the pockets of her flounced skirt.

    And soon enough, Nabokov''s hand slipped out of her skirt again, holding a mace so terrifying that it gave you goosebumps just by looking at it.

    Buuuung-

    Nabokov swung the mace, the weight of which was unknown, as lightly as if he were handling a knitting needle.

    Bam!

    Amdusias''s front foot bent in a strange direction again.

    [Kuhugh!? You, you crazy old woman!?]

    Amdusias jerked backwards and pulled the reins forward at the same time.

    Then Winston, with bloodshot eyes, grabbed a sword that was rolling around and charged.

    "Die, old man!"

    The solid aura of the Swordmaster''s characteristic shouted out.

    But.

    "Oh my gosh, it''s so hard to carry something like this, how can I survive? I''m just thirsty for no reason-"

    Nabokov easily dodged Winston''s sh by simply pulling her chin back a few centimeters.

    At the same time, her normally gentle eyes shed with the sharpness of a sword.

    "Being a nun is not a profession that makes a living solely through divine power, young man."

    At the same time, Nabokov caught Winston''s sword with the back of her hand, flicked it diagonally away, and stuck her fist into the gap.

    Pugh-Ujig!

    The sound of the vicle being forced to open a locked door.

    Winston''s eyes bulged as if they were going to explode.

    Boom!

    An iron ball flying at a tremendous speed smashed into Winston''s skull.

    "Eih, eih, old man dies."

    "Kuhugh!?"

    While Nabokov was making a death sound, Winston was also making a dying sound.

    "Kuhugh! Gurgle... gurgle!"

    Blood and pieces of intestines are sticking out of the lips.

    Amdusias hastily transformed his ck mane into mes, but they dried up in an instant upon contact with the brilliant white light emanating from Nabokov.

    Even the mighty 5th Corpse Amdusias was unable to show his courage in front of Nabokov.

    And watching all of this, Vikir looked slightly dazed.

    ''I can''t believe it, is this who she is?''

    When Vikir first saw Pope Nabokov, he thought she was just a demented old woman with a short time left to live.

    ... But what about this?

    The pressure felt by the small old woman in front of him is reminiscent of CaneCorso on the throne in the Grave of Swords.

    [Ughh...How, how could this happen?]

    Amdusias hadn''t realized Nabokov''s power was so great.

    Around that time.

    "Hahahaha �C here it is! The ce where the most powerful aura is felt! The blood of the Great Knight boils!"

    "...Don''t let your guard down. I''ve already sent word to the imperial court for reinforcements, and I''m sure they''ll be here soon. Until then, we''ll hold them off."

    Cervantes of the Don Quixote family and Roderick of the Usher family arrived.

    House Leviathan and House Baskerville, as well as numerous other parents, emerged from the ruins into the center of this ce.

    Professors and elite students had since been arriving one after another.

    Among them was a transfer student from Morg with an excited expression on her face.

    "Vi...Eup!"

    Camus, who was about to call out Vikir''s name, closed her mouth and waved her hand.

    Almost simultaneously, Camus''s brow furrowed as she recognized Dolores''s face next to Vikir''s.

    "...what? wind? Are you going to conduct an on-site inspection?"

    Vikir didn''t bother to answer.

    ''Now it''s the final chapter.''

    Camus''s inexplicable low-pressure was bothering him a bit, but the stage was set.

    And now all that remained was Winston''s choice.

    "...."

    Vikir stepped to the back of the crowd, quietly waiting for the time.

    Then.

    "Night Hound, You too are under urgent arrest for treason!"

    A hand mped down on Vikir''s back from behind.

    Morg Banshee, a determined look on his face as he grabs Vikir''s wrist behind his back and snaps it.

    Behind him, Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca stood at their teacher''s side, each holding a weapon with a determined look on their faces.

    "Ni, Night Hound, you are under arrest! Receive the aura of the great Tudor!"

    "Eh, ehem! ehem! We have to help the professor, don''t let your guard down!"

    "Uh...My legs are shaking!"

    "I should take this opportunity to arrest this vicious criminal as well, won''t I be a total celebrity!"

    In front of them is a huge demon and the worst viin in the Imperial Capital, Night Hound.

    In the eyes of the public, they were both enemies of humanity, so it couldn''t be helped.

    Just then.

    "...hmm?"

    Professor Banshee noticed something strange.

    It could only be seen by those who were close to Night Hound''s back, holding his wrist.

    A bracelet.

    A bracelet that was only distributed to students of the Colosseo Academy.

    ''It is the key to passing the new magic wall. It''s a bracelet type. I make them by hand whenever I have time. I''ve already made enough for the students, I just need to distribute them. I''ll make some for the professors when I can afford it.''

    The bracelets, made of gray, sprouting and rooted grass seeds, are specially crafted artifacts for the Academy''s students to use when entering and exiting the magic wall at the main entrance, and have been carefully crafted by Principal Winston.

    ...Why is it on Night Hound''s wrist now?

    "Are you kidding me?"

    Professor Banshee looks up with a furious expression.

    [...You will not get what you want, nothing].

    ck energy began to surge ferociously from Amdusias''s entire body.

    At the same time, Vikir had a hunch.

    ''It''s here.''

    Atst, the demon made its final move.

    Each of the Ten Corpse that he have faced so far had their own unique abilities.

    The 10th, Andromalius could turn water into blood.

    The 9th, Dantalian, spreads disease and boils to spread.

    The 8th, Seere, turns livestock and humans into corpses.

    The 7th, Decarabia, sucks mana like a hungry grasshopper.

    The 6th, Belial, sucks up wealth like a bloodsucker.

    And now, Amdusias, the 5th Corpse, was also about to show a strange miracle.

    <Amdusias, the ''5th Corpse''

    Danger Rating : S+

    Size: ?

    Found in: The Serpent''s Womb, deep within the Gates of Destruction.

    -Nicknamed ''5th Corpse''.

    One of the Ten gues, natural enemies of mankind, iprehensible and unkible.

    "I will take away the lives of the first born that year."

    �C The Ten Commandments 10:High �C

    Hunting children.

    Against the countless parents gathered here, Amdusias performed the worst deed.

    ...Kurrrrr!

    A strange sound could be heard from all around.

    It was the sound of seeds germinating. It was the sound of nts growing at a rapid pace, sending out roots and stems.

    ... The problem was, they wereing from the wrists of students at Colosseo Academy.

    "W-what!?"

    Professor Banshee took a step back in horror.

    The bracelets on the wrists of all the students at Colosseo Academy, including Vikir, began to vibrate violently, and all at once they began to emit a st of ck light.

    The small seeds attached to the bracelet soon take root and sprout stems at an amazing speed.

    "What!"

    Parents panicked and tried to cut off the nts that had taken root on their children''s wrists, but it was impossible.

    It was too strong and too fast.

    Then.

    The mysterious ck nt devoured the students of the Colosseo Academy.

    They began to stretch out their stems and roots and intertwine with each other.

    It was like watching a giant intertwined branch.

    Sa-sasasasasasa...

    The trees that were densely nted throughout the Academy dried up and died at an rming rate.

    It was as if they were trying to squeeze all their nutrients into this one ck tree rooted in the center of the ruined Auditorium.

    "...Oh, my God."

    Professor Banshee stared at the giant tree growing rapidly.

    Shhhhhhhhhhh.

    The entire student body of Colosseo Academy was sucked into the trunk of that giant tree.

    "No! My son!"

    "Kaaaaaa! Give me my daughter!"

    "Oh no! Give me my students back, please!"

    But no matter how hard the parents and professors tried.

    Quack, quack, quack.

    The explosion was loud, but the tree didn''t budge.

    "Son, this father ising!"

    "Aaaaaaah! My daughter! Give me my daughter!"

    Even as Don Quixote''s patriarch, Cervantes, and Usher''s patriarch, Roderick, frantically threw blows with all their might, the tree remained unmoved.

    Principal Winston''s worst creation.

    ''Naraksu (Hell Tree)''.

    It was the moment when a cursed giant tree that shouldn''t exist in this world swallowed up the entire Colosseo Academy.

 Chapter 305: Hell Tree (1)

    <h4>Chapter 305: Hell Tree (1)</h4>

    The giant tree that swallowed up the Colosseo Academy.

    It was of such enormous size and height that it was impossible to imagine its diameter.

    It could be seen from cities far away from the Imperial Capital.

    The roots hanging around the academy grew like teeth along the outer wall of the academy, giving the appearance of a gigantic monster lying down with its mouth open 180 degrees.

    And at the center of the roots was a gaping hole that seemed to lead directly to Abyss.

    The Abyss. The Hell. A grotesque pit at the center of its teeth, like a throat.

    "What the hell is this! What have you done to my son!"

    "My daughter! Give me my daughter back!"

    The roots didn''t budge, even when the most powerful men in the world, Cervantes the Spear King and Roderick the Archon, attacked with all their might.

    They were even more helpless against the deep hole in the center.

    A hole of unknown depth and unknown identity. And a giant nt filling it.

    No one knew the identity of the giant nt that had swallowed the entire student body of Colosseo Academy.

    ...None. Except for one.

    "It''s a Hell Tree, isn''t it?"

    Morg Camus asked. She stared at the dull roots before her.

    "Lady Morg. Do you know anything about it?"

    Osiris asked from beside her.

    He looked unusually urgent.

    "Four of my brothers have been taken from before my eyes. If you know anything, please help me."

    Osiris was followed by Cervantes and Roderick.

    "My son! My son has been taken, too! Uh-oh! This can''t be happening!"

    "My daughter! I must save my daughter! What the hell is that!"

    Camus waved her hand in annoyance.

    "I don''t mean for you to get all worked up. No, but now that I think about it, why didn''t it catch me? Is it because I''m not registered yet? Oh, I should have gotten the bracelet when the admissions office gave it to me."

    Whether anyone else cared or not, Camus had her own pace.

    at that time.

    "If you know anything, I would appreciate your cooperation..."

    There was an awkward semi-response.

    Where Camus turned her head, she saw a very familiar face.

    Morg Banshee. Vice Principal of Colosseo Academy. Current acting Principal.

    Seeing his cold face, Camus immediately straightened up.

    Morg Banshee, Morg Snake''s younger brother.

    His appearance, voice, and ent were in many ways reminiscent of his dead master.

    " ....Yes. Well, I don''t know that much either."

    Professor Banshee sighed in relief when Camus, who was known to be stubborn and self-willed, obedientlyplied with his request.

    Though he had no idea why she had suddenly be so cooperative.

    Well, whatever. Camus''s words were quite surprising.

    "This nt is a magic tree that first appeared in history books under the name of the ''Hell Tree''. It has been recorded under a variety of names depending on the time and ce, including ''Inverted Chaos'', ''Burrowing Tower'', ''Passage to the Oil Realm'', and ''Reverse Babel''."

    "How do you know this, since these are not found in the histories I have studied?"

    "In the mage histories written from the perspective of the Empire, yes."

    Banshee questioned, and Camus dismissed it lightly.

    Then she remembered the face of her childhood friend and her first love, who had brought her a strange tree with one root and a collection of old books of unknown origin.

    "This is the legendary tree of a tribe of shamans who have long rooted themselves in the Red and ck Mountains. ording to the records, it has the characteristic of spreading its roots above ground and sprouting underground, growing upside down."

    Everyone''s mouths were half open at that.

    Ordinary trees grow upward, with roots below the ground and trunks extending above the ground.

    However, this tree seems to grow downward with its roots above the ground and its trunk below the ground.

    ...Deep enough to touch the ''Hell'', as the name suggests!

    Camus continued his exnation.

    "This tree is only about the size of a city on the outside, but on the inside it is different. It is said that it is close to impossible to urately measure the area of ??the space inside the tree because it has the property of ovepping and distorting multiple spaces. It''s literally a magic tree."

    While it might pale inparison to a Wraith Tree, it''s still a threat when it grows to this size.

    They didn''t dare to imagine what the children were going through when they were dragged into the Hell of the tree.

    Then Cervantes the Spear King said.

    "Enough of that, what do we have to do to break through this damn tree and get them out?"

    "If that was the case, I would have done it, sir."

    "What?"

    Camus clicked her tongue.

    "This tree is impossible to intervene in from the outside, the only way to get through it is from the inside."

    "Where can you find something like that!"

    "Where is it? It''s here. It''s not just a nt, it''s a tree that only grows in Hell. Besides, I heard it''s a fairly rare species even in Hell."

    In other words, it''s impossible to do anything outside.

    ...bang!

    Professor Banshee gritted his teeth and punched the root of the Hell Tree next to him.

    "Damn it, it''s my fault, if I had been just a little more cautious... just one more suspicion... I wouldn''t have gotten my disciples into this mess...."

    Winston''s bracelet, magic stone maintenance, greening project, parent observation sses, and unconditional tolerance toward Professor Sady... There was nothing that wasn''t suspicious.

    The fact that he knew and did nothing to stop it makes Professor Banshee feel even more responsible.

    Thus, the parents and professors were deeply despairing and wailing in front of Hell Tree.

    But.

    "What are you guys so worried about?"

    The only person who is calm.

    Only Camus was looking at the crying people as if she couldn''t understand them.

    "He probably didn''t get caught, but went in on his own. Isn''t that because he have his own thoughts?"

    At her words, everyone''s eyes widened in wonder.

    People who had stopped crying flocked to Camus like they were grasping at straws.

    "What do you mean, he''s got a thought? He''s going in himself? Who the hell is he?"

    Then Camus replies, so nonchntly as if it was natural.

    "Who is it? my fiance."

    * * *

    Vikir opened his eyes in a ck room.

    A ck room. That was the only way to describe it.

    This empty space seemed to be used to store something, and now it was fulfilling its role of imprisoning Vikir.

    It was like being inside a giant seed chamber.

    ''...It''s just like I heard.''

    Vikir had never experienced this space firsthand, but he knew it indirectly from the memoirs and journals of former Academy heroes who had gone through it.

    The Tower of Babel stretched underground.

    It is the result of the extreme development of Amdusias''s power to ''steal the firstborn''.

    ''Normally, he''s only supposed to take the first born, but... in this case, he''s just taken all the ''children''.''

    Vikir thought to himself in the small space.

    This is an underground tower built by Amdusias.

    The lower you descend, the more vicious the ecosystems, traps, and bizarre prehistoric creatures.

    An interweaving of worldviews. That''s what this creepy tower is all about.

    Vikir closed his eyes and imagined the internal structure of the Hell Tree in the memoirs of great heroes.

    ''The ghosts of ancient civilizations captured and enved long ago, the undead in ruins where they lost their minds, the beasts that roam the void, the tribes armed with golems and magic weapons...A ce where the worldviews of deserts, seas, volcanoes, and snow fields coexist on each floor.''

    Common sense and the rule ofw do not apply here, where so many multidimensions areyered, distorted, and refracted, such as in the Magic Tower or the Grave of Swords.

    ''It would be difficult to crush all of the Academy''s brightest young sprouts, so they must have tried to trap them in here.''

    Indeed, when the Hell Tree appeared at Colosseo Academy before Vikir''s regression, many young heroes nearly met a miserable end.

    If they died or retired within this tower, they would immediately be nourishment for the demon.

    However, if even one of them is able to leave the tower alive, all those who have died or retired will be resurrected.

    Before his regression, Amdusias also built this tower and was confident that no one would leave this ce alive... but the demons'' ns were ruined when an unusually genius individual escaped the tower in his previous life.

    In fact, Vikir knew the future and could have prevented the tower itself from ever appearing....

    ''There''s a reason I didn''t do that.''

    Vikir was thinking to himself.

    -Ting!

    There was a strange sound in the darkness.

    A sound that seemed to echo not through his ears, but directly into his head.

    Then, something suddenly appeared in front of him.

    It was a piece of meat with twisted features, oozing flesh and internal organs, and pping ugly, dried wings.

    [Hell o, am I the ''fairy'' wh o is in cha rge of the to wer?]

    Vikir nodded at the bizarrely shaped lump of flesh that called itself a fairy.

    ''...Because of this.''

    The creature spoke with a bizarre pronunciation and tone, apanied by an unpleasant pping of its wings.

    [Fr om no w on, fir st co me, fir st ser ved ?]

 Chapter 306: Hell Tree (2)

    <h4>Chapter 306: Hell Tree (2)</h4>

    The fairy said in a bizarre tone.

    [Fr om no w on, fir st co me, fir st ser ved ?]

    And mechanical voices rang in his ears one after another.

    -Tingling!

    [Tower rules apply]

    [Vikir, ''Warrior of Level 1'' has been made part of the ''Leveling System'']

    [Your status window powers will be unlocked]

    Vikir nodded.

    ''That''s why I didn''t stop the Hell Tree from appearing.''

    With that, Vikir opened his status window.

    Within this tower, his physical body is quantified and visualized in numbers called ''stats''.

    <Vikir>.

    -LV: 1 (%)

    -Title: (none)

    -Stats

    Strength: 178

    ?Agility: 203

    ?Stamina: 207

    ??: (Locked)

    ??: (Locked)

    ??: (Locked)

    The levels ofbat power were disyed at a nce, as if they were characters in a TRPG board game poprized in the Imperial Capital.

    Vikir''s attention was drawn to the sectionbeled ''Level''.

    ''It''s said that you can''t properly demonstrate the power of reality inside the tower, and the amount of power you can demonstrate is about 1%... per level, but as you level up and get closer to 100, you''ll be able to use the power of reality.

    Importantly, when you return to the real world, the extra power you''ve gained here is added as a bonus perk.

    In other words. If you level 10 here, you''ll be able to use about 10% of your real-world strength, and if you escape the tower and return to the real world, you''ll be about 10% stronger in the real world than you were before you entered the tower.

    Simrly, if you level up to 100 here and return to the real world, you''ll get a 100% power-up.

    This means that thebat power is doubled.

    ''It means you can forcefully break through the stagnation in the real world.''

    Vikir remembered the Gate of the 8th Form, which he had forced through with Dolores'' buff not long ago.

    If he could get out of here safely, he might be able to reach the 8th level without Dolores'' buffs.

    ''First, I have to leave this room and go downstairs. There was also a saying that it was firste-first-served.''

    Vikir discovered that there was a long, winding hole in the ck floor leading down.

    It looks like a bizarre looking slide.

    He climbed down it and found himself in a slightly more spacious room.

    Unlike the room upstairs, it wasn''t empty.

    [kiiig- kiyaaaag!]

    Several angry monsters were pacing around the room at high speed.

    Vikir recognized them immediately.

    <Norvegicus, Gutter Rat>.

    Danger Rating: F

    Size: 50 centimeters

    Found in: All continents

    -A rat that has been transformed into a hideous creature by magic.

    Full-grown adults have the intelligence and size of a small dog, making them an object of disgust for women and girls.

    They are surprisingly edible when gutted and roasted over a fire or boiled in water.

    Tutorial Monster.

    The average student at the academy would be overwhelmed by the sudden change of location and 100x weakened body, and would be unable to deal with this creature''s attacks.

    ... But not Vikir.

    Vikir was a Swordmaster before he was sucked into the tower in the first ce, so even if he was weakened by a hundredfold, there''s no way he''d be defeated by a rat.

    Crack! Woof!

    Vikir reached out and snapped the necks of every single one of the rats.

    Only then did he realize that the ceiling above him was slowly descending.

    Gigigigigigeek...

    The ceiling ising down very slowly.

    But if he stayed here, he would one day be crushed to death by that ceiling.

    ''Either way, I can''t stay in this room forever.''

    It''s not just this floor, it''s every floor of the tower.

    There''s some sort of device that keeps you from staying in your room because you''re afraid.

    You can''t feel safe at any moment, you can''t feelfortable in any ce.

    It''s a world where you have to run for your life. If you stand still, you''ll be wiped out in an instant.

    This tower was such a cruel world.

    ...snap!

    Vikir has just snapped the neck of thest rat.

    -Ding!

    The notification sounded again in his ears.

    [Vikir, a ''Level 1 Warrior'', has sessfully hunted the ''F Rank Monster Gutter Rat Norvegicus'' for the first time in the Tutorial Zone!]

    [''Rare'' achievement rewarded!]

    The grotesque flesh fairy from earlier reappeared before Vikir''s eyes.

    It dropped its wrinkles in an unpleasant beat and opened an embarrassing hole that could hardly be called a mouth.

    [Oh? Is th is the fir st ti me I''ve ev er se en su ch a fa st pas ser, I''m so go od, th ere mu st be a rew ard for a go od stud ent, rig ht?]

    Having finished speaking, the creature gaped open the hole from which its voice came, and began spitting out a vomit that looked harmful at first nce.

    ...Gweapug! Gweapug! Gweapug! Gweeeelg-!

    Most of the disgusting vomit that flowed from the fairy''s mouth was blood and bits of guts.

    But there were also the odd glittering orbs mixed in.

    Vikir stooped down and picked them up with a careful look.

    Most people would have been offended and hesitated to touch them, but Vikir didn''t hesitate at all.

    Chiiiiksss-

    His fingertips burned as he touched the vomit.

    The vomit is extremely acidic, and the moment it touches his flesh, he feels a fierce pain.

    But Vikir persevered, sifting through the vomit and picking out the beads.

    ''Thank goodness. I got them before they melted.''

    These turned out to be candy. If he had been deterred by the ghastly appearance of the fairy, the disgusting smell of the vomit, or even the acidic air that burned his fingers, these candies would have simply melted.

    Even.

    "Hey. Give me the ones stuck between your teeth, that''s my reward too."

    Vikir grabbed the disappearing fairy and opened her mouth, pulling all the candy out, including the ones stuck between her pointy fangs.

    [...A re y ou fru gal ? ]

    The fairy stuck out its stubby tongue as it watched Vikir retrieve everyst bit of candy that was stuck in its teeth.

    Then, as abruptly as it had appeared, the fairy vanished, and Vikir examined the contents of his hand.

    Beaded candies. They were colored red, green, and blue.

    -<Strange Candy> / Strength / Red

    A candy that increases your Strength stat by 1.

    Tastes salty.

    �C Strength +1

    -<Strange Candy> / Agility / Green

    Candy that increases Agility stat by 1.

    Tastes bitter.

    �C Agility +1

    -<Strange Candy> / Stamina / Blue

    A candy that increases Stamina by 1.

    Tastes astringent.

    �C Stamina +1

    ''...Is this stat candy? It looks exactly as I heard.''

    A candy that can be obtained as a reward for clearing the floors of a tower.

    Eating them will increase your body''s stats.

    The more you collect, the better, as it''s a simple way to increase your stats, and it''s separate from yourbat power gains from leveling.

    Naturally, the stats gained from these candies also apply outside of the tower, so in some cases you can get a truly massive boost inbat power.

    Moreover, this candy also functions as currency in theter stages, so the more candies the better.

    ''Perhaps this tower is not a trial, but an opportunity.''

    Amdusias built this tower to test the humans, but that''s a result of hisck of understanding of the human race.

    Some humans actually feed off of trials and tribtions to be stronger.

    Humans are the only creatures that can turn a crisis into an opportunity.

    Perhaps this is thend of opportunity where those who are unlucky enough to be born with talent, those who don''t have an early advantage in the race after birth, can turn their lives around.

    Right now, Vikir doesn''t have a lot of natural talent. He''s only gotten this far through hard work and practical experience.

    ''At least I was able to handle the difficult time because I received the blessings of the River Styx.''

    However, Vikir have never thought, ''It would be nice if I had been born with talent in the first ce.''

    If Vikir had something more innate, wouldn''t he be at an even higher level than he is now?

    ''Let''s find out here.

    Vikir put the obtained candies into Andromalius''s barrier.

    With his usable mana reduced to a hundredth of its value, he could only use it to store things.

    Not having to lug around heavy equipment is a great privilege.

    ''...There are currently three types of stat candy avable.''

    Strength, Agility, and Stamina. The most basic core abilities within this tower.

    But there were more types of stats.

    Vikir checked the status window once more.

    <Vikir>.

    -LV: 1 (%)

    -Title: ''Gutter Rat Hunter'' (NEW)

    -Stats

    ?Strength: 178

    ?Agility: 203

    ?Stamina: 207

    ??: (Locked)

    ??: (Locked)

    ??: (Locked)

    A new title has been created.

    -Title: ''Gutter Rat Hunter''

    ? Deal small additional damage to creatures in rat form.

    Taunt, Confuse, Blind, Bleed, Burn, Poison, and other status conditionsst a bit longer.

    Perhaps a small ability to deal extra damage when killing a rat-shaped monster will be granted as a perk.

    But what was important were the letters ''Locked'' that appeared in the stats section.

    Stats other than strength, agility, and stamina.

    ''These are the ''three major stats'' that cannot be obtained in the tutorial zone. Candy that can unlock and raise those stats is needed first.''

    It was most likely a reward forpleting more difficult tasks.

    Vikir thought back to before the regression.

    ''...Most of the heroes who were active during the Age of Destruction were from this Hell Tree.''

    Among the students who were trapped in the Hell Tree and forced to y a game of survival, there were some who became exceptionally strong.

    Theyter rose to the ranks of great heroes through the levels and stats they gained here.

    Familiar names like Tudor, Bianca, Sancho, Dolores, and Camus were among them.

    And of course, the triplets, Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro.

    And in this life, Vikir was aiming for more than half that.

    ''Camus''s failure to enter Hell Tree is a factor, but she''s already strong enough that she doesn''t need it.''

    After absorbing the power of the Demon King Seere and acquiring Morg''s sacred item, the ''Wraith Tree'', her potential is alreadyparable to her pre-regression prime.

    Perhaps as time goes on, she will grow stronger and stronger, surpassing her pre-regression level.

    She''s strong enough that she doesn''t need to be in the Hell Tree, so she won''t have toment it for long.

    ''However, before the regression, Camus destroyed the Hell Tree and saved everyone. In this life, I''ll have to do the same.''

    Since it was Camus who had destroyed Amdusias''s ns before regression, Vikir was a fitting recement.

    Through her memoir and the reviews of many others, the strategy is already well-known.

    Now all that''s left is to keep pushing forward.

 Chapter 307: Hell Tree (3)

    <h4>Chapter 307: Hell Tree (3)</h4>

    As soon as I finished dealing with all the misceneous monsters that appeared afterward, a new space appeared.

    -Ding!

    [You''ve left the ''Tutorial Zone'' on the 1st basement floor]

    [Rewards will be distributed]

    [The ''Main Game'' has begun]

    [Entering the ''Familiar Ground'' on the second floor]

    Vikir picks up a tattered piece of parchment that falls in front of him.

    -<Return Scroll> / Scroll / Rank: ?

    A scroll that allows you to return to the Tutorial Lands for one time only.

    The answer to the question ''Lord, where are you going?'' is written.

    ��Level will be reset when used

    Vikir clutches the scroll, given to him as a reward for clearing the tutorial.

    Presumably, this is an item given to all participants that can only be used once, in a moment of crisis.

    Next, Vikir descended to the second level of the basement.

    The scene was all too familiar.

    The Colosseo Academy. This was the interior of the academy he had been living in for the past year.

    Lecture halls, training centers, and dormitory buildings rise above the streets below, lined withmercial shops.

    The brick-built gardens, street trees lining the streets, zas and fountains under the central clock tower are still the same.

    The problem was that the academy''s facilities were already in ruins. ...

    Vikir looked around in silence.

    The ssrooms, hallways, cafeteria, and other facilities of the academy were as they had been before they were trapped in the tower.

    However, there were some parts that were subtly distorted.

    For example, the praying angel carved into the fountain had been reced with a torn to pieces angel, and the pictures symbolizing Lun are all drawn upside down.

    What''s more, there''s burning and destruction all around.

    It seemed as though time had passed so long that there was a lot of dust.

    The perfume shop, which was always bustling with female students, was covered in dust with broken doors and windows, and the sign of a famous restaurant was rusting away.

    The stench of rotting meat wafted from inside.

    The garbage dump, where the kindly security guard always waved hello, was littered with unidentifiable bloodstains.

    Everything is in ruins.

    [Amdusias devours parts of the world to feed his Hell Tree. The swallowed world bes part of the worldview within the tower. Perhaps it has swallowed part of the Colosseo Academy].

    Decarabia around his neck spoke for the first time.

    Madam Baby also groans as if she is anxious.

    Vikir sat down in front of the torn angel statue and waited in silence.

    He can''t go any further, though, as a translucent wall blocks his way.

    The world devoured by Amdusias seemed to extend only as far as the Academy''smercial district.

    Then.

    "...!"

    Vikir felt something.

    Different students began to walk out from the dormitories, ssrooms, and shops in the ruins ahead.

    "Holy shit. What kind of world is this?"

    "Are we trapped in a dungeon or something?"

    "Damn it. I thought that was a fairy earlier."

    "Damn it! Give me back my power, you demon bastards!"

    The students of Colosseo Academy slowly made their way through the tutorial and into the main game.

    Soon, 108 students were gathered around the central fountain with the torn angel statue.

    Some look confused, others calm, as if they''ve already settled in.

    Vikir sat still and scanned their faces.

    He didn''t recognize any of the familiar faces- Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, Sinir, Dolores.

    Most of them were seniors, with the asional assistant professor mixed in.

    "Most of them are level 1, stats 1-3.

    Not surprisingly, the students are level 1.

    And stats like strength, agility, and stamina seem to vary from 1 to 3.

    Every once in a while, I''d see someone with a stat over 5, but they were few and far between.

    ''Compared to my stats, I think the reduction rate is a bit unbnced.''

    However, stats don''t always give aplete picture of a person''sbat power, and there are still Locked stats, so it''s hard to make a judgment based on the status window alone.

    Meanwhile.

    While Vikir was lost in thought, the students began to explore the ruins of the academy.

    Seniors became leaders, sophomores took on middle management, and freshmen took on menial tasks.

    The most prominent among them were the aristocratic and baronial students.

    "Shit. What the hell is this ruin, let''s try to find something useful."

    "Be careful, that fairy or something might show up again and give us a mission."

    "Let''s grab what we can. Food, weapons, whatever."

    "Ransack! Ransack everything! This ce is a ruin anyway! Whoever picks it up first is the owner!"

    The students began ransacking the storefronts.

    The quick-thinking ones ransacked restaurants and grocery stores for canned goods and water.

    But most of the canned goods were gassed up and the water was contaminated.

    Unable to find food no matter how hard they searched, the students became desperate and robbed other stores.

    Crang!

    The aristocratic girl who broke the ss window of one of the shops eximed excitedly.

    "Wow! Beatrice Newell''s new perfume, it''s a limited edition perfume, and I couldn''t get it because there were no celebrities in the Imperial Capital!"

    She sprayed the new perfume liberally over her body and shuddered in ecstasy.

    "I was already annoyed by the smell of sweat and blood and rats in the tutorial area, so this is great!"

    Meanwhile, the Baronial boy who broke down the store''s door grinned like he''d hit a windfall.

    "Wow, this is a tobo shop, all these fine cigarettes. These are the cigarettes I''ve never smoked because they were too expensive."

    Strangely, although the necessities were gone, the luxuries were left behind.

    "Well, maybe it''s to rx before the main game?"

    Even students who were not usually interested in perfume or cigarettes flocked to the perfume and cigarette shops as if they could indulge themselves for once.

    ... But.

    ''They''ll realize soon enough.''

    Vikir thought.

    This tower is a creation of the demon, inside the body of a nt that grows in hell.

    Everything in it is more than just unpleasant, it''s downright malicious.

    ''Only luxuries like perfume, tobo, and cosmetics are left. It must be intentional.''

    Suspicious are something to be wary of, but in this tower, they are actually helpful for survival.

    Just then.

    ...Gurgling! Gurgling! Pop!

    Something popped out of thin air with an unpleasant noise.

    It was a rotten looking piece of meat. It was a fairy, the guide of the tower.

    [1 0 8 Par tici pants, Is th is the app eara nce of yo ur cu te fai ry? ]

    It was still chattering away in a bizarre tone.

    It''s a pity that you''ve be 100 times weaker, but your growth here will remain the same outside, you can acquire talents you weren''t born with, and it''s an opportunity to turn your life around by acquiring unique artifacts.... There were only all kinds of fakeforts and sweet words.

    But there was one word at the end of all these premises that quickly shattered the students'' illusions.

    [But th at''s a sto ry ab out wh en you le ft the to wer ali ve, rig ht ? ]

    If you die or don''t make it out of the tower, you''re done. You will spend the rest of your life here.

    In the eerie silence, only the sound of dry swallowing is loud.

    At that time, a senior in the upper grades worked hard to muster courage.

    "Guys, don''t be afraid, this is an opportunity! If we can get out of the tower, we can be much stronger! Let''s level up a lot here, collect a lot of stats, and get out, because there are some rare items that can be found here!"

    This encouraged the other students.

    "Oooh, that''s right!"

    "Let''s try something!"

    "The Demon is alone, let''s go!"

    "I''m going to be a hero here and return to my family''s arms!"

    "Let the mission begin, you demonic bastard!"

    All at once, the morale of the students rose and they began to shout at the fairy.

    ... but.

    [ Ah hig hig hig? I li ke it, I li ke it, I li ke it so mu ch? Ar e yo u will ing to ta ke on th at chall enge? We ll th en, can we ge t start ed rig ht aw ay ? ]

    The fairy was strangely amused by the courageous attitude of the students.

    Because there are no lips, drool flows between exposed teeth.

    The students were instantly tired of the sight of them pping it hands so fast, even though it skin was torn and blood and pus were flowing out as it stretched out it''s short hands so long.

    Just as the students'' enthusiasm was dying down, the fairy spat out thest line, shaking with joy.

    [ The miss ion on the sec ond flo or is sim ple ? ]

    At the same time, more than a hundred gaping holes appeared behind the fairy.

    An unpleasant sound began to emanate from them.

    [grrrr...]

    The sound of a ferocious beast growling.

    Soon, creatures began to crawl out, mes spewing from their eyes and mouths.

    A hundred ''Hell Hounds'' crawled right out of the oil field.

    The fairy watched as the students'' faces contorted in despair and terror, and gave them one final task.

    [ St ay ali ve ? ]

 Chapter 308: Hell Tree (4)

    <h4>Chapter 308: Hell Tree (4)</h4>

    [Wi ll yo u sur vive ? ]

    Due to its unique oral structure, the end of the word always ends in a high tone, making it sound like an interrogative.

    But no one had enough time to worry about such small details.

    <Hell Hound>

    Danger Rating: B

    Size: 3 meters

    Found in: Red and ck Mountains, Ridge 2

    -A.K.A ''the dog that drives hell''.

    It brings terrible disaster to anyone it encounters, and once bitten, no one survives.

    The sulfurous fire that spews from its eyes and mouth is drawn from the depths of the Oilpole Hell, and will not be extinguished until the life it has used as fuel ispletely consumed.

    Hellhound. A sinister beast that breathes sulfuric fire from its eyes and mouth.

    The number of hellhounds charging toward the 108 students was exactly 108.

    [ It''s ok ay to be 100 tim es wea ker, rig ht? You gu ys are 108, th ese chil dren are al so 108, Ple ase ho ld on we ll ? ]

    The fairy was twisting her body like she was going crazy with joy.

    And then, an aristocratic female student who btedly realized the situation screamed.

    "Kyaahhhhh! What is that!""

    The game was begun.

    -Ding!

    The number "108" appeared in front of everyone''s eyes.

    All the students realized that the number was rapidly decreasing as time went on.

    ''108 people survive 108 hellhounds for 108 minutes.''

    This was the mission of the second floor of the basement.

    "Hiii! How am I going to beat this!"

    "You idiot! You don''t have to fight! You win if you survive!"

    "We can run and hide! This is an academy, even if it''s in ruins!"

    "This is where we''ve been living for the past few years! I know where we can hide!"

    ''If I could use my full power, I would form a party and fight, but it is impossible to fight against a pack of hellhounds now that I am 100 times weaker.''

    "Let''s go to the girls'' dormitory! The roof there should be enough to keep them at bay!"

    "No, we have to get into the water tank!"

    "There''s an underground bunker in the grocery store! The doors there are thick!"

    "Let''s go to the gym! There are lots of things that can be used as weapons!"

    The students rushed to the ces they knew best.

    But there was something they overlooked.

    The terrain here is subtly different from the Academy.

    Everything was in ruins.

    "What! Oh, the roof''s copsed! Eek! Hellhounds areing! Jump!"

    "What, the water tank is full of rotten water! We can get in, but we can''t hold our breath for 108 minutes!"

    "Ugh, the doors to the underground bunker are all rusted and corroded!"

    "There''s not a single workout machine in the gym! Damn it!"

    The big terrain was the same as they knew it, but the small details were different.

    The students frantically ran and hid from the swarming hellhounds.

    ...And one of them was Grenouille, a first-year vice leader student at the Hot ss.

    "Ugh! Aaaah-"

    Grenouille ran frantically, his face covered in tears, snot, and drool.

    Behind him, he could hear the shing teeth of the hellhounds.

    That means they''re close.

    ''No, you''re wrong, It''s hard to even escape with a body that''s 100 times weaker!''

    If he didn''t hide somewhere right away, he would die a horrible death that would leave his body untouchable.

    Then.

    "Hey! Aren''t you Grenouille?"

    "Hey! It''s dangerous! Get over here! Now!"

    A voice called out for Grenouille from the side.

    A girl with a slender and pretty appearance and a boy with a sturdy build and an imposing appearance.

    They were Grenouille''s direct seniors, second-year students of the aristocratic faction.

    Grenouille''s face widened when he saw their faces.

    Since they are direct seniors of the aristocratic faction that raised Grenouille with care, he would not hesitate to mention their names when asked to name his closest connections.

    "Come on, seniors!"

    "Hurry up, you''re in real danger, buddy!"

    At the male student''s warning, Grenouille quickly ducked his head.

    Above him, the sharp ws of the Hellhound sliced through the air.

    In his despair, Grenouille thought he saw a glimmer of hope.

    ''That''s right. No matter how difficult a crisis is, we can ovee it if everyone works together!''

    But the very next moment, that glimmer of hope is shattered.

    ...Tud!

    As Grenouille came running, the female student stretched out her long leg and stepped on Grenouille.

    "Huh?"

    Grenouille fell to the ground without knowing what was happening.

    Then he saw the senior girl and the boy ahead of him smirking.

    "Sorry. I''m a little slow on my feet."

    "We thought we''d get caught if we didn''t bait you."

    They darted forward as Grenouille fell to the ground, attracting the attention of the Hellhounds.

    "...This is impossible."

    Grenouille despaired.

    Both the current situation and the fact that their bond outside of the tower was actually nothing.

    So what was the point of all his time and connections at the Academy?

    ''...Have I lived wrongly?''

    Grenouille looked out at themoner students in the distance, running to help the wounded or fighting alongside them.

    When Grenouille was in school, he wouldn''t have even said hello to them because of their poor grades and insignificant backgrounds.

    But now, they were united by the strongest bonds of motivation andradeship.

    Grenouille closed his eyes with deep regret.

    He knew in his bones that the price of making the wrong friend was too high.

    And then. The hounds approached.

    He didn''t have to look to know.

    A chill.

    He could feel the monstrous hounds with their terrifying teeth and ws reaching for the nape of his neck.

    A hound that exudes such powerful force that Grenouille immediately gave up on life.

    It bit down on Grenouille''s neck with a strong, domineering force.

    ...Bam!

    At the same time.

    "What?"

    Grenouille felt his body floating in the air.

    He turned 180 degrees and saw the unthinkable in front of him.

    "Don''t stay down, get up and run."

    Vikir. He grabbed Grenouille''s back with his hand.

    * * *

    Some time had already passed.

    The surviving students were hiding in various parts of the ruins.

    The same was true for the boys and girls of the aristocratic faction who had run from Grenouille''s feet earlier.

    They mmed the doors of the grocery store shut and hid in the cers.

    "They won''t find us here."

    "Of course not, it''s so well hidden."

    The girl smirked at the boy''sment.

    They talked about what had happened earlier.

    "Shouldn''t you feel a little sorry for him?"

    "What are you sorry about? It''s better than us dying."

    "Yeah, but it''s kind of weird that he was all red when I called him."

    "He''s a first year, so he''s a bit naive. I only took him because he''s from the Leviathan family, but ah- who cares about his status outside the tower when we''re down here."

    The male and female students smirked and nodded.

    Just then.

    [grrrr...]

    From above, the Hellhounds stirred.

    A single one had separated from the pack and burst through the door of the grocery store.

    ''Eek! Since there are no visible baits, let''s search!''

    ''Don''t worry. No one knows about this basement.''

    The boys and girls crouched down, covering each other''s mouths.

    The hellhound slowly circled the store, scanning the area.

    But when it saw nothing, it turned and started to walk out of the store.

    Just then.

    [...thump!]

    The hellhound''s eyes changed.

    It immediately ran to the corner of the store and began scratching frantically at the floor.

    Bukbukbukbuk-crunch!

    His ws, heated by the sulfur fire, tore through the hardwood floor like paper.

    Inside were a group of boys and girls with grotesque expressions.

    "Ugh. How did you know!"

    "Kyaahhh! You said we wouldn''t be found out!"

    At the same time, they realized.

    The Hellhound''s nose was pping frantically.

    ''Wow, new Beatrice Newell! It''s a limited edition perfume, and I couldn''t find it because there weren''t any celebrities who were said to be the king of the imperial capital!''

    ''Wow, this is a tobonist''s shop, with a stack of fancy cigarettes. Aren''t these the cigarettes I never got around to smoking?''

    ''Well, maybe they''re just trying to get us to rx before we get into the real game?''

    And then they realize that before they hide in the basement, they''ve been sprayed with limited-edition perfume and smoked fine tobo.

    The Hellhounds used their keen sense of smell to pinpoint the location of students wearing perfume, cigarettes, and cosmetics, and they were in hot pursuit.

    Anyone who wore even a drop of hand cream was not immune from the hellhounds'' pursuit.

    Meanwhile.

    "...That''s what it''s going to be like."

    "What, what? What did you just say?"

    "Nothing."

    Vikir looked away, watching the goings-on at the grocery store in the distance.

    Behind him, Grenouille looked terrified, and in front of him was a pack of hellhounds.

    The other hellhounds, who had been chasing the runaways, had caught up to Vikir.

    Grenouille despaired at the dead-end alley behind them.

    "Ugh! That''s why I told you to go to the dormitory wing, there''s plenty of ces to hide in the area where my room was! You ignored me and came this way, and now you''ve brought all the hellhounds from everywhere!"

    The hellhounds currently surrounding Vikir and Grenouille ounted for most of the total number of summoned.

    With most of the Hellhounds concentrated here, the survival rate of the other students is quite high.

    However, it''s hard not to feel like a broken man in this harsh situation.

    ''I''m crazy! I shouldn''t have followed this guy! I shouldn''t have been so weak after all the help I got earlier...!''

    Grenouille regrets his choice.

    "Don''t worry. There''s a way out."

    Vikir said simply.

    Grenouille retorted in disbelief.

    "There''s no way, how are we going to run and hide from all these hellhounds!"

    "...hide? Why hide?"

    "Huh?"

    Grenouille gives Vikir a nk look in response.

    But Vikir ispletely unfazed and replies with a nonchnt expression.

    "I''ll get them all."

    The hellhounds here... No, all the chunks of experience.

 Chapter 309: Hell Tree (5)

    <h4>Chapter 309: Hell Tree (5)</h4>

    "I''ll get them all."

    Vikir said to the hellhounds in front of him.

    Grenouille''s response was short and to the point.

    "... Are you out of your mind?"

    Grenouille''s reaction is understandable.

    Every single one of the hellhounds in front of him has powerful bones and massive muscles.

    Their teeth and ws are sharper than the edge of any great sword, and the sulfur dripping from their eyes and mouths will burn and melt anything it touches.

    Moreover, there are so many of them that you can''t see them all at once.

    What on earth can one person do in such a situation?

    But Vikir remained nonchnt.

    ''I already knew hellhounds woulde out.''

    Vikir''s attention was drawn to the luxuries left behind in the ruined academy: perfume, cigarettes, and cosmetics.

    Such a brazen arrangement of scented items must have foreshadowed the trap toe.

    Vikir tried to think of a few creatures with an unusually sensitive sense of smell, but there weren''t many.

    One of them was a hellhound.

    ''Gnolls are very easy opponents, goblins are not difficult, and if theye out, they will probably bend sharks or hellhounds with a sensitive sense of smell.''

    All the props and terrain were designed by demon, and if you messed with them, you''d die.

    ...chwaag!

    Vikir drew his magic sword, Beelzebub, and faced the horde of hellhounds.

    Pugh-

    One hellhound, confident in the power of the pack and gaining momentum, bravely charged in and suffered a serious injury to its nose.

    The big nose and the fist-sized chunk of flesh behind it fell to the ground.

    [Kkegaeng! Kang! Kiiing-]

    A hellhound with its entire nose and bridge cut off struggles backwards, spraying hot blood and oil.

    Vikir takes advantage, slicing the lower jaw off another hellhound as it tries to bite at his side.

    And after that, another hellhound that tried to w at Bikir''s buttocks lost nearly half of its right front leg, and the one next to it was pierced through the throat and died.

    [Grrrr...]

    [Kaeaeng! Kaeng!]

    [Kkieeeeing-]

    Only then did the hellhounds notice.

    The other side wasn''t trying to kill them, but rather maim them.

    This, of course, was a nned move by Vikir.

    ''Hellhounds are rare in the early levels. Their hunting rewards are very generous.''

    Vikir heard a beeping sound in his ear.

    -Ding!

    [Vikir, a ''Level 1 Warrior'', has sessfully hunted the first ''B+ Rank Monster Hellhound'' in the Tutorial Zone!]

    [Rewards are given for ''difficult'' achievements!]

    Just killing one gave you the reward.

    Roll...

    It''s a red bead. It was a ''strange candy'' that increased your strength stat by 1.

    ''I wonder what they''ll reward me with if I kill them all.''

    Even in the memoirs of the pre-regression heroes, there was no mention of killing all of these monsters.

    That means Vikir is tackling a quest that no one else has ever attempted.

    All for the sake of the greatest reward of all!

    Swash, puck, swash, puck!

    Vikir moved at breakneck speed.

    Parts essential for movement, such as fingers, toes, joints, and internal organs, are thoroughly protected.

    Those parts that weren''t necessary forbat were boldly surrendered, and in return, he made sure to grab his opponent''s eyeballs, tongue, legs, etc.

    Behind him, Grenouille frowned at the terrifying sight of Vikir fighting as if possessed by an evil spirit.

    ''What the hell, that guy. Is he a level 1? Why is he fighting so well....''

    Grenouille knew he wasn''t a normal guy from the University League, but he didn''t expect him to be this strong.

    If he''s 100 times weaker now, how strong was he originally? How much was he hiding?

    ... But really, a debuff is a debuff. Vikir''s entire body was soon covered in blood.

    The Hellhounds, on the other hand, are stillrgely intact.

    There were maimed creatures everywhere, but they were also fighting against Vikir with the crazy vitality and fighting spirit that are typical of monsters.

    ''Indeed. I''m tired because I''m 100 times weaker. Do I have to use some shortcuts?''

    Vikir shrugged as he stepped back.

    He turned to Grenouille behind him.

    "Okay, the path is clear, run over there."

    "What? Where is the escape route...."

    Before Grenouille could finish his sentence.

    Boom.

    Vikir lunged at the hellhound that was hesitating next to him and cut off its upper and lower jaws at the same time.

    A hole opened up in the encirclement as the hellhound retreated with a whimper.

    "Let''s go."

    "Uoh!"

    Vikir grabbed Grenouille by the scruff of his neck, threw him forward, and followed him.

    "Hoaaaaaaaaaaa!"

    Grenouille screamed as he ran away, and he was such a good bait that he even attracted other hellhounds who were wandering nearby.

    ''Now that''s a talent.''

    Vikir thought to himself as he watched Grenouille''s back, strangely targeted by the monsters.

    Well, more prey is a good thing for Vikir.

    Soon enough, Vikir and Grenouille arrived at the storefront.

    "Hey, hey! Where do you think you''re running to? It''s a recycling center! There''s no cover!"

    Grenouille shouted in frustration.

    But Vikir continued on his way to the recycling center.

    There were various sorted sacks of trash lying around there.

    ''...There was always an impressive janitor here.''

    As it turns out, the janitor''s room is also home to an old broom, a dustpan with a hole in it, and more.

    But there''s no time to admire the scenery.

    [Grrrrrrrrrrr!]

    A bunch of hellhounds are charging toward Vikir.

    Just then.

    Buuk-

    Vikir lifted the bulging sacks next to the broom and dustpan and slit open their sides with his sword.

    And then he threw the things inside to the hellhounds.

    "Here, eat this."

    The contents of the sacks rained down on the hellhounds'' heads.

    It was a hairy, yellow-skinned fruit.

    And the hellhounds, covered in it, began to scream and struggle like crazy.

    [kkaegaegaegaeng! keong! kkeuang!]

    [keuaaang! keoheong! geeg-]

    [weeeeg! guwag!]

    Grenouille watched in disbelief as the hellhounds wrapped their front paws around their noses and gagged.

    " ... Bank?"

    Yes. Dozens of sacks of it, piled high in the recycling bin.

    Ginkgo trees are favored as street trees because they repel insects, but the only downside is the stinky fruit that falls on the road every season.

    And this is an exceptionally smelly ''sabik'' ginkgo. Its aroma is so strong that it wipes out the earthy smell of Morg''s potatoes.

    When you go to the school''s recycling center, you''ll always see them stacked in bags.

    Ujik-

    When several hellhounds stepped on the ginkgo fruit, yellow juice began to spurt out and an even stronger smell began to spread.

    Hellhounds, who already have a sensitive sense of smell, cannot tolerate this foul smell and vomit.

    It was then that Vikir drew his sword.

    ...pow! pow! pow! pow! pow! pow! pow! pow! pow! pow! pow! pow!

    Each time the red awl flicked back and forth, one hellhound inevitably closes its eyes and sticks out its tongue.

    Several hellhounds tried to fight back, but there was no way a proper fight was possible with sulfur flowing out of their eyes and noses.

    Dug, dug, dug, dug.

    As Vikir killed more hellhounds, stat candy continued to drop.

    Red candies for strength. Green candies for agility. Blue candies for stamina.

    Red candies were the mostmon, followed by blue candies, and then green candies.

    "The agility stat is really hard to get."

    Vikir thought as he looked at the pile of candies in front of him.

    ''If the candy store openster, I can exchange 300 stat candies for 1 level candy, so I''d better start saving up for that.''

    Just then.

    A fairy appeared in front of Vikir''s eyes.

    They usually appear out of nowhere, but this time it was even more sudden.

    [Wow, did you kill all th ese child ren ? Are yo u qu ite irre gr ? ]

    The fairy stuck out its tongue as it looked at the dead bodies of hellhounds spread out on the floor of the recycling bin.

    Then, in a soft voice, it gave Vikir a choice.

    [ Sin ce you ha ve ma de su ch a gr eat ach ieve ment, you sho uld take the gr eat rew ard, rig ht ? ]

    At the same time, something appeared in front of Vikir''s eyes.

    -Tingling!

    [''Level 1 Warrior'' Vikir has sessfully hunted down the ''B+ Rank Monster Hellhound Pack'' for the first time in the Tutorial Zone!]

    [Rewards will be given out for ''great'' achievements!]

    [You will be able to adjust the difficulty of the mission for one time]

    [Would you like to increase the difficulty level?]

    [The mission with the increased difficulty will be a ''bonus stage'']

    [If you clear the ''bonus stage'', you will receive additional rewards!]

    Asking if I want to increase the difficulty.

    That means. Now that the entire group of hellhounds has been killed, will you allow a more dangerous monster to appear?

    "How could you possibly allow this, you idiot!?"

    Grenouille raised the middle fingers of both hands and shouted at the fairy.

    But Vikir, standing next to him, had a different idea.

    "I''ll do it. Send something."

    A more powerful boss monster. This was what Vikir wanted.

    The stronger and more dangerous the monster, the better and more valuable the reward.

    The fairyughed unpleasantly next to Grenouille''s astonished expression.

    [I li ke it, I li ke it, I li ke it so mu ch? Are you will ing to ta ke on th at chal lenge? Th en we can get star ted rig ht aw ay , rig ht ? ]

    At the same time, a ck hole appeared in the fairy''s back.

    It was simr to the hole that had appeared when the hellhounds had been summoned earlier, but there was only one, and it was much wider in diameter.

    And.

    A monster of adjusted difficulty began to appear before Vikir''s eyes.

    "...Ah, this must be a dream."

    A magical beast that was enough to make even Grenouille, who had somehow managed to hold on until now, lose his mind.

    But Vikir''sment was short.

    "Long time no see."

    Three heads emerged from the gate. Only one body.

    <Cerberus(��?�Ѧ¦ŦѦ�?)>

    Danger rating: A+.

    Size: 7 meters

    Found in: Ridge 7, Red and ck Mountains

    -A.K.A. ''Hell Watchdog''

    This dog has no interest in wraiths trying to enter Hell, but will immediately tear them to shreds if they try to escape.

    It lives in the depths of the Oil World, the final destination for all wraiths, and is considered the ultimate of oil world monsters.

    Cerberus the Hell Watchdog, the boss of the bonus stage.

    It''s ring at Vikir with a fiery, intimidating gaze.

 Chapter 310: Hell Tree (6)

    <h4>Chapter 310: Hell Tree (6)</h4>

    [grrrrr...]

    Cerberus began to emit dark murderous energy.

    "Long time no see."

    Vikir couldn''t help but think of the long-ago confrontation on the Red and ck Mountain.

    His first monthly evaluation at the age of 8. His childhood in the wilds of the Red and ck Mountains.

    Back then, he''d caught them with chocte obtained from beating the Baskervilles'' triplets, a pit trap he''d spent days carving, and abo move that utilized the venom of the Bloody Mamba he''d saved from its Cradle.

    "Do you recognize this scent? It belongs to your kind."

    Vikir took out the hood of the picaresque mask he was wearing around his neck and took it out of his cor.

    The hood was sewn from Cerberus''s hide.

    It had been tanned countless times, but the dog''s scent had neverpletely disappeared.

    Cerberus''s face contorted even more frighteningly when he smelled his own kind.

    [Kwaaagh!]

    Vikir stumbled backwards, dodging the teeth and ws of the charging Cerberus.

    Kurrrr! Pug!

    Beelzebub, coated in a sticky liquid aura, mmed into Cerberus''s side.

    ''I felt it.''

    It didn''t pierce the thick hide, but it did manage to drive the impact into it.

    Probably cracked some bones.

    But.

    ...Swash!

    Cerberus swung its tail as soon as its side gave way, mming into Vikir''s body.

    When people think of Cerberus, they think of its three heads, but its real weapon is its tail.

    The sharp spear at the tip of its tail and the venom that coats it are enough to instantly kill a Danger ss A or higher creature with a single stab.

    Vikir himself was poisoned by the tip of his tail.

    Hororok-

    A young madam crawled out from the side, sucking the poison from Vikir''s wound.

    Tsutsutsutsutsuts...

    The basilisk''s regenerative ability makes the wound on its side heal in an instant.

    Kang! Kaang- Ttang! Chaang-

    Cerberus'' tail and Vikir''s sword began to sh fiercely.

    A spark from the sh caught the bangs of the stunned Grenouille.

    "Ouch! Hot! What is it! Hic!"

    Upon opening his eyes, he saw Vikir and Cerberus shing with terrifying force.

    Sssh.

    A long line of blood drew across Vikir''s cheek.

    Seeing it, Grenouille eximed.

    "That, look at that! How is he going to catch Cerberus with a body 100 times weaker...!"

    But before he could finish his sentence.

    Bam!

    Vikir brought one of Cerberus''s heads up with his knee.

    Cerberus'' middle head cackled, missing its lower jaw.

    "...You caught it?"

    Grenouille mumbles, looking dazed.

    Even school professors fight on equal footing against a monster the size of a human, and with a body a hundred times weaker?

    ''Ho, how can a level 1 be able to fight like that, who the hell is he?''

    Just to be sure, Grenouille punches the wall with his fist, and it''s clear that his strength has been reduced by a hundredth.

    Grenouille began to shudder at the thought of how strong Vikir''s original fighting power must have been before he was trapped in the tower.

    Meanwhile. Vikir was slowly falling back.

    Cerberus, with its poisonous spirit, was a much more difficult opponent to deal with than expected.

    What''s more, the creature in front of him now, having been brought by the fairy straight from the depths of the Oil Fields, was muchrger and more ferocious than the one he had faced on the ck Mountain.

    Even if he somehow wins, this is still only the second level of the underground. At this rate, it would be a battle of attrition.

    ''One chance.''

    Vikir leapt toward Cerberus once again.

    Boom.

    Cerberus''s forepaws flew out.

    It was a familiar demeanor, as if Cerberus had already figured out Vikir''s strength and speed after a few engagements.

    However.

    ''...Now!''

    Just before Cerberus shed with him, Vikir reached into his pocket and pulled out all of the strange candies that were inside.

    Warglock-

    The sensation of small, hard, round, sticky things in his grasp.

    Red candies for strength, green candies for agility, and blue candies for stamina.

    Vikir shoved them into his mouth and chewed.

    Crunch, crunch, crunch!

    A salty, bitter, astringent vor that reached the root of his tongue.

    ''...I''ve heard that some people can''t eat them because of the taste.''

    Even Vikir, who had a strong stomach, feel nauseous.

    At the same time, the status window began to change.

    <Vikir>.

    -LV: 1 (%)

    -Title: ''Gutter Rat Hunter''

    -Stats.

    Strength: 178 (+52) = 230

    ?Agility: 203 (+16) = 219

    ?Stamina: 207 (+37) = 244

    ??: (Locked)

    ??: (Locked)

    ??: (Locked)

    The stats have risen dramatically.

    Cerberus was startled by the sudden surge in strength and speed of Vikir and tried to retreat, but it was already toote.

    Pugg!

    Vikir''s sword pierced Cerberus'' skull.

    The sword sliced through the tough leather, pierced the eyeball, and stabbed the brain inside.

    ''But this won''t kill itpletely.''

    Monsters with a Danger Rating of A+ or higher have an incredible amount of vitality.

    This is especially true for a creature like Cerberus.

    Pugg, Pugg, Pugg!

    Vikir twisted the sword inserted into the crevice of the skull sharply from side to side.

    Only then did the foreign sensation on the back of his handpletely dissipate.

    The inner muscle fibers, nerve bundles, and brain had beenpletely crushed.

    [Kaeng-grrrrrrrr...]

    As one of the three skulls went limp, the other two went on a mad rampage.

    Vikir stepped back and grabbed Grenouille by the scruff of the neck from the floor.

    ''This one still has use.''

    Vikir said briefly to Grenouille, who looked on in horror.

    "Enough of this. Let''s get out of here."

    "Huh? Huh?"

    "Grab your sack."

    Vikir gave Grenouille a swift kick on the butt and lunged forward.

    "Wait! Aaaah! What did I do to get you so pissed off!"

    Grenouille was running with a tearful face on his face, but remained clutching the sack containing ginkgo sabik fruit as Vikir had instructed.

    Then Vikir ran into the ruins of a shop.

    Cerberus followed him in, sulfurous fire zing from all sides of its body.

    A threat to burn down the entire ruined city.

    "Sow the ginkgo."

    At Vikir''s order, Grenouille closed his eyes and threw away the sack.

    Whack- whack- whack- whack- whack-.

    The foul-smelling sabik ginkgo berries scattered across the shop floor.

    Unlike a hellhound, Cerberus merely wrinkled its nose and furrowed its brow, but didn''t gag or drop to the floor in disgust.

    "You''ve got a pretty nasty nose for a high-level monster."

    As Vikir admired, Cerberus bared his teeth and ws.

    The spear at the tip of its tail was also aimed at Vikir.

    Grenouille cried out in horror.

    "Ugh, what''s with the ginkgo? It doesn''t work!"

    The stench of the Sabik Ginkgo''s fruit, though foul, appeared to be tolerable to Cerberus.

    But.

    "Let''s see if this one holds up."

    Vikir held his breath and swung his sword.

    Not at Cerberus, but at a dusty shelf.

    A quick stroke sliced through the walls, cupboards, and shelves of the shop.

    Crash, crash, crash, crash!

    ss bottles shattered everywhere.

    Grenouille stared down in disbelief at the shattering ss and red, blue, and clear liquids before him.

    The colorful liquids scattered into the air andnded on the ground where the sabik ginkgo fruits were scattered.

    Cheolpuk- Cheolpuduk- Pompompompompomp...

    A scent passing by the tip of his nose, and words written on a broken ss bottle

    Grenouille stammered and read it.

    "...B��atrice Newell. Brand new?"

    They were perfumes of all kinds.

    At the same time.

    "Uh-weh-weh-weh!"

    Grenouille vomited up everything in his stomach with a tearful snort.

    What was this horrible smell!

    ''Nose, my nose feels like it''s rotting, my brain feels like it''s melting!''

    One day, someone walked into the ssroom after stepping on a ginkgo.

    The smell of the ginkgo pressed into the soles of his shoes,bined with the scent of everyone else''s perfume, made the room smell like it had been sprayed with poison gas, and even the stern Professor Morg Banshee had to cancel ss.

    And now, without exaggeration, it smelled exactly 100 times worse than it did then.

    A level of fierce scent that not even Grenouille from Leviathan had ever smelled before.

    Even perfume is fragrant when it''s subtle, but when it''s mixed with so many concentrated liquids, it''s a headache-inducing stench.

    Even the foul-smelling sabic ginkgo berries.

    To add insult to injury.

    Patter-patter-patter-patter-

    Outside, it began to rain.

    [Gwe-Weeeeeeeek!]

    The prey began to react.

    Cerberus is the highest ranking member of the canine family of monsters.

    Its acute sense of smell makes this series of scents much more recognizable.

    [Guaagh! Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! Weeegh!]

    It shook its two remaining heads from side to side trying to figure out if it was getting a headache from trying to digest what was in its stomach.

    And then.

    "Well, I can''t wait to see what the fairy has in store for me."

    In front of Cerberus, Vikir stood with an expressionless face, with cotton pads stuffed into both nostrils.

    Completely prepared to kill the prey.

 Chapter 311: Hell Tree (7)

    <h4>Chapter 311: Hell Tree (7)</h4>

    ...Pow!

    Thest of Cerberus'' heads exploded.

    kung-

    As the monster''s massive body fell to the floor of the ruins, a slight earthquake urred.

    The sulfur and blood that spewed from Cerberus'' bursting belly swept away the perfume and ginkgo scent from the floor of the shop.

    -Ding!

    [''Level 1 Warrior'' Vikir has sessfully hunted the ''A+ Ranked Monster Cerberus'' for the first time!]

    [Rewards are given for ''awesome'' achievements!]

    A loud beeping sound erupts.

    "...Huu."

    Vikir sat down with a tired expression.

    Catching Cerberus with a body that was 100 times weaker was definitely hard work.

    Then Grenouille, who was beside him, said with a tired expression.

    "You''re usually called persistent, aren''t you?"

    "No. I''ve never heard of it."

    Vikir turned his head toward Grenouille and continued.

    "I killed them all before they could say that."

    Grenouille felt a shiver run down his spine.

    Just then.

    [Ehhh? Did you cat ch th is on e ? ]

    The fairy who had appeared out of nowhere began to fuss.

    [Huh? Is th is yo ur fir st ti me pass ing li ke th is ? ]

    The fairy''s attitude is that it didn''t expect Vikir to actuallyplete the mission.

    That''s why the fairy seemed to be quite flustered.

    [Wh at sho uld I do? In the begin ning, the rew ards th at can be giv en are limit ed? ]

    Then Vikir spoke up eagerly.

    "Do you happen to have any artifacts or items that you can give away? I don''t mind if they''re consumables."

    [ Mm mm mm mm mm mm ? ]

    It looks like it isn''t there.

    Vikir opened his mouth as if there was nothing else to do.

    "Oh well, it''s not a mission I''m supposed toplete, so I guess they didn''t think of a proper reward, just a way to make fun of the people trapped in the tower."

    Then Vikir spoke up, sounding very offended.

    "But you know what? A craftsman who could create such an borate system would be very particr about his output. He must have selected only masterpieces for each floor."

    [ Mmmm mmmm mmmm ? ]

    "But isn''t it a little strange that such an error urs from the very beginning of such a result? Could it be that the one just now was an extra-standard mission that someone did for fun? He exercised his authority purely out of his own power...."

    At those words, the fairy looked extremely hot.

    It was trying to look calm and avert its gaze, but you could see the heart pounding furiously in its cleft stomach.

    Vikir cut in.

    "You don''t need any rewards for this bonus stage. Instead, I will file a im against the tower''s administrators when I see themter. I''m going toin, and I''m going toin loud and clear."

    Then the fairy cried out urgently.

    [ Is the re a rew ard? Are you rea dy for yo ur rewa rd ? ]

    It was only at the mention of a reward that Vikir smiled.

    "Then give it to me. Reward."

    [But the rew ard th at can be giv en in the begin ning is limit ed ? ]

    Vikir knew very well that the only reward a fairy could give in the beginning was a strange candy.

    So Vikir was able to say firmly.

    "I''m quantity over quality."

    [You do n''t hesit ate to say th at ? ]

    "That''s right. As long as you don''t mind the quantity."

    Before Vikir could nod, the fairy opened its mouth so wide that the corners of both mouths were torn open and blood gushed out.

    [ Bweh ee eek ? ]

    Then, the fairy began to spit out a huge amount of candy from its mouth.

    Red, green, and blue candies poured out of her mouth.

    Grenouille''s eyes widened at the number of candies, which must have been hundreds.

    "Oh my God! Look at all these stats! If I eat all these, I''ll be strong in no time!"

    But Vikir just shook his head as he picked up the candies.

    ''... Not even close.''

    The color of the falling candy is random, but red candies are the mostmon, followed by blue, and then green.

    This means that strength stats are the mostmon, stamina stats aremon, and agility stats are rare.

    In fact, most of the candy the fairy spit out was red and blue, and not much green.

    Just then.

    "...!"

    Vikir''s eyes widened.

    Vikir quickly reached out and grabbed a candy that was stuck at the bottom of the pile.

    It was the only other color among the red, green, and blue candies.

    ''I can''t believe I got this here!''

    Vikir eximed inwardly, examining the candy with a nonchnt expression.

    -<Strange Candy> / Physical Resistance / ck

    A candy that increases Physical Resistance by 1.

    Tastes spicy.

    +1 Physical Resistance

    ck, like a concentrated form of darkness. At first nce, it doesn''t look like any other stat candy.

    Vikir regained the knowledge he had gained before his regression.

    ''ording to the Memoirs of the Great Heroes, there are six types of stats that can be raised inside the tower: Strength, Agility, and Stamina, which can be raised early on, but the other three stats can only be raisedter in the stage. The drop rate of candy is extremely low to begin with, so it''s possible that you won''t get any at all on your way to the top.''

    Six stats. Three of which are Strength, Agility, and Stamina. They were ''ultra-rare talents'' that even the most heroic of heroes had never managed to blossom on their way out of the tower.

    And one of them, Vikir had already gained.

    ''Physical Resistance. A stat that reduces the damage taken by an attack.''

    Without thinking twice, Vikir ate the ck candy.

    Gulp!

    As he passed the candy down his throat, he felt a pungent vor that burned his tongue and throat.

    -Ding!

    The status window changed.

    <Vikir>.

    -LV: 1 (%)

    -Title: ''Gutter Rat Hunter'', ''Hell''s Dog'' (NEW)

    -Stats.

    Power: 230

    ?Agility: 219

    ?Stamina: 244

    ?Physical Resistance: 0 (+1) = 1

    ??: (Locked)

    ??: (Locked)

    Unlike the base stats, which are above a certain number from the start, the special stat, Physical Resistance, starts at 0.

    This is because this stat is an innate talent that cannot be raised in the real world.

    It can only be raised in this tower.

    ''Once you''ve eaten the candy and unlocked it, your stats will naturally increase as you level up. If you leave it alone, it will grow with your level.''

    To be able to bloom and grow this stat so early on was an incredible stroke of luck.

    Plus, it gave us a new title: The Hell''s Dog.

    -New Title: Hell''s Dog

    ? Deal massive additional damage to creatures in dog form.

    Taunt, Confuse, Blind, Bleed, Burn, Poison, and other status abnormalitiesst slightly longer.

    ''Title perks aside, unlocking the Physical Resistance stat early on is a huge opportunity.''

    In fact, the whole point of trying to get to the bottom of the tower is toplete the big six stats.

    While leveling up is important, it''s actually more important toplete these six stats.

    Six types of stats that you can take with you outside the tower. But collecting them all was a feat that none of the great heroes before the Regression had ever aplished.

    Then.

    A fairy spoke to Vikir, who was sitting still and lost in thought.

    [Ov er the re ov er the re? Do you by any chan ce ne ed a can dy sto re ? ]

    After speaking, the fairy stretched out a finger and brought up a status window.

    -<Fairy''s Candy Store>

    Selling and buying unused candy!

    -Strange candy (golden color): Can be exchanged for 300 candies of any color.

    The fairy stuck out its tongue and showed the golden candy that was sold in this shop.

    -<Strange Candy> / Level / Golden

    A candy that raises your level by 1.

    Tastes sweet.

    -Level +1

    A golden candy with a brilliant glow.

    Grenouille looks at it longingly.

    "Oh my. It''s going to level me up? Each one of those will restore 1% of my real-world strength, so if I eat 100 of them, I''ll have 100% of my strength back! And when I leave the tower, those stats will be added to my original strength! This is the best candy ever!"

    For survivors weakened by a hundred times, this is the candy they need most of all.

    But it''s too expensive. You can get it in any color, but it costs 300 pieces, making it a raremodity that''s hard to find in the early stages.

    ...This, of course, doesn''t apply to Vikir, who had a bunch of hellhounds on thest stage.

    "Hmm."

    When Vikir looked troubled, the fairy encouraged him even more subtly.

    [ Won''t any one be ab le to use the can dy sto re, and if you rai se yo ur le vel, yo ur sta ts will natu rally go up as well ? ].

    Literally. Leveling up will give you back some of your strength outside of the tower, so it makes sense to try to level up quickly in the beginning.

    ...But Vikir shakes his head.

    ''Leveling up is still taboo.''

    Vikir stared at the number 1 on the level marker for a while.

    A younger chick would be all-in on collecting stat candy and turning it into level candy, but not Vikir.

    Vikir hadn''t been leveling for a while, for quite some time.

    ''This tower favors lower levels.''

    ording to the memoirs of great heroes, there are some rules about rewards within this tower.

    If a strong person does a great deed, they get a modest reward.

    If a weak person performs a small feat, they receive a modest reward.

    When a strong person performs a small feat, they receive almost no reward.

    ... But.

    When a weak person does something great.

    In these cases, the reward is something that goes far beyond themon sense.

    Vikir noted the notification he had heard earlier.

    [''Level 1 warrior'' Vikir is part of the ''leveling system''... ... ]

    [Vikir, ''Warrior at Level 1'', has killed the first F-ranked monster in the Tutorial Zone...]

    [''Rare'' achievement rewards...]

    [Vikir, a ''Level 1 Warrior'', killed the first B+ ranked monster in the Tutorial Zone...]

    [Reward for ''Difficult'' achievements...]

    [Vikir, a ''Level 1 Warrior'', kills his first B+ ranked monster... group...]

    [''Great'' achievement...]

    [Vikir, a ''Level 1 Warrior'', sessfully hunted the first ''A+ Ranked Monster Cerberus''...]

    [''Awesome''...]

    As part of the leveling system, Vikir is considered an ''underdog''.

    Even if his stats are superior to those of others, he is still considered to be of the same ss.

    ''If a ''Level 1 Warrior'' continues to clear difficult missions, the rewards will get better and better.''

    Vikir was stronger than the other students, and even at level 1, he was able to make up for his shorings with his stats.

    ''So it''s better to stay low in the beginning and take on the harder missions to maximize the rewards.''

    This was a very different strategy from the typical survivor.

    And Vikir knows one more reason not to level up.

    ''There wille a point in time when all those levels won''t matter. I don''t know exactly when that will be, but... I think it''s better to save my candy levels until then.

    The uneaten stat candies (red, green, and blue) could be exchanged for level candies (golden) at the candy storeter, so there was no reason to rush to level up.

    After organizing his thoughts, Vikir stopped trading with the fairy.

    [Ah hing ang eh? Ah shhhh? ]

    When Vikir did not give in to fairy coaxing, the fairy let out a strange, meaningless groan and closed the trading window.

    And that moment.

    Cuddleddleddled...

    A strong earthquake urred, and the ground in this area began to sink.

    "What! 108 minutes must have passed already!"

    Grenouille was right.

    -Ding!

    <Mission over> �C Number of survivors: 69 people.

    The same status window popped up in front of Vikir and Grenouille.

    Probably all 69 survivors of hellhounds'' attack.

    Kuoooooo!

    A ck, swirl-shaped gate opened, sucking in everyone who fell below.

    -Ding!

    [Leaving Underground Level 2 ''Familiar Ground'']

    [Entering Underground Level 3 ''Familiar Ground (2)'']

    It looked like all the survivors of the second floor were going to fall to the same ce.

 Chapter 312: Surplus Man (1)

    <h4>Chapter 312: Surplus Man (1)</h4>

    <Mission End> �C Number of survivors: 69 people

    *End condition: Survive an attack by 108 Hellhounds for 108 minutes

    -Ding!

    [Leaving Underground Level 2 ''Familiar Ground'']

    [Entering Underground Level 3 ''Familiar Ground (2)'']

    It was still a dull notification sound.

    The 69 survivors of the second floor had fallen into the third floor.

    " What, this ce?"

    "It''s the Imperial Capital."

    "We''re outside the Academy!"

    For a moment, the students'' faces lit up as they realized they were outside the tower.

    But their faces soon turned grim as they realized that thendscape of the Imperial Capital was simr to that of the Academy.

    Cold, deste ruins. Imperial Capital used to be more vibrant and bustling than any other city, but now everything was broken and cracked.

    Broken windows and rusted doors, leaning roofs and half-broken pirs.

    It was still daylight, so the sun was shining, but the dry, barren cold was still there.

    Then.

    "Hey, hey, what''s that?"

    "Ugh... It''s huge."

    "It looks creepy."

    "Don''t you think we shouldn''t approach it?"

    As the students cautiously walked through the city, they soon noticed something strange.

    The central clock tower, symbolizing the center of the Imperial Capital. A structure that had once been destroyed by Miss Urobors and lost its form.

    Yet here it stood, still standing.

    Chipped and cracked in ces, but still standing on a grand scale.

    But that wasn''t the most surprising thing.

    "There''s something wrapped around the clock tower."

    "It''s a nt vine, or maybe a root."

    "What''s that on top of the tower? It''s huge."

    "...It looks like a flower."

    A nt wraps itself around the clock tower.

    It was a huge flower blooming on the roof of the tower, with shriveled leaves, roots, and vines hanging down.

    ''The withered flower''.

    The students could soon see that the huge flower waspletely dead on top of the clock tower.

    "Hey. This flower is subtly warm."

    "I''m not cold next to it. We can spend the night here."

    "What is this, a leaf? No, the air sacs have dried up and shrunk."

    "Is there something like a little air inside? It''s soft so we can use it as a pillow."

    The students split into two groups.

    Those who would search the ruins for safety, and those who would stay near the flower''s remains to avoid tonight''s bitter cold.

    Those who chose to stay around the flower covered themselves with dried roots and leaves and began to rest.

    Those who went to the ruins sought shelter among the copsed rubble, in sewers, basements, iron trash cans, and on roofs.

    In most cases it fell into thetter category.

    The memory of hiding from hellhounds in the previous stage was still fresh in their minds.

    But for Vikir, it was the former.

    The dried leaves were warm because they contained the warmth of the sun.

    To the touch, it felt tough and dry, with a hint of air inside.

    Vikir covered it andy down half covered. This is because he want to regain his stamina.

    ... Time passed, and as the day wore on, it turned out that Vikir was right.

    "You''re too cold."

    "Why are you so cold?"

    "I don''t have anything to keep the cold out...."

    "You''re going to freeze to death."

    Cold concrete, ss, and rail could not block the cold.

    Students who had been hiding in various parts of the ruins crawled out, shivering, and gathered at the ''withered flower'' of the central clock tower.

    "Ah, it looks like we''re finally going to live."

    "Strange. It''s warm around this flower."

    "It must have had a lot of energy when it was alive."

    "It must have had a lot of energy when it was alive to be able to retain this much heat even after death."

    "But why is a creature of this size lying dead in a ce like this?"

    "I don''t know. What the hell am I supposed to do here?"

    "No fairy, no mission."

    With a bit of a breather, the students began toin about their current situation.

    Then. The second crisis hit.

    Growling-

    Now that the cold is gone, hunger is a problem.

    The students left their seats again and searched throughout the ruins, but as expected, they found almost nothing that could be used as food.

    A chocte bar with an unreadable expiration date, some bloated canned foods, some rotten-smelling meat, and a few withered bunches of weeds were all that was avable.

    Even then, the amount of food was ridiculously small for everyone to eat.

    Everyone is frustrated by the food shortage.

    ... But there was one person who was cooking alone, out of sight, out of mind.

    It was Vikir.

    Bubbly, bubbling...

    Vikir lit a barrel of used oil and ced a dented pot over it.

    He caught rainwater from the tents and boiled it.

    "Hey. Why are you boiling water?"

    Grenouille, who was watching from the side, asked.

    Vikir answered quietly.

    "I need to eat."

    "Really? Is there food?"

    Grenouille asks, swallowing hard, and Vikir nods.

    With that, Vikir stretched out Beelzebub''s sword and held it to the withered stem of the flower.

    ...Poof!

    He stabbed with his aura, and the nt''s stem began to chip away, bit by bit.

    The stem of the nt was extremely tough, and even with Vikir''s aura, it wasn''t easy to cut through it.

    The other students probably couldn''t even dream of it.

    Soon, Vikir held two broken pieces the size of his little fingernails on his fingertips.

    Grenouille shook his head.

    "You''re going to eat that, and it''s going to be so little?"

    But what happened next made Grenouille''s jaw drop.

    ...pongdang!

    A piece of the nt''s stem was ced in boiling water and an amazing transformation urred.

    Bubbly, bubbling...

    The stem piece, which was the size of a little fingernail, soon swelled to an enormous size.

    It was as thick and long as an adult man''s forearm.

    "It looks small because it''s dried out. If you eat it, it will expand to a huge size in your stomach."

    Hearing Vikir''s words, Grenouille swallowed hard.

    The stem was too hard and tough to cut through, but even if he could, his stomach wouldn''t be able to handle it if he ate it just because he was hungry.

    "De-definitely. If I ate that much, my stomach would burst and I would die."

    Grenouille watched, then dipped a minute stalk into the water.

    Vikir didn''t say anything.

    Grenouille seemed to have noticed this as well, so he began to nibble on the stem of the nt while observing Vikir''s perception.

    "You, by the way."

    "Hmm?"

    "Why are you being so nice to me?"

    Vikir had saved Grenouille''s life from a pack of hellhounds in the previous stage.

    Now he''s feeding him.

    Vikir gazed at Grenouille in wonder.

    To be precise, he was looking at the ne hanging on Grenouille''s chest.

    "...Well, we''re friends."

    Vikir said nonchntly and looked away.

    In essence, the word friend cannot be used to refer to people of simr age and in the same ss.

    Vikir knew this, but he said nothing.

    But for some reason, the corners of Grenouille''s eyes became moist.

    ''... friend.''

    Grenouille hadn''t made a single friend since entering the Colosseo Academy.

    Everyone in his ss followed him around, watching for anything to drop.

    The seniors are the ones to approach for connections.

    Moreover, he was always craving attention and recognition from his father, the patriarch of the family, and his older brothers.

    However, being the youngest, he was treated like a child, and no matter how great his achievements were, he could never achieve anything new because his older brothers had already gone through it all before, leaving him lonely and dull.

    That hadn''t changed since he''d entered the Academy.

    But now. Grenouille was feelingplex emotions that he couldn''t quite put his finger on.

    ''I want to be friends... with this guy.''

    Grenouille had felt this way in the University League, but this kid in front of him was like a big brother, even though he was younger.

    And when Vikir told him he was a friend, he felt recognized.

    When Grenouille was blushing with a pride he didn''t recognize.

    "Hey. Isn''t that you, Grenouille?"

    A voice called out from behind him.

    Grenouille turned to see a group of third-year Aristocrat Faction seniors standing there.

    "I thought you were killed by hellhounds earlier, but you weren''t."

    "Thank goodness you''re alive. A Leviathan, after all! Strong and reliable."

    "Hurry over here. Ah, it''s good to have the youngest again."

    "I''m sorry I couldn''t save you earlier. I''ll take you out of the tower and give you a big drink instead. Haha-"

    They were gesturing toward Grenouille as if what had happened in the previous stage was no big deal.

    Grenouille hesitated. These were the same people he''d gotten along with before entering the tower.

    ''What do I do?''

    Vikir had his own group outside the tower.

    Grenouille was torn for a moment, not sure which way to go.

    "That... I...."

    After a brief deliberation, Grenouille opens his mouth to say what choice he just made.

    [hot hot hot hot hot ? ]

    A bizarreugh suddenly came from nowhere.

    At that moment, all the students turned their heads with wide eyes.

    A bizarre ball of flesh could be seen floating in the air.

    It was a fairy.

    [Hell o to all 69 peo ple surviv ors ? Is th is the appear ance of yo ur cu te fai ry ? ]

    The fairy gave a mission when it appeared.

    <Mission> �C Survive 1~69 days in the ruins!

    �� ??? Avoid!

    [Is the miss ion you wi ll perf orm sim ple th is ti me too ? Can you ju st sur vive ? ]

    There was a stir among the students.

    "Really? Are we really just supposed to stay alive?"

    "But what''s 1 to 69? Does it mean we just have to survive one day or 69 days?"

    "Yeah. The time frame is unclear."

    "Common sense says you can''t survive 69 days in this cold, hungry ce. But then again, it would be too easy to just survive one day...."

    Just then.

    A student who seemed to be a leader stood up.

    Usually a sharp analytical and critical thinker in ss, he had once again found a w in the fairy''s exnation.

    "Wait a minute. Something doesn''t add up. What''s the small print under the mission?"

    Sure enough, all eyes turned to the direction his fingertips were pointing.

    �� ??? Avoid!

    A puzzling message. What could it be?

    Then the fairy who was about to disappear came back in a hurry, as if forgetting something.

    [Ah cha cha cha? Did I for get to un lock it ? ]

    Forgot? What do you mean forgot?

    The student who had pointed out the fairy snorted pathetically.

    "If you''re going to bring all these people to y pranks, do it right, you demon, do you have to be so sloppy?"

    [ sor ry ? Did I alm ost ma ke a big mis take ? ]

    The fairy apologized to all the students, including the model student, in a sheepish manner.

    And then.

    ...snap!

    The fairy lifted up a finger and let a drop of ck blood fall into the air.

    "?"

    A single drop of blood dripped down, sticky as tar, in front of all the students'' puzzled faces.

    It fell onto the dried roots of the nt on the ground and quickly soaked in.

    And immediately, a terrible ident urred.

    Kkuddeuk-deuk-deuk-deuk!

    A bizarre noise began to echo throughout the giant clock tower building.

    The vines that had been dry and dead just moments before were slowly moving.

    At the same time.

    Ttugak-

    The model student back who had who had given a warning to the fairy, suddenly broke.

    A long, tough vine that had been hanging from the wall of the clock tower had suddenly wrapped itself around his waist and grabbed him.

    "...?"

    He barely felt the pain from his broken back.

    He was overwhelmed by the sight of a huge flower on the roof of the tower, opening its gaping mouth.

    The mouth, which was wide open as if smiling, was filled with teeth that were terrifying to look at, sticking out all the way up, down, left and right.

    ...Pujig!

    It took less than a second for a human to be transformed into an insignificant piece of meat in the flower''s gaping mouth.

    Blood flowed out of the gaping mouth.

    At the same time, the mission window changed.

    <Mission> �C Survive in the ruins for 1-68 days!

    �� Avoid ''Daylily of Blood Tree''!

    The fairy chuckled.

    [Now you on ly ne ed to sur vive for a maxi mum of 68 da ys, rig ht?]

 Chapter 313: Surplus Man (2)

    <h4>Chapter 313: Surplus Man (2)</h4>

    "Oh. You''re finally awake."

    Vikir said as he stretched.

    A giant flower bloomed atop the clock tower. It opened its gaping mouth like it wasughing and chewed on a human.

    Crunch- crunch- crunch- crunch...

    Bones and bits of flesh mixed with the gurgling blood.

    As the blood soaked in, the surrounding vines, which had dried up like mummies, seemed to wrinkle ever so slightly.

    All the students stepped back in horror at the ghastly sight.

    The fairy chuckled and said.

    [ Do es th is  nt eat a per son onc e a day ? It''s st ill sm all, so one per son a day wo uld be eno ugh, rig ht ? Do it eat th e liv ing and th e de ad ali ke ? ]

    Danger level S. ''Daylily of Blood Tree''.

    A powerful demon tree that, although it is an immature creature, must eat a person a day.

    It was a dangerous creature that could not even bepared to the hellhounds they had encountered in the previous stage.

    Realizing this instinctively, the students stared at the cannibalistic flower on the clock tower in disbelief.

    "No way! You expect us to spend 69 days in a ce where such a monster lurks?"

    "Oh, no, it''s only 68 days now!"

    "Damn it, whatever!"

    "Calm down! It''s not important that one day is shortened, but why it was shortened!"

    "Maybe we can reduce it further here!"

    With the death of one person just now, there are fewer days to endure.

    But even so, 68 days was not a short time.

    With limited food and water, and with one person a day falling prey to the monster, it was a long time to wait.

    Everyone is watching with fear and anxiety.

    Meanwhile, Daylily stretched out its long tongue and pulled out the bits of meat stuck between its teeth, then went back to sleep.

    [ Did you see it ? It''s ok ay as lo ng as you don''t att ack it ? ]

    However, the fairy''s words that followed caused the students'' expressions to stiffen once again as they breathed a sigh of relief as soon as Daylily fell back to sleep.

    [ We ll, I gu ess it wi ll wa ke up aga in, rig ht ? ]

    The nightmare had only just begun.

    Now, the students have to fight cold, hunger, and blood-sucking daylilies for 68 days here.

    Some of the students gritted their teeth and tried to attack the stems of the daylilies, but there was no way they would be able to make a dent in the body of a Dangerous ss S monster in the first ce.

    Especially since they were a hundred times weaker than their strength outside the tower.

    "That''s wrong, I can''t even gather enough mana."

    "Ahhhhh! I don''t want to be in the same room with that monster! I don''t want to!"

    "But the ruins are so cold. Even if you don''t like it, if you don''t stay close to that monster...."

    "E! I''d rather freeze to death in a concrete sewer!"

    "Do you think that nt won''t find you? Didn''t you see the roots and vines growing out of it earlier?"

    "s, what am I supposed to do, I''m hungry and thirsty and... how am I supposed to spend 68 days here...."

    The students were frustrated. They were so confused and scared that they didn''t know what to do.

    Then. The fairy said good-naturedly.

    [Do not be so discour aged, I will br ing you a spe cial gi ft ? ]

    At the same time. strange things appeared before the eyes of all the surviving students.

    ... Pop, pop, pop!

    With a loud firecracker sound, a box fell into each of the students'' arms.

    It was a ck cube the size of a human head, with a red symbol ''?'' written near the lid.

    [ I''m afr aid you wi ll be ufor table if the re''s noth ing in it, so I''ve prep ared a spe cial gift for you �C Wh at''s inclu ded is ran dom ? ]

    ording to the fairy, it contains "items," tools that are called artifacts or Ooparts outside the tower.

    What''s inside is random, and if you''re lucky, you''ll pull out a powerful and useful item; if you''re unlucky, you''ll get a piece of junk.

    "Great! I''m good at these gacha draws. I''ll show you my luck!"

    One student was the first to open the box.

    The box was designed to be opened by lifting the lid, sticking your hand inside, and pulling out what was inside.

    You couldn''t turn it over or break it to get at the contents.

    "Let''s see. What''s inside?"

    The student stuck his hand inside the box.

    At that moment.

    ...Wham!

    An unpleasant crackling sound was heard.

    "Huh?"

    He pulled his arm out of the box and saw that his hand had been severed from around his wrist.

    "Ahhhhhh!?"

    As the student fell, holding his bleeding arm, the ck box naturally disappeared.

    [Do es ''bang'' al so co me out asi onally? Some th ing li ke Mim ic? Is it li ke th is ? ]

    The fairy''s words once again turned the faces of the students, who had seen the random box and had the slightest glimmer of hope in their eyes, into dead faces.

    The students were now divided into two groups.

    There are students who open the random box in front of them and students who do not.

    Most of them didn''t open the boxes because they''d seen people get their wrists blown off trying to open them earlier.

    However, there were quite a few students who opened the box anyway.

    "What if I don''t open it? I can''t just sit there and starve to death."

    "We have to get something before we die of hunger."

    "Damn it. I''m going to slit my wrists!"

    "Weapons,e out! Please! Something to defend myself...."

    The results of the randomized box were then revealed to the sound of loud fireworks.

    The most popr item was the "strange candy".

    Red, blue, and green candies, in that order.

    After that, someone had a fan full of feathers like those worn by nobledies, someone had a scary-edged iron sword, someone had a small harmonica, someone had a mace too heavy to lift, someone had salt and pepper, and someone had beef jerky. Some people provide drinking water, some people use farming tools....

    There was no shortage of items dropped in the randomized boxes.

    In addition to the group opening the random boxes, some of the more intelligent students began to analyze the situation.

    "At the beginning, the number of days we had to survive here was 69, and then it was reduced to 68, right?"

    "You don''t think 24 hours have passed since then, do you?"

    "I think the time we have to survive here is up to us."

    "What does that have to do with the fact that there were 69 survivors when we first got here?"

    "Surely the fewer people we have, the fewer days we have to survive?"

    "A n like that is certainly possible in the minds of the demons."

    The number of survivors who first came here was 69. 69 days to live here.

    But after a student was eaten alive by a daylily, the number of survivors dropped to 68.

    At the same time, the number of days they had to survive here was reduced to 68.

    Eventually, the students came up with a frightening deduction.

    The number of days to live here is equal to the number of survivors.

    ... What if the number of survivors decreased, the number of days they would have to endure decreased as well?

    "After a while, some of them will die of cold and hunger, and maybe before that, there will be more deaths due to violence over food and grudges."

    "That''s not so bad. It means we''ll have fewer days to live."

    "Still, I''ve been scouring the ruins and there''s not a whole lot of food. It''s just that most of it is spoiled or rotten."

    "If anythinges up, let''s eat this fat guy first. Kkkkkk�C"

    "What? What kind of joke is that, it''s not funny!"

    "...Do you think it''s a joke?"

    "...."

    The amount of time a person can go without eating is between three and seven days at most.

    If you have ess to some water, you can go up to 20 days.

    So 68 days without food in a cold, deste ruin like this is a long way to go.

    And if the daylilies wake up at this time tomorrow, that''s a problem.

    "It only takes one to get eaten and then it goes back to sleep, so why don''t we all run for our lives and let the slowest ones get eaten first?"

    "That seems like the fairest thing to do. It''s called natural selection."

    "Yeah, right. If you''re slow, you die."

    "Is that daylily so strong in the first ce? Can''t we all just fight it?"

    The students are talking to each other.

    The fairy added, as if she had forgotten something.

    [Isn''t th at rig ht? Daylilies get annoy ed wh en you mo ve a lot ? Th ey can eat six or eig ht pe ople in a sing le bi te ? It''s bet ter not to mo ve a lot, isn''t it ? ]

    After speaking, the fairy pointed to the inside of the window of the building next door.

    Where everyone''s eyes turned, there was a pile of bones.

    Allrge, thick bones.

    They were the remains of hellhounds, shattered all over the ce, along with the surrounding terrain.

    The fairy chuckled and pulled up a hologram window.

    It showed scenes of the hellhounds from the previous stage fighting against the Daylily of Blood Tree.

    Nearly a hundred hellhounds, each baring their teeth and ws, lunged at the Daylily of Blood.

    ...And the results were devastating.

    -Bam!

    The 100 hellhounds didn''tst 10 seconds against the Daylily of Blood.

    In the three-second window between 10 and 8 seconds, 50 of them were hit by the whip-like stems, separating their upper and lower bodies.

    In the span of 4 seconds, from 7 seconds to 4 seconds, 40 of them, slightly less than half, were hit by roots protruding from the floor, turning into blood clots and stuck to the floor.

    From 3 seconds until the count reached 0, the five surviving Hellhounds were hit by the poisonous breath that spewed out from the central tassel of the flower on the clock tower, melting into a handful of blood.

    From then on, the daylily ate the hellhound''s corpse for a while, but soon got tired of it and moved to another location.

    Annihtion.

    "...."

    A silence descends among the students.

    Even the Hellhounds that had harassed them so much in the previous stage were like this.

    If it''s true that Daylily grows more ferocious the more it moves, this means that in a worst-case scenario, it could kill all 68 of them at once.

    That''s one person a day, one human sacrifice.

    An eerie silence falls over the ruins. The 68 surviving students begin to fight for attention.

    Cold, hunger, and the risk of being chosen to be sacrificed to the monster.

    What''s more.

    "That cannibal flower. If we throw a corpse at it, it will eat and sleep, right?"

    "Of course it will, it said earlier that it eats both the living and the dead."

    "So it doesn''t just eat one person a day until everyone dies."

    "No. If everyone''s going to die, then all we can say is to die."

    "...Okay, that''s it. Anyway, it also eat corpses, right? It will make things easier."

    "I''m thinking the same thing, maybe even easier than thest stage?"

    Some of the students cast dangerous nces at the others.

    The atmosphere in the ruins was getting increasingly out of control.

 Chapter 314: Surplus Man (3)

    <h4>Chapter 314: Surplus Man (3)</h4>

    [Underground Level 3, "Familiar Ground (2)"]

    Only then were the 68 survivors gathered here able to fully understand their situation.

    "Shit. We need to worry about food, warmth, and survival tomorrow."

    "You all saw the video, it''s impossible to fight back."

    "Then we need to decide who will be our food tomorrow...."

    "Who are we going to sacrifice?"

    Rather than looking for food and protection from the cold right now, they should quickly find a way to satisfy the cannibal flower''s hunger tomorrow.

    The Daylily of Blood Tree.

    It is said that this dangerous creature will only go to sleep if it can feed on one human per day.

    The more movement it takes to catch its prey, the more food it needs, so we had to make sure it could feed with minimal movement.

    "That means... one of us has to be sacrificed."

    "Shit. You''ve just destroyed our unity and everything."

    "This is a demon''s ploy to separate us!"

    "So. If it''s a ploy, what are we supposed to do, not go along with it?"

    "...Who says? That''s just the way it is."

    No one disputed the idea that one person should be chosen from the herd to make a human sacrifice.

    The question then bes who, how much, and how to organize the sacrifice.

    "I don''t suppose anyone... would volunteer to be a sacrifice?"

    "How are we going to select the sacrifices in the first ce? Are we going to nominate them, vote on them, or look for conditions that will benefit themunity?"

    "Shouldn''t we first decide how many people to select?"

    Food and water are limited here. Even then, most of it is rotten or contaminated.

    They could probably survive for about two weeks if they persevered.

    In order to shorten 68 days to about 14 days, more than 50 people are needed at most.

    "Damn, 50 out of 68? That''s almost it, then!"

    "That''s the bare minimum, we might need to make more sacrifices. I can''t go hungry for more than three days."

    "What do you want me to do, you crazy person? Throw everyone but you into the feeding frenzy of that fucking flower!"

    "Who said that! I''m just saying that different people have different hunger tolerances!"

    "You fat bastard, you''ve been whining about being hungry since you were in school!"

    The argument intensifies all around. And then one of them shouted in anger.

    "I''m going to eat you!"

    Suddenly, the atmosphere in the room turned cold.

    The student who spoke up also stuttered, clearly flustered.

    "Eh? Eh, what''s with the atmosphere? I''m just saying this, guys... Of course it''s not my intention. Just ... Just...."

    But everyone had a hunch. What they had to do to survive two months in this ce.

    It''s not just about deciding what to feed the Daylily of Blood.

    They also had to decide what they would eat.

    Cannibalism. An ancient taboo. But a way of survival once familiar enough to be taboo.

    The demon''s message was simple.

    ''Eat each other!''

    Being reduced to mere prey in the presence of the Absolute was not the true bottom.

    What lies beneath is the underground, the chamber of horrific cannibalism.

    "...."

    "...."

    "...."

    One by one, the students were realizing what the demon was up to.

    No one was saying anything, but the silence, growing heavier and more murderous, showed it.

    After a long silence, one man stepped forward.

    It was ''Arthur Gordon Pym'', a third-year student who was the leader of the aristocratic faction.

    Gordon opened his mouth in a heavy tone.

    "Boys, we''re going to have to make some tough decisions."

    Everyone''s heads snapped up at that.

    Gordon continued.

    "Harsh decisions will continue to be required in the future, ... but for now, let''s focus on the problem at hand."

    All the students nodded in agreement.

    Let''s put aside the scary and horrifying thoughts of food, water, feeding, sacrifice, cannibalism, and kinsmen for a moment.

    What was urgent right now was the ''food'' that would calm the Daylily tomorrow.

    Gordon swallowed hard and said.

    "We need to decide on a sacrifice for the cannibal flower tomorrow, do you all agree?"

    Everyone nodded. Gordon spoke again.

    "Does anyone have any ideas on what criteria we should use to select the sacrifice?"

    "How about a vote on ...?"

    Someone raises their hand.

    A vote. Good. It''s a good idea. After all, students have always decided many things in school this way.

    But voting is basically a process of saying yes or no to a specific agenda.

    "In order to vote, the person or condition to be fed must first be presented, so that we can vote on whether or not to follow it."

    You could name a specific person and vote on whether or not to sacrifice them.

    But that''s too direct and aggressive for the average mind.

    The students chose to ''turn around'' and point out the target as a way to avoid guilt as much as possible.

    "Hey, how about this...?"

    The big man, his body packed with muscles, crossed his arms.

    "Even in nature, the weak are eliminated and the strong survive, so... would be sacrificed from weakest to strongest, and even if it was a dog fight, the weaker ones would most likely be sacrificed anyway, so...."

    "That''s ridiculous!"

    The rebuttal came straight from the other side.

    A girl with neatly styled hair and sses spoke up in a bubbly voice.

    "We''re human beings, we''re civilized, we''re intelligent, we''re not like that, we''re not like some wild animals with powers!"

    "Then by what criteria do you want to pick tomorrow''s sacrifice?"

    "That... I said before. We''re civilized people, we''re intelligent people, right? So why don''t we pick the sacrifices in order of stupidity, or school grades?"

    The idea of sacrificing them in order of weakness orck of studying came up.

    The big boy who had shouted earlier, still with his arms crossed, shouted.

    "We should sacrifice the weaker ones first, like that brat!"

    Where he looked, there was a small, timid looking boy cowering.

    However, where he would have cowered at the shouts of therger boys in school, he no longer did.

    "You say I''m weak, well, I don''t know. I think I''m stronger than you are now."

    "What, what?"

    The big boy flinched for a moment.

    The timid-looking boy slowly stood up from his seat.

    He looked at the big boy with bloodshot eyes.

    "Why don''t you rx your arms?"

    "...."

    The big boy could only break out in a cold sweat, unable to say anything.

    ...Puck!

    The next moment, a timid-looking boy quickly charged at him.

    The big boy was stunned, and his arms rxed into a defensive stance.

    The big boy''s arms are untied, revealing a severed wrist, wrapped in a dirty cloth.

    His wrist had been eaten by a Mimic from the random box given to him by the fairy earlier.

    The timid-looking boy grabbed therger boy''s wrist and shook it, grinding his teeth.

    "What do you think, maybe back in school, but here and now, I''m stronger than you. Do you still want to do this in order of strength?"

    "Kwaaagh! Are you crazy! Don''t you know that I''m a member of the aristocratic faction!? If I say one word to my father, I can put you out of business!"

    "Try to fold it somewhere. To do that, you have to get out of this fucking tower, right? Try it! huh?"

    With their usual tantrums, the two boys began to argue and fight.

    Actually, it wasn''t really a fight, but more of a one-sided beating of the boy with the severed wrist.

    Was it because he picked up a few red candies? The timid-looking boy was throwing some serious punches.

    At that time, Gordon mediated between the two.

    "Okay, that''s enough, now is not the time for us to fight, if we don''t stop it, the atmosphere can get out of control."

    When Gordon, a senior member of the aristocratic faction, said this, the timid-looking student stepped back with a grunt.

    The big man with the severed wrist also hurriedly crawled back on three legs.

    His groin was already yellow and wet.

    There were many more toe.

    "I think we should start with the weakest first."

    "Send out the ones who can''t study first! Are you going to waste their brains?"

    "Somewhere in the lower grades, people are fooling around! We need to make sacrifices starting with the lower grades!"

    "It''s not fair to pick by grade! I''m three years older than you! Do it by age! Shouldn''t the elderly be favored?"

    "Damn it! Age is a free pass, how do you expect me to treat you with it? I''m not kneeling down, but let''s do it in order of ss!"

    "Money! Why don''t we do it in order of money! It''s simple!"

    "How about friends? Let''s sacrifice the friendless first! Friendship vote! Friendship vote!"

    "Ba, you know we''re a great family when we go outside, don''t you? The world is all about connections~ Let''s think about it when we leave the tower~ The guys who sacrifice for me, I''ll make sure to remember their real faces so I don''t forget themter...."

    As the atmosphere heats up, the guilt evaporates faster and faster.

    The students, who were initially zed over with guilt, were now ring and drooling, as if they were bargaining in a meat market.

    "Do it like intelligent people, vote! Vote!"

    "Fine! Let''s do it democratically!"

    "Majority rule!"

    "Yes, Let''s do this until there is unanimous agreement!"

    Intellectually, democratically, and through discussion, like the students of the Colosseo Academy, the most prestigious university in the empire.

    As a result. It was decided that one student would be daylily food tomorrow.

    A first-year student whose face and name you can barely remember.

    He can''t study, he can''t y sports, he''s not particrly good-looking, and he has no friends to protest on his behalf.

    He cried out a cry, or rather, a protest that was close to a scream.

    "It''s unfair that I was chosen!"

    "Shut up! It was a majority vote! You were unanimously chosen!"

    "You guys colluded amongst your friends! I''m an underdog, and I don''t have any friends to back me up!"

    The faces of the other students stiffened as the would-be ''prey'' shouted desperately.

    "Hey, are you bragging about having no friends?"

    "Connections is a skill, don''t you know?"

    "What''s the point of being alive if you''re useless? What good can you do to themunity?"

    "...shut up. If we trick you right here and now, make a fool out of you, and throw it to that flower tomorrow. What are you going to do?"

    "Just go quietly since you were chosen. We canpensate your familyter when we leave the tower. I''ll tell them you were a hero. Huh?"

    Threats and appeasement follow at every turn.

    Those who weren''t chosen desperately tried to build a wall to secure their safety.

    "Ughhhh... no. I have parents at home... and siblings...."

    The boy who was chosen to be fed began to sob.

    And everyone who saw his tears looked away, if only for a moment.

    They didn''t want to admit it. That this boy, reduced to a mere "prey," is also someone''s precious child and brother.

    But what can they do? If others don''t die, I will die. This is a ce like that.

    ...No, maybe the world outside the tower was actually like this, too.

    Everyone was nauseated almost simultaneously.

    In the midst of the great contradictions and confusion, the atmosphere was bing increasingly distorted.

    Just then.

    "Enough."

    The bubbling madness was instantly quelled.

    A hand grabbed the attention of all the students.

    "...I will be the prey."

    The footsteps pushed their way through the crowd.

    ck hair, red eyes, expressionless expression that makes it impossible to read what he''s thinking.

    It was Vikir.

 Chapter 315: Surplus Man (4)

    <h4>Chapter 315: Surplus Man (4)</h4>

    "...I will be the prey."

    A hand grabbed everyone''s attention.

    Vikir stepped to the front of the ss.

    His nonchnt face looks like it belongs to someone who''s volunteering to clean their room or wash the dishes for the day.

    ....

    The room fell silent.

    There was hardly anyone here who didn''t recognize Vikir''s face.

    The talk of the town, the first-year super-rookie.

    Whether it''s his sports, his grades, his skills, or his looks, he''s quite a celebrity in many ways.

    The auction''s simultaneous outbidding of the Aristocrat faction and the Baron faction was rumored among the professors.

    Gordon, a third-year student in the aristocratic faction, asked in a nervous voice.

    "Are you... going to be the sacrifice of that cannibalistic flower?"

    "Yes."

    "Don''t you know what a sacrifice is? I mean, aren''t you a little out of it? Did you hit your head on something when you fell?"

    They didn''t see Vikir hunting Cerberus with a pack of hellhounds.

    But they did know that Vikir was much stronger than most upperssmen, so they found the situation puzzling.

    But Vikir merely repeated the same words in an indifferent tone.

    "I will be the prey. If you don''t like it, find another volunteer."

    With that, Vikir turned his head to look at the students lined up on either side of Gordon.

    Although they were covered in blood and sweat, they were all expensive clothes that clearly looked like they were luxury goods.

    They were probably students of the aristocratic faction.

    Everyone who caught Vikir''s gaze cowered and hid behind.

    "No members of this group, is that it?"

    At Vikir''s question, Gordon and the other students from the Aristocrats averted their gaze.

    Vikir continued nonchntly.

    "You guys, weren''t you nning to hunt down other students and use them as fertilizer for Daylily anyway?"

    The eyes of all the students widened to the point of tearing.

    Vikir was convinced that the Aristocratic students were plotting an evil n because of what he heard behind the scenes.

    ''That cannibalistic flower, will it eat and sleep even if we throw a corpse at it?''

    ''I''m sure it will, it didn''t say it only eats the living.''

    ''... That''s good, then. It will make things easier.''

    ''I''m thinking the same thing, maybe even easier than the previous stage?''

    However, the students of the baron faction turn white when they hear Vikir''s words.

    "What, what are you talking about, are you crazy! How could anyone think such a thing!"

    "Isn''t it?"

    "Of course not!"

    "...."

    "It''s true, believe me!"

    Gordon eximed in frustration.

    But it was toote.

    The other students, who had heard Vikir''s warning, slowly began to distance themselves from the aristocrats.

    No longer could they dominate the atmosphere as they had before.

    Gordon scratched his head as he watched the students slowly avoid him.

    "Damn it! So what should I do! I came here because I wanted to say something, but you!"

    "I told you at the beginning, I''m going to be the prey."

    "Then just get eaten! Do it!"

    "It will still be like that ....But"

    Vikir paused and looked back at everyone.

    "I''m just trying to tell you how no one will die after me."

    With those words, everyone''s eyes locked on Vikir again.

    Every single one of them looked desperate.

    Gordon shuffled toward Vikir, ready to drop to his knees at any moment.

    "What? Well, is there a way to do that? What? If you changed your mind and decided to lie...."

    But Vikir didn''t let Gordon finish his sentence.

    "Get it."

    "...what?"

    Gordon said, and then looked nk for a moment.

    Vikir spoke again.

    "I will catch the Daylily of Blood Tree."

    The faces of the students around him went nk.

    "What the hell, crazy...!"

    "Didn''t you see the video the fairy showed us earlier...!"

    "Oh, no. We just wasted our time...!"

    Just when theints were about to explode.

    ...Boom!

    A terrifying st of sound ripped through everyone''s eardrums.

    Vikir raised his fist and mmed it into the wall of the clock tower.

    Crack, crack, crack! rumble!

    The diagonal crack stretched out andpletely copsed one of the stone pirs of the clock tower, causing the bridge piers beyond it to copse one after another.

    "...."

    All the students'' jaws dropped.

    Vikir spoke again.

    "The Daylily of Blood Tree will be caught by me alone tomorrow."

    "...."

    There was nothing to say to that. The students just stood there, mouths agape, listening to his words.

    Then Vikir crossed his arms.

    "But there are some things that are essential to the process."

    "...What, what are they?"

    Gordon asked, and Vikir answered him nonchntly.

    "Random boxes. Candy."

    "...!"

    "I need all of yours."

    At that, the students looked at each other''s faces.

    Those who had opened their random boxes were looking at the candy and other assorted items inside, while the unopened ones hesitated, holding the random box itself.

    Gordon was no different. As he held up the 15 strange candies from the random box, he thought to himself.

    ''If I had known, I would have eaten them all as soon as I got them.''

    But Vikir knew what they were thinking.

    "From now on, people who eat candy will be excluded from transactions. Even people who have nothing to offer."

    "What do you mean, exclude?"

    "Think about it yourself. I have a n."

    That made everyone bite their lips.

    In truth, there wasn''t much to think about.

    In the first ce, the random boxes and the items they contained were given to them in order to survive the Daylily of Blood Tree.

    As long as they could save their lives by consuming them, they would stay in business.

    But the human heart is a tricky thing.

    It''s not easy to give up what you have for themon good.

    Gordon, the leader, is hesitant, but the other students are not.

    Vikir turned to Gordon, who was hesitating, and to the aristocratic students beside him.

    "Earlier, you looked at me like you could never lose your people. Was it a rtionship so cheap that you couldn''t even pay for the random box?"

    "No, of course not! I''m not doing this because I feel like the random box is a waste! I''m doing this because I''m afraid you''re going to run off with our random box and candy, and I''m wary of that!"

    "You might think so, then, but don''t give them to me yet, and keep them. Tomorrow, when the Daylily wakes up, I will go and stand in front of it, and stack them some distance away. You guys stand a little further away."

    It''s a way for them to have a backup n if it looks like the agreement is going to be broken.

    If Vikir betrays, the students can run forward and retrieve the random box.

    If they do, Vikir can use his quick feet and strength to run the other way.

    "I will not betray you. As long as the number of random boxes and candies are kept."

    "...Hmm. But does it have to be random boxes and candy? Can''t it be something like money for leaving the tower, or an unconditional offer of a good job?"

    "No. It has to be random boxes and candy. All other items as well."

    Even the students here know that the promises outside the tower are empty.

    Just when everyone was about to give up.

    "Stay here, Vikir."

    Grenouille was the first to step forward.

    His eyes were sparkling for some reason.

    "If you ask for it, I''ll give it to you. We''re ''friends''. We trust each other!"

    Vikir paused for a moment.

    Then he took the random box from Grenouille''s hand.

    And when he opened it.

    ...snap!

    The random box didn''t explode, but instead bit into Vikir''s wrist.

    Mimic. Grenouille''s random box was a ''flop'', but that''s to be expected when you can''t tell anything by looking at it.

    The blood drained from Grenouille''s face.

    "Aaahhhhhhhh! Oh, my God! Are you okay, Vikir? Oh, no! I didn''t know! Gee, I swear, I didn''t know, uhh...! No, that''s not what''s important right now, the medicine, the medicine, now!"

    But Vikir just smirked.

    "Calm down."

    Vikir squeezed the arm that had been bitten by Mimic.

    And then.

    Pow!

    With his other hand, he struck the Mimic''s stomach and crushed it.

    When the box-shaped exoskeleton breaks, tongues, intestines, and teeth pour out together with blood.

    There was not a single wound on Vikir''s wrist when he was taken out of the Mimic.

    "I guess I''ll just have to take your heart."

    "...."

    Grenouille gives him a nk look, then a sparkling gaze.

    "As expected, my friend!"

    All the students in the room stuck out their tongues in disbelief.

    They had just watched a pretty strong third-year student lose his wrist to Mimic so futilely just moments ago.

    Besides, Vikir was still not finished with his demands.

    "And one more thing. There''s something I need you to hand over."

    "...What the hell is it?"

    "This is the most important thing."

    Vikir opened his mouth to make his final demand.

    "I need one human body."

    "...!"

    Everyone''splexion changed drastically, including Gordon''s.

    This wasn''t like the random boxes and candy he''d been asked for earlier.

    "What, what are you talking about? Why do you want a human body? You''re the one who''s going to make sure there''s no body in the first ce."

    "The only time I need a human body is the beginning. Right now, the Daylily of Blood Tree is overly skinny and has very hard skin, it''s slowed down because of that, but it''s also difficult for me to attack."

    Grenouille had seen Vikir cut through the flesh of the Daylily of Blood Tree with painstaking precision.

    The other students had also seen hellhounds annihted by the vines of the Daylily of Blood Tree without leaving a single living soul, so they all had no choice but to agree with Vikir.

    Finally, Gordon said bluntly.

    "Shit. So, whose body are you going to sacrifice?"

    In the end, it came down to the same old discussion.

    Who would die?

    The student who fails?

    The student who doesn''t have enough money?

    The student who doesn''t have many friends?

    Or those who are simply powerless?

    With all these questions in front of him, Vikir drew his sword once again.

    "It''s up to me to decide."

    At that moment.

    ...Whirr! Kwa-kwa-kwa-kwak!

    The stone pirs that Vikir had just smashed with the force of his fist immediately copsed.

    Seeing this, the students realized once again that Vikir was a hundred times weaker inside the tower.

    Several times they denied the reality of the situation, only to have the inevitable conclusione out of their mouths.

    "...Are you a swordmaster?"

 Chapter 316: Surplus Man (5)

    <h4>Chapter 316: Surplus Man (5)</h4>

    gi gig u geu geu geug �C

    A sound unpleasant to hear, as something hard and dried twisted.

    Exactly 24 hourster, the giant cannibal flower awoke.

    <Daylily of Blood Tree>

    Danger Rating: S

    Size: ?

    Found in: Deep in the pr hell, ''Inessible Zone (Blood Swamp, Flesh-sttered Zone of Area 4)''

    �C Also known as ''Blood Swamp Daylily'' or ''Blood Swamp Nightmare''

    A mysterious nt that floats on the churning waters of the Bloodswamp, at the mouth of the ''Blood Lake'' in the depths of Hell.

    Even in the blood swamp, where everything sinks because there is no buoyancy, you can somehow see them floating.

    It is the strongest and most ferocious of all the creatures that inhabit the Blood Lake, and its endless appetite and gluttony make it an object of fear even to fellow monsters.

    It is said that a single Daylily, sprouting from a single seed of this nt, once grew sorge that it brought humanity to the brink of destruction.

    A Daylily of considerable size and weight. It would have to be at least several decades old to grow to this size.

    [Oomph, oomph, oomph, oomph!]

    The noise emanating from the Daylily''s mouth resembled the sound of a rusty clockwork being forced to turn, but it was a much louder and more unpleasant groan.

    Thud, thud, thud!

    The ruins around him crumbled as the creature rose to its feet and mmed down on the clock tower.

    All it took was for the sprawling vines and roots to shift slightly to the side.

    [...gigigigig!]

    Daylily moved the vines and roots around hungrily, groping for the ground.

    But there was nothing to touch.

    It must have intentionally raised its body temperature in the cold field to attract prey, but nothing was caught in its trap.

    Fumbling...

    The Daylily stretched out its dried-up root tips and pawed at the ground.

    But the prey had already fled into the distance.

    They''re probably hiding all over the ruins by now.

    [giggle- giggle-]

    Daylily felt more and more hungry the more it moved.

    It couldn''t wait to get into the warm waters of its hometown''ske to warm up and quench its thirst.

    It was so cold and thirsty here.

    Just then.

    ...Pop!

    Something touched the end of the dry root.

    It wasn''t cold concrete or rebar or anything like that.

    Warm and soft leather, chewy and juicy meat inside, and savory and crunchy bones inside.

    But most irresistible of all was the blood inside. Blood, that sweet, refreshing nectar!

    shaking...

    After so much cold and thirst, Daylily had found the perfect treat for its taste buds.

    It''s a different texture than the cold, rotten food it had been reluctantly swallowing.

    The Daylily groped for its prey by the tip of its roots, which trembled with excitement and thrill.

    It felt the tiny sphere that must be the head, the dense brow, through the delicate root tip.

    The roots trailed down the slender neckline that connected the head to the body, licking the smooth cleavage, and the waist and hip lines next to it.

    It climbed back up the straight, outstretched legs and now came to the hands, the only part of the body that looked quite ruggedpared to the rest of the smooth body.

    And down past the hands was a long, hard... this?

    Daylily was just about to decide what this was.

    Tsk-.

    The sensation was abruptly cut off.

    A searing pain shot through the tip of the root.

    [kki-gigigigigig!]

    Daylily suddenly realized.

    The tip of the root had been cut off by a long, hard sword.

    "If you''re awake, you should be moving."

    Vikir muttered in dry tones.

    The Daylily of Blood Tree in front of him casts down a flower that resembles a face.

    The wrinkles of the flower were horribly distorted, and the gaping maw was filled with misshapen teeth that had sprouted out at will.

    Vikir already knew a bit about this grotesque creature.

    "Daylily of Blood Tree. It''s a nt-type monster that lives in the depths of the oil fields. During the Age of Destruction, thekes were overgrown with them, and we had a hard time finding water.

    How many of his friends and men had lost their lives trying to exterminate them.

    So Vikir had a better sense of the situation.

    ''This is the degraded version.''

    It wasn''t just Vikir, but anyone who had lived through the Age of Destruction would have recognized it.

    Daylily of Blood Tree are basically aquatic nts. Aquatic nts don''t thrive in ces without water.

    Only ake filled with nothing but blood, deep in the depths of hell, can sustain this terrifying nt to adulthood.

    ''... If not that, at least a ce full of water.''

    When the war began, the demons brought the seeds of this nt into the human world, and sowed them.

    There were nokes filled with blood in the human world, but there were manykes filled with clear, clean water.

    The Daylily of Blood Tree drank from the waters of thesekes and thrived.

    Although they were smaller than the ones from the maind of Hell that had been fed on blood, they were stillrge and fierce.

    ''However, this one in front of me has been suffering from hunger for a long time.''

    It''s small and dwarfed for a Daylily of Blood Tree. It looks slow and weak, like it hasn''t had blood or water in a long time.

    ... Of course, this was not to be underestimated.

    Qua-kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa-kwak!

    Just like in the video the fairy had shown earlier, this monstrous creature could copse buildings in a radius of a dozen or so meters with a single swing of its vines like a whip!

    No amount of ducking and dodging will save you from being mortally wounded by that attack.

    ''It''s much weaker now that it''s out of the water, but it''s still an impossible monster for students to deal with, which means that....''

    Vikir''s eyes sparkled.

    ''I didn''t ce it there to be captured!''

    As far as Cerberus was concerned, it had been ced there for entertainment purposes, perhaps in the slim hope that someone would show up to catch it.

    But this was no Daylily of Blood Tree.

    The students who had just entered the tower, even if they were a thousand strong, would be no match for this single degraded version.

    They have created an absolute being that cannot be caught at all and cannot be resisted.

    In order to destroy all ethics andws outside the tower and create a state of anomie through antagonism and discord among colleagues, and even cannibalism!

    ...Boom! Quack, quack, quack!

    A gust of wind whipped through Vikir''s back hair.

    The vines of Daylily whipped up again, making the surrounding ruins even more chaotic.

    Destructive enough to warp the entire terrain!

    "Admit it. Give up. As you have deteriorated, so have I."

    Vikir held up his hands.

    Then he turned and started running.

    His destination the meeting ce with the randomized boxes of the 68 survivors!

    ''...Anyone who isn''t an idiot wouldn''t break a promise.''

    Vikir leapt over the rubble of the ruins, dodging the whipping vines.

    Now, beneath the copsed fountain, he could see a ck line.

    It was a long row of 67 random boxes.

    The survivors, including Gordon, had left them behind.

    (Not including Grenouille''s Mimic.)

    ''I''m d there aren''t any idiots.''

    If there had been any, he would have turned on his heel and run for the hills.

    That way, at least thirty people would have died and we''d have gotten through the day unscathed.

    [gigig! geugyagyagyag!]

    Vikir doesn''t have much time, as the enraged Daylily has already spread its roots and is moving toward him.

    Vikir hurriedly opened all 67 random boxes.

    Puff-puff-puff-puff-!

    Random boxes spit out items with a loud explosion sound.

    Among them, there were as many as five Mimics.

    ''There are a total of 68 random boxes and only 7 mimics, so the demon are still in bad taste.''

    Vikir quickly scanned the items.

    Most of them were junk, not even worth looking at.

    Polished bronze swords, shiny beads, fake potions, shoes with holes in the soles, stinking armor....

    Vikir sifted through the junk, quickly searching for anything worth taking.

    The first thing he picked up were red, green, and blue candies.

    <Vikir>

    -LV: 1 (%)

    -Title: ''Gutter Rat Hunter'', ''Hell''s Dog''

    -Stats.

    Strength: 230 (+30) = 260

    ?Agility: 219 (+10) = 229

    ?Stamina: 244 (+25) = 269

    ?Physical Resistance: 1

    ??: (Locked)

    ??: (Locked)

    By consuming 30 red candies, 10 green candies, and 25 blue candies, Vikir''s strength, agility, and stamina stats have increased significantly.

    ''Definitely, I feel lighter.''

    The power of the stats was amazing. His body suddenly felt like it was boiling over with energy.

    After collecting all the candies, Vikir picked up the rest of the misceneous items.

    ''These two are useful.''

    From the pile of junk, only two items stood out to Vikir.

    -<Sunflower Seed Shrew''s Tooth Hoe> / Farming Tools / D

    A hoe made from the teeth of arge shrew.

    If nothing else, it''s useful for digging up nt seeds.

    -<Oil Paper Pouch> / Pouch / D

    A pouch that is quite tough and does not dissolve well in water.

    It''s good for holding things because it keeps moisture out.

    Once Vikir had packed these, he looked into the pile onest time.

    At first nce, there was nothing left to carry.

    Vikir was just about to turn around.

    "...hmm?"

    For a moment, Vikir thought he must be looking at the wrong thing.

    However, the seasoned veteran knew well that if he ignore this type of sense in an urgent situation, he will end up hitting the ground and regretting itter.

    Vikir looked through the junk once more.

    ...Shiny!

    Something silvery and round was buried among the trash.

    A candy. Silver glowing candy.

    "...!"

    Vikir''s fingertips trembled for a moment.

    He''d quickly dismissed all the other colored items, expecting to find only red, green, and blue candy, but... hadn''t expected to find something like this.

    Even as the Daylily, mad with hunger, rushed in from behind, destroying everything in its path, Vikir''s gaze remained fixed on the silver candy in his palm.

    "...Heh. I guess I used up all my luck early on."

    Before regression, the great heroes from the tower reminisced about this silver candy, filled with great regret, longing, and yearning.

    A treasure that still captivates the hearts of so many heroes, even after so much time has passed since they left the tower.

    -<Strange Candy> / Reflexes / Silver

    A candy that increases the Reflexes stat by 1.

    Tastes fishy.

    +1 Reflexes

    Vikir never thought he''d find this hidden piece in a random box on the third floor of the tower, which was said not to fall out even after all the monsters in the depths of the tower were captured.

 Chapter 317: Surplus Man (6)

    <h4>Chapter 317: Surplus Man (6)</h4>

    [G-Gigikigeek!]

    Daylily''s hunger had reached its limit.

    It was rampaging with its mouth so wide open that the flower''s head looked like it had been snapped in half.

    In a mouth as deep as the abyss of hell, misshapen teeth were protruding and eating up rebar and asphalt.

    kwakwang! pusyuug-

    The attacks grew more furious and diverse.

    The focus on cutting and smashing vines of stems and roots has now changed.

    Tsutsutsutsutsu... Paaksak

    The rocks where the roots touched shriveled and dried up, then turned to sand and crumbled.

    ''It sucks the moisture from where it touches, a troublesome ability.''

    Of course, it''s not a particrly moist environment, so it''s more like it''s twisting and squeezing water than sucking it up.

    It''s an inefficient strategy because the amount of energy it expends is greater than the amount of water it gains.

    However.

    swilililig! kwang! pasasag...

    The Daylily continued to extend its roots toward Vikir.

    Snap!

    No blood flowed from the wound where the tip of its root sliced through.

    That''s because a huge amount of blood was taken away in that short moment.

    Also.

    peoeong! pusyug-

    Every time the Daylily''s leaves hit the ground, it made a sound like a giant balloon popping, and a poisonous gas spewed out.

    The shriveled and spread out leaves would burst open upon impact, and the cloud of poisonous gas inside would rise up in the shape of a skull.

    On contact with this gas, the flesh would boil into bubbles and eventually melt away.

    As such, Daylily was the worst biological weapon, armed with a variety of lethal functions.

    ...But.

    "No matter how powerful an attack is, if it doesn''t hit."

    Vikir was retreating backwards, avoiding all the flying whips, dry energy, and poison gas clouds.

    A clearly different movement. This was not a matter of agility or stamina.

    hwiing- kwang! pasasag!

    Dodging sweeping roots with minimal effort, and sweeping away flying debris with a few shakes of the head.

    No need to move much, no need to move fast.

    Time seems to slow down.

    A realm where the time it takes for a small dot approaching from a distance to change into arge dot in front of you feels boring!

    <Vikir>

    -LV: 1 (%)

    -Titles: ''Gutter Rat Hunter'', ''Hell''s Dog''

    -Stats.

    Strength: 260

    ?Agility: 229

    ?Stamina: 269

    ?Physical Resistance: 1

    ??: (Locked)

    ?Reflexes: 0 (+1) = 1

    Reflexes, the most difficult of the "Big Three" stats to obtain outside of the base stats, has blossomed.

    It is a realm of innate talent that is impossible to obtain outside of the Tower.

    Vikir had acquired it.

    ''With this, I have collected five of the six major stats. This is already a feat in the third level of the underground. It can only be said that I was lucky....''

    Even those with heroic potential and luck had already obtained two Hidden Pieces, which were obtained muchter in the tower, deep, deep down.

    Vikir''s steps were getting stronger and stronger.

    Thud.

    Beelzebub, carrying a sticky liquid aura, cut off the dried leaves of the Daylily.

    ''It''s an air sac.''

    What looked like a dried, shriveled leaf was actually a gas sac.

    It was simr to the structure of a water nt, a species of daylily.

    The only difference is that the Daylily of Blood Tree contains a lot of toxic gas in its air sacs.

    pusyug-

    The amount of poisonous gas emitted was not veryrge because it was originally a shriveled air sac.

    The roots and stems that were swung like a whip were also tough enough to not even cut with an aura-coated sword, but since they were dried up and twisted, the range was narrow.

    ''It''s a good thing it''s a degraded version, because if I''d encountered one that lived in the blood swamp where it originated....''

    Who knows, but it would have been just as grueling a fight as the one against Madame Eight-Legged in the past.

    What''s more, the Daylily of Bloodswamp tends to live in colonies, and each individual is capable of exterminating the human race.

    Ake of blood located deep in the abyss of pr hell.

    Vikir had no idea how big the unknown darkness would be, where things like Daylilies of Blood Tree lived together.

    Then.

    [Human. Think about other thingster!]

    Decarabia''s voice warned.

    Vikir snapped to attention and quickly reached out his left hand.

    ...Flick!

    The madame cub''s web clung to the top of the copsed tower.

    Vikir soared high on it, avoiding the Daylily''s roots.

    [Gigig- Kkeugigigig!]

    The Daylily was growing increasingly hungry and could barely hold its head up.

    However, Vikir was also unable tond any effective blows due to the Daylily''s dried and hardened skin.

    Just then.

    [Gigig!?]

    Daylily began to react strangely.

    A delicious smell wafted in from somewhere.

    It smelled of blood and musty flesh.

    It wasn''t a hellhound scent, but a soft, tender, savory scent.

    Yes, this is the smell of human blood and flesh!

    [Gya gya gya gya!]

    Daylily began to move hurriedly.

    The prey that had been annoying earlier also heads towards the ce where the scent is emitting.

    Soon, Daylily is standing in front of arge pit.

    The odor wasing from below.

    A freshly ughtered piece of meaty beneath Daylily.

    Daylily quickly stretched out a vine and probed at the bottom of the pit.

    ...pungdeong! kkeunjeog-

    Something warm and thick is wrapped around the tip of the vine.

    Daylily thought it was right and quickly sucked them up.

    Moment.

    [...giig?]

    Daylily''s head tilted greatly.

    The taste is somehow strange.

    Daylily had been expecting tender, vorful blood and flesh, and the smell was simr, but the taste was nd.

    Daylily lifted the vine and examined its contents.

    It was arge leather sack.

    Expecting to find a human corpse inside, Daylily stopped dead in its tracks.

    The smell was unmistakable: human blood and flesh.

    The weight, too, was just about right, though slightly lighter.

    But.

    The leather sack contained something other than a human corpse.

    chwaaag- hududug- hududug-

    Human blood, flesh, and bones spilled onto the floor.

    But there was no human body in it.

    What was spread on the floor was a considerable amount of blood, as well as saliva, snot, tears, and urine.

    Also, there was hair that had been shaved off, nails from the hands and feet, calluses and dead skin cells removed from the elbows and heels, dirt removed from the entire body, and a significant number of teeth.

    "Is it good?"

    Vikir appeared like a ghost behind Daylily.

    "Quite a bit, when all the byproducts of the human body are collected."

    Vikir opened his mouth to show the teeth he''d pulled from it.

    Of course, it was growing quickly due to the Basilisk''s regenerative ability.

    "Whenever you eat something, your skin bes softer."

    With that, Vikir swung his sword at the Daylily as it sucked the blood from the floor.

    Quack.

    This time it struck.

    The sword pierced the surface of the tentacle and went right through.

    [Gyaaaaagh!]

    As Daylily lifted its heavy flower head and roared, a single bloodshot eyeball could be seen deep in its throat.

    It was blinded by extreme impatience, hunger, and anger.

    "It''s finally been revealed. A vital point."

    Vikir dove into the Daylily''s gaping mouth.

    At the same time, the aura swelled by the increased stats stretched out to the end of Beelzebub.

    In order to inflict a fatal wound in one go, especially at the exact point, stabbing is more effective than cutting.

    And because the magic sword Beelzebub had the shape of an awl, it was optimized to perform this role.

    Narrow but deep. Vikir intended to end the battle with a single fatal blow.

    And then the Daylily chewed him up and swallowed him whole.

    Quaduk-

    Just before the upper and lower jaws forcefully engage, which cannot be the case in a nt.

    Phuuk-

    With all his might, Vikir drove his magic sword, Beelzebub, deep into the Daylily''s throat, right into the center of its eyeball.

    Pizizii!

    The sound of the membrane of the eyeball being torn away and the pupil inside being punctured.

    The long aura prated Daylily''s throat and eyeballs and extended out of the back of her head.

    Udeudeug! udeug!

    nt dietary fibers, which are much stronger than animal muscle fibers, try to crush his entire body.

    Teeth harder than polymer alloys were somehow trying to squeeze the blood from Vikir''s body.

    "If you want blood, I''m willing."

    At the same time, Vikir''s aura thinned and his entire body spewed Madame''s poison.

    The venomous blood trickled down the inside of Daylily''s throat, through its scarred eyeballs.

    [geugig!? geu- gi- gi- gig!]

    Only then did Daylily realize something was wrong.

    But it was toote.

    The awl and aura that pierced the core of life, and Madame''s poison spreading to the veins of the entire body through the wound, had already decided victory or defeat.

    ...Thud!

    The pressure on his body seemed to weaken, and his vision tilted drastically.

    With a slight earthquake, the Blood Tree Daylilyid its massive body on the ground.

    -Diing!

    [''Level 1 Warrior'' Vikir has sessfully hunted the first ''S-ranked Monster Blood Tree Daylily''!]

    [''Impossible'' achievements are rewarded!]

    A loud notification ringing in his ears.

    A mere Level 1 Newbie had defeated an S-ranked monster.

    An achievement that even the tower''s system recognized as ''impossible''.

    One by one, the students who had been watching Vikir''s fight from afar appeared.

    "Wow, that''s amazing..."

    "I can''t believe this strategy actually works."

    "Damn, my teeth are starting to hurt."

    "I don''t have nails... Sheesh, I''m d I''m still alive."

    They were talking about 60 kilograms worth of hair, eyebrows, beards, body hair of all kinds, blood, saliva, dead skin, grime, feces, nails, and teeth.

    Some of the senior students had even cut off their own flesh.

    "Good job."

    Vikir recognized their hard work.

    It couldn''t have been easy to give up 500 grams of flesh each.

    In the end, it was abined effort.

    A grotesque, fleshy creature appeared in front of Vikir.

    The creature twitched its swollen lips and made a fuss.

    [ oh my god ? oh my god ? A new bie fr om the 3rd under ground flo or is tak ing do wn the Blood Tree''s Daylily? Is th is my fir st ti me see ing a sce ne li ke th is ? ]

    The fairy rolled the eyeball that protruded from the center of its lip and looked at Vikir.

    [ Wo uld you li ke a rew ard to celeb rate? Wou ldn''t th at be gr eat? Wo uld you lo ok for ward to it? Wo uld it be a re ally gr eat rew ard ? ]

    With that, the fairy closed its eyes, mumbled something, and brought its hand forward from behind its back.

    In its hand was arge sack.

    Whoosh.

    The fairy flipped the sack over and spilled its contents onto the ground.

    It was a colorful array of glowing candies.

    300 red candies.

    150 blue candies.

    75 green candies.

    That''s a whopping 525 candies.

    There were also other colored candies among them.

    -<Strange Candy> / Levels / Golden

    A candy that increases your level by 1.

    Tastes sweet.

    -Level +1

    A brilliant shine that has never been seen before, and a sweet taste that can be perceived through the nose even without putting it in the mouth.

    There was a golden candy that could be exchanged for 300 regr red, blue, and green candies.

    There were 10 of them!

    525 regr candies and 10 level candies. This was a reward so splendid that any survivor who had endured hardships so far would turn a blind eye.

    In fact, Vikir had a simr reaction.

    "... I can''t believe I can get this here!"

    The joy, the exultation, the exhration, the exhration that would make even the most veteran of veterans tremble at the end of his voice!

    Vikir''s face was even brighter than it had been when he''d gotten the silver candy, and it was clear what a tremendous sense of aplishment he now felt.

    The fairy, too, responded to Vikir''s emotion, spreading its arms wide.

    [ Co me on ? Hurry ? Do you wa nt to ke ep all of th is ? It''s all for you ? ]

    With that, the fairy slowly stepped back, allowing Vikir to devour the pile of candy.

    As soon as Vikir had the candy in his hands, it looked like it would vanish.

    However.

    ...Kwasik!

    Vikir lunges forward and stomps on the pile of candy right in front of him.

    hududug- hudug- deguldeguldegul...

    Red candies, green candies, blue candies, and golden candies scattered in all directions.

    Vikir walked over to the panicked fairy and grabbed onto its body as it tried to run away.

    [ Ke heulg ! ? ]

    The fairy struggled to escape, but to no avail.

    Vikir grabbed the pitifully shitty-looking creature by the hair and jerked it to the side.

    "Where are you going? You have to givepensation."

    What caught Vikir''s gaze sharply was the worn-out sack that was in the fairy''s hand.

    It was the candy bag that had spilled out arge amount of candy just moments ago.

 Chapter 318: Surplus Man (7)

    <h4>Chapter 318: Surplus Man (7)</h4>

    [ Kekek? Why are you doing this? ]

    The fairy shuffled about in a daze.

    Vikir looked down at the puzzled expression on its face, as if it really didn''t understand.

    ''It''s disgusting.''

    Fairy are basically scammers.

    Not only does it try to live off the achievements of the participants in the survivalpetition in the tower, but it also often tries to steal their rewards.

    The mostmon type is called "pingtang". It means embezzlement.

    If you''re a newbie and you''re not getting the rewards you deserve forpleting a tough mission, it''s almost always because these scammers have done something along the way.

    It ismon for them to steal more than 5 out of 10 under the pretext ofmissions and other things, and sometimes they even boldly steal the entire reward.

    The main pattern is to appear in front of the challenger, whose judgment is impaired, immediately after clearing a difficult mission, lure them in with a appropriate reward, and then disguise the real reward as scraps, scraps, by-products, or trash, remove it from the reward list, and retrieve it.

    By rule, the fairy must show the challenger all of the rewards they have earned in full view of the challenger, so they can''t hide them.

    Therefore, the challenger must carefully consider everything one by one.

    Any rewards that the challenger fails to pick out will naturally belong to the fairy.

    ''So, if you see an ultra-rare item like this, you will naturally try to steal it.''

    Vikir grabbed the sack of candy from the fairy''s hand and snatched it away.

    [ ah ah ah ... ]

    The fairy let out a frustrated whimper.

    It will be like that.

    For the sack Vikir now held in his hand was an extremely rare Hidden Piece, one that was rarely found in the tower, and even the fairies had no idea how to obtain it.

    -<Strange Candy Pouch ''Conversion Worm''> /Exchange/S

    Ultra-small bugs that live in the bodies of small creatures. Although it has the shape of a sack, it is actually the egg case of a parasite.

    It does no harm to its host and feeds primarily on ''strange candy''. If it doesn''t consume more than a certain amount of candy on a regr basis, it will die off naturally.

    The amount of excretion is asrge as the amount of food consumed, and the excrement is said to have slightly different properties from the food consumed.

    -Candy Conversion (Special)

    This creature eats 100 candies of the same type and excretes 1 candy of a different color.

    ��The color of the excreted candy is random.

    ''...Pull out.''

    Vikir ripped open the sack. Sure enough, there is a small parasite inside.

    A small creature infected with this parasite has no health problems, but it does have one unusual ability.

    It is the ability to eat candy and wrap candy.

    For example, if Vikir feeds the parasite 100 red candies that increase its strength stat, the parasite will spit out a randomly colored candy.

    It could be a golden candy that increases your level, a silver candy that increases your reflexes, a ck candy that increases your physical resistance, a green candy that increases your agility, or a blue candy that increases your stamina.

    In thetter part of the tower, you''ll find a lot of strange candies, and if you use the worm correctly, you can even turn the mostmon red candy into the most valuable golden candy.

    If you''re lucky.

    ''... Before the regression, Camus got this.''

    Before the regression, Camus was obsessed with getting white candy, which boosted her Magic Resistance stat, from all the candy she got from the Conversion Worms.

    As a result, she had a ridiculous Magic Resistance stat, which allowed her to ignore Mana Surge and break through dangerous limits several times.

    ''But that was also obtained at the end of the journey, on the lowest floor of the tower.''

    Even Vikir himself hadn''t realized he''d aplished such a feat on the third floor.

    Vikir turned his head to look back at the little madam perched on his shoulder.

    "...It''s hard enough to find a small animal you can trust, so I''m d you''re here. I would love to be the host, but my size makes it impossible, so do me a favor."

    [hack-hack-hack-]

    As Vikir stroked her, the little madam rubbed her cheek against his hand to show that she was happy.

    Soon, a harmless parasite clung to her body. It settled under her chin.

    She scratched at it for a while, but then forgot about it, as if it hadn''t happened.

    It seems to have no effect on the host, as the description says.

    "I''ll give you the stats I get in the future."

    The little madam who will eat the stat candy will also grow rapidly.

    Eating and excreting are two different things.

    Vikir turned his head just in case, but the pile of candies behind him had already been collected.

    When the fairy was deprived of the real reward, it seemed like it was in a hurry to retrieve the rest.

    Perhaps that was its entire fortune.

    Still, there were a few candies still scattered about, as if it had been done in a hurry.

    Vikir deliberately targeted them, kicking them as hard as he could.

    "You should be grateful even if it''s just a crumb."

    Vikir picked up the candies, which were embedded in various parts of the Daylily''s body.

    The fact that the daylily''s mouth had oddly shaped jagged teeth was a great help in this case.

    Once he retrieved the candies that were stuck between his teeth, he had quite a collection.

    15 red candies, 6 green candies, and 11 blue candies.

    There were no golden candies.

    Since they''re so precious, it seems like they''re the first to go.

    ...Poof!

    Vikir pierced the Daylily''s body with the sword of Beelzebub.

    After a long climb through the popped eyeballs, he could finally see out through the hole in the back of the Daylily''s flower.

    When Vikir emerged, covered in all sorts of nectar, there were gasps all around.

    "Oh my God, you were alive!"

    "We caught a cannibal flower! We caught an S-ss monster!"

    "And with a body weakened 100 times!"

    "What the hell is he doing, that guy...."

    All the students of Colosseo Academy were shouting with joy.

    However, none of them got close to Vikir.

    The hound, who had just finished a bloody battle, hadn''t quite gotten the hang of his vicious aura yet.

    Only one.

    "Vi, Vikir, use this ragged towel, I found it in the ruins! Ah, this is a scented oil, but you can use it to wash away dirt...."

    Only Grenouille woulde up to Vikir and tend to his needs.

    But Vikir didn''t mind the stares.

    The first thing Vikir did when he stepped out of the Daylily was to grab two items.

    -<Sunflower Seed Shrew''s Tooth Hoe> / Farming Tools / D

    A hoe made from the teeth of arge shrew.

    If nothing else, it''s useful for digging up nt seeds.

    -<Oil Paper Pouch> / Pouch / D

    A pouch that is quite tough and does not dissolve well in water.

    It''s good for holding things because it keeps moisture out.

    Vikir picked up a hoe made from a shrew''s teeth and climbed up to the flower at the head of the Daylily.

    Sure enough, the center of the flower, which was supposed to be just ordinary, was densely packed with sharp seeds.

    The seeds were incredibly tough and hard, and he dug them out one by one with his hoe.

    ... thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack!

    The seeds didn''t fall apart under Vikir''s aura and sword blows, but they came out with rtive ease with the hoe made of the shrew''s teeth.

    As soon as Vikir extracted the seeds, he stored them in an oil paper sack that did not dissolve well in water.

    The paper sack repels moisture, so the seeds will not absorb moisture and germinate.

    Looking at the silent figure, the students felt a chill run down their spines.

    "Is it really possible for a level 1... to capture an S-ss monster with a body weakened by 100 times?"

    "Then how strong were you before you entered the tower?"

    "I''m saying he was at least a Swordmaster... Is that possible at his age?"

    "You know that with your own eyes."

    "So you''ve been hiding your power all this time? Why?"

    "I don''t know. How can we know what a master is really like?"

    A group of chickens and a crane (Ⱥ�aһ�Q). Vikir didn''t pay any attention to the clucking of the many chickens.

    Just then.

    The fairy they thought had disappeared reappeared.

    This time, the fairy seemed to be angry.

    [Is th is a miss ion con trol ? Are the re 68 surviv ors ? Are th ey all go ing to st ay ali ve for fr ee ? ]

    Perhaps it''s embarrassed and annoyed that it was caught trying to scam Vikir.

    At the same time, a status window pops up to inform you that the mission isplete.

    <Mission> �C Survive 1~68 days in the ruins!

    *Avoid the Daylily of Blood Tree!

    Since the Daylily of Blood Tree is dead, it''s easy to survive for 68 days by gnawing on the corpse of this giant nt.

    Knowing this, the fairy simply forced the mission to end.

    [ Wo n''t I get in trou ble if I go on li ke th is ? Is the re a slig htly mo re challeng ing miss ion wait ing for you on the next flo or ? ]

    Having finished speaking, the fairy snapped its fingers in the air.

    Then a rope-like thing suddenly twitched down from the sky.

    [Wo uld yo u li ke me to he lp you get to the ne xt flo or as quick ly as possib le, or do you thi nk we sho uld let so me of the peo ple who don''t deser ve to sur vive the fi re do wn a litt le bit ?]

    The fairy tugs at the rope from the sky.

    ...kuleuleuleuleug! cheolsseog!

    A strong current of water rushed down from the other side of the ruins, as if a toilet lever had been pulled.

    "Whoa, whoa, whoaaa! What is this!"

    "It''s a tsunami! Everyone run!"

    "Over there! The gate to the lower level is open over there!"

    "Huh! It''s small! It''s only for one person!"

    "Quick! Quick! Quick! Quick! Quick!"

    Students ran like crazy to avoid the approaching tsunami, sweeping away everything in the distance.

    The students ran frantically to escape the oing tsunami that was sweeping everything away in the distance.

    Looks like everyone will be swept away when they get downstairs.

    [ So good bye ? ]

    With the fairy''s voice ringing in their ears, all 68 survivors leapt through the gate.

    It was a leap to the fourth floor.

 Chapter 319: Underdogma (1)

    <h4>Chapter 319: Underdogma (1)</h4>

    -Ding!

    [You have left the 3rd underground level ''Familiar Land'']

    [Entering the ''Ind in the ck Sea'' on the 4th underground level]

    The Imperial Capital area on the third floor of the underground is getting darker and darker.

    Even the huge tsunami that had drenched them up to their toes could no longer follow.

    All 68 survivors scattered through the one-person gate.

    ...And Vikir opened his eyes to find himself on the fourth level of the underground world.

    "Hmm. An ocean."

    Vikir swept the dry sand from his face.

    A moist sea breeze blew in.

    He was on an ind in the middle of a vast, distant sea.

    It looked like an earthen mound rising out of the sea.

    Bare dead trees appear and disappear like bones in the gray fog.

    with a ssh-

    Vikir went to the beach and dipped his hands in the water.

    The water was a murky color throughout.

    He submerges his hands up to his elbows and soon loses sight of the backs of his hands.

    The water had almost no buoyancy, so even hair and the hem of his clothes didn''t float to the surface.

    Ssh, ssh, ssh

    He waves his hand around, and his movements be extremely sluggish.

    The water itself also felt much heavier than normal water.

    "... Is this what you call ''ck water''?"

    Vikir nods.

    An ocean somewhere at the end of the world, a very distant ocean.

    The waters there are said to be ck and heavy and float nothing.

    Anything that falls into this ck water, thick and heavy as molten lead, will not float and will sink.

    That''s why it''s a taboo area for sailors, a ce they must never enter.

    "Well. A ship that''s sailing fine will suddenly sink for no reason."

    He looked up to see a fierce windstorm raging on the ck horizon.

    A storm that seemed to circle the ind and trap it.

    Vikir shook off the salt water and headed back to the beach.

    He walked through the ck sand and back into the forest of old growth trees, where he could now see white soil.

    "This is mycelium."

    Between the grains and grains of dirt are white threads, sticky as blue cheese.

    Half the ind is ck sand, the other half white.

    It was a strange ecosystem. As if it had been plucked from a different world and stitched together.

    "...The soil dries up, the trees die. The result of two differentndscapes being forced together."

    It''s obvious who created this bizarre world.

    [Amdusias is a worldview absorber].

    Decarabia on his chest opened his mouth.

    [He wanders the world, plucking out bits and pieces of the world he likes and storing them in the Abyss, which leads to a variety of different raggedy spaces, this one among them].

    It certainly made sense when I thought of the Colosseo Academy or the Imperial Capital from above.

    "So what happens to the creatures that lived there when a part of the world is absorbed?"

    [They are dragged along with it, to the position of challengers to the tower].

    This means that there may be previous guests who entered this tower before Vikir.

    Whether they were human or monster.

    Then.

    "...!"

    Vikir spotted something strange near the center of the ind.

    It was arge tree, towering in the center of a ck and white world where everything else had dried up.

    "The roots of the Hell Tree."

    Rising from the ground, it was a giant twisted thing, with no branches, no trunk, no leaves.

    Perhaps it had sprouted from the main body of the Hell Tree, lost its way, and sprouted here.

    Vikir climbed up the roots of the tree.

    After climbing up the ck, hard bark for a while, he saw a hollow.

    Blood-red sap oozed from it, forming a puddle.

    Vikir dipped a finger into it and tasted it.

    "This is edible."

    The taste was faintly sweet.

    Though the sap was watery from the tip of the twig, and the quantity was small, it was enough to sustain a man.

    In the memoirs of the great heroes he''d read before his regression, there were numerous references to survival by drinking the sap from the roots of the Hell Tree, so it was probably safe to consume.

    Vikir stuck his head in the hole and sucked the sap down. He felt like a bug, but that doesn''t matter when ites to survival.

    The liquid was just sweet and nd enough to moisten Vikir''s parched throat.

    His guts, which had been parched, were now moist and taut.

    But.

    " ... is all I need."

    Vikir drank enough and pulled his mouth away from the sap.

    There was still quite a bit of fluid left in his muzzle, dripping, but Vikir didn''t touch it anymore.

    Decarabia said.

    [Well thought out, human. There is only a certain amount of sap that can be drunk from a Hell Tree at a time, and to exceed it is to be turned into a demon].

    "I know."

    Vikir was justing down from the tree roots.

    "Hey, what are you!"

    A sharp cry came from below.

    A few students were casting wary nces in the direction of the hill in the distance.

    The faces he hadn''t seen on the third floor of the underground.

    But they were all students of the same Colosseo Academy, so they were all familiar.

    They continued to shout at Vikir.

    "You drank that sap on your own ord!"

    "This time it was our turn!"

    "He came from somewhere and stole ours!"

    They seemed to havended on this floor before Vikir.

    Normally, Vikir should havended here after spending more than 68 days, but the fairy''s improvised end to the mission seemed to have blended in with the others.

    ''Hmph. That means they cleared the mission on the third underground floor before me.''

    I guess that''s possible, since the concept of time in the tower is different for each floor.

    Vikir nced back at the students below.

    Of course, they weren''t the only ones.

    "What is it? What''s going on?"

    "Eh? There''s a new guy here."

    "Who''s here? Are they from the barons or the aristocracy?"

    One by one, the students appeared over the hill.

    All of them are skinny and have bloodshot eyes.

    They must have been poisoned by the Daylily of Blood Tree on the third floor of the Tower.

    Then, one of the students, who seems to be the leader, steps forward.

    "I am Dogma, a third-year student in the Colosseo Academy Hot department. I''m the vice president of the student council. I''m sure you recognize my face."

    It was a line that felt oddly ttering.

    Of course Vikir knew his face and name.

    ''Dogma. Commoner. From the underdog city. Third year in the Hot department, top of his ss. The one who lost to Dolores in the finals.''

    Vikir is a male student who has a significant inferiorityplex about hismoner origins, and has a tremendouspetitive spirit and admiration for Dolores, who is the student council president, ss president, andes from a prestigious family.

    Dogma turned to Vikir and said.

    "I know who you are. You''re Vikir, a first-year in the Cold Department, and apparently you''ve joined ''our floor''te."

    He continued in a high-pressure tone, as if the entire floor belonged to them.

    "There are rules here, and they are to be followed in a fixed time frame, as the sap in the nd is limited. You broke that rule."

    "...Who made that rule?"

    Vikir asked, and Dogma spoke as if it were obvious.

    "We, the Commoners."

    "...The Commoners?"

    Vikir cocked his head.

    There are three factions at Colosseo Academy.

    The official one, the Student Council, and the unofficial ones, the Aristocrats and Barons.

    But there was no organization called the Commoners. There''s no way a faction could be formed on the subject ofmoners in the first ce.

    ''I see, it''s a new idea in the tower.''

    The world outside is ruled by the rich and powerful. The aristocracy, the royalty, the elite.

    It''s a system that has been in ce for eons, and it''s increasingly seen as impossible to move between sses.

    Although there have been extreme cases, such as the 47 Riots, all such attempts have been brutally andpletely suppressed.

    In other words, beings from the lower tiers could never ascend to the upper tiers.

    "...But this ce is different."

    Dogma smirked.

    The logic of the forces that governed the rest of the world, the system that seemed eternal, had no power here.

    Nothing but zero base. A world where everything was perfectly fair.

    Rich, beautiful, handsome, high status, educated, strong, powerful, all the criteria that gave you an edge in the world... revert to zero, a level starting point.

    Total equality of opportunity. A world where anyone can rise to the top if they try hard enough.

    The low status you''ve been carrying since birth, your ugly looks, your weak body, yourck of talent, your poor family... �C all of these things can be overturned in an instant.

    You have the first andst chance to rise above the things that have always looked down on you!

    "We''ve been disadvantaged since birth by the original sin of having poor, powerlessmoner parents. But what about now? It''s all about levels and stats, and honest rewards for hard work, and now wemoners have a chance!"

    Dogma spread his arms around him.

    The twenty or so people gathered were allmoners.

    Dogma held out his hand to Vikir, his voice strangely eager.

    "You''re amoner, too, I know, and it''s been a long timeing."

    "...."

    "So was I. Aristocrats and Barons can''t stand it when amoner does something well. Even though I never got to be the valedictorian because of that bitch Dolores, I have never missed out on being the runner-up, and by my third year, I was vice president of the student council, and I''ve endured countless stares and humiliations along the way."

    "...."

    "Yes. Even if you don''t say it, I know everything. Are you the one who ruined the aristocracy and the barons faction at the auction? I''ve been paying attention to you since then. I always thought it was a pity that these idiots who only sat there because they had a good rtionship with their parents were ndering you. I wanted to help in my own way, but at that time, it was too much for me to think about myself. But now it''s different!"

    "...."

    "I can help you, Vikir. Let''s hold hands. How long will you continue to bleed under the exploitative structures created by those before you?"

    All the students around him nod, their eyes moisturized by Dogma''s speech.

    There was an unseasonably warm atmosphere on the ind.

    "...What about the rest of the survivors?"

    Until Vikir sshed me with cold water.

    At least 50 people must have survived the fall from the second floor to the third.

    Those lucky enough to escape the hellhounds would have been faced with a Daylily of Blood Tree and forced to make a choice.

    And the twenty or somoners gathered here are those who survived that choice.

    Vikir asked again.

    "What did you do with your nonmoner ssmates?"

    Dogma replied.

    "That''s obvious, you too would have traveled through the third level of the underground. They all became prey."

    "Of whom?"

    "...."

    Dogma didn''t answer Vikir''s repeated questions, but merely smirked.

    "Don''t be too hard on yourself. This is and of reversed hierarchies, and it''s fitting for the fate of nobles who are no better than dogs and pigs."

    Soon, the students split into left and right, following Dogma''s gesture.

    Clink, clink, clink!

    Several students dragged chains they had apparently picked up from the ruins.

    Then, several humans appeared from beyond the pile of dried ck fire.

    Dog cors around their necks, long chain leashes, and signs of beatings and abuse all over their faces and bodies.

    "...."

    Vikir squinted.

    The faces were all familiar.

 Chapter 320: Underdogma (2)

    <h4>Chapter 320: Underdogma (2)</h4>

    Dogma, a third-year student at Colosseo Academy, Vice President of the Student Council.

    ...No, Dogma, now the leader of themoner faction.

    He took the long stick he had gotten from the random box and climbed up the vine.

    He sucked out the sap umted deep inside with a straw and put it in the bottle he had brought with him.

    As he descended from the root of the Hell Tree, he was met with loud cheers from the othermoner students.

    Dogma poured the sap from the jar into a rain barrel.

    "It''s a little watery, but we''ll all have to share, right?"

    Dogma smirked, and the other students all smiled and nodded in agreement.

    However, the warm atmosphere belongs to themoners. It waspletely theirs alone.

    Surplus humans who were right next to each other, but not sharing any of the warmth.

    They had been nobles not so long ago.

    Chained like ves, they crawled across the floor in chains, picking up scraps of wood, guarding the campfire and sweeping up the ashes around them.

    They were triplets.

    Highbro Le Baskervilles. Midbro Le Baskervilles. Lowbro Le Baskervilles.

    The trident of Baskerville''s family was here.

    "...."

    "...."

    "...."

    All three were badly beaten.

    Dogma''s shadow loomed over the triplets as theybored in silence.

    "Hey, you guys want some of this?"

    Dogma waved a vial of watered-down sap at them.

    "Then crawl over here like a dog."

    Dogma plopped down on a rotten log and snapped his fingers.

    Highbro was the first to drop to the ground.

    And then, crawling, crawling to the feet of Dogma.

    Pugh-

    Dogma kicks Hive in the face.

    "Why, does it hurt to be kicked in the face by amoner you''ve been treating like a worm?"

    "...."

    "You were lucky enough to be born into Baskerville, and you''ve had a nice,fortable life of eating and wearing nice things, haven''t you?"

    "...."

    "But not me, I was born to penniless, powerless parents, and I''ve spent my entire life on the outside looking in. I''ve been unlucky."

    "...."

    "But since I''ve been in the tower, I''ve been able to use that luck to my advantage, and I can''t believe you''d drop it after the guys next to you died."

    As he spoke, Dogma rolled a single round bead between his fingers.

    Red. It was a strange candy that boosted his strength stat.

    "I got lucky in the tower that I wasn''t born with. I grew stronger by consuming the candy that my friends dropped as they died. It was in this tower that I was reborn, and it taught me the hard way how important it is to start somewhere."

    Afterward, feeling a little, just a little, stronger than the students around him, Dogma worked frantically to keep that initial slight advantage.

    He snatched up any candy in sight. Later, he would spearhead conflicts with themoners who resented the nobles in exchange for a small share of their candy.

    After creating and destroying a few groups, he became overwhelmingly powerful.

    "You aristocrats and barons have always sucked our blood, so we should expect nothing less."

    Dogma continued to kick Highbro in the head and side with his foot.

    "You told me to bring up water every time, didn''t you?"

    "...."

    "You told me to borrow your textbooks and gym clothes, didn''t you?"

    "...."

    "You copied my assignments every time, and you even turned them in before me, using me of giarism. My freshman year was the worst because no one sat next to me on school trips, no one showed me their genealogy during exams, and everyone around me just stared. It was a really bad, lonely time."

    Dogma is in third year. When he was a freshman, Highbro wasn''t even at Colosseo Academy, but no one made a big deal out of it. Because that''s not who he is.

    "Gordon... I should have met that bastard inside this tower. I mean, he''s a douchebag who has nothing other than good parents, so I''m sure he''s already been dumped by hellhound or Daylily. Haha-"

    Suddenly, Gordon''s voice echoes in Dogma''s head.

    ''Wow, Dogma! You''re so good at drawing! Who is this? Oh, Dolores? Hey, Dolores! Look! He drew you! He likes you! Attention, ssmates! Our friend Dogma has a big announcement to make! Well, he drew Dolores, and it''s ...! Wow, the face is simr, but the body is a bit different from the real thing~ Isn''t it a bit exaggerated in certain areas? Aah- It''s a bit of a personal preference... Eh? Hey, what''s the matter? Why are you mad? Why are you so upset? It''s a joke. What are you going to do about the atmosphere? Why are you making a bad person out of a joke?''

    A moment.

    ... Poof!

    Dogma''s eyes lit up.

    He''s capable, he''s ambitious. He was capable and ambitious.

    But he''s always been held back by bad luck.

    But not in this tower.

    ves,moners, bastards, and illegitimate children. Everyone is given equal opportunities.

    The poverty and ipetence of the hated parents no longer hold them back.

    You won''t fail your exams because you studied hard and the son of a rich family who gave a shit to the professor stabbed you in the back, and you won''t get pushed down in the practical evaluation by the son of a nobleman whose body is filled with all kinds of nutrients every time.

    There is no longer any need for the achievements made through hard work to be treated as worthless just because the rankings were recorded low or just a few numbers were pushed out.

    Everything is in your power, and you are rewarded for your efforts, and you are rewarded fairly.

    We are moving away from a society where putting in even a little effort was a punishment, to a world where even if you put in a little effort, you can get a little reward.

    What a wonderful world.

    ''The world of demons is much more fair. It''s the right one for me.''

    Dogma shuddered slightly, delighted by the reality of now.

    Then.

    A gurgle.

    A sound from his stomach caught his attention.

    Of course, it wasn''t Dogma''s stomach.

    It wasing from Highbro''s stomach. No wonder he hadn''t had a sip of water in over three days.

    Dogma smirked.

    "Dude, if you want this, you''re gonna have to beg tter."

    Highbro banged his head on the floor without another word.

    "More."

    At Dogma''s words, Highbro sank deeper and deeper.

    Until his forehead was buried beneath the sand.

    And then.

    "Tsk-"

    Dogma spat into the sap in the jar.

    He looked back and smiled.

    "Friends. My friends here are hungry, too, so let''s all chip in and help them out."

    "Oh? Great!"

    Then themoner students gathered around.

    More than twenty of them spit into the jar.

    "I''ll give you my good stuff. Kaak-cuih!"

    "Kughhhh- cuahhh."

    "You''re giving too much, there won''t be any left, haha- tcuihhh!"

    "Kuaghhh! Cuahhh!"

    As dozens of saliva are added to the jarred sap from the roots of the Hell Tree, bubbles bubble up.

    "If you want to eat, eat. Scum."

    Dogma set it on the ground and walked away, smirking.

    "...."

    "...."

    "...."

    Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro huddled around the jar.

    "...Damn it. Do we have to do this, eat this? I''d rather be dead, and I''ll give my stats to my brothers. At least then we can cut off one of his wrists."

    A boiling sound came from Lowbro''s mouth.

    Midbro was silent, but seemed to agree with his brother.

    But.

    "...."

    Highbro simply gripped the spout of the jar wordlessly.

    And then.

    Gulp- gulp- gulp- gulp- gulp.

    Highbro drank exactly one-third of the bottle and set it down.

    Midbro and Lowbro stared at him wide-eyed, and Highbro replied nonchntly.

    "What do you think I hit you in the head for?"

    His voice chillingly cold.

    Highbro''s eyes flicked to his siblings.

    "If you die, it''s over."

    "...."

    "The idea that heroes risk their lives for their pride is an illusion created by the lesser beings. The real heroes who have made their mark on history haveughed off the humiliation of the present for the sake of the opportunity."

    The Warring States Period.

    Before the continent was united, in the maelstrom of warfare that saw hundreds of countries rise and fall in a single day, many great men and women made their mark on history.

    Among them were those whose personal lives were less than honorable.

    They sold their bodies to old sodomites to raise money for the military, crawled under the crotches of tramps to catch their enemies off guard, changed fathers three times, boiled their sons to satisfy the tastes of their monarchs, ate their enemies'' feces as physicians, tended to their health, and sought out assassination opportunities,

    These men willingly endured humiliation to be the great heroes of history.

    "They say revenge is a fruit best eaten cold. Betterte than never."

    Midbro and Lowbro nodded at Highbro''s words.

    " ...I wish we hadn''t discriminated against or harassed themoners in the first ce."

    "Well, we didn''t, the others did, and we had a pretty harsh childhood too, with some of our brothers dying."

    Midbro and Lowbro swallowed the sap, which was even more phlegmatic.

    They had to eat something like this to survive.

    " ... I suppose this is better than the haggis we used to eat back home."

    "Mmm. I''d have to agree with you on that."

    "Me too."

    And then.

    " ...Well, maybe not."

    An eerie voice came from right behind them.

    The triplets turned to see the underdog they''d thought was gone, staring down at them with bloodshot eyes.

    "I came by just in case, but I didn''t think you''d actually eat it."

    "...."

    "You''re a dangerous bunch. You know how to endure the now for the future...."

    The underdog is also a smart guy. He came from a humble background and served as the vice president of the student council.

    That''s why he knows better.

    ''Some people with good origins have venom as well? That can''t be possible! Venom is the exclusive preserve of underdogs like me! Why do you guys even have this! You already have it all! At least get fat and be stupid! Only then can I despise you and be mentally superior to you!''

    Several thoughts raced through Dogma''s mind.

    A moment.

    "...!"

    Dogma''s eyes met Highbro.

    But Highbro''s gaze was not on Dogma.

    His eyes were on something farther away, something much higher. What could it be?

    The Great Work? A great destiny? Something sublime, born of nobility, something he, amoner, could not even know existed?

    The eye of dreams. The dimensions of virtue. The strength of guts. Different levels of looking at the present and envisioning the future.

    Dogma felt it in Highbro''s dying gaze.

    And he struggled once more.

    ''Trash who has nothing but luck!''

    But Dogma himself knew better.

    He saw himself looking down on the achievements of people from noble families, treating them as nothing more than luck, and even viewing them in a reverse discriminatory way.

    He also realized that the character, grit, guts, discernment, pride, and other intangible assets that some of the noble factions in the tower had disyed... could not be reced by stats.

    ''From here on out, we, the Aristocrats and Barons, will take over.''

    ''Stay out of the way. The stronger ones will lead the way.''

    ''Run, you weaklings! You''re dead! I''ll show you what Noblesse Oblige is!''

    ''...Everyone, avoid me while I be a prey!''

    Several familiar voices rang in Dogma''s ears as he fled from hellhounds, and the Daylily of Blood Tree, their backs glimpsed in his frantic flight.

    "...No, it can''t be, this world is perfectly fair. I will bepensated for everything."

    Dogma drew a well-honed longsword from his waistband.

    He was ready to cut the triplets down at a moment''s notice.

    Seeing the fleshy tip of the sword, Highbro shrugged, as if he had no choice.

    "There is no choice. The only way is for two of us to die and have our stats go to one person."

    " ...There is no choice."

    "...There is no choice."

    Finally, the triplets agreed for the first time in a long time.

    Just then.

    "Hey! What are you!?"

    The shrill cry came from beyond the pile of rotting bushes.

    It came from the guys who had gone to scoop up the sap.

    "Who the hell drank that sap!"

    "This time it was our turn!"

    "Wherever he came from, he stole ours!"

    The sap is the only food and resource on the ind. Touching it is the biggest taboo.

    Even Dogma turned and ran in panic.

    And then.

    "...!"

    "...!"

    "...!"

    The Baskerville triplets'' eyes widened.

    A familiar face. A lord they would follow for the rest of their lives, even if he was their half-brother. A man who, despite his level, stats, and anything else, was strong in his own right.

    "...Where are the rest of the survivors?"

    Vikir had appeared.

 Chapter 321: Underdogma (3)

    <h4>Chapter 321: Underdogma (3)</h4>

    ... Bang!

    Vikir ripped the chains around the necks of Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro with his bare hands.

    The Commoner students, who had been pushed in the chest, look dumbfounded.

    Dogma, the leader of the Commoners, asked.

    "...What are you doing?"

    But Vikir didn''t answer. Only.

    "If you despise the powerful, why do you copy their behavior?"

    "What?"

    "Isn''t it true that you didn''t despise them, but rather admired them?"

    Dogma''s brow furrowed.

    His gaze remained glued to the chains in Vikir''s hands, even as his words hit home.

    ''You must have a pretty high Strength stat to be able to rip through that thick chain with your bare hands. What''s it, four or five? No... I''d say ten, judging by the way you''re acting.''

    With a strength stat of 10, it would be difficult to subdue him even within the lines of Dogma.

    Moreover, there are more than twenty Commoner Faction students on this side!

    "Don''t be stubborn. If you refuse to join hands, I''ll have to cut off your hands."

    Dogma''s words changed the mood of themoner students.

    Unlike the aristocrats and barons student who were only looking to take advantage of each other, themoner students were quite quick and united.

    It''s like the grass roots of a weed are intricately intertwined.

    "...Hmm."

    Seeing this, Vikir''s thoughts were subtle.

    ''It''s all in your power, and you''re rewarded fairly for your efforts. You can get things you weren''t born with. And of reversal, and of opportunity, a new world!''

    Vikir gave a small sigh.

    ''...What are they thinking?''

    He wasn''t quite wrong. At least on the surface.

    In fact, Vikir had met quite a few humans who had changed because they liked the world the demons had created before regression.

    Surprisingly, quite a few people with great talent and potential for Great Heroics joined the Demon Army during the War of Destruction.

    ... However, of the humans who eventually joined the Demon side, there was not a single one who was okay with it.

    The New World, thend of opportunity, thend of reversal, was hell.

    Most of their bodies had been demonized, and they had lost their minds.

    Those who managed to retain their human memories and reason were forced to spend a horrifying amount of time in loneliness, solitude, and pain.

    "Demons are monolithic creatures, devoid of any sense of homogeneity or kinship between individuals. Humans can never understand the culture and way of thinking of this creature, which exists only as an individual before God.''

    Demons basically live alone. No parents, no children, no friends. If they do, they''re just mimicking them, for obvious reasons.

    In other words, from the time they are born into the world, demons are monospecies, and they do not have intimate rtionships with anyone else.

    Diaspora.

    As a tribal and social creature, humans can neither understand nor be understood by demons.

    And a human being who bes a demon with human memories, reason, and thinking is bound to spend the rest of his life in solitude and loneliness, belonging nowhere, without purpose and without hope, drowning in his own life.

    ''... I''ve seen a lot of great heroes on the demonized or demonized human side take their own lives in theirter years, regretting their choices.''

    There''s a short period of time when you can hold on to what you''ve never had and rejoice.

    After that, there''s an eternity of nothingness, anguish, regret, and longing.

    This is why Vikir is forced to take aplex look at Dogma, a short-sighted hegemony of opportunity and reversal.

    Soon, Dogma and themoners under hismand surround Vikir.

    All of them were armed with low-grade weapons that could have been picked out of a random box.

    "Hey, you''re Vikir, I recognize you, you''re amoner, join our side."

    "I don''t care how great you are, you can''t take on all of us."

    "How many stats do you have? I''ll eat the candy that drops when I kill you."

    "Bullshit- the guy who kills him gets to eat it."

    When they''re casually confident of victory.

    "Raise your hand."

    Vikir said briefly.

    All eyes turned to Vikir''s half-raised hand.

    "I am a third-generation reader."

    "...?"

    "There is a single mother, a single father to take care of."

    "...?"

    "I have an old lover or am getting married soon. Or I''m already a newlywed."

    "...?"

    Everyone looked puzzled at Vikir''s continued words.

    Finally, Vikir said something short.

    "If you want to do it, leave it to one side."

    Then,ughter erupted from the crowd ofmoners.

    Dogma chuckled and opened his mouth.

    "Where have you been reading so many fantasy novels that you think you''re cool now?"

    "...."

    "Are you a high level, do you have a big stat, or do you have some rare items? Just looking at your arm, it looks like you''re just bluffing... What do you have the nerve to believe?"

    At that moment, one of themoner students who was wearing special sses spoke up.

    "He''s level 1, I can see it through these ''level peeking sses''! I can''t see his stats, but...."

    Dogma burst outughing.

    "...."

    Vikir silently raised his fist, but no one paid it any mind.

    "Ohhh, you''re going to use your fist?"

    "Akumusherra! Hehehehe-"

    "Hey, little guy. My strength stat is over 5. Won''t your fist just break for nothing?"

    "Forget it. I know you were quite famous outside the tower, but not here."

    Just then.

    ...Boom!

    A loud explosion erupted.

    It was heard not from the ground, but from the roots of the Hell Tree.

    "What, what!"

    All the students looked up in unison.

    There was an incredible sight.

    Sap, the ind''s only food. A cloud of dirt was rising from the hole where it wasing from.

    And emerging from the dust was arge creature, its entire body coated in a ck exoskeleton.

    "... Oh. That''s the ship''s owner Decarabia was talking about."

    Vikir stared at the creature, which was sticking its head into the pool of sap and sucking up everything inside.

    It had the appearance of a human being, covered entirely in the shell of a rhinoceros beetle.

    Insect King. A legendary race that once existed in the distant past.

    However, due to their voracious appetite and warlike nature, they are said to be extinct now.

    To think that such an ancient creature could be found here.

    Meanwhile, there was a stir among themoner students.

    "Hey, that guy is over level 10! I don''t know his stats, but...."

    "If he''s over level 10, that means he''s got a ton of stats. Oh my God!"

    "Ouch! That guy is draining all our sap!"

    "Well, more than that, that... is trying to rip us apart, right?"

    Then, Dogma, the leader, drew his sword.

    "Let''s defend our pool! Follow me, I''ll lead the charge!"

    He was quite impatient. It was the sap pool that allowed him to rule like a king on this tiny ind.

    With that, Dogma drew his sword and charged at Insectking.

    Boom-

    A sharp swinging sh.

    but.

    ... Taaang!

    The sword broke too easily against Insectking''s back armor.

    Ppajik-

    A vein appeared on Insectking''s forehead.

    Pugh-

    A heavy ck fist flew out, knocking Dogma to the ground.

    "Ugh! What kind of strength!"

    "Huh! The sword won''t prate! The skin is so hard!"

    "Help, help! I''m dying!"

    All of themoner students who rushed in after them were cut down by the Insectking.

    An out-of-size monster. Suddenly appearing from above the roots of the tree, Insectking beat the entire group of twenty students to a bloody pulp.

    It was as if he wanted to remind them of the true owner of this sap pool.

    Just then.

    "Step aside. Let''s talk."

    One man stepped forward.

    It was Vikir.

    Dogma gritted his teeth and shouted.

    "You''re crazy! You can''t talk to a monster like that! You won''t understand a word."

    " ...I know themonnguage."

    Vikir''s answer gave Dogma a nk look.

    "Commonnguage? Is there such a thing?"

    "Was he... good at foreignnguages?"

    "No, there''s no way he could talk to a humanoid monster in the first ce...."

    When all the students were looking at him in disbelief.

    Tsk-.

    Vikir stood in front of the Insectking.

    "Let me ask you something."

    [....]

    But the King has no answer.

    He just stretched out his giant arms and tried to blow Vikir away.

    ''Look! It''s just a dog''s death!''

    Dogma bit his lip tightly, knowing that he would soon see Vikir''s limbs disintegrate before his eyes.

    ...However.

    "I guess I''ll need a trantor after all."

    Vikir muttered something short, then pulled a great ''trantor'' out of his pocket.

    It was his fist.

    Boom!

    A single, short punch.

    The effect it created was quite shocking.

    Wududududuk!

    The ck armor that had casually deflected the attacks of themoner students crumbled like a soggy cookie.

    The King''s eyes widened, but he was unable to scream.

    He fell upside down on the floor, spitting out everything in his stomach.

    "Now, do you feel like talking?"

    [...Yes].

    Insectking replies in a very humble voice.

    "Did you know how to speak human?"

    "...That works."

    "No, but you caught that monster with a single punch?"

    Themoner students all have a nk look on their faces.

    Then they remembered what Vikir had said earlier.

    ''If you want to do it, leave it to one side.''

    What would have happened if they had ignored him and charged in?

    Creepy.

    An unseasonable chill runs down everyone''s spine.

    Just then.

    "You idiots, what are you freezing, That''s thest hit!"

    Dogma incited the other students.

    "That bastard must have caught something we let slip, otherwise it doesn''t make sense!"

    One by one, the students nod in agreement.

    "Yeah, right, we''re in the same level 1!"

    "Even if you ate a bunch of strange candies, it wouldn''t make much of a difference."

    "You cowardly bastard, stealing thest hit!"

    "Ooh, we''re not toote, let''s get it!"

    At this point, all the students from the Commoner faction were in motion.

    Insectking who had fallen to the ground, was crouching on the floor, trembling and being hit by numerous kicks.

    Dogma stepped in front of Vikir and said.

    "Hmph. This must have been the boss monster guarding the sap nd, and I suppose you''re not unhappy with the way things turned out, since you stole thest hit from us too."

    The reply came from Vikir''s side.

    "You shameless bastard, you are trying to steal thest hit!"

    "It is!"

    "It is!"

    Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro, they stood guard by Vikir''s side, ring at Dogma.

    But.

    "...I have noints."

    Vikir said briefly, dismissing the triplets.

    Then he turned his gaze upward.

    "...?"

    Dogma looked up to where Vikir was staring.

    "Huh?"

    Hisplexion quickly turned pale.

    And so did the othermoner students, who were assaulting the King on Dogma''s orders.

    Bung bung bung bung-

    A loud pping of wings.

    It was the sound of countless armies of Insectking race descending from the roots of the Hell Tree.

    "...It, it wasn''t a boss mob?"

    The blood drained from Dogma''s face like a tide.

    Themoner students began to tremble, not even daring to resist.

    ...and.

    "Raise your hand."

    Vikir''s voice came again.

    "I am a third-generation reader."

    "...."

    "There is a single mother, a single father to take care of."

    "...."

    "I have an old lover, or I''m getting married soon. Or I''m already a newlywed."

    "...."

    "Otherwise, there''s a ''humanly'' reason why people should not be killed in this ce."

    "...."

    "Outside to one side."

    No one snickered this time.

    All of themoner students began to slip away, looking away.

    "... is gone?"

    Eventually, everyone left to one side, and Vikir ended briefly.

    "Then let''s begin."

 Chapter 322: Underdogma (4)

    <h4>Chapter 322: Underdogma (4)</h4>

    ... Woosh!

    The joints snapped.

    One of the creatures sprawled across the floor.

    Vikir grabbed the horns of the lunging beetle-type King by the horns and put the joint back on.

    ...Crunch!

    Even the toughest armor has weak joints.

    A few taps revealed that the exoskeletons of the Kings were quite strong, and realizing this, Vikir stopped using the old, exhausting method of striking, and instead, conserved his strength and used artiction.

    The result.

    More than fifty Insectkingsy groaning on the sandy ground.

    After pinning down a stag beetle-type Insectking with a long white beard by the middle arm, Vikir asked with a hint of irritation.

    "Do you guys feel like having a conversation now?"

    [Yes. Please, just look at the middle arm, it''s a valuable part of the human body, too, please....]

    The elderly rhinoceros beetle-type Insectking, who appears to be some sort of elder, bends down and begs the question.

    When the old, gray-bearded Insectking bowed their heads, eventually all the Insectkings knelt before Vikir.

    Vikir stared at them all.

    ck exoskeletons, muscr bodies, subtly different faces depending on their gender....

    Overall, they all looked simr, but there was a crucial difference.

    It was the appearance of their horns.

    Some had a single, thick horn that towered over them, while others had two horns that sprouted like pincers.

    So to speak, it''s the difference between a rhinoceros beetle and a stag beetle.

    Apparently, these Insectkings didn''t get along very well among themselves.

    They didn''t work as a team when attacking.

    ''...That made it easy to overpower them.''

    Vikir sat down on a rotting log.

    In front of him, stag beetle-type and rhinoceros beetle-type Insectking were sitting on their knees.

    Naturally, the students of themoners group were kneeling down with paleplexions and voluntarily paying their taxes(?).

    ''Did you see, 50 beetles that all of us couldn''t do anything about.''

    ''We couldn''t even handle one of them... but 50 of them....''

    ''He''s a monster, he''s a monster! What the hell is he?''

    ''Maybe he ate hundreds of candies from upstairs, but that doesn''t exin it.''

    Vikir can hear them all chattering away.

    And to those guys.

    "Why don''t you shut up, you''re making noise to my lord."

    "Noisy."

    "Noisy."

    The triplets Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro now made no attempt to hide their reverence for Vikir.

    Meanwhile.

    Vikir turned to the Insectkings.

    "How did you guys end up here?"

    Then Insectking, a rhinoceros beetle type with long white eyebrows and beards, and Insectking, a stag beetle type, bowed their heads and opened their mouths.

    [We were living a very long time ago on an ind called "Giant Beetle Ind" beyond the harsh sea].

    [Then we were fighting a demon that attacked us out of nowhere, and we ended up trapped inside this strange tree].

    Amdusias had apparently carved off a portion of the ind and turned it into a world within a tree.

    However, by forcibly stitching the disparate terrain together, all of the ind''s vegetation dried up, leaving only a single root of the Hell Tree.

    [Since then, we have fought a long battle for the sap of the Hell Tree. There were other ship owners, but as time passed, they all died and we were the only ones left.]

    "...I see."

    Vikir nodded.

    The Insectking exnation was that the demon Amdusias was mimicking a god.

    Decarabia interjected.

    [I assume you are aware that Lun, whom you consider your creator, is also a ''worldview collector'' who likes to squeeze many worlds into one ce?]

    "I didn''t know that. What is that?"

    [It''s nothing. A sheep has its own world, and a wolf has its own world. But sheep and wolves obviously coexist in reality, don''t they? That''s the work of Lun].

    The Beginning. In the great world that originally existed, sheep, wolves, and humans lived together.

    But a being called Lun took some from the world of the sheep, some from the world of the wolves, and some from the world of the humans, and put them together, and that is the real world.

    [You call the needle that stitched those worlds together the ''ecological pyramid'' and the thread the ''food chain''].

    "Wasn''t that just an old Bible verse, something that was real?"

    [ Well, I don''t know, not even I can figure that out. What I do know is that Amdusias has been gathering worlds in his Hell Tree to mimic Lun. It''s been a longstanding hobby of his].

    Of course, the worlds in the Hell Tree that Amdusias has created and the real worlds that the Lun Gods have created are far different in their sophistication.

    It''s likeparing rags to riches.

    "...I''m not interested inplicated theological theories. I need to get out of here and go to the bottom floor."

    Vikir tucked decarabia into his chest pocket and turned back to the Insectking.

    "There will be no more arguing over sap. I will get you out of here."

    [What? Is that even possible?]

    All the Insectking, including the elders, opened their eyes wide.

    Vikir nodded and asserted.

    "Of course it is possible, but I need your help."

    [Whether it is possible! Anything as long as I can clear the mission on this floor and get out...!]

    But the Elders didn''t finish their sentence.

    "We need a ship. If it''s you guys, you''ll be able to get it, right?"

    At that, theplexions of all the Insectking stiffened.

    ....

    Silence. The awkward silence continued for a while.

    Eventually, the Insectking race who did not know lies brought out their inner thoughts.

    [In fact, the reason why the rhinoceros beetle tribe and the stag beetle tribe have been at odds for a long time is because of ''ships.'']

    "Why?"

    [Because, well, there''s a ship... that''s a bit of a problem...]

    When Vikir and the Insectking were in the middle of a conversation.

    "Uh! My lord, over there!"

    Highbro exims in a panicked tone.

    Vikir turns his head to see what it is, and his eyes catch an unexpected sight.

    Dogma. The leader of the Commoners'' faction was climbing the roots of the Hell Tree at breakneck speed.

    "Hahahaha- you stupid bastards, do you think I''m going to hand out sap to you!"

    His bloodshot eyes told them that he had already lost his mind.

    ...with a plop! Gulp- Gulp- Gulp- Gulp-

    Dogma dropped his head into the puddle of sap and began to gulp it down.

    Despite his already bloated belly, Dogma sucked down the sap with all the strength he could muster.

    He was desperate, as if he couldn''t give another drop.

    "Do, Dogma, give us some too!"

    "You''re the only one who drinks it, you disgusting bastard!"

    "The sap is for us!"

    Several of Dogma''s followers followed at his heels.

    They too were just about to dunk their heads in the puddle.

    ...Pow!

    One student''s head was crushed.

    Dogma''s hand. It had grown many timesrger and thicker, and now it squeezed the man''s skull and crushed it.

    Gulp-gulp-gulp-gulp!

    Despite the blood, brain fluid, and strange candies dropped by the dying man into a puddle of sap, Dogma did not remove its head from the sap nd.

    Seeing it, Vikir hissed low.

    "You shouldn''t drink that much."

    The sap of the Hell Tree belongs only to demons. No human could drink too much of it.

    And Dogma was a case in point that proved it to be true.

    "K-Uuuuuuh!?"

    He grabbed at his face with his hands, his stomach bulging from the amount of sap he had consumed.

    But it was toote.

    The sap of the Hell Tree had spread through his veins and seeped into his marrow, and it had begun to transform Dogma''s entire body.

    Pppudeudeug- kkudeudeug- ppadeug- ujijig!

    The students following Dogma cowered in fear.

    But they couldn''t escape under the roots.

    ... Quack!

    Dogma opened his mouth wide and chewed through their entire upper bodies with his razor-sharp teeth, swallowing them whole.

    [Ggah-aaaah...]

    Dogma chewing on flesh and candy.

    His appearance was already no longer that of a human.

    Majin (ħ��).

    A creature ssified as a demon, but neither demon nor monster.

    A wandering diaspora between the human and demon worlds for all eternity.

    As soon as Vikir saw it, he sighed once more.

    "It''s not going to be easy for someone that size...."

    Just then.

    [ Surp rise miss ion ? ]

    A grotesque fleshy fairy appeared above everyone''s heads.

    It wiggled its obnoxiously fat ass from side to side and chirped excitedly.

    [Wow ? Is the re an excell ent chall enger who has al ready bee a Majin ? Is it a hap py a sion ? Th en of cour se I shou ld gi ve you a miss ion, rig ht ? ]

    With that, the fairy dangled the mission in front of everyone''s eyes except for the Insectkings.

    -Ring!

    <Mission> �C Let''s kill a Majin!

    -Majin (0/1)

    �� Your precious friend has lost his temper, oh no~ Let''s quickly put him at ease! The only way is... you know?

    ...The problem is.

    -Ring!

    <Mission> �C Let''s kill all the living things!

    -Survivor (0/77)

    �� Even though you''ve be Majin, it''s meaningless if you don''t run wild, right? Let me prove how strong you''ve be! By the way, the rewards will be quite generous, right?

    Dogma got a mission too.

 Chapter 323: Underdogma (5)

    <h4>Chapter 323: Underdogma (5)</h4>

    ''Fucking world.''

    Dogma, a freshman. He was on his way out of the professor''s office after receiving a D grade on the assignment he had spent three nights working on.

    Exining that someone else had giarized his work didn''t work.

    Instead, despite being the victim of giarism, Dogma received the lowest grade and failed the ss.

    ''Is this what life is like formoners, to be trampled underfoot by nobles? Fuck this world.''

    On a deserted road, a few stray dogs run away from human footsteps.

    Dogma curses at the sky in the pouring rain.

    Suddenly, the rain stops.

    He turns around and sees a white umbre wrapped around his head.

    A female student with a bag of dog food in her hand was putting the umbre on Dogma.

    Dolores, the namete on her chest patch read.

    ''That''s not true.''

    Dolores opened her mouth with a smile that felt somewhat sad.

    ''Everyone is the hero of their own life, and the hero is often burdened with troubles, worries, guilt, and burdens. It''s the same for everyone in the world, noble ormoner.''

    Dogma was stunned.

    Is that true? Is that really true?

    ...No. I''ve been fooled by that sort of thing before. I''m not falling for it anymore.

    ''You can say that because you have everything. You''re pretty, you''re fit, you''re young, you''re well educated, you have money, youe from a good family. I''m sure you''ll graduate with flying colors and go back to your family and make it big, and you''ll meet someone equally handsome, tall, fit, good-natured, rich, and from a good family, and you''ll live happily ever after!''

    Dogma''s rant, echoing through the rain shower, was like a scream.

    A sharp hatred that shot out like an arrow without a target.

    But Dolores only smiled bitterly.

    ''...No.''

    A short answer.

    Dogma couldn''t help but go nk again at the sight of Dolores'' smile.

    He couldn''t help but feel a chill run down his spine whenever he saw that look on her face.

    ''Don''t smile like that.''

    For the next three years, Dogma tried his hardest to keep a straight face.

    Always hovering around Dolores, desperately trying to stand in the same ce, at the same eye level.

    Second in ss. Student Council Vice President.

    He rose to a remarkable position from amoner background.

    ... But inside him, a thousand fires of unknown origin simmered, never extinguished.

    Why? Why?

    After pondering for a while, Dogma soon realized the reason.

    The reason was...

    * * *

    [ What was that? ]

    Dogma''s mouth opened and a grotesquely distorted voice spilled out.

    The pronunciation from the mouth, which was no longer human, was simr to that of a grotesque flesh fairy.

    [ Why was I getting angry? ]

    Dogma, who had be a majin, seemed to have lost much of his vaunted intelligence.

    "...Hmm. You''re getting quite a bit bigger."

    Vikir lifted his head, resting his chin.

    Dogma''s body had be quite grotesque.

    Two of its limbs had grown longer than its legs, and a whip-like tail had grown from its buttocks.

    Its entire body is covered withrge shark scales, its forehead has arge single horn, and underneath it is a feast of teeth sticking out of its lipless mouth.

    Most impressive of all was the massive mane of mes that burned Dogma''s entire body.

    <Majin ''Inferiorityplex like deterioration''>.

    Danger rating: A+.

    Size: 8 meters

    Found in: Hell Tree, Underground Level 4 ''ck Sea Ind''

    -Also known as ''Inferiority Complex'' or ''Underdogma''

    The perverse form of a student who has always been at a disadvantage in school.

    They harbor a hatred so powerful that they want to set the world on fire.

    There seems to be no possibility of ever bing human again.

    ''This is how they would be described if they were in a book.''

    Information on humans who have been transformed into monsters is so fragmented and varies greatly from person to person that it is not included in the monster encyclopedia, but Vikir was able to infer enough information on his own.

    [geu-aaa... geugigig!]

    Meanwhile, Dogma, who had be a Majin, stood on the sandbank, spewing out terrifying killing intent.

    cheolsseog! puswiiiig-

    Arge wave crashed into Dogma''s body, vaporizing it into ck water vapor in an instant.

    "You''ve be a nuisance."

    Vikir pressed his temples.

    He had defeated the Daylily of Blood in the previous stage, but it was only a Degradation Version, and the Cerberus he had defeated in the stage before that had been aided by Ginkgo and Perfume.

    "...There isn''t much manpower avable."

    The students of themoner faction were too low in level and stats to be of any help, and the insectking were shivering in the distance as if they were afraid of fire.

    [Hahahaha- the insectking are basically insect and afraid of fire, moreover, it is more vulnerable to fire due to the waxponent coated on the surface of the exoskeleton.]

    "Not very useful information."

    Vikir held Decarabia in one hand and the Beelzebub in the other.

    "Well, fire can be put out with water."

    Fortunately, isn''t this a beach?

    Then.

    Whoosh.

    There was the sound of something moving next to him.

    Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro. The three of them were running backwards, away from Vikir''s side.

    [What? Are they running away? You say lord, lord, but you have no faith. This is what humans are...]

    "Probably not running away."

    [What? Then what...]

    Decarabia is about to express disbelief.

    Behind him, he hears Highbro shouting.

    "You worthless bastards, get out all the candy you''ve got!"

    The three Baskerville brothers regained their strength after drinking from the blood fountain.

    However, they themselves knew well that their weakened bodies were of little help to Vikir.

    A person who understands a topic well can be of great help in solving problems, regardless of their level of power.

    Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro created an atmosphere of fear and tore up all the extra strange candies themoner students had in their possession.

    The insectking were happy to oblige.

    "My lord, we''ve got candy,e on!"

    Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro ced the candy at the mouth of the sandbar and quickly retreated.

    [Those guys, they''re good for something?].

    "So you reaped."

    Vikir nodded toward the triplets.

    He could see their faces light up.

    Quack, quack, quack!

    The mes of inferiority spewed by Dogma began to burn the entire sandbar.

    The grains of sand melt into a sticky substance, emitting a glittering light.

    "You''re quite strong for a majin who appeared so early in the game. I hope we don''t have to face you again."

    If it''s bad enough that a mere Dogma-level human was demonized, what if a human with hero-level power and potential was demonized?

    It was horrifying to think about.

    Soakduk-

    Vikir unleashed an aura and severed one of Dogma''s ankles.

    Grumble!

    As soon as he felt his body was on fire, he jumped into the shallow water and took a dip.

    The water of the ck Sea was cold and heavy enough to chill even Dogma''s hot inferiorityplex.

    ...Boom!

    Waves bursting with explosions, and a huge amount of water vapor.

    Vikir ran across the sandbar to avoid it.

    Grabbing the candy the triplets had thrown at him, Vikir swallowed it whole.

    The status bar immediately changed.

    <Vikir>.

    -LV: 1 (%)

    -Title: ''Gutter Rat Hunter'', ''Hell Dog'', ''Daylily Lumberjack'' (NEW)

    -Stats.

    Strength: 260 (+40) = 300

    ?Agility: 229 (+31) = 260

    ?Stamina: 269 (+31) = 300

    ?Physical Resistance: 1

    ??: (unlocked)

    ?Reflexes: 1

    For now, he has his Strength and Stamina at 300, and his Agility stats up as high as they can go.

    ''I''ll save the rest of the candy and use it to get the ''big three'' stats.''

    The little remaining candy was stocked up for now.

    For now, it was enough to raise his strength and stamina to 300.

    ...Wiggle!

    His strength was much stronger than before, and he was ready for the day of Beelzebub.

    Even though he hasn''t leveled up, his stats have risen considerably, making him more powerful.

    This was enough to inflict a fatal wound.

    sh!

    4th Baskerville Form. Compared to the 8th, it''s child''s y, but Vikir''s 4th is different.

    Even CaneCorso, a master of the 9th Form, recognized the 4th Form of Vikir.

    His skill was unrivaled.

    Puff-puff-puck!

    Four teeth ferociously ripped at Dogma''s throat.

    [gigi- keugh!]

    Dogma vomited up a huge amount of blood.

    The bubbling blood immediately sank to the bottom as it hit the surface of the ck Sea.

    [He-agghhhhh!]

    Enraged, Dogma relentlessly chased after Vikir.

    Vikir calmly entered the sea and lured the dogma away.

    Bwaek-bwak!

    Dogma, whose wrists and ankles were cut off by Vikir spinning around his body, fell into the water of the ck Sea.

    "Cool off there."

    Vikir cut off the rest of Dogma''s limbs so that he could not escape.

    Struggling.

    Dogma struggled with tremendous force, but with only his head, body, and tail left, he was unable to pull himself up.

    The water was just deep enough topletely submerge Dogma''s body, so he continued to sink until he was less than half a foot from the tip of his nose.

    "They say the water in the ck Sea is not buoyant."

    Vikir swam up onto the sandy shore.

    He could see the water bubbling in the distance, indicating that Dogma was struggling.

    But the water is just deep enough that Dogma can''t keep his head above water.

    ck water, water that must sink once it falls into it.

    Vikir stood on the beach, keeping a close eye on Dogma.

    ...Finally, how much time has passed?

    Bubble Bubble Bubble- Puswiiiiig-

    The water stopped boiling.

    The erupting steam was gone.

    The water was once again calm.

    The thing struggling inside was dead.

    "...Drowned."

    Vikir muttered in a hushed voice.

    -Ding!

    The sound of missionpletion was heard.

    -Ding!

    [''Level 1 Warrior'' Vikir has sessfully hunted the first ''A+ Ranked Majin, ''Inferiority Like Deterioration'']!

    [''Awesome'' achievement reward granted!]

    <Mission End> �C Let''s kill a Majin!

    -Majin (1/1)

    ��...??? ...How did you really catch this one?

    Next, a fairy appeared, itsplexion hardened.

    It lifted Dogma''s cold body from the ck water and stuck out its tongue.

    The fairy swooped down to Vikir and offered him his reward for capturing the demon.

    [ Ah, you did it all by yo ur se lf ? ]

    It was 10 level candies.

    A strange, golden, glowing candy fell into Vikir''s hand.

    [ Th at''s it ? ]

    "Wait."

    Vikir called out to the disappearing fairy.

    "Do you have ess to a candy store?"

    [ Wh at ? Why ? ]

    "I want to sell level candy, with normal stats."

    The fairy scratched its head.

    A normal challenger would collect 300 normal stat candies to buy one level candy.

    But for Vikir, it was the other way around.

    At most, Vikir would trade 10 level candies for 3000 regr candies.

    For the fairy, it was a transaction that had no reason to refuse since it was a surplus business.

    Soon, Vikir had over 3,000 regr candies in his hand.

    Most of them were red strength candies, as candies are traded at random.

    Including the ones from themoner students and the insectking, there were just over 3100.

    ''It''s gacha time.''

    Vikir continued to feed the little madam on his shoulder with stat candies.

    [Nyamnyamnyamnyam- hack hack hack-]

    The little madam ate the candies, excited to see if it tasted good.

    Eventually, she ate all 3,000 candies and pooped out 30 candies.

    Vikir was disappointed when he saw the colors of the candiesing out of the little madam''s butt.

    Mostly red strength candies, blue stamina candies, and the asional green agility candy.

    But it''s obviously better to increase Strength by 100 than to increase Agility by 1, so Vikir''s gacha continues to take a heavy toll.

    By this point, Vikir had burned through all 3,000 candies.

    The harvest is about 10 agility candies.

    The rest were all power and stamina candies that were no better than crap.

    There are only 90 candies left, so he can''t run the gacha anymore.

    "No luck this time. No, this is how it''s supposed to be."

    Vikir decided to give up cleanly. He knew his expectations were too high in the first ce, so he shouldn''t be too disappointed with the oue.

    ... Just then.

    "Lord. I still have 12 candies left."

    Highbro grabbed a bloodstained candy from somewhere and held it out.

    "What''s this."

    "These are the students on Dogma''s side that he killed when he was demonized earlier. I dug them out from under a pool of sap."

    Vikir nodded. He hadn''t realized it, but this would allow him to spin the gacha one more time.

    ''I hope it''s not Strength or Stamina again. If it''s any of the three stats, it''ll be great..... and if it''s not, it should at least be Agility.''

    Vikir fed the little madam another 100 candies.

    Then.

    [kkeung-]

    The little madam began to twitch.

    And then.

    ...pop!

    A candy dropped onto Vikir''s palm.

    It was the purest, whitest candy he''d ever seen.

    -<Strange Candy> / Magic Resistance / White

    A candy that increases your Magic Resistance stat by 1.

    Tastes sour.

    +1 to Magic Resistance

    Eventually, Vikir''s mouth drew a line, even if only slightly, when he saw the candy''s exnation window.

    "Lucky."

    Good, but not just good.

 Chapter 324: The Shadowless King of the Black Sea (1)

    <h4>Chapter 324: The Shadowless King of the ck Sea (1)</h4>

    <Vikir>

    -LV: 1 (%)

    -Title: ''Gutter Rat Hunter'', ''Hell''s Dog'', ''Daylily Lumberjack'', ''Majin Executioner'' (NEW)

    -Stats

    Strength: 300

    ?Agility: 270 (+10) = 280

    ?Stamina: 300

    ?Physical resistance: 1

    ?Magic resistance: 0 (+1) = 1

    ?Reflexes: 1

    Vikir''s status bar has changed once more.

    The title "Majin Executioner" adds a deep karma to Vikir''s soul.

    Vikir''s body will be faster and his sword will be a sharper when dealing with Majin in the future.

    After feeding the little madam, I ate all the remaining Agility Candies.

    It''s the most difficult of the three primary stats to get, so you have to be diligent about eating it whenever you get a chance.

    ''... but that''s not the point right now.''

    No matter how valuable the Agility stat is, is that all there is to it?

    Vikir took note of a new stat, Magic Resistance.

    This is in line with the Physical Resistance stat, which bends thews of reality to create unusual force distortions.

    In the case of Mana Resistance, it makes you more aware of the flow of mana in the real world, and resists mana flowing in the opposite direction.

    In other words, it rejects aggressive mana that flies at you from an opponent and forces mana that flows backwards through your body to be repelled in its original direction.

    ''To put it simply, it halves the enemy''s magic attacks and suppresses the mana surge that urs within my body.''

    This is the ultimate stat for anyone practicing mana, especially mages.

    It halved your opponent''s magical attacks, but being able to control the mana surges within your own body was an incredible perk.

    Mana surges are usually thest thing a swordsman or mage wants to see when they step up to a higher level.

    Just as a worm emerging from its cocoon or a crustacean breaking out of its shell is at its weakest, those who practice mana also be weakest at the very moment they transcend their limits.

    Having a high Mana Resistance stat will help protect you from one of the worst dangers of all: Mana Surge.

    ''...Before regression, Camus invested everything in her Magic Resistance stat in the tower, and used that overwhelming resistance to learn all of the high-risk spells that would definitely result in Mana Surge if practiced.''

    In High Risk, High Return, she''s cramming all of her risk into her stats and then taking all of her return.

    It''s a very ignorant thing to do, but it''s something you can''t do without absolute confidence in your skills, talent, and future.

    "...Alright, now I have all six stats."

    The stats you''ll never get in the early stages, or even see until the end of the tower in theter stages, are Physical Resistance, Magic Resistance, and Reflexes.

    These three special stats are the Tower''s most secret hidden prizes and are progressive perks that grow with their owner, and now that Vikir has seeded in flowering all of them, he just needs to level them up.

    As you level up, all of your stats will naturally increase, so you don''t need to get any weird candy to grow all three base stats and three special stats.

    When Vikir was lost in thought.

    "My lord, with all due respect,... I have a question."

    Highbro spoke up from beside him.

    "When you got 10 level candies earlier, why didn''t you use them to level up? At level 10, wouldn''t you be able to find 10% of your power outside the tower? It seems like that would be much more beneficial than just raising your stats a bit right now...."

    "Hmm. It''s to bloom all six stats."

    Vikir exined the stats to the Baskerville triplets.

    When the triplets realized that in addition to the three primary stats of strength, agility, and stamina, there were three special stats, they were motivated.

    "We''ll try to find them, too! Then, my lord, you have collected all 6 major stats, so you can now level up!"

    "You''re going to get a huge level!"

    "You''re going to get a huge level!"

    But Vikir shook his head.

    "I won''t be leveling up as much as I can for a while. If you get level candy, sell it to the candy store and exchange it for stat candy, and when you get to the second half of the game, don''t use the level candy, but save it in your pockets."

    The Baskerville triplets look puzzled at this.

    Vikir exins the reward structure inside the tower.

    "As you level up, you regain some of your power outside the tower, which allows you to grow quickly in the beginning. However, the increasing difficulty of the tower''s missions and the decreasingly small rewards in theter stages of the tower can put people off."

    While neers to the Tower may be all-in on collecting stat candy and converting it to level candy, experienced yers don''t do that.

    The rule of the tower is that the lower the level, the better the rewards.

    Great feats by the strong are rewarded with mediocre rewards.

    Even when the weak achieve minor achievements, they also receive modest rewards.

    When the strong perform a small feat, they receive almost no reward.

    ... But when a weak person does something great.

    In these cases, the rewards are vastly different from what you''d expect!

    That''s why Vikir, in his Level 1 existence, has in a Gutter Rat, Hellhound, Cerberus, a Daylily of Blood Tree, a number of Insectking, and the Majin from earlier.

    The rewards of these missions have beenbeled "rare," "difficult," "epic," and "awesome".

    But even with all these missions and rewards, Vikir is still treated as an underdog.

    That''s because of the system in the tower, which uses level as a measure of strength.

    ''I''ve grown tired of ying weak.''

    He sighs. All the time he had spent in Colosseo Academy as a nerd who hid his strength had been a long wait for this day.

    "...Anyway. This is why you don''t need to level up at the beginning."

    The triplets nodded eagerly at Vikir''s words.

    To the triplets, who gave him a look of blind loyalty, Vikir added another word.

    "And one more thing, leveling up is a waste because...."

    Hearing Vikir''s whispered words, Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro''s eyes widened for a moment, before returning to their normal size.

    "Hmph, so all those fairy things that keep encouraging us to eat level candy are a scam...."

    "Indeed. I guess I should never eat level candy at the beginning, then."

    "I guess I should just focus on increasing my stats for now."

    There was no reason to rush to level up, as the stat candies that were collected without eating them could be exchanged for level candies at the candy storeter.

    Vikir repeated the advice to the triplets one more time.

    Then.

    ...Kurrrr!

    A small anomaly urred at the spot where Dogma, who had be a Majin, had died.

    A single me, ck and glowing, danced across the surface of the water.

    Vikir leapt to his feet and grasped the me in his hand.

    It was hot enough to boil the water around it, but surprisingly, Vikir''s hand didn''t feel the slightest bit hot.

    -<Fire of Inferiority ''Fire''> / Flint / A+

    A stone that allows you to get hot embers anytime, anywhere.

    It burns with the inferiorityplex deep within you as firewood.

    -Hotness +1,000

    *Temperature may be higher or lower depending on the level of inferiorityplex.

    "...So, you use inferiorityplexes as firewood, then I''m not going anywhere."

    Vikir, too, was once a victim of inferiorityplexes.

    His lowly origins, his family''s alienation, his deformed appearance, his former life filled with nothing but shame and hatred.

    With such bitter memories, Vikir has virtually unlimited power.

    ...Crunch!

    Vikir carefully tucked the mes of inferiority burning within his grasp into his arms.

    No longer would he freeze to death or be unable to cook his food, no matter where he was.

    Then.

    [O-our savior, get us off this ind!]

    Vikir had to listen to the shouts of the Insectking again.

    It was annoying, but it served their purpose.

    Vikir needed to get off the ind and down to the deeper levels, so it couldn''t hurt to y along.

    "Right. You said you had a ship, right?"

    It was said that a ship was the reason why the two races of Insectking, rhinoceros beetles and stag beetles, have been at odds for so long is because of one ship.

    Apparently, it was a dispute over which of the two races would take possession of the ship.

    They nodded in a sullen tone.

    [Yes, there is one ship].

    "Where is it?"

    Vikir asked, and the two elders stretched out their index fingers and pointed in unison.

    [It''s anchored over there].

    "...?"

    Vikir scratched his head. There was nothing where the two Elders pointed.

    Nothing but a distant horizon.

    "...What?"

    Vikir turned his head, and the two elders nodded with a heavy expression.

    [Yes, it is sinking].

    The ship, the only means of escape from this ind.

    It is sunk at the bottom of the ck Sea right now.

 Chapter 325: The Shadowless King of the Black Sea (2)

    <h4>Chapter 325: The Shadowless King of the ck Sea (2)</h4>

    "Doesn''t that mean you don''t actually have a ship?"

    Highbro asked in disbelief.

    The Insectking flinched slightly, then retorted.

    [... Of course there is, because it''s sunk beneath the sea].

    It seems like they have decided to go out shamelessly.

    "No, what do you think you''re doing with a sunken ship, you beetles, trying to scam me!"

    Highbro snarled, and the beetles nced over at Vikir.

    Then.

    "Enough."

    Vikir interrupted them all.

    That wasn''t what mattered now.

    "Did you know that the ck Sea has no buoyancy, so everything sinks?"

    [That''s right, that''s why very few creatures can survive in the ck Sea].

    Hearing the Insectking words, Vikir turned his head and looked at the ck horizon.

    The bottom of that vast sea must be utterly empty.

    Even if unique creatures asionally live, the distance between each individual is probably very long.

    A dark sea of emptiness. Down there, the ships of the Insectking are sunk.

    "If it''s sunk, isn''t it a ship that can''t sail in the ck Sea?"

    [No, our ships float on the surface of the ck Sea].

    The Insectking unfolded their ck armor and the thin wings beneath it.

    They were light and strong, with a waxy coating on the outside that helped them float.

    [The long-standing conflict between the stag beetle tribe and the rhinoceros beetle tribe resulted in numerous casualties. We collected the remains of the fallen and built a ship, which was light and strong enough to sail even on the surface of the ck Sea. It sank after a dispute over ownership....]

    "Why exactly did it sink?"

    [Well, that''s because... one day a group of Insectking ambushed the ship, seized it, and set sail, only to stop after crossing the center of the ck Sea...]

    The story of the Insectking that followed was unbelievable.

    "...Hmm. Now I know what''s been happening."

    He could see why the elders looked troubled.

    Vikir sprang into action.

    "First, we will raise the sunken ship. Tell me exactly where the ship sank."

    * * *

    The ck Sea was calm.

    But off in the distance, on the horizon, a fierce gale is raging.

    It''s like a wall that keeps challengers out of the area.

    But Vikir did not cross the sea.

    ...with a plop!

    He simply sank deeper into it.

    Gurgling.

    Foam and bubbles crashed before his eyes, and within seconds, his vision went ck.

    But it didn''t matter.

    Vikir could see dozens of meters in the dark.

    It was a secondary ability he''d acquired after two years of honing his archery and hunting skills in the jungles of the Red and ck Mountains.

    kkuleuleug- gulug...

    The further down he went, the more the pressure on his body.

    The heavy space seemed to want to crush him.

    He felt like he was falling into a pool of ice-cold water.

    There is almost no buoyancy, so even if he stays still, he sinks.

    Huuk-.

    The oxygen was getting low. Due to the high water pressure on his lungs, his oxygen consumption was much faster than normal water.

    ''At least it''s not as bad as the Styx, where I almost drowned.''

    Vikir searched his arms, thinking about various things in his mind.

    Then, in his hand, he felt a bulging pouch.

    -<Oil-blotting paper pouch that does not dissolve well in water> / Pouch / D

    A pouch that is quite tough and does not dissolve well in water.

    It repels moisture, so it''s good for holding things.

    The bag was full of air.

    Vikir sucked on it with a straw and then put it back in his arms.

    He didn''t float, even with the air-filled pouch, because it wasn''t buoyant.

    Often, when he couldn''t breathe, Vikir sank deeper and deeper into the sea, sucking in the air in his pouch.

    Then.

    Decarabia clinging around his chest pocket called out to him.

    [Hey, human].

    ''Why.''

    [You didn''t really need to join hands with the Insectking, did you?]

    Dekarabia pointed to the mission status window floating in the corner of Vikir''s vision.

    <Mission> �C Capture the Sap Pool!

    ��Steal the sap pool from the scary ship owners and survive!

    It was a struggle to steal the sap fountain from the previous guests who had arrived inside the tower first, that is, the Insectking race.

    That''s actually the mission on this floor.

    But Vikir had a different interpretation.

    ''I think it means something different. Perhaps it refers to the ship''s owner, the master of the ship.''

    [Hmm. In that case, thepletion of the mission would definitely depend on the presence or absence of a ship].

    ''Right. I''m sure there are other ways to clear this floor. Like I did with the Daylily of Blood Tree on the 3rd floor.''

    As he continue the conversation, he suddenly saw the floor.

    A forest of dead trees. Formerly otherworldly terrain, sunk beneath the waters of the ck Sea.

    It was like looking at a forest of skewered trees rising above the dead coral reefs.

    It was a grim scene that seemed to symbolize the evil intent in the demon''s mental world.

    As he descended to a certain depth, Decarabia on his chest responded.

    [Human, look down the hill].

    There, in the deep valley beneath the towering trench, was something.

    It was the ''ship'' that emerged from the darkness of the deep sea.

    A ck, glossy ship, its sails woven from insect wings, still pping in the current.

    The ck ship, still and submerged, looked quite sleek and sturdy.

    Vikir pushed through the heavy current and approached the stern.

    The bow began to reveal its overall outline, starting with its massive, pointed tip.

    There were some pretty nasty scratches here and there, including on the deck and hull, but the keel, the ship''s spine, was still intact.

    Despite being in the water for so long, there was very little seaweed or sphagnum moss.

    The only serious problem is therge hole in the hold and lower part of the ship wall.

    ''Water must have gotten in through those holes and sunk the ship.''

    Vikir d it didn''t sink due tock of buoyancy.

    It''s a hole, it can be salvaged and filled.

    Then Decarabia asked.

    [But how are you going to get that huge ship up there?]

    Dekarabia didn''t seem to understand Vikir''s n.

    [It would be impossible with human strength, even with all the twenty men on the ind and the thirty Insectking. They wouldn''t even be able to get down here in the first ce...]

    ''Hmm. I''ve thought about that.''

    Vikir swam a little faster.

    There wasn''t much air left, so he had to hurry.

    ''...And there''s one other thing we need to watch out for.''

    Soon, Vikir was standing in front of a huge sailing ship.

    A ship that sank at the bottom of darkness, in a vast void.

    The creaking nks and ominously fluttering sails beneath the quiet seabed make this ship look like a ghost ship.

    ''Okay then, let''s carry out the salvage work as soon as possible.''

    Vikir throws up his arms.

    Kii-gigigigig...

    An unpleasant noise came from somewhere.

    A mysterious sound from the other side of the ship.

    Vikir looks up and sees something emerge from the darkness in front of him.

    "...!

    Shark scales covering its entire body, a horn sprouting from its forehead, a gaping mouth full of teeth.

    This was Dogma, who had been transformed into a Majin.

    The mes that wrapped around his body like a mane had already been extinguished, but his hideous appearance remained.

    ''No wonder it sank to this ce.''

    Vikir clicked his tongue and readied himself for battle.

    ....this?

    Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud.

    Something was strange.

    Dogma appeared through the darkness, trembling slightly with only his upper body sticking out, but other than that, he showed no movement.

    And then.

    ...tud!

    Soon, Dogma''s head, buried in the darkness, fell to the bottom of the sea.

    The upper body disappears in an instant, buried in darkness, and only the head, with only the horns and teeth remaining, rolls down the trench and disappears from view.

    ''....''

    Vikir tore his gaze away from Dogma''s head and stared into the darkness again.

    Sssssss...

    Upon closer inspection, the darkness in which Dogma''s body was buried seemed to be moving slowly.

    It wasn''t a shape, but the darkness itself, rising up from the bottom.

    ''Now that I think about it, strangely, that part is particrly dark.''

    There is a faint light on the other side, but the enormous darkness approaching this direction is pitch ck, with nothing visible.

    And Vikir recognized it immediately.

    The darkness that was now overtaking them was an absolute terror that could not even bepared to hellhounds, Cerberus, or Daylily from the previous stages.

    ''...I see, so this one was living here.''

    Danger level S rank, a real threat that has not been affected by deterioration or anything like that.

    This was the moment when the ''core of darkness'' was revealed.

 Chapter 326: The Shadowless King of the Black Sea (3)

    <h4>Chapter 326: The Shadowless King of the ck Sea (3)</h4>

    [The long-standing conflict between the stag beetle tribe and the rhinoceros beetle tribe resulted in numerous casualties. We collected the remains of the fallen and built a ship, which was light and strong enough to sail even on the surface of the ck Sea. It sank after a dispute over ownership....]

    ''Why exactly did it sink?''

    [Well, that''s because... one day a group of Insectking ambushed the ship, seized it, and set sail, only to stop after crossing the center of the ck Sea...]

    Vikir remembered the conversation he''d had with the Insectking.

    Before diving into the depths of the ck Sea, the Insectking had made him a few promises, promises that a lesser challenger would not have believed.

    [I met a monster].

    ''You''re a monster, too.''

    [''It'' was more than that. It was a primordial creature that had been dragged here from a very, very long time ago ... and as long as it remained at the bottom of the sea, it would be impossible to cross the ck Sea, even with the best ships].

    From the sound of it, it seemed that the Insectking were trapped in the ck Sea, four levels underground, and it wasn''t just because of the winds that swirled around the area.

    And now Vikir was seeing with his own eyes that it was true.

    Tsutsutsutsuts...

    A great darkness loomed before Vikir''s eyes.

    It looks like a part of the abyss has broken away, like a mass, and is swimming on its own.

    But closer inspection reveals it to be a translucent mass that prates the darkness on the other side.

    A hemispherical mass with an unimaginablyrge diameter.

    It had a translucent, shapeless body and was approaching with countless tentacles dangling from the base of the mass.

    A being that floats aimlessly in a dark void that cannot see an inch ahead, with its body stained by the darkness of the deep, deep sea.

    <Shadowless King of the ck Sea>

    Danger Rating: S

    Size: ?

    Found in: Pr Hell, the five oceans ''ck Sea'', the ultra-deep part of the ''Great Heart Sea''

    -aka ''Shadowless King of the ck Sea''

    Arge jellyfish that inhabits the ck Sea, one of the five oceans in the Pr Hell.

    It is a primordial creature that lives in the Great Heart Sea, an area that even high-ranking demons are reluctant to enter, and its ecology ispletely shrouded in mystery.

    It is also unknown where it came from, where it is going, and why it is floating in the void of nothingness.

    ''The Shadowless King of the ck Sea''

    This massive jellyfish exudes an aura of menace that is almost as intimidating as that of the "Madame of the Eight Legs," a foe he once faced in the Red & ck Mountain.

    ''...Hmm, I don''t think this one can be controlled even with the power of Amdusias.''

    Vikir thought for a moment.

    The Daylily of Blood Tree that he had faced in the previous stage had been degraded by prolonged starvation.

    Also, since the demon Amdusias itself is naturally friendly to nts, it would not have been too much of a problem to catch and control the Daylily of Blood Tree.

    However, the Shadowless King of the ck Sea in front of him was different.

    It was an absolute power on the same level as the Madame Eight Legs he''d fought before, and even if it was an unintelligent monster, it wouldn''t be able to be controlled by a demon at this point.

    In other words, the giant jellyfish in front of him is not under the control of Amdusias, but is a pioneer creature that lives here on its own.

    As such, it was unlikely that there would be any reward for capturing it.

    Then.

    Shiriririk...

    Suddenly, Vikir felt a tickling sensation on his cheek.

    Instinctively, Vikir jerked his head back, and a translucent tentacle fluttered past his eyes.

    Crunch!

    The tentacle clung to a boulder for a moment, then shattered it with tremendous force.

    ''This won''t be fun if I get caught.''

    Vikir quickly stepped back and drew his magic sword, Beelzebub.

    Thwack!

    He swung the sword randomly, and it hit in several ces.

    Three tentacles were cut off and fell to the ground.

    ''They were wrapped around me without a sound.''

    They were translucent and hard to see.

    Vikir strained his eyes.

    Then he saw three tentacles with severed ends, stealthily drawing back.

    kkumulkkumulkkumul...

    New tentacles sprouted from the severed ends.

    Apparently it has the ability to regenerate.

    ''If so.''

    Vikir pushed on the end of Beelzebub''s tentacle.

    ...Snap!

    One of the tentacles that had been sneaking up on his back was sliced off again by Vikir''s blow.

    However, this time, the severed tentacle did not regenerate.

    The end of the tentacle dried up and curled into a ball.

    Seeing this, Vikir flicked the edge of his magic sword, Beelzebub, once.

    ''That''s good enough for now.''

    The ability to dry up a jellyfish''s tentacles was a rtively recent skill.

    <Binge Fly ''Beelzebub''> / Awl

    -1 slot: Deadly Venom -Madame Eight Legs (S)

    -2 slot: Unkible -Basilisk (S)

    -3 slot: Starvation Drought �C Blood Daylily (S)

    The Starvation Drought ability is obtained by capturing a Daylily of Blood.

    Beelzebub''s sword, which grants dryness through its Drought and Starvation abilities, was evaporating arge amount of moisture every time it grazed the jellyfish''s tentacles.

    The jellyfish''s hydrated tentacles curled up as if they were about to be roasted.

    Puff, puff, puff!

    The Shadowless King of ck Sea stopped trying to get closer to Vikir and began to whip it tentacles, creating a giant windstorm.

    ''The waves on the surface are being created by this thing?''

    The giant jellyfish''s turbulent currents spewed out of its twisting tentacles, creating a whirlpool.

    The current, as heavy as molten iron, spun around, creating an effect like a saw de.

    ...ppuppug! ujijijijig!

    Vikir''s flesh bursts open.

    His entire body was torn apart, as if he had been sliced open by countless des.

    However, Vikir was able to recover most of his body thanks to the Unkible ability he extracted from the Basilisk''s corpse.

    In addition, therge amount of blood that Vikir spilled immediately turned ck and flowed into the waters of the ck Sea.

    Even the Shadowless King of the ck Sea couldn''t help but be stunned as the "venomous" blood of Madame Eight Legs spread around it.

    Meanwhile, Vikir took out Decarabira''s shield and used it like a surfboard.

    ...Kurrrrr!

    Vikir zed through the raging water currents.

    Vikir swam toward the sunken ship on the ocean floor with his momentum.

    Decarabia looked puzzled.

    [Human, you don''t stand a chance against that jellyfish, not in your current form!]

    "I know."

    [If you knew, you''d run away, but why are you going towards that ship? You can''t even salvage it with your current strength!]

    Literally.

    A giant ghost ship in front of him, and the Shadowless King of the ck Sea behind him. Neither of them are within Vikir''s power.

    The ship is too heavy for him to lift alone, and the Shadowless King of the ck Sea is too powerful for him to face alone.

    But Vikir was nonchnt.

    ''We still have a little time.''

    Pulling the pouch of air from his arms, Vikir inhaled thest of it.

    kkugis-

    And with that, the pouch was empty.

    -<Oil-blotting paper pouch that does not dissolve easily in water> / Pouch / D

    A pouch that is quite tough and does not dissolve well in water.

    It has the power to block moisture, so it is good for storing things.

    Vikir crumpled it in his hands and tossed it into the hole in the sunken ship''s hull.

    Shhhhhh...

    Even at that moment, the ck Sea Shadowless King was casting countless tentacles toward Vikir.

    Decarabia spoke a little more urgently.

    [Human, they''reing from all directions, I don''t want to be buried in a ce like this!]

    ''Neither do I.''

    [What are you going to do, then? Escape is out of the question! We have no choice but to salvage that ship! But you are powerless...]

    However, Decarabia could not persuade Vikir to stay.

    ... Kukung!

    With a heavy noise, the ship sunk in the depths of the ocean began to shake.

    [Huh?]

    As Decarabia rolled its eyes in bewilderment, the ship slowly began to rise from the bottom.

    Koo-koo-koo-koo-koo...

    Rocks and mud rained down from the bottom of the ship.

    The ghost ship, which had been sunk for a long time at the bottom of the deep sea, floated on its own, heading for the surface of the ck Sea without any buoyancy.

    ''It''s about time.''

    As if he had been waiting, Vikir grabbed the anchor line hanging from under the ghost ship''s dock.

    And then it began to rise toward the surface, following the ship at an incredible speed.

    Ts-ooooooh...

    The tentacles that had been curling toward Vikir iled about, lost and disoriented.

    [Uh, what''s going on, human, why is this ship floating on its own?]

    Decarabia squinted its single eye at Vikir for an answer.

    But soon, Vikir didn''t need to answer.

    The answer was right there in front of him.

    ...Pow!

    Something jutted out of the hole in the ghost ship''s hull.

    It was like a giant balloon.

    It was filling up the inside of the ship, pushing it upward!

    It didn''t take Decarabia long to realize the identity of the balloons filling the ship''s interior.

    [...Air Sacs!]

    That''s right.

    They were air sacs that aquatic nts such as water hyacinth built into their bodies to create buoyancy.

    "Daylily of Blood Tree".

    Its seeds were now germinating in the belly of the ghost ship!

 Chapter 327: The Shadowless King of the Black Sea (4)

    <h4>Chapter 327: The Shadowless King of the ck Sea (4)</h4>

    -<Oil-blotting paper pouch that does not dissolve easily in water> / Pouch / D

    A pouch that is quite tough and does not dissolve well in water.

    The phrase "does not dissolve well in water" can also mean dissolves in water.

    Vikir sucked air into this pouch and waited for it to dissolve.

    Slowly, like a lump of starch thrown into water, the sachet dissolves, slightly sticky.

    Time after time, it was unraveling, crushed by the heavy water pressure of the ck water.

    And when the air had been sucked out of it, Vikir crumpled it up and tossed it into the ghost ship, which was actually loaded with one more item besides air.

    Seeds from the remains of the Daylily of Blood.

    The pouch was filled with daylily seeds that had been plucked out with a hoe made from a shrew''s teeth.

    The pouch was a Grade D misceneous item, so it didn''tst long in the harsh environment of the ck Sea.

    And when the pouch was released into the grass, the seeds inside met the waters of the ck Sea.

    ''... For an item from a rarity box, it was useful.''

    Vikir thought to himself as he watched the Daylily seeds grow in the hold of the floating ship, sucking up water at an rming rate.

    Swoosh!

    In the blink of an eye, the Daylily seeds stretched out their stems and roots, creating a series of plump balloons.

    The Daylily of Blood Tree that Vikir had dealt with hadn''t been able to grow their air sacs properly due to the extreme dryness, but the Daylily that bloomed in the ck Sea was different.

    Once it had absorbed the water, the Daylily inted its air sacs at a tremendous rate, and they were filled with light gases that gave it enough buoyancy to float even in the ck sea water.

    ''It''s salt water, so it won''t grow much, but it''ll grow enough to make an air sac.''

    [...Yes, indeed! This is the ck Sea, heavy, cold, briny water. The Daylily will not grow to a dangerous size. They''ll grow just enough to be useful. Good choice of location].

    While Decarabia admired in a rather chatty tone, Vikir was already soaring into the heart of the sea.

    And then.

    ... thunk!

    The ship suddenly tilted sideways.

    Vikir, who was hanging on the anchor line hanging below the dock, also almost fell to the bottom.

    kkigigigigigig-

    An ufortable sound is heard throughout the ship''s body.

    It tipped sideways, its contents raining down on them.

    The heavy cargo of crates and oak barrels, swords and halberds, sank over Vikir''s head.

    Vikir charged his sword with aura and swung, clearing away the debris that fell like snow.

    [There''s something up there!]

    Decarabia shouted.

    Vikir nodded in agreement.

    ''It''s the Shadowless King of the ck Sea. It must havee up and blocked the ship.''

    The rising ship was halted by a giant jellyfish blocking its path.

    But it didn''t matter. It was just what Vikir had hoped for.

    Grabbing the anchor line, Vikir scrambled up the ship''s mast and jumped onto the watchtower.

    pupupupug!

    Hended dozens of blows on the jellyfish''s body, which appeared to be a dark mass.

    [...! ...! ...! ...!]

    The ck Sea Shadowless King jerked back in surprise at the stinging sensation.

    But it was toote.

    ''I''m d I kept some spare.''

    Vikir''s awl-like strike burrows deep into the jellyfish''s slimy body, nting the daylily''s seeds deep within.

    Soon, the moisture-sucked seed began to germinate.

    syuleuleuleug-

    The roots that grew inside the body pierced through the flimsy flesh of the jellyfish and took root firmly.

    And the stem that grew out of the jellyfish''s body formed a cluster of air sacs with extremely strong buoyancy.

    Tsutsutsutsutsutsuts...

    Shadowless King of the ck Sea was the first to show signs of panic.

    The air sacs that had grown outside its body were buoyant and soaring upward.

    Firmly embedded in its body, the roots were connected to the air sacs by tough stems.

    The ck Sea King struggled to control its body as it was forced upward, iling its tentacles.

    However, it was unable to stop the upward flow, as the jellyfish''s body does not allow it to swim fast and strong.

    It was also useless to use its translucent body to hide in the darkness.

    The Daylily''s air sacs and roots revealed the location of its body.

    kugung- gugugugugugu-

    After a brief pause, the ship began to rise again.

    This time, Shadowless King of the ck Sea was also there.

    Vikir, which pulls the entire ship and the King of the ck Sea to the surface!

    However, the King of the ck Sea would not be deterred.

    Shurirok-

    It extended its tentacles in a much more vicious and aggressive manner than before.

    It seemed like it was going to wrap around Vikir''s body and crush it at any moment.

    However.

    ... Poof!

    The tentacle in front of Vikir''s eyes was instantly torn apart by an unidentified force.

    The other tentacles did the same.

    Poof! Poof! Bang!

    The ck Sea Shadowless King floundered like a marite with a broken string as explosions ripped through its body.

    Decarabia was stunned and asked.

    [Human! Did you do this?]

    ''No.''

    Vikir shook his head.

    What was now breaking down the giant jellyfish''s body was ''hydrostatic pressure'', the difference in pressure as it floated from the depths to the surface.

    When you go from deep to shallow so quickly, the difference in pressure causes all sorts of bizarre things to happen.

    This is why deep-sea fish caught by fishermen and dragged to the surface are often oddly bloated.

    In addition, the ''diving disease'' that kills divers is also a phenomenon that urs due to this pressure difference.

    Vikir barely suppressed the dizziness in his head.

    The protection of the Styx River, his management of his mana, and the regenerative powers of the Basilisk protected him from the pressure.

    But the mollusk''s sensitivity to water and air pressure hadn''t adjusted well to the sudden change.

    The Shadowless King of the ck Sea tried to return to the trench in the deepest part of the ocean, but the Daylily that had already bloomed all over his body made it impossible.

    In the end.

    ...Boom!

    The ship and Shadowless King of the ck Sea broke the surface of the water almost simultaneously.

    Up in the breezy air, they could see the ind in the distance, where the three Baskerville brothers and the Insectking were waiting.

    "Hooray! The Lord has saved the ship!"

    "He has!"

    "He has!"

    We see the triplets waving their hands.

    [Oooh! The ship is finally back!]

    [Finally! We can finally get out of here!]

    [Our mission, ''escape the ind by boat'', is no longer a dream!]

    The Insectking are overjoyed, too.

    However.

    Pfft!

    The appearance of a jellyfish so gigantic that it filled the entire surface of the water turned everyone''s cheers into shock and silence.

    The Shadowless King of the ck Sea.

    It dragged itself to the surface, spreading its enormous body across the surface.

    Just as jellyfish usually spread out like pancakes when theye out of the water, the same was true for this one.

    ...If anything is different.

    Shurorororock!

    Unlike normal jellyfish, which be lethargic as soon as they are dragged out of the water, the ck Sea Shadowless King began to extend its tentacles in a much more aggressive manner.

    Parts of its body exploded and became tattered, embedded with Daylily seeds and roots, but it didn''t seem to mind as it attacked Vikir.

    hultteog-

    The ck Sea Shadowless King chased after Vikir with the covers pulled back over its body.

    Hundreds of gigantic, slitted eyeballs, like the eyes of a corpse, stared at Vikir in unison.

    Decarabia asked.

    [What are we going to do now, human? I think it''s best to run away now, right?]

    If we fight this way, we will surely lose.

    The size difference is too great, and this is not a good ce.

    If he was outside the tower, he could have fought across the sea using his master solid aura, but that''s not possible now.

    Besides, he already has the ship, so there''s no need to gamble with his life.

    But.

    "I don''t do things without certainty."

    Vikir didn''t seem the least bit willing to back down.

    "Drive the ship!"

    The Insectking were there when Vikir barked the order.

    They flew through the air and approached the ship, clinging to the masts and sails one by one.

    [We will push the ship as it is!]

    [To the ind! To the ind!]

    [The storm is passing! Ride the wind!]

    The Insectking followed Vikir''s orders and pushed the ship toward the ind.

    They were quite desperate, as their mission on the 4th floor was to "escape the ind by boat".

    Shurororock-

    The Shadowless King of the ck Sea, who interfered with the mission, stretched out its tentacles and tried to catch the Insectking race this time as it did in the past.

    ssagdug- ssagdug- ssagdug-

    Vikir struck a blow, slicing off all of its tentacles.

    His Graduator-ss aura was a bit too weak to cut off the Shadowless King''s tentacles, but it was strengthened by the Starvation Drought ability he had stolen from the Daylily of the Blood Tree.

    Swoosh.

    The blurry eyeballs beneath the jellyfish''smpshade erupted in blood.

    Shadowless King of the ck Sea, was peering in their direction with roots and air sacs scattered all over its body. The far-off killing intent it exuded was enough to make even the Insectking race flying away with their ship faint for a moment.

    And.

    Vikir''s response to that fierce gaze was just as fierce.

    ...Hiss!

    A single me rises from Vikir''s fingers.

    -<Fire of Inferiority ''Fire''> / Flint / A+

    A stone that allows you to get hot embers anytime, anywhere.

    It burns with the inferiorityplex deep within you as firewood.

    -Hotness +1,000

    ��Temperature may be higher or lower depending on the extent of your inferiorityplex.

    Thest spark of Dogma''s life before he became a majin.

    Vikir was holding it in his hand and digging towards the ck Sea Shadowless King.

    "Let''s see how well it burns."

    Toward the air sacs of the daylily that had taken root in its body.

 Chapter 328: The Shadowless King of the Black Sea (5)

    <h4>Chapter 328: The Shadowless King of the ck Sea (5)</h4>

    The Trident of Baskerville.

    The triplets, Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro, who had sworn allegiance to their half-brother Vikir, now stood dazed on the beach.

    While holding the baby madam who was whimpering while looking for Vikir.

    "Master''s level... 1, right?"

    "That''s right. He''s a hundred times weaker."

    "And he can fight like that?"

    Vikir is a god of battle, his feet moving over the bodies of ghost ships and jellyfish, sometimes even breaking the surface of the water.

    It was like watching a fighting dog born solely for battle.

    An aura that was at least a Graduator Intermediate or higher, and a sword skill that was clearly Baskerville, but whose level of mastery was unknown.

    Those who don''t know Vikir would be puzzled if they saw him.

    Why is Vikir not weaker than he was outside the tower, but stronger?

    But the three Baskerville brothers knew.

    Vikir had already reached that level four years ago.

    ''I''ll buy you some time. You go.''

    The Hound was left alone to face the Nightmare of the Depth, Madame of the Eight Legs.

    How could they forget the sun-like aura that rose from the tip of the hero''s sword at that time?

    That light changed everything. The triplets'' way of thinking, their behavior, and their fate.

    From that night on, the triplets became tridents. Moving solely at Vikir''smand.

    Highbro spoke with conviction.

    "Indeed. My lord, he was a master."

    "He was a Master."

    "He was a Master."

    What is a Sword Master? ording to official records, there are fewer than ten of them in the entire Empire.

    In Iron Blooded Swordsman Baskerville, it is assumed that Hugo Le Baskerville, CaneCorso, one of the Seven Counts who disappeared a long time ago, and Osiris, the young patriarch of the Family, will soon be Masters, but it is not yet certain.

    In such a situation, the fact that Vikir was promoted to Sword Master was a fact that would have shocked the entire empire.

    Not to mention he''s not even twenty yet.

    The triplets'' gaze shifted to the side.

    There, they saw a group of Commoner students gathered together, shivering.

    Their stats were pretty low from all the stats they''d been feeding Dogma, and none of them dared to look the triplets in the eye, especially since they''d just been feeding Vikir candy.

    Highbro spoke up.

    "...I''ll see you guyster."

    "Huh?"

    Themoner students began to tremble.

    They had a history of treating triplets like dogs and mistreating them.

    But that didn''t mean they couldn''t do something about it.

    For themoner students, even if Vikir wins the fight against that giant jellyfish, it is despair, and even if he loses, it is despair.

    ''No matter what, I''d rather Vikir win....''

    Themoner students remembered what Vikir had said when he first appeared.

    ''Raise your hand. I am the third generation reader. I have a single mother and a single father to support. You have an old lover or are about to get married. Or are you already newlyweds? There is a ''humanly'' reason why people should not be killed in this ce. Outside to one side.''

    The fact that he said this means that he at least has warmth.

    ''Now that things are like this, I have no choice but to beg for my life from Vikir.''

    ''There''s no way the Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro will forgive us.''

    ''They''ll kill us, and even if they make a thousand concessions and let us live, they''ll cripple us.''

    ''... Let''s go to Vikir and beg as much as we can.''

    While themoner students were thinking about this and that.

    ...kwakwakwakwakwang!

    A pir of fire of immense height and thickness rose from the sea surface.

    It signaled the end of the battle and the victory.

    * * *

    The ck Sea Shadowless King was still asrge and powerful as ever when it rose to the surface.

    beodungbeodung-

    Its tentacles iled, churning the water.

    It looked like it wanted to go back down to the heart of the sea again.

    Kuguk- Kugigik...

    It was impossible, as a powerful buoyancy enveloped its body, the opposite of anything it had ever experienced since its birth in the ck Water.

    Shurororok-

    It stretched out its tentacles and tried to cut the air sacs and stems, but even the Daylily of Blood Tree is not as easily broken as a Dangerous S-ranked monster.

    The roots, which had already burrowed deep into the jellyfish''s shapeless body, were impossible to pull out without tearing off flesh.

    "It may be a freshly germinated seed, but its durability cannot be ignored."

    Vikir sliced off a few of the lunging tentacles and dried them, then stepped onto the King''smpshade.

    The body was so soft that it sunk into your thighs when you stepped on it, but Vikir managed to maintain his bnce even on top of it.

    Snap.

    Vikir pulled at the Daylily''s stem with a strong grip.

    The blossoms all over Shadowless King body were pulled down like balloons on a string.

    Snap, snap, snap!

    Vikir tied the Daylily''s tough stems together.

    In an instant, a knot the size of a human head appeared.

    The knotting techniques he''d learned in the field could be used to bind even the strongest ropes tightly in an instant.

    Vikir stepped on the knot, jumped to the other side of the trunk, and used his weight to pull it across the slick ground.

    He then gathers up the thicker stems on the other side, ties them together, and knots them.

    Soon, the stems were tightly tied together, and it looked as if Shadowless King of the ck Sea had been bound with rope.

    "That''s it. At this point, if one explodes, the others won''t be blown away."

    Vikir zigzagged to avoid the flying tentacles.

    The many stalks tangled and knotted together like a honeb, so the tentacles could not reach him if he slid under them.

    Thwack! Whirrrrrr!

    A flying tentacle is caught in a web of # shaped Daylily stems.

    Due to its mushy nature, the tentacle is unable to untangle itself.

    From then on, Vikir didn''t cut off the flying tentacles.

    Instead, they were caught in theting made from the Daylily''s stems, causing them to tangle even more.

    Eventually, Vikir arrived at the end of the cap and jumped onto the surface of the water, holding a small air sac in his hand.

    ...st!

    At the same time, Vikir kicked as hard as he could against the jellyfish''s body wall.

    Ssh- ssh- ssh-

    He must get as far away from the ck Sea Shadowless King as possible.

    "Let''s pull! Ugh!"

    "Ugh!"

    "Ugh!"

    The Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro catch Vikir''s call just in time to tug on the threads extending from the madame cub''s tail.

    It had been attached to Vikir''s waist all along.

    chwaaaag-

    Vikir cuts through the water, putting distance between him and the ck Sea King.

    Soon, the embers that Vikir had ced in the center of the ck Sea Shadowless King''s body have finally caught fire in the far end of the air sac.

    Crackle!

    The mes that had been sizzling on the surface of the air sac soon engulfed the entire air sac.

    ...Pow! ...Pow! ...Pow! ...Pow!

    Eventually, the air sacs swallowed by the fire shrunk and began to react.

    Ka-Boom!

    The Daylily''s air sacs were filled with toxic gas, a dangerous gas that exploded uncontrobly when ignited.

    When the first air sac explodes, the other air sacs all flutter around in the strong wind in the aftermath.

    However, because the stems were already tightly knotted, the air sacs did not fly away.

    The air sacs that moved for a moment are soon dragged by the knotted stem and cling to Shadowless King of the ck Sea.

    Once again, they became the fuel for the gas and firestorms in the atmosphere.

    ...Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom!

    A chain of explosions and mes, it followed the knotted air sacs and began to burn the Shadowless King of the ck Sea in earnest.

    A red-hot flower burning on the ck sea surface.

    The Shadowless King of the ck Sea wants to go down to the bottom of the sea, but it is impossible to do so because of the air sacs that still remain.

    As a result, it''s a fate that leaves itself open to the poisonous gases and mes that float to the surface, where it will slowly cook to death.

    And Vikir watches from a little distance away, on the surface of the water, in a small airbag.

    ''The scale is different from the Daylily I met on the previous stage.''

    The Daylily we met on the 3th floor had been starved to death and hadn''t been able to grow its air sacs properly.

    So instead of looking like a balloon, its stamens were spread out like leaves, and no one realized that it contained a deadly poisonous gas.

    But of course, Vikir had already realized this.

    ''There was a person who organized the Daylily of Blood Tree like this before my regression.''

    Vikir once worked as a special task force member of the Demon Subjugation Task Force.

    There had been a time when a group of soldiers in danger had been forced to flee in secret from a demon army, and these Daylily happened to be blocking their escape route.

    Leading the group was Bianca, the eldest daughter of the Usher family.

    Using her archery skills, she unleashed a powerful bolt of me that exploded all of the monstrous nts.

    This cleared the way, saving Vikir''s life and the lives of many others.

    "...I owe you, Bianca."

    Vikir nodded, watching the tidal wave of mes swirl around it.

    And then.

    -Ding!

    A loud notification sounded in his ears.

    [''Level 1 Warrior'' Vikir has sessfully hunted an ''A+ Ranked Majin'' for the first time!]

    [''Awesome'' achievement reward will be distributed!]

    [''Level 1 Warrior'' Vikir has sessfully hunted the first ''S-ranked Monster, ck Sea Shadowless King'']!

    [The reward for the ''Impossible'' achievement will be distributed!]

    "...I''m done."

    Vikir breathed a sigh of relief.

    At the same time.

    ...Boom!

    A chunk of rotting flesh appeared in front of Vikir''s eyes.

    The fairy who was always characterized by splitting with a bizarre smile.

    ... but for some reason, this time was different.

    It looked at Vikir, almost sobbing.

    [ Wh at are you, why are you do ing th is to me? ]

 Chapter 329: Draw (1)

    <h4>Chapter 329: Draw (1)</h4>

    Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro looked at the fairy and sneered flirtatiously.

    "Fairy-shesh, you always show up at the most amazing timing."

    "Look at you crying. It seems like everything that has umted so far is being released."

    "Dumbass."

    True to the triplets'' words, the fairy was now howling ugly.

    [ Wh at are you, why are you do ing th is to me, do you th ink yo u''re go ing to get rid of me by eat ing me all ov er the pl ace ? ]

    Vikir rested his chin for a moment.

    Before his regression, he had read in the memoirs of great heroes that the rtionship between Amdusias and the fairy of the Abyss was as follows.

    The rtionship between a department store and the brand name stores within it.

    Amdusias expands and erges the interior space, drawing many people into the Hell Tree.

    And the fairies take charge of managing sections within the tower and conduct various sales(?) against challengers.

    ... However, having been inside the tower myself, Vikir has a slightly different interpretation.

    The rtionship between the casino and the gamblers who work in it.

    In other words, the Tower of Amdusias is a giant casino, and the fairies are professional gamblers who gamble inside it.

    Like gamblers, fairies have to win every time they y.

    Just as no casino in the world is designed to ensure that the customer ultimately wins money, the same is true for the stages and missions within the Tower.

    The fairy is usually betting that the challenger will fail toplete the mission and die a miserable death.

    This takes away the candy they have had since they were born.

    To keep the game from beingpletely unbnced, they set up cleverly designed traps so that the process of steadily and diligently growing and killing challengers doesn''t feel unreasonable.

    ''For example, things like perfume and cosmetics are intentionally left in ruins, random boxes are mixed with Mimics, the ck Sea is non-buoyant, and drinking too much Hell Tree sap can lead to demonization....''

    As challengers struggle and die in these traps, their reputation grows.

    asionally, whenpensation was given, they did not hesitate to steal a portion of it and embezzle it, thereby umting it illegally.

    But. Vikir''s suspicions and judgment saw through most of their traps.

    This was partly due to the information he''d been hearing before his regression, but mostly due to his seasoned instincts and intuition.

    Therefore, the fairy was now wailing in frustration like a casino dealer who had lost a series of bad bets.

    [Ugh ah ah? Am I go ing to go bank rupt if I ke ep go ing li ke th is ? ]

    One more challenger like Vikir and the fairy will probably go bankrupt.

    Urrrrr-

    Judging by the number of candies the fairy was spewing out of its mouth, anyone would have thought that.

    -<Strange Candy> / Level / Golden

    A candy that raises your level by 1.

    Tastes sweet.

    -Level +1

    A golden candy that increases your level by 1. It is worth 300 regr candies.

    Over two dozen such golden candies fell from the sky.

    Vikir collected them all.

    ''I need to collect 100 golden candies before going to a certain stage section.''

    The goal is to reach level 100 in one go. Until then, stay at level 1 and maximize the rewards.

    With all six stats in bloom, it wasn''t necessary to spin the candy gacha anymore.

    ''Now I need to collect golden candies and continue to improve my three primary stats.''

    By doing so, Vikir would be able to make up for his ck of battle experience'' once and for all, an experience that could only be gained by crossing countless lines.

    [Only those who, having stepped into the realm of the supreme, continue to struggle with the same spirit as when they first grasped the sword, have anything to gain].

    These are the "Eight Forms of Baskerville," as CaneCorso called it.

    A desperate need to survive, a lust for life, and extreme practical experience.

    Vikir was on the seventh before entering the Abyss Tower, and was able to forge a small eighth tooth.

    ''...Technically, it would be 7.5 form.''

    In fact, if it is 7, it is 7, and if it is 8, it is 8. It is a little strange that there is an intermediate stage.

    There should be a 7.25 or a 7.75 if you want to go that route.

    It''s just a shame that there''s no way to express this subtleck of a number.

    ''If I were to max out my stats and levels and then leave the tower... I could probably get to a full 8th Form without the saint''s buffs.''

    After speaking with CaneCorso, he could definitely make the faint clues he''d been able to pick up his own.

    Perhaps then he could one day reach the unattainable 9th Form.

    ... Right then.

    -Ding!

    A now familiar notification sound struck everyone''s ears.

    <Mission End> �C Number of Survivors: 76

    �� As soon as theteer clears the mission, the firsters will be reverse summoned out of the tower.

    �� Ship owners eligible for reverse summons are limited to those who have cleared the mission.

    There''s a subtle additional exnation that''s a bit different from the previous one.

    At the same time, a window popped up in front of everyone announcing thepletion of the mission.

    <Mission Complete> �C Capture the Sap Pool!

    �� Steal the sap nd from the scary ship owners and survive!

    <Mission End> �C Build a ship and cross the ck Sea!

    ��Avoid the ''ck Sea Shadowless King''!

    <Mission Failure> �C Kill all the living things!

    -Survivor (0/77)

    ��What''s the point of being a Majin if you don''t go on a rampage? Let''s prove how strong you''ve be! Oh, and the rewards are pretty good, right?

    The mission window above is obviously for students of Colosseo Academy, but the ones below are a little different.

    It seemed to be a mix of those of the Insectking race and those of Dogma, who had be a Majin.

    The Insectking race wept tears of gratitude and turned to Vikir.

    [Thank you, thank you, thank you, now we can go back to where we came from!]

    They had been brought here for a very long time.

    Their suffering was so great that all 50+ Insectking fell to the ground and kissed the backs of Vikir''s hands and feet.

    <The ship owners will be recalled>

    <Do you agree to the reverse summons?>

    Then, a message shed before the Insectking'' eyes.

    [Finally! We''re finally leaving this damned tower!]

    [Oooh! It''s all thanks to the Savior!]

    [We will definitely repay this favor when we leave! Thank you!]

    All the Insectking race chose to leave the tower.

    And then.

    ...pasag!

    A pir of light suddenly fell from the sky and enveloped the more than 50 Insectking.

    They literally disappeared in an instant.

    The triplets mouths watered at the sight.

    "Damn. I don''t know if I envy them or not."

    "Yes. After all, this tower is thend of opportunity."

    "Still, I feel for those guys. It looks like they''ve been stuck here for a long time."

    Then. Vikir walked forward.

    "...."

    Vikir began to stare at the ground where the Insectking had disappeared.

    Then, Vikir picked something up off the sandbar.

    It was a long strand of white hair.

    It was probably a beard that had fallen off the bodies of the Elders.

    The tip of the strand was burnt ck.

    "...Did they really leave the tower?"

    Vikir''s quiet muttering sends a chill down everyone''s spine.

    The pir of light and noise that had just fallen were clearly far from the sound of moving through space.

    Of course, it could be some other unknown type of teleportation magic, but....

    "Temptation is everywhere, and unless it''s earned with your own blood, it''s best to be suspicious."

    Vikir also spoke with an uneasy feeling.

    Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro, who stood behind him, nodded with heavy expressions.

    Then.

    "Uh, over there...."

    A creeping voice came from behind them.

    Vikir turned to see a group of twenty or so Commoner students standing there, looking pale.

    "Oh, we just wanted to apologize for what happened earlier...."

    "We were just doing what Dogma told us to do...."

    "We didn''t mean any harm, really, we''re sorry...."

    Everyone looks at Vikir.

    It''s only natural.

    He''d single-handedly defeated over 50 Insectking, in a Majin, and even overturned an S-ranked jellyfish monster.

    Even the fairies had to admit it. If they were to go up against Vikir, they would be bankrupt.

    There was no way anyone could go against Vikir under these circumstances.

    So themoner students humbled themselves as if they were worms and begged for forgiveness.

    However, Vikir''s response was short and dry.

    "Why are you apologizing to me?"

    "...?"

    "I think the street number is wrong."

    Vikir shrugged and turned away.

    There stood the triplets, Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro.

    "...hic."

    The blood drained from the Commoner students'' faces.

    Forgiveness is reserved for the offended party.

    Criminals usually apologize and show remorse only to those who have the power to decide their punishment, such as guards and judges.

    But they never apologize to their victims. A contradiction in terms.

    The students, who had never understood why criminals would grovel and repeat their apologies only in front of a judge, understood why when they found themselves in such a situation.

    ''At this point, we have no choice but to beg for our lives from Vikir.''

    ''There''s no way the Highbro, Midbrw, and Lowbro will ever forgive us.''

    ''They''ll kill us, and even if they make a thousand concessions and let us live, they''ll cripple us.''

    ''...Let''s go to Vikir and beg as much as we can.''

    This is because they do not truly reflect and only worry about their own disadvantages.

    Feelings of shame and self-loathing appeared on the faces of all the students who were newly aware of this fact.

    They spoke to Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro in a croaking voice.

    "I, I''m sorry, guys...."

    "I will dly ept any retaliation. sorry."

    "I''m begging you. Please. End it with me. As for the family outside the tower...."

    The Commoner students knelt down on the sandbar and buried their heads in their hands.

    Then, Highbro stepped forward.

    Everyone flinched with each step Highbro took.

    Then, as Highbro stepped in front of the Commoners, he did somethingpletely unexpected.

    Shuffle.

    Highbro bent down to one knee and stood at eye level with the Commoners.

    "So far, I have a good understanding of what you have been subjected to by the aristocracy."

    "...?"

    "Our brothers, too, would have made you feel unknowingly wronged until they were trapped inside the tower."

    At Highbro''s words, the Commoner students'' faces rxed into a nk stare.

    Next to him, Midbro and Lowbro walked over and dropped to one knee.

    "But inside the tower, we must stand together."

    "The opponent is a demon, and the distinction between aristocracy, barons, andmoners is irrelevant. There are only ''humans'' left."

    At the words of Midbro and Lowbro, the Commoner students stared nkly.

    The Highbro finally concluded.

    "I forgive you all for what you have done to us. Forgive us for what we did to you before you were locked in the tower."

    At this point, several students burst into tears.

    The others, who were not weeping, fell silent, shook their heads, and were speechless.

    ''So this is it. This is what Dogma couldn''t get to the end.''

    Everyone seemed to feel the same way. Though they couldn''t quite put their finger on what it was.

    Meanwhile. Vikir, who had been listening to the triplets in silence, nodded.

    ''...The mindset is in the right ce.''

    It wasn''t some noble phrase like ''forgive the offender and be merciful''.

    In a age of destruction, the distinction between noble and noble,moner andmoner is meaningless.

    Only demons and humans. Only two ck and white logics remain.

    The only way to survive against the demons is for humans to unite and work together.

    The triplets had already realized this, if only vaguely.

    It looked quite different from before Vikir''s regression.

    At that very moment.

    [ Chall enger ?]

    The fairy who had disappeared had suddenly sneaked up beside Vikir.

    It began to make a strange suggestion.

    [You ha ve be en rack ing up an impress ive li st of aplish ments sin ce yo ur st ga me, and you are so prodigi ously talent ed that yo ur mun dane m i s s i o n s are no long er fun ? ]

    Vikir listened, wondering if it was some kind of trick.

    Sure enough, the fairy began to make a strange, unheard-of deal.

    [ Wh at I me an, can''t you ju st dr aw all the ne xt flo ors bef ore us ?]

 Chapter 330: Draw (2)

    <h4>Chapter 330: Draw (2)</h4>

    [ Wh at I me an, can''t you ju st dr aw all the ne xt flo ors bef ore us ? ]

    The fairy''s suggestion was outrageous.

    Vikir is currently on the 4th floor, on an ind in the ck Sea.

    The next level he would encounter would be the 5th, and then the 6th.

    But the fairy wants to make all of these levels a draw.

    [ See wh at I me an ? ]

    The point is this.

    As Vikir goes down the floor, he will clear all the hidden stages, and there is a high possibility that he will monopolize all the monsters ced so that he cannot be caught and the hidden pieces that are ced not to be obtained.

    After receiving the continuous special rewards, it is clear that he will be a power beyond the standard.

    So the fairies were willing to let him skip a good portion of the floors under their jurisdiction in exchange for an average stage-clearing reward.

    "So as long as I y nice, you''ll let me get to a certain section quickly, without wasting any time?"

    [ Is that right? Is that what it is? ]

    "What are you going to give me?"

    At those words, the fairy folded two of its twelve fingers and extended the other ten.

    Vikir understood immediately.

    "Ten golden candies."

    [ yes ? ]

    The fairy nodded nervously. Then it added one morement.

    [ Ple ase ju st ta ke a lo ok ? If th is conti nues , wi ll I re ally go bank rupt ? ]

    Then Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro shouted out.

    "You bastard, where are youing from, our lord does notpromise with such an easy path!"

    "He does notpromise!"

    "He does notpromise!"

    But the triplets'' determined cries fell on deaf ears.

    "Use more."

    Vikir was intrigued by the fairy''s deal.

    "How many floors do you think you''re sending me to, and you''re only giving me ten golden candies?"

    [ That that that that ... ... can it be a lit tle bit mo re ?]

    Vikir added to the stuttering fairy.

    "I''ve had enough of the candy. I have an item I want, can you get me one?"

    Up until now, Vikir had always said candy was the best, but he had never needed an item.

    Items that he couldn''t take out of the tower had always been low on his reward priority list.

    It was a bit unusual that Vikir was now asking for items,

    [ Wh at it em do you ne ed ? ]

    The fairy asked in a questioning tone, and Vikir answered firmly.

    "A scale of forced equality."

    Vikir says the exact name of the item he wants.

    Hearing that, the fairy looked puzzled.

    [ Is that a hid den pie ce that can on ly be fou nd on the 3rd flo or of the under ground ? Oops ? ]

    For a moment, the fairy closed its mouth, not wanting to speak.

    But Vikir had already gotten the information from the fairy''s stutter.

    "I see, the item can be found on the 3rd floor of the underground, in the area with the Daylily of Blood."

    [ Haha, but that''s already the 3rd floor, right ? ]

    The fairy was relieved that Vikir had already passed the 3rd underground level.

    The ''Scales of Forced Equality'' is a Hidden Piece that drops only on the 3rd underground level, guarded by the Daylily of Blood, so if you don''t get it early on, you''re done for.

    However.

    "In case you forgot, this is given to all who challenge the tower."

    Vikir pulled out a piece of paper.

    -<Return Scroll> / Scroll / Rank: ?

    A scroll that allows you to return to the Tutorial Zone for one time only.

    The answer to the question ''Lord, where are you going?'' is written.

    ��Using it will reset your level

    It was a scroll to return to the Tutorial Zone.

    A one-time use item that allows you to start over from the first floor of the underground.

    Vikir''s level is 1 anyway, so it''s not a big deal. The scroll doesn''t reset his stats.

    Vikir spoke in a menacing tone.

    "Thanks for the information. I''ll use this scroll to return to the tutorial floor, and once again, I''ll devour all the tricks and hidden pieces I came this far to find. Of course, I''ll have to stop by the third floor as well, because I need to find the Scales of Forced Equality."

    [ Hic ? ]

    The fairy realized that it had been tricked and sulked.

    Finally, with a sullen expression, the fairy dug into its bosom and pulled out a thick booklet.

    <Item Catalog-Hidden Piece Edition

    1. Demon Calling Flute (Stock: 8) �C 500 Red Candies

    2. Retribution Iron Armor (Stock: 3) �C 250 green candies

    3. Super Regeneration Potion (Stock: 15) �C 400 blue candies

    4. Sneaky Pickpocket''s Gloves (Stock: 5) �C 50 green candies, 50 blue candies

    5. Sword of Ten Thousand Swings Two-Handed (Stock: 2) �C 1,000 red candies, 800 blue candies

    6. Hourss of Lust (Stock: 1) �C 1 golden candy.

    .

    .

    A paperback booklet containing a number of rare items.

    In between was a description of the item Vikir had mentioned.

    <Item Catalog-Hidden Piece Edition>

    203. Scales of Forced Equality (Stock: 0) �C 20 Golden Candies

    An item with an incredibly high price tag. The number of golden candies required is 20.

    [ More over , th ere are 0 ite ms in sto ck ? ]

    The fairy looked very disappointed.

    But Vikir was adamant.

    "I''m sure there''s more than enough."

    [ Wh at ? No way ? ].

    "I''m not asking for it, I''m paying for it."

    Vikir held out all 20 of the golden candies he''d gotten earlier.

    Plus a few extra candies from themoner students.

    [ Hmmm ? ]

    The fairy began to look troubled.

    Vikir added a threat in a low voice.

    "I''ll use a return scroll and devour all the Hidden Pieces on every floor, and then I''llin to the higher-upster. I think the person in charge of the fourth floor embezzled the hidden pieces, so please conduct an inventory investigation."

    [ Ah, do I under stand ? Do you wa nt me to se ll it ? I ju st ne ed to se ll it , rig ht ? ]

    The fairy cried and took the candies from Vikir.

    And soon, the pages of the catalog slowly turn.

    What he thought was a single page was actually two pages, cleverly stuck together.

    With a murderous look on it face, the fairy tore off one of the catalog pages and handed it to Vikir.

    <Item Catalog-Hidden Piece Edition

    203. Scale of Forced Equality (Stock: 0) �C 20 Golden Candies

    �� Vendor Comment: A Hidden Piece that can only be obtained on the 3rd floor of the tower.

    It has a pretty good ability, but is rarely used due to its poor price-performance ratio.

    It''s pretty much useless in the early game and onlyes into its own in thete game, but it''s safe to say that no one will survive thetter half of the game with this item in their possession.

    Ok.

    ...peong!

    With a loud sound, the page in Vikir''s hand is transformed into an item.

    -<Scale of Forced Equality> / Scales / S

    Your stats change ording to the value of your highest stat.

    The values ??of all stats gradually and slowly increase ording to the value of the highest stat, and this change continues until the values ??of all stats be the same.

    The scale looks quite ominous at first nce, with its skull-shaped weights and embossed scale tes.

    However, the description reveals that it''s actually a pretty good stats item.

    For example, if your strength stat is 10 and all other stats are 1, if you possess this scale, all of your stats will gradually increase over time along with the strength stat''s 10.

    After a very long time, when all stats reach 10, the scale will be destroyed.

    However, the time it took for the stats to increase was so long that the item was ultimately useless unless you were willing to spend years in the tower.

    Knowing this, the fairy hesitated before epting Vikir''s offer.

    Then.

    "Hmm? This?"

    As Vikir ced the item in his hand, he noticed a small note enclosed.

    It was about the ''proper'' way to obtain this item.

    <Item Catalog �C Hidden Piece Edition>

    203. Scales of Forced Equality (Stock: 0) �C 20 Golden Candies

    Item requirements: Challengers who have encountered the Daylily of Blood must vote to sacrifice one person per day.

    However, the order in which sacrifices are selected is not from weak to weak, but from strong to strong.

    Unintentionally, I even learned how to obtain the items.

    ''So this is how it drops.''

    Before his regression, Vikir had learned of the item''s existence from the memoirs of the tower''s former heroes.

    There was a viin who had been disrupting order in the tower, a viin who had been unnoticed in the early days of the tower, but who had risen to prominenceter in the tower.

    The heroes of the time investigated how the viin had gained such power and soon discovered the existence of this item.

    But no matter how much they researched, they couldn''t figure out how to get it, and now Vikir understood why.

    ''The method of acquisition must be so gruesome that no one could have gotten it.''

    It was amazing that before the regression, there had been just one person who had gotten this item.

    And now.

    The fairy grumbled and said.

    [ Are you afraid you''re going to be taken to the 5th floor of the underground? Different fairies from the next floor? So, more vicious upper managers have emerged? It''s scary, isn''t it? Do you know that you have been fortunate enough to have met me until now ? ]

    The fairy opened its mouth and a gate to the 5th floor appeared before everyone''s eyes.

    Only one person could enter at a time, and it was clear that they would all end up in different ces.

    [ Go in one by one ? ]

    The fairy looked at all the challengers, but only focused on Vikir.

    Then it spoke, almost inaudibly.

    [It was dirty because we were together? Let''s not see each other again ? ]

 Chapter 331: The Mating Room (1)

    <h4>Chapter 331: The Mating Room (1)</h4>

    With the sound of waves hitting the sandbar and breaking into foam.

    [It was dirty because we were together? Let''s not see each other again ? ]

    A fairy''s voice echoes in my ears.

    -Ding!

    [You have left the underground 4th floor ''Ind in the ck Sea'']

    [You have left the underground 5th floor ''Martyr Desert'']

    [You have left the underground 6th floor ''Flooded Forest Submerged Zone'']

    [You have left the underground 7th floor ''Snail Slime Ruins'']

    [You have left the underground 8th floor ''Remains of the Headhunters'']

    [Entered the underground 9th floor ''Ryu Majin (Demonic Dragon)''s Laboratory'']

    At the same time, Vikir felt his body slide downward.

    ''Is this what it feels like to skip four floors at once?''

    A chill ran down his spine from the bottom of his groin to the top of his head, the kind of sensation you get when you go down an elevator in a tall castle, or on a ride that drops you from the top down, or when you train to jump off a cliff.

    Vikir''s vision in front of him changed rapidly, and several bloody scenes passed by like a panorama.

    A desert where the temperature is so high and dry that nothing remains except sand and burned trees.

    Tall trees rising in dense clusters and swamps that were waist deep.

    Ruined cities covered in grotesque slime.

    Ancient civilizations overrun by savage cannibals.

    After passing through them, Vikir finally fell through a gate into the 9th level of the underground.

    From here on out, the area would be controlled not by fairies, but by their superiors.

    ...Thud!

    As soon as Vikir hit the ground, he rolled on the floor to minimize the impact.

    When he looked up, he saw something strange.

    A rectangr room surrounded by translucent walls.

    Therge interior space was half-filled with fluffy sawdust.

    The wood chips that had been cut to the size of a fingernail were as thin as pieces of paper.

    There were so many of them piled up that it felt cozy and fluffy.

    There was arge bowl in the corner with several red, green, and blue candies rolling around.

    Across from it was a pipe dripping with water, and off to the side was arge hamster wheel that you could run around in.

    It looked like...

    [It looks like a hamster farm.]

    [hack-hack-]

    Decarabia and the Madame cub said a word each.

    Vikir could only nod.

    If it''s narrow, it''s narrow. If it''s wide, it''s wide. Sawdust piled up quite high. Waterer in feed trough. Even treadmills.

    No matter where you look, it is a hamster breeding farm.

    Papapapapak-

    Just as a hamster digs sawdust and builds a den, Vikir did the same.

    A den on a sawdust hill ramp made by instinct.

    When he went inside andid down, he felt cozy and warm.

    ''By the way, the floor is called Laboratory.''

    An aviary set up by a Ryumajin for experiments.

    Presumably a ce to grow and breed things for experiments.

    Vikir quickly recalled the description of this floor from the records of the heroes he had read before his regression.

    ''The home of the Ryumajin, the descendants of the dragon kin who joined forces with the demon. An existence that even the lowest levels dare not confront.''

    This ce is basically a researchb, aboratory. Run by an absolute being.

    Just as humans keepb rats in cages, there is always a cage in ab orboratory.

    ''...I''ve heard it before. A ce where all Challengers will randomly encounter at some point in time. A ce where research is conducted using the precursor creatures that exist on every floor of the tower. Aboratory where boss and normal monsters are bred and breed to create subspecies, subsraces, and variants for the stages.''

    This floor doesn''t have to be the 9th floor. Someone might enter from the 2nd floor, someone might enter from the 13th floor, and someone might enter from a floor even further down.

    But one thing is for sure: the difficulty of the missions on this floor is "all or nothing".

    It''s either extremely easy or extremely difficult.

    Vikir flexed his hands and mmed them against the translucent wall in front of him.

    ...Boom!

    As expected, the wall was solid.

    It would be impossible to break it unless you were a master.

    [Also. There was a part of me that believed in fairies. They seem to have thought that sending us right here would put the brakes on us.]

    Decarabia was right.

    If Vikir had just taken his time and broken through the fifth, sixth, seventh, and eighth floors, he would have gotten a muchrger reward, and the fairies would have gone bankrupt.

    "The gamblers who were frightened by the newbie''s undefeated streak invited him to a game where they would win."

    [If that''s not it, then I don''t know what is. They''veid out the deck very well].

    Within this, Bikir was perfectly trapped. He was like a rat in a poisonous trap, or a hamster in a cage.

    "...No hurry."

    You can''t break down this wall even if you go on a rampage.

    Vikir, who already knew this from the memoirs of heroes, began to stroll leisurely around the cage.

    Over a knee-deep mound of sawdust, past feeders, waterers, and wheelbarrows, he came upon a high wall.

    Vikir pressed his face against it.

    Then, beyond the translucent wall, the scenery outside the aviary began to be vaguely visible.

    "...Is it an ancientnguage?"

    There were signs in thenguage of the long-extinct Magic Kingdom.

    Vikir stumbled over the words on the signs, using what little knowledge he had from his liberal arts sses.

    <Incubation Room>

    <Gathering Room>

    <Spawn Room>

    <Blood Collection room>

    <Fighting Room>

    .

    .

    And behind the signs were rows of cages, each with translucent walls.

    They looked simr to the ce where Vikir was currently being held.

    In what wasbeled an incubation room, numerous unidentified eggsy.

    Under the gloomy lighting, the veins on the outside of the eggshell are pulsing and pulsating as if they are about to hatch at any moment.

    In what wasbeled the gathering room, creatures that had apparently been captured from each floor scurried about.

    Bugs, wild beasts, flying beasts, fish, crustaceans, and more... There were a few Insectking among them, but judging from the fact that they were all sitting in the corner of the Gathering Room with nk expressions, they seemed to have already lost their minds.

    In the areabeled as the Spawn Room, a number of seemingly pregnant creatures were taking a breather and preparing to give birth.

    Everyone''s stomachs were grotesquely swollen, probably because they had been injected with some kind of strange drug.

    In a ce marked as a blood collection room, numerous monsters were being desated like mummies and their blood was being drawn.

    They are all subjects who long for death at any moment and are in a situation worse than death.

    "...."

    But it was the room opposite that caught Vikir''s attention the most.

    In a ce marked as a fighting room, numerous monsters were fighting with their teeth, ws, and horns as if they were going to kill each other.

    kwakwang! uleuleung...!

    Judging by the amount of echoes generated, it seems that they are not all normal.

    They were fighting so desperately, as if they believed that only thest one standing could escape this indestructible space.

    Beyond that, there are various other cages with unreadable inscriptions on them.

    Vikir''s current cell was just one of them.

    ''So what is this room for?''

    Vikir lifted his head and looked up.

    Sure enough, there was a sign above the cage.

    Vikir stammered over the vague words.

    "... Mating Room?"

    Mating (��β). The sexual act of a male and female for the purpose of reproduction.

    ''I see. Aboratory where monsters captured from the world outside the tower were mated and bred to produce various subspecies, subraces, and variant second generations.''

    Humans run these kinds of facilities for their domesticated animals, too.

    But it was still a thrill to be dropped into it.

    In the other mating room next to his, a few creatures were wandering around nervously.

    But there was one difference between the mating room with the other creatures and the one with Vikir.

    ''Why am I here alone?''

    Vikir thought for a moment.

    Of course, he couldn''t mate alone. There must be a female individual here to mate with.

    But Vikir is the only human in this aviary.

    ''Surely there must be a passenger who was trapped here before me....''

    If there is a woman who came here before Vikir, he may be able to get information from her.

    About what they need to get out of here.

    ''But that''s a best-case scenario.''

    ''Worst case scenario, the woman here is already insane or full of malice.''

    Who knows what horrible experiences she may have had on her way here.

    ''It is highly likely that his normal personality and values ??have already copsed.''

    It would be impossible to stay sane in this tower without a heroic mindset.

    So Vikir kept a close eye on his surroundings.

    You never know when a sword mighte out of hiding.

    But.

    Vikir soon realized that he was wrong.

    Zeeeeeee-ing.

    A gate suddenly opened down the hill from where Vikir stood.

    And a person jumps out of it, rolling on the ground.

    "Ouch- where am I?"

    Rubbing her head, the person getting up was clearly a cloaked female student from Colosseo Academy.

    Vikir couldn''t help but sigh a little as he saw that familiar face looking around with an anxious expression.

    ''...Was I the passenger?''

 Chapter 332: The Mating Room (2)

    <h4>Chapter 332: The Mating Room (2)</h4>

    -Ding!

    [9th underground floor, ''Dragon Majin''s Laboratory'' -Mating ce/Object code 12B-S73062190/Human/ssification: 1 pair]

    [Conditions for 2 people have been met]

    [Creating a mating environment]

    [1st time limit 10:00:00]

    .

    .

    Unidentified notification sounds rang out loudly.

    However, the girl in the center of the warren didn''t seem to understand the situation.

    "Humans? Mating? What does this mean? There are no fairies here...."

    She brushes the sawdust out of her white hair with her hands.

    Eyes as big as a deer, face as gentle as a puppy. The cloak she wears, symbolizing the first year of Colosseo Academy, is torn and stained with blood.

    Sinir, Bourgeois J Sinir.

    She stood on the sawdust of the warrens here.

    "...."

    Vikir hunkered down on the hill and thought for a moment.

    But there was no way to hide all the way in the barely spacious warren.

    What''s more, Sinir would soon realize that there was a two-person limit to the warren.

    ''We''ll have to hold hands.''

    After assessing the situation, Vikir turned to Sinir.

    "Hey. Here."

    "...!?"

    Hearing Vikir''s voice, Sinir instantly crouched down and assumed an alert stance.

    Her face was as rigid as ever, a sign of the trouble she''d been through in the tower.

    But Sinir''s expression quickly softened when she realized it was Vikir''s voice calling her.

    She broke into a wide smile and started to run.

    "Brother, My brother, fell here too! Ah, ah ... Isn''t this something you''ll like... I guess I was so excited for a moment because I saw a familiar face."

    "Did you also go through hellhounds and blood daylily?"

    "...Yes. You too?"

    Sinir was happy to see Vikir, but regardless of her expression, signs of hardship were evident all over her body.

    Her clothes were stained with blood, and she had lost a lot of weight.

    She seemed to have suffered more in her mind than in her body.

    Vikir wondered how many levels Sinir had warped from.

    "Did you meet with the Shadowless King of the ck Sea?"

    "No? What level of mission is that? I came over from the 5th floor."

    Apparently, Sinir had done a different mission on the same floor as Vikir.

    "What was the mission on the fifth floor?"

    Vikir asks, and Sinir suddenly pauses.

    She hesitated, and then looked at Vikir.

    "It was...."

    Just as she was about to open her mouth.

    A loud bang!

    Suddenly, the cage shook once.

    "...!?"

    Vikir quickly jumped up and ran down the hill.

    He looked around to find the source of this sudden earthquake.

    ... thump! ... rumbling, rumbling, rumbling!

    The loud noises and vibrations were definitelying from the mating room next door.

    "...What is that?"

    Sinir came to stand beside Vikir, his expression a mixture of wariness and wonder.

    They peered over the translucent wall into the other kennel.

    There, two enormous mantises stood in sharp confrontation.

    <Giant Mantis>.

    Danger Rating: A

    Size: 8 to 16 meters

    Found in: Red and ck Mountains, Ridge 4

    -Nicknamed ''Giant Mantis'' or ''Life Harvester''

    Using its giant scythe-like forelimbs, the Mantis is capable of shing at anythingrger than itself.

    At full-grown size, the Mantis'' scythe is a formidable weapon against even a Graduator-ss swordsman, and the female''s is more than twice asrge and sturdy as the male''s.

    After mating, the female will eat the male.

    A huge female mantis and a small male mantis.

    As if they had just been dragged into the enclosure, these two creatures brandish the scythes of their forelegs to keep each other in check.

    Sinir cocked her head.

    "What is that, and why are two mantises fighting over there?"

    "...."

    Vikir thought about telling Sinir the purpose of the warren, but decided against it.

    In the meantime, the two mantis were still spewing flesh at each other.

    Neither the female nor the male seemed to like the other.

    But then.

    ...poof!

    Something happened.

    -Ding!

    [Creating a mating environment]

    [2nd Time Limit 00:00:00]

    A warning sound indicates that the time limit has expired, and a blue mist emanates from every corner of the warren.

    swiiiiig-

    The blue mist swirled around the bodies of the two mantis, who were locked in a tense struggle.

    And then something amazing happened.

    Shhhhhh.

    The smaller male was rapidly approaching therger female.

    The odds of them mating were close to zero, based on their previous hostility.

    It was clear that the male would soon be torn to shreds by the flesh-spewing scythe of the female.

    But.

    For some reason, she didn''t block his approach.

    In fact, she even turned her body halfway around so that her back and buttocks would be morefortable for him to ride behind her.

    ''Is that blue mist an aphrodisiac?''

    Vikir set his chin in thought.

    Apparently, the mist was meant to spray when the time limit was up.

    -Ding!

    [Underground Level 9, Dragon Majin''s Laboratory -Mating Site/Object Code 010M-M9902/Giant Mantis/ssification: 1 Pair]

    [Biorhythm: Unbnced]

    [Physical condition: active]

    [Mating status: possible].

    .

    .

    Another flurry of beeps.

    The two mantis began to breathe harsh, unsteady breaths, and soon they were tangled in each other''s arms violently.

    Two giant worms indulging each other with bloodshot eyes.

    But.

    [...shhhh!?]

    The smaller male was more susceptible to the effects of the aphrodisiac mist, but therger female seemed to resist it fairly well.

    pudeudeudeug!

    The female shook her head to clear it, and then pped the male on her back with her wings, knocking him off.

    The male sprawled on the ground and tried to get back up, but she was having none of it and stabbed him with her scythe.

    Koo-koo-koo-koo...

    Giant Mantis are enemies in their own right and top predators in the ck Mountains.

    Their physical prowess rivals that of a Graduator-ss knight, and they areparable to Masters in terms of strength and the sharpness of their scythes.

    Their mental prowess is so great that countless mages of the mental realm have attempted to tame them and failed.

    Is that why? Fully grown, the massive female spreads her wings, clearing away all the blue mist, and lunges at the male.

    She would not mate with such an inferior individual, not even in death.

    Just then.

    -Ding!

    [Entering mating environment]

    [Begins third attempt]

    .

    .

    Another external intervention has begun.

    ...Swoosh!

    The ceiling, which was filled with darkness, opened, and two giant hands shot out.

    The backs of the hands covered in blue scales, fingers with sharp nails at the ends.

    They grabbed the two struggling mantis, one each, and began to squeeze them down.

    They grabbed the hips of the female mantis as she struggled, swinging her scythe, and then grabbed the hips of the male mantis as he struggled to escape.

    Like a violent trainer forcing a dog to mate, the female is held down and the male is squeezed in front of a huge, irresistible force.

    And with that, the mating of the two mantis is over.

    The blue hand slipped back through the darkness of the ceiling as if it had no regrets.

    The overwhelmed male fell to the floor and began to shiver, while the female, who had been stressed to the breaking point, slit his throat with her scythe.

    ..ujeog-ujeog-ujeog!

    The female mantis then proceeded to chew on the severed head of the male mantis.

    And then the severed neck, chest, stomach, intestines, and toes.

    Shhhhhhhh.

    The blue mist waspletely gone.

    When the female mantis had finished eating the male mantis, she wandered around the enclosure on her own, until she was picked up by the blue hand that reappeared and carried to the other side of the room.

    It was a room that had beenbeled "spawning room" on a sign earlier.

    Next to the spawning room where the forcibly impregnated female mantis had been transferred, another spawning room was already piled high with monster eggs that had undergone a simr process.

    A truly horrifying sight.

    "...This is a scary ce."

    Vikir muttered in a low voice.

    Now he understood. Why the fairies had sent him down here.

    A ce to fight to the death, to mate to the death, to give birth to the death, to be bled to the death, to be caged to the death.

    It was a terrifying ce where all animals and nts, including humans, were reduced to experimental livestock.

    Vikir recalled what he had known about this floor before his regression.

    ''... Doesn''t look easy at all. All or nothing, this one.''

    Turning his head to look up, he sees the same kind of status window floating above the warrens on this side of the room.

    [enters creating mating environment]

    [1st Timeout 09:54:59]

    Even as this happens, that euphemism "timeout" is getting shorter and shorter.

    Apparently, the time limit is only 10 hours.

    If something is not done within that time, there is a high possibility that forced intervention will ur from outside.

    You know, like the "blue hand" that was forcibly snapping the mantis earlier.

    "Whoa... what was that? Is this some kind of cage match where monsters kill each other?"

    Meanwhile, at the clear voice of Sinir, who seemed to not yet fully understand the situation, Vickir had no choice but to ce his hand on his head for a moment.

    ''...How do I exin this?''

 Chapter 333: The Mating Room (3)

    <h4>Chapter 333: The Mating Room (3)</h4>

    Darkness has fallen in the mating room.

    Judging by theck of light beyond the translucent walls, it was either night or the lights had been turned off.

    As a result, the temperature inside the cage began to drop rapidly.

    White frost formed on the walls.

    Furthermore.

    [enters mating environment]

    [1st timeout 00:00:00]]

    [2nd timeout 10:00:00] .

    .

    .

    A light rain began to fall from the darkness of the ceiling.

    It was just enough to moisten the surface of the sawdust, but with the freezing cold around them, it was quite threatening.

    Vikir ducked out of the pouring rain and into the sawdust at the bottom of the hill.

    ''... I wonder if this is primary.''

    The blue mist that had brought the giant mantis to heat earlier was definitely round two.

    Apparently it happens when the time limit for the first round is up.

    ''It was hot and sweaty earlier, but now it''s raining and frosty. What a crazy day.''

    As Vikir was thinking to himself, Sinir, who was squatting next to him, spoke up.

    "Do they want us to freeze to death out here? They''re going to make us sweat and then leave us out in the rain."

    It had been hot in the kennel just moments before, and Sinir was wearing only a ck sleeveless t-shirt on his upper body.

    But even if it had gotten colder, she couldn''t bring herself to put the cloak back on.

    It was already damp from sweat and drizzle.

    ...phut! ... phut!

    When Vikir turned around after vigorously shaking off the water from his clothes, Sinir was just breathing quietly with her head buried between her knees.

    As her breathing gradually became quieter, her physical condition seemed to be not that good.

    ''She''s hypothermic, and she''s going to die if I don''t keep her awake.''

    Vikir moved to Sinir''s side and sat down.

    He spoke to her to keep her awake.

    "What were the missions on the previous floor?"

    "...."

    "Sinir, what were the missions on the previous floor?"

    Vikir asked, shaking her shoulder, and Sinir snapped out of it.

    She shuddered once, then opened her mouth to speak.

    "Ah, on the magic train... to fight each other."

    Sinir said she survived a swarm of hellhounds on the 3rd floor, and made it to the 5th floor after experiencing a Daylily attack on the 4th floor.

    The intervening time was a long one, but it wasn''t particrly odd, as different floors had different notions of time inside the tower.

    "Hellhound and blood daylily, I went through those too."

    "Really? How many days did you endure them?"

    "I didn''t. I caught the Daylily."

    "What, you caught it? Was that something you could catch?"

    Sinir looked genuinely surprised.

    Then she spoke in a hushed voice.

    "We fought it, actually. We couldn''t make the sacrifice... and then the Daylily ate most of the survivors, so the mission was automatically cleared."

    "Maybe that was the best thing that could have happened. Realistically."

    The chances of the Colosseo Academy students catching a Daylily of Blood are slim to none.

    It''s just that Vikir was off-the-charts strong.

    Sinir then turned to the next floor, the 5th.

    "The fifth floor was ... hell, much worse than the 3rd and 4th."

    "What was it?"

    "...."

    Sinir paused for a long moment before answering in a low voice.

    "A killing spree."

    Sinir''s next words were quite shocking.

    "The location was apartment of the magic train. When I came to, everyone was in their seats on the train."

    And then, in front of everyone''s eyes, the mission.

    <Mission> �C A group task of strong friendship! Let''s make our group the best group!

    �� From now on, the 5 closest people will form one group!

    �� If any of the 5 people in a group die, the group will be automatically eliminated and everyone will die!

    ��If you have a weaker friend, be sure to help and protect him or her! The oue is important, but the process is also important! Cooperation is also a criterion for evaluation!

    �� The stats of the dead are automatically absorbed into the stats of the killer!

    �� Try to eliminate all other groups and be thest one standing!

    �� P.S-I intentionally formed groups with people who seemed close to each other^^

    It was a "struggle of all against all" between the survivors.

    Five people in a group. And if you lose even one of them, everyone dies.

    Also, if you kill a member of another group, you can take away all their stats.

    As soon as the mission was announced, several students sprang into action.

    In the blink of an eye, a female student swung an awl and pierced the neck of arge, burly male student next to her.

    He died without so much as a scream, and all of his stats went to her.

    She began attacking other students, using her stats to be as strong as one of the muscr men.

    The trainpartment quickly turned into chaos.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir, who happened to be in a group, worked together to deflect all the iing attacks.

    Once they''d managed to fend off everyone, another mission popped up.

    <Special Mission> �C Even the best groups have their best members, but who is the MVP yer?

    ��It''s a bit futile to win by holding out, right? Don''t make the game too boring.

    ��Congrattions to the five challengers who seem to be getting along so well!

    ��But unfortunately, only one of you can make it through this stage!!!

    ��From now on, we''ll be sending all but one of you to the Daylily Colony on the 4th floor!

    It was the fairy''s stench that made the five close friends into a group in the first ce.

    The five survivors had already bonded over the hellish chatter.

    What''s more, not only were they close to begin with, but they had saved each other''s lives many times over.

    Of the five of them, only one can survive.

    The remaining four will descend into a hell of off-size monsters.

    Sinir smiled bitterly, avoiding Vikir''s gaze.

    "I was the one who made the first move."

    "I understand."

    " ...You find that contemptible, don''t you?"

    "No. No one can me you."

    Vikir spoke in a dry voice.

    Then he spoke.

    "In that situation, it''s right to let the one most capable of surviving live. That''s what I would have done."

    In reality, Vikir had been in situations like this countless times.

    He''d been on the losing end, and he''d survived.

    Sinir stared at Vikir with a puzzled expression on her face.

    Then, in a small voice, she asked.

    " ... If my brother joined, would you have done the same?"

    "Of course."

    "Then you would have survived. You are stronger and wiser than me."

    "That is also true."

    Vikir nodded nonchntly, and Sinir could only smile in response.

    "It''s a strange feeling, like beingforted and a little bit hurt...."

    Sinir hesitated for a moment before continuing.

    "I guess I''ll never be as strong-minded as my brother, no matter how hard I try."

    Sinir finished telling the rest of the story.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir.

    Of the five, only one would survive.

    And it was Sinir who made the first move.

    Sinir had been working hard to distance herself from her friends in anticipation of dropping out of the Academy.

    So, once again, she closed her eyes tightly and cast a powerful spell.

    ...No, she tried.

    But Sinir couldn''t make it work.

    Guilt. Friendship. A tidal wave of unspeakable emotions washed over her, sapping her mana.

    "...So what happened?"

    Vikir continued.

    He couldn''t stay still, or he''d fall asleep, and then he''d really freeze to death.

    Sinir answered with a half-open, half-dazed gaze.

    "Then Tudor spoke."

    In Sinir''s recollection, Tudor had said exactly what Vikir had expected.

    ''In a situation like this, I think it''s only right to let the one with the best chance of survival live.''

    Suddenly, the eyes of Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca all turned to Sinir.

    ''You''re the most brilliant of us all, Sinir, so I think you should go.''

    ''You will get revenge on those demons. With your skills and talent, you can do it.''

    ''I thought of course I should get out. Make sure you survive to get my share!''

    ''... Heh. You realize how you''ve been treating metely? Really reflect on yourself. Where can I find such a good friend?''

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca unanimously voted to save Sinir.

    Hearing this, Vikir nodded.

    ''Of course, you''re right, my thoughts are also influenced by the Tudors before the regression.''

    Tudor, the great hero of the Age of Destruction, always made rational choices.

    However, he sometimes acted irrationally, always sacrificing himself to save others if it involved himself.

    Vikir''s life was once saved by Tudor''s sacrifice in a life-or-death situation.

    Tudor was dying for the first time. Bianca cried out. The warriors of the Humanity Alliance who had survived, but had been grieving for a long time afterward.

    Vikir wondered over and over again why the great hero Tudor had sacrificed himself for the sake of a lowly warrior.

    And then, in the present day, Vikir heard the answer.

    "He said... ''cause that''s what heroes do,'' that idiot."

    Sinir''s eyes narrowed.

    Tudor gave Sinir a thumbs-up with a smirk as he stood there trying not to leave.

    ''Don''t worry. If any circumstances arise, we will use a return scroll.''

    The penalty for which, instead of returning to the tutorial safe zone, all levels would be reset to 1.

    At that, Vikir nodded.

    ''Good thing they all have their scrolls.''

    Scrolls can save your life once in a crisis.

    Resetting your level to 1 is a pain in the ass, but there''s nothing more precious than a life.

    "Yeah. Using a return scroll is a wise choice. Instead of resetting your level, you''ll have the foundation to be stronger. Your stats will remain the same, and you''ll have information about the missions you''ll face, which will make it much easier to be stronger. Of course, once you''ve use the scroll, you''ll be ssified as the tower''s pre-existing creature, so you''ll be destined to create many more victims...hmm?"

    Vikir had to stop mid-sentence.

    "...."

    He turned to the side and saw Sinir curled up in a ball, head bowed, saying nothing.

    Apparently, she had fallen asleep from her tears.

    hic-hic-

    Her breathing has be so soft that it is barely audible anymore.

    Thud.

    Sinir''s head rests on Vikir''s shoulder.

    Her breath, faintly warm, tickled the nape of Vikir''s neck.

    But.

    "Wake up. If you sleep, you die."

    Vikir pped Sinir across the cheeks, relentlessly.

    "Huh, did I fall asleep?"

    Sinir jerked awake and sat up.

    "Thanks, brother, I could''ve frozen to death if I''d messed up. I''ve been feeling warm and sleepy for a while now... But why does my cheek hurt like this?"

    "It''s your mood."

    Sinir nodded at Vikir''s words.

    But once the temperature dropped, there was nothing she could do about it mentally.

    Next, Sinir leaned in and whispered in Vikir''s ear.

    "I''m sorry, brother... I... I think that''s it...."

    There was no more mana to draw. Her body and mind were already exhausted.

    "If only one of us can get out... you... I''ll be fine... I can count on you...."

    But Vikir had already stopped listening to Sinir.

    ''What should I do?''

    Vikir decided to look at the other room on the other side of the wall.

    It was drizzling and frosty in the other room, too.

    "...!"

    Vikir looked over to see what the creatures in the other room were doing.

    They were burrowing deep into the wet sawdust on the outside, then burrowing into the dry sawdust on the inside, and sticking together.

    The creatures, who were basking in each other''s warmth, also huddle together to share their body heat in the face of the cold.

    ''...I wonder if this was the intention of the watering. It''s extremely dark and damp.''

    I could see what the owner of the room was expecting.

    Stripped of rain- and sweat-soaked clothing, Vikir made his way to Sinir''s side.

    As he approached, Sinir''s eyes narrowed and her voice trembled.

    "Bro, brother, what are you going to do....?"

    Vikir answered briefly.

    "I guess I''ll have to live up to expectations."

 Chapter 334: The Mating Room (4)

    <h4>Chapter 334: The Mating Room (4)</h4>

    Sinir J Bourgeois.

    She was still a child. Long hair flowing like the Milky Way down to her waist.

    She looked up at the tall man in front of her and asked,

    ''Father, why do I have to go out?''

    The little girl asked while hugging her teddy bear.

    But the tall man didn''t answer.

    Instead, it was the old butler standing next to him who answered.

    ''When you grow up ande back, everything will be yours.''

    With those words, the little girl left the family home.

    After cutting her long, flowing hair short, she looked back at the back door of the house.

    Everything was still in its ce. Nothing would change even if she left.

    Then. A small shadow flickered high above the family''s building.

    Was it an illusion? Or just a shadow? The hem of a curtain that swayed in the wind?

    No, it wasn''t. It was a tall man. He''s standing there to look down on her final journey.

    That''s what the girl thought.

    ''Why did you abandon me?''

    ''Did you love me?''

    ''Is that why you abandoned me?''

    ''Can I go back to you?''

    ''...Then can you love me again?''

    So many questions, so many footprints in the snow, so many doubts.

    And. at the end of it all, the answer was not a pleasant one.

    [It wouldn''t be a bad idea to weed out useless rtionships at this point. As of this time, all ys have ended.]

    The tall man''s face as an adult was much different from what she remembered as a child.

    He was so tall it was hard to see, but still, the glimpses of gentleness in the center of his bluntness were gone.

    A hideously contorted expression. The bloodshot eyes. And that fierce, demon-like rampage.

    The grown child reverted to the child she had been.

    The child who had been forced to leave her family on the day of the heavy snowfall.

    ''I understand,''

    ''I know you did it because you loved me.''

    And the truth is, you never abandoned me.

    ''I''m back.''

    ''Please love me again.''

    The answer the little girl had been preparing for so long boiled down to one.

    ''... I wanted to see you.''

    But she couldn''t bring herself to say it.

    ''The demon kills.''

    A hound tore through the nightmare, leaping from the depths of the underworld.

    Its gaping mouth and sharp teeth tore at everything before the girl''s eyes.

    ''It''s over. You worthless one.''

    That was thest of the tall man.

    The girl had lost her only family.

    And with that, the only source of record of her existence in the world waspletely lost.

    She was left alone in the world without any ties.

    Now who will testify to her existence?

    By what means should a person who has lost her source reveal herself to the world.

    Esse, Non Videri. ''To exist, but not to be seen''

    From that day forward, the girl became one who exists, but is not seen.

    King of the Bourgeois.

    The girl made up her mind.

    She was determined to see that vicious hound from that day, that nightmare-like mouth and teeth, and those eyes that shined with ominousness.

    * * *

    "...huh!?"

    Sinir gasped, her body jerking awake.

    She must have had a terrible nightmare, but she couldn''t quite remember. Her mind and body were dazed.

    The next thing she knew, she realized she waspletely naked.

    "Kkyaaahh!"

    She quickly covered her hands up and down.

    Then a nonchnt voice came from the back of her neck.

    "You''re awake."

    Sinir turned her head quickly.

    Vikir, also shirtless, was hugging her from behind.

    "Bro, bro, bro, bro, brother? Wh, wh, What is this...?"

    "Maintaining body temperature."

    The voice, still t.

    Sinir could finally take in her surroundings.

    There was sawdust all around Vikir and Sinir, who were naked and close together.

    A burrow dug so deep that the sawdust around them hadn''t been soaked by the rain at all. They weren''t cold because they were buried in the dry sawdust.

    The moisture that had soaked their bodies was long gone.

    Vikir had spread Cerberus''s hide across the center of the wide den and built a small fire.

    Firewood turned to sawdust, and smoke escaped through a vent dug into the den''s ceiling.

    Cerberus''s hide was fireproof, so the fire didn''t spread to the sawdust.

    Vikir had made a small fire in a pouch of Cerberus''s hide, and was tossing dry sawdust into it, little by little.

    He made sure to spread the damp sawdust around to prevent sparks from flying.

    "...ah."

    Sinir suddenly realized what had kept her awake.

    Vikir had done the best he could.

    A cold, dark world. Yet so bright and warm, even with only a single matchstick of fire.

    So was Vikir''s hard body against his back and his tickling breath.

    "Did you have a nightmare?"

    Somehow, the voice that usually sounded so hard and dry in his voice now sounded so soft and sweet.

    Vikir''s words brought Sinir to tears.

    "...Night Hound killed ...my father."

    The more time that passes, the more clearly she remembers the details of the nightmare.

    No, she couldn''t forget it because it had happened to her in the first ce.

    "...I woke up and my father was there. ...He was turned into a demon. ...He used a strange power. ...I wanted to stop him, but I couldn''t because I didn''t have the strength. ...So the night hounds killed him. ...Why, why did this happen. Why."

    Sinir is still babbling, having just woken up.

    But Vikir could make out everything she wanted to say.

    ''I don''t know how to exin it.''

    The families of the demon-possessed are always difficult to deal with.

    A dead man, just a shell of a demon?

    That would only confuse Sinir.

    ''Maybe it''s better to hate me, to loathe me.''

    It might give her a little more motivation to live.

    After all, revenge is a good motivator for humans.

    Wordlessly, Vikir strengthened his arms and pulled Sinir into a tight embrace.

    Bare skin rubbed against bare skin, warmth rising from the friction.

    Sinir shivered and cried.

    A moment.

    A whimper.

    She turned her head to the side.

    Sinir''s lips touched Vikir''s neck.

    Vikir quickly turned his head to the side to avoid it.

    But Sinir didn''t let go, and she began to run her tongue along his neck.

    It was creeping up.

    ''... Holy shit, is it time already?''

    Vikir was momentarily distracted by the status bar.

    Vikir quickly opened the status window in the corner of his vision.

    [Creating mating environment]

    [2nd timeout 00:03:21]

    .

    .

    The air entering his nostrils had be quite sweet for some reason.

    A blue mist that permeates every inch of the sawdust den.

    The time between tending to the fire and pumping mana into Sinir''s body had already passed like this.

    Vikir began to hold his breath.

    ''It''s like a fog that can''t hurt to breathe in....''

    There was nothing particrly harmful about the mist.

    The problem was that it stimted various bodily functions too vigorously.

    No wonder it was used as an estrus fog to promote mating between males and females.

    -Ding!

    [Human 2 (��) is ready to mate]

    [Human 1 (��) is still not ready to mate]

    The sound of humans being treated strictly as livestock.

    This is exactly what happens in a Ryumajin''s mating room.

    Sinir turned towards Vikir.

    Then, blowing out a breath of hot air, she said.

    "Brother, I have no family anymore. I''m all alone in the world."

    "...."

    "So I want to make a family, if it''s you... if it''s you."

    The world is cold and dark. It is inherently lonely and solitary.

    But just like in this sawdust hole, if you have a little bit of warmth, even if it''s just a single match, it can give you the strength and warmth to get through the world.

    Sinir buried her face in Vikir''s chest as if she could stand it no longer.

    But even then, Vikir''s gaze remained cold.

    "...."

    Of course, there''s no way to be a family with Sinir.

    It was Vikir himself who had destroyed Sinir''s only family.

    ''... I have to admit it.''

    When dealing with Bartolomeo, he didn''t risk his life like he did with Camus.

    He avoided risk as much as possible and took the safest route to kill Belial.

    No regrets. If he had it to do over again, he would make the same choice.

    But guilt and innocence are two different things.

    To kill Sinir''s only family, to be her only family, was a deception within a deception.

    Vikir grabbed both of Sinir''s shoulders as she burrowed deeper into his arms and lifted her up.

    Sinir''s head, bowed deeply, lifted to meet his eyes, which were already dazed.

    "Listen, Sinir, I''m...."

    Just when Vikir was about to open his mouth to say something.

    -Ding!

    [Entering mating environment]

    [Begins third attempt]

    .

    .

    The time limit was up.

    As soon as Vikir stopped talking and gritted his teeth, he began to show signs.

    ...Thump!

    The entire room shook once and loudly.

    External intervention. A biofactory-style forced breeding.

    The same evil hands that had forced the giant mantis creatures to mate in the past had entered the mating room to do the same thing this time.

 Chapter 335: The Mating Room (5)

    <h4>Chapter 335: The Mating Room (5)</h4>

    Vikir pushed Sinir back.

    " ...How much of the mist did you drink?"

    Sinir was too disoriented to answer even the most basic of questions.

    ''Anyway, your body temperature has recovered reasonably well. If I leave her alone, she''ll wake up.''

    Vikirid Sinir on the ground, turned off the lights, and walked out of the den.

    As he stepped out of the sawdust den, he saw two giant grasping hands piercing the darkness of the ceiling.

    Hands covered in blue scales. They must belong to the owner of this mating room.

    -Ding!

    [The owner of the farm would like to check the condition of the collected items]

    [target: human 1 (��)]

    [target: human 2 (��)]

    .

    .

    Simultaneously with an unpleasant beeping sound.

    Koo-koo-koo-koo...

    The shadow cast by a blue hand looms over Vikir.

    The other hand was merely hovering over the sawdust, presumably searching for Sinir, who was probably hiding somewhere beneath theyer of sawdust.

    ''I can''t let that happen.''

    Vikir drew his sword.

    A crimson aura dripped from the surface of the magic sword Beelzebub''s hilt, sticky and dripping.

    ...sh!

    A sharp stab flew out like an arrow and struck the blue hand.

    Thud-!

    The aura on the blue scales produced countless sparks, as if iron and steel had collided.

    However, as expected, the blue hand only flinched slightly and didn''t seem to have suffered any fatal wounds.

    Koo-koo-koo-koo.

    Now, even the hands that were looking for Sinir have joined in capturing Vikir.

    The two hands were quickly surrounding Vikir and pulling him to one side.

    At this point, Vikir pulled out all the candy in his pockets.

    <Vikir>

    -LV: 1 (%)

    -Title: "Gutter Rat Hunter", "Hell''s Dog", "Daylily Lumberjack", "Majin Executioner", "ck Sea King yer" (NEW)

    -Stats

    Strength: 300

    ?Agility: 284 (+16) = 300

    ?Stamina: 300

    ?Physical Resistance: 1

    ?Magic resistance: 1

    ?Reflexes: 1

    Having eaten all of the Agility candies he had been saving up for, he now has all three stats at 300.

    ...Boom!

    Vikir moves much faster than before.

    There was a moment of confusion between the two hands that had anticipated Vikir''s speed.

    And Vikir was taking advantage of the gap.

    "Now, it''s your turn."

    [hack-hack-]

    Vikir stretched out his left hand, and the madam cub that had been waiting on his wrist spewed out a web from its mouth.

    It shot out quickly and clung to the back of the approaching blue grasp.

    Flick!

    Vikir pulled on the web and soared into the air.

    The giant, hovering hand was getting closer and closer.

    Then Decarabia clinging to his chest spoke with concern.

    [Human. Are you sure you''ll be okay? The scales of a Ryumajin are thick and hard. It''s most likely too much for you with your current strength... Didn''t you fail to sh it before?]

    "It''s fine. I''m not after the hand."

    Vikir pulled on the web and climbed up.

    He stepped on the back of its hand as it panicked and tried to pull back.

    Tuck.

    Landing on the blue scales, Vikir tapped them lightly with his hand.

    As a result of slightly injecting mana, the blue scales covering the back of the Ryumajin''s hand were not only much lighter and harder than ordinary metal, but also had good sticity.

    ''Clearly, any attack, whether sword or magic, won''t be able to make a scratch on it.''

    Not even with a Graduator''s level of skill. Head-to-headbat is a losing proposition.

    Vikir made his decision in a split second.

    ...sh!

    The blow erupted once more.

    The crimson aura coursed through the blue scales, traveling down the back of the hand, up the forearm, and into the darkness beyond.

    Koo-koo-koo-koo-koo-koo...

    Then, a loud vibration began.

    The two grasping hands disappeared through the ceiling at breakneck speed.

    By now, Vikir''s web had been severed.

    Decarabia said urgently.

    [Oh, no! We lost them! The web is broken! This is bad news! How are we going to escape this cage?]

    "Wait and see."

    [What do you mean wait for? You''ll die and that''s it, but I might have to spend the rest of my life in Amdusias''s tower! Ugh! And it''s a Ryumajin''sboratory!]

    Decarabia bustles about in all sorts of fussiness.

    But Vikir remains nonchnt.

    Despite losing his grip on the Ryumajin and having his webs cut, he doesn''t show the slightest sign of agitation.

    Vikir''s eyes are fixed on the ceiling. Where the Ryumajin''s grip appeared and disappeared.

    [...? Human. It''s toote. Staring at the arm won''t change anything...]

    While Decarabia is showing a puzzled expression.

    ...Click!

    The ceiling soon responded.

    ...tinkle! ...tinkle! ...tinkle!

    Raindrops falling, little by little.

    It was like the drizzle that had been falling before to take away the body heat.

    ..., except this time, it was different.

    sswaaaaaa-

    It was suddenly pouring like crazy.

    [What, what? Why is the water suddenly like this?]

    Dekarabia looked at him in disbelief.

    But Vikir nodded, as if he''d seen it alling.

    "That was not an attack on the Ryumajin."

    [...Then?]

    "It was an attack on the precipitation device above."

    Vikir could clearly see the griping in and out.

    A sight that was revealed whenever the darkness lifted.

    It was an odd-looking device, apparently serving as an intake for rain from above.

    "I don''t know if it is a device that extinguishes fires inside the mating room or if it is simply a device that makes it rain to lower body temperature. but...."

    Vikir looked around as the rain fell like mad.

    "It''s the only way we can get out of here, that''s for sure."

    The sawdust swells as it absorbs the water.

    But there was far more water pouring down than the sawdust could absorb.

    kuleuleuleuleug... cheolsseog-

    Naturally, the room gradually began to fill with water.

    The chat wheel, water bucket, rice bowl, etc. were also gradually floating on the water.

    "Now that our grip is gone, it''s time to get Sinir out."

    Vikirunched himself toward the sawdust hole he had dug in the high ground.

    At that moment.

    ...thud!

    Vikir felt a terrifying impact that crushed his entire body.

    From above, pressing down with a weight that seemed to crush his entire body, was a blue hand, It was the fist of the Ryumajin who was thought to have disappeared!

    It was a fist, not a grasp, and it was clear that it no longer had any affection for the collected items.

    ''Well, I''ve wounded you, albeit stingingly, so you won''t see it.''

    Vikir gritted his teeth and pushed himself to his feet.

    kkugugugugug...

    The Ryumajin''s fist slid upward, inch by inch.

    But.

    BANG!

    A second hand appeared and grabbed his wrist, just above his fist.

    This time, even Vikir doesn''tst long.

    Ujijijijiji!

    A loud cracking and breaking sound erupted from Vikir''s knees.

    Fortunately, the floor was made up of water and sawdust, so he was able to avoid bing a blood clot.

    [human. What would you have done if it weren''t for me?]

    Decarabia, who is blocking the fist, boasts in an arrogant tone.

    "...."

    But Vikir had no time to respond.

    Every muscle fiber and blood vessel in his lower body is popping and breaking, then joining and rejoining under the basilisk''s power, over and over again.

    And since it was Decarabia, which consumed a lot of mana, he wasn''t sure how long he could maintain this inverted pentagram shield.

    ''... Maybe I should have invested the rest of my stats into strength instead of agility?''

    But then he wouldn''t have had this chance in the first ce. He wouldn''t have been able to dodge the double grasp in the first ce.

    So Vikir gritted his teeth and pushed up against Decarabia''s shield with all his might.

    The Ryumajin, in turn, was pressing down on Vikir with both hands, intent on killing him.

    ''I have no choice.''

    Vikir decided to use hisst resort.

    A picaresque mask. Using it, he transforms into a dog and runs back to the den to retrieve Sinir from the Ryumajin.

    He uses the water to escape from the cage.

    To do so, he must first dodge the Ryumajin''s fists, which threaten to crush his entire body.

    He also has to save Sinir, who might be drowning in the burrow....

    Vikir was just about to slip the mask over his face.

    "...?"

    A voice that shouldn''t have been heard at this moment.

    Sinir poked her head out of the sawdust den in front of her, her eyes wide.

    Not archery, but swordsmanship.

    A red-hot aura that seems to be on fire.

    A gue doctor''s mask covering his face.

    A spider on his shoulder. A shield shaped like an inverted star.

    The unique ck energy of the River Styx rising from the body.

    Sinir''s body began to tremble again. This was not a phenomenon caused by body temperature.

    "...Ah, no, no, brother, no?"

    "...."

    Sinir desperately denies reality, but Vikir doesn''t answer.

    Koo-koo-koo-koo-koo-koo!

    Pouring rain, flooding waters, and the Ryumajin''s fists crushing his body.

    Vikir has a choice to make.

    To tell the truth or not to tell the truth.

    And in the face of such crossroads, Vikir has always pursued only a single-minded answer.

    "...Yes."

    Vikir''s dry voice echoes in the damp air.

    A word that made Sinir''s pupils tremble mercilessly finally came out of Vikir''s mouth.

    "I am Night Hound."

 Chapter 336: The Mating Room (6)

    <h4>Chapter 336: The Mating Room (6)</h4>

    sswaaaaa-

    The rain was pouring down like a torrent.

    A raging flood that seemed intent on destroying the world with water.

    Sawdust, bowls, wheels, and buckets of water were swept away in the torrent.

    Everything in the kennel began to swirl violently.

    ...And in the middle of it all stood Vikir.

    Truth and lies. Revtion and silence.

    At the crossroads, Vikir made his usual dry judgment.

    "I am Night Hound."

    Those words were the beginning of everything. It was a statement that would change many things.

    The first change was the look on Sinir''s face.

    Horror. Disbelief. Confusion. Doubt.

    All of theseplex emotions stormed across her otherwiseke-clear retinas.

    And then.

    ...Quack!

    Vikir flipped his picaresque maskpletely over, transforming into a dog, and used the difference in size to escape the Ryumajin''s fist.

    Whirriik-

    The madam cub riding on Vikir''s back spewed out a spider web and snatched Decarabia.

    pas-

    Back in his human form, Vikir wrapped his arms around Sinir''s waist in the blink of an eye and leaped into the air.

    Just like before against Belial.

    Hanging from Vikir''s waist, Sinir mumbled through empty pupils.

    "Why, why, brother, why."

    "...."

    "Then why did you save me, then... and now...."

    Sinir''s voice began to tremble more and more.

    All alone in the world. The one person she desperately wanted to get rid of, but couldn''t.

    "Why were you so good to me...."

    Drops of water finally fall from Sinir''s eyes, which are filled with rainwater.

    But Vikir can''t stand to watch Sinir''s condition.

    The rain is pouring down, the rapids are rushing, and everything is being swept away!

    ''Onest chance to escape.''

    Soon, the rising waters were overflowing the middle of the kennel.

    with a ssh! paas-

    Vikir jumped onto the floating wheel.

    With all his might, he mmed down on the wheel and yanked at the spider web around his left wrist.

    with a plop! kkoleuleug-

    The wheel that had served as Vikir''s foothold shattered and sank to the bottom of the water.

    A high wave rose up and swallowed the pile of sawdustpletely.

    Narrowly avoiding the wave, Vikir tugged with all his might at the spiderwebs tied to his wrists and ran vertically up the translucent wall.

    And then he jumped again.

    ...BANG!

    His knee mmed into the corner of the cage, but it was only enough to shatter his kneecap.

    Feeling the searing pain and the sensation of it healing, Vikir did a backflip andnded on the outside of the cage.

    Thud!

    Vikirnded on the ground with Sinir in his arms.

    At the same time, a status window popped up in front of him.

    <Mission Complete> �C Escape from the Ryumajin''s Kennel!

    �� It''s surprisinglyfortable inside the Ryumajin''s kennel. Water, food, and a partner to love are provided. Is there any reason to get out of here and return to the harsh world?

    �� A world with everything but freedom, or a world with freedom and nothing. It''s up to the challenger to decide which one to choose~?

    Finally, the mission isplete, and it''s been a harrowing escape.

    Vikir dropped Sinir from his waist onto the ck stone floor.

    Vikir and Sinir''s gazes met.

    "...."

    "...."

    After a moment of silence, Sinir spoke first.

    "That''s a familiar gaze."

    "...."

    "You have a goal, and you''ll do whatever it takes to get there."

    For a moment, Vikir paused.

    He''d had this conversation with Sinir once before.

    ''I''ve only ever seen one person with eyes like yours, and that''s my father.''

    ''....''

    ''He''s the kind of man who pushes forward with goals that ordinary people like me can''t even fathom. I can see it in your eyes. Brother, you''re the same kind of man my father is.''

    Rainwater from Sinir''s eyes trickles down her cheeks.

    Vikir didn''t know whether to wipe the tears away or let them fall.

    But.

    A status window popped up in front of Vikir''s eyes, putting all of that to rest.

    <Special Mission> �C Pursuit of the Angry Ryumajin

    �� If you think that escaping is the end of the story, you''re looking at the world from the wrong angle.

    �� If a bug you usually keep escapes, you try to catch it again, right?

    �� If the bug manages to hide in a crevice somewhere... ugh!

    �� Now let''s run and run until the gate opens ... Good luck!

    At the same time. Something huge fell down from above.

    ...Rumble!

    The fist of a Ryumajin, falling like a bolt of blue lightning.

    There was no way he was going to let the forage he''d fed to them escape with a sting in his hand.

    Quack! Ujijig!

    He had to use his bare hands to deflect the heavy lightning strike.

    "...keug!?"

    An overwhelming weight. An unimaginable shock.

    The fist of a dragon, once the most powerful ruling species, with demonic power in its body.

    It was definitely too much for Vikir, who was unable to unleash his original strength.

    u-deudeudeudeudeug!

    Hides burst, muscles tear, and bones break. Every hair on his body seemed to be on fire, and every internal organ seemed to be melting away.

    The pressure inside his body was exploding.

    The veins of mana that connected his body to the rest of his body were broken, and the lost mana stretched out in all directions.

    If it weren''t for the Basilisk''s regenerative powers, the mana surge would havee sooner.

    Then.

    "...!"

    Vikir''s eyes narrowed.

    Tsutsutsutsuts...

    Behind Sinir, he could see the gate to the lower level opening.

    A ck oval-shaped gate. Judging by its size, it was a one-person gate that led to different ces.

    -Ding!

    [You''ve found the 10th floor of ''Lost Paradise''].

    An escape route to the lower level.

    It told Vikir and Sinir that the teau was close, that it was right in front of them, that they were only one step away.

    However, Vikir was unable to enter the gate because he was currently holding up Ryumajin''s fist.

    "Bro, brother!"

    Sinir scrambled to her feet.

    Sinir grabbed herst bit of mana and drew a magic circle.

    ...sh! kkudeudeudeudeudeug-

    A golden hand protruded from Sinir''s hat and began to support the ground and the Ryumajin''s fist.

    The pressure on Vikir''s entire body decreased ever so slightly.

    As the veins in his eyes subsided, Vikir''s vision also returned to some extent.

    The moment.

    "...."

    "...."

    Vikir and Sinir''s gazes met again.

    For a split second, Sinir saw.

    Vikir''s eyes were shaking.

    And those eyes are soon obscured by therge soles of the feet.

    ''...?''

    Sinir''s head spun as the mysterious sole filled her vision for a moment.

    Pugh-

    The next moment, Vikir''s sole was in Sinir''s face.

    "...!?"

    Sinir threw her head back with a lone scream.

    But there was nothing Vikir could do about it.

    With both hands cradling the Ryumajin''s fist, there wasn''t much Vikir could do.

    He could only kick, sending Sinir flying through the gate on the other side.

    "...! ...! ...! ...!"

    Sinir was sent flying backwards andnded in the gate at the bottom.

    The darkness inside the gate gradually engulfed Sinir''s body.

    But all the while, Sinir desperately struggled and iled her hands.

    Once again, Vikir''s gaze met Sinir''s.

    It was only for a fraction of a second, a split second, but the conversation between the two eyes was much faster than that.

    ''The demon is an absolute evil, you can''t be too stupid to know that, can you?''

    ''You''re treating me like a child... There''s not much difference in our ages....''

    ''Being the opposite of absolute evil doesn''t necessarily make you good, but at least you know which side you''ll be on when ites down to it.''

    ''....''

    ''What you choose to see, what you choose to believe, and what you choose to do is entirely a matter of personal choice.''

    These words were spoken by Night Hound on the night of Bartolomeo''s death.

    The conversation of that day besplicated in Sinir''s mind.

    And then there was Vikir''sst words, which summarized it all, loud and clear.

    "Decide for yourself. What you will see, what you will hear, what you will believe."

    You decide what you believe.

    It was Vikir''s advice to Sinir as much as it was to himself.

    The fist of a Ryumajin.

    An irresistible force.

    And Vikir''s choice to risk his life at thest moment to keep Sinir alive.

    And the responsibility that came with it.

    "A, no... no, no...!"

    Sinir squirms as she tries to force her way through the neck.

    ...thud!

    In front of her, the Ryumajin''s fist mmed into the ground.

    Of course, everything that was underneath didn''t even leave a proper shape.

    Pis.

    This happened almost at the same time that Sinir''s vision went ck after she fell through the gate.

 Chapter 337: Trap (1)

    <h4>Chapter 337: Trap (1)</h4>

    When you look into ''it'', ''it'' looks into you.

    Those who hunt ''it'' must be careful not to be ''it'' themselves.

    Beyond the veil of good and evil, on the fringes, far beyond the bounds of human thought, the "It"''s are sprouting up toward this side.

    -��Notes of an Old Nameless Demon Hunter�� (This is thest record found in his corpse''s arms) �C

    * * *

    ''...!''

    Vikir opened his eyes in the darkness.

    There was no body. Only the severed head remains, floating in the air.

    Vikir smiled bitterly.

    ''So it is. Was I dreaming?''

    A brief dream, the moment his head was cut off.

    Everything was just a momentary dream.

    In the dream, Vikir had aplished so much.

    Vikir had gained all the things that had been taken from him since his infancy.

    He uncovered the dark side of death, took revenge on his family''s brothers, and entered the academy, where he became friends with future great heroes.

    He also hunted down and killed countlessrge-scale demons.

    ... But all of this was a dream. It was nothing more than an illusion.

    Now Vikir was facing reality again.

    A burningnd. A mountain river of corpses and blood. A flock of crows swarming in the sky.

    An age of destruction. The battle between the human and demon worlds had ended in victory for the humans.

    But it was a hollow victory.

    99% of humanity was wiped out, and the bloodlines of countless great heroes were cut off.

    Once opened, the Gate of Destruction would never be closed, and there was no telling when a second or third wave of demons would arrive from within.

    For this reason, Vikir could not close his eyes even in death.

    His bloodshot eyes remained open despite the fact that his throat had been cut by the thoughts of hisrades who had died and those who were still alive.

    Then.

    ''Vikir.''

    A voice called out.

    Vikir tried to turn his head, but with only his neck remaining on the pole, he couldn''t see behind him.

    ''Vikir.''

    But the voice wasing toward him first.

    Then, a warm hand on his cheek.

    He turned his head to see a soldier looking down at him.

    A woman with a long scar on her cheek. She had vague, blurry features.

    But Vikir recognized her at a nce.

    ''Sergeant J, 1st toon, 4th Company, 207th Regiment, you''re alive!''

    But she wasn''t the only one.

    Many more faces followed.

    Vikir knew each and every one of them.

    ''Captain Kirke, Ensign White, Sergeant Kuberin, Corporal Sdin, Private Miryamu... all, all alive! I thought you were dead! I thought.... you were dead!''

    What could be more joyful than the return of arade you thought was dead?

    Vikir cried out at the top of his lungs.

    ...?

    The sight of hisrades in arms before him was a little strange.

    Had blood dried on their corneas? The red and blurred appearance of hisrades was quite different from thest time he remembered them.

    ''Sergeant J. Come to think of it, the stab wounds and burn marks that covered your entire face havepletely disappeared? your face is so fine, you looks like a well-groomed beast.''

    ''Captain Kirke. Didn''t you lose your left leg in thest battle? I believe I even made you a prosthetic...''

    ''Ensign White. You''ve got your... ear back, haven''t you?''

    ''Sergeant Kuberin. You lost my sight in one eye....''

    That wasn''t all.

    There were junior officers, junior nonmissioned officers, and soldiers who had spent their entire lives in poverty and hardship, only to be dragged into the war.

    Every single one of them looked healthy and happy.

    Those who were missing limbs, eyes, ears, and other parts of their bodies were fully functional, and those who had suffered from poverty, hunger, and disease were dressed in rich,vish clothes.

    A moment.

    Something shed through Vikir''s mind.

    In his dream, Vikir had met a woman named Cindy Wendy.

    She had sponsored many of his futurerades-in-arms early on.

    Is that why?

    Every singlerade-in-arms he met again was alive, not dead.

    They were doing what they wanted to do, living their lives, and enjoying themselves.

    And now they were together.

    Each holding Vikir''s arms, fingers, legs, toes, ears, nose, mouth, and eyes.

    ''Vikir!''

    They cried out in unison.

    Suddenly, the body parts carried by hisrades-in-arms rushed toward Vikir.

    A whirlwind of emotions spiraled through his mind.

    Sorry.

    I''m ashamed.

    I''m burdening you with everything.

    I''m rooting for you.

    Be strong.

    Move forward.

    So many words make his vision spin.

    And then.

    Vikir heard one word from everyone that echoed deep in his head.

    ''Thank you.''

    * * *

    -Ting!

    [Exits the underground 9th floor ''Demonic Dradon''s Laboratory'']

    [Entering the 10th underground floor, ''Lost Paradise'']

    A series of loud beeps hit his ears.

    "...!"

    Vikir opens his eyes.

    The ceiling is unfamiliar.

    "... I see. This is the reality."

    For the first time in a long time, Vikir had a dream that wasn''t a nightmare. Somehow, he felt like he had regained some of his strength.

    ''To think that myrades-in-arms in my dream gave me strength... is too sentimental.''

    Vikir looked up, remembering the details of his dream.

    The color white. A vast expanse of nothing but white.

    ''This is just one more level down from the Demonic Dragon''s Laboratory.''

    The moment he was crushed by the Ryumajin''s fist on the 9th floor, Vikir turned into a dog once again and was barely able to escape.

    He would have been pinned down if Sinir hadn''t used his magic to save him at thest second.

    When Vikir opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was his reward.

    -<Strange Candy> / Level / Golden

    A candy that raises your level by 1.

    Tastes sweet.

    -Level +1

    50 golden candies.

    This was a huge reward, worth five thousand ordinary candies.

    It was probably abination of the reward for escaping from the Demonic Dragon''s Laboratory and the reward for escaping the Demonic Dragon''s pursuit.

    ''Surprisingly, no items.''

    Could it be because Vikir had told the fairy several times that he didn''t want an item reward? Strangely, only candy was being offered as a reward.

    ''As a normal challenger, it''s hard toplete missions without items. The fairies'' trick to make it harder for me was actually helpful.''

    Vikir checked the rewards and stood up.

    He wasn''t wearing any clothes, so something soft touched his naked skin.

    ''By the way, this is...''

    He looks around and sees a cozy soft couch next to him.

    Vikir was now lying on arge, fluffy soft bed.

    Beside him is a desk and a chair, and on top of them is a silver candlestick and an assortment of delicious fruits and bread.

    <Floor 10: Lost Paradise>

    Vikir already knew the information about this floor.

    In fact, there''s not much information.

    Most of the settings on this floor are open, except for a few hidden ones, and they''re written on the walls in nice detail.

    <This is a shelter for challengers who are tired of the trials of the tower!>

    <This is thergest candy store in the tower>.

    <Challengers can trade their items for candy here>.

    <Challengers can exchange their candy for items here> .

    .

    .

    And next to it was a catalog with the prices of the items sold in the shop.

    <Small, hard wooden bed- [1 red candy]>.

    <Large, fluffy duck bed- [2 red candies]>.

    <Small cloth couch- [1 blue candy]>.

    <Large Leather Sofa �C [2 blue candies].

    <10 cans of cold beer �C [1 blue candy]>.

    <10 pieces of crispy fried chicken legs �C [1 red candy]>.

    <5 slices of sweet hole cake �C [1 green candy]>.

    <1 newest game console �C [2 green candies]>.

    <Letter to the person outside the tower �C [1 golden candy]>.

    .

    .

    At the bottom of the catalog, there was a list of ways to enjoy shopping.

    <You can exchange items you have for candy!>

    <Originally, when exchanging an item for candy, you only get 50% of the price back, but on this floor, you will receive a special exchange of 100%!>

    <Candy that has already been eaten and be stats can also be vomited out and turned into candy, but only if you are a resident of this floor!>

    <If you vomit out candy that was consumed before entering this floor, you will receive an additional 1 candy for every 10 candies!>

    <The color of the extra candy will be randomized between red, green, and blue!>

    <Now you can decorate this empty space by purchasing your own items from the catalog!>

    .

    .

    Vikir looked at the bottom of the disimer.

    <�� A small perk for all the trouble you''ve taken to get here �C send a message to a figure outside the tower who will be anxiously waiting for you!> .

    <�� A ''letter item'', originally worth one golden candy, will be given away for free once a month to the residents of this floor!>

    <�� The probability of entering this room is less than 0.0001%, you are the lucky one who has been chosen!>

    <�� From the very next floor onwards, the difficulty will increase by at least ten timespared to the floors you''ve been through so far!>

    <�� Please rest here to refresh your mind and body before attempting the tower again!>

    That was the end of the notice.

    Therge empty space can be filled with things from the store.

    Necessities and luxuries that are reasonably priced.

    No threats to survival, and plenty of ways to rx and entertain yourself.

    Above all, you could send a message to your family or friends who might be worried about you outside the tower.

    All of these things were not dreams, fantasies, or mirages; it is a stark reality.

    ...And Vikir thought to himself.

    ''This is the worst.''

    Before the Regression, the most dangerous floor, where all the great heroes who said they were going to fly were holding their tongues.

    A trap set by demons to hunt down challengers.

    The vilest, most despicable, and most tant trap in the entire tower was here.

 Chapter 338: Trap (2)

    <h4>Chapter 338: Trap (2)</h4>

    <10th Floor Lost Paradise>

    A translucent screen floats on the wall.

    The first thing that catches his eye is a catalog that lists numerous items and their prices.

    <Hot Water Faucet- [3 red candies]>

    <Cypress Sauna- [1 red candy]>

    <Marble Bathtub- [2 red candies]>

    <Luxury Bath Salts+Luxury Sampoo+Luxury Conditioner+Luxury Body Wash- [1 blue candy]>

    <Oak Barrel of Aged Wine- [1 blue candy]>

    <Assorted Fresh Fruits- [1 blue candy]>

    <Modern Card Game- [1 blue candy]>

    <Letter to the person outside the tower- [1 golden candy]>

    .

    .

    A rest area where you can buy anything with candy.

    Comfortable and cozy things are everywhere.

    The items aren''t too expensive, so even people with low levels and stats can rx here.

    Delicious food, fluffy furniture, interesting entertainment... You can even send a message to someone outside the tower!

    The downside is that you only get one reply and it costs an additional golden candy to read it, but you can stillmunicate.

    Plus, it''s free to send once a month, so that''s an added perk.

    With less than 0.0001% of challengers making it to this level, and the next level being 10x harder, you''ll be lucky to even make it to this level.

    So for all theforts and conveniences, Vikir had this to say.

    ''...That''s one hell of a trap.''

    This is the first time he''s seen a trapid out so tantly.

    But it''s the traps on this floor that are so effective nheless.

    Even Vikir, who has seen it all, would have fallen to it if he hadn''t had the knowledge he had before the regression.

    ''Even the great and powerful Camus had a hard time on this floor,''

    Vikir didn''t rx, recalling an incident from long ago.

    The face of Hugo Le Baskerville, patriarch of the Baskerville family, shed in his mind.

    ''Do you know how to catch the big beast?''

    One day, Hugo gathered the young hounds of the Baskervilles around him and said that.

    One of the hounds raised his hand and said, "It''s called a pack," and Hugo shook his head.

    ''I''m talking about a veryrge beast, a beast that can''t be defeated by many. What would you do if such a thing ruled an entire mountain and reigned like a king?''

    Arge beast that reigns supreme over a region.

    A single entity whosebat power and danger is so high that even an army can''t handle it.

    Indeed, the western fringes of the Baskervilles'' territory were home to quite a few such beasts.

    Did all the seeds dry up after Hugo moved his family to the lower reaches of the Red and ck Mountains?

    Hugo told him of his methods of extermination.

    ''I didn''t use much force. Anyone with the time could have done it. Even if you''re just a criminal.''

    Hugo said he left chunks of meat all over the mountain.

    He didn''t use poison or traps. The smell of poison or iron would only make the enemy more wary.

    The chunks of meat scattered throughout the beast''s territory were seasoned.

    The fatty, cholesterol-rich meat was selected from the fatty parts, stir-fried and deep-fried, and scattered throughout the beast''s hunting grounds.

    Even the beasts that were initially wary of the meat chunks would eventually eat them if they saw themid out all over the hunting trail.

    The amazingly delicious chunks of meat keeping. They''re everywhere.

    You don''t have to go hunting, you just have to set foot on a trail and you''ll always have ess to those fatty, delicious chunks of meat.

    It''s a life of lying down and sleeping, then waking up when you''re hungry, following the scent, and picking up chunks of meat.

    This goes on for a while.

    In the meantime, the beast gains weight. It develops a belly and wrinkles.

    Its ws, always sharpened as it runs across thend, and its teeth, sharpened by breaking prey''s bones and soaking in blood, be dull.

    His ears and eyes, which allowed him to sense the signs of his prey from miles away, have grown fat and dull.

    A fleshy underbelly and fatty intestines weigh it down.

    ''Now is the time to hunt.''

    When the beast haspletely lost its wildness, the hardened hounds of the Baskervilles break their leashes and run.

    And from that day forward, the territory changes hands.

    In this way, Baskerville, the iron-blooded swordsman, would eliminate his enemies and the beasts of the ck Mountain, one by one.

    ''... The principle of this floor is the same.''

    Vikir closed the catalog.

    ''The reason this floor is dangerous is not because of the presence of life-threatening demons or traps.

    Rather, it is the certainty that there is none.

    It''s so peaceful and rxing that everything you''ve been through seems like a nightmare.

    Conveniences that are only a small price to pay for the stats you''ve worked so hard to umte.

    Once you leave, not only will you never return, but you''ll face missions that are ten times harder than anything you''ve ever faced before.

    And the ability to send letters to people outside the tower is another reason to stay.

    The chance to let your family, friends, and loved ones know you''re okay, even if they''re probably crying right now.

    Even better, you can write back to them!

    This is what keeps challengers on this floor.

    As you stay, you''ll spend more and more candy in your stats.

    Little by little, like clothes soaked in a drizzle.

    Once they''re gone, they''ll nevere back.

    Your strength, agility, and stamina... will decrease by a further level.

    Outside of this floor, you can spit out candies of the stats you''ve already eaten, and they''ll give you back more candies, so there''s no reason not to exchange them.

    The longer you stay here, the faster and more rapidly the challenger will weaken.

    Weakened in body and mind, the challenger will eventually be unable to descend to the next level and will remain here for life.

    A prison without bars.

    The challengers of the tower, whose bodies were locked up but not their minds, will eventually find their minds locked up here as well.

    Of their own volition!

    ''Here I will grow fat, old, and weak. content to exchange letters with people outside the tower for the rest of my life.''

    If someone else clears the tower, even if it''s not you, you''ll automatically leave this floor and go outside.

    ''It doesn''t have to be me...''

    As a result of this psychology, challengers be even more unable to escape this floor.

    ''Besides... there must be hidden traps here.''

    Vikir turned his head in silence and looked at the screen in the corner of his eye.

    <�� A small perk for all the trouble you''ve taken to get here: send a message to a figure outside the tower who will be anxiously awaiting my return!>

    <�� A ''letter item'', originally worth the price of a single golden candy, will be given away for free once a month to residents of this floor!>

    It was equipped with the ability to send letters outside the tower.

    Vikir boldly pressed the send button.

    Suddenly, words appeared out of thin air.

    [To. Sergeant J, 1st toon, 4th Company, 207th Regiment].

    [I miss you,rade. Are you getting along well there?]

    .

    .

    Vikir sent the letter.

    Within seconds, he received a reply.

    <Do you want to see the reply right away?>

    <One golden candy will be deducted>

    <You can check it for free in 30 days>

    .

    .

    Vikir spent the one golden candy he had and opened the reply.

    [From. Sergeant J, 1st toon, 4th Company, 207th Regiment].

    [Company Commander, is that you Company Commander Vikir, are you alive, where are you, everyone is waiting for you, we thought you were alive after all, everyone at the front says you can''t be dead...]

    .

    .

    Vikir mmed the letter shut without another look.

    ''It''s a trap after all.''

    The seasoned Vikir saw through all the oddities in the letter.

    For one thing, Sergeant J is a person from a time before the regression, a time in which she had already been executed.

    And at this point in time, Sergeant J would be living as a normal, wealthy family figure with the support of Cindy Wendy.

    This is because the future has changed.

    In other words, the Sergeant J that Vikir remembers no longer exists in either world.

    Nevertheless, the immediacy of the reply means that....

    ''A trick.''

    The ability to lure people into a false sense of security, to make them feel safe and secure in the knowledge that they are in touch with someone they care about.

    ...But all of this is false.

    The letters are replies written by a demon who has read the letter, picked through the memories and emotions of the writer, and cherry-picked what they wanted to hear as much as possible.

    ''With the restriction of once a month, I can only write down the words I need to send to the people who really need them, and all the emotions of longing and longing are read by the demon fairy.''

    And now, a letter ghostwritten by a demon will make the challengers in the towercent.

    Once they reach the next floor, even this small exchange ofmunication will be impossible.

    ''Being petty and cowardly is exactly the strategy of the demons.''

    Vikir grunted and pushed himself up.

    With no one waiting for him outside the tower, no one to miss him, Vikir could leave this floor without any regrets.

    ''...but I will only remain here until I regain my strength and magic.''

    Even now, the wound was regenerating at a rapid pace.

    Madame cub and Decarabia are also sleepingfortably under the bed, so they will open their eyes soon.

    ''...But who moved me to the bed?''

    Vikir suddenly realized something was wrong.

    "Whoa? you''re awake."

    A voice said from beside him.

    Where Vikir turned his head, there stood a female student with a familiar face.

    Dolores. The student council president of Colosseo Academy stood across the bed from Vikir, staring at him.

    Suddenly, Vikir realized something else he had forgotten.

    ''Yes. There''s always a male and female on this floor.''

    To ensure that those imprisoned on this floor don''t go mad with loneliness and try to escape, the demons always ce another prisoner here.

    So that the two can be friends and remain here.

    Dolores had apparently entered this floor before Vikir.

    She stroked the wound on Vikir''s forehead sympathetically.

    "You should lie down a little longer, there are almost no external injuries, but the internal injuries are severe."

    Vikir was momentarily flustered by Dolores'' casual approach.

    ''...What?''

    Was he now in the state of a Night Hound? Or Vikir, a first-year student at Colosseo Academy?

    Judging by her half-speech, she''s talking to Vikir, a first-year student at Colosseo Academy.

    However, the affectionate look she''s giving him right now is definitely that of a Night Hound.

    ''...No way. Has she found out who I am?''

    Vikir scrambles to his feet.

    Dolores pulled him into a tight embrace.

    "Uh-huh, This guy! You''re not listening to me when I tell you to lie down a little longer!"

    At the same time, she slipped her hands under Vikir''s sides and lifted him up.

    In an instant, Vikir''s reflection appeared in Dolores''rge, clear eyes.

    It was neither Vikir nor Night Hound.

    "Listen to your sister, Choco, before I have you neutered."

    Choco, Peanutck''s hound.

    It was Vikir''s third identity.

 Chapter 339: Private Life (1)

    <h4>Chapter 339: Private Life (1)</h4>

    ''Oh, I see. I see I haven''t finished my transformation yet.''

    Just before Vikir was crushed by the Ryumajin''s fist, he had transformed into a dog, making him smaller in size and thus avoiding being crushed.

    Of course, this was only possible because Sinir''sst-minute magic had bought him some time.

    Unaware of this, Dolores was examining every inch of Vikir''s body.

    "Wow, your wounds are almost healed already. You''re a good constitution to divine power, my choco."

    She rubbed the ointment she''d bought with the candy all over Vikir''s wounds.

    With that, Vikir''s external wounds were almostpletely healed.

    "Mmm~ But you still have internal injuries, so you''ll need to heal a bit more. I''ll get some medicine for you, just wait a bit."

    Dolores patted Vikir''s head and turned on the shop window.

    <Medicines for internal injuries!> [3 blue candies]>

    Vikir thought to himself as he watched her pay three candies for a medicine for internal wounds.

    ''... You''re still being a brat.''

    The internal injuries are severe, but a few days of rest is all it takes to recover.

    Besides, who gives three pieces of candy to a stray dog on the street in the first ce?

    (And if you count the trauma medicine, that''s a whopping six candies!)

    Vikir didn''t swallow the pills Dolores gave him, instead sneaking them into the corners of his mouth.

    He nned to secretly return itter and exchange it for another candy.

    Dolores, meanwhile, had no idea what Vikir was thinking when she opened her mouth.

    "Choco, you were there and you got caught up in it, poor thing.... But how did you end up here? It''s quite a coincidence, no matter how random the circumstances you encounter on each floor."

    "...."

    "With a 0.0001% chance of ending up here, we''re pretty lucky, aren''t we? Right?"

    "...."

    Vikir lowered his head for a moment in embarrassment.

    ''In order to escape this room, both prisoners must agree to leave. If one of them wishes to remain in the floor, neither of them will be able to leave.''

    Vikir would have to somehow convince Dolores to leave the room.

    But Dolores had already made up her mind to live in the room for quite some time.

    She''d set up a fluffy bed, a couch, plenty of food and water, and even a bath.

    "Choco~ While you''re healing from your trauma, why don''t you take a bath with me? The holy water I make is great for internal wounds!"

    Vikir sighed softly.

    Why does this girl love bathing so much?

    * * *

    Vikir eventually entered the bathhouse.

    He didn''t have the strength to resist, and he didn''t really have a good reason.

    In fact, the holy water was so effective at healing internal wounds that Vikir had to bow down and ask.

    Arge wooden bathtub filled with warm water.

    The peak.

    Dolores hugged Vikir tightly and soaked in the water.

    "Wow- we''ve bathed together before, haven''t we? I remember."

    Vikir nodded slightly.

    Back when he was a Graduator, after his first encounter with Camus, he had been dragged to the baths by a passing Dolores on her way back to the Academy after fighting tooth and nail and being turned into a pulp.

    Even then, Dolores seemed to have said something simr while bathing.

    "Taking a bath was my only pleasure in life. I didn''t have time for any hobbies because I had so many things to do, like study, work, volunteer work, and .... The board game club, which was my other hobby, was closed down because the number of members was too small. Nowadays, everyone is busy doing extracurricr activities to keep their grades up, and the job market is so bad."

    Words like romantic, geeky, and surplus are now rarely heard.

    While Dolores acknowledges that this is a change, she is also nostalgic for the past.

    "Haha �C I can''t believe I''m talking about something that''s after been captured by the demon and locked in a tower. It''s not very realistic either. Right?"

    Vikir nodded silently.

    Then Dolores tapped the tip of Vikir''s nose and snorted.

    "Wuu. You act like you understand me, don''t you?"

    Vikir turned away silently as Dolores lifted herself out of the water.

    Silence descended on the bath for a moment.

    Vikir sniffed the thick steam rising from the water and concentrated on healing his wounds.

    His internal organs were healing rapidly, thanks to the holy power emanating from Saint Dolores'' body.

    ''At this rate, a day or two should be enough.''

    Vikir was mentally estimating the time it would take to recover.

    "I know, I know. This is not the time to be killing time in a ce like this."

    Behind him, he heard Dolores muttering to herself.

    Her voice quivered slightly as she continued.

    "My ssmates, my juniors, they''re dying in front of me, people I''ve lived with and studied with for thest few years, and they''re killing each other, murdering each other, ... using each other, betraying each other, ....."

    What could she, who was both a student and a religious person, do in the midst of that chaos?

    The rules were set by the demon in the first ce, a game yed out of malice.

    There was no ce for righteousness or love in it.

    Dangerous creatures such as Hellhounds and Daylily of Dlood lurked on every floor.

    There was always a fixed number of survivors, and those who didn''t make it were simply culled and left to die a miserable death.

    Dolores has tried many times to sacrifice herself in their ce, but those around her desperately urged her to protect the Healer.

    with a ssh-

    Dipping her face in and out of the water, Dolores wiped the water from her face.

    But she couldn''t wipe the water from her voice.

    "I took the hearts of those who tried to protect me by pretending to be invincible. I ignored the sacrifices of the few in favor of saving the many. I betrayed the desires of the weak."

    The weak being offered up as food for the Daylily of the Blood, the strong pushing the weak out on a limb.

    It''s an absurd situation for anyone to see, not just religious people.

    ... but without human sacrifice, everyone dies.

    She wanted to sacrifice herself, but it wouldn''t change anything, and she was already the leader of the group, the spiritual center of the survivors, so she couldn''t move.

    Throughout the process, Dolores was torn.

    What was the right course of action: to sacrifice unconditionally, or to preserve her life for those left behind, or neither...?

    In the end, Dolores did not find an answer to this question in time.

    The result of the many weak against the few strong was an overflow of Blood Daylily that wiped out all of the surviving students.

    In the midst of the carnage, Dolores was forced to tear up the return scroll

    For no other reason than to keep herself alive.

    "...I was helpless, I could do nothing, I was tested by the demon from beginning to end."

    Dolores bowed her head deeply.

    The hot steam from the baths was making her eyes red.

    Vikir closed his eyes and thought.

    ''The mind trick worked.''

    This was Amdusias'' intention.

    A strategy to break the faith and will of young sprouts who will grow into heroes in the future from the very beginning, and to instill in their ce a sense of inferiority, self-destruction, and helplessness.

    Indeed, many aspiring great heroes died here before the regression.

    ''...But there were also those who came out of it stronger and more hardened.''

    Such was the case with Dolores, who wouldter be known as the Ironblooded Saint.

    She was said to have awakened on the front lines of the battlefield after the Age of Destruction, but it was actually a second awakening, the first a stepping stone before that, here in the Tower of Abyss.

    ''It will be a matter of how you shake off this spirit.''

    Vikir knows, having been through the grueling process of bing a Master himself.

    A word or two of advice from someone who has traveled this path before you can make all the difference.

    Ultimately, Vikir''s path to Master was paved by a few words from CaneCorso, whom he met at the Grave of Swords.

    ''... I wonder if any of those words would apply to Dolores at this point.''

    Vikir pondered.

    ''Something to say to a future hero.''

    For now, he had to put aside all thoughts and distractions and focus on the first word.

    Even though his body and mind were exhausted after the battle with the Demonic Dragon, he still had to keep his spirits up and focus as much as possible.

    ''After all, Dolores, Saint of Steel, it would be best if I told you what you said, right?''

    One can only speak as one has been through.

    She, too, would understand best.

    Vikir recalled what the middle-aged Dolores had said before the regression, as she tended to the wounded.

    "The more painful the reality, the more deeply you should think about the meaning of life and religion. Only then will it lead you to a better realm of greater goodness."

    It was not a simple well-wishes.

    They were words spoken by Dolores, Saint of Steel, in a makeshift shelter for wounded soldiers, to a young saint who was weeping and berating herself for not saving more lives.

    Yearster, Dolores, who had ovee more hardships and trials than anyone else, had distilled her life''s experience into a teaching.

    It was passed down across the time axis of several decades to the young, fledgling saintess Dolores.

    Sure enough, Dolores lifted her head up as if she hade to great realization.

    Then, in a voice of disbelief, she said.

    "... Choco. Did you just say that?"

 Chapter 340: Private Life (2)

    <h4>Chapter 340: Private Life (2)</h4>

    ....

    Silence.

    Silence hung in the bathroom for what seemed like an eternity.

    Dolores stared down at Choco, or rather, Vikir, with a nk expression.

    "...Choco, did you just say that?"

    She tugged at Vikir''s body.

    seueug-

    Vikir closed his mouth and avoided eye contact, but it was already toote.

    "Choco? Are you Choco? Yes, you are, with the mole on the bottom of your foot and the scar on the bridge of your nose... Has the demon transformed? but I can''t feel any magic at all... No, but I thought you just said it clearly."

    Dolores began to examine every inch of Vikir''s body.

    From his lips to his gums to his eyelids to his eyeballs.

    Vikir''s mind was barely able toprehend after the battle with the Ryumajin.

    He had no choice but to speak, if only to avoid suspicion.

    "...meong."

    But the crisp, careful pronunciation, which made the line feel all the more awkward and unnatural, only served to heighten Dolores''s rm.

    "You, who are you, who are you?"

    Dolores was now more than a little frightened.

    If he left it at this, things could get out of hand, so Vikir simply told her the truth.

    "Calm down."

    The moment Vikir spoke, the warm bath water seemed to freeze.

    Dolores stiffened as if she were an ice sculpture.

    "...."

    "...."

    There was another infinite silence.

    "Hmm. I think there''s a misunderstanding...."

    "Kkyaaaaah!"

    Unable to bear the weight of the silence, Vikir opened his mouth once more, only to be met with Dolores'' screams.

    There was nothing he could do about it now.

    Vikir put on his mask and transformed into Night Hound.

    A human body with a face covered by a mask would somehow exin it.

    It would be much faster and more intuitive than trying tomunicate with words.

    ...Pop!

    The effect of the picaresque mask reveals Vikir''s human body.

    Ssh! -Slosh!

    The water ripples as Vikir''s body drapes over Dolores'' halfying body in the bathtub.

    A look of horror on her face, clearly visible even through the steam.

    Facing Dolores like that, Vikir twisted his voice as low as he could.

    "It is me. Night Hound. Van...."

    However.

    "Split in half!"

    It was Dolores'' fist that returned.

    ... Pow!

    Dolores was so embarrassed that she performed the miracle of splitting the bath water in half.

    Sheshed out with a fist strengthened by divine power and defeated the pervert in front of her.

    Jukbang.

    The fist shot out with a tremendous aura, reminiscent of Dolores in her prime, when she was known as the Saint of Steel.

    And the moment that fist met Vikir''s chin.

    ...Tug!

    Of course, Vikir''s thinly held consciousness was cut off.

    * * *

    Vikir slept soundly for the first time in a while. It was a good night''s sleep without a single nightmare.

    "...!"

    Vikir jerked out of bed.

    His wounds were almost healed.

    But the mask on his face and his clothes were still off.

    Pulling back the covers, Vikir stood up and locked eyes with Dolores, who was sitting on his bedside table.

    "...."

    "...."

    The silence was eerily thick.

    So thick you could hear cells dividing.

    After a long moment of silence, Dolores was the first to speak.

    "Hey, are you awake? Night Houn... no Van... no Vikir...."

    She spoke with her head bowed, her face bright red.

    "I wasn''t going to take that... mask off, but it''s full of water and you can''t breathe...."

    Vikir nodded. What can he do?

    "I owe you."

    It was a conversation starter.

    But it only made Dolores'' face turn even redder.

    Earlier, Dolores wondered if she could get any redder in here, but apparently she had plenty of energy left to do so.

    Dolores remained silent, her head bowed, so Vikir turned his attention elsewhere.

    Then he saw Madame cub and Decarabia sitting somewhat uneasily on the couch beyond.

    "...Where have you been?"

    [Sorry, human, I tried to hide, but I got caught].

    [hack-hack-]

    There''s no point in disguise or pretense now that he''s been spotted with his bare face, his distinctive mask and voice, and now the cub and Decarabia.

    Vikir sighed and opened his mouth.

    "This is...."

    "I know."

    But before Vikir could say anything, Dolores spoke up.

    "I''m sure you meant it all."

    "...."

    "Don''t be so hard on yourself. We''re colleagues."

    Dolores echoed Vikir''s words from before.

    ''Don''t be too hard on yourself. We''re colleagues.''

    She''d been trying to get those words back to Night Hound, to Vikir.

    ''I can finally tell him this!''

    The timing was a little odd, but who cares!

    She knew the identity of her ''soul mate'', Night Hound, the one she had missed and wondered about so much!

    Dolores examined Vikir''s form carefully.

    She was checking him for wounds, but then her face turned bright red again.

    "Oh, you need to get dressed...."

    Dolores said in a hushed voice as she handed him a bathrobe.

    In all her years of treating patients, she had seen men naked countless times.

    But she was surprised that her heart was beating so fast right now.

    Finally, Dolores spoke again, unable to bear the awkward silence.

    "By the way, how did you get the ability to turn into a dog and why...?"

    "It''s an ability I gained after hunting down Dantalian many years ago."

    "aha...."

    Dolores then asked, her voice even more hushed than before.

    "Well, then, were you the one who bathed with mest time...?"

    "That was me, too."

    At the same time.

    ...hwaag!

    Dolores''s face was now flushed to bursting.

    The first thing she remembers is kissing the soles of Vikir''s feet and hands.

    After that, stroking his hair, pressing his cheeks, touching his chin, rubbing his belly, rubbing their noses together.

    And then...

    ''Dogs are supposed to kiss.''

    ''....''

    ''You don''t give me choco? It''s a pity.''

    ''....''

    ''Are you sure you''re not a dog? This is suspicious.''

    Vikir''s tongue licked Dolores''s cheek.

    And Dolores kissed Vikir''s mouth, nose, and the rest of his face.

    Dolores mping her mouth shut and swallowing the screams that came out.

    Trying to lighten the mood, Vikir cracks a joke of his own.

    " ...I''m lucky I didn''t get neutered."

    "Kkyaaaaaah!"

    Of course, that only irritated Dolores even more.

    * * *

    Two more days passed.

    Dolores was able to wipe the te clean of all of her previous thoughts.

    "The more painful the reality, the more deeply you should think about the meaning of life and religion. Only then will it lead you to a better realm of greater goodness... So you meant that there is meaning in the process itself, not in the oue of your agonizing and torturing. Thank you, Vikir."

    Her expression was more determined than ever, as if she had realized something.

    Vikir nodded, not knowing much about theology.

    ''Before the regression, this was the floor where Dolores spent most of her time, but this time is different.''

    In the past, Dolores had wasted months on this floor.

    She''d spent months on this floor, until a desperate Tudor convinced her that she needed to find Bianca, and she''d finally left.

    This time, however, Dolores shook herself out of her thoughts very quickly.

    Whether it was because of the realization, or the traumatic event in the bathroom, or both, he wasn''t sure.

    " ...If we go out of this gate, will we be separated again?"

    "I suppose."

    At Dolores'' question, tinged with regret, Vikir nodded nonchntly.

    But even if we are separated now, we will meet again someday. That''s what towers are for.

    If only Dolores hade to her senses a little sooner, a lot of lives could have been saved.

    Step-

    Vikir took a step forward.

    Dolores hesitated behind him, gripping the cuffs of Vikir''s robe for a moment.

    Then released.

    Step-

    She, too, took arge step forward to stand beside Vikir.

    <��A small perk for all the trouble you took to get here, send a message to the figure outside the tower who will be anxiously awaiting my arrival!>

    "I''m not fooled by your fake answers."

    <�� The ''Letter Item'', originally worth one golden candy, will be given away for free once a month to residents of this floor only!>

    "We don''t have time to wait a month, because there are probably tons of people suffering on other floors right now."

    <�� Your chances of being in this room are less than 0.0001%, you''re the lucky one who''s been chosen!">

    "I decide whether what is in front of me is luck or not."

    <�� From the very next floor onwards, the difficulty will increase by at least ten timespared to the floors you''ve been through so far!">

    "It doesn''t matter what penance awaits me, I''m not afraid."

    <�� Please rest here to rejuvenate your body and mind so that you can challenge the tower again!>.

    "... Are you ready?"

    "Of course."

    Vikir and Dolores stood side by side at the starting line.

    "It''s going to be a tough road from here on out."

    "With you, I can handle anything."

    "Are you sure you want to abandon this ce offort?"

    "My heart will never change, no matter what."

    At Dolores'' confident answer, Vikir nodded.

    And with that, they began to walk away, looking in the same direction, heading in the same direction, with the same stride.

    Companions.

    Their gazes were unwavering, shining straight ahead.

    As if they were not afraid of the 11th floor of the Abyss, the core of darkness they were about to encounter.

 Chapter 341: Balak (1)

    <h4>Chapter 341: Bk (1)</h4>

    -Ding!

    [You have exited the 10th underground level, ''Lost Paradise'']

    [Entering the 11th underground level ''River of Flow'']

    .

    .

    Vikir felt his vision slowly brighten.

    When he looked up, he was alone, seemingly separated from Dolores, who was beside him.

    "I''ve fallen into a bad ce."

    Vikir looked around at his surroundings.

    Razor-sharp leaves and thorny bushes.

    The climate hot and humid.

    In the distance, arge, gently winding river circled the forest.

    At first nce, it looked like an ordinary jungle, but there was one crucial difference.

    Daylily of Blood.

    These grotesque aquatic nts cover the surface of the river.

    A colony. Vikir had fallen into the center of a colony of blood daylilies.

    " ...Are they surrounding this jungle? It will be difficult to go out like this."

    The blood daylilies covered every inch of the river that circled the jungle.

    They were so numerous that it was hard to see them all at a nce.

    Vikir pulled a picaresque mask over his face in case the daylilies gave off poisonous gas.

    "Looks like a normal jungle, except for the daylilies."

    Vikir turned his gaze back to the forest.

    A moment.

    "...!"

    Vikir realized something was wrong.

    He hadn''t realized it until he was distracted by the daylilies that filled the vast river.

    The jungle looked the same now as it had when Vikir first looked at it earlier.

    The basdscape remained the same, withrge boulders and giant trees, but everything else was changing in real time.

    Tsutsutsutsutsuts...

    Leaves sprouted from the dainty branches, then blossomed into flowers and fruits.

    The fruit then falls back to the ground, sprouting seeds, and the original branch shrivels up and dies.

    Everything in the forest is born and dies at an incredible rate.

    It was as if time was being rewind dozens of times.

    Vikir looked at the standing water in the muddy puddle.

    The water was evaporating at a noticeable rate, shrinking.

    The tiny eggs in the puddle hatched in the blink of an eye and turned into tiny flying insects.

    They flew up into the sky, fluttered around a few times, and then fell to their deaths.

    "...Is that a mayfly?"

    Something is definitely wrong if a mayfly, which usually lives for about seventeen hours after two days, can die so quickly.

    ''Time passes quickly.''

    Vikir once again paid attention to the name of this floor.

    <Level 11, ''River of Flow''>

    Time flows like a river.

    Perhaps the name of this floor refers not to the surrounding river, but to the swift passage of time.

    "A jungle where time flows quickly. Another strange ce."

    To be precise, it''s a ce where only the time of organisms passes quickly.

    The breeze on his nose, the speed of the river''s flow, these things were no different from the normal world.

    Vikir noted his body.

    Tsutsutsutsuts...

    The marks of his deep wounds were noticeably fading.

    This was a speed that even a Basilisk''s regenerative powers could not match.

    ''...The passage of time is even faster than I thought.''

    Vikir''s expression hardened.

    Considering that recovery was so rapid, it was highly likely that time was passing at a much faster rate than 2 or 3 times.

    "We''d better hurry."

    Vikir tapped his foot quickly, feeling the time running out.

    * * *

    Vikir paused and looked around the jungle.

    As he moved away from the river and into the center of the forest, he frowned as the sunlight filtered through the leaves.

    ''It''s not going to be easy to spot the enemy in this.''

    Blue and red, blue and purple.

    The trees around them were changing color every few seconds, casting a brilliant glow over the jungle.

    The splendor is iparable to the huge stained ss on Quovadis Street.

    "...."

    Vikir decided to change his method of searching the jungle.

    The scariest thing in a jungle battlefield is not the enemy, but nature itself.

    Vikir understood this well, having lived in the Red and ck Mountains.

    If you don''t know the ecology of a jungle, don''t tread near it.

    That was the rule of Bk''s rangers.

    Still, the good news was that it was only the nts that had changed.

    Perhaps the only thing that has adapted in this great river is the nts.

    For them, aging is a natural and familiar concept.

    "We''ll have to climb a tree for now."

    Vikir quickly decided on his next move.

    It''s better to get out of a ce like this quickly than anything else.

    Staring at it would only make his head hurt.

    He grabbed the vines around him,

    Sreuk-

    The tree vines fell helplessly.

    In the meantime, the vines have dried up and grown new ones from their roots.

    Tub-

    Vikir grabbed the tree trunk for good.

    He''d had enough of tree climbing when he was in the military.

    It was an abnormallyrge tree, but with Vikir''s tree-climbing skills and his current physical abilities, he should be able to climb it without difficulty.

    "For now, we''ll go to higher ground...."

    Vikir stroked his chin and muttered.

    ...Ping!

    A strange sound sounded in his ears.

    Ssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

    An arrow flying with such incredible speed that even Vikir could barely react.

    Luckily, Vikir is an expert in archery and ducked his head to avoid the flying arrow.

    However, one of his earlobes is torn off.

    Puff-puff!

    Arrow after arrow flew from an unseen angle.

    The attacker seemed to be well-adapted to these woods.

    It was only in the area of surprise that Vikir found it difficult to react.

    Reading the approximate direction of the arrows, Vikir was dodging them with ease.

    ''About 74 meters.''

    The arrows were clearlying from a single person.

    They all have their own unique heaviness.

    While Imperial archery was usually sharp, this archery felt more like a cannon, as if the arrows were being fired with real force.

    It''s also different from Bk''s archery.

    Something about this archery is very familiar.

    ''This is....''

    And with that, Vikir tries to deduce information about the attackers,

    Shae''ek-!

    A flying arrow pierces the rocks behind him.

    sh!

    A dull iron light sprayed in front of him.

    An extremely small dot shoots out in front of him.

    It was a spear.

    Since it is stretched out in a straight line, only the front view is visible, and the side view is not visible.

    As fast as an arrow, the spear was like a bolt of lightning striking horizontally.

    It was aimed directly at Vikir''s eyes.

    ...Tada!

    Next, two monsters appeared in front of Vikir''s eyes.

    A man in his mid-twenties and a woman in her mid-twenties.

    Both were nearly naked, their bodies covered in animal skins and leaves.

    The man was covered in mud and grass, so it was clear that he was probably hiding in the ground. The woman, on the other hand, had already dried the mud on her body.

    ''Abination of ranged and melee.''

    The man was carrying a long spear and the woman was carrying arge bow, which seemed like a good match.

    Swoosh-pass!

    The man swings his spear to create a gap, and the arrow from the woman fires right through it.

    This was a coordinated draw attack, where the arrow didn''t fill in the gap left by the spear, but rather the arrow finished off the path that the spear had deliberately created.

    A high-levelbination that would be impossible to pull off except between partners who had been practicing together for a very long time.

    ... But Vikir was a seasoned veteran who had rolled on the battlefield dozens, perhaps hundreds, of times the amount of time they would havebined.

    kkilig- kwagig!

    Vikir grabbed the spear that was digging into the sr plexus with his hand and spun it around to break it.

    ...Thud!

    The man tries to hold on to the spear, but he''s outmatched in strength stats.

    Seeing the spearman''s wrist snap, Vikir immediately pulled the spear away.

    hwaeg- kwaag!

    Reaching for the spearman''s throat like a snake, Vikir tightened his grip.

    "...kuhg!"

    Vikir grabbed the man by the throat and mmed him right into the ground.

    The woman behind him jumped back in horror.

    Puff-puff-puff!

    With the man in danger, she used her superhuman strength to fire four arrows at once.

    All while running!

    But Vikir took a step back and at the same time stretched out his other hand forward.

    The arrows are visible in real time as they slip through his five outstretched fingers.

    ''It''s helping that I raised my Reflexes stat.''

    Even though it was only a 1 increase, the effect was amazing, as it was like having a stat that didn''t exist at all.

    ...Charak!

    Vikir caught all four of the flying arrows with a single movement of his hand.

    "No, no way!"

    The woman muttered in disbelief.

    Just then, the man who had been grabbed by the throat by Vikir''s hand cried out with all his might.

    "Don''te!"

    The man was warning the woman.

    His voice was so desperate that even as Vikir pressed down with his knees, his entire body shook.

    "Run away, you''re in danger!"

    "... But you''ve been caught, how can I leave!"

    "Go! Go and call for backup!"

    "No! I can''t go!"

    The woman ignored the man''s words. She gritted her teeth and drew the dagger she wore on her thigh.

    She was about to charge at Vikir, even if it meant giving up her life.

    Then. Vikir opened his mouth with a light sigh.

    "That''s enough. Don Quixote, Usher."

    For a moment, the struggling man and woman stopped moving.

    "...!?"

    "...!?"

    Through the leaves, I see a pair of eyes wide open.

    Don Quixote of the spear. Usher of the bow.

    It wasn''t every day that two people came from such prestigious families.

    Then, their mouths opened at the same time.

    "...Vikir!"

    They scrambled to their feet, wiping the dirt and leaves from their faces.

    They were Tudor and Bianca!

    They were both surprised and delighted to see their friends for the first time since entering the tower.

    But Tudor and Bianca weren''t the only ones who were surprised.

    Vikir was also stunned as he jumped out of his seat.

    "...!"

    The two of them removed their leaf masks and muddy makeup to reveal their bare faces.

    They looked at least ten years older.

 Chapter 342: Balak (2)

    <h4>Chapter 342: Bk (2)</h4>

    Tudor and Bianca.

    Vikir looked at the two, who had both grown up by now, with a strange gaze.

    "...."

    Memories of the time before the regression came flooding back.

    The true intentions of the two heroes, who had been bickering for a lifetime, were revealed during the Fifth Battle, when humanity was at its most vulnerable.

    At that time, the arch-demon Amdusias, who was leading the Demon Tree Legion, used the roots of countless demons to hinder the human alliance.

    Among them, the one that hindered humanity the most was the Blood Daylily.

    Growing in any terrain with water, this terrible monster was a great threat to human soldiers inbat, but many times more dangerous to those retreating after losing a battle.

    There was a moment when Vikir was retreating with arrows piercing his body, only to find his path blocked by a river swollen by a sudden rain and the blood daylilies that were everywhere, waiting to kill him.

    The heroine who stepped forward in the midst of this dire situation was the Usher family''s Usher P Bianca.

    She fired an arrow of fire with all her might, exploding all the dense blood daylilies and giving the survivors ast chance to escape.

    However, after saving countless soldiers, Bianca herself was trapped by the roots of the many daylilies and was unable to escape.

    ...And. As she was about to give up her life, herst shield appeared in front of her, and he was Don Quixote La Mancha Tudor.

    ''Run, you''re in danger!''

    ''... But how can I go when you''ve been captured!''

    ''Go! Go and call for backup!

    ''No! I can''t go!''

    Just like the conversation just now, the two heroes were bickering with each other back then as well.

    In the end, Tudor''s efforts to save Bianca and the other survivors cost him his life as he tried to block the explosion with his body.

    Bianca clutches Tudor''s charred body in her arms.

    Vikir can still see the dazed look on Bianca''s face as she was left alone.

    The death of a man she had known her whole life as an adversary, a childhood friend, and a lover.

    An eternal goodbye, one she''d never spoken to, one she''d never whispered her love to.

    None of the survivors could speak of the rain showers that poured down over the burned earth, or the image of Bianca sitting in the rain with her arms around Tudor.

    And Vikir had watched it all from behind.

    ''...Then, it was from the point of view of a mere soldier 1, watching the great heroes from afar.''

    But now, Tudor and Bianca stand here.

    Facing Amdusias, who separated them before the regression, much earlier than expected.

    And this time, the reliable veteran Vikir stood before them.

    ''Fear not. In this life, Amdusias will die by my hand.''

    That way, Tudor and Bianca would not face a tragic future.

    Vikir sincerely hoped so.

    "Ouch! Why didn''t you run away earlier, when I told you to!"

    "I was just pissed off!"

    "Then be a good girl, you only grabbed my ankle!"

    "That''s ridiculous! You''re the one who got grabbed by the neck by Vikir!"

    "You think I got caught because I''m weak! Vikir is stronger! And you would have been caught too!"

    "Are you a bowman or a spearman? I can''t take one of those crap!"

    "In the future, go when you have to."

    "It''s up to me!"

    They''ll continue to bicker like they do now, affirming each other''s preciousness.

    Together, perhaps forever.

    "...."

    Vikir stroked his chin in silence.

    It was time to analyze the reality at hand.

    Vikir realized that Tudor and Bianca had changed a lot since he had seen them.

    They were taller, with more bone and muscle.

    In Tudor''s case, his jaw has thickened and his voice has deepened, making him look more mature.

    Bianca''s body shape has also changed in many ways.

    Most importantly, their auras have increased to a level that is unparalleled.

    "...How long have you guys been on this floor?"

    Vikir asked, and Tudor shook his head.

    "I think we''ve been here for over a week. It feels like it."

    "By the feel of it, yes. If you count the sun rising and setting, it''s exactly 2,555 days today. Seven years."

    Bianca had the right answer.

    She had only been on this floor for a little over a week, but in the time of this floor alone, seven years had passed.

    The ever-positive Tudor hissed and swung the spear at her back.

    "It''s good that a little bit of training here is worth a whole day''s training, seven years'' worth in one go, right?"

    "On the other hand, don''t you realize that you''ll grow old just as fast?"

    "What the hell, I''m still young."

    "Hey, you burn out, who knew how much longer I would be trapped on this floor...."

    "That''s a question for another time. Right now, the answer is to train hard!"

    Tudor could only smirk at Bianca''s tangy words.

    Vikir nodded.

    From what he''d seen earlier, Tudor and Bianca''s skills had improved tremendously.

    They''ve adapted to the harsh conditions of the jungle, and they''ve practiced tirelessly in between.

    Add to that the passage of time, and their progress must have been swift.

    ''This tower is not called the Tower of Opportunity for nothing.''

    The trials thrown by the demon were certainly harsh, but humans have the ability to use them to build upon themselves.

    That''s why mankind survived that terrifying battle of destruction.

    Just then, Tudor tapped Vikir on the shoulder.

    "Come on, let''s get to their. I have more friends for you to meet."

    "Who else is on this floor?"

    "Of course. Don''t freak out! Piggy and Sancho are with us! Hahaha! They''ll be so happy to see you, they might even faint. We''ve saved up a lot of food, let''s have a barbecue party today!"

    Tudor patted Vikir on the back and headed into the bushes.

    He grinned from ear to ear in anticipation of the tearful reunion toe.

    "That''s it. On the previous stage, Sinir was also there... Well, the mission didn''t go well, so I only sent Sinir down. The remaining four of us fell into this forest due to a penalty or something, but the daylilies outside don''t attack you unless you get close to the water, so we''re okay. Well, the real problem was ''somewhere else''... hmm!?"

    But Tudor didn''t finish his sentence.

    The color drained from his face and the smile vanished.

    He was right, for all that remained of the wide-open in beyond the bush were ruins.

    A hut, apparently made of stones and logs, waspletely destroyed.

    In what appeared to be a warehouse, broken sacks were rolling around, and grains and fruits were rolling around.

    And in the center of it all, two men sit, looking dejected.

    They had grown beards and were taller, but Vikir recognized them at a nce.

    Sancho and Piggy. The two men guarding their looked up at Tudor and Bianca.

    "...eh!?"

    Their helpless gazes suddenly came alive.

    "Vikir!"

    Sancho, now much taller, and Piggy, now looking quite grown up, ran over.

    "Uh, how did Vikir get here!"

    "Are we the ship owners this time?"

    They grabbed Vikir''s hand and shook it wildly, unable to contain their excitement.

    Meanwhile, Tudor and Bianca were looking around with serious expressions on their faces.

    " ...Is this what ''those guys'' did?"

    "They stole all our food. While we were away."

    Sancho nodded.

    "We tried to fight them off, but we were outnumbered. And their individual strength was superior. We were barely able to hold on for our lives."

    Sancho and Piggy were covered in wounds, as if the battle had been quite intense.

    Tudor gritted his teeth.

    "Shit. This is the ''other problem'' I was talking about earlier. This is far more troublesome than the blood daylilies. Here we are, meeting Vikir, and we can''t even have a barbecue."

    Then.

    Vikir noticed something strange.

    The color of the blood oozing from Piggy''s wound.

    "Piggy. Is your blood naturally ck?"

    "Huh? Aaah, it''s always been like this, huh? I''m not demonized or anything! It''s been like this since I was a kid! The doctors said it''s because there''s a lot of iron in my blood... but it seems like it''s gotten a little darker since I''ve been in the Hell Tree?"

    "Hmm."

    Bianca, who hade back from surveying the damage, spoke up just as Vikir was showing interest in something other than food.

    "That''s not the point right now, we''ve lost all the food we''ve been saving, and at this rate, we won''t even have enough to eat tomorrow, let aloneplete the mission, let alone ... the barbecue."

    "What''s the mission?"

    Vikir asked, and Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca simultaneously popped up a status window above their heads.

    <Mission> �C Die and Kill!

    ��Each and every one of the ship''s owners possesses powerful powers! Living is inherently difficult~

    �� Recognized only if everyone clears the mission!

    Apparently, Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca were fighting the shipowners who had arrived on this floor first.

    "We don''t know who they are either. We''re guessing barbarians, but we''re not sure."

    "It is clear that we are hostile towards each other. We arepeting with this side for food."

    "They are incredibly fast and strong, and we''ve lost all the food we''ve gathered."

    "They are skilled with the bow, perhaps rivaling the archery of the Divine Archers...."

    Apparently, the force of the ship owners attacking this way was considerable.

    The arrowheads embedded inrge boulders and thick logs proved it.

    Holes that spiraled in circles, as if a tremendous rotational force had been applied.

    Shots twisting and turning in every direction, front, back, left, right, and center.

    And Vikir knew people who shot arrows this way.

    "...I have a hunch."

    Vikir began to walk in one direction, retracing the tracks of the battle.

    "Huh? If we go that way, we''ll be in the territory of those shipowners."

    "Head-onbat is dangerous, Vikir."

    "But I feel strangely confident, why?"

    "Well, it''s only been the four of us so far, and with Vikir on board, who knows?"

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca unwittingly followed Vikir''s lead.

    Towards the base of seasoned ship owners who have lived on this floor for a very long time.

 Chapter 343: Balak (3)

    <h4>Chapter 343: Bk (3)</h4>

    The jungle on the 11th floor of the basement was a horrible ce, reminiscent of the floods of the Red and ck Mountains.

    Venomous scarabs, bone-sucking mosquitoes, vines armed with spikes like awls, berries as heavy as maces, narrow, deep cliffs cleverly covered in rotting leaves...

    A normal person would not have been able to survive half a day in this forest, let alone make it through.

    Moreover, it is now night, and the darkness has descended to an unbearable depth.

    It was an ambitious time to be wandering around, even for the ship''s owners, who were the original inhabitants of this jungle.

    But.

    Pasasak.

    Vikir moved freely through the forest as if it were his own home.

    He carried Cerberus'' fur against the wind to keep other beasts at bay, found cliffs hidden by fallen leaves and scaled them, and cut open the air sacs of overgrown daylilies to release gas to scare away poisonous insects.

    The spiderweb on his left hand, spun by the cub, bridged the gap between cliff and cliff so effortlessly that it would have taken hours to climb.

    It was all done with such skill and familiarity, as if he''d been doing this for decades.

    Naturally, Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca, who were following Vikir, couldn''t help but be speechless.

    "This is even more amazing than when we realized Vikir was actually Night Hound. How does he move so well?"

    "I don''t think even Basilios, the mercenary king of the North, could do this..."

    "What, are you saying that Vikir is Night Hound? No, what does that mean?"

    "When I saw him earlier, he was wearing the mask of Night Hound. I''ll ask him what happenedter."

    Meanwhile, Vikir was having a shback.

    ''It''s like old times.''

    Two memoriese to mind.

    The age of destruction, before the regression.

    A harsh time when survival depended not just on swordsmanship, but on herbal gathering, scouting, searching, stealth, ambush, assassination, pharmacy, healing, cooking, and everything else.

    Another memory was the two years he spent in the depth of the Red and ck Mountains.

    ...Spot!

    Vikir sliced through the rotting log that stood in his way, halfway across the room.

    The aura of the Graduator, vibrating and spinning at the tip of the sword at lightning speed, sliced through everything in an instant.

    And Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca, seeing its power, must once again be horrified.

    "Vi, Vikir. What level are you?"

    "Oh my god, how many stats have you raised?"

    "You''ve been strong since you were outside the tower?"

    "...He''s a guy with a lot of secrets."

    And then.

    ...Stop!

    Vikir, who had been walking ahead, stopped.

    Looking at the footprints in the mud on the ground, Vikir checked the direction of the wind, then crouched low and circled behind a bush.

    To hide his scent.

    Beyond the thick darkness, he could see a faint beam of light.

    A dozen or so people gathered around a small campfire.

    Pow!

    Tudor gritted his teeth.

    "That''s them, shipowners. The ones who stole our food."

    The tower''s challengers had been on this floor before Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca.

    They were all middle-aged warriors with sturdy builds.

    Their faces were smeared with mud and their bodies covered in animal skins and leaves.

    Their bodies, covered with copper-colored muscles, were tattooed with intricate designs, but strangely, the colors were quite pale and blurry.

    Beside him, Tudor whispered in a low voice.

    "Theyid something like dry gravel near the campground. If you step on it, it makes a loud noise and breaks."

    "I know. Let''s get closer while clearing away the scoundrels."

    Vikir approached carefully, avoiding the dry gravel on the ground.

    After a slow crawl that covered only a few meters in an hour, Vikir was able to close in on the food thieves.

    ...ppagag!

    Vikir trampled all the trees and bushes and appeared right in front of the bonfire.

    "Give me the food."

    The raiders were startled by Vikir''s appearance, who had approached this far without sound or sign, and grabbed the bows and arrows beside them.

    Ping-!

    The arrows flew.

    Each of the raiders was sending arrows flying with an all-too-familiar motion, as if they were masters of the bow.

    And as the arrows flew, Vikir was certain.

    ''Warriors of Bk.''

    He had heard of their mysterious disappearance before entering the tower, from Cindy Wendy''s report.

    He was worried about their whereabouts, but he never thought they''d be trapped in the abyss of Amdusias.

    ''At least they''re still alive.''

    Vikir thought to himself that this was going to be surprisingly easy.

    Next, Vikir removed the mask from his face, revealing the tattoo on his shoulder.

    It was a tattoo of Bk''s hunting grounds.

    "Enough. It''s me."

    There was no way Bk, or any of the warriors of the native tribes of the Red and ck Mountains, would not recognize Vikir.

    Vikir was the hero who had saved all their tribes from the dreaded gue of the Red Death, as well as a massive flood.

    ... However.

    Things had taken an unexpected turn.

    "...What is that guy?"

    "Why does he have a tattoo of the hunting grounds?"

    "Does anyone know him?"

    "I don''t know him. Beat him up!"

    Bk''s warriors didn''t seem to recognize Vikir at all.

    They were old enough to be Bk''s warriors, judging by the tattoos on their shoulders, their archery, the ck ash that painted their faces, and thenguage they spoke.

    But somehow they didn''t remember Vikir at all.

    Pow!

    Vikir was forced to take a few steps backwards to avoid a full-blown arrow.

    ''Warriors this old don''t recognize me?''

    Vikir sheathed his sword with some doubt.

    "Can''t you tell?"

    A Baskerville-style swordy unfolded.

    It was something the warriors of Bk, who had spent their lives fighting against the Baskervilles, could not fail to recognize.

    But.

    "This guy uses a strange sword technique!"

    "Hmph! A tooth-shaped sh?"

    "I''ve never seen anything like that!"

    "Do not engage, fight at a distance!"

    Bk''s warriors still didn''t recognize Vikir.

    They just stood there, strangely confused.

    ''I don''t think my memory is failing me, but something is wrong.''

    Vikir furrowed his brow.

    Surely the people in front of him were Bk''s warriors.

    But for some reason, they were acting as if they had no memory of Vikir at all.

    They showed no signs of having been affected by mind magic.

    Vikir shrugged it off.

    "If you''ve forgotten, I''ll have to remind you, how I went from being a foreign ve to being your hunting ground."

    At the same time, Vikir pulled out an item.

    It was the one hidden piece that Vikir, who had so far imed no need for items and epted all of his rewards as candy, only wanted.

    -<Scale of Forced Equality> / Scales / S

    The values ??of other stats also change depending on the value of the highest stat you have.

    The values of all stats will gradually and slowly increase in line with the value of the highest stat, and this change will continue until all stats are equal.

    Vikir opens a status window with a golden scale in hand.

    <Vikir>.

    -LV: 1 (%)

    -Title: "Gutter Rat Hunter", "Hell Dog", "Daylily Lumberjack", "Majin Executioner", "ck Sea King''s Executioner", "Ryumajin''s Favorite Enemy" (NEW)

    -Stats

    Strength: 798

    ?Agility: 92

    ?Stamina: 100

    ?Physical Resistance: 1

    ?Magic resistance: 1

    ?Reflexes: 1

    Vikir''s three primary stats, Strength, Agility, and Stamina, were originally set at 300 each, for a total of 900.

    But now, Vikir''s three stats total 990.

    Almost all of it was in Strength.

    That was because Vikir had exchanged the stats he had gained on the previous floor, Lost Paradise, for candy, and then absorbed and redistributed them again.

    <This is thergest candy store in the tower>.

    <Challengers can exchange their items for candy here>

    <Even candy that has already been eaten and be stats can be vomited out and turned into candy, especially for residents of this floor!>

    <If you vomit out candy that was consumed before entering this floor, you will receive an additional 1 candy for every 10 candies you vomit out!>

    Vikir wasn''t nning on using the shop, but he turned his stats into candy and got an extra 1 candy for every 10.

    And then he ate it all again.

    ''...I''ve just taken the bait in a trapid by demons.''

    I''m sure Amdusias and his minions would be wailing and gnashing their teeth if they found out.

    Vikir was rewarded with the most red candy, the mostmon candy, based on probability.

    Green candies for agility and blue candies for stamina were rare, but this was all the better for Vikir.

    That''s because Vikir was in possession of the aforementioned Scales of Forced Equality.

    It''s a temporary item that gradually raises all of your stats to match your highest stat, and it disappears when all of your stats are equalized.

    ''It was originally an item I obtained to increase the special 3 stats by at least 1, not the basic 3 stats....''

    The rate at which stats are increased by these scales is extremely slow, so there''s not much of a benefit to challengers anyway.

    In order to utilize this item to its full potential, you''ll need to spend a very long time in the tower, until all of your youth is gone.

    By the time you get strong enough to do so, you''ll be an old man, so what''s the point?

    ... However.

    "Good, because in this jungle time flows like water."

    Vikir was getting older by the hour.

    His hair was growing at a rapid rate, his bones and muscles thickening.

    His voice grew thicker, and the lines on his face began to darken.

    And naturally, Vikir''s stats began to change ordingly.

    -Ding!

    [The item ''Scales of Forced Equality'' is starting to forcefully bnce stats!]

    [The ''Strength'' stat is out of bnce with the other stats!]

    [Other stats are being forced to adjust to the ''Strength'' stat''s value of ''798''!]

    [The ''Agility'' stat will be increased by ''1'' from ''92'' to be ''93''!]

    [This change will continue until the ''Agility'' stat reads ''798''!]

    [The ''Stamina'' stat increases by ''1'' from ''100'' to be ''101''!]

    [This change willst until the value of your ''Stamina'' stat reaches ''798''!]

    [The ''Physical Resistance'' stat increases by ''1'' from ''1'' to be ''2''!]

    [This change willst until the value of your ''Physical Resistance'' stat is ''798''!]

    [The ''Magic Resistance'' stat is increased by ''1'' from ''1'' to be ''2''!]

    [This change willst until the ''Magic Resistance'' stat reaches a value of ''798''!]

    [The ''Reflexes'' stat is increased by ''1'' from ''1'' to be ''2''!]

    [This changests until the value of your ''Reflexes'' stat reaches ''798''!]

    [The ''Agility'' stat increases by ''1'', from ''93'', to be ''94''...]

    [The ''Stamina'' stat increased by ''1'' from ''101'' to be ''102''...]

    [Physical resistance stat increased by ''1'' from ''2'' to be ''3''...]

    [Magic Resistance'' stat increased by ''1'' from ''2'' to be...]

    [''Reflexes'' stat increased by ''1'' from ''2''...]

    .

    .

    The highest stat, Strength, is now 798.

    And all six of Vikir''s blooming stats were increasing by 1 to match this 798 number.

    <11th floor underground. ''River of Flow''>

    A wave of time flowing like a river.

    It was entirely on Vikir''s side.

 Chapter 344: Balak (4)

    <h4>Chapter 344: Bk (4)</h4>

    <Underground Level 11, ''River of Flow''

    This is a strange ce indeed.

    Time passes faster for creatures that move faster, and slower for creatures that move slower.

    This is aw that holds true in the normal world, but in this tower, the phenomenon is especially noticeable.

    Vikir moves at breakneck speed, and each time he does, his stats are boosted by the effects of his items.

    -Ding!

    [''Agility'' stat increased by ''1''...]

    [Stamina stat increased by 1 to...]

    [Your ''Physical Resistance'' stat increased by 1 to...]

    [Magic resistance stat increased by ''1'' to...]

    [Reflexes stat increased by ''1'' to...]

    .

    .

    Vikir''s stats were rising at an incredible rate as he moved more violently, more violently, and more destructively.

    kkadag-

    Vikir dodged a flying arrow with a simple tilt of his head.

    An extremely frugal move, an evasion without waste.

    Not only has his reflexes blossomed, but he is also growing, so something like this bes possible.

    Natural Gifted.

    An extremely rare talent, possessed by only a few individuals throughout human history.

    Vikir, an all-rounder, was naturally born without it, but that all changed when he entered the tower.

    All the innate and natural things he had been denied simply because he was unlucky, he could now im them all here.

    jjuuug-

    His vision expanded, then contracted, then expanded again.

    The passage of time was strangely distorted.

    It feels like he''s living on a different time axis than everyone else.

    It''s as if everything is moving slowly on purpose.

    ''...Even though time is passing several times faster, it seems as if it has stopped. Is this the realm of the gifted?''

    Stepping forward to avoid the arrows that almost stopped in front of him was as easy as walking around a boulder or tree that stood still.

    And with each passing moment, it was getting easier and easier.

    That''s because his reflexes stats kept going up.

    ''It was originally an item I got to increase my 6 stats and 3 special stats by 1, but I never thought I''d hit the jackpot in a ce like this....''

    The levels in the Hell Tree are random and have different locations and characteristics, so I never thought I''d find a ce where time warps so quickly.

    Even the windfalls were not like this.

    Once your stats go up, they never go down.

    They stay the same whether you''re in the tower or outside.

    Of course, if you leave the tower, you won''t be able to see your stats.

    ''If I were to leave the tower, I could... really reach the 8th Form. Even without the help of a saint!''

    The Baskerville 8th Form is more powerful than any officially recognized sword form.

    Even Hugo, the iron-blooded swordman patriarch of Baskerville, could only reach seventh dan after a lifetime of training.

    ''... But that would have been the story when I left.''

    In order to escape the tower, you must first focus on reality.

    ...teoeog! bing-geul-

    Vikir grabbed the arm of the warrior charging at him with his dagger and twisted it back.

    Crunch-

    With a crunch of bones, the Bk warrior fell to the mud.

    ...pongdang!

    Warriors who fell into the mud often dropped golden candies.

    "I guess it''s because they''re ship owners, so their level is high, right? The dropped items are also of a high level."

    Vikir said as he picked up the golden candies that had fallen into the mud.

    The warriors cowered in fear at the sight of such force and the fluency of the Bk''snguage.

    Meanwhile, Vikir checked the golden candies in his hand.

    ''...I wonder if I should have just switched to regr candies instead of collecting golden candies, then my maximum gain would have been much higher, not just 798.''

    But that''s too short-sighted.

    The golden candy levels you up, and it increases your stats in %.

    Therefore, its effect could be maximized only when used at ''critical moments.''

    With achievement rewards and other considerations, it''s best to save the golden candy forter.

    Crunch-clunk-clunk!

    Vikir craned his neck from side to side.

    Vikir''s vision had improved to the point where he could see his reflection in the dewdrops on the tips of the pine needles in the distance.

    He seemed to have grown several centimeters taller.

    His arms and legs were longer.

    His body had put on several years of age as a result of moving so much faster than anyone else.

    ''I''ll probably end up back to the age I was before I regressed.''

    Not a bad idea. Because I''m more familiar with that side than the image of a young boy.

    It seems like the surroundings might be a little less noisy.

    peoeog- udeug! kwagig!

    Vikir continued to swing his sword.

    His snake-like aura slices through the flying arrows and targets the archers behind him.

    Bk''s warriors ducked and dodged, but Vikir''s blows tore through rocks, logs, and other obstacles in their path.

    "Is he a shipowner, too? That can''t be right!"

    "How can a novice have such power! We''re no match for him!"

    "Damn it! This is out of standard! What are those fairies doing!"

    "Sah, the hunting leader muste, Otherwise...!"

    Even the brave and warlike warriors of Bk eventually lost their will to fight.

    ...Bang!

    Vikir grabbed one of the fleeing warriors by the scruff of the neck and mmed him to the ground.

    Whirl-

    He twisted his body just before hitting the ground, minimizing the impact.

    Still, it was enough to immobilize him for a while, but at least he was spared from being knocked out.

    A moment. Vikir was a little surprised.

    Not because the fallen warrior was an elderly man with graying hair who looked to be the oldest of the group.

    ''This guy uses Baskerville style, doesn''t he?''

    Vikir had taught Bk''s warriors the basics of Baskerville style when he had lived among them.

    However, Bk''s martial arts were far more advanced than the Baskervilles'', and the more experienced warriors hadn''t bothered to learn Vikir''s techniques.

    ''...What happened?''

    Vikir scratched his head.

    But even as he wondered, Vikir''s hands slowly grabbed the enemy''s wrists and elbows and twisted them.

    udeug! ppudeudeug!

    Vikir said as he snapped the arm of the oldest warrior he had just captured.

    "This is what you''ll all look like if you try to fight me."

    If the oldest and strongest warrior was like this, there was no way the others could resist.

    "...."

    "...."

    "...."

    Bk''s warriors were speechless.

    Helpless. An entity outside the norm that hadn''t been on the floor before had suddenly appeared and was exerting overwhelming force, and they were helpless, even if they were normally warlike and brave.

    Then. There were voices interrupting them.

    "It''s bad, you barbarians!"

    "I understand. You''ve never seen anything like this before. I feel thrilled when I see it, but you must be so appalled."

    "But how did you get so strong, or were you always strong?"

    "Oh, yeah, you were the one on the rooftop smelling like rum on entrance day, I recognized you!"

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca appeared from behind Vikir.

    "Hey, look at the size of their food pouches, Vikir! Don''t stop me! I''m not going to let them take my...!"

    "I got everything back. The ones we farmed and hunted to death."

    "Hmph- my tomatoes, radishes, and cabbage! I worked so hard to grow them!"

    "Aaah! I even found my salted pork! Ugh, I risked my life to go to a Daylily colony to get salt...."

    But Vikir reached out and blocked the path of Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca.

    Vikir''s gaze was on something other than the recovered food.

    ...Sparkle!

    Something shone from the ear of the warrior they had just captured.

    It was definitely an earring.

    ss bead earrings with some traces of modernity on them.

    And with Vikir''s enhanced vision, he could make out the words etched into the surface of the ss bead, so worn and tattered by the elements that they were now barely more than a faint color.

    ''Made in CindyWendy studio''

    It was obviously one of the first items CindyWendy had selected for trade with the Bk, a trinket for the Bk''s infants.

    ''Why is she wearing this?''

    Vikir scratched his head.

    PING-

    An arrow flew from the front.

    It flew with a force and speed that not even Vikir dared to ignore.

    "...!"

    Vikir deflected the arrow with the back of his sword.

    A dull thud of pain echoed through his wrist.

    Vikir dropped the warrior he had captured and stepped back, and a new warrior appeared in the center of the battlefield.

    A woman with long, flowing hair.

    She looks to be in her early thirties, but the aura she exudes is decades older, fierce and seasoned.

    For a moment, Vikir thought she reminded him of the Bk chieftain Aqu.

    ''... This woman is going to be a little tough.''

    For the first time, he broke out in a cold sweat.

    The female warrior in front of him was such a powerful opponent that even Vikir, who had all six of his stats in bloom, couldn''t guarantee a victory.

    She wasn''t quite the Ryumajin he''d encountered on the previous floor, but she was certainly a more difficult opponent than Cerberus, Blood Daylily, and the ck Sea King.

    Vikir was tensely holding the tip of his sword.

    ...teoeog!

    Something surprising happened.

    A female warrior, the most senior of the group, stepped forward and knelt down on one knee in front of Vikir.

    "Greetings from the hunting grounds of Bk."

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and all of Bk''s warriors, even Vikir, were stunned.

    Vikir stared into the face of the woman kneeling before him.

    A woman who looked to be about middle-aged, with a strength that reminded him of Aqu.

    When you''ve had a rtionship with a warrior of this caliber, it''s hard to forget.

    "...?"

    Vikir thought hard, hoping there was something he didn''t remember.

    And then.

    "...!"

    Vikir''s eyes widened at the sight of a familiar face.

    It is something that can only be seen once the dignity of a seasoned veteran has been removed, a legacy that has been gained through countless experiences and the passage of time.

    It''s the face of a child.

    ''...I wonder if I can get a ss bead?''

    It was an old memory with a little girl who wanted to turn a caterpir into a ss bead.

 Chapter 345: Balak (5)

    <h4>Chapter 345: Bk (5)</h4>

    A child who ate one-pot meals for two years in the depths of the Red and ck Mountains.

    ''The girl you helped today is his sister. Her name is Ahul.''

    Vikir thought for a moment and remembered a girl named Ahul.

    The young girl who had once lined up outside the barracks at dawn to be Vikir''s wife.

    They had grown very close after Vikir rescued her from being mocked and sexually harassed by Bourgeois merchants.

    ''Ahul was always weak. I was worried that she was getting weaker and weaker due to an unexined illness, but now that I think about it, it might have been the ss beads that those merchants brought with them.''

    Vikir found the earrings that were causing Ahul''s health to deteriorate and removed all the drugs that were in them, and she was able to regain her health.

    But Vikir hadn''t seen the girl since leaving jungle.

    "...You''ve grown up a lot."

    Vikir said with a somewhat dazed expression.

    On the surface, the girl in front of him looked to be in her early to mid-30s.

    However, what he heard was that she was actually closer to sixty.

    Ahul gave him a watery gaze and said.

    "It''s been a while, big brother."

    * * *

    "What happened?"

    At Vikir''s question, Ahul told him everything.

    After Vikir''s departure, trade opened up and Bk began peace negotiations with the Empire in earnest.

    At first, everything seemed to be going well.

    It would have been like that if it weren''t for the ''unusual'' that suddenly appeared one day.

    Amdusias. Without Winston''s body, the demon appeared under its own power and attacked Bk''s warriors.

    ''I''vee to capture the Madame of the Depths, but I can''t find it, so I need to catch you guys instead.''

    He seemed to be gathering terrain for the Hell Tree, just simple entertainment.

    But the demon''s entertainment demanded the blood of too many.

    Bk''s warriors had the battle of their lives against the unicorn, who had begun toy waste to the vige.

    In the process, the chieftainess Aqu was killed.

    She died with a fatal wound on the horns of Amdusias.

    She had never fully recovered from the wounds she had sustained in her battle with Adonai, and this proved to be the final straw.

    "The other warriors were also scattered. The attacking unicorn was too strong...."

    "Why did you end up here?"

    "I was hiding in the ruins at the time, protecting the newborns. Then I woke up and realized I was here...."

    Listening to Ahul''s story, Vikir nodded.

    It made sense now.

    It''s been a while since we''ve heard reports of the disappearance of Bk''s warriors.

    It makes sense that Ahul, who was in her early teens when she was swallowed up by the Hell Tree, would have aged so much since arriving on this ne.

    It also exined why the middle-aged warriors who followed Ahul hadn''t recognized Vikir, as they would have been infants at the time.

    "I see. That''s why your tattoos are so faded. They were done as infants, and the color faded as your skin stretched."

    Vikir turned his head and made eye contact with the female warriors he had captured earlier.

    He remembered that when he had once taught the warriors of Bk the Baskervilles'' fighting styles, the adult warriors had shown no interest in learning such things, but some of the very younger ones had followed him around, eager to learn them.

    "You must be Ajin, and you must be Ami."

    "Huh!?"

    "Hah!?"

    The two middle-aged warriors who had been addressed by the names Vikir had scrounged from his memory each gulped down their huffs.

    Meanwhile. Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca were questioning Vikir''s acquaintance with the so-called barbarians of Bk.

    Vikir kept his exnation short.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca were stunned to hear that Vikir and the Bk warriors were like family.

    "You''re from the West, Vikir! Night Hound, Bk''s hunting grounds, a student at the Coliseo Academy, and... how many identities do you have?"

    "Amazing, a Bk and an Imperial can live together."

    "Well, yes. I heard the Bk warriors are very closed-minded."

    "That''s why you''re such a good archer, somehow...."

    Vikir looked away again.

    Ahul was looking apologetically at Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca.

    In fact, the mission that the shipowners, that is, Bk''s warriors, received was the same.

    <Mission> �C Die and Kill!

    �� Don''t let your guard down! Laters be increasingly stronger as time goes by! If you don''t want to be caught up, even if you''re a ship owner, you have to work hard, right?

    ��Recognized only when everyone has cleared the mission!

    Ahul and the other warriors must also kill Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca.

    But the good-hearted Ahul doesn''t want to kill them, so instead, she had no choice but to engage in a regr fight because they only took food.

    "Didn''t you ever think about joining forces and doing something about it?"

    "It''s not that we didn''t, but if we tantly create a peaceful atmosphere, the fairies show up and ruin everything, like giving us missions where we have to kill each other outright...."

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca nodded at Ahul''s words.

    They, too, had been parted from Sinir in the pursuit of peace.

    Ahul sighed deeply.

    "I''m worried about what happened to the others, especially my brother and the chief...."

    Ahul was worried about her brother, Ahun.

    And the other one, the ''she'' who remained the most intense in Vikir''s memory.

    ''...Aiyen.''

    Vikir stroked his chin for a moment.

    They hadn''t been brought into this tower.

    So what had happened to them?

    "We''re lucky to be here, to be alive now, but what if... if those who didn''t make it here had suffered a more miserable fate...."

    "...."

    Vikir put a hand on Ahul''s shoulder.

    "Don''t think bad thoughts. You''ll just have to go out and see for yourself."

    "...Can I get out of here?"

    "Of course."

    Vikir told Ahul everything he knew about the tower.

    The Hell Tree. The Worldview Absorber. Amdusias''s strange hobby.

    Ahul''s mouth hung half open as she listened, almost as if it were a runescape.

    "So... this ce was created by a demon by piecing together parts of entire worlds, and if you clear a level, the world and its inhabitants are freed?"

    "Half right, half wrong. There is no liberation. Until you clear the tower."

    Vikir remembered the Insectking he had encountered in the ck Sea not long ago.

    The Insectking race who tried to leave the tower were struck by lightning and reduced to ashes.

    Perhaps they had failed to make the escape they had hoped for.

    ''This tower is especially unforgiving of quitters.''

    Vikir had urged Ahul and the other Bk warriors not to abandon the mission halfway through.

    Whether it''s porridge or rice, you have to go to the end.

    "My brother is still trustworthy."

    Ahul had been sending envious nces toward Vikir.

    Then. Tudor stepped forward.

    "...Uh, excuse me. Sorry to interrupt, but what about the mission?"

    It was a reasonable question.

    <Mission> �C Die and Kill!

    �� Each ship owner has powerful powers! Living is inherently difficult~

    �� Recognized only when everyone has cleared the mission!

    <Mission> �C Die and Kill!

    �� Don''t let your guard down! Laters be increasingly stronger as time goes by! If you don''t want to be caught up, even if you''re a ship owner, you have to work hard, right?

    �� Recognized only when everyone has cleared the mission!

    Both sides are given the same mission, which means killing the other group.

    If you don''t, you can''tplete the mission. You''ll be stuck on this floor forever.

    "...In the end, you have to choose."

    Piggy spoke up, his voice trembling with anxiety.

    The Colosseo Academy or the Bk.

    Only one of the two groups could leave this floor alive.

    So which one should die now?

    That matter was entirely in Vikir''s hands.

    "...."

    "...."

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca. Even Ahul and the rest of Bk''s warriors stared at the tip of Vikir''s sword.

    Then.

    Vikir''s mouth, closed until now, opens.

    "Do you trust me?"

    Vikir looked at the Bk warriors.

    Needless to say, they all nodded, including Ahul.

    They had all been children when Vikir was at the height of his heroism.

    A generation that naturally heard all of Vikir''s deeds as legends and myths.

    Everyone, including Ahul, bowed before Vikir.

    "We will obey the words of hunting leader''s words."

    With that, Vikir nodded.

    Then he turned and looked at Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca.

    "And you guys?"

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca each spoke up.

    "Of course we trust you, you''re our friend."

    "I''ve always felt that way, you''ve always been like a big brother to me, even though we''re the same age."

    "I believe anything Vikir says!"

    "Hmm. This mission has been stalling since you arrived, and I can''t believe I don''t trust you. I won''t bet against you, so do whatever you want."

    Everyone agreed with Vikir.

    Nodding.

    Then Vikir bowed his head with a stern expression.

    And then.

    ...Dengeng!

    He swung his sword, beheading Ahul in front of him.

    " ...uh!?"

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Bk''s warriors gasped.

    Puff-puff-puck!

    A barrage of sharp shes traveled in an infinite orbit, decapitating them all in one fell swoop.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca''s heads rolled across the blood-soaked, reddened grass.

    A flowing fountain of blood. Faces frozen in shock.

    "...."

    Vikir stood still in the center of where the bodies of all his friendsy, looking up at the sky.

    <Mission> �C Die and Kill!

    �� Each ship owner has powerful powers! Living is inherently difficult~

    �� Recognized only when everyone has cleared the mission!

    The mission was still not cleared.

    Vikir had killed all those who trusted him and survived alone.

    Soon, his dry lips also became heavy.

    "...I also believe in you."

 Chapter 346: Key man (1)

    <h4>Chapter 346: Key man (1)</h4>

    In the darkness.

    In the middle of an endless void, Piggy stood alone.

    ''Get out.''

    A middle-aged man''s voice shouted.

    The moment he heard the voice, Piggy realized.

    ''Another dream.''

    The vision he had when he was nearly crushed to death by a pile of golems during the midterms.

    The nightmare he''d barely escaped with Vikir''s help.

    ''This trash is not my blood.''

    His voice was bitterly cold.

    Followed by his mother''s sad sobs.

    ''You lowly thing, you don''t even know what subject you''re talking about.''

    ''Get him out of here now.''

    ''... Get rid of him.''

    The whispers around him follow the whimpers, swirling around.

    After that it was the same again.

    A fleeing mother, forests and mountains, pursuers, steep cliffs, raging rivers, hungry wolves, and the surprised faces of passing merchants and mercenaries; a mother who gradually regained her smile; a stepfather who was always kind; a difficult but rewarding exam period; a school dormitory life that was difficult and hard, but made bearable by friends.

    The fantasy continues as time flows like a river.

    Next thing Piggy knew, his body was covered in some sort of sticky thread.

    "...hugh!?"

    His surroundings, which had been nothing but darkness and emptiness, were now filled with ufortable walls of flesh.

    The unpleasant sensation of being trapped in the esophagus of a giant monster.

    Piggy pushed forward, iling desperately.

    The muscle fibers in his limbs were snapping.

    Then, up ahead, he saw a door.

    Arge, circr gate, with searing mes zing around it.

    <Gates of Destruction, "Serpent''s Tongue">.

    The tip of the searing pir of fire split into two, like the tongue of a snake.

    Countless pirs of me, each ominously shaped, hovered incessantly around the gate.

    A moment. Piggy felt an intense desire.

    A great, fundamental desire to enter the gate, a desire he dared not resist.

    ''Why am I like this?''

    A normal person wouldn''t even dare to walk towards the gate.

    But Piggy was walking toward it, not even knowing why, even to himself.

    And then.

    "Hey, Piggy."

    A familiar voice called out from behind him. It was Tudor''s.

    "You can''t go in there. We''re human."

    Tudor''s words gave Piggy pause.

    Then he heard Sancho''s voice right behind him.

    "That gate is for demons. We can''t go through it."

    "Are you crazy? Get back here now!"

    Bianca called out to Piggy.

    Other familiar voices called out behind them.

    "Come back, Piggy."

    "It''s safer this way."

    "You can''t go there!"

    "Over here! Over here!"

    "Look this way! Turn your head!"

    His mother, his stepfather, his friends back home... all the people he missed called out to him.

    Piggy finally stopped walking and stood, his eyes zed over.

    And then.

    Slurp-

    The head slowly turns back.

    Piggy was about to turn his back on the gate.

    ...just then.

    ''Never look back.''

    The voice sounded like it was speaking to his heart.

    The beat restarted his heart and cleared his foggy mind.

    "Huh!"

    Even as Piggy snapped out of his reverie, he could still hear the shout from behind him.

    "Piggy! Look over here, please!"

    "Behind you! Look behind you!"

    "Dodge! Run now!"

    "Come on, Piggy! You have toe this way!"

    The voices of family and friends demanding that he turn around.

    But. Every time Piggy unconsciously tried to turn his head, a voice echoed in his chest, hot and harsh, almost the panting of a fierce animal.

    ''Never look back, keep moving forward.''

    The voice sounded like a stubborn old man moaning and speaking.

    Piggy took a step forward with his eyes tightly closed.

    "Piggy! Are you crazy! Come back!"

    "Why are you ignoring us!"

    "Get back here now!"

    "Look here, Piggy! It''s your mom!"

    "You ungrateful brat, if you don''t look over here right now...!"

    And Piggy''s face fell, too.

    How could he not turn around when the people he had missed so much and cherished so much were shouting at him in such desperate tones?

    "Ughhhh...."

    Piggy stopped in his tracks, drooling.

    He closed his eyes and tried to turn his head away.

    And then.

    ...boom!

    A hand grabbed Piggy''s face.

    "Huh!?"

    Piggy opened his eyes in surprise.

    But before he could look back, the hands on either side of his cheeks jerked his head back to the front.

    Piggy looked down at the hand holding his face.

    A rough hand, wrinkled, scarred, and covered in sticky blood.

    The hand''s owner was clearly at his side.

    ''Walk forward.''

    It was the same harsh, hoarse voice from earlier.

    Piggy shuddered, but took a step forward.

    When he nced sideways to follow the hand, he saw a taller man walking beside him.

    A middle-aged man.

    It was hard to make out his features from the edge of his vision, but Piggy could see that his hands and face were covered in burns and sh marks.

    He was limping, but he was carrying Piggy forward as if to support him.

    Hands around his neck, shoulders, and chin to make sure he never looked back.

    And then. Piggy came face to face with a huge gate.

    Searing fire and heavy steel. It was the kind of gate that intimidates the onlooker.

    But for some reason, Piggy wasn''t afraid of the door at all.

    The only thing that bothered him was the shouting behind him.

    However, Piggy had made it this far thanks to the mysterious man walking beside him.

    There was a strange sense of aplishment and pride. For some reason, it felt like he had to walk through the gate.

    Piggy had just opened his mouth to say thank you.

    The man next to him took his hand off Piggy''s body.

    ''Don''t look back, you''re on your own from now on.''

    At the same time, his figure and voice disappeared from Piggy''s sight.

    Piggy knew without looking.

    That he wasn''t supposed to be here in the first ce, and that he had just gone onest time, to a very far away ce, forever.

    "...He''s a good person."

    Piggy pushed the gate in front of him with all his might.

    And threw himself out into the darkness beyond.

    kkiiiiiiiig-

    With only the dull sound of the gate closing behind him.

    * * *

    "Huh!?"

    Piggy jerked his sweaty body to his feet.

    The first thing he saw when he lifted his head was his own reflection in a puddle of water.

    "Oh, you''re back?"

    Piggy touched his face and realized he still had the skin of a teenager.

    All the years he''d lost in the river had been reset.

    Finally, Piggy lifted his head and looked up.

    "Huh!?"

    There was something even more astonishing than before.

    nt roots sprouted from the ceiling, ck as the night sky.

    The roots of the deep roots that extended from the main body of the Hell Tree were passing through it.

    And at the base of the many tiny roots that sprouted from the main root hung a slender fruit.

    There was a human figure sleeping inside the outer shell of the fruit, and only the face was sticking out of the shell, so everyone could tell who was who.

    Tudor, Sancho, Bianca, and all of Bk''s warriors hung there, wrapped in cocoons.

    Each with their eyes closed and in a deep sleep.

    Piggy sensed that the massive root was the main body that sustained the Hell Tree''s power.

    Looking down at the main root, he could see that the veins within it drew steadily from the waters and fires of the underworld.

    From there, the seeds of various aquatic nts, such as the blood daylilies, and jellyfish, such as the ck Sea Shadowless King, were brought forth.

    "...Yes, using the emotions we unleashed as fuel to connect the human world to Hell."

    Piggy opened his mouth, his voice trembling.

    Right now, Piggy''s power alone is not enough to deal with the giant root in front of him.

    ... But there was something he could do with his powers right now.

    Sereung-

    Piggy drew the sword hanging from his waist.

    The levels and stats he had umted while training in the great river were still the same.

    His age had returned to normal, but the experience he''d gained in those years was still in his hands.

    "Eis!"

    Piggy swung his sword with all his might.

    The strike sent his friends tumbling to the ground, one by one, as they clung to the roots of the tree.

    Piggy went to Tudor, the first to fall, and peeled off the fruit.

    Then he began to p the sleeping Tudor across the cheeks.

    "Tudor, wake up! Sancho! Bianca!"

    Piggy pped with such fervor and sincerity that one by one, Tudor, Sancho, and Bianca began to wake up.

    "Huh? What is it, I thought I heard my father call me and turned around?"

    "Hmm? Sis, where did you go... huck? Where am I?"

    "Ew, my head hurts. What is it, my face is back to its normal age?"

    The first to open their eyes was the first to die.

    Piggy pulled down the rest of the fruits.

    One by one, the natives of Bk who had been trapped inside also began to open their eyes.

    All of them were alive, both those who had died and those who had been killed.

    "Huh? Look at that! Isn''t that Bk''s hunting ground?"

    "What? How can a little kid like that...."

    "Heck, no, that''s the face, and they''re all babies!"

    Tudor, Sancho, and Bianca were horrified to see the pale-faced girl in front of them.

    She was Ahul.

    They were all stunned to realize that the woman warrior, with her overwhelming power, level, and the presence of mind of a seasoned old woman, was actually such a young girl.

    Indeed, the majority of Bk''s warriors who have awakened from the Fruit since then have been young children, leaving Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca feeling somewhat helpless.

    However, they still had the experience, levels, and stats they had gained in the great river, so they couldn''t be underestimated just because they were children.

    They are Bk warriors who have already lived for several decades.

    It''s a fact that Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca, who have spent seven years on the flowing river, know well.

    Meanwhile. Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca muttered a few words to each other as they saw the roots of the Hell Tree.

    "...Yes. The hatred, murder, insecurity, anxiety, nervousness, inferiorityplex, and lust for life that we spew is the nutrient that sustains this Hell Tree."

    "I suppose this is the source of power for demons. It is the nutrient conduit between Hell and the human world."

    "Is this what you''ve been drawing the mes and waters of Hell from, to power the tower?"

    "All of the unfortunate creatures I''ve encountered have crawled up these roots."

    Just then.

    "Hey, over there!"

    Ahul shouted in poor imperialnguage.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca turned their heads in the direction Ahul was pointing.

    "Huh!"

    There, hanging from the tree, was arge fruit.

    A fruit that looked muchrger and heavier than the others.

    Trapped inside was Vikir.

    "We''ll get him out!"

    Piggy cautiously raised his sword and swung.

    Immediately, the gaseous aura characteristic of an Expert emanated from the tip of Piggy''s sword and shot out in the shape of a crescent moon.

    ...sh!

    The fruit Vikir was trapped in fell to the ground.

    Everyone rushed to Vikir.

    "Vikir, wake up!"

    "Open your eyes, Vikir!"

    "He''s breathing!"

    "He''s just in a deep sleep."

    No matter how many times they pped him and shook him, he wouldn''t wake up.

    Obviously, Vikir was the only one who survived the final beheading.

    But none of the men in the room doubted Vikir''s sincerity.

    "Vikir knew, that the first to die wakes up the fastest from the illusion."

    "I see. I guess this was one of those missions where the early deaths were an advantage."

    "If they made it this far, they must have been strong and skilled enough to not die easily."

    "They must have gotten used to being thest man standing, and they probably wouldn''t have died easily, so they''d be stuck in their hallucinations longer...."

    Eventually it all became clear.

    <Mission> �C Die and Kill!

    �� Don''t let your guard down! Laters be increasingly stronger as time goes by! If you don''t want to be caught up, even if you''re a ship owner, you have to work hard, right?

    ��Recognized only when everyone has cleared the mission!

    Mission "Die", "Kill". It wasn''t just about killing others.

    It ended when you had to ''die'' yourself.

    Moreover, this mission was ast man standing.

    It meant that if you inevitably be vicious and live with the habits of betraying and hurting someone, you will have to bear the full consequences.

    The first to die would be the first to exit the illusion, and the first to be abandoned, the first to be betrayed, would not leave theirpetitors still sleeping.

    Add to that the restriction that everyone has toplete the mission, and the difficulty level is truly unimaginable.

    It''s a diabolical idea, indeed, to switch sides in the blink of an eye and create new ones.

    Then.

    "...!"

    Vikir opened his eyes.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, Ahul, and the rest of the Bk warriors rushed to check on him.

    "Vikir! Are you okay!?"

    "Are you hurt anywhere?"

    "How many fingers do you see here, Vikir?"

    "No, what on earth were you doing all alone in the flowing river?"

    Vikir''s eyes narrowed for a moment.

    Then he looked down at his hands.

    " ...The wrinkles and age spots are gone, and when I wake up, I''ll be back to my normal age."

    Everyone who heard him was stunned.

    If his hands had wrinkles and age spots..., how long had Vikir managed to survive in the flowing river?

    Vikir didn''t have much of an answer to that question.

    Only.

    <Vikir>

    -LV: 1 (%)

    -Titles: "Gutter Rat Hunter," "Hell Dog," "Daylily Lumberjack," "Majin Executioner," "King of ck Sea Executioner," "Demonic Dragon Great Rival," "Renowned Boatman"

    -Stats

    Strength: 798

    ?Agility: 798

    ?Stamina: 798

    ?Physical Resistance: 798

    ?Magic Resistance: 798

    ?Reflexes: 798

    Level 1. Total of 6 major stats: 4,788.

    The fact that he''d blossomed all three of his special stats and had 798 each only confirmed the ridiculousness of his record.

    After a moment of silence, Vikir turned his head to look at Piggy next to him.

    He gave a shortugh.

    " ...You did a great job."

    Was it because he was deep in thought? Vikir''s voice was very hoarse and rough.

    It returned to normal quickly, but for a moment it really sounded like an old man''s voice.

    Then.

    Piggy''s expression changed.

    "This, this voice!"

    At everyone''s puzzled looks, Piggy spoke again.

    "It''s the voice that saved me from the hallucination! It''s the voice!"

    Piggy was certain that the voice that had led him to the gate, that had helped him not to look back, belonged to Vikir.

    He knew it, too, because the scars on Vikir''s hands were exactly the same as his, the position of the moles, the shape of the nails.

    ''Never look back. You''re on your own from now on.''

    Piggy remembered the voice and squeezed Vikir''s hand.

    "Vikir. If I had looked back then, I wouldn''t have woken up, and I wouldn''t have been able to wake up my friends."

    Vikir paused for a moment at Piggy''s genuine gratitude.

    ''What? I don''t remember doing that.''

    Vikir thought for a moment, and then came up with a hypothesis.

    ''The oldrades I encountered when I reached the 10th Floor Lost Paradise.''

    Could it be that something simr had happened this time?

    Perhaps his pre-regression self, a residual thought in his memory, had materialized in some way and helped his friends, Vikir thought.

    Just then.

    <Mission End> �C Die and Kill!

    �� The deathmatch is finally over!

    �� How did you feel once you died?

    �� As soon as theteer clears the mission, the ship owner will be reverse summoned out of the tower.

    �� Ship owners eligible for reverse summons are limited to those who have cleared the mission.

    A loud notification sounded and the rewards began to pour in.

    Whirr-!

    Piles of golden candies fell in front of everyone.

    At the same time, the gate to the deeper levels of the Abyss appeared.

    ...And the sound that Vikir had been most wary of.

    <Reverse summons of ship owners will be carried out>

    <Do you agree to the reverse summons?>

    As Vikir had warned, Ahul refused to be recalled.

    "Well thought out."

    Vikir stroked Ahul''s head and nodded.

    Since he did not know exactly what oue the Insectking race he met in the ck Sea had met, he decided that it would be better to remain in the tower.

    "I will clear the tower. You will then leave the tower and return to the jungle. We must rebuild Bk."

    At Vikir''s words, Ahul and the rest of the children of Bk nodded with determination.

    In the tower, their incredible talents blossomed, and they would be great warriors and restore their n.

    Then.

    "Vikir."

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca spoke almost simultaneously.

    Turning to Vikir, his friends asked.

    "Do you know why only Piggy was able to wake up?"

    Their questions were legitimate.

    To be honest, Piggy''s physical strength was the lowest of the four, and so was his mental strength.

    When it came to strength, energy, persistence, and hardness of heart, Piggy was alsost.

    But somehow, it was Piggy who was the first of the four to wake up and save them all.

    "...."

    Vikir stroked his chin silently.

    His gaze remained fixed on Piggy''s forearm, a small wound with ck blood caked on it.

    "Listen, Piggy."

    It was the result of Vikir, who had lived in the flowing river for decades, constantly thinking and worrying.

    "Perhaps you are the key to bringing down the Amdusian Abyss."

 Chapter 347: Key man (2)

    <h4>Chapter 347: Key man (2)</h4>

    <Underground Level 11, ''River of Flow''>

    Countless corpses of demonic beasts are floating on the boiling river water.

    geuleuleuleug...

    Daylily of the Blood Tree. Among them, thergest one raised its huge head and revealed its teeth.

    However.

    peo-peong! ujijijijig!

    Eight giant thunderbolts struck down, tearing the daylily''s head off.

    hududug- hududug- hududug- pungdeong! pungdeong! pungdeong!

    Fluid and flesh fell like rain, pounding on the surface of the water.

    Sevenrge teeth and an eighth that was small inparison.

    A massive aura rises around it, like the body of a hound.

    Tsutsutsutsutsutsutsuts...

    A concentration of aura that boils and evaporates the surrounding river water just by existing.

    There was an existence that emitted a huge aura in the shape of a hound.

    An old man sat with his eyes closed on a pile of daylily corpses.

    Despite the wrinkles and age spots, his straight waist was like a well-forged long sword.

    Vikir.

    He opened his eyes, stroking his graying hair and long beard.

    "...It is time to go."

    The years passed like water.

    After what seemed like an eternity, Vikir looked at his stats and saw that they were all at 798.

    ...Pow!

    The scale of forced equality has done its job and shattered.

    "That''s enough."

    Vikir stepped down onto the corpse of thest daylily he had just killed.

    The reward for killing all of the daylilies that had formed a colony on the river was piled high in Vikir''s hand.

    Golden candies. A huge number of candies in Vikir''s hands.

    Vikir had converted the rewards into level candies.

    [hack-hack-]

    Vikir turned his head at the sound of breathing behind him.

    There was a baby madam, or rather a girl madam, who had grown so big that she had to raise her head to look up.

    [...Has time already gone this far? Time flies so fast].

    Decarabia squinted through Vikir''s white beard.

    Vikir had killed Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and all of Bk''s warriors, and yet he had remained here, in this flowing river.

    Then.

    [ Are you still out there? ]

    A voice came from the air.

    Vikir turned to see a familiar figure hovering in the air.

    It was a fairy.

    [ Is there really no such thing as a progression?]

    The fairy grumbled, as if tired of seeing Vikir.

    After all, as a store owner, how can you look kindly at a customer who is proudly refusing to leave the floor while continuing to hunt the daylilies that have been made so that they cannot be caught?

    The fairy said, as if dying of headache.

    [ Could you please leave now ? You ate enough to pluck, right? ]

    It was crying like a baby.

    Then.

    Vikir opened his mouth.

    "Okay. It''s time to get out."

    [ ! ]

    For a moment, the fairy''s eyes shed open.

    Vikir, who had always kept his eyes closed and remained silent when asked to leave the floor, had somehow responded to the conversation today.

    [ Were you thinking well, when are you going to leave ? ]

    Vikir waved a hand in the air at the fairy.

    "When I leave depends on your attitude. Come closer. Let''s talk."

    [ What ? What do you want to talk about ? ]

    The fairy looked frightened for a moment at being asked toe closer.

    However, as if it wanted Vikir to get out of this floor quickly, the creature was hesitantly approaching.

    Keeping its distance as far as it could.

    But.

    What the fairy considered a safe distance was meaningless to Vikir.

    ...hwaag!

    Reaching out in an instant, Vikir grabbed the fairy by the nape of the neck before it had time to react.

    "What are you so wary of, just because I want to talk to you?"

    [ What what what are you doing ? ]

    But the fairy didn''t finish the sentence.

    Vikir pressed down on both of its cheeks, forcing it to open its mouth, and shoved something into it.

    It was a ck liquid in a leather sack.

    Gulp- Gulp- Gulp- Gulp-

    The fairy had to drink the liquid that Vikir poured into its mouth without knowing why.

    And soon enough, the response came.

    [ K h u a a a a a a a g h ? ]

    Along with a terrible scream, ck smoke began to billow from the fairy''s mouth.

    The sensation as if the five internal organs were melting was tormenting the fairy.

    "...hmm."

    Vikir stomped on the struggling creature and looked down at it.

    Fairies were essentially indestructible, the product of magic engineering created from the essence of the Hell Tree, and therefore indestructible except by their creator, the Demon.

    But the fairy in front of him now was dying, slowly but surely.

    It was slowly dying in terrible pain.

    [ Uh huh huh why? ]

    The fairy itself doesn''t seem to know what has caused it to suffer.

    "Well. Maybe it''s revenge for all the humans who have suffered in this tower."

    Vikir replied in a dry voice, but the fairy didn''t seem to hear him.

    puswiiiiiig-

    In the end, the fairy burned with a terrifying momentum, and then vanished.

    "...Well, that worked."

    Vikir flicked the ck liquid in the leather hilt in his hand.

    It was Piggy''s blood.

    Blood that had been there for a very long time, unevaporated and unrotten, still pooling in the sack.

    It was certainly no ordinary human blood.

    Vikir had collected it after killing Piggy and stored it in a leather sack.

    ''There is definitely a strange blood in Piggy''s body. It''s deadly to demons.

    When Vikir first noticed the small wound on Piggy''s forearm, he felt a sense of strangeness that only a seasoned demon hunter could.

    ''Piggy. Is your blood naturally ck?''

    ''Huh? Aaah, it''s always been this way, huh? I''m not demonized or anything, I''ve been like this since I was a kid! The doctors said it''s because I have a lot of iron in my blood... but it seems like it''s gotten a little darker since I''ve been in the Hell Tree?''

    Vikir nodded, looking at the fairy that had turned into a handful of blood and spread before his eyes.

    "If my judgment is correct...."

    * * *

    "...You may be the key to bringing down Amdusias''s Abyss.."

    Vikir spoke up.

    Now that they had cleared the 11th level of the Flowing River, the younger Vikir stood before Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, Ahul, and the rest of Bk''s warriors, all of whom looked nervous.

    "Huh? Me?"

    Piggy looked surprised, as if he felt overwhelmed by all the attention on him.

    But Vikir was serious.

    "I''ve been studying you for a while now, during my years in the Flowing River. It seems that your blood has strange properties."

    Piggy''s blood reacted not only to demons, but also to fairies, monsters, and others.

    Although it didn''t cause a violent reaction by itself, it could be used to great effect when applied to a sword or mixed into an aura and wielded.

    "I''m going to use this to clear the tower once and for all."

    It was a question that Vikir had pondered over and over again during the decades he''d lived on the river.

    In the timeline he lived in before his regression, the tower would be captured a littleter.

    But even then, most of the heroes had fallen by now, and only one had cleared the tower.

    Morg Camus, a genius among geniuses.

    ''At that time, I didn''t even know that the appearance of this tower was the work of the demon.''

    This is a glimpse into the genius of Camus, who cleared the tower despite the uncertainty of the situation.

    But now, Camus is not in the tower.

    Someone else has to clear the tower.

    ''... Plus, Piggy wasn''t at the Academy at that time.''

    Maybe it wasn''t just bullying that caused Piggy to drop out of school before the regression.

    Maybe his blood was telling him something was wrong and he was scared that he wasn''t like everyone else.

    Vikir stared at Piggy once more.

    "...."

    "...?"

    A being that bends thews of causality within the tower. Perhaps the greatest variable in the future.

    Vikir put a hand on Piggy''s shoulder.

    "The reason you woke up first is because there was something you had to do first."

    "...what I had to do."

    Piggy dropped his gaze and looked at his hands.

    Then.

    "Vikir."

    Tudor called to Vikir.

    Vikir turned his head, and Tudor thrust a tightly curled fist in front of him.

    "Take this."

    The thing in Tudor''s palm opened wide.

    It was a candy, sprinkled with glittering gold.

    "Why are you giving me this?"

    "I don''t know why."

    It was not Tudor who answered Vikir''s question, but Bianca, who stood beside him.

    Sancho, Piggy, Ahul, and the rest of the Bk warriors also handed Vikir golden candies.

    "This is the reward forpleting the mission. But I think it would be better for you to eat it than for me to eat it."

    "Please, please, Vikir, I can do nothing but share my blood!"

    "Hunting ground. please...."

    Everyone stares at him.

    Vikir is silent for a moment, then nods.

    "I will not waste them."

    The golden candies fell into Vikir''s hands.

    jjalgeg-

    Combined with the rewards forpleting the mission and all the candies they had collected while killing demons, there were quite a few.

    Tudor''s eyes widened in anticipation.

    "So, are you going to eat them all in one sitting and then go meet the core of the tower?"

    "No. There''s something I need to do first."

    Vikir shook his head once, then pulled an item from his pocket.

    "...!"

    The one that made everyone''s eyes widen.

    -<Return Scroll> / Scrolls / Rank: ?

    A scroll that allows you to return to the Tutorial Zone for one time only.

    The answer to the question ''Lord, where are you going?'' is written.

    ��Level will be reset when used

    It was a return scroll that sent you back to the very beginning of the stage.

 Chapter 348: Key man (3)

    <h4>Chapter 348: Key man (3)</h4>

    -<Return Scroll> / Scrolls / Rank: ?

    A scroll that allows you to return to the Tutorial Zone for one time only.

    It contains the answer to the question, ''Lord, where are you going?''

    ��Using this scroll will reset your level

    A one-time use item received when you first leave the tower''s tutorial area.

    The overwhelming majority of challengers to the Tower use this scroll early on.

    This is a great item to have when you''re in a life-or-death situation, or when you''re faced with a mission that you just can''t seem toplete.

    It''s ast resort, so to speak, to preserve one life.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca all looked surprised.

    "You haven''t used this scroll before?"

    "Great, I remember using it on the third floor."

    "I used it on the first floor...."

    "Ugh! I used it right before I died on the third floor, and I was so pissed that all my hard-earned levels were reset!"

    In addition, Bk''s warriors had also used up all of their scrolls before reaching the Flowing River.

    Vikir decided it was time for him to use it, too.

    "...."

    Before tearing up the scroll, Vikir noted the words at the bottom of the item''s description.

    Debuff that resets your level to 1 upon use.

    Not that it matters when your life is on the line, but it''s still a pretty significant loss.

    ''I knew it, and I''ve been saving up golden candies all this time without leveling up.''

    Vikir held up the scroll.

    Suddenly, the conversation between Amdusias and Pope Nabokov I that he had overheard before entering the tower shed through his mind.

    ''You, too, will eventually suffer the same fate as me. You will deny God, humanity, and yourself three times.''

    ''Holholhol. Horse head. You are right, we Quovadis are descendants of those who ''denied God three times''. ... But there''s a story behind that.''

    The First Apostle denied the Prophet Lun three times before the dawn rooster crowed.

    One day, he received a call from the resurrected Lun.

    After answering all three questions, he was finally forgiven.

    Then he turned and shouted at the departing prophet.

    "Quo Vadis, Domine ? (Lord, where are you going?)

    The Prophet replied

    ''...We go back to the beginning to be persecuted again.''

    Vikir mulled over the words on the scroll.

    To return to the beginning again.

    And so on.

    As Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, Ahul, and the rest of Bk''s warriors looked on in concern, Vikir tore the scroll.

    Buuk-.

    The moment the tough scroll was torn in two, a brilliant ball of light rose up and enveloped Vikir''s entire body.

    Then.

    "Vikir!"

    Piggy called out.

    "Can, We can all see each other again, right?"

    Tudor, Sancho, and Bianca, who were beside him, turned their heads as if he were talking nonsense.

    "Of course we will, man!"

    "Vikir will never be defeated."

    "He''ll clear the tower for sure!"

    But Piggy was still uneasy nheless.

    Piggy''s pupils, which were trembling slightly, seemed to reflect something different from what was reflected in the pupils of the other friends.

    And towards that piggy.

    " ... Wait for me."

    With a dry smile, Vikir left only one short word.

    * * *

    Kiiiiing-

    A pain like an awl piercing his eardrums shot through his head.

    With an unpleasant vibrating sound, Vikir opened his eyes.

    <Underground Level 1. Tutorial area>

    Dirty bats were flying around in front of him, and the ceiling was slowly descending.

    It was the same scene as when Vikir first entered the tower, except the rats had changed to bats.

    Then.

    [ hello ? ]

    Flesh and internal organs dripping from the distorted features, a lump of meat pping its ugly, dried wings.

    [ I am a ''fairy'' in charge of the tower''s guide? ]

    The fairy appeared. Just like when he first entered the tower.

    The creature purses its swollen lips and utters a formal statement.

    [ From now on, it''s firste, first-served... ... uh ? ]

    However, the fairy never finished the line that was supposed to be uttered.

    ...Grasp! Bam!

    Vikir, who had closed the distance in an instant, grabbed the fairy with a vicious hand and mmed it to the ground.

    The grip strength that erupted from a strength stat of 798 was not at a level that even a fairy could ignore.

    Moreover.

    ppug!

    Vikir plunged the Baalzebub awl, coated in Piggy''s blood, deep into the fairy''s belly button.

    [ eub eub eub eub eub ? ]

    The fairy struggled a few times and then died.

    With a look of disbelief in its eyes.

    "What''s it like to be the victim, is this new to you?"

    There was no way the dead fairy could answer, but Vikir asked anyway.

    Vikir''s mind shed back to the faces of the students who had died in the tower, and the faces of the fairies who had watched with giggles.

    With that, Vikir kicked the fairy''s body aside as if it were garbage.

    Then he drew the sack that hung from his waist.

    Walgraak-!

    The sack was filled with golden candies.

    Vikir scooped them all into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed.

    Crunch-ck-ck!

    The hard pieces of candy quickly melted in his mouth.

    At the same time, a loud notification sounded in his ears.

    [Level 1 Warrior Vikir has leveled up!]

    [Level 2 Warrior Vikir has leveled up ...]

    [Level 3 Warrior Vikir...]

    [Level 4...]

    Levels rising at an incredible rate.

    Soon, Vikir''s status window began to show changes apanied by arge vibration.

    <Vikir>.

    -LV: 100 (%)

    -Title: ''Gutter Rat Hunter'', ''Hell''s Dog'', ''Daylily Lumberjack'', ''Majin Executioner'', ''ck Sea King''s Executioner'', ''Demonic Dragon Great Rival'', ''The Leading Boatman''

    -Stats

    Strength: 1,000 (+98,941) = 99,941

    ?Agility: 1,000 (+98,941) = 99,941

    ?Stamina: 1,000 (+98,941) = 99,941

    ?Physical Resistance: 1,000 (+98,941) = 99,941

    ?Magic resistance: 1,000 (+98,941) = 99,941

    ?Reflexes: 1,000 (+98,941) = 99,941

    Now we don''t need to tie up levels.

    Vikir quickly maxed out his level and was back to where he was before entering the tower.

    What''s more, the base stats he''d built up at level 1 had exploded with his level increase, including three special stats he wasn''t naturally born with.

    "...!"

    Strength. Agility. Stamina. I can feel my basic three stats are much stronger than they were before I entered the tower.

    But that''s hardly a perkpared to my newfound talents.

    Reflexes. Physical resistance. Magic resistance. These three talents are innate, unavable to anyone but those favored by the gods and the world.

    Vikir had seeded in blossoming them, developing them to the extreme.

    The invisible became visible and the inaudible became audible.

    This immense sense of exaltation was something he had not felt even when he first stepped on the threshold of the 8th Form.

    ''If now... maybe...''

    Vikir drew his sword.

    Whoosh!

    A crimson aura coursed through Beelzebub''s sword.

    With that, Vikir took a deep breath and cast the ultimate sword technique he had spent so many years honing in the flowing rivers.

    The 8th Form of Baskerville.

    It was something that he hadn''t aplished much with since his first clue in the Tower of Stabbing, and could only master with the blessing of Saint Dolores.

    Vikir''s swordsmanship, which was technically only 7.5 Forms, finally shone.

    ...sh!

    Turning The Sky Upside Down (����).

    Seven giant teeth. The 8th tooth, which had grown to almost the same size as the others, ferociously tore through the air.

    kwakwakwakwakwakwakwang!

    The strikes, swung in eight directions, bit into the ceiling that was slowly descending.

    ...Kugung!

    The ceiling descended and stopped slightly.

    Its movement had slowed, but it was still descending.

    ''It''s about as strong as the fist of the Demonic Dragon I met before.''

    Vikir watched the tutorial ceiling descend.

    Next, Piggy''s blood coated the hilt of Beelzebub''s sword from the leather scabbard at his waist.

    Crackle!

    The newly fiery aura prepared to reveal its eight teeth once more.

    Hounds. The Hound of Iron Blood Swordsman. It leaps forward with its fur all over its body standing up sharply and with a fierce look in its eyes.

    kwa-kwakwakwakwakwakwang!

    Eight sword strikes hit the ceiling again.

    But this time, it was different.

    "...!"

    Vikir felt a strange sensation on his fingertips.

    It was a supersensory sensation he would never have felt if it weren''t for his nearly 100,000 reflexes stat.

    It was beyond the ceiling.

    Something evil and sinister was lurking and sitting on top of the first level of the basement.

    ''Common sense tells us that if we want to go up to the ground, we should go further up from the basement level.''

    Vikir poured more and more power into Beelzebub.

    And then... it started to respond.

    Ku-deuddeudeuk!

    The ceiling stopped its descent, and then it shook violently.

    ...creak, creak, creak!

    And then it began to crack with tremendous force.

    At the same time, an enormous mana storm began to rage.

    A wind that not only crushed the body with its powerful wind pressure, but also contained a strange heat that caused the mana in his body to boil over and run wild.

    But Vikir remained standing, unmoving, and withstood the mana storm.

    Neither the wind pressure that blew him away nor the magic waves that shook the mana in his body could help him.

    This was because Vikir''s physical and magic resistance stats were ridiculously high.

    And Vikir was staring sharply through the gusts of wind from this fierce mana storm that was blowing through the cracks in the ceiling.

    ''...There is an answer.''

    A high Reflexes stat will give you a clear view of what lies beyond, even through the fluctuating wind in real time.

    <Amdusias, the ''5th Corpse''>

    Danger Rating : S+

    Size: ?

    Found in: The Serpent''s Womb, deep within the Gates of Destruction.

    -Also known as the 5th corpse.

    A natural enemy of mankind, one of the ten gues known as iprehensible and unkible.

    "I will take away the lives of the first born that year."

    �C The Book of the Ten Commandments 10: Above �C

    Instead of the holy and sacred energy that is always mentioned in myths, it is a giant unicorn full of only hostility and evil.

    [...How could a human even reach this ce!?]

    The 5th Demon King that had corrupted Winston, the Principal of Colosseo Academy, was hiding right there.

 Chapter 349: Outside the Tower (1)

    <h4>Chapter 349: Outside the Tower (1)</h4>

    [...How could a human even reach this ce!?]

    Amdusias''s mouth dropped open in astonishment.

    Without another word, Vikir flicked his sword once.

    Then, fragments of crimson aura fall to the floor.

    Amdusias''s expression changed in an instant.

    [That blood is...? Why is that here...?]

    The energy of twisting the causality of the Hell Tree was clearly felt in Vikir''s sword.

    But Vikir did not answer any of Amdusias''s questions.

    Only.

    "Demons kill."

    Twice, or even now, he has struck the river that flows through the abyss, and over the course of his three lives, he has only shown a conviction that has be more and more solid.

    ...pakang!

    The tip of Amdusias'' horn collided with the edge of Vikir''s sword, rupturing the atmosphere.

    The void shattered like a pane of ss, sparks falling through the myriad of tiny cracks.

    pajig! pajijig!

    Amdusias sensed a different ominousness in Vikir''s sword.

    Unlike when they had shed before, Vikir''s sword had be much faster and more precise, and now it held an eerie aura of some unknown nature.

    [Assuming it was the stats from the tower that made it faster and stronger, but... is this eerie feeling also due to its blood?]

    Amdusias shouted as he stepped back.

    [You! What have you coated your sword with, and where did you get it?]

    "Be gone."

    Vikir was still dancing.

    ...Pakang!

    Once again, eight strikes flew out to cut Amdusias down.

    Amdusias lifted up the unicorn''s unique, gigantic horn and struck them all away.

    Jiiing-!

    However, it was not possible to block all the shes.

    As the crescent-shaped strikes shattered and their fragments scattered, they inevitably left tiny cuts all over Amdusias''s body.

    And the shards of aura dug into the wounds.

    [Huh?]

    Amdusias felt his vision blur for a moment.

    For a moment, a strange vision shed before Amdusias eyes.

    A swamp of blood and flesh, a mountain of bones, an atmosphere drained of mana, a giant mushroom cloud rising over the distant horizon.

    ...And an endless, barren desert.

    ...A huge tower rising in the middle of the desert.

    ...An old man in ck walking lonely and alone toward the tower.

    Each vision pierces Amdusias''s mind, fragmented and broken.

    [What, what is this?]

    Even the mighty Amdusias was bewildered.

    Strange things kept popping into his mind as the unknown substance that bent thews of cause and effect seeped through his wounds.

    Seeing it, Vikir was convinced.

    ''...There is something in Piggy''s blood.''

    I don''t know what Amdusias is hallucinating, but I do know this.

    Piggy''s blood is poison to demons, and it''s enough to distract a Demon King once.

    It''s unclear how the causal chain is twisted and the demons are struck, but it''s enough that it happens.

    Vikir gathered his strength once more and prepared to strike.

    However.

    [Oooh! You think I can suffer any more?]

    Amdusias began to counterattack as well.

    Tsutsutsutsutsutsutsuts...

    The nightmares in the Hell Tree turned into ck energy and began to be absorbed by Amdusias.

    He red at Vikir as he sucked the ck energy into his mouth.

    [You see, all the negative emotions exuded by the challengers of this tower be the nourishment for me, this is Hell Tree].

    All the negative energy emitted by those who have been forced into the tower.

    Emotions such as sadness, grief, anger, screams, feelings of betrayal, hatred, and inferiority will all be fed to Amdusias.

    [I''ll eat your emotions too].

    "Emotions. Do I have any of those left?"

    [As one who has stepped into the realm of the Supreme, I can see clearly into even the deepest unconsciousness. Bluffing doesn''t work].

    Amdusias''s eyes glowed, and he raised his horns, pointing them at Vikir''s chest.

    [Your fear, your anger, your sadness, all of your negative energy will be my strength].

    At the same time, Amdusias began to gallop.

    The gallop of a ghost horse. Itid a straight ck path on the ground.

    It galloped directly into Vikir''s mental world.

    * * *

    ...Thud!

    Amdusias stamped his hooves on the ground.

    Amdusias is as adept at entering the minds of others as he is at drawing them into his own.

    Amdusias looked around.

    His vision was obscured by parched ck soil, tiny dead trees, scorched earth, and smoky plumes of fire.

    [Hmm. For a human, you''ve got quite the interior].

    Amdusias walked forward through the smoke and fog for a while.

    Finally, he saw a vague shadow through the thick atmosphere.

    It was arge stone statue, weathered by the passage of time and no longer in perfect shape.

    It was chipped here and there, but its face was still recognizable.

    [Hugo and Osiris... The Iron-Blooded Swordsmen are the Patriarchs and Young Patriarchs of Baskerville. Hmm, for a statue of this size to have such arge presence in its mind, it must have some family feelings of its own].

    Amdusias was judging the presence or absence of emotion by the size of the statue, which was quiterge.

    The bigger the wound, the bigger the emotion, the bigger the representation.

    ...Thud!

    Amdusias stomped his massive feet, crushing all the giant trees and boulders in his path.

    [It seems to be quiterge for a mere mortal''s mental world. I can see some pretty big beings...]

    With all the smoke and fog, it''s hard to tell exactly how big this ce is or where you are.

    But in the end, it''s the mental world of a boy not even twenty years old.

    If it''s that big, how big can it be, and if it''s that deste, how deste can it be?

    [Laughs].

    Amdusias snorted and stepped forward.

    Suddenly, Amdusias saw a very steep uphill slope ahead of him.

    The terrain looked like a mountain, but the smoke and fog made it impossible to determine its exact height.

    [High, at least, in the insignificant human inner world].

    Still, if they got high enough, they might be able to see their surroundings.

    Amdusias began to walk up the slope of the mountain that appeared before him.

    ... thud! ... thud! ... thud! ... thud!

    Amdusias''s hooves pounded the ground.

    Parched, crumbling earth rushed down, causingndslides, but Amdusias used his massive frame to crush them all.

    Amdusias continued to climb the mountain that must be somewhere in Vikir''s inner world.

    [...This mountain is probably the highest mountain in the world.].

    Amdusias felt beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

    A mountain where the leaves of every tree had been burnt to a crisp, the soil had dried up, the insects had died, and the beasts had been reduced to bones.

    The mountain was unexpectedly high. So high that even the mighty Amdusias was momentarily exhausted after climbing it.

    [A mountain in the mental world is usually a deposit of emotions, such as responsibility, burden, or debt, but... how much emotion is this human piling up?]

    Amdusias muttered in iprehension.

    No matter how much power he has, he''s barely a teenage boy, isn''t he?

    Does he carry these feelings inside of him because of how much he''s lived, or how much he''s suffered?

    Amdusias continued to climb the mountain of emotions as he questioned himself.

    He could not see the peak because it was shrouded in smoke and fog, but he could intuitively feel that the summit was just around the corner.

    Amdusias continued to climb.

    ...He couldn''t tell how much time had passed.

    Soon, Amdusias was at the top of the mountain.

    The end of the mountain, pointed like an awl. There was nothing there, just nothing.

    Amdusias lifted his head and looked down the mountain, but there, too, he could see nothing, shrouded in smoke and fog.

    Just an empty summit.

    Amdusias measured the height he had climbed and opened his mouth in disbelief.

    [I don''t know how a single human could have umted this much negative emotion, even a centurion who''s crossed the line of fire hundreds of times wouldn''t have this much...]

    Amdusias had to admit, Vikir was right.

    To be able to build a mountain this high in your mind is usually a sign that you''re not human.

    [But even then, a human would be no match for the power of me, Amdusias].

    Amdusias snorted and looked down the mountain.

    He would find Vikir''s mouse-sized self hiding somewhere and destroy it.

    Then.

    Kugung-.

    The entire mountain trembled lightly.

    A storm from nowhere began to sweep the smoke and mist around the summit.

    And in that moment, Amdusias saw.

    [...!]

    Thend stretched endlessly beneath the mountain.

    The vast horizon stretched out so far that even Amdusias dared not guess its end.

    But it wasn''t just the vastness of thend that took Amdusias'' breath away.

    It was the bloodshed.

    Swamps of blood and flesh. Mountains of bones. Rivers,kes, and oceans of blood.

    Demon and human corpses tangled together to form hills and valleys, ravines and canyons, and everywhere boilingva and sulfur erupted in fountains.

    Vast numbers of demonic beasts swarmed and devoured the corpses, and everywhere there were wails and cries of anguish, and endless, endless streams of demons.

    Amdusias shuddered at the sight of this vast chain of chaos, this vortex of hatred.

    [How can this be in the minds of humans!]

    A terrifying battlefield, the likes of which even Amdias, a Demon King, had never experienced.

    The world of human and demons. The horror and cruelty of this ce have gone beyond the limit.

    A scene even more brutal and terrifying than hell unfolded here.

    [A human will never see such a scene in their lifetime! Even I, a Demon King, have never seen such a battlefield, and yet here it is, in the mind of this child, a child who has barely lived a moment!]

    It was unbelievable to see it so clearly, so vividly.

    Just then.

    ...Kugung!

    The mountain vibrated once more.

    [...?]

    Amdusias looked up in surprise.

    And then, something even more devastating came into view.

    Gooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo...

    A mountain.

    nked by mountains even bigger and taller than the one Amdusias had just climbed.

    Like, there were four more!

    The mountain Amdusias had climbed with his energy was only the smallest of them all.

    Awe. Shivering. Amdusias froze in ce, unable to speak.

    As mentioned before, the mountains of the mental world represent the burdens of the heart, such as debts, responsibilities, and missions.

    How can a human being, a young boy in his teens, have five of these mountains?

    And in such a terrible, terrifying world!

    Amdusias stammered.

    [No, no, no...]

    But he could barely finish his sentence.

    kung!

    The five mountains shook violently, then suddenly began to surge upward.

    [???]

    Amdusias soared upward without even knowing what was happening.

    And soon, he realized a terrifying truth.

    ku-gugugugu...

    This great mountain range, five peaks, wasing toward Amdusias now.

    It was carved with a swirling pattern at the end.

    Amdusias muttered in despair as he looked at the five gigantic mountain peaks, filled with smoke, fog, and fire, gathering in one ce.

    [...fingers?]

    That''s right.

    Arge body revealed beneath five huge mountain peaks. The source and core of the mental world.

    The age of destruction. A returner who holds a piece of the terrible universe in his heart.

    Vikir''s own self had risen.

 Chapter 350: Outside the Tower (2)

    <h4>Chapter 350: Outside the Tower (2)</h4>

    [This is impossible...]

    Amdusias stares up into the air in disbelief.

    Size in the mental world is the size of a thoughts. It''s how much weight you carry on your shoulders.

    However, the size of Vikir''s ego that was visible before his eyes was truly enormous.

    Something that could not be exined unless one had experienced the full weight of karma, infinite doom, and the destruction of an entire world.

    How could a single human being carry such arge and heavy burden?

    How can such a being be here!

    [What in the world are you, who are you, where did youe from, where did you grow up, to have such visions in your mind...]

    Amdusias asked in a trembling voice.

    But Vikir didn''t answer.

    He only repeated a single word to himself, like a mantra.

    "Demons kill."

    A hound from the Age of Destruction, a world where everything burned and rotted.

    Carrying the grudges, the anger, and the mission of the entire world, Vikir''s mind is so deep, so vast, so dark that even Amdusias cannot fathom it.

    ku-gugugugugu!

    Vikir raised his fist, each finger like a giant mountain range.

    He mmed it down on Amdusias.

    Quack!

    The entire mental world shook.

    An impact that could easily bring about the destruction of a world.

    [Kuhugh!?]

    Amdusias was mmed down by the giant fist.

    At the same time.

    ...wajangchang!

    The mental world maintained by Amdusias'' mental power began to shatter.

    Cracks rippled through the air. Amdusias''s magic field was fluctuating uneasily.

    [Oh, no! Hell...!]

    But Amdusias hadn''t even finished his sentence.

    The owner of this mental world is Vikir, and you cannot leave until the owner lets you go.

    kwakwang! kwang! kwakwakwakwang!

    The Age of Destruction is shattered by one punch after another.

    ...jjeojeojeog!

    Amdusias'' magic field ispletely shattered.

    ttudug! ujijijijijig!

    The entire Hell Tree began to shake.

    * * *

    "...?"

    It was a small start.

    A man who had pitched a tent in front of the Hell Tree, thinking of his children who had entered the Hell Tree, raised his head.

    The Hell Tree, which hadn''t budged no matter what the heroes had done to it, had just tilted slightly to the side.

    ''Did I see it wrong?''

    The man scratched his head.

    But he wasn''t mistaken.

    kugugugugu...

    Hell Tree was definitely leaning to the side.

    Slowly, faintly, enough that most of the people gathered didn''t even notice.

    "Huh!?"

    His eyes, which had been unraveling from sleepiness, snapped open.

    He hurriedly opened his mouth, waking his wife who was sleeping next to him.

    "Honey, wake up, I think it just moved..."

    But he didn''t finish his sentence.

    peoeoeoeong! kwakwang! ujijijijig!

    This is because the Hell Tree suddenly caused a loud explosion and twisted.

    The roots of the Hell Tree, which were spread out in the shape of teeth, dried up, and the main roots snapped like broken bones.

    Every time that happens, the concentrated sap inside pops out, and as soon as it hits the atmosphere, it immediately boils and vaporizes.

    Pssssshhhhh...

    Luckily, the aftermath of the explosion was mostly directed at the sky, so the parents and professors gathered around were not harmed.

    However.

    "Monsters! Monsters areing out!"

    "Dungeon! Is it a gate!"

    "Prepare for battle!"

    The problem was that the Hell Tree burst open and a myriad of monsters crawled out of it.

    Orcs, hellhounds, ogres, goblins, harpies, and more were leaping out of the Hell Tree with all their might.

    Parents and professors scrambled to their feet.

    The heroes, led by Cervantes the Spear King and Roderick the Archon.

    ...But.

    "What? What are they doing?"

    "They''re running away."

    "They don''t look like they have any intentions of fighting."

    The demons that had emerged from the Hell Tree were still running away with their butts in the air.

    Some of them were weeping and kissing the ground.

    It was as if they hadn''te out to fight, but had been imprisoned somewhere and had been lucky enough to be released.

    They weren''t the only ones.

    Various humanoid race, such as Insectking, Elves, Dwarves, and Beastmen, alsoe out of the Hell Tree and run away.

    Among them were the barbarians of the western jungle.

    The warrior tribe of Bk. Most of those who emerged from the Hell Tree were young, pale-faced boys and girls, but they were all seasoned warriors.

    They broke through the parents and professors, who were shocked, and flew over the barrier like the wind and disappeared.

    Slowly, the parents and professors realized what was happening.

    "Surely the things that were trapped in the Hell Tree havee out!"

    "My daughter! Where is my daughter!"

    "Oooh, my son, This mom is here!"

    Everyone who had been waiting anxiously was soon able to recognize the faces they had missed so much.

    "Aaahhhh! Where else is this ce?"

    "Hmm? The Academy? Have wee to another floor?"

    "Huh? I thought I had been eaten by a Daylily?"

    "Hmph! Where am I? I must have fallen asleep in themon room of Paradise..."

    The challengers were trapped inside the tower. The students of Colosseo Academy have all returned to their families.

    The dead, the living, those who gave up, and those who tried, all came back alive equally.

    "Oh, my son!"

    "Oh, my daughter!"

    "Oh, my graduate student!"

    Everywhere, there were tearful reunions between parents and children, teachers and students.

    "A mom, I''ve missed you for the past 10 years!"

    "Dad, don''t be so dramatic, I was only locked up for three days!"

    "What are you talking about, you kids, it''s been months since you were trapped in the Hell Tree!"

    "More than that, father. Did you get the letter I sent you, apparently from a ce called Lost Paradise..."

    "Yes, I received it. Thanks to that, I was able to feel at ease."

    Talks about recent events continue here and there.

    Passssssss...

    In the meantime, the Hel Tree bracelets on the students'' wrists have burned ck and disappeared.

    Meanwhile. Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca have also emerged from the Hell Tree.

    "Unbelievable! Wow, we really came out! really!"

    "He''s cleared the tower! Wow! Hooray!"

    Tudor and Bianca hugged each other as soon as they were outside.

    "Ugh! I thought I was going to be stuck in there for the rest of my life!"

    "Huh! Don''t cry, you''ll make me cry too!"

    But just as they were overwhelmed with joy at being out, they became conscious of the many eyes on them.

    "...huh!?"

    Tudor and Bianca, who had fallen into an awkward silence.

    "Son!"

    "Daughter!"

    Cervantes and Roderick came over and pulled them apart.

    Sancho and Piggy also burst into tears in the arms of their families.

    "Phew."

    Outside, Dolores is also breaking out in a cold sweat.

    She could see Mozgus running in the distance, tears streaming down his face, and the face of Pope Nabokov I behind him, but her gaze went elsewhere first.

    "...Are you sessful?"

    Dolores muttered in a small voice, looking down into the abyss below the sinking pit.

    Then.

    Triplets fell from the side, Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro.

    "Huh! What is it? Did wee out?"

    "Did wee out?"

    "Is it?"

    They quickly realized what was going on.

    Someone had cleared the tower, and they seemed to know who it was.

    Then.

    A grim-faced young man stepped in front of the Baskerville triplets.

    Osiris Le Baskerville.

    After staying here for quite some time, he asked the half-brothers in front of him.

    "I''m d to see you seem unharmed."

    "Thank you."

    Highbro bows his head in representation.

    Osiris nodded, then looked around and asked.

    "...Where is he?"

    He refers to Vikir.

    And there were more than one person looking for Vikir.

    Dolores, Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, Highbro, Midbro, Lowbro, and countless others whose lives had been saved by Vikir all looked up.

    "And what about him?"

    "Vikir! He''s the reason we''re alive!"

    "Yes. He was a true hero."

    "I said I would definitely show my gratitude if I could get out of the tower..."

    "Uh, there is no way, except for him!"

    "Are you sure he didn''t get out?"

    All the students had managed to escape, only Vikir was not there.

    "...."

    That was when Professor Morg Banshee, who came running in a huff after hearing the news that all the students had safely returned, had his expression darken.

    ...kwakwang!

    A pir of light of enormous size rose up from the very center of the Abyss where the Hell Tree sank..

    It was thick and long, like an ascending dragon, and radiated tremendous power.

    An aura. A pir of aura.

    It was a divine status that could not even be imitated by anyone other than a being in the Supreme Realm.

    "What, what is that?"

    "Master, it''s the aura of the master!"

    Even The Spear King Don Quixote''s Cervantes and The Archon Usher''s Roderick were so shocked that their eyes popped out.

    Swordmaster. A solid aura that could only be manifested by a supreme being.

    All eyes were focused on this absolute and bizarre phenomenon that had suddenly appeared.

    And.

    Someone tore the curtain of the abyss and soared above it.

    A being whose sword radiates the Sword Master''s aura like a ck sun.

    Vikir was there.

 Chapter 351: Outside the Tower (3)

    <h4>Chapter 351: Outside the Tower (3)</h4>

    ...Thud!

    Vikirnded on the ground.

    The tip of his sword was still emitting a stream of aura, and at the tip of it was a giant sun.

    A concentration of aura, a ck sun.

    It shone in full view of every student, every parent, and every professor at Colosseo Academy, illuminating the depths of the abyss where the Hell Tree had sunk.

    ....

    A collective silence. Everyone was at a loss for words in the face of something so unreal and unbelievable.

    The person who finally opened his mouth was Professor Morg Banshee, the interim principal of Colosseo Academy.

    "Vi, Vikir-kun, is that you? Uh, how did you get such power...?"

    Professor Banshee''s fingers trembled as he pointed to the solid aura of a Swordmaster.

    But Professor Banshee never got to finish his question or hear the answer.

    kwakwakwakwakwakwang!

    The fragments of the Hell Tree that had shot up into the sky came crashing down to ground.

    And then the huge thing carrying the debris cast a dark shadow over everyone''s heads.

    Amdusias!

    A unicorn with two eyes burning red was waving its fiery mane.

    Winston''s body had long since burst into mes.

    Turning to Amdusias, who was now in the body of his former self, Vikir asked in a dry voice.

    "It would be too much of a burden to incarnate without a host, wouldn''t it? Do you intend to destroy yourself?"

    [I don''t care, as long as I can get rid of you!]

    Amdusias red at Vikir and said.

    [You are someone who should never be allowed to live, especially now that we are about to embark on the Great Quest].

    "You mean the gate?"

    [...If you know that much, I can''t let you live any longer!]

    Amdusias steadied his crumbling body and channeled his magic power into the tip of his horn.

    peo-eong!

    The aura shoots out in the shape of a huge horn.

    It threatened to sweep away not only Vikir, but all those behind him at once.

    "Oh no! Everyone back up!"

    "Everyone on the ground!"

    Spear King Cervantes and Archon Roderick were the first to react.

    Two absolute powerhouses in the realm of the Supreme, they had gathered their magic power and raised it to stop Amdusias.

    But.

    There was an earlier, faster, more powerful action.

    ...sh!

    Vikir cast a long aura from his magic sword, Beelzebub.

    Then, like a tidal wave, the massive strike rose to meet Amdusias'' attack.

    Boom!

    [...!?]

    Amdusias was stunned by Vikir''s power, which was now much stronger than before.

    But that was to be expected.

    Vikir had leveled up to 100 in the tower and gained additional stats.

    He had a talent he wasn''t born with, and he honed it to the extreme until he became an old man in a flowing river.

    Upon exiting the tower, he regained his original strength, and all the power he had built up inside the tower was added to it, doubling his strength at least twice.

    The trajectory of Vikir''s sword''s movements began to take on aplex number.

    One tooth. Two teeth. Three teeth, four teeth....

    Slowly, the number of teeth grew to seven.

    And finally, an eighth tooth.

    kwa-gigigigigig!

    It was much bigger than any of the seven teeth that had appeared so far.

    The Baskerville 8th Form. That too ispletely extreme.

    It took the breath away from everyone who saw it.

    The expressions on the faces of Spear King Cervantes, Archon Roderick, and Osiris, the young patriarch of the Baskervilles, were particrly stunned.

    "Oh, my God, the swordsmanship of an iron-blooded swordsman! That''s also 8th Forms"

    "It''s not just 8th Form, it''s the Ultimate of 8th Form, Master!"

    "...This is surprising."

    It was now officially known that Hugo Le Baskerville, Patriarch of the Baskerville family, had mastered the 7th Form, and that Osiris, a young patriarch, had just reached the beginning of the 7th Form.

    But now, here was a user of the 8th Form who waspletely wless.

    This is a boy who has never made a name for himself in the world and who has only just turned 19!

    ujijijijijig! kkwadeudeudeudeug!

    A total of eight strikes, led by the most powerful 8th tooth, slowly carved away at Amdusias''s horns, sending them into a spiraling trajectory.

    And then.

    ...POP!

    With a loud crash, the horn broke and snapped in two.

    Earth Shattering (�@��ӵ�).

    The clouds in the sky were blown away by the wind pressure, and the ground shook like crazy.

    Vikir was single-handedly blocking a Demon King runaway dive.

    That too, against the demon Amdusias, who is optimized for one-on-onebat among the Ten Corpses, and there is no one who can beat him in a 1:1 match!

    [Ku-aaaaaghh!]

    Amdusias roared in pain, humiliation, and anger at having his horns broken.

    kwakwakwakwakwang-

    Rocks and trees were shattered in all directions by the rampaging hooves.

    "Damn it! Protect the citizens first!"

    "Protect the students!"

    Cervantes the Spear King, Roderick the Archon, Professor Banshee, and other heroes and heroines were fending off the falling rocks and other debris.

    Meanwhile, Amdusias sprinted, his body crumbling.

    He ran so fast that his body caught fire.

    At the end of it, Vikir stood.

    [I do not lose to humans, not even in one-on-onebat!]

    Amdusias had always prided himself on hisbat prowess as a single entity.

    So he couldn''t admit defeat anymore.

    Is that why?

    Amdusias drained his life force. He was unleashing his full power.

    His body burned like a shooting star, fading away.

    But despite this, Amdusias continues to run in a straight line, with only one goal in mind, to kill Vikir.

    ...However.

    "I already know that you are strong in one-on-onebat."

    Vikir pulled back lightly.

    Even though he had mastered the 8th Form, it would be a burden to go one-on-one with an Amdusias who would fight for his life.

    Vikir chose a slightly more certain method.

    "There is no need to match the other person''s strengths."

    ''If Amdusias is and-based demon that specializes in 1v1s, there''s no need to fight him 1v1.''

    ...Vikir barely finished speaking.

    "Well said, husband!"

    A voice came from beside him.

    Vikir turned to see a familiar-looking girl running towards him, her face bright with excitement.

    Morg Camus. She looked quite tired, as if she had been staying here for just a few days.

    "We met quickly this time? I was prepared for another few years!"

    As soon as she entered the battlefield, Camus summoned a wall of fire and iron skewers to block Amdusias'' path.

    ...teoeong!

    Amdusias gritted his teeth as his charge was stopped.

    [Seere! How dare you betray me!?]

    "Look at me straight. Who is Seere, to say the least?"

    [Ha, but I can definitely feel Seere aura...?]

    "If you mix 99.99% water with 0.01% beer, do you call it beer?"

    Camus snorted as if she were full of energy.

    Indeed, the power she was exuding was clearly something that had once belonged to Seere, but now it was nothing to sneeze at.

    Seere had shrunk to a very, very small size, even smaller than a fairy, and was hanging from Camus''s shoulder.

    The feeling of seeing a Thumbmaiden, not a Thumbelina

    Decarabia, clinging to Vikir''s chest, chuckled.

    [Hahaha! What is the appearance of Seere, the world''s scum!]

    [You''reughing at a subject that''s no better than a cheap ne from the road shop...]

    [Still, I''m better than you, we''re equal partners, not master and ve, khahahahaha!]

    While Decarabia and Seere were snapping, Camuspletely blocked Amdusias'' charge with a grid of ming iron skewers.

    Just then.

    "Vikir-nim! Let me help you!"

    Another voice interjected.

    Dolores stood at Vikir''s side with a determined look on her face, her holy power radiating from her.

    The scars on Vikir''s body faded away, and his mana began to flow again.

    Meanwhile, sparks flew from Camus''s eyes.

    "Hey, who are you, and why have you been hanging out near my husband sincest time?"

    "What, what? Who are you and what are you talking about?"

    "I don''t have a name to give you, so get the hell out of my way and don''t y tricks on someone else''s fiance!"

    "How rude, when did you see me...!"

    "I saw you at the festival!"

    " ...at the festival?"

    Dolores''s pupils twitched slightly.

    Suddenly, that voice sounds familiar.

    Dolores''s expression turns to one of disbelief.

    "You mean the ck mage who invaded the festival, the Corpse Queen?"

    "....Ugh. Oops-"

    Camus realized her mistake and shut up for a moment.

    Dolores nced back at Vikir, too, as if demanding an exnation.

    However.

    "...I don''t think this is the time for that."

    A voice floats over Camus and Dolores'' heads,nding lightly at Vikir''s side.

    Osiris.

    He, waving his ck robe, faced Amdusias with his red sword hanging down.

    He, who had just recently reached the level of master, lightly struck the rising solid aura with the tip of his sword.

    Then he looked back at Vikir and spoke in a calm voice.

    "...Acting Patriarch. Your orders."

    Camus and Dolores, as well as everyone behind them, were astonished by Osiris'' actions of bowing his head in a light but extremely polite manner.

    What kind of shocking behavior would this be for a boy from amoner background, from a person who was no less than the young patriarch of the iron-blooded swordsman Baskerville?

    ...And an acting patriarch?

    And yet.

    Vikir received Osiris'' greeting in a very natural manner.

    teobeog-

    With that, Vikir took a step toward Amdusias.

    Camus''s skewer bars creaked as if they wouldn''tst much longer.

    Amdusias'' body is about to rush towards them and explode.

    Toward the red-hot body of the unicorn, Vikir spoke briefly.

    "Hounds assemble."

    At the same time, an object emerged from Vikir''s arms.

    A dark red whistle shaped like teeth.

    It makes a quiet yet heavy beating sound.

    The moment it rings once.

    Chills...

    Everyone in the hall shivered at the unknown chill.

    Flutter.

    The sound of a cloak fluttering can be heard from somewhere.

    Flutter- Flutter- Flutter- Flutter- Flutter- Flutter- Flutter-

    It wasn''t just one or two.

    One by one, shadows in ck bloody robes began to emerge from the Academy''s walls.

    Strange people with red auras dripping stickily like honey from the tip of their long swords.

    A hundred people in a group, all Graduators. And seven such groups.

    Pit bulls. Mastiffs. Dobermans. Shepherds. Rottweiler. Wolfhound....

    Seven Hundred in total.

    And six senators to lead them.

    The Seven Counts.

    The strongest of the iron-blooded swordsmen, who spend their lives in battle.

    All six are here, except for CaneCorso, who guards the Grave of Swords.

    A red whistle that symbolizes all military authority of the Iron Blood Swordsman.

    The proof of the patriarch, once given to Vikir by Hugo himself to bring the Wraith Tree to Pomeranian.

    All the Baskerville hounds, attracted by that sound, have gathered here.

 Chapter 352: Outside the Tower (4)

    <h4>Chapter 352: Outside the Tower (4)</h4>

    ''I don''t know what it is, but bring it to me, son.''

    ''....''

    ''I would like to go in person, but I cannot leave because of the current tension with the Morg Family. I''ll give you the entire Knights Order if you need it.''

    While Hugo was busy analyzing the newly installed Morg''s delegates, he left Vikir with a mission.

    To retrieve a Wraith Tree in the middle of the salt desert.

    In the process, Vikir had taken over full military control of Baskerville from Hugo.

    Even though it was only a power that was effective for half a day, allowing the army to stand by within a certain distance at the right time to blow the whistle, it was actually an enormous power as it could summon all seven knights, including the Seven Counts of the Iron Blood Swordman Family

    In other words, Vikir became the de facto militarymander of the Baskervilles for half a day from the time he blew the whistle.

    "...Order."

    Young patriarch Osiris bowed respectfully, and the Six Counts behind him did the same.

    Vikir gave a shortmand.

    "Bite him to death."

    The hunter unleashed the hounds.

    No sooner had Vikir''smand been uttered than the shadows behind him shot forward.

    The prey had just escaped the cage... Amdusias!

    ...Papapat!

    The first to attack Amdusias were the triplets at the front, Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro.

    The Three Swords. Swords that multiply in power when wielded in unison.

    Together, Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro breathed aura into their swords with all their might and then shed.

    Taaang!

    However, the triplets''bined auras were unable to pierce Amdusias''s iron-like hide.

    [Aah! It just tickles...!]

    Amdusias was just about to snort.

    "Puppies stay back."

    "Let''s see if this one tickles, too."

    Two huge shadows loomed over the triplets'' backs.

    Boston Terrier Le Baskerville, leader of the Pit Bull Knights.

    Great Dane Le Baskerville, leader of the Mastiff Knights.

    The most fiercelypetitive of the Seven, they bared their teeth at the same prey.

    kwa-kwakwakwakwakwang!

    The strikes from Boston Terrier and Great Dane weren''t as smooth as those from Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro.

    The extremely concentrated auras drew six teeth, piercing through Amdusias''s hide.

    [Ohhhhhhhhhhhh!]

    Amdusias screamed in agony.

    The total number of teeth embedded in his body was twelve. Boston Terrier and Great Dane had not only sunk their teeth into the hide of their prey, they had ripped it to shreds.

    After that, four other Seven Counts joined.

    ''Isabe'' La Baskerville, leader of the Doberman Knights.

    ''German'' Le Baskerville, leader of the Shepherd Knights.

    ''Metzgerhund'' Le Baskerville, leader of the Rottweiler Knights.

    ''Cu-Chinn'' Le Baskerville, leader of the Wolfhound Knights.

    It was quite unusual to see all the Knights Leaders in one ce, save for the currently vacant position of CaneCorso.

    "Hehehe... I see your face often these days. It seems like it was just yesterday when we executed Set."

    Count Boston Terrier chuckled lowly.

    But neither Great Dane nor any of the other Seven Counts had any particr response to thatment.

    Each took a hundred Graduators under theirmand to intercept Amdusias.

    Meanwhile.

    "Break his horns first, then his neck. Then the hind legs. Then the lungs and liver."

    Vikir was giving orders, step by step.

    The Six Counts and the Osiris dutifully followed his orders.

    Everyone who watched eventually realized.

    "Vikir, was that guy... from Baskerville?"

    "I never heard of a guy like that in the Ironbloods Swordman?"

    "Yes, dude, I''ve heard of him, the supernova that appeared on Baskerville Family!"

    Some of the more gossipy of the group spoke up.

    "It is written that at the age of 15, he rescued a woman from another noble family and died heroically!"

    "That he even received a letter ofmendation from His Majesty the Emperor?"

    "I heard there was even a golden statue of him in a city somewhere."

    "What? Wasn''t that a rumor?"

    "I thought that was a rumor started by the Baskervilles to raise the family''s stock price..."

    "Now that I think about it, I wonder what the Baskervilles are upset about that would do such a thing. That closed family."

    "I can''t believe he was a real person in the first ce... and that I went to school with him all these years."

    The public is shocked.

    But Vikir couldn''t care less.

    "What are you doing? A demon who almost dragged your sons, daughters, and disciples into the abyss."

    Vikir''s words brought everyone to their senses.

    The first to step forward was Professor Morg Banshee.

    "Professors, listen up! Our first priority from now on is to protect our students!"

    At the same time, Professor Banshee unleashed his full power.

    Six magic circles were drawn, and within them, magic from the elements of earth, fire, wind, water, iron, and wood poured forth and began to envelop Amdusias.

    The other professors awoke and drew their own swords and magic.

    "Hehe- I was distracted for a moment, shame on me."

    "You will pay dearly for touching my daughter!"

    The spear king Cervantes and the Archon Roderick also unleashed their sharp momentum.

    kwa-kwakwakwakwakwang!

    Arge number of people united to attack Amdusias.

    Even and-based demon with a 1:1 strength ratio would be no match for such arge number.

    Especially after the destruction of the Hell Tree, his secret weapon.

    [...!]

    But Amdusias did not give up.

    Despite the neen piercing holes in his body, he stood up on all fours.

    He raised his broken horn and pointed it at Vikir.

    [I cannot fail in my duty, and you must die here].

    An uncanny amount of determination. It had a solidity that could never be matched by Vikir''s.

    Even when his body is torn apart and his soul torn to shreds, Amdusias rises.

    Somehow, on all fours, on all four hooves, it stands tall.

    ...kwakwang!

    Amdusias begins to move.

    Even in the midst of the cascading storm of auras, he was running straight for Vikir.

    A demon ready to throw away his life. His final dive was one that even the power of the many gathered here could not prevent.

    "Vikir! Get back!"

    "Vikir! Dodge!"

    Camus shouted, throwing a fireball at Amdusias'' body.

    Dolores shouted as well, imbuing Vikir''s body with holy power.

    But Vikir remained where he was.

    "...."

    He was merely looking for a momentary gap in Amdusias''s strength.

    [o-oooooo!]

    Amdusias ran. It lunged. His crumbling body pushed forward, unafraid of death.

    To eliminate the hated enemy in front of him, the variable that might be the greatest obstacle to his future endeavors.

    But.

    ...Boom!

    Something massive crashed down on Amdusias'' head.

    It was a metal object, heavy and solid enough to be indestructible even by Amdusias'' charge.

    [...A vault?]

    Amdusias''s charge was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a vault in the middle of the wall, dented by the impact.

    The massive vault, made of adamantium and orharcone, was one that Amdusias was surely familiar with.

    [This is Belial''s...?]

    Suddenly, something loomed in Amdusias''s vision as he turned his head.

    Demian. And the white-haired girl next to him.

    Sinir stood there with an expressionless face.

    Charak-

    Sinir ced one hand on his hat and chanted an incantation.

    The vault above Amdusias''s head seemed to melt for a moment, then began to transform.

    A rabbit with a pocket watch.

    Looking like it was in a hurry to get somewhere, the rabbit struck Amdusias with a watch made of a mixture of adamantium and orharcone.

    ...kwakwang!

    Amdusias'' legs snapped.

    Above him, Camus ck fireballs rained down with terrifying force.

    [He-aaaaaghh!]

    Amdusias screams.

    The barrage of heroes pouring in from all over was gradually sinking Amdusias.

    And then.

    ...Bam!

    Vikir took a step toward Amdusias.

    His hands glowed brightly with Dolores'' blessing.

    Vikir slowly stroked Beelzebub''s sword.

    A crimson aura zed, and it stretched out to form a massive greatsword.

    "Demon..."

    With that, the tip of Vikir''s sword exploded withyers andyers of aura.

    Boom, boom, boom!

    The sun rose and filled the sky above the Academy.

    The giant ck Sun was the result of eight teeth snapping together to form a sphere.

    It was the ultimate manifestation of Vikir''s power after leaving the tower and reaching the 8th Form, mid-Swordmaster rank.

    "Kill."

    No exceptions.

    From the first blow, to thest. There was no room for second thoughts.

    The demon must be struck down.

    ...sh!

    With a blinding burst of light, the ck Sun fell.

    Woo-duddeuddeuk!

    It sucked the slowly crumbling body of Amdusias into the center of the sphere, where it was swallowed up in an endless chain of crushing.

    [...! ......! ...!]

    An end without even a final word, let alone a will.

    A Eternal Annihtion.

    It was the end of Amdusias, the ''Unicorn of the Abyss'', the 5th of the Ten Corpses.

 Chapter 353: Outside the Tower (5)

    <h4>Chapter 353: Outside the Tower (5)</h4>

    Could this be the end of the wooden horse that took down the impregnable castle in legend?

    Tsutsutsutsutsutsutsutsutsutsuts...

    The giant horse''s form slowly began to crumble.

    From the tip of its broken horns to the tips of its hooves, it crumbled to ash and scattered, letting everyone know that there was an end to this long nightmare.

    Amdusias of 5th Corpse. It was the moment when the ''Unicorn of the Abyss'' waspletely destroyed.

    "...it, it''s over!"

    "The demon is dead!"

    "The Hell Tree is copsing!"

    Excited exmations came from all directions.

    Parents reunited with children they thought were dead, children reunited with parents they thought they would never see again, teachers who had lost and gained disciples they loved, disciples who had returned to the arms of their revered teachers.

    All of them shed tears of joy and cheered.

    Their gazes fell upon the center of the crater, where the Hell Tree had disappeared.

    The seven knights of the Baskerville Family stood there.

    The Seven Chariots, who intervened on the battlefield at the crucial moment and led thest stand.

    If it weren''t for them, the crowd gathered at the Colosseo Academy would have suffered far more damage.

    "Thank you, thank you, Baskerville! If it weren''t for you..."

    "I will never forget this favor for the rest of my life!"

    "But why are the knights of Baskerville Family here?"

    "Isn''t the Ironblood Swordman Family an extremely closed family?"

    "Surely that boy has summoned the knights, I saw him blow his whistle!"

    The crowd began to roar.

    Suddenly, all eyes were on one ce.

    The hero who had broken through the Abyss Tower.

    The Swordmaster who had formed a pir of aura that seemed to reach the heavens.

    A freshman who once attended the Colosseo Academy.

    ...And the one who brought all the hounds of the Ironbloods swordman to this ce.

    Vikir. Vikir Van Baskerville!

    Vikir unleashed all that he had been hiding.

    And the seven hounds bowed respectfully before him.

    "Your orders have been fulfilled."

    Osiris, the young patriarch of Baskerville, the iron-blooded swordsman, followed by Isabe, the leader of the Doberman, German, the leader of the Shepherd, Metzgerhund, the leader of the Rottweiler, Cu-Chinn, the leader of the Wolfhound, Boston Terrier, the leader of the Pit Bull, and Great Dane, the leader of the Mastiff, all bowed their heads.

    Everyone who saw it was shocked.

    This is Baskerville, not the other families.

    The men gathered here represent the entirety of Baskerville''s power. Even the next patriarch, Osiris, is among them.

    The sight of them all bowing their heads toward a nameless boy was more than shocking, it was unreal.

    And then a few sharp-eyed tycoons spoke up.

    " ..., you mean Vikir Van Baskerville?"

    "Underdog''s Deputy Magistrate! A legend of the Baskerville family, evenmended by the Emperor!"

    "Huh, wasn''t that a rumor? I thought he was a fictional character because of his outrageous exploits!"

    "I was right, a golden statue with a face exactly like his stood at Morg''s Red Fang Castle!"

    "You mean the hero who opened the way for peaceful trade between the Baskervilles and the barbarians was a real person, my God!"

    "Are you sure you''re not the same student who recovered the Wraith Tree in the second round of the University League?"

    He wasn''t the only one.

    Several students emerged from the Hell Tree and began to praise the heroic deities Vikir had seen inside the tower.

    "Dad, he''s the reason I was able to escape from that pack of hellhounds!"

    "He saved me from the daylilies! Oh, Vikir, my friend, how can I ever repay this favor!"

    "Thank you for forgiving us, and what the hell is your vessel...! Damn it, you are a true hero!"

    Everyone, aristocrats and barons andmoners alike, were looking at Vikir with respect, admiration, longing, and gratitude.

    That''s because he''s always been at the forefront, making all the sacrifices.

    No one noticed, of course, that it was all so he could reap the rewards within the tower.

    "Mr. Vikir, look over here, I''m taking a mana screenshot!"

    "I know you''ve done a great job solving this Hell Tree situation, what do you think...!"

    "Is it true that you''re the hidden power behind the Baskervilles!"

    "Why have you been hiding your identity for all this time!?"

    The reporters, realizing they had the scoop of the story, the jackpot, swarmed around Vikir like bees.

    He didn''t see theming, and he wondered how they''d managed to gather in suchrge numbers.

    "Husband! Aah! Get out of the way! I can''t see him!"

    "Van-nim, I''ll just pass by for a moment-!"

    Camus and Dolores tried to get closer to Vikir, but it was impossible to move forward because the crowd had swelled so much in an instant.

    Meanwhile, their gazes met, and neither woman backed down an inch.

    Meanwhile. Vikir''s normally tight-knit group of friends shrugged.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca waved at Vikir.

    Luckily, they''d been around him from the beginning, so it wasn''t hard to get close.

    "Vikir, you finally did it, you bastard! You can''t pretend we don''t know you''re a superhero!"

    "Great job, buddy! I didn''t realize you were a descendant of the Baskervilles, by the way, keeping such a secret. I''ll bet you''re going to have a good night''s drinking."

    "Aaahhhh! Vikir, I''m so d you''re okay! I''m most d you''re okay!"

    "Whew. Anyway, he''s a guy that makes me nervous."

    "...."

    Sinir, who was standing in the back, was also walking towards them with aplicated expression.

    ....

    But.

    Vikir was just looking at all these situations calmly.

    Unmoved, in fact, with a cold stare.

    With his back to the cheering crowd, Vikir silently stretched his left hand to the ground.

    He whispered in a low voice.

    "Follow Ahul, and for now, we part ways."

    He spoke to the madam cub attached to his left wrist.

    [hack-hack-hack...]

    The cub whined as if it didn''t want to go, but at Vikir''s urging, it jumped to the ground.

    Sasasak.

    The madam cub crawled after Ahul as they faded into a distant dot.

    Looking back a few times.

    "...."

    Then, once the madam cub waspletely out of sight, Vikir turned to face the crowd.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca came to his side.

    "Now, reporters, please be respectful, our Vikir is tired! Now, I know you''re excited to meet the superhero of the century~"

    "Vikir. Are you feeling okay? You seemed to be giving off all your aura earlier, I wonder if you need some pills or potions."

    "Don''t you think you''re doing too many interviews? Maybe you should rest first..."

    "Ugh, where did all these reporterse from? I didn''t even see them during the battle. What should I tell my dad to do to get them to leave?"

    A tribute to a friend who crossed countless lines of fire and aplished a great task that no one thought possible.

    It showed in their demeanor.

    ...But.

    Vikir''s response to this pure and unconditional favor from his friends was short.

    "Get lost."

    The words froze his friends in their tracks.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca tilted their heads as if they had misheard.

    "Huh? Vikir, who were you talking to?"

    "Who else?"

    "Whoa! Who''s bothering Vikir!"

    "You should tell your professors first, so they can bite some reporters..."

    Then Vikir spoke up again, this time more sharply.

    "I told you to fuck off. Scum."

    At this point, Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca realized something.

    that Vikir was now ring at them with the eyes of an enemy.

    "Hey, hey, hey... what''s the matter with you, why are you suddenly so...?"

    "Ugh. Did you think we were trying to take your honor? You''re wrong. We had no such intention..."

    "Oh, that''s right, Vikir! I was just purely worried about you..."

    "Did you hit your head somewhere? What''s wrong with you all of a sudden?"

    His friends reacted to his unexpected attitude with confusion.

    But Vikir cut them off.

    "I don''t have weaklings like you as friends. Know your fractions and get your heads out of your asses."

    Ending symbol.

    It was the line that cut off all the bonds, ties, and rtionships.

    Shock. A major shock. Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca froze in their seats, mouths half open.

    Tudor was the first toe to his senses, stammering with a pained expression.

    "What? What''s wrong, Vikir? Is it because you made the order in thest stage? Ha, but at that time neither of us had order..."

    But Tudor didn''t finish his sentence.

    Vikir pushed him in the chest and walked to the center of the crowd.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca felt an unbridgeable line in Vikir''s gaze as he stared down at them like bugs.

    A line drawn in stone. A distance that could never be closed.

    Tudor sprawled on the floor, unable to speak a word, and Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca beside him.

    They weren''t the only ones who didn''t feelfortable with Vikir''s cold gaze.

    Camus, Dolores, Sinir, and everyone else whose lives had been saved by Vikir in the tower froze in ce.

    Vikir had drawn a line in the sand with everyone he''d ever met and befriended at Colosseo Academy.

    No, everyone he had ever made a connection with.

    He stepped up to the front of the crowd of reporters and said.

    "I am ...."

    It was so unexpected that few people in the front row understood what Vikir was saying.

    As the reporters in the back of the room furrowed their brows and pricked up their ears, Vikir pulled something out of his pocket instead of answering.

    And.

    ...!

    Everyone who saw what came out of Vikir''s arms had to take a step back in horror.

    A crimson sword. Inverted pentagram ne. And the gue doctor mask.

    What these symbols meant was all too obvious.

    As the room fell silent for a moment, Vikir spoke in a low, but clear voice.

    "I am Night Hound."

 Chapter 354: Crime and Punishment (1)

    <h4>Chapter 354: Crime and Punishment (1)</h4>

    Vikir''s line fromst night was featured on the front page of every newspaper the next day.

    [Breaking News] Night Hound Arrested!

    [Breaking News] The identity of the Night Hound has been revealed..., and it''s a first-year student at Colosseo Academy!?

    [Exclusive] "I am Night Hound." The identity of Night Hound, the viin who terrorized the Imperial Capital!

    [Update] Night Hound is revealed to be the illegitimate son of an iron-blooded swordsman, causing a ripple of shock ...!

    Night Hound''s identity is revealed to be Vikir Van Baskerville, the illegitimate son of Ironblood Swordsman Baskerville!

    Vikir''s official charges were as follows.

    1. Murder and escape from the Baskervilles.

    2. Assassination of Cardinal Humbert and Evangelist Guilty of the Quovadis Family.

    3. Assassination of Patriarch Bartolomeo of the Bourgeois family.

    4. Charged with involvement in the assassination and disappearance of numerous other prominent persons.

    .

    .

    These are just a few of the major charges.

    Night Hound, a fearsome viin who has shaken the Empire for years.

    The Colloseo Academy has been the most affected by the revtion of his true identity.

    Whenever students gathered in groups of three or more, they would talk about it.

    "Oh my god... that scary monster was our ssmate, I can''t believe it."

    "How did it hide so nonchntly? That''s really scary."

    "Well, didn''t he help us when we were trapped in the Hell Tree?"

    "It must be a coincidence. Or is it the killer''s two faces? You never know."

    "Either way, it''s terrible, really. I understand he was in the newspaper department, so he wrote a column criticizing himself? There is no such thing as deception."

    "Dude, I was in the room next door to him, it was so creepy! I could always hear the sound of a sword being sharpened in the next room...."

    "Me too! I ate with him once in group practice! He was so expressionless, it was kind of creepy."

    "Ugh, I used to run into him at the gym all the time~ I almost got killed too!"

    By far, public opinion was negative. Which is to be expected.

    The image of Night Hound that had been steadily forming in the newspapers was that of a viinous threat to the tranquility of the Empire.

    But there were a few who disagreed with the majority.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and others.

    "Have you already forgotten what happened in the Hell Tree, all thanks to Vikir... those ungrateful things."

    Sancho nodded as he listened to Tudor''s mutterings.

    Sancho, who is always deep in his heart, did not pay attention to what happened with Vikir yesterday.

    "Because Vikir first coldly drew the line, he must have shaken off what little burden he had in his heart. He''s a deep thinker to the end."

    "Exactly. Vikir took measures to prevent sparks from flying to us, so he kept his distance."

    Piggy muttered in a grim voice.

    Then Bianca, next to him, snorted.

    "Ugh. How can you fool anyone with that kind of behavior? You know, me, Vikir, and Sinir. It''s really immature of you to hide your true feelings."

    "Are you immature? How could you do that in the midst of the moment, with all those tears and snotty noses calling you a traitor?"

    "What! I, when!"

    Tudor''s sarcasm sets Bianca off.

    But their verbal sparring, which would normally havested hours, dies down within seconds.

    Neither of them had any energy left to fight.

    Even Tudor, usually a cheerful man, sounded as dead as grass.

    "What do you think we can do for Vikir?"

    " ... But one thing''s for sure, we can''t stay like this."

    "That''s right, we have to do something! It''s a trial! Shall we attend as an audience member and shout slogans?"

    "Nah, you''ll just get dragged out of there. We need something a little more real and immediate..."

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca began to cross their arms.

    Just then.

    "Let us help too."

    A low voice came from behind them.

    They turned to see a group of students standing on their toes.

    Gordon. Underdog. Grenouille. Highbro, Midbro. Lowbro.

    All of them had been involved in some way with Vikir within the Hell Tree.

    "I-all of us-are alive because of Vikir, and I owe him a favor."

    "I''m d I met him, too, so I could atone for my sins. If it weren''t for Vikir, I''d be the demon''s ything forever."

    "I don''t like Vikir, but... there''s a girl I care about and she seems to be very worried about him."

    "We protect our lord."

    "We protect."

    "Protect."

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca weren''t the only ones thinking about Vikir.

    And from the very back of the group, one person walked out.

    Student Council President Dolores.

    She was a longtime supporter of Night Hound. Since the days when everyone, even Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca, had criticized Night Hounds.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca''s faces light up when they realize that they''re on the same newspaper staff.

    Dolores, meanwhile, spoke in a calm voice.

    "This is a very bad situation, guys."

    Her words made everyone tense.

    Vikir had severed all ties just before turning himself in, so no one around him was affected.

    However, that meant that no one was there to defend or support him, and he had to bear the full weight of his punishment alone.

    Dolores continued in a calm voice.

    "The Baskervilles imed that the illegitimate son who murdered the second son and escaped was acting on his own, and that the red horn that summoned the Knights was stolen. The Knights were sent out to retrieve it in the first ce."

    Cutting off the tail. The Baskervilles issued an official statement denying any connection to Vikir.

    The powers that could have treated Vikir as a nobleman and allowed him to avoid the death penalty have turned their attention.

    Dolores bit her lip.

    "Vikir-nim will most likely be sentenced to death, so we need to convince the jurors of this trial as far in advance as possible."

    The judge in the trial of Night Hound was the Emperor, or his representative.

    The jurors are seven, and each of the Seven Families that support the Empire sends a Patriarch, or Patriarch''s representative, to attend.

    Dolores scanned her surroundings.

    Fortunately, the social status of the students here is generally high.

    Dolores gathered students with the same goals and intentions and divided the work.

    "Tudor, I want you to convince the patriarch of the Don Quixote family, and Bianca, I want you to convince the patriarch of the Usher family. Sancho will appeal to the mercenary guilds of the north for the truth, and Piggy will work with me to produce a newspaper. I will, of course, appeal to the Pope of Quocadis Family with the whole truth. Gordon and Underdog, you will persuade the Aristocrats, Barons, Commoners, and Student Council officers, respectively. Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro, I want you to gather as much information as you can from Baskerville Family, in case there are any possible extenuating circumstances....."

    After speaking, Dolores closed her eyes tightly and bowed her head.

    "Please, guys!"

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and everyone else nodded, their faces determined.

    "You don''t have to ask, it''s something we''d love to do, and we''ll do everything we can."

    The students gathered in a circle around Dolores and spoke in unison.

    "...Thank you."

    Dolores looked back at everyone with a moist gaze.

    Even though there was nothing she could do about it now, she felt as if a hole had been opened in her chest.

    It feels like progress, albeit a little.

    ...just then.

    "What the. A real kid idea."

    A sarcastic voice came from behind them.

    Where everyone''s eyes turn, they see a female student with red-haired hair burning like a me, grinning.

    "Hi, I''m here because Vikir told me to get acquainted with you guys."

    On her chest patch, a name tag reads ''Morg Mu Camus''.

    "...?"

    Dolores squinted and looked at Camus.

    As if demanding an exnation for what she had just said.

    As if on cue, Camus jumped right to the point.

    "Your intention to convince the jurors to reduce Vikir''s sentence is good, but do you really think Vikir wants that?"

    "...What do you mean?"

    Dolores spoke up, representing everyone''s questions.

    Camus shook her head and tapped her fingers against her head.

    "Use your head."

    "...."

    Everyone''s breath caught in their throats at the sound of Camus''s words. Never in their wildest dreams did they think anyone would say such a thing to Dolores.

    But Dolores was unfazed.

    "I thought this was the best I could do... You don''t think so?"

    "Of course not. Because what you''re about to do isn''t the best, and it''s not what Vikir would want."

    Dolores'' expression hardened at the continued provocation.

    She asks in a hard tone.

    "What would Vikir want, and what are your ns?"

    Then Camus smiled, darker than before.

    "I used to be like you. I didn''t know anything. What Vikir wanted."

    "...?"

    "But now I think I know. What he''s preparing for, what he''s waiting for, what he''s fighting for. All of it."

    "...!"

    For a moment, the smile wiped from Camus''s face.

    "Leave Vikir alone. He''s not the kind of man who needs your worries."

    "Yeah, how would you know?"

    Tudor asked, and Camus gave him a pathetic look.

    "Then don''t you know, he''s got a brain. And that he''s carrying a mission so heavy that normal people don''t even dare to understand it."

    "...."

    Everyone knows that.

    They''ve seen Vikir''s many aplishments at the Colosseo Academy and in the Hell Tree.

    Camus continued.

    "Vikir''s every move is probably calcted, perhaps a lifelong n, and it''s not something we dare to worry about or interfere with."

    "...I admit that, but does that mean there''s nothing we can do?"

    At Dolores'' words, Camus shook her head.

    "We must do what we can."

    "And what is that?"

    "Simple, we do what Vikir has been doing all this time. Stopping it."

    "...Stop? What Vikir has been doing all this time is stopping what?"

    Dolores''s question resonates with everyone.

    And under their gazes, Camus pulls something out of her bosom and ces it on the table.

    Tsk.

    Everyone''s faces hardened as they saw what was on the table.

    It was a bloodstained mask, a picaresque mask symbolizing Night Hound.

    As everyone looked up in bewilderment, Camus spoke.

    "The gate that is about to open. ... ''The Gate of Destruction''."

 Chapter 355: Crime and Punishment (2)

    <h4>Chapter 355: Crime and Punishment (2)</h4>

    Nakajaniye, the Great Judge at the center of the ecliptic.

    Standing before the ce where the guilty are judged, Night Hound stands still with his characteristic expressionless face.

    Despite everyone''s worries, Vikir was quite at peace.

    ''...I''ve finished my work at the Academy.''

    With a lot of things checked off his to-do list, a weight was lifted from his shoulders.

    Everything was going the way he expected, and now it was really just a matter of finishing touches.

    That''s why Vikir feels lighthearted. In fact, he''s even looking forward to it a bit.

    Meanwhile, there are many eyes on Vikir as he stands there with a nonchnt expression.

    First of all, there were the members of the Seven Great Families of the Empire: Baskerville the Iron-Blooded Swordsman, Morg the Mage, Quovadis the Faithful, Bourgeois the Conglomerate, Leviathan the Poisonous Dread, Don Quixote the Spearman, and Usher the Archer Divine Pce.

    Representatives of the families were seated separately in the courtroom as jurors, while other family members were seated in the audience.

    With the Emperor absent from the trial, the representative of the Imperial Family, dressed in a nun''s robe, a distinctive garb often worn by members of the Imperial Family, sits at the bench and conducts the trial in a mechanical, clerical manner.

    "Juror Hugo Le Baskerville, Iron Blood Swordsman Baskerville"

    Juror Hugo Le Baskerville, representing the Baskerville family.

    He was sitting in a wheelchair with his back to the judge.

    The deputy called on Hugo and asked.

    "Attempted poisoning of the second son, Set Le Baskervilles, and the patriarch, Hugo himself. You have used Vikir Van Baskerville of the theft of the Red Whistle, a sacred item that could mobilize the family''s military power; is that correct?"

    "...."

    Hugo turned away and did not answer.

    The poison had left him too weak to move, let alone answer.

    Instead, his eldest son, Osiris, stood beside him and nodded.

    "...."

    With an extremely dry expression.

    With that, the deputy ended the Ironblood swordsman''s final interrogation.

    Then he abbreviated.

    "The allegations against the Baskervilles are as follows. While the crimes of rebellion, premeditated murder, and the poisoning of a patriarch are serious and heinous, the used is a member of the Baskerville family and therefore deserves to be treated as a nobleman. I therefore request a verdict of mitigating circumstances."

    There was no objection.

    The deputy took his eyes off Baskerville and looked at Morg next to him.

    Morg''s juror, Morg Mu Respane.

    She stood over the judge, her expression stiff and rigid.

    The deputy was still reading from the papers in a nd voice.

    "Morg''s case is as follows. Although the crimes charged are grave and heinous �C rebellion, murder with intent to kill, and poisoning of a patriarch �C the used is entitled to the treatment of a nobleman. Therefore, I ask for a verdict of mitigating circumstances."

    Morg Respane came to the same conclusion as Baskerville.

    No matter how grave the offense, a man of noble blood should be treated as such.

    Respane spoke in a calm voice.

    " ... The previous precedent for this can be found in the 47 Men''s Riot, 35 years ago."

    Back then, the problem was much more serious.

    It could have overthrown an empire.

    "There were two heroes who put down the 47: Winston, who is no longer with us, and Orca, who is no longer with us. Their sacrifice ensured that what could have been a dangerous situation was quelled early."

    Everyone in the courtroom swallowed hard at Respane''s words.

    "But what was the verdict in the end? Despite the strong pleas for death from the two heroes, Winston and Orca, who quelled the riot, the Marquis de Sade, the ringleader of the riot, was not sentenced to death in the end. Wasn''t it because of the ''respect for the Great Nobility''?"

    In other words, Vikir, too, has the blood of a great nobleman, so the death penalty is too much.

    Respane concluded with these words.

    Following her, Nabokov I, a juror from the Quovadis family, and Demian, a juror from the Bourgeois family, expressed simr opinions.

    "Holholhol... that kid is a devout believer in Lun. I realize we have to take into ount the circumstances of the dead, but I can''t help but be merciful. I think the death penalty is excessive."

    "I believe the used has already paid his dues. The astronomical amount of money he''s put on the line shows that he''s remorseful, and I, too, believe that the death penalty is excessive."

    Baskerville, Morg, Quovadis, and Bourgeois.

    Four of the seven major families argued for Vikir''smutation.

    But there were others who disagreed.

    "This is nonsense, if we don''t execute a murderer who has killed so many people, who are we going to execute?"

    "Exactly, I think we should at least iste him forever so he can''t crawl back into society, and the death penalty is the best way to do that."

    The attitude of the jurors in Usher and Don Quixote was decidedly hostile.

    They were representing the patriarchs Cervantes and Roderick, both of whom were in need of nursing care as a result of the Hell Tree incident.

    Don Quixote La Mancha Passamonte, and Usher P Madeline.

    These young men and women were each patriarch siblings and stood before the jurors in the capacity of the family''s representative.

    They were also the uncle and aunt of Tudor and Bianca, respectively.

    And, finally, Hobbes de Leviathan, the patriarch of the extreme poisonous family of Leviathan, broke the heavy silence and delivered the final verdict.

    "... death, and no other punishment will make him pay the price he deserves."

    Four of the seven families were arguing for mitigating circumstances, and the other three were arguing for the death penalty without mitigating circumstances.

    Even the Imperial family''s representative was perplexed, for he had never seen a trial with such a divided jury.

    He looked back at Vikir and asked.

    "Do you have anyst words before the verdict?"

    Vikir looked up at that.

    "...."

    His calm eyes swept over the judge.

    Hugo, sitting in his wheelchair, his back turned, his expression unreadable.

    Osiris, his brow furrowed.

    Respane''s face is stony as she thinks of her daughter.

    Nabokov I and Demian, who look like they''re having a bad day.

    The other three jurors have different expressions.

    Passamonte, Madeline, and Hobbes.

    On the outside, they appear calm, just, and fair, but in reality, they harbor evil intentions that are uglier and more hideous than anything else.

    ''...Almost all of the remaining Ten Corpses havee out.''

    Vikir kept a sharp eye on the three remaining demons.

    Originally, the ''Gates of Destruction'' could only be opened if ten demons gathered together.

    But with only four of them left alive, it was likely that they would have to resort to more extreme measures to aplish their mission.

    And it was clear that they would want to eliminate Vikir first.

    ''I''d be happy to y along with your ns.''

    Vikir also had a separate goal, and it did not particrly conflict with the three demons'' goals.

    So Vikir simply closed his eyes in silence and swallowed all the arguments.

    Meanwhile, those listening in on the trial were growing impatient with Vikir''s demeanor.

    "Look at him, look at him, look at him, look at his shamelessness!"

    "He killed so many people and he doesn''t even show any remorse!"

    " ...I thought you were a hero, how disappointing."

    "The death penalty! Evil people like him should be put to death!"

    "Let''s show him that justice is alive!"

    The uproar barely subsided after the guards left.

    The imperial family''s representative descended the stairs, the hem of a nun''s robe fluttering, and asked

    "I''ll ask you again, this is thest time. Do you have anything to say before the verdict?"

    Only then did Vikir answer.

    His eyes were fixed on the imperial representative, but his voice was directed elsewhere.

    "Retreating is not running away, and it is not wise to wait when danger outstrips hope. A wise man knows how to save today for tomorrow and does not risk everything in one day."

    From a brave knight of the Don Quixote family long ago.

    "...."

    "...."

    "...."

    Hearing this, Passamonte, Madeline, and Hobbes exchanged meaningful nces.

    Then, the verdict was in.

    The Emperor''s representative read the verdict in a reverent voice, with the hem of the nun''s robe hanging down.

    "The defendant, Vikir Van Baskerville. He is a devout follower of Lun, son of the Baskervilles Family, evangelist for the Quovadis, prospective son-inw of Morg, and godfather of the Bourgeois."

    This means that he is a scion of the Baskervilles, is on good religious terms with the Quovadds, has a marriage contract with the Morg, and is considered by Demian of the Bourgeois to be the godfather of their deceased daughter.

    "But the used hasmitted the unpardonable felony of murder on several asions, and the offense is the more grave and heinous because each of the persons he has murdered has yed a vital role in the security and progress of the Empire. ordingly...!"

    The final verdict came.

    "The death penalty is denied, with due consideration for the noble lineage of the used."

    The words brought a sigh of relief from Baskerville, Morg, Quovadis, and Bourgeois.

    "However, given the gravity and viciousness of the used''s crimes, a mere sentence of imprisonment is deemed unnecessary."

    Another sigh, this time from Don Quixote, Usher, and Leviathan.

    Now, Vikir''s fate was officially sealed.

    "I hereby sentence the defendant, Vikir Van Baskerville, to ''3,021 life terms of imprisonment without parole'' .... Furthermore, the ce of confinement shall not be a ''general prison,'' but a ''special prison'' intended for the permanent social istion of felons."

    Life imprisonment without parole. That too over 3,000 times.

    This meant that even if he lived and died once, he would not get out of prison until the process was repeated three thousand times and twenty-one more times.

    The sentence reflected the court''s determination to never reintegrate Vikir back into society.

    ... However, what Vikir had in mind before the sentencing was something else.

    Not a ''normal prison'', but a ''special prison''. This could only mean one thing.

    ''...Nouvelle Vague.''

    It was a prison that existed at the very edge of the Empire.

    A prison so terrifying that once imprisoned, even their souls were trapped there.

    Vikir is imprisoned in a prison so harsh and horrific that death is considered preferable.

    For a life sentence that willst a whopping 3,021 times!

    Baskerville, Morg, the Quorvadis, and Bourgeois audience members are in a somber mood.

    On the other hand, the audience of Don Quixote, Usher, and Leviathan is buoyant.

    A swirl of mixed emotions.

    In the middle of it all, Vikir was quietly sharpening the sword in his heart.

    ''...This is the end game.''

    End game.

    A few chess pieces left on the board. The battle bes extremely fierce.

    It was the beginning of the final chapter.

 Chapter 356: Crime and Punishment (3)

    <h4>Chapter 356: Crime and Punishment (3)</h4>

    Even the most notorious prison in the imperial capital seemed unable to handle the notoriety of Night Hound.

    Ahead of his transfer to Nouvelle Vague, the most remote and worst prison on the continent, Vikir was temporarily housed in a holding facility on the Imperial Capital.

    "Tomorrow at dawn."

    Vikir closed his eyes, remembering his journey to Nouvelle Vague.

    3,021 life sentences and imprisonment in Nouvelle Vague.

    A sentence that would be executed just six hours after the verdict.

    " ...I''m d I escaped the death penalty, but Hugo''s plea was a surprise."

    After analyzing numerous precedents, he was confident that a summary execution would not be granted.

    However, even if an unusual result urred and he was summarily executed, there were several secret ns in ce.

    "It''s going well."

    Vikir epted the verdict withoutint.

    This verdict, too, was part of the original n.

    There were some variables, but it was well within the margin of error he''d anticipated.

    Then.

    -Execute the criminal! Execute the criminal!

    -Execute him!

    -Burn him!

    -Apologize! Apologize!

    Small noises came from beyond the bars and walls.

    Apparently, the protesters had gathered and were causing a ruckus.

    The anger and grief of those who had lost family, friends, and lovers to Night Hound was immense.

    They had been protesting outside nonstop since the verdict was handed down.

    [...Isn''t that sad?]

    Decarabia asked suddenly.

    Decarabia had shrunk in size to a tiny dot, wedged between Vikir''s corbones.

    That''s why it was impossible to detect it during the pre-incarceration search of his belongings.

    [Everything you did was for the good of humanity, and if it weren''t for you, the gates would have been opened and countless people would have died, and those who died were unforgivable when they made their pact with the demon in the first ce, so they should be thanking you instead].

    Decarabia rolls its one eye, wondering if it''s more embarrassing.

    Vikir, however, has not lost his dignified demeanor.

    "There is no way for them to know that the dead are all beings who have made a contract with the demon and willmit great sins against all mankind in the future. Even if I tell them, they won''t believe me."

    Humans are animals that don''t believe in anything unless they see it with their own eyes.

    Even if Vikir exined it, it wouldn''t work, and he wasn''t sure he could convince all those people in the first ce.

    "So it would be easier for me to be the one to kill."

    [Human. Do you dream of being a hero or a saint?]

    "No. I just want to save as many people as I can."

    He''s not interested in concepts like absolutes.

    There is no desire to make a noble sacrifice for the sake of humanity as a whole.

    He just wants to hold on to the few warmths that made his previous life bearable, and the precious connections he''s made in this one.

    So Vikir spent some time in silent meditation with his eyes closed.

    Feeling the cold sensation of the restraints around his wrists and ankles.

    ''... and these restraints?''

    Vikir ran his fingers over the cuffs on his wrists, the shackles on his ankles, and the chains that connected them.

    Cold metal, but unusually heavy and solid.

    Not only were they more frightening and harder than any other metal of the same volume and mass, but they even had the ability to drain and neutralize the restraints'' mana.

    Vikir was suddenly intrigued by this restraint.

    ''Let''s study it a bit, maybe it''ll give me some interesting variables.''

    Just as Vikir was fiddling with the restraints.

    kkiig-

    The door to the dungeon opened and a guard''s voice came through.

    "Visitation."

    Prisoners on death row, or those being transferred to Nouvelle Vague, are only allowed three visits.

    But Vikir had already turned down one request from the Baskervilles and two from students at the Colosseo Academy.

    The guards thought that Vikir would deny them another visit and tried to close the door.

    But.

    "Let them in."

    Vikir epted the third visitation request.

    The guard looked a little surprised and turned around.

    Soon, the visitors began to descend toward the dungeon''s grate.

    Four men in ck hoods and robes.

    They walked up to Vikir and removed their hoods to reveal their bare faces.

    "Hello, it''s been a while."

    The first to speak was Cindy Wendy.

    She was followed by a worried-looking Chihuahua, Minipin, and finally Ahul.

    "Young Master, what''s going on, oh my God!"

    "Boss, Your face has be half-faced!"

    "...Hunting leader."

    They were all currently using Baskerville''sst name.

    That was because Vikir had appointed them as his aides upon his promotion to Senator within the family.

    "Unexpected."

    Vikir stared at Cindywendy''s face in front of him.

    "I thought you wouldn''t take the surname Baskerville."

    She shrugged.

    "Well, I''m getting older, and I think I need to lean on something, because sometimes I get too tired."

    "You don''t lean on a sword when you''re tired. Alliances are only temporary. Wasn''t your ultimate goal to get revenge on the Baskervilles?"

    "Yes, but I''ve decided to think a little differently."

    Cindy Wendy smiled and raised her left hand.

    Sparkle-.

    Surprisingly, a small ring was shining on the ring finger of her left hand.

    It was obviously a wedding ring, a token of love, or a pledge of love between lovers.

    "If I be the mistress of the Baskervilles, wouldn''t that also be revenge in some sense? It''s like swallowing up the Baskervilles from the inside."

    "...?"

    For a moment, Vikir''s eyes, which had never wavered, twitched slightly.

    Suddenly, a line from Hugo that he''d heard many years ago popped into his head.

    ''I think Osiris has a girlfriend, but she''s never stepped on his tail, and when I ask, he never answers.''

    Hugo had said this to Vikir when he visited Baskerville for the second round of the University League.

    Vikir was surprised.

    Before his regression, Osiris had been an emotionless killer doll, and now he was dating a woman.

    Vikir had thought that Hugo and Osiris'' demeanor had changed a bit since the arrival of Pomeranian.

    But he never thought it would have this kind of butterfly effect.

    ''I don''t know if this is good or bad.''

    It was a difficult phenomenon to discern, even for the ever-understanding Vikir.

    "...Since when?"

    "Since I was brokering and supporting Baskerville''s trade with the natives on the Western Front. I met him a few times on bodyguard duty. Well, we knew each other as children."

    As it turned out, it was Osiris who had gotten to the bottom of everything that had happened to Andromalius after the death of his host, Set, and had cleaned up his mess.

    After Vikir left for the Academy, Osiris cleared the name of the Messinadnaro family, which had been unfairly exterminated, and acknowledged the Baskerville family''s responsibility for this.

    ''There were procedures forpensation for damage and appointment of personnel to oust old elders. Did you get hit in the eye during that time?''

    Moreover, she was a childhood friend of his, so it''s not surprising.

    The encounter between Cindy Wendy and Osiris was big news, enough to make even the usually dull Vikir pick his butt up off the floor.

    Meanwhile, Cindy Wendy said that her feelings were renewed.

    " ...I''m the opposite of what I was then."

    When they first met and talked to Cindy Wendy, she was in jail and Vikir was out of jail.

    But now, Vikir is in prison and Cindy Wendy is out of prison.

    Vikir''s response to this is short.

    "I expected it."

    Vikir turned his head.

    Chihuahua, Minipin, and Ahul were looking at him with concern.

    But instead, Vikir was worried about those outside the cage.

    "There are things you need to do."

    Vikir took Chihuahua, Minipin, and Ahul aside and whispered something to them.

    " ...to stock up on food, ...to fortify the hignds, ...to move the human race, ...to thest fortress, ...tochka."

    Each one had a slightly different keyword, but there were severalmon ones.

    Finally, when it was Cindy Wendy''s turn, Vikir rose from his seat and approached the grate.

    Swoosh.

    And then. The leather of Vikir''s face suddenly peeled away.

    A picaresque mask.

    The strange mask, which merged with the user''s flesh the moment it was overwritten, fell into Cindy Wendy''s hands.

    "Oh my God, why are you giving this to me?"

    "It''s not yours. Give it to Camus."

    An artifact left behind by Dantalian upon his death. Imbued with demonic power.

    A mask that Vikir has worn on countless hunts of demons and their followers, a symbol of Night Hound.

    "I''m sure she''ll understand what I mean."

    Camus is apanied by Seere. So surely she will understand what it means to be handed this mask.

    After being handed the picaresque mask, Cindy Wendy shook her head in disgust.

    "I wonder how much that tomboy will turn the world upside down again... The entire Morg family was turned upside down during the Wraith Tree."

    "The world will turn upside down naturally."

    "...?"

    Vikir''s face fell at Cindy Wendy''s rhetoricalment.

    Cindy Wendy, Chihuahua, Minipin, and Ahul all looked at Vikir with wide eyes.

    Vikir then addressed them all.

    "There will be a great flood soon."

    It was the first code of conduct for survival in the age of destruction.

    The only way to save humanity.

    "Prepare the ark."

    Those were Vikir''sst words to his henchmen.

 Chapter 357: Voluntary Escort (1)

    <h4>Chapter 357: Voluntary Escort (1)</h4>

    The day of the transfer had finally arrived.

    The streets were packed with people wondering about the identity of the Hound of the Night, a felon on his way to Nouvelle Vague, the world''s worst prison.

    "Oh my God, I never thought the Night Hound would be caught."

    "I read in the newspaper that he turned himself in."

    "... Why on earth would he turn himself in?"

    "I don''t know. I''m more curious about what it looks like."

    "Well, he''s a serial killer who''s killed tons of people, so of course he''s gotta look creepy."

    "I''ve heard rumors that he''s over six feet tall. He''s got horrible tattoos all over his body."

    In the morning, a huge crowd gathered to watch Night Hound being transported.

    Then a carriage began to pull up in the distance.

    A moving carriage, surrounded by dozens ofyers of guards.

    On top of it was a cage of ckened grates.

    Additionally, there are handcuffs on both wrists of the criminal, shackles on both ankles, and chains wrapped around the body.

    All of these were special restraints made of ''BDISSEM'', a mystical substance that neutralizes mana and forcibly binds all physical forces.

    A mark reserved for felons who were to be sentenced to death or imprisoned in the Nouvelle Vague.

    Whenever a prisoner is escorted in wearing it, clouds of people gather to watch.

    But this time was different.

    It wasn''t the BDISSEM restraints that caught the crowd''s attention, nor was it thergest convoy ever.

    "... That''s Night Hound?"

    "Isn''t that a kid?"

    "No. Isn''t that some kind of photo shoot?"

    The sight of Vikir''s face, sitting alone and silent in the cage, caused the crowd to quietly put down the rotten food and rocks in their hands.

    "...."

    "...."

    "...."

    No one dares to shout or throw garbage in Vikir''s face.

    His aura is untouchable. A razor-sharp momentum that makes the air around him tingle, even without mana.

    Vikir moves forward, silently, without much fuss.

    Then.

    "You, you bastard, my father''s enemy!"

    A boy ran through the crowd.

    He flung the dagger he held in his hand with such skill that it flew through the gap between the many guards.

    But of course.

    Thwack!

    The boy''s dagger was intercepted by a long sword.

    ck hair that stood up like pointed ears. Eyes as red as rubies. A uniform of ck and brown.

    It was Countess Isabe Baskerville, the leader of the Doberman Knights of the Iron Blood Swordsman Baskerville.

    She was one of the Seven Counts of the Baskerville family and the one in charge of Vikir''s convoy today.

    " ... It''s bittersweet to have to send my nephew to the Nouvelle Vague."

    A somewhat distant blood rtive who is equivalent to Vikir''s 7th cousin''s aunt.

    Though they had only met in person twice in the past, once at Set''s execution and once during the Hell Tree incident, she genuinely felt sorry for Vikir.

    "I should have been present at that great banquet. If you had joined the Doberman Knights, none of this would have happened..."

    But Vikir had something else to say.

    "I am having a hard time because my sessor, Professor Sady, is gone."

    Isabe was originally a member of the imperial arrest team, but returned to the family after handing over her position to her sessor, Sady.

    However, the Hell Tree incident exposed Professor Sady as a traitor, and the failure to capture Sady meant that there was no one left to serve as escort.

    Isabe was forced to be Vikir''s escort, even though they were rted by blood.

    Isabe nodded obediently, knowing that there was no point in paying respect to a prisoner when they were already in a rtionship.

    "Sady, she''s a mystery, and I''ve always suggested that we should be wary of her, because she''s very skilled, but we don''t know what she''s capable of...."

    Isabe clicked her tongue, as if she''d seen thising.

    "...."

    "...."

    An awkward silence hung between them for a moment.

    It was unlikely that a prisoner and his escort would talk, but since they were rted and there were no hard feelings, Isabe had a word of advice for Vikir.

    "My nephew."

    "?"

    Vikir turned his head, and Isabe spoke in a voice that could not have been more serious.

    "You would be better offmitting suicide now."

    If he died now, he could be buried in the ground. That might be better.

    The Nouvelle Vague, a ce so horrific that these words came from the mouth of Isabe, a woman who had been through it all.

    That''s where Vikir is headed now. The ce where he will spend the next 3,021 life sentences without parole.

    * * *

    A little whileter, the convoy began to sail out to sea.

    Naturally, Vikir did notmit suicide.

    He simply boarded a ship at the tip of the northern continent and sailed out into the "harsh waters" of the ice drift.

    Vikir''s cell on the deck of a huge ship. Handcuffed, shackled, and chained, Vikir sat stiffly in the pouring rain and icy waves.

    ''...Even the road to Nouvelle Vague is difficult.''

    The waves that were tens of meters high and the pouring storm were so violent that it seemed as if they would capsize the ship at any moment and engulf it.

    Then.

    Vikir was alone, meditating in silence, when a group of people approached him.

    "How does it feel to be looking for a ce to die?"

    "Hmph, I''d rather drown in the sea here."

    "You don''t know what Nouvelle Vague is like, that''s why you''re so nonchnt."

    Three giggling voices.

    Vikir turned his head and saw familiar faces.

    Don Quixote La Mancha Pedro. Usher P Isolde. Thomas De Leviathan.

    They were convoys from the Usher family, the Don Quixote family, and the Leviathan family, respectively.

    The fact that all seven families present as jurors sent one escort was due to the fact that Isabe, who should have been the sole escort, was rted to the guilty party, Vikir.

    To bnce the equation, six families of varying skill and status were sent to keep the Baskervilles in check, three of whom were Pedro, Isolde, and Thomas.

    "The Nouvelle Vague, It''s a very dreadful prison, sunk deep in the ultra-deep zone of the ocean."

    "You will die on the way there."

    "So why don''t you kill yourself now, it''s better that way, because Nouvelle Vague is indeed a living hell."

    Pedro, Isolde, and Thomas whispered slyly in Vikir''s ear.

    Of course, Vikir wasn''t listening to them.

    He was focused on the faint stench that emanated from them.

    ''...They are the demon''s minions.''

    They smelled simr to the stench of Passamonte, Madeline, and Hobbes in the courtroom.

    But even without the scent, Vikir already knew their faces, their names, and their bios.

    Like the prey he''d been hunting all this time.

    "Don Quixote La Mancha Pedro. Usher P Isolde. Thomas de Leviathan. Each rose to high positions within their families after sacrificing their men, their cousins, and countless people in their fiefdoms to the demon, and gaining demonic powers. Was the taste of easy power sweet?"

    The three of them stiffened at Vikir''s words.

    They exchanged nces and then spoke.

    "Indeed. I see why my master told me to kill you and get rid of you somehow."

    "You are a squire who will not be relieved by imprisonment in the Nouvelle Vague."

    "This ship will be your grave."

    Vikir is an easy prey, as he has no mana due to his BDISSEM restraints.

    That''s what Pedro, Isolde, and Thomas thought.

    But.

    "..., what''s going on?"

    A voice interrupted the trio.

    Isabe La Baskerville.

    The leader of the Doberman Knights stood on the stormy deck, ring at them.

    Her fierce eyes were already filled with hostility.

    "What conversation was that just now? Demonic power? master? Why should this ship be a tomb for sinners on their way to the Nouvelle Vague?"

    Isabe''s voice was dripping with life.

    Pedro, Isolde, and Thomas clicked their tongues.

    "Did you hear that? That was careless."

    "What do you think? You were going to kill them all anyway."

    "Better to nip the Baskervilles in the bud, you never know what she knows."

    A 3:1 situation.

    Even if Isabe was the First Countess and an expert inbat, she couldn''t take on three of them at once.

    Pedro, Isolde, and Thomas were also among the most powerful men in Don Quixote, Usher, and Leviathan respectively.

    But the tables were about to turn again.

    "You''ve been nning something fun, I see."

    "Lord Lun. Punish those peculiar servants."

    "What''s going on here, why have those bastards suddenly be demon worshippers?"

    Three new shadows stretched out from behind Isabe''s back.

    A dark-haired middle-aged man with a stern expression, a hulking cleric, and a gentle, kindly-looking man.

    They were convoys sent from Morg, Quovadis, and Bourgeois, respectively.

    Morg Mu Banshee, Mozgus Lun Quovadis, and Bourgeois Ju Lovebad.

    Banshee, the Academy''s next principal, and Mozgus, the Archbishop of the New Testament Sect, were specially selected for this convoy.

    Their strong willingness to volunteer was the main reason.

    Behind Isabe, the leader of the Doberman Knights, came Professor Banshee, Archbishop Mozgus, and Lovebad, the cousin of Merlini Lovegood, the student body president of Themiscyra Academy for Women.

    "I''m afraid I''m not going to be able to overhear what was just said."

    "Since demons were mentioned, I''ll need to check Vikir-kun''s testimony as well."

    "I don''t know, but your side is certainly suspicious. And you revealed your intention to kill Isabe first."

    The battle situation became 3:4. In this case, Isabe''s side clearly seemed to have an advantage.

    But.

    Pedro, Isolde, and Thomas were still frowning.

    "Do you think we did this recklessly?"

    "Hehehe. Such idiotic things."

    "...Hmm. It''s time for the medicine to take effect."

    Thomas de Leviathan, an ultra-doctor, pulled out his pocket watch.

    Isabe''s expression changed first.

    "Ma, mana...!?"

    At the same time, Banshee, Mozgus, and Lovebad''s faces hardened.

    Thomas smirked.

    "The tea you drank contained a substance that is the raw material for BDISSEM. It was in powdered form and in very small amounts, so you probably didn''t notice."

    "The amount each of you drank could easily buy this ship. How could it not be effective? It''s worth the price, isn''t it?"

    "You''re wearing a pair of BDISSEM. handcuffs right now. The effectsts only a few minutes, but it''s enough."

    Pedro and Isolde opened their mouths as well.

    They exuded life and pressed back against Isabe, Banshee, Mozgus, and Lovebad.

    Thomas said with a sneer.

    "Don''t worry. I will report that the ship was sunk by a rampage of Night Hound and that you were wiped out because of it. You will go down as heroes, martyred in the line of duty."

    Mutiny on board.

    Isabe, Banshee, Mozgus, and Lovebad, faced with the most terrible thing that could happen on a ship, could not hide their panic.

    "Damn it. My mana really isn''t boiling."

    "...I feel like I''m wearing BDISSEM handcuffs."

    "I can onlyst so long in this state."

    "Holy shit! BDISSEM powder! What the hell is that substance?"

    A storm of confusion rages on the deck.

    "Handcuffs?"

    Vikir''s voice came from inside the cage.

    "You mean these?"

    Pedro, Isolde, and Thomas turned to see Vikir with his palms spread wide.

    At the same time.

    ...Poof!

    The smiles on the faces of Pedro, Iselde, and Thomas stopped.

    The BDISSEM handcuffs shattered before their eyes.

    Fragments of the shackles shattered and fell.

    Vikir pushed himself to his feet in front of the three men, who were too stunned to show any change in expression.

    Ujijik-

    BDISSEM The cage bends so easily, as if it were a bunch of sorghum.

    "Don''t sink the ship."

    Night Hound stepped out of the cage.

    "I must go to Nouvelle Vague."

    He looked so nonchnt.

    �C

    �C

    �C

    tl/n: BDSM (BDISSEM)

 Chapter 358: Voluntary Escort (2)

    <h4>Chapter 358: Voluntary Escort (2)</h4>

    ...ttug! pakang! kkigigigig-

    The BDISSEM restraint was shattered before their eyes.

    At the same time, the cage bends like a stick and the whole cage copses.

    Vikir unbuckled all the restraints with a look of nonchnce on his face.

    ''So this is the effect of my title in the Hell Tree? That''s fascinating.''

    Even Vikir himself hadn''t realized how easy it was to break the bindings of the BDISSEM.

    -Title: ''Daylily Lumberjack''

    Deals enormous additional damage to monsters in nt form.

    Taunt, Confuse, Blind, Bleed, Burn, Poison, and other status abnormalitiesst slightly longer.

    -New title: ''Leading Boatman''

    ? Deal massive additional damage to aquatic creatures.

    Taunt, Confuse, Blind, Bleed, Burn, Poison, and other status abnormalitiesst slightly longer.

    The untapped energy simmering within him, this was clearly the power of his title, gained within the Hell Tree.

    Although it was impossible to see now that the status window had disappeared, this power had set off a strange chain reaction that had broken Bidis M''s handcuffs.

    ''... I don''t know exactly what BDISSEM material is made of, but I have a rough idea that it can be shredded by these two titles.''

    After easily resolving the BDISSEM restraint, which was the only obstacle to his future ns, there are signs that things will be easier in the future.

    Meanwhile.

    "...!?"

    Everyone gasped as Vikir broke the handcuffs and stepped out of the cage.

    Not only Pedro, Isolde, and Thomas, but also Isabe, Banshee, Mozgus, and Lovebad were stunned.

    "Oh, my God, you broke the BDISSEM handcuffs!"

    "How is that possible?"

    "What, I don''t know, wouldn''t Professor Banshee know better?"

    "I''ve never seen anyone break a BDISSEM. restraint before. Is that how it works?"

    With no mana to spend, the only thing they can do is watch the battle between Pedro, Isolde, Thomas, and Vikir.

    It was then that Pedro, Isolde, and Thomas showed their true colors.

    "I don''t know how you managed to get out of the BDISSEM. restraints, but there''s no way you could have done it on your own."

    "On the contrary, it''s a good thing. It gives me a chance to tear you apart myself and earn my master''s approval."

    "You''ve only ever dealt with lowly contractors, haven''t you? Today you''ve met a real one."

    The three of them opened uppletely to the power the demon had given them.

    The ck blood they had kept hidden in the depths of their hearts pumped through their muscles.

    As the demon blood began to flow in the veins of their bodies, the appearance of their human skins began to change.

    ...udeudeug! ppudeudeudeug!

    Vikir had seen this before.

    Most recently, perhaps, when he encountered the demonized underdog within the Hell Tree.

    [He-aaaahhhhhhhhhhh!]

    [kkikkikkikkikkikkikkikkig!]

    [Pooh-pooh... huug!]

    Then three giant demons looked down on Vikir.

    Whoosh! Kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa-kwak!

    The mes and magical maic fields from the demons'' metamorphosis ripped through the deck.

    "...!?"

    Isabe, Banshee, Mozgus, and Lovebad quickly scrambled out of the way of the spurred storm.

    Even with their mana depleted, they used their extreme physical strength to put distance between them and the demons.

    pakang! pang!

    Isabe swung her sword to slice through the flying debris, while Banshee used his grappling skills to kick through flying ropes and barrels.

    Mozgus and Lovebad grabbed Isabe and Banshee by the cor as they flew through the storm, stopping them from falling over the railing.

    "I can''t believe they''s got this kind of momentum from just transforming..... What kind of power is that."

    "It''s bad, it''s a demon, it''s a demon!"

    "Pedro, Isolde, Thomas, I can''t believe they were demons!"

    "I can''t believe it, from earlier. Am I dreaming?"

    Isabe, Banshee, Mozgus, and Lovebad were stunned by thistest development, in which executives from as many as Seven Families were revealed to be demonic minions.

    But regardless, Pedro, Isolde, and Thomas were burning ck mes all over their bodies to kill Vikir.

    Pedro was the first, his gums and teeth protruding from his mouth.

    [Retreating is not running away, nor is it wise to wait when danger outstrips hope. The wise man knows to abstain today for tomorrow, and does not risk everything in one day.].

    "...."

    [Is this what my master told me to listen to?]

    A line spoken by Vikir before his final judgment.

    At that, Isolde and Thomas also bared their sharp teeth and snarled.

    [Upon hearing those words, my master realized that you had not yet given up, and he was rmed and dispatched us. Something was suspicious from the moment you turned yourself in].

    [Your careless tongue got the better of you, and you will die here because of it. kkilkkilkkilkkil!].

    When you be a demon, your entire body is filled with uncontroble power.

    It''s an exhrating feeling of being unstoppable.

    For a moment, they ignored Vikir''s presence.

    ...And the price was great.

    huug-

    Vikir unleashed the mana he''d been unable to tap into due to the BDISSEM bind.

    ck Sun.

    The aura of the time when Amdusias, the 5th Corpse, was brought to his knees by force, despite the fact that no one could match him 1:1, emerged like a ck sun.

    [...?]

    For a moment, the ease andughter evaporated from the faces of the minions, and then only a salty sourness set in.

    ''Something is wrong.''

    It was thest thing Isolde and Thomas could think in their right minds.

    ...A sh!

    There was no time to attack, defend, or flee.

    Vikir''s 8 enormous teeth formed into a sphere, like a ck sun, and it devastated the area around it.

    A feast of countless teeth that rose like a frightening me. In the swirl of the aura, Isolde and Thomas'' bodies were torn apart in an instant.

    Standing before them, limbs severed, neck and torso only, Vikir asked in a voice that stillcked any emotion.

    "I assume the fact that the three of you are here means that... your three masters have joined hands as well?"

    [Hic!]

    [Hic!?]

    But there were only two returning whistles.

    Puff-puff!

    Pedro. He had turned and run as soon as Vikir had sent the ck sun overhead.

    The demon sped across the surface of the water at breakneck speed.

    ''Hey, this isn''t it. I can never handle this..''

    He''d trusted his BDISSEM restraints like a rock until now.

    His foolishpanions were belligerent despite the fact that it was broken, but not Pedro.

    ...cheombeong! ...cheombeong! ...cheombeong! ...cheombeong!

    It was a blessing in disguise that he was now running on water, stomping his feet like a madman.

    Unlike the other two idiots, he thought he was going to make it home alive.

    ... But it soon became apparent that this was an illusion.

    "Toote, you should have turned around and run when you saw the handcuffs break."

    Vikir was now holding Pedro''s back without a sound.

    ''Uh, how?''

    Pedro felt a chill run down his spine.

    He''d been running on the surface of the water, spurred on by his incredible speed.

    But how had Vikir gotten here without a sound or a sign of what or where?

    Pedro turned his head, and his heart leapt to his throat in surprise.

    pang- paang- pang!

    Vikir was following him, kicking through the air, stepping on bubbles and droplets of water that popped up with each stroke.

    "It might have been a little awkward if you''d self-destructed and blown up the ship."

    [Hiig!?]

    "But it''s toote for that, you should have done that before you jumped into the water."

    Vikir sliced off Pedro''s limbs in a sh, then dug his fingers into the back of his neck.

    Like removing a bomb''s detonator, Vikir ripped out the nerve bundles inside Pedro''s neck, sending him sprawling back to the surface.

    ...Thud!

    Vikirnded on the railing with a limbless Pedro in his hand and Isolde and Thomas at his feet.

    It had all happened so fast.

    "...."

    "...."

    "...."

    "...."

    Isabe, Banshee, Mozgus, and Lovebad could only stand there with their mouths half open, unaware that their powers had returned.

    But even though they are convoys, they don''t dare to restrain Vikir again.

    The atmosphere doesn''t even call for him to be handcuffed again now.

    In the first ce, Vikir didn''t care about them at all.

    Vikir crouched down on the floor and turned to Pedro, Isolde, and Thomas.

    "Your masters will be quite sad when they find out."

    Probably three of the remaining Ten Corpses had sent them. with the n to blow up the ship by self-destructing in the middle of the ocean.

    But now that all that hase to naught, all that remains is the interrogation.

    Pedro, Isolde, and Thomas snorted as Vikir gave them a look that demanded answers.

    [Just kill me].

    [We can''t betray our master].

    [We''re not blowing anything up].

    The demons were determined.

    But Vikir only smiled weakly at the sight of it.

    For a moment, unease shes across their faces, the first time they''ve seen Vikir smile since the convoy began.

    Then, sure enough, Vikir spoke up, a hint of anticipation in his tone.

    "Yes, please don''t blow."

    The stress of the trial process had been building up quite a bit.

    He nned to blow it off before going to prison.

 Chapter 359: Voluntary Escort (3)

    <h4>Chapter 359: Voluntary Escort (3)</h4>

    [Our masters are Don Quixote Passamonte, Usher Madeline, and Hobbes Leviathan!]

    [Their real names are Cimeries! Andrealpus! urus!]

    [Well, anything! I''ll tell you anything! Please stop! What more do you want to know!?]

    Pedro, Isolde, and Thomas shouted at the top of their lungs.

    Their desperate cries sent chills down the spine of anyone who heard them, but Vikir''s face remained unmoved.

    "I don''t want to know anything. I''m just having fun."

    With his grotesquely twisted iron, Vikir slowly carved away at the bodies of Pedro, Isolde, and Thomas.

    And with each stroke, they wailed miserably.

    [Aaahhhhhh! Just kill me!]

    Vikir''s torture techniques, which could make even demons cry and beg, were an advanced artifact learned in the Age of Destruction.

    "...."

    "...."

    "...."

    "...."

    Naturally, it was far beyond the reach of any modern-day Isabe, Banshee, Mozgus, or Lovebad.

    Even Mozgus, the Inquisitor, was speechless at Vikir''s torture methods and skills.

    Soon, Vikir washed away the ck blood that had sttered on his face from the foam that crashed into the yer.

    Tsk.

    The disgusting vor of the demon''s blood washed away in the cool waters.

    ''That was good.''

    He said it, but of course he wasn''t just torturing himself to relieve stress.

    Pedro, Isolde, and Tomas are the entourage of the Ten, and naturally have a lot of information to share.

    And Vikir had gotten most of what he wanted from them through his brutal torture techniques.

    The information the demons spilled will surely prove valuable in the future.

    ...Bam!

    Vikir tossed the three mangled minions onto the deck.

    "Salt them and put them in the fishbowl. I don''t want them to die, so feed them every week or so. A few drops of human blood mixed with liquor will suffice."

    Clear orders.

    But none of the men on the deckined.

    "...."

    "...."

    "...."

    "...."

    Isabe, Banshee, Mozgus, and Lovebad were in a cold sweat.

    A prisoner destined for Nouvelle Vague had escaped, in the midst of a convoy for transfer.

    It was an event that would turn the entire Empire upside down.

    Even a demon showed up in the middle of it, so the aftermath is hard to imagine.

    Isabe, Banshee, Mozgus, and Lovebad are the main characters in this story, and their feelings are understandably mixed.

    Isabe asked in a small voice.

    "...Where are we going now?"

    Now that Night Hound has been freed from his restraints and cage, the answer is obvious.

    It would flee to a faraway ce where it could never be caught.

    ...The problem was how to get away.

    Onnd, that would be one thing, but here, on the sea, he would need a ship to get away.

    If Vikir, who is clearly the Swordmaster, is determined to take the ship, the situation bes bleak.

    No matter how much she thought about it, she was no match for the sunlike aura Vikir had disyed earlier when he subdued the three demons.

    Even if he were outnumbered, it would be pointless; everyone on board would have to risk their lives.

    ...But Vikir''s answer was unexpected.

    "That''s not a question for a convoy leader."

    "...?"

    "To prison, of course. To the Nouvelle Vague."

    With that, Vikir turned and walked nonchntly back to the cage he had just broken through and sat down.

    Isabe, Banshee, Mozgus, and Lovebad couldn''t help but gape at the sight of him.

    Isabe asked, puzzled.

    "Didn''t you mean to steal this ship and run away?"

    "Of course not, we have no intention of causing trouble for others."

    Vikir''s answer was bothmon sense and nonsensical.

    The situation was taking an unexpected turn.

    * * *

    Vikir was true to his word.

    He waited until Isabe, Banshee, Mozgus, and Lovebad''s mana was fully restored, and then he let the ship reach its destination.

    And so the ship made it through the raging storm and waves to the coordinates they had initially set out for.

    Kuoooooooo...

    Maelstr?m. A giant whirlpool, called the "navel of the sea," was gaping open.

    At the tip of the bow, you can see the color of the sea turning ck.

    This is because the water is deepening rapidly.

    ...kung!

    The ship finally stopped after setting dozens of anchors on the surrounding reefs.

    "It''s a whirlpool that only opens at midnight. This is the middle gate to Nouvelle Vague."

    Vikir nodded at Isabe''s words.

    The Nouvelle Vague, the Great Prison of the Deep, is a long way down this vortex.

    Naturally, prisoners are thrown here alone to sink.

    During the 10,000-meter descent to the depths of the Nouvelle Vague, most prisoners are crushed to death by the pressure and ustrophobia, and only a few survive to be imprisoned in the Nouvelle Vague.

    Vikir obediently stepped into the coffin attached to the tip of the boat.

    Iron Maiden.

    A human-shaped coffin embossed with the face of a gentle, smiling woman with closed eyes.

    This fearsome coffin is riddled with nails made of an orthoharcone alloy that, when the prisoner is ced inside and the lid is closed, punctures the prisoner''s body with numerous holes.

    The nails are ced to avoid the prisoner''s vital organs and are designed to maximize pain.

    The blood that fills the coffin then flows out through the cracks in the maiden''s eyes, creating the illusion that the maiden is weeping tears of blood over the prisoner''s death.

    Kugugugugukuk...

    Vikir walked into the coffin, wearing the new BDISSEM handcuffs, shackles, and chains.

    He turned to Isabe, Banshee, Mozgus, and Lovebad, who were standing outside.

    "Would you mind closing the door?"

    His calm tone was out of character and extremely out of ce.

    Isabe, Banshee, Mozgus, and Lovebad had to shudder at the chills that ran down their spines, even though they had been in charge of countless convoys.

    Then.

    Professor Banshee, the Morgue''s escort, stepped forward.

    "...Vikir-kun."

    "Something."

    Banshee flinched slightly at the nonchnt tone of Vikir''s voice.

    But then he gathered his courage and spoke up.

    "I am a professor at Colosseo Academy, and you are a student at Colosseo Academy."

    "...."

    "No matter what your current situation is, no matter what your identity is, you are my student."

    Banshee took a deep breath.

    He took a deep breath and spoke in the same snarky, stubborn tone he hade to expect from the Colosseo Academy.

    "I speak not as an escort, not as an official, but as your teacher."

    The words that came out of the Banshee''s mouth surprised everyone. Even Vikir.

    "Run away."

    Isabe, Mozgus, and Lovebad look back at Banshee in surprise.

    But Banshee''s demeanor didn''t change.

    "Honestly, I''m still not good at judging good and evil. I''m not sure what the demon or the Hell Tree is. I never imagined that I would experience such confusion at an age when everything is slowly bing clear, but... Still, I always saw you during my time at the Academy. You are not a viin. That much is certain."

    "...."

    "The Nouvelle Vague is a living hell. Those who enter never return, and I cannot send a good and brave young man to such a ce."

    At that moment, someone stepped forward, ring at Banshee.

    It was Mozgus, a member of the Quovadis family convoy.

    "I, too, have heard the whole story from St. Dolores."

    "...."

    "To be honest, I didn''t fully believe her when she told me that you were a demon hunter. As a cleric, I couldn''t believe that so many demons were integrated into the human world. But now that I''ve seen the realities of the demons that have slipped right under my nose, I see it all clearly. You must live, and I don''t know why I''ve only realized this now!"

    Mozgus mmed his fist down on his head in self-pity.

    Beside him, Lovebad, a member of the Bourgeois family convoy, stepped forward.

    "Do you remember my second cousin? Merlini Lovegood? She fell in love with you in the University Leagues, and now she''s stoping to eat and drink after learning that you''re Night Hound and are to be imprisoned in Nouvelle Vague."

    "...."

    "As soon as I return, I will show the demons as evidence and request a retrial. So please run away from here. And although it may be difficult while on the run, I would really appreciate it if you could meet my brother secretly. I will take responsibility and erase your tracks. If it''s money, don''t worry."

    Banshee of Morg, Mozgus of Quovdis, and Lovebad of Bourgeois have made their shocking derations of defection.

    All that remained was Isabe of Baskerville.

    "...."

    After a moment of silence, she looked up.

    The dreary gaze was spreading red in the air.

    "...Truth be told. I''ve been assigned one other task in addition to the Imperial convoy."

    Isabe''s next words were a surprise.

    "The orders came from the Baskervilles in great secrecy. To kill everyone on the convoy and break you out."

    At that, Banshee, Mozgus, and Lovebad swallowed hard.

    They had wondered why a magnate of the Seven Counts'' rank had bothered toe to them, especially one who had retired from the Imperial Prison Service, but now they knew.

    Isabe even had a dozen of the Doberman Knights'' core strength disguised as lowly sailors waiting in the dock.

    "I have instructions from my lord to break you out, Vikir, even if it means sinking the ship."

    In other words, the Baskervilles were going to keep Vikir, even if it meant turning the other six families of the empire and the imperial family against them.

    Banshee, Mozgus, and Lovebad muttered in disbelief.

    "I almost got killed by ident."

    "For some reason, there was a reason I wasn''t too embarrassed by the appearance of the demons."

    "Damn, it''s Baskerville again, those crazy people."

    Vikir said, sounding surprised as well.

    "Didn''t you tell me before that it would be better tomit suicide?"

    "That was in the public eye. You''re not really a great person tomit suicide in the first ce."

    Everyone, including Isabe, was urging Vikir to run away.

    The gale had driven all the sailors back to the dock.

    The minions are all salted and locked in the hold, so the only ones who can see thest of Vikir are the four escorts here.

    If all four of them are correct in their testimony, Vikir will be able to return to the surface without being trapped in Nouvelle Vague.

    But.

    "I refuse."

    Vikir dismissed the invitation to run away so casually, so matter-of-factly.

    Banshee asked in disbelief.

    "Do you not know what the Nouvelle Vague is like? To be trapped there is worse than death!"

    Isabe, Mozgus, and Lovebad shake their heads in disbelief.

    But Vikir''s voice was still unmoved.

    "I could have done anything to escape. What do you think I was tried for?"

    Nouvelle Vague. And Vikir, who silently epted more than 3,000 life sentences.

    He smiles dryly at his escort, who seem unable toprehend the situation.

    "I am a person who has been waiting to go to Nouvelle Vague for the past 19 years."

 Chapter 360: Voluntary Escort (4)

    <h4>Chapter 360: Voluntary Escort (4)</h4>

    ''Nouvelle Vague? Don''t even talk about it. It''s a living hell. It''s a ce I never want to go back to.''

    ''We were lucky to get out of there alive.''

    ''... I never thought that monstrous old man would free us with his own hands.''

    Vikir remembered a time before his regression.

    During the war against the demons, Vikir had manyrades in arms who were prisoners.

    The Demon War had united all of humanity.

    Once categorized as human, criminal records didn''t matter.

    Everyone was on the same side, everyone was arade-in-arms.

    Living and dying with the prisoners of Nouvelle Vague, Vikir had seen and heard many things.

    In many ways, he was able to experience firsthand the horrific prison culture.

    Just as a man who has been in the army can tell you endless stories about his time in the army, the prisoners at Nouvelle Vague would tell each other detailed, long, and lengthy stories about their time in prison, and Vikir never once found it boring.

    ''...So I know it well. What Nouvelle Vague is like.''

    Vikir stepped into the coffin.

    As the lid closed, the nails in the coffin pierced Vikir''s body without warning.

    But his flesh, hardened by the protection of the Styx River, his physical resistance stats from the Hell Tree, and his aurabined.

    Thud!

    The nails in the coffin were unable to pierce Vikir''s skin and bent.

    In the midst of it all, Vikir spoke through the upperyers of the coffin, through the eye and mouth openings of the Iron Maiden.

    "Push."

    A firm voice. No wavering.

    Eventually, the coffin containing Vikir tilted toward the sea.

    All the holes in the coffin were sealed with special wax, and a heavy additional weight was hung at the bottom.

    Now the coffin would ride in the middle of the whirlpool and sink at a rapid pace.

    Towards the bottom of the deep ocean, the deepest ocean below.

    "...."

    Isabe slipped her longsword onto the chain at the bow that connected to the coffin.

    Her mission was essentially to get Vikir away, even if it meant killing everyone on board.

    But what can she do, when the one she''s supposed to get away from wants to go to Nouvelle Vague so badly?

    Even Vikir seemed to have something else in mind.

    Whatever it is, it''s something in a higher realm that even she, Seven Counts, can''t fathom.

    Isabe, meanwhile, was quite surprised by the situation.

    In all her years of sending many prisoners to Nouvelle Vague, it had never urred to her that she would ever see them again.

    ... But now it was different.

    Vikir seemed to realize that one day they would surely meet again.

    ''It''s a strange thing. For someone going to the Nouvelle Vague to have such thoughts.''

    Isabe let out a light sigh.

    And soon, her ck sword radiated anticipation.

    Fit-

    A drop of liquid aura, sticky as honey, descended, cutting cleanly through the coffin and the chains attached to the ship''s bow.

    ...with a plop!

    The coffin sank heavily beneath the water.

    The white foam that rose to the surface of the ck waters was thest reminder of Vikir''s presence in this world.

    Even that was soon swept away by the raging torrent.

    The ship reeled in its anchor line and began to gradually move away from Malstr?m''s sphere of influence.

    By midnight, the whirlpools had subsided and the currents were rapidly bing milder.

    Whirring.

    The sound of sails pping in the sea breeze is loud.

    Each of the four surviving convoy officers maintained a heavy silence.

    Finally, Lovebad of the Bourgeois was the first to speak.

    "...Ha, I don''t know what to tell my youngest sister. To the kid who was already sick from lovesickness."

    "I agree, our youngdy will have an uproar."

    "I can''t imagine how bitterly she''ll feel...."

    "I''m going to go back and be devastated by the patriarch."

    Banshee of Morg, Mozgus of Quovadis, and Isabe of Baskerville also put their hands to their foreheads.

    In the end, it was Banshee who faced reality first.

    "For now, let''s get back to the ship as soon as we can, and put those minions in the hold on trial, and shed some light on the mutiny on board."

    "We should also demand a retrial for Vikir-kun."

    Isabe nodded at Mozgus''s words.

    "That''s not all. We need to investigate the testimony of Don Quixote La Mancha Passamonte, Usher Poe Madeline, and Hobbes De Leviathan."

    "They''re all powerful men, and if we get it wrong, we''ll have a huge feud between the Seven Great Families...."

    Lovebad''s fears were confirmed.

    Vikir was on his way to Nouvelle Vague.

    Instead of just leaving, he nted a huge blue seed and left it behind.

    It was so ominous and dangerous that it could shake the very foundations of the empire.

    * * *

    Meanwhile.

    Vikir was in a coffin, sinking to the center of a long, vertical vortex.

    Even though he is innocent and a retrial is nothing to worry about in the first ce.

    All that mattered now was getting down to Nouvelle Vague safely.

    Purrrrr...

    The water bubbles and the vision grows darker.

    He could feel the water leaking through the narrow toe space, which was getting slightly damp.

    The coffin was caught in a swirling wave, bobbing violently, then settling down.

    Its weight made it sink faster.

    After a while, a strange sound came from the lid of the coffin.

    udeudeug-

    The coffin is sinking rapidly, and the water pressure around it is getting higher and higher.

    The coffin, made of an orthoharcon alloy, began to crack.

    It will eventually crumple until it fits perfectly around Vikir''s entire body.

    Most prisoners would not survive this process and would eithermit suicide or go insane from the ustrophobia.

    "...."

    However, Vikir endures this time in silence, keeping his mouth shut.

    Crunch-clunk-ck-ck!

    The Iron Maiden strongly embraces Vikir.

    Aside from the pressure crushing his entire body, theck of oxygen was a problem.

    Then.

    Sssssssss...

    Oxygen flows from somewhere.

    It was bubbling outward through a faint crack in his toes.

    ''Is this the power of these cuffs?''

    Vikir lowered his gaze to the bindings that wrapped around his wrists, ankles, and the rest of his body.

    The mysterious material was emitting a faint puff of oxygen, helping Vikir breathe.

    ''Absorbs mana, enforces physical force, and even emits oxygen? It''s a strange substance.''

    Vikir recalled stories he''d heard from his formerrades-in-arms before he''d regressed that, while the BDISSEM cuffs inhibited movement, they were an essential survival tool in the deep.

    Crack! Puddeuddeuk!

    The distortion of the coffin was getting worse and worse.

    The depths of the ocean are now so deep that there is not even the slightest bit of light, and the world is pitch ck.

    An infinite void of nothingness.

    A space that is both empty and full.

    Being ced in a coffin and thrown into the depths of the ocean was no different than being buried alive in the depths of the earth.

    An iron maiden guiding the way to death.

    The journey to survive more than three thousand life sentences is a long and arduous one.

    But Vikir endured it all.

    The giant metal tubes that cling to his body like an ufortable garment, the endless sinking into the darkness of the lightless void, the giant, nameless monsters of the deep that prowl around him.

    The only thing that helps is Decarabia embedded in his chest.

    [Human. Are you okay?]

    "It''s worth holding on to."

    [An impossiblyrge creature just passed in front of us, and it had a lot of legs].

    "Is it as good as Shadowless King of the ck Sea?"

    [That''s right. Hehehe... You still have a lot of free time, right?]

    "You shouldn''t talk about dying like this, you''ve got a lot of work ahead of you."

    Upon hearing Vikir''s words, Dekarabia pouted, as if in good faith.

    [Very well, human, then let me show you one of my many abilities, perhaps the one you need most at this point].

    After speaking, Decarabia emitted a strange light from its only eye.

    "...!"

    Vikir was a little surprised.

    As the Decarabia glowed, a vision of the outside of the coffin began to form in his head.

    "Vision sharing. That''s good."

    [Is it worth using? Hmph- maybe it''s because it''s the sea, isn''t it a bit salty for apliment you receive in return for finding the light?].

    Decarabia grumbled in dissatisfaction, but Vikir shrugged it off.

    Eventually, Vikir''s vision began to take in thendscape below the sinking coffin.

    It looked like a forest.

    A jungle. A giant forest.

    A vast expanse of seaweed, each stalk as massive as the pirs of a mythical temple.

    expanse

    over an enormous area.

    Colonies of seaweed.

    Standing tall and flowing

    The seaweed seems to have been forgotten

    Giant soldiers of ancient civilization

    Stand upright and stand guard

    It seems like it exists.

    The coffin containing Vikir

    In the center of this seaweed forest,

    To the top of the highest cliff

    It was sinking.

    kkuleuleuleug...

    An awl-sharp cliff rose above the ckened forest of giant aquatic nts, and at the end of it stood a structure that emitted a dim light like antern.

    An old castle with an old and gloomy atmosphere, built in a very ancient style, made ofrge bricks piled tightly on top of an extinct volcano in the deep sea.

    Nouvelle Vague!

    The world''s worst prison

    awaited Vikir.

 Chapter 361: Ghost Castle of the Ultra-Deep Sea (1)

    <h4>Chapter 361: Ghost Castle of the Ultra-Deep Sea (1)</h4>

    It is the coldest, hottest, roughest, foulest, and harshest ce in the world.

    God cut it off from the rest of the world, separating it from the sunlight forever.

    It is a hell that no one can imagine.

    No words or illustrations can fully convey the horrors of Nouvelle Vague, and its unique and grotesque atmosphere can only be felt by breathing its air.

    People of the world, please do not sin. If you have alreadymitted it, find a way to repent as soon as possible.

    For Nouvelle Vague, the Great Prison of the Deep, awaits you at the bottom of the abyss of unknown depths with its mouth open!

    * * *

    At the bottom of a deep, deep trench in the ultra-deep sea.

    A castle rises high above a thick forest of ck seaweed.

    A yellowish-blue light glows eerily like the luminescence of a deep-sea fish on the peak of an extinct volcano.

    It was the very nature of the Nouvelle Vague, a dpidated old castle made of giant cube-shaped bricks stacked on top of each other.

    ...teoeong! kung!

    The coffin containing Vikir was dropped onto the very top of the main castle, onto a huge circr iron gate.

    A ghost castle of the Ultra Deep Sea, Its interior is dug deep into the social mountain.

    Vikir surveyed thendscape outside through the eyes of Decarabia.

    ''...This is the Gate of Good and Evil.''

    The huge circr iron gate was tens of meters in diameter.

    The material seemed to be an alloy of adamantium and orthoharcon, like the vaults of the Bourgeois he had seen before, and he dared not imagine its thickness and weight.

    White on the left, ck on the right. There is only one meaning to this antithetical cement of colors.

    ''The Gate of Good and Evil''. The final boundary between good and evil.

    It was the main gate and symbol of the Nouvelle Vague.

    And now.

    rl-gigigigigi!

    The door slowly began to rotate 180 degrees.

    Like the lid of a manhole, the open door slowly flipped up and down, sucking the coffin containing Vikir into the castle''s interior along with the seawater.

    Beneath the gates of good and evil, an unidentifiable sticky, mucousy membrane could be seen, which appeared to be blocking the influx of seawater.

    The windows throughout the castle were also covered with the same clear slime.

    kwakwang! ...cheolsseog!

    The coffin containing Vikir fell to the hard ground with a heavy ssh.

    By this time, the coffin had been molded to Vikir''s size like a suit of iron.

    Next, Vikir felt sinister hands twist the lid open.

    "....We have arrived."

    Vikir stuck his head out as soon as the coffin lid opened.

    The interior of the Nouvelle Vague''s true nature came into view.

    The floors, walls, and ceiling are pitch-ck. The atmosphere was cold, dank, and dreary, as befits a castle built in the depths of the sea.

    Guards in ck uniforms peeked out from under the brims of their hats.

    "... ''Night Hound''. Is this thest resident?"

    He heard the burly guard in front of him mutter.

    He had arge burn scar on his face and a namete on his chest that read ''Garm Nord''.

    His rank appeared to be Lieutenant, judging by the single diamond on his shoulder epaulettes.

    ''Lieutenant Garm Nord'', he said, looking down at Vikir.

    "The entrance ceremony will be held shortly. Make sure you''re ready when it does."

    At those words, Vikir looked up.

    Sure enough, there were several more prisoners gathered in the waiting room in front of him.

    They were all dressed in ck and white striped prison uniforms, with BDISSEM shackles on their wrists and ankles.

    Then, in front of Vikir and the others who had changed into their uniforms, Lieutenant Garm spoke.

    "I''m going to give you all a brief introduction to the system here, as I''m sure you already know."

    Nouvelle Vague looks like a castle atop an extinct volcano, but its interior is actually much more expansive.

    A huge, vertical underground chamber carved out of the base of the volcano.

    "It''s divided into nine parts."

    Lieutenant Garm prefaced his exnation with a simple drawing.

    The 1st floor. Aka ''Level 1''.

    This is where the guards live and where all events, except executions, are held, such as entrance ceremonies and promotions.

    It is also a space where criminals with the lowest sentences, those with sentences of three years or less, are imprisoned.

    The 2nd floor. Aka ''Level 2''.

    This is where prisoners with sentences of 5 years or less are held.

    One year in Nouvelle Vague is equivalent to 10 years in any other prison on earth, so in a normal prison, prisoners who would have been sentenced to at least 30 years and no more than 50 years in prison would be held here.

    The 3rd floor. Aka "Level 3".

    This is where criminals with a sentence of 10 years or less are held.

    In a normal prison on the ground, this is where felons would be sentenced to 100 years in prison.

    The 4th floor. Aka ''Level 4''.

    This is where criminals with sentences of 15 years or less are held.

    You won''t find anymon criminals on this level.

    War criminals and other heinous criminals involved in at least city-scale terrorism and genocide are locked up here.

    The 5th floor. Aka ''Level 5''.

    Criminals with sentences of 20 years or less are held here.

    This is where those who have caused great damage to the country through state terrorism, civil unrest, or conspiracy are held.

    It is also a ce where the quarters of high-ranking officials at the guard level are located, and several special facilities such as a ''breeding house'' and an ''execution house'' are also located there.

    The 6th floor. Aka ''Level 6''.

    This is where criminals sentenced to life imprisonment in Nouvelle Vague are held.

    The purpose of this level is to keep dangerous people who could overthrow the state away from the world forever, and prisoners here are treated more like monsters than human beings.

    The 7th floor. Aka ''Level 7''.

    Even the same life sentence is divided into grades and weights.

    Under Imperialw, a judge may impose multiple life sentences if it is deemed that a mere sentence of life imprisonment is not enough to absolve the offense, and this level contains prisoners who have served at least 100 life sentences.

    The 8th floor. Aka ''Level 8''.

    Prisoners with 1,000 or fewer life sentences are held here.

    The 9th floor. Aka ''Level 9''.

    ....

    Lieutenant Garm finished his exnation, tapping the picture with the three-stage baton he wore around his waist.

    The prisoners about to be admitted giggled and murmured among themselves.

    "I was sentenced to eight years in this ce, this is awful."

    "Shit, I got a 13-year sentence, this means that if you live on earth, you will have to rot in bread for 130 years! I''d rather serve my sentence here short and sweet."

    "Tsk tsk tsk... I''m a life sentence. Fuck, you want me to live in this shitty ce for the rest of my life?"

    "They are young chicks, you do realize that life imprisonment has a count, right? I''ve served three life sentences."

    The prisoners were engaged in a nerve-wracking battle, matching each other''s strength and brutality.

    One in particr drew all the attention.

    He was huge, with ck spots covering his body, and facial features like a demon.

    There was no one among them who did not know him.

    ''Sakkuth De Leviathan''. His earthly nickname was ''gue Leper''.

    An extremely evil criminal who was expelled from the Leviathan family for his outrageous human experimentation, the bounty on his head once reaching 11 figures.

    He grinned, baring sharp teeth.

    "Have you ever heard of a gue called the Red Death, child? It was created by this very body."

    Recognized as a danger by the Empire, Sakkuth was sentenced to life imprisonment, 666 times over, and imprisoned here in Nouvelle Vague.

    He now resides on Level 1 to wait for the news of admission, but he is not the person who was originally supposed to be here.

    When he opens his mouth to speak, the mouths of the prisoners around him shut in unison.

    As if enjoying the heavy silence, Sakkuth continued.

    "We evenpleted clinical trials on the indigenous people of the jungle. Out of nowhere, Quovadis intervened and messed things up. ugh... It''s a shame. It was an opportunity to see the pandemic, an infectious disease spreading at an all-time high. Uhuk-uhuk-uhuk."

    Clean. There was one more unique thing about him besides his appearance and biography.

    He''de in as a self-dered prisoner.

    "Grrrr! I came here of my own volition to meet ''Him'', So, we are on a different level from minnows like you who were forcibly brought in."

    Sakkuth was ignoring not only the prisoners who were to share in the ceremony, but even the guards.

    However, the momentum he was giving off was so vicious that not one of the guards came forward.

    They kept their distance for fear of the gue he might carry.

    Meanwhile.

    Lieutenant Garm was briefly exining the procedures for the uing entrance ceremony.

    "There will be a total of three steps in the process. First, an inspection of belongings. Second, a medical examination. Third, bathing."

    The prisoners looked surprised.

    "We don''t need to be searched or have our weapons removed, do we? We can''t bring them here in the first ce."

    "They''re going to do a physical and then a health check? That''s like a medical service, not a prison welfare center."

    "They also disinfect and bathe you! Haha, the Nouvelle Vague is morefortable than I thought."

    "Ugh, I can''t wait to get cleaned up, the saltiness of the sea water made me sticky all the way here!"

    Contrary to the rumors, the Nouvelle Vague was quitefortable.

    The prisoners seemed to be rxing into the idea that the news that would soon follow would be no big deal.

    ... but.

    ''It''s begun.''

    Vikir knew.

    The entrance ceremony mentioned here does not really mean simply the entrance ceremony.

    And how terrifying this series of events, wrapped up in ordinary words like ''belongings check'', ''medical examination'', and ''bathing'', was.

 Chapter 362: Ghost Castle of the Ultra-Deep Sea (2)

    <h4>Chapter 362: Ghost Castle of the Ultra-Deep Sea (2)</h4>

    #1st entrance ceremony: <Belongings inspection>

    The induction ceremony consists of three procedures.

    Until it started, the prisoners didn''t realize the seriousness of the situation.

    The belongings inspection was a matter of course, and the second and third health checks and baths were unexpected luxuries.

    As a result, the prisoners were generally happy.

    "What kind of an idiot would bring a weapon into a ce like this?"

    "I''m not hiding anything, so I''ll be fine."

    "Oh, I just want to take a bath."

    But Vikir didn''t believe a word of what was written in the protocol.

    ''For those who were dragged to the Nouvelle Vague, they are naive.''

    The prisoners do not lose their smiles even as they are dragged away tied up in rows next to them. How long can their expressions be maintained?

    Soon, the prisoners, including Vikir, were led by the guards out into the open square.

    Only then did their faces change.

    "...?"

    "What, you said you were going to check our belongings?"

    "Then why are you taking us to this cliff...?"

    The scene in front of them was quite a sight.

    Sheer cliffs. And then, far off in the distance, almost a dot, another cliff.

    And sharply sharpened des were connected between cliffs.

    ...And there was more.

    On top of the giant de bridge connecting cliff to cliff, giant iron balls that could have been used for demolition in a construction site were swinging from side to side like clockwork.

    "What the hell is this? You don''t want me to cross this, do you?"

    "We''re on a ridge!"

    "What are those iron balls!"

    The prisoners'' faces turned white at the horrific sight before them.

    ''I see.''

    Vikir nodded.

    The Nouvelle Vague''s word of mouth is no ordinary thing.

    It would be disguised in everyday words, but the reality would be horrific and brutal.

    ... just like right now.

    Sereung-

    Finally, the guards showed their true colors.

    They stabbed the prisoners in the back with knives, clubs, spears, and tridents.

    They were going to kill them if they didn''t get on the de bridge.

    In the end, the prisoners cried and put their feet on the de.

    They had to walk barefoot over hundreds of meters of des.

    If they lost their bnce for even a moment, they would fall to the bottom of an unknown cliff.

    One of the prisoners shakily asked.

    "What happens if I fall off that cliff?"

    "...I''ll leave it to your imagination."

    Lieutenant Garm, who was leading the prisoners, replied in a bureaucratic tone.

    Next, the prisoners stood in a line and began to walk on the sharp de.

    The razor-sharp des dug into their bare feet with each step.

    Each cut would be deeper and deeper under the weight of their bodies.

    The cold de cut and cut at the soles of the prisoners'' feet.

    "Kkeuaaaagh!"

    The prisoner, who was spewing out blood and falling to his knees, fell straight in front of the de and his entire body was broken into pieces.

    hududug- hududug- hududug-

    Red blood and flesh rained down.

    Seeing the prisoner in front of them fall to his death in an instant, the other prisoners became even more nervous and stood on their toes.

    They strained their big and little toes, holding on to the de with their toes and walking slowly.

    That was how the prisoners were able to move.

    ..., but it was really just a way to get around.

    buung-

    A giant iron ball passed in front of the prisoner''s eyes.

    The balls traveled across the bridge in sections, each with a tremendous amount of weight and speed.

    If you were hit even once, your entire body would be crushed like fish meat and you would be thrown off the cliff.

    "Haha- idiots, there''s no way we''re going to get hit by these balls!"

    A prisoner was crawling like a cockroach, holding onto the de with both hands and feet.

    His hands and feet were already covered in blood, but he was still crawling quite steadily on his legs.

    The giant iron ball was passing over his head, so he was in no danger.

    ...At first nce, that was the case.

    But there was something the prisoner didn''t realize, and that was the ball''s material.

    buung-

    The iron ball flew by and then came back.

    As it approached, the prisoner ducked his head.

    The idea was to let it pass safely over his head.

    But.

    "...huh?"

    The prisoner suddenly felt his right hand fly up of its own ord.

    snap!

    His right hand was suddenly snatched out of thin air and caught on the swinging iron ball.

    "Hii!? Ma!"

    That''s right. Each of the iron balls passing over the de bridge had a powerful maic force.

    The prisoner, whose fingers were embedded with iron cores, felt his right hand being held in ce by a powerful ma.

    And then.

    ...ppuug! udeudeug!

    The prisoner saw the iron core in his finger tear through the flesh, pull out, and attach itself to the iron ball.

    "Aaaah!"

    The prisoner screamed as his fingers were ripped from his body and he lost his bnce.

    The toes and fingers that had been gripping the de''s legs gave way, and he fell backwards onto the de, splitting his body vertically and sending him falling down the cliff.

    Simr things were happening one after another on the de bridge.

    The swinging iron ball sucked everything in.

    Poof!

    A prisoner with a file knife hidden in his anus was torn apart in a horrific mauling.

    Another prisoner, with shards of the de embedded in old wounds, fell to the ground beneath the de''s bridge, grievously wounded.

    The same was generally true of those who wore prosthetic arms or legs.

    There were also quite a few prisoners who had fallen off the cliff in agony as the iron ball, with its powerful maic force, snapped like a rope with each swing.

    Those who hadn''t yet made it onto the bridge could only shudder in terror.

    "What the hell, what is this, what is the word of mouth, this is just a dog''s death, isn''t it a de facto execution?"

    Lieutenant Garm next to him shook his head.

    "No, it''s not. There''s a ''Nouvelle Vague'' execution, and it''s a lot worse than this, and there''s a prisoner over there who''s doing just fine."

    "...what?"

    At those words, all the prisoners turned their heads.

    The de bridge, precarious, and the maic iron balls running over it.

    In the middle of it all, there was a man walking casually.

    It was Vikir.

    ''It''s a good thing Beelzebub and Decarabia didn''t get caught in the mas.''

    Vikir was simply walking barefoot on the ridge.

    His calluses, hardened by years of training, could push back a de of this size without the need for mana.

    It wasn''t too difficult to make it to the other cliff, as long as he kept out of the way of the asional iron ball.

    "...What''s that monster?"

    "Yay! I''m going too!"

    "Even a little kid like that is going, so you can''t be scared!"

    The other prisoners were also encouraged by Vikir''s propaganda and started to ride the small bridge.

    #2nd entrance ceremony: <Medical Examination>

    After the first round of checking their belongings, the number of candidates had decreased.

    However, they were not wiped out as they had traveled to the deep sea.

    However, there were quite a few people whose bodies were covered in bruises and blood.

    "Okay, next up is the medical examination."

    Lieutenant Garm opened his mouth, but none of the prisoners now believed him.

    And sure enough, the prisoners were trapped likeb mice in a narrow valley.

    "What the hell are we supposed to do here?"

    "Huh? Uh-huh! Up there! Up there!"

    "Something''s falling!"

    One by one, the prisoners looked up.

    One by one, they looked up and saw something like ck snow falling down.

    Up close, they were spheres that looked like rubber balls, a little smaller than an adult fist and bouncy to the touch.

    As soon as they hit the ground, they revealed themselves.

    The rounded body stretched out to reveal an elongated oval shape.

    The all-ck body twitched, and sharp, nail-like teeth protruded from what appeared to be a head.

    "Ew!? Leeches!"

    Screams erupted from the prisoners.

    Countless leeches were raining down on the prisoners'' heads.

    These tiny little vampires were clinging to the prisoners'' bodies, sucking out whatever they could, and it didn''t look like they were just drawing blood.

    "Huh? This isn''t blood...."

    "It''s bones, it''s bones!"

    "They suck skin, these bastards!"

    Screams of horror erupted from among the prisoners.

    What the leeches sucked varied.

    Some leeches sucked blood, as they were supposed to, some sucked bones, and some sucked skin.

    As the prisonersnguished in the leech swamp, the guards scribbled on charts.

    "Number 12, bone density normal..."

    "Number 36, low blood volume, we''re going to have to speed this up."

    "No. 43, skin condition good, no impairment to work."

    "Report to Lieutenant Colonel ''ck Tongue''."

    Health checks are what leeches are made of.

    The fact that leeches are aggressively attacking means that there is no major problem with the prey''s body.

    Just like that.

    swiiiiig-

    The leeches clinging to one of the prisoners suddenly became paralyzed and started screaming in pain.

    "kkeuleug! kkeuleug! kkeuleug!""

    Sakkuth De Leviathan.

    A wicked man whom even the poisonous Leviathan had banished for having a mental problem.

    The leeches that clung to his body, sucking blood, bone, and skin, stiffened and fell away.

    Perhaps the blood or marrow contained poison.

    ''...That''s a lot of trouble.''

    Vikir thought to himself as he stood quietly by the leeches, giving them what they had to give, and watched Sakkuthugh nonchntly in the distance.

    ''It''s a good thing he''s a troublemaker.''

    If Vikir was careful, he might be able to use Sakkuth to his advantage.

    #3rd entrance ceremony: <Bath>

    The prisoners, who had crawled out of the leeches'' swamp,y exhausted on the floor.

    Their bone density, muscle density, and blood reserves had decreased, and they were hanging on for dear life.

    ...The only thing left to do is to take a bath.

    But none of the men had the look of anticipation on their faces.

    The survivors were dragged into an empty, circr za, where they found something unpleasant.

    It was a mass of skeletons.

    The skeletal remains of human beings were rolling around, and upon closer inspection, there were many strange features.

    "Are those little holes in the bones caved in?"

    "Burned or melted."

    "What the hell... are they going to do again."

    The prisoners looked around anxiously.

    And then, once again, a terrible surprise struck them.

    chwaaaaaag-

    Boiling, yellowish groundwater burst from the ceiling.

    The acrid smell seemed to contain a lot of sulfur.

    "Kyaaghh!"

    The prisoners scrambled to avoid the sulfur raining down from above.

    But the bubbling sulfur soaked everywhere, fairly evenly.

    Pushishishisik-

    With tiny holes piercing all over his body, the prisoner finally copsed to the ground.

    The prisoners, who had been lying around a moment before, quickly rush over and crawl under the dead man''s body.

    This was to avoid a shower of sulfur.

    "Hey, give me my umbre!"

    "Shut up! He''s been my friend since we were on earth!"

    "Give it to me! It''s mine!"

    The prisoners fiercely argued with each other, tearing at the dead prisoner''s body.

    In the meantime, the dead prisoner''s body was torn apart and turned into countless umbres.

    Finally, the hours-long shower of sulfurous water ended.

    Through the thick cloud of stale steam, gas masked guards entered the room.

    Lieutenant Garm Nord looked around and nodded.

    "All prisoners are disinfected, we will proceed with floor assignments now."

 Chapter 363: Ghost Castle of the Ultra-Deep Sea (3)

    <h4>Chapter 363: Ghost Castle of the Ultra-Deep Sea (3)</h4>

    The entrance ceremony was over.

    The bodies of the dead prisoners were tossed off the cliffs into the crater like garbage.

    No one cared about the fate of the prisoners, who would still be reported as ''alive and imprisoned'' in the terrestrial registers because they had not been officially ''executed''.

    They would remain trapped in this prison on paper forever, even after death.

    On the other hand, the prisoners who survived the ceremony received their floor and room assignments.

    Vikir, who had not onlye here with more than three thousand life sentences, but had also shown a nonchnt attitude during the inspection of his belongings, medical examination, and bath, was naturally assigned to Level Nine, the ninth floor.

    ... ng!

    Vikir was locked in a cramped room. Level Nine was basically a solitary confinement system.

    The atmosphere in the room was surprisingly in.

    Arge ck brick stone chamber. The entire stone chamber was lined with bars made of BDISSEM, a substance that absorbs mana and physical power.

    "This is why you can''t even dig through the bricks with a spoon."

    Not only were the bars closely spaced, but they covered the ceiling, walls, and floor, making escape impossible.

    There was no point in digging a hole to get out through the walls or the floor, as they were 10,000 meters below the ocean floor.

    Tsk, tsk, tsk.

    Cold droplets of water dripped from the bricks.

    The water was extremely salty and concentrated.

    Indeed, an enormous amount of moisture sticks to the entire body.

    A dark, cold, dank aura filled not only the cell, but the entire hallway.

    The interior of the stone chamber was bare.

    Not even the usual bedding or bowls, just an empty cube of space.

    But Vikir''s assessment was pretty harsh.

    "Not a bad ce to live."

    After rolling across so many bloody battlefields against demons, it''s a nice change of pace.

    Vikir muttered to himself.

    ...Kung!

    The heavy iron gate beyond rang loudly once.

    kkigigigigigig-

    A door so heavy that it took over a hundred guards to open it.

    It opened and the prisoners who had originally been held here were seen entering.

    Presumably on their way back from forcedbor outside.

    "heoeog! keuheoeog! kkeuleuleug-"

    "Ughhh...."

    "kkeueug- kkeueueueug-"

    The condition of the prisoners returning from their forcedbor in the workshops was terrible.

    Vikir recalled the information he already knew.

    All of Nouvelle Vague''s prisoners, from level one to level nine, were required to go to the workshop every day at dawn to performbor.

    Thebor is to dig down into the interior of the volcano where Nouvelle Vague is located.

    It''s an expansion project to increase the interior space of Nouvelle Vague.

    It''s an extinct volcano, but it''s still a volcano, and the enormous amount of geothermal heat inside doesn''t dissipate over time.

    So the prisoners dig and dig and keep digging, boiling, burning, drying up, day after day.

    "The new prisoners are put to work tomorrow, too."

    A voice came from the side of the cage where Vikir was standing.

    The guard he had seen earlier, Lieutenant Garm, was now standing beside him.

    He walked up beside a procession of prisoners groaning from burns and exhaustion.

    "You will wake up at 4 a.m. and work nonstop until 1 p.m. You will have 10 minutes for lunch, after which you will work again until midnight. After that, you will return to your room and have an hour of prayer and repentance before going to bed at 1am."

    That''s three hours of sleep a night, one meal a day, and that meal had to be consumed in less than 10 minutes, and it had to be something crappy like ck bread or a piece of jerky.

    Not to mention the grueling, high-intensity vebor that continued day after day.

    Garm''s voice echoed upward due to the Nouvelle Vague''s vertical panopticon structure.

    Vikir could hear the sound of Garm''s voice and the wavelengths it created, and he could sense the overall structure of the Nouvelle Vague.

    ''...Arge cylindrical structure. Prisoners'' cells are arranged in a circle around the walls, with a workshop in the center of the bottom nine levels.''

    The stronger prisoners, closer to level 9, seemed to be working in the central depths of the bottom nine levels, breaking rocks and digging down into the ground, while the weaker prisoners, closer to level 1, were working in the distance, blowing mounds of dirt and rocks and dumping them outside.

    The prisoners in the middle were divided into work areas ording to the level of the floor they were imprisoned on, and worked to move piles of rocks and dirt.

    This means that if you''re closer to level 9, you''re working in the deepest, hottest, and most dangerous part of the worksite, and if you''re closer to level 1, you''re working in the shallower, less hot, and safer part.

    This may soundplicated, but it was very easy and simple to illustrate.

    Lieutenant Garm said.

    "You are currently engaged in the gloriousbor of expanding the great Nouvelle Vague. Do it with pride, and do it well."

    Expanding the Nouvelle Vague.

    To be more specific, they were currently creating an area deeper than the 9th floor underground called ''Level 9''.

    Aka "Level 10," a massive undertaking to create a 10th underground floor.

    Since they''re digging down to the 10th floor, it makes sense that the workshop is on the 9th floor.

    "The new section, Level 10, will house criminals who cannot be housed on Level 9. It would be wise for you, the prisoners, to cooperate if you care about your own safety."

    Garm had a point.

    Every once in a while, Nouvelle Vague would have a rampage of criminals it couldn''t handle, and it was always the prisoners who were the first and most likely to die.

    So from the prisoners'' point of view, the weaker they were, the harder they worked on the construction, and the sooner the more dangerous ones were sent down below, the better off they would be in the long run.

    Vikir nodded in agreement.

    ''Indeed. Nouvelle Vague has a lot of out-of-order monsters.''

    Vikir could think of quite a few criminals he knew who were currently imprisoned in Level 9.

    ''Cystus Ent Megidio, Lord Griffin, Aurora of Sleeping Beauty, Snowwhite of the Assassin, Cindere of the ss Heel, Marquis de Sade,'' ....

    Each of these monsters was powerful enough to wipe out an entire nation with a single blow.

    Imprisoned here after being sentenced to life imprisonment more than 5,000 times during their time on earth, even the Nouvelle Vague''s Level Nine floor could not contain them.

    "For your information, if you refuse to serve or resist the guards'' control, you will be sent to solitary confinement. Don''t think there''s a floor worse than Level 9."

    Garm opened his mouth as if aiming his words at Vikir.

    Vikir heard the words and nodded slowly.

    The cell the guard was referring to was probably nothing like the one Vikir was in now.

    ''Solitary. A terrible ce. I''ve heard it''s a hard ce to get out of alive once you''re locked up in it... and that there''s only one prisoner in all of Nouvelle Vague who can survive it.''

    Vikir was recalling all the information he''d heard before his regression.

    "... Huh!?"

    "Oh, they''reing, they''reing!"

    "Get out of the way or you''ll get eaten!"

    The low-level prisoners, returning from theirbor, backed away to the left and right, terrified.

    The guards, too, stood tense, their weapons crossed, staring at the other side of the gate.

    ck shadows stretched across the fiery horizon.

    Shadows that are big, small, or incrediblyrge.

    "...."

    "...."

    "...."

    They are the prisoners of Level 9, returning from their work in the center of thebor fields.

    All eyes were on the returning prisoners of Level 9.

    Vikir turned his head away as if he didn''t care, and spoke in a deep tone.

    "Hey, guard, do you happen to have a newspaper or something?"

    Lieutenant Garm, who was breaking out in a cold sweat, turned his head.

    Then, incredulously, he replied.

    "Newspapers? Why would you look for such a precious thing in a prisoner?"

    "Newspapers are precious? I didn''t know that."

    "Anything from the outside world is valuable, especially something as informative as a newspaper. Even among the guards, newspapers are rarely seen, and only the warden and a few other privileged people can read them."

    The connection to the outside world is both precious and dangerous.

    At least that''s how it worked in Nouvelle Vague.

    Vikir clicked his tongue ruefully.

    "We''re as good as prisoners and guards who are imprisoned here."

    At that, Garm put his hands on his hips in disbelief.

    But he did not bother to pull out the three-stage baton attached to his waist.

    ''...Tomorrow, that leisure will disappear.''

    Even if you are a demon trapped in Level Nine, once you taste thebor of the Nouvelle Vague, you will be stunned.

    This prison is named after the volcano Nouvelle Vague, which was once hotter than any other.

    It is now an extinct volcano, but the geothermal heat still trapped inside and unable to escape is as hot as hell.

    Garm expressed his condolences to Vikir, who had to dig down there starting tomorrow, especially the deepest and hottest part of it.

    It''s where even the demons of Level Nine die casually.

 Chapter 364: The Underground Extension Construction (1)

    <h4>Chapter 364: The Underground Extension Construction (1)</h4>

    4 a.m. the next day.

    Vikir was taken to the workshop as soon as he awoke.

    Even the strongest and most ferocious prisoners have no business having the BDISSEM chains around their necks forcibly pulled by a giant pulley in their sleep.

    Countless prisoners were dragged out and lined up in the corridors like rotting zombies.

    Then the guards on duty at dawn woulde out and count the prisoners from a distance, out of their reach.

    That''s the morning count.

    The prisoners were generally well behaved.

    They might be chronically sleep deprived and malnourished, but that didn''t stop them from being irritable and sensitive.

    There was a risk of being killed by a fellow prisoner, but mostly because they didn''t have the energy to be angry in the first ce.

    Standing in front of the massive iron gates to the workshop, Vikir waited to be given his tools.

    As he waited, he could see the prisoners on the next lower level lined up to get their tools.

    "Hey, give me more nails. I can''t work with these today."

    "Guard. The pickaxe is too dull to dig the tunnel."

    "The sledgehammer is loose, do you have anything else?"

    The prisoners were jockeying for every bit of good equipment they could get.

    They knew that the quota was always set, and if they didn''t meet it, horrible corporal punishment awaited them.

    The guards were also rtively cooperative with the prisoners'' demands, as they were punished in terms of wages and vacation time if the prisoners in their group did notplete their assigned areas on time.

    Some guards even fought with other guards to ensure that the prisoners in their group received good tools.

    Vikir tried to estimate the number of guards in the Nouvelle Vague based on the number of roaming guards and their chain ofmand.

    ''The number ofbat-capable guards is roughly 3,000, and the number of nonbatants is at least 4,000.''

    Due to information prior to the return, he also knows that there are five ''chief guards'' in charge of these guards.

    The numbers are higher than expected, and he needs to be careful what he does.

    Then.

    A sack of tools was ced in front of Vikir.

    The familiar face of the guard, Lieutenant Garm, was calling out the tools to Vikir.

    ''Strange how often we meet.''

    Without thinking, Vikir took the tools from him.

    Lieutenant Garm gave him instructions in a businesslike tone.

    "Work tools are strictly controlled to prevent prisoners from getting carried away. You must return your work tools intact at the end of your working hours, and if you lose them, you will be sent to solitary confinement until they are found. If your tools are broken or lost, you must have a note from the guards to prove it, otherwise, of course, you will be sent to solitary until they are found."

    If you lose your tools, you''re dead.

    So prisoners guard the tools they were given at the beginning of their work like their lives.

    Sneaking them away to escape or fight is unthinkable.

    And, of course, the prisoners had to fill out and sign an inventory form before going to work, stating what tools they had been issued.

    Every strand of rope and every nail had to be meticulously written down and inspected by a guard before the prisoner could leave for the workshop.

    "Come on, don''t waste time, let''s get moving!"

    "If we miss the construction deadline, we''ll be sent to solitary confinement again!"

    "Hurry up and write the status board and get the hell out of here, you slug!"

    The prisoners were anxious to get out of the workshop.

    Not because they liked the work, but because they were afraid of the harsh corporal punishment they would receive if the project was dyed.

    Vikir was also silently gathering his tools.

    "You''re early."

    A sledgehammer, a bundle of chains, and a handful of nails were all he had.

    Prisoners at Level Nine aren''t given much in the way of tools.

    The conditions in which they work are so harsh that wood burns and iron quickly turns to molten metal.

    So they have to break rocks and scoop up dirt with their bare fists.

    They must endure the heat with their bare skin, and they must climb barefoot, no matter how high or deep.

    Anything sharp and pointy, anything hard and tough, anything rough and heavy, they had to deal with.

    This, of course, was something Vikir had been preparing for since he was imprisoned in Level Nine.

    Then.

    "What''s with this kid, are you a level nine too? Kuru-kuru!"

    A sarcasticugh came from the back of the next row.

    Vikir turned his head to see a man with a huge frame, fearsome eyes, and a nasty birthmark.

    Sakkuth De Leviathan.

    The prisoner who had beenbeled a "Level 8" at yesterday''s intake was openly arguing with Vikir.

    Every time he bursts intoughter, a foul odor spreads.

    The prisoners around him were too afraid to go near him for fear of catching a gue.

    "Did you hear? That lunatic wasn''t even disinfected by the sulfur shower when he came in."

    "They say you can''t go near him without catching the gue. The guards don''t know what to do."

    "Damn, I''m afraid of shit. I avoid it because it''s dirty."

    "... That shit was scary."

    Hearing the chatter around him, Sakkuth became even more agitated and began to giggle.

    A foul stench of poison and fetid odor emanated from his teeth, which had fallen out due to the vile poison.

    "Kid, what did you do to get in here? You must have messed with somebody''s delicacy, I''ve heard of people being imprisoned like that sometimes. Yesterday, after the entrance ceremony, I went to the room and there was a guy who looked like a gisaeng olddy. I think his name was Casanova or something. Well, it doesn''t matter now, because I ate him yesterday. I chewed him alive. Kuru-kuru."

    There was no interruption from the other prisoners.

    The other prisoners cringe, fearing they might spread the gue.

    The guards, in their masks and hazmat suits, stood at a distance, frowning arrogantly.

    But.

    "...."

    Only Vikir stood there, unmoving.

    He was simply scribbling a list of the missing tools on the status board.

    Then, as if on cue, the prisoners around him shuffled to his side.

    "Hey, kid. Can''t you hear me?"

    "...."

    "Ohora, I saw you yesterday at the entrance ceremony, and you seemed to have a lot of nerve. Are you a level 9?"

    "...."

    "Hey. Just because I''m on the 8th floor and you''re on the 9th floor doesn''t mean you think you''re stronger and more dangerous than me, does it?"

    Sakkuth said, running his fingers through Vikir''s hair.

    "I came here to the Nouvelle Vague on purpose to have ''him'' by my side."

    "...."

    "But what''s this? He''s at Level Nine, why should I be at Level Eight? Isn''t there something wrong with this? Someone like me should be at Level Nine, why is a weakling like you at Level Nine and I''m not? Send me to Level Nine, too, so I can be by ''His'' side!"

    As he shouted in excitement, a dark aura began to emanate from his entire body.

    It was a poisonous aura that could not be blocked by the BDISSEM restraints, and the poisonous energy he had umted in his body naturally rose up regardless of his mana.

    "Why am I a level 8? Is it because I turned myself in? Isn''t that enough to send me to level 9? If so, why don''t I just turn this ce upside down? Let''s see if I can sprinkle some gue on it! Let me give you a taste of my ''Red Death''!"

    While roaring maniacally into the air.

    "...I think I know why."

    A brief voice caught Sakkuth''s attention.

    It was Vikir speaking, gathering up his tools after he''d finished cleaning up.

    Sakkuth sounded a little confused.

    "Kid, did you just say that?"

    "Yes."

    "Kurururu! kururu!"

    Sakkuth spat out augh that sounded like a thousand fires boiling deep in his throat.

    And with a terrifying expression, he thrust his face in front of Vikir.

    "I see. Why do you think I haven''t reached level nine?"

    "Because you don''t have the basics."

    "Basic? What''s that...?"

    He opened his mouth to ask.

    Shhhh.

    Vikir''s hand moved.

    Vikir shoves a handful of nails into Sakkuth''s gaping mouth.

    Then he raised his fist and punched him in the jaw.

    ppeo-eog!

    Sakkuth''s head turned.

    At the same time, the nails in his mouth ttered together, piercing his cheeks, nose, chin, and neck, and sticking out in all directions.

    "Puhak!? Keueeeeekh!"

    Vikir smirked as he stepped over the blood-spattered, struggling Sakkuth.

    "You should at least learn to recognize whether you''re the predator or the prey."

    At the same time, the sound of numerous military boots ttered up the stairs above the door to the workshop.

    Guards ranging in rank from major to lieutenant colonel and above were running frantically.

    "What''s themotion, ''Night Hounds''!"

    The blood drained from the faces of all the prisoners as they heard the shout from the workmander, Lieutenant Colonel Bastille.

    The Night Hound. Sentenced to life imprisonment 3,021 times. Prison level 9.

    Who would have guessed that the scary resident who had only been rumored so far would actually be such a handsome boy?

 Chapter 365: The Underground Extension Construction (2)

    <h4>Chapter 365: The Underground Extension Construction (2)</h4>

    Construction on the new Level Ten has begun.

    Digging down into the interior of the great volcano was hard work indeed.

    Even Vikir, who had crossed countless lines of fire, thought that it was probably the hardestbor in human history.

    ...udeudeudeug!

    Vikir rolled the huge boulder with his bare hands.

    Pushing the boulder up the steep slope.

    The boulder was not only heavy, but hot. As if it had just been pulled out of a fire.

    But it wasn''t just the boulder he was pushing up.

    Digging up soil, gushing groundwater, sulfurous gas, melting rock, billowing oil vapor, and zing mes.

    Everything about the construction site in the crater was extremely hot.

    Prisoners were forced to walk barefoot and carry heavy objects over the insanely hot bedrock.

    Inside this extreme heat, the flesh dries out and bes crispy.

    Blood, sweat, and the moisture of the flesh would drain away, leaving only the tiny bones and nerve bundles underneath.

    Compared to this heavybor, the entrance ceremony seems like a child''s y in the cradle.

    ...If Vikir, a superhuman, felt this way, what about the other prisoners?

    All around the workshop, people were copsing, and the crack of the guards'' whips echoed through the air.

    Higher-level prisoners, level 6 or 7 and above, also copse one by one from the constant hardbor and poor food.

    Each time, the lower-level prisoners upstairs would fall to the ground.

    "Did you hear? There was a death in Level 6 this time."

    "What? Level 6 is where the inmates are trapped, right?"

    "There are deaths there, too. I thought it was just pure monsters."

    "Even among those monsters, there''s a division of power."

    "Damn, that guy who died there would have reigned like a king if he were on our floor, right?"

    Seeing monsters that were much stronger and more vicious than them fall like that, how harsh must the depths of the workshop be?

    That''s why the prisoners upstairs are so careful to never be transferred downstairs.

    Naturally, the vague fear of the prisoners downstairs who survived in such a harsh environment cannot help but grow.

    Meanwhile, the prisoners downstairs had funughing at and belittling their dying colleagues or the prisoners upstairs.

    "Tsk, tsk, tsk. Hey, I hear there''s a death upstairs, must''ve been working."

    "On level six? You''re doing all the embarrassing work yourself. They should''ve transferred that weakling upstairs."

    "So, who ate it? The corpse, My mouth is watering...."

    "The guys around here ripped it apart and there wasn''t much left, just bones and skin, nothing to eat."

    It is a strangely distorted boast about the ss to which one belongs.

    It was a sense of pride and superiority over who was enduring the most severe suffering.

    In this atmosphere, a prisoner''s body, dried up like a mummy, receives no sympathy or remembrance.

    "That monster bastard, he''s finally gone. There will be no need to worry anymore."

    "Haha �C I can''t believe you''re like that even though you workedfortably in a cooler ce than me. Pathetic."

    The dead are greeted with fear, scorn, sneers, and sighs of relief.

    Even the corpse is reduced to a piece of meat to be chewed and swallowed in a few bites.

    The ''Level 10'' construction site was such a ce.

    At that time.

    ttuu-

    The sound of a horn echoed throughout the area, announcing lunch time.

    A honeyed ten-minute break. Ten minutes that melt faster than ice cream thrown intova.

    This mealtime was my only hope and oasis to make it through the day.

    ...tug! ...tug! ...tug! ...tug!

    The guards circled among the prisoners, distributing food from their baskets.

    Vikir, too, was given lunch, the only meal rationed once a day.

    ...tug!

    A chunk of bread so charred it could have been coal fell in front of them.

    The bread was already coarse and hard, but something had gone wrong in the cooking process, making it even cker and harder.

    The bread was served with salted sardines that hadn''t been gutted, and they reeked of a disgusting smell from the heat of transportation.

    But the prisoners ate it gratefully.

    Vikir chewed the bread and salted sardines and thought idly.

    ''... I wonder if the message got through?''

    Before being escorted to Nouvelle Vague, he''d sent a message to those who remained via CindyWendy.

    He''d even left one more message through Isabe before entering the Iron Maiden, just in case.

    There''s no telling what the demons might do on Earth without him.

    With theirpanions gone, the remaining demons must be quite nervous.

    But Vikir had a job to do here in Nouvelle Vague, and he couldn''t stay on the surface any longer.

    So Vikir had shared his n with a few trusted people.

    ''For now, I''ll do what I can.''

    Vikir shook off his thoughts and looked up.

    Before himy a vast crater, a shaft of sulfurous gas and bubblingva.

    It''s hard to believe this is the inside of an extinct volcano.

    ''There''s something down here I''m looking for.''

    Vikir stared at the bottom of the pit, not knowing how much further he would have to dig.

    It was then that Decarabia, who had been silent in Vikir''s chest, spoke.

    [It''s not long now, ''it'' is surely near].

    "So it is. I thought so, too."

    Vikir nodded, remembering the time before the regression.

    The Level Ten work here in Nouvelle Vague is aimed at digging deeper into the volcano and expanding its interior space.

    And it was serving some of Vikir''s purposes.

    Even if it wasn''t for the Level Ten, Vikir had something else he was looking for, and he needed to dig down into this volcano.

    To do so, he turned himself in and traveled all the way down to Nouvelle Vague.

    It was as if the power of many prisoners was helping him.

    Then.

    "...!"

    Vikir''s thoughts were interrupted.

    He heard a group of prisoners giggling and shouting from the workshop above him.

    "Hey, ''Stupid Garm''!"

    "Not enough bread, damn it, what if we screw this up!"

    "What the fuck! Are you asking us to starve to death!"

    "Give me your share of bread, you asshole!"

    It was an amazing scene.

    The prisoners were shouting usations and profanity at the guard.

    And he could see that the guard was rather shaken.

    Vikir recognized the guard''s face at once.

    ''You''re looking strangely familiar.''

    The guard was Lieutenant Garm, who had given Vikir some guidance in the past.

    His bushy hair, his cap pressed down so deeply that it obscured his face, and the burn marks that covered his face made it easy to recognize him, but they made it hard to tell what he looked like.

    "I-I''m sorry. Inmates. There''s a problem with the bread ration, and there aren''t enough of them."

    "Who cares if there''s a problem, you probably stole our bread from the other guards!"

    The prisoners'' usations were fierce. No wonder, they were deprived of their once-a-day bread.

    The work system at Nouvelle Vague was a bit unusual, with one guard in charge of dozens of prisoners, each working in their own section.

    The guard in charge and the prisoners in charge change every month, and it''s all recorded as a monthly performance, which benefits and penalizes both the prisoners and the guards.

    As a result, the guards do their best to improve the performance of the prisoners they are in charge of this month, often using whipping or solitary confinement as a weapon.

    But just begging doesn''t work, so the guards try to encourage their prisoners by giving them better tools or extra bread.

    And naturally, there were rivalries and nervousness among the guards, who would put well-behaved prisoners in their groups, or sneak extra tools or bread for the prisoners.

    Of course, here in the Nouvelle Vague, all goods are limited and scarce, and if someone gets one more bite, someone else has to go hungry.

    So the prisoners in Lieutenant Garm''s group resented his timidity in bringing them extra bread or work tools, only to have them taken away by other guards or prisoners.

    "Damn it, Why should I be assigned to the ''Stupid Garm'' group!"

    "I thought you said he was the lowest performer among the new lieutenants?"

    "Pathetic, I mean, ignored by his fellow guards and even the prisoners."

    "Did you hear, those burn marks on his face were inflicted by a prisoner?"

    "Pfft- that''s not all, the asshole says he gets his meals taken away by prisoners too."

    "Do you want to know something more surprising? I heard that the higher-level prisoners even make him keep watch over them at night."

    As Vikir listened to the prisoners'' descriptions, he suddenly realized why the guard''s face looked so familiar.

    ''It was a lot of hard and difficult work.''

    Going to the prisoners of Level Nine to show them around would be something even most guards would be reluctant to do.

    You never know when you''re going to get into trouble.

    Meanwhile, ten minutes into the meal period, the prisoners in Garm''s group were still stretching out their legs.

    "Damn it, we haven''t had any bread anyway, we''re not working, just beat us, beat us!"

    "I''m not working either~"

    "Well, since I''m in the stupid Garm group anyway, I''m not going to get any work done this month."

    "I''ll just get corporal punishment."

    "Hey, take out that triple baton on your waist. And kill me."

    Lieutenant Garm was at a loss as the group of prisoners was in a state of despair.

    Clearly, there was something a little off about him.

    Meanwhile, Vikir thought to himself.

    ''Now that I think about it, other prisoners are also sabotaging work.''

    It''s no wonder that the stronger and more violent prisoners are less likely to cooperate with construction.

    Prisoners held at higher levels and in deeper cells tended to neglect their work, and the guards couldn''t easily intervene with them.

    They are dangerous people who are lucky if they don''t go on a rampage.

    ''It would also look weird if I worked too hard on my own.''

    Vikir, is a prisoner at Level Nine. Most of the floors here at Level Nine are empty.

    Most of the inmates are in and out of solitary confinement on a regr basis, either because they''ve beenbeled as rebellious, a traitor, or a candidate for transfer to Level Ten.

    But for personal reasons, Vikir had to work hard on the construction of the Level Ten, and if he did anything wrong, he could be suspected of being too diligent in hisbor for a prisoner of Level Nine.

    ''I''ll need to have some sort of ''excuse'' for that. ... And there''s something else I''d like to try out.''

    After making his calctions, Vikir dropped the rock he was holding.

    Kurrrrrrr!

    The boulder rolled down the slope at a tremendous speed.

    "What? What the hell is that!"

    "Boulder rolling!"

    "Stop, stop, no, dodge!"

    The guards scrambled out of the way.

    Quack! Pow!

    With a loud bang, the boulder crashed into theva pit, sending rocks andva droplets flying in all directions.

    Soon, all eyes turned upward.

    The area where the inmates of Level Ninebor.

    There stood Vikir, the culprit behind the boulder, looking nonchnt.

    "I didn''t do it."

    The idea was to see how the guards came out.

 Chapter 366: The Underground Extension Construction (3)

    <h4>Chapter 366: The Underground Extension Construction (3)</h4>

    ...Boom!

    Waves of rock fragments andva spread in all directions, creating an earthquake and tsunami.

    All the prisoners and guards lifted their heads and looked at Vikir.

    "I will not."

    Vikir expressed his unwillingness to speak in brief words, and it was a revolutionary statement that shook the very foundations of Nouvelle Vague.

    Prisoners work and guards supervise. This is because this was the system that kept the Nouvelle Vague alive.

    ....

    For a moment, silence filled the whole ce.

    Vikir thought to himself.

    ''It''s almost time for the guards to start whipping.''

    ording to the Nouvelle Vague manual, if a prisoner refused to work, the guards could use whips, batons, or knives to punish them.

    ... but?

    Things turned out a little differently than Vikir expected.

    "Huh! A riot on level Nine!"

    "This, this, this, this, this is beyond our ability to handle!"

    "Backup! Call for backup!"

    "Kyaaahhhh! Blow the horn!"

    The guards screamed like girls, their faces drained of color and turned to A4 paper.

    Soon, the red horn, the most serious warning sound, echoed heavily throughout the workshop.

    ttuuuuuu! ttuuuuuu! ttuuuuuu! ttuuuuuu!

    As soon as they heard it, even the most distant prisoners dropped to the floor with their hands covering their eyes and ears, their mouths open, and their waists raised.

    They braced themselves for a possible massive shockwave, a move that was apparently practiced often.

    "...."

    Vikir closed his mouth, suddenly feeling sick.

    ''Now that I think about it, I heard that all of myrades who escaped before regression were imprisoned at around level 3 or 4.''

    A Level 3 or Level 4 prisoner rioting would certainly be treated differently than a Level 9 prisoner rioting.

    But I didn''t realize it would be this different.

    Vikir, who had simply refused to work, was being treated like a terrorist who hade to blow up Nouvelle Vague.

    ...jeobeog! ...jeobeog! ...jeobeog! ...jeobeog!

    The tter of military boots broke the cheaply frozen atmosphere of the workshop.

    Guards of the highest rank.

    Fierce-looking men, each with a sword or two emzoned on their shoulder epaulettes, gathered in scrums of dozens.

    Beside them were a circle of captain-ranked guards, each wearing a three-diamond insignia.

    At the head of the line, a Bastille lieutenant colonel spoke.

    "Night Hound. Resume yourbor at once, or there will be only punishment."

    He was in charge of various events, such as entrance ceremonies and execution ceremonies, and management ofbor camps, and was a high-ranking prison guard ranked just below the fifth warden in the Nouvelle Vague.

    Upon hearing the stern warning, Vikir raised his right hand and slipped it into the pocket of his prison uniform.

    The moment he pulled his hand out of the pocket, all the guards tensed up.

    seug-

    But what emerged from Vikir''s pocket was a fist with only his middle finger extended straight out.

    ...ppadeug!

    A line of blood stood on Bastille''s forehead.

    "Suppress him! Even if you kill him, I won''t hold you guilty!"

    At those words, the guards in front of him raised their weapons and rushed forward.

    Huge unyielding swords, massive maces, murderously sharpened longswords, heavy axe des, and long, gaunt daggers fell upon Vikir without warning.

    Vikir stroked his chin and pondered.

    ''I don''t see the face I''m looking for, so why don''t I just run around a bit until ites out?''

    At the moment, Vikir''s eyes saw the guards flying at him with mana, and their attacks were extremely slow.

    Although he couldn''t use his mana due to the BDISSEM handcuffs, it wasn''t difficult for him to dodge their attacks thanks to the Physical Resistance, Magic Resistance, and Reflexes stats he gained in the Hell Tree.

    Vikir''s psychic nerves, which had blossomed to the extreme, wereplemented by his experiencedbat senses.

    Puff-puff-puff!

    With a few swipes of his head from side to side, Vikir dodged all of the attacks and soon slipped around the back of the scrum organized by the consr guards.

    Then, the high-ranking guards who were building a siegework behind them were startled and surprised.

    "Hiig, we can''t get through!"

    "Don''t be silly! He can''t use mana anyway!"

    "Kill him!"

    Each of the guards drew a baton or sword and swung it at Vikir.

    But.

    "Bad judgment."

    Vikir swung the BDISSEM chains around his wrists and ankles in the air, knocking them all away.

    ng-woosh!

    The BDISSEM chains, meant to restrain the prisoner, became a weapon.

    The snake-like chains snapped the guards'' noses, cracking their bones.

    Vikir continued to pummel the three guards with his fists, feet, and elbows, then broke through the encirclement of the higher-ranking guards.

    "Ugh! kkeug!"

    "Keuhag!?"

    "Whack-"

    One by one, the lower-ranking guards were knocked out by Vikir''s blows.

    "Ugh! What''s wrong with him, he can''t use mana!"

    But it was only natural for the guards to react this way.

    Woosh!

    Vikir thought to himself as he stomped on the face of a Major-level guard who followed him the rest of the way.

    ''They say the guards at Nouvelle Vague are mostly evil, and they''re right.''

    No sane prison guard woulde to work in such a dreadful ce.

    Most of the guards here at Nouvelle Vague have been demoted for excessive harshness or corruption.

    Most of them are human beings who are no different from the prisoners except for the clothes they wear.

    Vikir knew this because he had seen and heard many testimonies of how the guards took out their perverse desires and stress on the prisoners.

    Then.

    "...!"

    Other figures entered Vikir''s vision.

    Older faces with less grime than the high-ranking guards.

    Guards of the so-called rank, the lowest ss in the Nouvelle Vague, were gathered in groups of twos and threes, pointing their swords at Vikir.

    Every single one of them was trembling.

    "Stand, the seniors are down, now it''s our turn!"

    "As a prison guard of the Great Nouvelle Vague, I will never back down!"

    "Yo, be brave! Let''s fight!"

    But no one stepped forward.

    They were still too young and weak to jump into something that would surely kill them.

    ''They must be about the same age as the students at the Colosseo Academy.''

    Vikir thought as he looked at the new recruits in front of him.

    Then.

    Fit-

    Vikir felt a streak of lightning pass across his cheek.

    Bam-bam-bam.

    A few strands of hair fell off his head from the sharp blow.

    "...!"

    Vikir turned his head in disbelief.

    A determined-looking female guard stood there, a knife tucked into her waistband.

    She looked to be in herte teens.

    She had a pretty face, but her stern expression made her look much more seasoned than her years.

    A diamond was pinned to her breastte, along with a namete that read ''Kirko Grimm'', a ranking badge indicating her so-called rank.

    Vikir stared in pure admiration.

    He could tell by the way she''d wielded the sword and the lead sword earlier that this girl''s talents were not ordinary.

    ''A rare quality. Comparable to Tudor or Bianca or Sinir... or perhaps even Camus or Dolores.''

    A girl with the potential to rival even the young heroes of the Colosseo Academy.

    Why would someone with such wasted talent be in a ce like this?

    ''Kirko. Didn''t any hero have a name like that before the regression?''

    Even the guards of Nouvelle Vague, who had dered themselves uninvolved in worldly affairs during the first half of the Demon War, hade to the surface to fight demons during the second half of the Demon War.

    The situation was as bad as it was.

    However, none of the female heroes who rose to prominence during that time were named Kirko.

    ''...With all her talent and skill, why wasn''t she known?''

    Vikir looked at Kirko with a bit of a question in his eyes.

    "Hot!"

    With no one else moving, Kirko alone bravely drew his sword.

    Another lightning-like sh, this one touching the peak of Sword Expert.

    ''Such a waste.''

    Vikir dodged Kirko''s sword with a paper-thin gap.

    ...kwang!

    He stretched out his snake-like grip, grabbed Kirko by the throat, and mmed him to the ground.

    "keoheog!?"

    Kirko hit the floor, vomiting.

    Vikir had just lifted his foot to pass by Kirko''s side.

    "Oh, no!"

    There was another guard blocking his path.

    Garm. Lieutenant Garm Nord.

    A guard who was known as the ''asshole'' among the prisoners as well as the guards.

    This reckless junior guard stood in Kirko''s way and started a confrontation with Vikir.

    "...."

    Vikir lowered his gaze in a strange way.

    Kirko slumped to the floor, moaning, and Garm standing in front of him in desperation.

    Whatever the rtionship between the two crybabies was, it wasn''t a pleasant one for Vikir.

    "Get out of the way."

    "Oh, no, Kirkoman...!"

    But Garm couldn''t finish his sentence.

    Pfft!

    Vikir raised his hand in annoyance and pped Garm across the cheek.

    ...Kwakwakwak!

    Garm was sent flying backwards in an instant, knocked out cold.

    "keueug!?"

    The gathered guards stamped their feet, helpless to do anything about Vikir.

    Vikir, meanwhile, could not outrun all these guards without expending mana, so he could only look for gaps in the encirclement.

    Just then.

    "What''s themotion?"

    A gravelly voice came from the top of a cliff far up the slope.

    A voice as heavy as boiling water.

    All the guards'' faces lit up as if they''d seen a savior.

    A man stood on a cliff, looking down at them.

    He had jet-ck skin and eyes that burned yellow.

    His short hair, the scars that covered his face and body, his log-like biceps, his waist, and the muscles that packed his body so tightly that his uniform was about to burst.

    D''Ordume D D''Orcdile.

    One of the five pirs that support the Nouvelle Vague.

    One of the Five Warden, the most powerful of the Five.

 Chapter 367: The Servant (1)

    <h4>Chapter 367: The Servant (1)</h4>

    Vikir lifted his head and looked over the cliff.

    Arge man with ck skin and searing golden eyes.

    D''Ordume D D''Orcdile.

    Colonel by rank. One of the five wardens of Nouvelle Vague, and with the exception of Warden Orca, there is virtually no one higher than him.

    "A riot?"

    Colonel D''Ordume''s voice was like a slow boil from a low temperature.

    Lieutenant-Colonel Bastille, below him, answered hastily.

    "Yes! One of the inmates of Level Nine refused to do hisbor and injured the guards! We were just about to subdue him!"

    "...hmm."

    D''Ordume''s gaze shifted to Vikir.

    Suddenly, Vikir felt as if countless axe des hanging from chains were stabbing at his entire body.

    ''This is dangerous.''

    His reflexes, maxed out in the Hell Tree, alerted him to the danger by making every hair on his body stand on end.

    It was a sensation he hadn''t felt in quite some time.

    Vikir was willing to trust the warnings of his instincts, and he immediately stomped the ground and stepped back.

    Kwakwakwak!

    The ground where Vikir had stood just moments before exploded with a loud crack.

    D''Ordume had fallen there.

    A slight earthquake urred when arge figure measuring 298cm tall and weighing 220kg fell.

    D''Ordumended with one hand on the ground and slowly pulled himself up to face Vikir.

    D''Ordume''s yellow-zing eyes emitted a strange glow beyond the searing sulfur fire.

    He wore metal gauntlets and a bandana on his forearms, from which sprouted axe des in a swirling, twisting spiral pattern.

    Kiiiiiiing-

    With that, an aura appeared on D''Ordume''s axe de.

    It began to spin at high speed, following the swirling lines of the de.

    It was as if he was wrapping a vortex of des around the forearms of both hands.

    ''...As expected, he uses an unusual weapon.''

    Vikir nodded, remembering a time before the regression.

    Among the heroes who once roamed the battlefields of the Frontier, there were two who were rumored to have unusual methods of attack: Mozgus, Archbishop of Quovadis Family, and D''Ordume, a Warden from Nouvelle Vague.

    Mozgus''s attack consisted of wrapping an aura around a thick scripture, splitting it open at each page and sending it flying, while D''Ordume''s used an attack method of extending his fist with aura loaded onto the strange arm straps and torsos wrapped around both forearms.

    ''He''s quite intimidating in person.''

    Aside from his massive size and immense aura, there was something about D''Ordume that intimidated his opponents.

    A human zookeeper, a man who had spent his entire life imprisoning, torturing, enving, harassing, and killing others.

    Like a dog curling its tail around a dogcatcher, a human being would naturally shrink in the presence of this man named D''Ordume.

    But Vikir is a demon hunter, a man who can make even demons curl their tails.

    He is a veteran of the battlefield, having spent more time on the battlefield than D''Ordume has lived in his entire life.

    The momentum that Vikir exuded was not only neutralizing D''Ordume''s momentum, it was overwhelming it.

    "...!"

    D''Ordume flinched at the sharpness of Vikir''s aura.

    "Is it true that you can''t use mana? If the power of pure flesh is this great... is amazing."

    Seeing the groaning bodies of the Major and Lieutenant Colonel level guards lying around, D''Ordume spoke up.

    "I''m going to have to uproot you from here."

    In this state, D''Ordume had an overwhelming advantage, as his opponent was still wearing BDISSEM handcuffs and shackles, unless he had ess to mana.

    ...Srug!

    Dordium raised the axe de on his forearm and said.

    "I warn you, this may be a summary execution. Because of an ''unsavory incident'' between a guard and a prisoner 19 years ago, the lower levels are strictly controlled and punished."

    "...."

    "There is no judgment. Farewell."

    With that, D''Ordume clenched his thick square jaw tightly.

    And soon, he ran forward with snake-like veins on his forearms as thick as logs.

    ...Thump, thump, thump!

    It was as if a giant water buffalo was charging at him.

    At the same time, D''Ordume''s two forearms crossed horizontally and vertically.

    ppeoeog-

    Vikir blocked D''Ordume''s two fists with his BDISSEM cuffs.

    But D''Ordume''s real attack came from behind his fists, from his forearms.

    Kiiiiiiing.

    Wind whipped along the sharp lines of the spiral axe de on his forearm, spinning shards of sharp aura.

    Vikir felt a chill run down his spine.

    He could feel it in his gut. If he continued to struggle with D''Ordume in this position, he would be pulverized like fish meat.

    Pow!

    Vikir quickly ducked his head and rolled to the side, out of the wind''s reach.

    And then.

    kwa-gigigigigigi!

    A whirlwind of aura that must have been more than a dozen meters in diameter flew out like a snake and swept in front of him.

    Patter-patter-patter-patter-

    It sucked in the surrounding rocks with a tremendous sucking force, crushing them into sand.

    It was obvious that if a person was sucked into such a ce, they would be turned into a handful of blood in less than a second.

    "Ew, wah! D''Ordume is unleashing his power!"

    "Everyone dodge, you''ll get caught!"

    "Co, Colonel D''Ordume, even the guards are getting affected...!"

    In front of D''Ordume''s power, which minced and crushed everything without distinction, everyone in the sweatshop began to flee in terror.

    Vikir, meanwhile, was slightly impressed.

    ''This is the power of one of the Five Warden''s.''

    Before the regression, the heroes from Nouvelle Vague had mostly fought on the front lines in terrain that even Vikir had never encountered, so he had never seen their skill and prowess with his own eyes.

    But now, in front of him, their power was truly untold, and the rumors had not been told in vain.

    kwadeudeudeudeudeudeudeug!

    Mountains are being chipped away before his eyes, and rocks are being turned into grains of sand and scattered in all directions.

    The swirling air currents mix with the sulfurous gas, creating a maelstrom of mes that soon explodes into a violent explosion.

    ...Boom, boom, boom, boom!

    And the whirlwind of strikes created by D''Ordume shredded even the explosions and mes, rushing towards Vikir.

    ''Such a monster has been lurking in Nouvelle Vague, but I doubt he will fight the demons in the future.''

    In the pre-Regression world, D''Ordume had also participated in the war against demons.

    But that was due toplicated circumstances, and his participation involved the sacrifice of many innocents.

    In this life, Vikir had already changed so many things on earth that it was unlikely that things would go as predicted.

    ''True. Many of my allies have been harmed by this man. Perhaps it''s better to be safe than sorry.''

    Vikir shook his head as he saw the screaming prisoners and guards caught in the maelstrom of fire in the distance.

    And when Dordium saw this, veins like a viper rose up on D''Ordume''s forehead.

    "How dare you ck off?"

    D''Ordume drew in a deep breath to summon his strength.

    Then he doubled the number of rotations per second of the aura spinning from his forearms.

    Kiyuuuuuuuuuung-

    The boulders that had been sucked into the vortex of the attack were no longer grains of sand, but instead turned into numerical dust and began to whirl.

    ''This is going to be hard to dodge, isn''t it?''

    Vikir ducked his head out of the way of the swirling des.

    Every nerve in his body was screaming like crazy from earlier.

    Vikir had to keep his wits about him, because if he reacted any slower, his entire body would be torn to shreds.

    ''...No mana should be used at this time, so I must use my reflexes, which have blossomed to the extreme, topletely control and maneuver my body. Above all else, I must focus on the original principle.''

    Vikir utilized his spatial perception and reflexes to the fullest.

    To know the exact size and position of his own body, so that he could pass through a shower of flying strikes.

    It was even harder than walking through raindrops falling from the sky without getting wet.

    The slightest miscalction in the size and position of the body would tear flesh and shred bone.

    ''But on the other hand, if I calcte the size and position of my body perfectly, it means I won''t get hurt at all.''

    Vikir moved like a ghost in the opposite direction of the twitching hairs.

    wajijijijig!

    One step, and the ce where he had just stepped is ripped apart.

    Pfft.

    Tilting his head, a fine line of stitches burst through the shoulder of his prison uniform.

    Vikir continued to dig into D''Ordume''s arms.

    And then.

    peoeog-

    A fist wrapped in BDISSEM chains shattered D''Ordume''s aura and drove deep into his abdomen.

    ''It went in.''

    Vikir thought to himself.

    [...Human! Danger! Back!]

    He heard the tiny voice of Decarabia shouting in his chest.

    Almost at the same time.

    "...!"

    Vikir felt an uneasy sensation like never before.

    No matter how much humans trained their bodies, there was a limit to how strong muscles could be when they were basically made of bone, flesh, blood, and skin.

    But there was something different about D''Ordume.

    His fist doesn''t feel quite right at the end.

    There''s a hard, heavy semi-sticity thates back along the back of the hand after a clear hit to the abdomen.

    It wasn''t the kind of thing that would be felt when hitting a human body.

    It''s like....

    "...Dragon body?"

    Vikir furrowed his brow.

    Whoosh!

    The thick sulfurous gas and the fragments of the aura caused by the vortex were cleared away, revealing D''Ordume''s body.

    ...BANG!

    It was clearly not a human body as it ferociously stamped on Vikir''s body.

 Chapter 368: The Servant (2)

    <h4>Chapter 368: The Servant (2)</h4>

    ...udeudeug!

    Vikir was crushed under a huge palm that pressed down on his entire torso.

    "...It''s not human power, that''s for sure."

    Vikir was right, the palm of D''Ordume that was now crushing his entire body was not human.

    A palm as big as a bed, the back of the hand covered in rough, thick scales, and nails like sharp ws.

    And what was visible beyond the thin webs spread between the five thick fingers were ck scales and burning yellow pupils.

    Saltwater Crocodile.

    D''Ordume was revealing a grotesque creature, half human, half crocodile.

    "I don''t like this look because my uniform is torn."

    D''Ordume muttered, baring his fearsome teeth.

    Meanwhile, Vikir looked at D''Ordume''s beast form and thought.

    ''...I wonder if the rumor was true that all five wardens of Nouvelle Vague are not human.''

    Beastman. Humans with a mix of genes from various beasts.

    They are considered to be simr to orcs, dwarves, and elves, and are capable of coexisting with humans due to their high intelligence and general appearance.

    However, when their emotions get the best of them, they transform into grotesque forms that look like a mix of animals, and because of this, they have been discriminated against, and their numbers have decreased to the point where they are almost non-existent.

    "Being a member of the saltwater crocodile family... this is rare."

    Vikir burrowed into the soft dirt of the floor, slipping out of D''Ordume''s palm in an instant.

    D''Ordume bared his teeth and chased after Vikir.

    A long, thick tail protruded from its ck uniform and swung like a whip.

    Quack!

    The stone mountain behind him crumbled to pieces.

    Vikir darted inward, following the hollow where the tail had passed, and swung his BDISSEM chain at D''Ordume''s side.

    However.

    ...Taaang!

    The inside of D''Ordume''s uniform was already filled with ck, thick scales and barbs.

    That''s why Vikir''s punch earlier hadn''t done any damage.

    "You don''t stand a chance."

    D''Ordume said, the aura of spirals still spinning from his forearms mming into the ground.

    kwakwakwakwakwakwang!

    A pulsating storm of blows began to erupt from beneath the ground, threatening to tear the world apart.

    Rocks, dirt, sand, andva all turned to fine-grained dust in this whirlwind.

    What''s more, the surrounding atmosphere is boiling madly as sulfurous gases are being sucked into the center of the storm and ignited.

    kuleuleuleuleuleug- kwakwakwang!

    Explosions and crushing. Prisoners and guards alike shuddered in the distance at the sight, as if the god of destruction had descended.

    And Vikir also made his decision.

    "Ah, this won''t work."

    As long as he''s wearing the BDISSEM restraints, he can''t win, even if hees back from the dead.

    If it weren''t for the stats he''d built up in the Hell Tree, he would have been torn apart long ago.

    "Then how about this?"

    Vikir ducked out of the way of a flying blow.

    The destination was the slope where Vikir had beenboriously pushing boulders up just moments before.

    D''Ordume had just reached the top of the slope when Vikir followed him.

    tig-

    Vikir kicked out all the loose rocks he had been working on.

    And then a huge shower of boulders ignited and began to tumble down.

    kwakwang!

    The ming boulders rolled down the slope at breakneck speed, crashing into D''Ordume.

    "Familiarizing yourself with the terrain is fundamental tobat."

    Vikir was always in the habit of studying the terrain around him in preparation for battle.

    It was true in the jungle of the Red and ck Mountains, it was true in the orphanage, and it was true here on Level 9 in Nouvelle Vague.

    But.

    "You underestimate the Warden of Nouvelle Vague, kid."

    D''Ordume was unfazed by the house-sized boulder that rolled right up to his nose.

    "Heub!"

    Taking a deep breath, D''Ordume raised his bulging forearms high in the air.

    And then.

    Kwah-bang!

    The blow shattered the rock.

    The powerful fist and the swirl of des that followed didn''t just shatter the rocks, they ground and crushed them into dust.

    u-ooooo!

    The guards, watching from afar, cheered at D''Ordume''s incredible feat.

    However.

    "It''s nice to have some strength. Please try more."

    Vikir stomped his foot over a few more trunks on the slope.

    kuleuleuleuleuleung-

    Boulders, evenrger than before, began to roll down the slope.

    "...."

    A bead of cold sweat formed on D''Ordume''s forehead.

    "Eh!"

    It would be disgraceful for him to back down while his men were watching.

    As Vikir had nned, D''Ordume was forced to use his strength to break every falling rock.

    kwang! kwakwang! kwajijijig!

    D''Ordume smashed three of the boulders in quick session.

    However, the fourth boulder proved to be a little too much for him....

    ppeoeog-

    He was only able to break it in half.

    The remaining piece of rock sent D''Ordume flying backwards, and hended upside down on ava pool at the bottom of the slope.

    ...pungdeong! pusiiiig-

    Theva pool, which was boiling at a temperature far beyondmon sense, swallowed D''Ordume whole.

    ....

    The guards who were cheering just a moment ago froze in ce.

    A strange silence settled over the entirebor camp.

    Then.

    Pur-pur-pur!

    The surface of theva pool was shattered, and somethingrge and dark soared upward.

    D''Ordume. He leaped up, his face a mess of anger.

    The uniforms issued to wardens are supposed to be fireproof, but judging by the fact that they were so ragged, the burns he had sustained were serious.

    "Kaaaagh, you bastard, I''ll kill you!"

    D''Ordume seemed to be blinded by his extreme rage.

    One only had to look at his muscles, which were more than twice as bulging as before he fell into theva.

    Then.

    "Enough."

    Vikir held up his hand.

    While D''Ordume paused, wondering what was going on, Vikir quickly exined.

    "I have no intention of resisting any longer. Let me live."

    "...?"

    D''Ordume doubted his ears for a moment.

    Criminals vicious enough to be locked up in Level 9 usually had huge egos.

    So once they start a riot, the only way to quell it is by execution.

    ... but?

    "I can''t beat you. Unless I use mana, but I don''t want to be killed anyway, so I''m done. I''ll ept any punishment if you let me live. From now on, I''ll be a good servant."

    All the guards, including D''Ordume, understood what Vikir was saying.

    Oh, my God, a prisoner of Level 9 is surrendering himself! If he was going to do this, why did he start a riot in the first ce?

    "You, you ridiculous...!"

    D''Ordume was about to shout when Vikir nudged him to the side.

    "Just so you know, I''ve been working on loosening up all the joints a little while now."

    "...!"

    "If you don''t let me live, I''ll zero out all the work you''ve done so far."

    Vikir has been working on a lot of nails, not just the ones he just removed.

    If all the boulders on the shaft up there were to roll off, the entirety of level nine would be wiped out.

    grrtt.

    D''Ordume gritted his teeth hard enough to break them.

    If the little bastard has his way, he''ll be caught someday, but the damage is too great.

    With so many of his men watching, and the other workshops''borers stopped, he couldn''t afford to keep themotion going any longer.

    "Very well. If you surrender, I''ll spare you execution."

    "Very well then."

    Vikir descended the slope only after receiving D''Ordume''s public promise.

    As Vikir descended, a number of guards who had been nking D''Ordume rushed to his side and ced double and triple BDISSEM cuffs on him.

    Thud, thud, thud.

    D''Ordume walked over to the kneeling Vikir.

    And then

    Bam!

    with all his might, he mmed his fist into Vikir''s face.

    ttug- ttuug-

    D''Ordume snorted as he looked down at Vikir''s bloodied body.

    "Take him to solitary confinement. Three months, no, a hundred days."

    "Yes! A hundred days in solitary is a de facto ''execution''."

    Beside him, Lieutenant Colonel Bastille nodded.

    Next, a number of guards rushed over and pulled at BDISSEM''s chains.

    Vikir fell to the ground, dragged, and disappeared into a deep pool of blood.

    "...Themotion is over! Resume yourbor!"

    D''Ordume turned and shouted.

    Then.

    "...."

    Neither the guards nor the prisoners stirred, but no one moved from their seats.

    Then D''Ordume shouted again.

    "What are you doing, resume yourbor immediately!"

    Just then, Lieutenant Kirko, next to him, spoke up in a low voice.

    "Excuse me, Colonel.... I''m sorry to have to tell you this, but... don''t have anything to do withbor."

    "What?"

    D''Ordume frowned as if he didn''t know what she was talking about.

    Then Kirko cautiously raised a finger and pointed behind him.

    "...?"

    D''Ordume turned his head to see what was behind him.

    A copsed mountain. Shattered rocks. Deeply dug up dirt.

    The construction was so far advanced that there was nothing for the prisoners to do butbor.

    The destruction was going on so fast and so much that it was overwhelming while D''Ordume ran around sweating.

    "...! ...! ...! ...! ...!"

    The veins on D''Ordume''s forehead, who had single-handedly fulfilled the prisoners'' work quota for the day, seemed as if they were about to burst.

 Chapter 369: Solitary Confinement (1)

    <h4>Chapter 369: Solitary Confinement (1)</h4>

    Solitary confinement. Corporal punishment for sharing a room alone.

    Solitary confinement is amon form of corporal punishment in prisons.

    One might wonder why solitary confinement is a form of corporal punishment, but it makes sense if the room is small enough to defymon sense.

    The popr concept of solitary confinement is that of a small space that''s less than half a meter square, aplete ustrophobic space with nothing to see and nobody to talk to.

    However, this is the definition of solitary confinement in most prisons, and Nouvelle Vague is far more severe.

    ''..., I was told.''

    Three months in solitary confinement for refusing to dobor and fighting the guards.

    Now Vikir will experience firsthand what it means to be sent to solitary confinement, the second harshest punishment in Nouvelle Vague after execution.

    Creak- Creak- Creak- Creak-

    One of the guards carried Vikir, who was stretched out and covered in blood from D''Ordume''s blows.

    As he dragged the cart, he spoke in a low voice.

    "As of this hour, you will be held in solitary confinement. You will be released after 100 days."

    Vikir raised his head, removed the blood scabs, and opened his eyes.

    He saw the familiar face of the guard.

    <Garm Nord>

    The name on his nametag was a familiar one.

    "Did you get caught again?"

    Vikir asked, and Garm smiled bitterly.

    "No. This time, I volunteered."

    "...Why?"

    "To get you to your cell in rtive safety."

    Garm said that there are vicious guards who often kill prisoners who have been found dead for fun.

    That was why he had volunteered to make sure that Vikir would not suffer any further penalties beyond those prescribed byw.

    Vikir shook his head.

    "What does it matter to you if I die or not?"

    "I just wanted to thank you ...."

    "Thank you?"

    "Yes. Because you didn''t kill me."

    Vikir was silent for a moment at Garm''s words.

    This was a calcted rampage in many ways, and there was no need to escte things any further than necessary.

    So Vikir had been deliberately careful not to cause any deaths, and Garm seemed to have misunderstood something from that.

    Vikir was about to tell him the truth when Garm spoke up.

    "And... most of all, thank you for bringing Kirko back safely."

    Kirko? Vikir paused for a moment.

    Then he remembered the face of the imposing girl guard he''d fought so briefly before the fight with D''Ordume.

    ''She was quite a character, too good to be rotting in a ce like this.''

    After his brief reminiscence, Vikir nced away again.

    Garm''s ears were slightly red from pulling the cart in front of him.

    "All the other guards had their noses crushed, their teeth knocked out, and their limbs broken, but... Kirko was unharmed, so I''m grateful for that."

    "Why are you thanking her for being uninjured?"

    "Well, that''s because...."

    Garm faltered and started to say something, but then mped his mouth shut.

    Seeing that, Vikir understood why Garm was despised by his fellow guards and prisoners.

    ''He''s too normal, the kind of personality that can only be considered shallow in this bottom of hell.''

    Garm was an ordinary boy in histe teens.

    So, it was inevitable that people would be at a disadvantage in ces that were out of the ordinary.

    As a result, he was bullied by his fellow guards in the dormitory and looked down upon by the prisoners in the workshop.

    He was even despised by a female coworker he had a crush on.

    ''In many ways, he doesn''t fit in at Nouvelle Vague.''

    That was Vikir''s assessment of Garm.

    ''He seems to have a good nature, but that is of no use in Nouvelle Vague.''

    Then.

    Garm spoke up.

    "...You''re going to be in solitary confinement from now on."

    "...."

    "I rmend that you bite your tongue before that, because solitary confinement is... really terrible."

    Such was the advice of the good-natured Garm, and he meant it.

    Naturally, Vikir ignored the advice.

    "That''s the kind of advice I was given when I was being escorted to Nouvelle Vague."

    "Ha, but solitary confinement is something else! It''s nothing like a convoy or an entrance ceremony, it''s horrible...!"

    But. Garm could not finish his sentence.

    Suddenly, a long shadow had begun casting in front of the cart.

    "Hohoho- Oh my? Who is this? It''s been a while since we had a guest?"

    A woman''s voice echoed through the ck cave.

    The moment he heard it, Garm''s body began to stiffen.

    "Well, that''s it for me then. Good luck."

    Garm gave Vikir onest pat on the back.

    He turned to face the other side and gave a powerful salute before turning and running away.

    "...."

    Vikir looked up.

    He saw a mountain peak jutting up like an awl. It was reminiscent of the Red Awl Castle in Morg''s territory.

    A woman walked toward him, leaving the harsh background behind.

    She''s tall, slender, and sexy voluminous body, and even more colorful mustache.

    Beneath her sunsses, the woman with the bushy mustache looked down at Vikir.

    Vikir knew who she was at a nce.

    ''...Colonel Souar��.''

    A half-dwarf, half-elf, she was one of the five leading wardens of Nouvelle Vague and, along with Colonel D''Ordume, the most likely next in line for the position.

    With dwarf blood in her veins, she grew a beard despite being a woman and had a natural talent for working with minerals.

    "Hmmm~ Let''s see. You must be the new prisoner who fought D''Ordume, lively one."

    Souar�� looked down at Vikir and chuckled.

    Kwagik-

    Souar�� stomped on the cart with the heel of her high heel, crushing it, and lifted Vikir by the throat with her hand.

    "Let''s see~ which cell do you want me to put you in?"

    Souar�� said in a seductive voice as she shook Vikir.

    Vikir frowned.

    There wasn''t anything around that looked like a room, so what the hell was she going to do?

    ...But Vikir''s doubts were quickly dispelled.

    "Oh, yeah. Let''s mix asphalt, concrete, and some BDISSEM powder and sculpt it."

    Souar�� then rolled the floor with her foot.

    And then something amazing happened.

    kkulleong-

    The ground beneath Souar��''s foot melted away, then boiled over with ava-like red glow.

    It soon turned into a liquid as thick as molten metal and began to change its appearance at Souar��''s will.

    "I''ll make you a solitary cell, just the right size for your body."

    Souar�� grinned, set Vikir on the floor, and popped arge pipe into his mouth.

    "This is your breathing hole. Don''t lose it."

    Frighteningly, Souar��''s words were barely out of her mouth when the concrete and asphalt from above began to cover Vikir''s body.

    Soon, Vikir''s body was swallowed by the concrete and asphalt and turned into a cocoon.

    Hotva flows over him.

    Chirrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

    The mold was solidifying.

    Vikir had to squeeze his eyes shut against the high internal temperature rose to the point where it was unbearable and the feeling of emptiness rose.

    ''... So this is the Nouvelle Vague''s solitary confinement.''

    Even for the mighty Vikir, solitary confinement was grim.

    No wonder prisoners feared solitary almost as much as the death penalty.

    Usuallysting a day or two, sometimes even a week, Vikir was sentenced to 100 days in solitary confinement.

    -''Put him in solitary confinement. Three months, no, 100 days.''

    -''Yes! One hundred days in solitary is a de facto ''execution''.''

    He could see now why Lieutenant-Colonel Bastille had treated Vikir as if he were on death row after hearing D''Ordume''s order.

    ''Still, I''m d I got a pipe in my mouth.''

    Water and food wille in through this, and he''ll be able to breathe anyway.

    But without being able to do anything, it was a waste of time for the hardworking Vikir.

    ''...I''ll take this opportunity to let my body rest a bit and organize myself a bit.''

    It''s important to stop and take a look back after all the running you''ve been doing.

    However, he couldn''t help but notice that the ce was unpleasant.

    Whatever happened next, Vikir realized, thest thing he needed was solitary confinement.

    Three months and ten days.

    Vikir would train his mind through meditation, and at the same time, he would try to piece together the information from before the regression and n his next move.

    ....

    He would have done just that if it weren''t for a voice that came out of nowhere.

    "Pushishishishi... A young fellow has joined this time, right?"

    The voice of a man who looked quite old.

    "It''s good to have a solitarypanion in myter years, young man, I hope you live long. That way, you will be mypanion as well."

    The voice was quite unpleasant to listen to, like a nail scraping against a ss te.

    "Who are you?"

    Vikir said briefly, pushing the hardening concrete with his lower jaw.

    He had to be careful not to let the pipe in his mouth fall.

    Then.

    "...."

    There was no answer for a while.

    As the silence slowly hardened like concrete.

    "Pushishishishi...."

    The eerieughter continued for a long time.

    And soon, the person locked in the cell next to him revealed his identity.

    "Just call me ''Angajumang''."

 Chapter 370: Solitary Confinement (2)

    <h4>Chapter 370: Solitary Confinement (2)</h4>

    The old man who gave his name as Angajumang continued to talk to Vikir, apparently bored.

    "It feels like it''s been several years since I was locked in this solitary confinement. Let''s see, I make a stroke in my mind every time I count 60 seconds, and that''s already over three million strokes...."

    Hearing Angajumang''s words, Vikir couldn''t help but click his tongue.

    Even for Vikir, who had gone through many hardships, the 100 days in solitary confinement were difficult and daunting.

    ''And you''ve been locked up here for so many years? I can''t believe it.''

    These are the words of a man he has never met and will never see again, but they are also the words of a prisoner he met in solitary confinement, not anywhere else.

    "How did you not starve to death after being locked up for so many years?"

    "Pushishishi �C they put ck bread crumbs into the bowl every two days, right?."

    "The amount of water I can take in must be insufficient."

    "No. You just have to suck in the dew in the air."

    Vikir was silent for a moment. Dew? In this hot space?

    But Old Man Angajumang was nonchntly telling him how to survive here.

    "Well, actually, you can live longer without eating breadcrumbs. You just have to slow down your metabolism extremely slowly and slowly break down the nutrients you''ve stored up."

    "...."

    "Pushishishi �C Young people these days tend to try to live too hard, and too much passion is a poison. It''s good to slow down and take a look at life once in a while, instead of rushing through it all. Be like stone, be like water."

    It sounds like the ramblings of an old man in a back room, but the location is too important to ignore.

    The solitary confinement of the Nouvelle Vague.

    This is a man who ims to have been locked up for several years in a ce worse than Level 9.

    ''If he hasn''t already gone insane from being locked up here,... he must be a big-time criminal.''

    Or maybe he was already insane.

    Angajumang then said to Vikir.

    "By the sound of your voice, you''re still a young man. What has brought you to this ce?"

    "Where can there be old and young in sin?"

    "Pushishishi- that''s true. So, what were you imprisoned for? Please answer the old man''s question."

    "Assassination of a political enemy."

    Vikir answered briefly.

    Then Old Man Angajumang chuckled.

    "Why were you imprisoned after doing such a good deed? Have you been rejected by your family?"

    "Well, you could look at it that way."

    "Well, well. It was like a hunting dog. When a rabbit falls in the mountains, it''s only natural that the hunting dog is boiled and eaten."

    Old Man Angajumang naturally added an afterthought.

    "For some reason, I think I know where you''re from, you''re from Baskerville, right?"

    Vikir was a bit stingy.

    The old man Angajumang sensed Vikir''s agitation like a ghost, and let out his usual eerieugh.

    "Pushishishi- you''re right, few families are heartless enough to send a hound that has worked so hard for the family to a ce like this. At best, it would be an Ironblood Swordman family or an Extreme Poisonous family."

    "I take it you''re familiar with the Baskervilles."

    "I know. Our family was once called the Iron Blood Swordsman."

    The old Angajumang man''s words caused Vikir to rack his brain for a moment.

    Nowadays, the Baskerville family is considered the greatest sword family, but it wasn''t like that in the past.

    Before the Empire was united, there were at least four other swordsman families across the continent that were more prestigious than the Baskerville.

    Bahamut. Jiz. Sade. Nibelungen.

    The Baskerville were somewhat of an inferior brandpared to these four.

    In fact, until then, they were just a family-type mercenary group that wandered around the continent without even a small territory.

    Anyway. There was a time when the Baskerville family was added to the four families above and they were called the 5th Ironblood Swordman Family.

    Old Man Angajumang chuckled nostalgically.

    "At that time, our family was also considered a prestigious swordsman family. However, since I gave up the sword at the time, the sword''s legacy would have been lost from then on ...Hmm, no. Perhaps the family itself has ceased to exist?"

    "Are there no descendants?"

    "Hmm~ There was a granddaughter, but I don''t know if she''s dead or alive. If she''s alive, she''s probably older than you. Not as far as your mom.... More like your youngest aunt or oldest sister."

    "You must have lived a long time, huh?"

    "Yes. I''ve lived a long time. I''ve spent a lifetime on the battlefield."

    The old man Angajumang chuckled bitterly.

    "To expect an old man like me to suddenly adapt to a peaceful world is unreasonable. Fighting and war have been my life."

    "And you still live fiercely in your solitary confinement in Nouvelle Vague. It''s a consistent life."

    "Pushishishi �C Fierce? here? you''re wee. This ce is like a resort. Right now, I am taking a leisurely rest to relieve the fatigue I suffered in the past... I n to go out as soon as I feel better."

    This was no ordinary old man who had the nerve to use Nouvelle Vague''s cell as a resort.

    Vikir wondered a little bit how long the old man next to him had been alive, and what a hard life he had lived.

    Apparently, Old Man Angajumang was thinking the same thing.

    "You seem to be able to talk to me. Do you know how to use a non-sword bimu?"

    Non-sword Bimu. Just as aplished Go yers y verbally with their eyes closed, aplished swordsmen can duel verbally with their eyes closed.

    This is impossible unless they know each other''s sword paths and moves.

    Vikir readily epted the elder Angajumang''s request for a non-sword bimu.

    "Do you know the swordsmanship of the Baskerville?"

    "I know the basics, so let''s get started."

    Old Man Angajumang opened his mouth to begin his opening move.

    Vikir did the same, unleashing his powers as he went along, creating an imaginary duel.

    Baskerville 1st Form. Teeth that stab deeply into the opponent''s body.

    Baskerville 2nd Form. Another deep, immobilizing bite into the opponent''s body.

    Baskerville 3rd Form. A tooth that bites into the opponent''s body and weighs them down.

    Baskerville 4th Form. Slice through the opponent''s body.

    .

    .

    Vikir warmed up and proceeded to perform Baskerville Forms 1 through 4.

    To his surprise, Old Man Angajumang saw through Vikir''s mastery of the four forms.

    "It''s amazing, a young man who hasn''t even reached the age of majority has mastered the Four Forms. It''s like watching a middle-aged man who has spent his entire life rolling on the battlefield!"

    However, after he finished speaking, he added in aughing tone.

    " ...Well,pared to this old man, you''re still a greenhorn."

    With that, Old Man Angajumang proceeded to make his first form.

    Vikir knew nothing of the old man''s swordsmanship, but Angajumang used Vikir''s theories of swordsmanship to build upon his own.

    Although he did not know Old Man Angajumang''s swordsmanship, but knew his own, could naturally see how old Angajumang was destroying his own swordsmanship.

    It was a sight to behold.

    Vikir''s first form was consumed by the gentle stroke of Angajumang''s sword.

    And the second one that followed was merely a reminder of where his main body was.

    The third and fourth forms, which hadn''t even gotten off the ground yet, were quickly consumed by Angajumang''s attack, and soon Vikir''s body was in danger of being torn to pieces.

    ''...What''s that? It''s not a normal snake?''

    Vikir had to stop himself from stealing a nce.

    At this point, the full extent of Vikir''s power is revealed.

    Baskerville 5th Form. Teeth that tear the body apart.

    Baskerville 6th Form. Teeth that crush the opponent''s body.

    Baskerville 7th Form. Teeth that mince the opponent''s body.

    Baskerville 8th Form. Teeth that brings all the teeth together and holds them in ce.

    The ultimate in swordsmanship that Baskerville can reach. The limit of the living.

    It struck back at Old Man Angajumang with tremendous momentum.

    The ck Sun.

    The same ultimate that had cut off the life force of 5th Corpse Amdusias had shaken the entire virtual world of Non-Sword Bimu.

    However.

    "Pushishishi- this really surprises me, I can''t believe it, how is it possible for you to be at such a peak at such a young age?"

    Old Man Angajumang was only surprised, not frightened or intimidated.

    Eventually, the power of old man Angajumang shes with that of Vikir.

    There was a ferocity and aggression in the old man that one would never expect from a dying old man, a youthful madness in his brash counterattack.

    A madman, a warmonger who has spent his entire life fighting and waging war.

    Even Vikir had no choice but to give in to his ferocity.

    ''...I never knew such a madman existed in the world.''

    Even Vikir had to admit that his duel with the old man Angajumang had left him in a state of shock.

    A creature brought into the world solely to fight, kill, and conflict.

    The very definition of a war madman.

    Every breath he takes, every step he takes, every hand he stretches out, is filled with nothing but the desire to kill and destroy.

    An aura that is eager to torment others. These misaligned dramatizations. This perverse virtue.

    He could see now why the old man had been kept away from humanity, locked away in solitary confinement here in Nouvelle Vague, in the deepest and most inhospitable of all ces.

    [He''s a madman, the type that should never be mixed with, regardless of species, demon or human].

    Even the once-demonic Decarabia had said this.

    At that moment, Old Man Angajumangughed bitterly and said.

    "ying with you like this, I feel a little motivated. I feel a little younger."

    "I''m d to hear it helps."

    "A great help. Ah! I don''t know how long it''s been since I''ve felt this way. Not since Winston and Orca. Hmm, and before that, of course, when I was fighting the Seven Counts of Baskerville."

    "The Seven Counts? You mean like the Boston Terriers and the Great Dane and Isabe?"

    "Who? I don''t know about that. Not the current Seven Counts, but the Seven Counts of previous eras."

    Well, judging by Old Man Angajumang''s age, it would have to be at least two generations back.

    Old Man Angajumang asked Vikir.

    "Who is the current patriarch of the Baskerville family?"

    "Hugo Le Baskerville."

    "Hugo... Hugo... who is that? Some unheard-of rascal is running the ce, and Why didn''t that old CaneCorso inherit the position of patriarch?"

    " ...Do you know CaneCorso?"

    "I know. He was a strict and picky man. When I was young, I got into trouble a lot because I was fussy without knowing anything."

    The old man Angajumang murmured in a wistful tone, as if recalling childhood games.

    "I still shudder when I think of the devastation he inflicted. Pushishishi �C Is he supposed to be dead now? Well, it''s only natural that so much time has passed. Perhaps he was possessed by something and chased after a vision of that sword grave or something. Like an idiot with lesser strength."

    "...."

    Vikir fell silent.

    He didn''t need to be told that the Grave of Swords existed, or that CaneCorso had be a Death Knight and attained the 9th Form.

    ...And apart from that, Vikir thought he knew the identity of the old man Angajumang.

    Before the regression, the guards of Nouvelle Vague had dered that they would not participate in the war between demons and humans.

    But that was only in the early days of the war.

    In thetter stages of the war, the guards of Nouvelle Vague began to fight demons on the surface, and not just to defend humanity.

    The copse of Nouvelle Vague.

    As Nouvelle Vague itself disappeared, the guards and prisoners were forced toe to the surface.

    ''It was Orca himself, the warden, who brought down the Nouvelle Vague.''

    Why would he, the symbol of Nouvelle Vague, take such an action?

    There were many different theories on the subject.

    But one theory is quitepelling.

    It was the result of a prisoner trying to get to the surface, and Orca taking extreme measures to stop him.

    It''s hard to imagine how dangerous he must have been to bring down an entire Nouvelle Vague prison just to prevent one man from escaping.

    As for who that escapee was, the opinions of the experts were divided...

    ''Perhaps it was him.''

    If so, Vikir knew exactly who old man Angajumang was and what his true name was.

    And given his knowledge of the long history of the Baskerville from Non-sword Bimu from earlier, he was even more certain.

    Vikir was confident in his guess.

    He concluded.

    ''... A person who should not be involved as much as possible.''

    Here was a human being, even more terrible and frightening than a demon, right next to him.

    �C

    �C

    �C

    tl/n: Bimu is a power fight to see the ability and measure the depth of one''s martial arts / swordsmanship

 Chapter 371: Sucker Shark (1)

    <h4>Chapter 371: Sucker Shark (1)</h4>

    Three monthster.

    "Hohoho-what''s this, you''re alive?"

    The concrete of the cell shattered with Souar��''s exmation.

    ppageujag- ppadeudeug! ujijijig!

    The hardened concrete shattered and V ikir opened his eyes.

    His body had been reduced to nothing but bone and skin, but his eyes were still bright with life.

    Souar�� stroked her mustache and said.

    "Well, if I''d known you were going to be like this, I should have taken you out a month or two ago. You''re better off in my room than in solitary confinement, aren''t you? I''ve been having some lonely nightstely."

    "No thanks."

    "Hohoho �C you''re a cheeky little thing, really. I like you, and I''ll be nice to you next time you''re in solitary confinement ~ see ya!"

    Vikir walked out unsteadily, being waved goodbye by Souar��.

    A quick nce behind him revealed a pile of concrete and asphalt, covered in countless piles.

    It must be the solitary confinement cell of the old man Angajumang.

    ''It was a terrible time.''

    Next to him, old man Angajumang kept asking him to y nonsword bimu.

    Vikir was returned to the stone chamber of Level 9, where he was originally imprisoned.

    BANG!

    The door ms shut, and darkness immediately descends.

    He would be taken to thebor camp at dawn in a few hours.

    Vikir decided to save some stamina for that time.

    jiiing- twes!

    The Ring of Andromalius was spat out from Decarabia''s unknown mouth.

    He had stockpiled quite a bit of food in it, so Vikir took it out little by little and consumed it.

    "I guess I''ll live a little longer."

    Vikir looked down at Andromalius'' ring.

    In the past, after creating arge barrier at the Academy, the power has not been gathered well, so he could only use it to take out food like this.

    It was a shame.

    [Human, what will you do from now on?]

    "I have to dobor, now I have an excuse to work hard."

    [Human. The other humans must think you work hard because you''re afraid of solitary confinement].

    "Right. I need to get to work on Level 10 as soon as possible. So I can find what I''m looking for."

    When Decarabia asked, Vikir responded indifferently

    But today, Decarabia had a lot of questions.

    [What on earth are you looking for at such a deep seabed, anyway? Is there some kind of treasure hidden beneath a dead extinct volcano?]

    "...."

    Vikir was silent for a moment.

    What Vikir is looking for.

    It''s a very important thing, especially now that there are only four of the Ten Corpses left.

    ''If the three survivors of the ten corpses join hands, something will happen.''

    They would most likely try to hasten the age of destruction by force.

    If that happens, no matter how hard Vikir try to get out of the way, he''ll only have one body.

    A terrible war that would kill countless human beings. There will be a war of destruction.

    Now, the battle against the Ten Corpses has entered its final phase. Vikir, too, had something to lose and something to gain.

    ''Maybe I can end the fight once and for all.''

    And so Vikir traveled to Nouvelle Vague to find a weapon that could counter the final weapon of the Ten Corpses.

    [The final weapon of the Ten Corpses, which presumably means the Rainy Season of Fear?]

    "You know very well."

    [I know, for I was once their ally].

    Decarabia narrows its eyes in agreement, then continues asking questions.

    [..., did the human side have any weapons to counter the ''The Rainy Season of Fear'', as far as I know, no].

    "The demons would know that."

    Vikir said, his eyes shining.

    But there is. Deep within the Nouvelle Vague volcano, beyond the reach of even the eyes of the demons....

    An ancient weapon, ''one that shakes the earth with a roar'', that no mortal knows even exists.

    "''Poseidon'' definitely exists."

    The Rainy Season of Fear is the final weapon of the demons, and only Poseidon, the final weapon of humanity, can quell it.

    Vikir had traveled all the way down to Nouvelle Vague to find it.

    Even if it meant tearing up all the rtionships he''d built with his friends.

    ''They''re just schoolmates, people I knew for a year or so when I was a teenager. They''ll quickly forget about me.''

    Vikir briefly shed back to the faces of Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir, but quickly dismissed them.

    What matters now is life in Nouvelle Vague. He must push forward with the construction as quickly as possible, so as not to be outdone by the demons.

    ''The ones who joined hands must have been Cimeries the 4th, Andrealphus the 3rd, and uros the 4th, right?''

    The spection came from the mouths of those who had tortured him before he entered the Nouvelle Vague.

    Cimeries, who was apparently a Don Quixote, Andrealphus, who was apparently an Usher, and uros, who was apparently a Leviathan.

    ''Is thest one still in the imperial family?''

    It is suspicious that the Emperor did not even show his nose until this division was born from the of the Seven Great Families.

    So Vikir nned to infiltrate the imperial family the day he escaped from Nouvelle Vague.

    ''If I have to, I''ll slit the throats of the entire imperial family....''

    Then.

    A voice interrupted Vikir''s thoughts of casual treason.

    "Everyone wake up! It''s time to go to work!"

    It was the wake-up call of Lieutenant Colonel Bastille.

    * * *

    All prisoners in the Nouvelle Vague are required to performbor at 4 a.m.

    There were no exceptions, even for prisoners returning from solitary confinement.

    ...kkang! ...peoeog! ...kwasag!

    Vikir was pickaxing while wearing severalyers of BDISSEM handcuffs and shackles.

    The guards chattered as Vikir continued to dig without pause.

    "I''ve never seen a Level 9 prisoner work so hard."

    "Don''t you think there''s something fishy about this? Is there an ulterior motive?"

    "No ulterior motive. He''s the one who refused to do hisbor the other day and was subdued by Warden D''Ordume and sent to solitary confinement."

    "Oh, right. He was in solitary confinement for three months or so, and he made it out alive? That''s a badass."

    "He made it back alive, but... After that, he keep his mouths shut and do nothing butbor."

    "Indeed, solitary confinement is scary, isn''t it? Even the monsters of Level 9 have a human side."

    "It''s frightening. I''ve seen a mane out of solitary confinement after only half a day, his head white as a sheet, and another after a full day, dead of a heart attack."

    No one, not the prisoners, not the guards, thought anything strange about Vikir''s hard work.

    From then on, Vikir became known as the hardest-working prisoner in Level 9.

    "Okay, it''s meal time! Ten minute break!"

    The next thing he knew, it was lunchtime and the guards were calling for a break.

    Vikir sat down and ate his half-steamed sardines and stone-hard ck bread.

    Waddeuk-

    The ck bread, which was hard enough to break a tooth, did not crumble even when it was hit hard against a rock.

    The sardines, despite being heavily salted, gave off a sour stench.

    But the prisoners ate this trashy meal without a second thought.

    The work ofpleting the Level 10 was hardbor.

    Someone called it an extinct volcano, and the slightest digging into the cooled strata unleashed a fearsome burst of heat.

    A scorching sun that dried everything to a crisp, andva cascades that flowed everywhere.

    Being here is like being turned into jerky.

    A normal person wouldn''tst more than a few seconds.

    Turning his head, he saw some of the prisoners staring down into theva-filled pit.

    Presumably, they''ve gotten tired of the stale pickled sardines and rock-hard ck bread and are looking for something else to eat.

    " ...Are there any?"

    "Yes. I just saw a shadow."

    "Let''s go fishing."

    "Pull the line and needle before it burns!"

    With that, the prisoners reeled in something with a chain fishing line and hook and line needle made from work tools (which are a death penalty if lost).

    Chwaak-.

    It was ava shark, a monster that lived in theva, eight meters long and over a ton in weight.

    "Gotcha!"

    A prisoner shouted, and the surrounding prisoners rushed towards him.

    Theva shark, which had nothing to eat but bones and skin, was quickly torn to shreds by the hands and teeth of the countless prisoners.

    The prisoners searched for other food.

    But Nouvelle Vague is not a hospitable environment for hunting creatures in the first ce, and the prisoners'' hunger forced them to look elsewhere.

    "...heoeog, heoeog."

    Vikir looked at a prisoner sitting in the distance, gasping for air.

    His skin was pale and soft, and he was plump and overweight, making him unsuited to the harsh work environment.

    He could see the other prisoners making sure he didn''t have to work.

    "You don''t have to work. We''ll do all the work for you."

    "Don''t even move. Just lie down."

    "Uh-huh, don''t move, you''ll lose weight."

    Next thing he knows, the most powerful prisoner in the room walks up to the fat one with his mouth watering.

    wajag-

    The prisoner tears off a piece of flesh and eats it.

    The prisoner screams in pain as his flesh is ripped off, but he can only swallow his tears in frustration.

    "Hehehe... Get this bastard treated. He''s going to be chewed up for a long time."

    "I''m d you put the ointment in in check."

    "Tomorrow it''s me."

    "This asshole''s flesh needs to heal fast."

    The expression "Rip Off" is often used to describe the exploitation of another person, and here in Nouvelle Vague, it was happening in a very literal way.

    Of course, Vikir had no reason to engage in such a disastrous food war, as he had plenty of food stockpiled within Andromalius'' ring.

    "... They live so hard."

    Vikir marveled.

    At this point, it was impossible to tell who was human and who was demon.

    Just then.

    "...!"

    Vikir''s eye caught a third way the prisoners were getting food.

    It was neither hunting nor eating. Surprisingly, it was the most normal andmon-sense way.

 Chapter 372: Sucker Shark (2)

    <h4>Chapter 372: Sucker Shark (2)</h4>

    A third way for prisoners to get food.

    It was called begging.

    Several guards were sitting on a rock eating lunch.

    While the prisoners were eating pickled sardines and ck bread, the guards were eating better things.

    Guards receive a hunk of salted pork, arge hard-boiled fish roe, fresh seaweed, a bottle of manatee''s milk, and, on rare asions, carrots, spinach, or potatoes as a special treat.

    More senior guards at the rank of major and above were sometimes given fruit, such as apples and oranges.

    It was nothingpared to the food on the ground, but at least in the eyes of the prisoners, the guards'' meals were the most delicious food in the world.

    The guards would sometimes use this food as bait to lure the prisoners.

    "Hey, sucker shark~"

    One of the guards waved his hand yfully, and a prisoner who had been waiting in the distance ran over, his feet sweating.

    "Get down."

    The prisoner immediately dropped to the ground and exposed his stomach.

    "Stand up."

    "Sit down."

    "Raise your legs."

    "Open your mouth."

    "Hands."

    The prisoner did as he was told, performing all the actions a pet dog would do.

    The guard finally chuckled and tossed the prisoner a piece of leftover pork.

    "Keep up the good work, boy, and don''t get in trouble."

    "Yes! Guard! my honor!"

    The prisoner waits with his head on the ground, drooling.

    Like a "sucker shark" picking up what the big fish has left to eat.

    Finally, the guard gives him permission to eat.

    "That''s enough, eat."

    With trembling hands, the prisoner picked up the piece of pork and sniffed it for a long time.

    Then he licked his tongue excitedly across the fat that had hardened on the outside of the pork.

    He savored the salty, savory vor for a long time, his eyes filled with tears.

    Little by little, he tasted the vor on the tip of his tongue, gnawing at it with the tips of his teeth like he was sharpening his nails.

    As he did so, the piece of pork melted in his mouth, almost like candy.

    The other prisoners watching could only gulp down their saliva.

    "Now, you guys, if you finish your quota of work this month, we''ll let you eat the leftovers!"

    "Work like hell, and I''ll let you have my fixed sucker shark!"

    "Work hard! I''ll take care of the guy with the highest workload on the floor this month and let him eat ice cream!"

    The guards said as they tossed leftover fish roes, scraps of meat, and manatee milk onto the floor.

    No wonder the prisoners'' eyes rolled when they saw the rotten sardines and stony bread they couldn''t eat.

    "Oooooooh, let''s get to work!"

    "Did you hear? It''s ice cream!"

    "It''s mine! I''ll work the most!"

    The prisoners'' morale soared. They were now confused as to whether they were human or not.

    Hunger is a terrifying thing, male or female.

    They had been so deeply tamed down to their bones.

    ... but.

    Not all prisoners dreamed of sucker sharks like this.

    "Hey."

    In some cases, the hierarchy between guards and prisoners waspletely reversed.

    A prisoner at Level 8. Aka ''gue Leper''.

    He was currently sitting on a rock, picking at his pimples.

    The other prisoners dare not go near him for fear of catching the gue.

    "Hey- can''t you hear me, is your liver so swollen it''s sticking out of your stomach?"

    And it was the guards, not the prisoners, who were calling out now.

    "...."

    It was a lowly guard with bushy hair and arge burn scar on his face.

    It was Lieutenant Garm Nord.

    Sakkuth stretched out his palm toward him as if it were a matter of course.

    "Give me your meal."

    "...."

    Garm nced at the guards around him.

    Unfortunately or fortunately, his fellow guards had no idea that he was being insulted.

    This was not because Sakkuth''s actions were covert, but because Garm was in a position to be unnoticed by his coworkers in the first ce.

    Sakkuth smirked and snatched the meal from Garm''s hand.

    "I knew you weren''t looking at all the other guards, man. Thanks?"

    "...."

    "Be grateful that I''m letting you get away with offering this much food. Do you understand?"

    The voice was low and threatening.

    "If I set my mind to it, you know, that Kiriko or whatever the hell she is, she''ll get the gue, and she''ll die a very miserable death."

    "...."

    "You''re in love with that bitch, aren''t you, and you don''t want to see the girl you''re in love with shit all over you and then dry up like jerky, do you?"

    "...."

    "Then, take care of it and bring me lunch like this every day. Kurukuru...."

    He muttered in a sullen voice and tried to shove bits of pork and fish roe into his mouth.

    Just then.

    "Hey!"

    A sharp shout echoed throughout the workshop.

    It was a shout so loud that it made him hup in surprise as he tried to swallow his food.

    Where Garm turned his wide-eyed gaze, a lone female guard stood.

    Ensign Kirko Grimm, an elite junior guard, soon to be promoted to lieutenant.

    Her eyes narrowed, and she red back and forth between Sakkuth and Garm.

    "A guard gives food to a prisoner, are you crazy?"

    Garm doesn''t dare to meet Kirko''s demanding gaze.

    The prisoners clicked their tongues.

    "That annoying couple again?"

    "A stupid woman and a stupid man."

    "What a waste of a woman."

    "Kigkigkig- it''s hard when you have the wrong motives."

    Judging by the prisoners'' reactions, this was a fairlymon urrence.

    Kirko stalked over and snatched the food from Sakkuth''s hand.

    Then, with a sharp re, she said

    "If you are a prisoner and covet food one more time, you will be beheaded on the spot. I will report you to my superiors immediately."

    "Kurukuru- why is our pretty female guard so cranky today... eug!?"

    Sakkuth tried to deflect the situation with a sneer, but it was impossible due to Kirko''s footsteps behind him.

    Cha-kang!

    Kirko quickly drew his sword and cut off the tip of Sakkuth''s beard.

    As Sakkuth''s eyes widened in disbelief, Kirko snorted once and looked at Garm next to him.

    "Don''t embarrass your mate... No, don''t embarrass the guard, you idiot."

    "I''m sorry."

    "Don''t even say sorry. Are you really an asshole?"

    There was a faint contempt in Kirko''s gaze as she red at Garm.

    "... If you can''t do your job, you''re an asshole."

    And with that, she walked away, her hair whipping in the cold wind.

    Garm hung his head, unable to argue further, and the prisonersughed at him.

    "''Stupid Garm'' is just as stupid today."

    "He''s really pathetic, how can a guy like that be a guard?"

    "You said that if you join that bastard''s group, you can steal that bastard''s meals?"

    "He''s a piece of shit. He doesn''t make me work, but he gives me meals."

    "I want to work under him next month, because I don''t have to work and I get to eat delicious food."

    The nicknames that followed him were varied.

    "Stupid Garm," "stupid dog," "walking bread," "idiot," "hogwash," etc.... All of them were negative.

    And to my surprise, the nicknames came not from the prisoners, but from their fellow guards.

    "Hey, did you lose your meal to the prisoner again? This guy is really stupid."

    "It''s good to prevent problems by giving a meal as a bribe... If you do that, the other prisoners will also have bad habits. so don''t do it to your coworkers."

    "Eh, are you okay, Kirko? Don''t worry about him, he''ll just stress you out and ruin your pretty face."

    "Asshole. I''ll see youter, after dinner."

    His coworkers scowl at him.

    The more they talked, the deeper Garm''s burn-scarred face sunk.

    Kirko nced at it, and with a light sigh, turnedpletely around and left with herrades.

    "Kurukuru... I''m letting you off today because of that damned bitch, but not tomorrow, don''t forget. Bring your entire lunch. Otherwise, like I said, I''ll turn that Kirko bitch into a second gue leper."

    He whispered in Garm''s ear again, this time in a low voice, and walked away.

    Even humming a song.

    "...."

    Alone, Garm soaked up the scornful nces and sneers from the prisoners and guards around him.

    All the while, his gaze remained fixed on Kirko, who stood in the center of their circle.

    ....

    And there are eyes that watch this whole sequence of events wordlessly.

    "...Hmm."

    It was Vikir.

    After much thought, he formted a n.

    ''Maybe I could use this to my advantage?''

    Garm. And Kirko.

    Perhaps the rtionship between these two young men could help.

    ''In the uing moment of escape.''

    Vikir was now plotting his escape from Nouvelle Vague.

    A n that would be put into action as soon as he found Poseidon, the hope of mankind.

    ...and.

    ''That moment'' came much sooner than Vikir had expected.

 Chapter 373: Poseidon (1)

    <h4>Chapter 373: Poseidon (1)</h4>

    Buuuuk-.

    A sound like tough leather being torn.

    Suddenly, the sky tore open.

    A rim of searing fire burned around the crack, and giant snakes of fire lurched toward the ground.

    Patter-patter-patter-patter-

    Searing raindrops fell from the sky above.

    The showers of fire left no ce untouched.

    The grass and trees of the mountains burned, and the forests became a desert of ashes.

    The oceans andkes boiled over and turned into wastnds, and all living and breathing things were burned or dried up.

    Skeletons cried out even in death, and those who hadn''t yet died were afraid to take a single breath.

    A time hade when nothing could be promised and nothing could be assured.

    Protecting and preserving has be a crude joke, and the concept of yesterday and tomorrow has been lost.

    Showers of fire became floods of me, flooding across the continent for 150 days.

    After five months of non-stop torrential rain, the world was set aze.

    Burned and dried corpses formed mountains, and mes leaped across the horizon, searing like a tongue licking the sky.

    ''Rainy Season of Evil Fire.''

    Endless, endless rains of fire, winds of fire, thunderbolts of fire, floods of fire.

    It was the long rainy season that marked the end of humanity.

    It was the final weapon of the demons that inflicted the greatest and most devastating damage on the human alliance by wiping out 98% of all living humans.

    * * *

    It''s 3:30 in the morning.

    ''Aaaah!''

    ''It''s hot! Hot! Hot! Hot!''

    ''Help me!''

    Screamse out of nowhere in the quiet stone chamber.

    Burning people screaming at the top of their lungs.

    "...! ...! ...! ...!"

    Vikir opened his eyes in a cold sweat.

    He''d had a nightmare. A dream about ''those days'' for the first time in a long time.

    "...A shower of fire. Is this a nightmare I haven''t had in a long time?"

    Who said that the trauma caused by fire cannot be washed away even after a lifetime?

    The burn-in marks on the old hound''s retina were still clearly visible.

    It had been several minutes since he''d awakened from his dream, but his hair still stood on end.

    The goosebumps on his forearms were still there.

    cheolpeog- cheolpeog- chwaag!

    Vikir washed his face in the salt water that dripped down from the ceiling.

    The icy cold water dug into his hair and soaked it, shaking him out of his dream.

    The Rainy Season of Fear. The terrible season that had cost humanity the most in the Age of Destruction came back like a nightmare.

    A time when countless drops of fire fell from the sky, scorching the world.

    The day when most of the faces Vikir had met, known, and remembered had burned to ckness.

    "... I don''t know if I did a good job of finishing what Cindy Wendy asked me to do."

    Vikir muttered as he flopped down on the ground.

    Anticipating this terrible rainy season, Vikir had warned Cindy Wendy once before.

    ''There will be a great flood soon, so have the ''Ark'' ready.''

    Vikir crouched in the corner of the stone chamber and contemted whaty ahead.

    It had been about two years since he had been imprisoned here in Nouvelle Vague.

    ''... It seems like just yesterday I was in solitary confinement for a hundred days.''

    A lot has happened in the Nouvelle Vague since then.

    First of all, the construction work on the Level Ten has progressed a lot.

    The already deep crater had be even deeper and was now called the Great Crater.

    Old prisoners were dying and new ones wereing in.

    Two years ago, the prisoners who had been in charge had grown weak from the hardbor and poor nutrition and had either died or resigned from power, leaving their ces to be filled by younger, less imprisoned prisoners.

    A small number of new guards have also been appointed.

    Most of them did notst long and died on the job due to the extreme conditions of the prisoners, the territorial nature of the original guards, harsh working conditions, and unknown endemic diseases.

    In the meantime, Vikir has been able to get most of what he wants.

    The construction of the Level ten sector has progressed, and he has earned the trust of the other prisoners and the guards by staying out of trouble and serving them faithfully.

    ... But only one. There was one thing that even Vikir didn''t have, and that was a newspaper.

    ''Or, more urately, news from the ground.''

    What had happened on the ground during Vikir''s nearly two years inside Nouvelle Vague?

    Vikir tried hard to find out, but it ended up being fruitless.

    Neither the other guards nor the prisoners knew what was going on outside, and in the first ce, only a few guards at the top knew.

    But once, Vikir managed to catch a glimpse of news from above, and it wasn''t all that reliable.

    ''... Damn. Why was this magazine shut down? It was good.''

    A third-rate pornographic magazine that Lieutenant Colonel Bastille grumbled and threw away.

    The magazine, which was popr among the guards due to its extreme sexuality and other sexual controversies, had stoppeding in at some point.

    A pornographic magazine that had always been a bestseller was suddenly discontinued. It could have been, but there was something suspicious about it.

    ''Maybe there''s a problem with the supply of magazines. Maybe the trees to make the paper are gone, or maybe the building where the magazine is housed has copsed, or maybe there''s no one on the who can afford to subscribe anymore?''

    Vikir set his chin in thought.

    They may be making excessive assumptions based on the fact that a third-rate pornographic magazine unterally canceled its subscription.

    But as with everything, it never hurts to be prepared.

    Vikir thought.

    With no way to get news from the ground, he couldn''t be sure, but it was likely that the demons were preparing for the final war by now.

    No, they would have started the day he was imprisoned in Nouvelle Vague.

    ''...It''s time for me to start producing some tangible results.''

    Vikir was feeling a rare feeling of impatience.

    ttuuuuuu-

    At 4 a.m., the wake-up call cut through the air like a sword.

    Vikir, who is always up and ready half an hour before the wake-up call, was the first to hit the grate today.

    The BDISSEM grate bes as mushy as a de of grass, and when heid it on its side, an opening was created for him to exit the room.

    What a mysterious material.

    "Thebor begins, scum!"

    The prisoners crawl out of their cells to the workhouse today under themand of Lieutenant Colonel Bastille, who oversees thebor camp.

    The miserable meals, the poor rest, the prisoners growing increasingly angry.

    In the two years that Vikir has spent here, countless faces havee and gone.

    Almost all of the overwhelming majority of the prisoners were assembled in thebor yard, waiting on the floor, looking as if they might copse and die at any moment.

    Every day was the same as yesterday. And tomorrow would be the same as today.

    Hot air, bursting steam, foul sulfurous fumes, roaring mes, scorched earth, heavy loads, little sleep, sweat, and hungry bodies.

    In this daily race to the death, the prisoners were living the same life as the dead, with no past, present, or future.

    Their thoughts in thebor camp were always the same.

    Before enteringbor, they thought, ''I want to die like this,'' after going intobor, ''Please just live my life,'' and after thebor was over, ''I want to be safe today too.''

    It was always the same pattern.

    ... But not Vikir.

    ''Not today!''

    Every day was a new challenge, every moment a first exploration, every race a certain destination.

    Unlike the other prisoners, Vikir hade down here of his own free will, and he knew what he wanted.

    So for the past two years, without a single day off, he has been chipping away at stone, scraping dirt, and digging deep into the crater.

    ...And today. This very moment!

    Vikir is faced with a day that ispletely different from the 700 or so days he has spent in Nouvelle Vague so far.

    BANG!

    The sound of a mysterious explosion echoed through the center of thebor camp on Level 9.

    Explosions were asmon here in Nouvelle Vague as death and starvation, but something was different this time.

    A heavy, loud boom, and an unusually longsting earthquake.

    "Uaahhhh! Run! Herees the tsunami ofva!"

    "Huh! Something''s not right with this explosion!"

    "Everyone out of the area!"

    Guards and prisoners alike scramble backward.

    The falling rocks and churning waves ofva were signs that something was about to happen, and rightly so.

    But there''s one man who doesn''t back down, and instead steps forward.

    Vikir.

    While everyone else was running around in panic, Vikir was staring at a glowing blue light between the waves ofva and the copsing bedrock.

    He sees theva, extremely hot and glowing blue.

    It was shaped like a rounded sphere.

    A being that shakes the earth with a roar, Vikir muttered in a low voice towards this blueva sphere.

    "...I found it. Poseidon."

    The hope of humanity, the Allied forces'' counterattack.

    It was a wonderful discovery after about two years of being trapped in Nouvelle Vague.

 Chapter 374: Poseidon (2)

    <h4>Chapter 374: Poseidon (2)</h4>

    "What''s going on?"

    Lieutenant Colonel Bastille, who had primary jurisdiction over the entirebor camp, rushed over.

    A guard with the rank of captain pointed down into the depths of the pit.

    "There''s been a mysterious explosion in the center of the Level Nine sector."

    "It''s different in scale from the previous incidents. It seems to be a sign of something bad."

    "We are not yet able to investigate because of theva and gas, which could cause further copse."

    After receiving his subordinates'' report, Lieutenant Colonel Bastille said coldly.

    "Send a few prisoners to investigate."

    "What? Ha, but if we go down there now, there''s room for us to get caught up in a further copse...."

    "That''s why I say send some prisoners. If you promise to exempt them from a day''sbor and throw in a few crusts of bread, they''ll volunteer."

    The guards fell silent at Bastille''s words.

    No prisoner would sell their lives for a day''s rest and a few crusts of bread.

    But there was a surprising volunteer.

    "I''ll go."

    Vikir took a step forward.

    Lieutenant Colonel Bastille flinched.

    "You? What do you have up your sleeve?"

    "Nothing much. I just want some bread."

    "...hmm."

    Lieutenant Colonel Bastille thought for a moment.

    But Vikir had been a model prisoner for the past two years, with no incidents since he first arrived.

    Bastille finally nodded.

    "Good. Do you think you can make it down through that fire and gas?"

    "Only if you can get me out of my BDISSEM restraints."

    "Don''t y games with me...."

    "Just kidding. Bye."

    Vikir stepped into the pit with a dry joke.

    Gurgling!

    The gas storms, mes, andva that erupted from within the surface were more than even Vikir could handle.

    It was at times like this that the physical and magical resistance stats he had maxed out in the Hell Tree came in handy.

    "Hey, Decarabia, can you put up a shield?"

    [I''m out of mana, so I can only do a little].

    "That should be enough."

    At Vikir''s words, Dekarabia raised a small barrier, covering a few meters around him.

    Vikir, hiding behind a curtain of fire and gas, moved forward, shaking offva that was up to his knees.

    ''...I can''t hold out much longer.''

    If he stayed in this ce with no mana, his legs would burn without a trace.

    Vikir paced, eager to find the cause of the explosion as quickly as possible.

    Suddenly, beyond the thick cloud of sulfurous gas, the roaring mes, and the brilliant red aurora ofva, a giant shadow loomed.

    "...!"

    Vikir knew at once that this was what he had been searching for.

    "This is the first time I''ve seen it with the naked eye."

    But there was no doubt nheless.

    In the heart of Nouvelle Vague, in the deepest reaches of Level Nine.

    Is this the only ''sphere of blueva'' that exists here?

    Vikir quietly raised his head to take in the sight before him.

    An oval-shaped sphere, about five meters in diameter, covered in blue mes and roiling, it looked like the ''egg'' of something.

    "I found it. Poseidon."

    Vikir reached out and stroked its surface once.

    Underneath the sphere, roots made of aura extended out from beneath the ground, and they resisted violently at the slightest impact.

    kwakwang! kuleuleung! uleung!

    Because of that resistance, it seemed like explosions were urring all around.

    ...peog!

    Vikir stretched out his fist and punched Poseidon''s outer surface.

    Then, something amazing happened.

    Swoosh!

    Poseidon absorbed the impact from Vikir''s fist.

    Wriggle!

    The blue mes that had been roaring grew ever so slightlyrger.

    The surrounding light also seemed to grow a little brighter.

    "I see. It grows by absorbing external shocks."

    Vikir nodded.

    Finding this Poseidon is not the end of the story. In the future, we need to provide numerous shocks to grow.

    ''... They don''t call it "synchronized" for nothing.''

    Vikir stroked his chin.

    Just like discovering Poseidon, making this thing work was not a solo effort.

    ''But once you''ve discovered it, 90% of the work has been aplished. The rest is just a matter of time.''

    Vikir, of course, had a n for the future.

    ...cheolpeog! ...cheolpeog! ...cheolpeog! ...cheolpeog!

    Vikir turned and ran back through theva swamp.

    Eventually, everyone who saw Vikir rising above the rocky area was frightened.

    "Oh, you''re not dead?"

    "How did you get all the way inside that hell?"

    "Didn''t you juste back from the entrance?"

    The others chattered, but Vikir didn''t care.

    "There''s a strange mass ofva inside. It seems to absorb shock."

    "...Absorb shock?"

    Lt. Colonel Bastille looked impressed.

    It might be better if it was something that exploded, but materials that absorb shock are not very pleasant.

    This is true from the perspective of having to dig down a tunnel.

    Then, as the gas and oil vapor cleared, the blue orb Vikir had spoken of became more clearly visible.

    Searing mes, roots of auras reaching beneath the ground, and a mysterious entity that explodes with a loud bang at the slightest touch.

    Lt. Colonel Bastille raised his greatsword and struck.

    kwa-kwakwakwakwakwang!

    The blue sphere absorbed even the aura of a Graduator Superior without difficulty.

    "It''s true! It absorbed all of Lt. Colonel Bastille''s attacks!"

    "Huh? Doesn''t that lump... seem to have gotten a little bigger than before?"

    "It looks like an egg or something."

    Even the guards were agitated.

    Now that the mysterious sphere was stuck in the middle of thebor camp, it was difficult to do their work.

    Even if they wanted to dig around it, they couldn''t because it absorbed all the impacts from pickaxes, shovels, and other tools.

    Even worse, the veins of the aura, which wereid down like roots, would explode in a massive explosion if they were disturbed.

    Lt. Colonel Bastille grunted.

    "If an explosion of this magnitude can be caused by merely touching one of those twig-like veins,... it''s going to be a mess if the main body of that lump explodes."

    At best, the entire Nouvelle Vague fortress would be blown away.

    Worst of all, it could reawaken an extinct volcano that was thought to be dead and begin to erupt again.

    "Damn it. Nouvelle Vague is not a fully extinct volcano."

    But the veins of aura around Bastille, the sulfurous gas, steam, and bubbling magma that were erupting in real time, were more than a nce away.

    Until now, he had assumed that it was an eruption of old geothermal heat trapped in the ground, but he might have to revise his thinking.

    "Call in the geologists. We need to do a full survey to see if Nouvelle Vague is really an extinct volcano...."

    But Lt. Colonel Bastille''s order was unfinished.

    "What nonsense."

    From behind him, arge man in a dark uniform walked out.

    Colonel D''Ordume. The moment he appeared, Lt. Colonel Bastille straightened up and saluted.

    D''Ordume returned the salute with a wave of his hand and got straight to the point.

    "Tell me again what you said earlier. You''re going to do the whole survey again?"

    "Yes! It''s none other than the unidentified object found in thebor camp on Level 9...."

    D''Ordume frowned at Lt. Colonel Bastille''s words.

    "Let me take a look."

    D''Ordume followed Bastille''s lead down to the blue sphere.

    "If you hit it, it absorbs the impact, and if you touch the veins of the aura underneath, you get a loud explosion, which is also absorbed by the sphere. If you mess with it too much, the sphere might release all the shock it''s umted at once. If Nouvelle Vague is a dormant volcano, not an extinct one, then...."

    "Nonsense. Nouvelle Vague is definitely an extinct volcano."

    D''Ordume dismissed Bastille''s words.

    Then he spoke again.

    "Don''t prolong the construction period over something you''re not even sure of. Do you have any idea how long it will take to conduct a full survey again? At least a decade."

    "Ha, but...."

    "What about the astronomical budget that will be incurred if the construction period is extended? Will you be responsible for that?"

    "...."

    When Bastille shut up, D''Ordume drove a wedge.

    "Labor will proceed as scheduled. You will meet the construction deadline at all costs."

    "...."

    "This is all for your own good. The sooner Level Ten is finished, the sooner I''ll be ahead of that Souar��, that bitch, if I be the head of the prison, and the sooner you''ll be promoted to warden."

    At D''Ordume''s words, Bastille nodded.

    "You''re right, Colonel."

    "Yeah. If there''s going to be an explosion, it''s going to be a bunch of scumbag prisoners dying anyway. If you''re really worried, tell the guards to stay away from that area if they can."

    As he spoke, D''Ordume''s eyes glowed.

    "Personnel evaluation season ising soon."

    "...."

    "Souar��, that bitch is keeping the old man Angajumang in solitary confinement, and she''s always getting near perfect personnel scores for that alone."

    "...."

    "Me, on the other hand, I''m the one who takes the initiative to put down the prisoners'' riots, I go out and fetch food, and I always do my job as the warden''s closest confidante."

    "...."

    "If I and that Souar�� bitch have simr quarterly personnel scores, Why should I be a candidate for the next prison director along with that bitch?"

    It was the first time Lt. Colonel Bastille had ever heard D''Ordume talk this much.

    With a click and a grinding of teeth, he finished.

    "So the Level Ten project I''ve been entrusted with must bepleted on time, no matter what. It''s the only way we can stay ahead of Souar��, and when I''m the next warden director, you''re the next warden. Do you understand what I mean?"

    "I only ept it."

    D''Ordume nodded in satisfaction at Bastille''s polite reply, then disappeared down the hallway.

    Behind him, Bastille sighed in unease.

    ''I have a bad feeling about this. Once that thing goes off, it won''t just blow up the Nouvelle Vague, it might even affect the climate on the ground....''

    Lt. Colonel Bastille thought to himself for a long time.

    But then he shook his head.

    ''I know. Worrying too much is my weakness.''

    Lt. Colonel Bastille decided to resume hisbor the next day.

    He had no time to worry about it now that he was involved in a political battle between D''Ordume and Souar��, the next in line for the head of the five wardens.

    ...and.

    ''This is good for me in many ways.''

    Standing behind a stone pir, listening to their conversation, Vikir quietly melted into the darkness.

    With a bag of bread in his hand as a reward.

 Chapter 375: The Hounds of Nouvelle Vague (1)

    <h4>Chapter 375: The Hounds of Nouvelle Vague (1)</h4>

    Nouvelle Vague, a ce the world has abandoned.

    In this remote area 10,000 meters below the sea, there is only one day warm.

    It was Christmas Day at the end of the year. Lun''s birthday. It''s the only day of the year when prisoners are allowed a holiday.

    The meals were different.

    Instead of the usual pickled sardines and brick-hard ck bread, they are served pork jerky and soft white bread.

    For the first time in a long time, the prisoners eat in a proper dining room, not on the floor of thebor camp. Candles burn on leaden candlesticks, and meat and bread are served in a gloomy, shadowy stone room.

    For once, the guards do not interfere, standing at a distance with their weapons slung behind their backs.

    The prisoners are happy with the chewy, savory pork jerky and half-dried white bread, as if they had everything in the world.

    "I survived a year looking forward to this day."

    "It''s a good thing I''m alive."

    "The most pitiful are those who died yesterday. Cough, cough-"

    Then.

    "Kurukuru... get the fuck out of here."

    A level 8 prisoner shouted.

    When he thrusted his huge body at them, the prisoners scrambled to their feet and out of the way.

    They were afraid of his poison, which hadn''t been disinfected by the three sulfur showers they''d undergone during the entry.

    "Did you hear? That bastard can''t control his gue."

    "That''s right. Anyone whoes in contact with his saliva, blood, or other bodily fluids gets the gue."

    "Look at those spots on his skin. Whether it''s poison or gue, it''s really nasty."

    But their rant didn''t go unnoticed by the other prisoner.

    "Kurukuru, you stupid bastards. I walked in here on my own two feet, and I''m going to get out one day, I am saying that my Queen will take such action!"

    He''s been saying this for two years now.

    At first, it was a sincere belittling of others, but as time went on, there was a hint of madness in his words.

    Now it sounded like some sort of sinister incantation.

    Some of the prisoners frowned at his salivating rantings, others were horrified. But they all agreed that they didn''t want to be around him.

    Soon, there was an empty circle around him in the dining hall.

    With a satisfied smile on his face, he sat down and chewed on his pork jerky and white bread.

    ...But?

    Suddenly, he felt someone behind him.

    Just one. Only one prisoner hadn''t moved from his seat.

    It was Vikir.

    Sakkuth asked in disbelief.

    "Kid, aren''t you afraid of my gue?"

    "...."

    Vikir didn''t bother to answer.

    Sakkuth would probably faint if he knew that Madame''s poison, far more terrifying than the gue, was coursing through the veins of Vikir''s body.

    dalgeg- dalkkag-

    Vikir finished his meal in silence.

    It was a much different meal than the one he would have at the Colosseo Academy.

    Then, at the table in front of him, he heard a group of prisoners talking amongst themselves.

    " ... is this real?"

    "It''s real, though the guards have seen it all and it''s tattered."

    "Wow- you really got that?"

    "Hehehe �C you can pick up a lot of stuff when you''re cleaning out the restroom septic tanks. More good stuff than you think."

    It turns out that the prisoner who was cleaning the septic tank had picked up something good.

    Assuming it was, at best, a cigarette, a watch, gambling paraphernalia, or cheap drugs, Vikir tried to ignore it.

    However, his ears perked up.

    "Holy shit. You picked up a ''newspaper''."

    A newspaper. The only way to get news of the world here in Nouvelle Vague!

    Newspapers are incredibly valuable in Nouvelle Vague.

    Common sense dictates that these few pieces of paper must have traveled an incredibly long journey to reach the Nouvelle Vague.

    Unless it is brought in by one of the guards on an extremely rare asions when they go out on the ground, receiving a newspaper on a regr basis is a luxury that can only be dreamed of.

    But apart from the guards, there are always prisoners who long for news from the outside world.

    Vikir was one of them.

    Drat-

    Pulling back his chair, Vikir walked over to the conversing prisoners.

    "Hey."

    Vikir''s voice startled the prisoners, who were busy talking amongst themselves.

    "Yes, yes!"

    They were Level One prisoners, low-level prisoners who could get out of this hellish ce three yearster.

    However, they were so weak and frail that most of them lived for less than a year before dying.

    Worst of all, if Vikir, a Level Nine prisoner, were to stir up a ruckus, they would die.

    But Vikir didn''t raise his voice.

    "Newspapers and such will only cause trouble if you have them. Treasure you can''t handle is a curse."

    "...."

    "Why don''t you trade it for this?"

    Vikir held out a bag of ck bread, a prize he''d won not long ago.

    The prisoners'' eyes widened at the sight of it.

    Vikir teased in a low voice.

    "I''m sure you''ve all read the newspaper anyway."

    "Oh, I haven''t seen it yet... because I''m blind."

    "Then why don''t you let me read it and then I''ll tell you what it says?"

    That was a deal not to be refused.

    The prisoner frowned, and then pulled from his pocket a finely folded piece of yellow paper.

    "It''s a little smelly because I picked it out of the shit, hehe-"

    Vikir handed over the bread and took the newspaper.

    At first nce, the newspaper was not in pristine condition.

    Most of it was torn, so the only intact parts were the first and second pages, and even then, only the headlines were recognizable due to smudged or torn text in the middle.

    Worst of all, it was dated six months earlier.

    ''I used to look at newspapers before they were even published.''

    Looking at the newspapers that he used to tirelessly create during his time at Coliseo Academy''s newspaper department, Ryukeion, and that he used to have ess to even before they were published, it was refreshing to see them being treated with such respect (even six months old!).

    Parak.

    Vikir scrutinized the paper.

    [Inside...] ... pce guard, raiding...

    -The Usher family... a mysterious attack... heavy damage... authorities have identified one suspect... the victim, Madeline... seriously injured, but not life-threatening...

    The [sole] victim of a series of attacks on...

    -Don Quixote Family... another mystery... attack... Count Pasamonte... minor injuries... authorities have identified one suspect... believed to be the same...

    [Exclusive] Suspected assassin arrested...

    -Leviathan Family... Attack on Patriarch Hobbs... med on the recent surge in demonic activity... Mysterious gates and strange dungeons popping up all over the Leviathan Family estate... An empire-wide investigation has beenunched... The Night Hounds... A suspicious organization... A citywide scare...

    It''s a short list, but it gives you an idea.

    The first and second pages usually contain the biggest events in society, so here''s a glimpse of what''s going on on the ground.

    ''The Usher family, Don Quixote, and the Leviathan family have been attacked, one after the other. One attacker? Who?''

    As Vikir scrolled through the article, his attention was drawn to one ce.

    ''... A series of unexined gates and strange dungeons.''

    There were other odd keywords, like the Night Hounds, but the first one caught Vikir''s attention.

    ''The Ten Corpses have begun in earnest.''

    The gates of destruction were already showing signs of opening.

    No, considering this was already six months old....

    ''We''d better hurry.''

    The time of destruction would be hastened.

    Perhaps it was the butterfly effect of Vikir''s elimination of the Ten Corpse so far, and the messages he''d left to Cindy Wendy, Isabe, and others before his imprisonment in Nouvelle Vague.

    -''I have always seen you during my time at the academy. You are not a viin. That much is certain.''

    -''Seeing the reality of the demons that were under my nose just a moment ago, I now know everything for sure. You must live. Why have I only realized this now?''

    -''As soon as I get back, I''ll show them the evidence and ask for a retrial.''

    -''I have orders from my lord to break you out of prison, Vikir, even if it means sinking the ship.''

    The strict Banshee Professor, the single-minded Archbishop Mozgus, Lovebad whom he had never met, and even the Baskerville Hound, Countess Isabe.

    Given the attitudes of the Morg, Quovadis, Bourgeois, and Baskerville escorts at the end, it was easy to imagine what must have happened between the Seven Families after Vikir''s trip to Nouvelle Vague.

    ''I can see why they would be so rash to open the gates of destruction.''

    It''s probably a political and strategic decision. They operate with demonicmon sense, not humanmon sense.

    ...Thud!

    Vikir closed the newspaper and washed his hands in the falling water from the ceiling.

    ''I need more information from the outside world.''

    There''s no point in searching for a newspaper when you don''t know when you''ll get one.

    There is only one surefire way to get information from the outside world.

    ''You have to go out there yourself.''

    He''s already found his core purpose ofing to Nouvelle Vague, Poseidon.

    That alone is more than 90% of the way there.

    Vikir was starting to get tired of the heavy restraints on his wrists and ankles.

    ''... There''s no need to wear this prison uniform anymore.''

    The dawn of the prison break was dawning in earnest.

 Chapter 376: The Hounds of Nouvelle Vague (2)

    <h4>Chapter 376: The Hounds of Nouvelle Vague (2)</h4>

    The dreamlike Christmas was over in the blink of an eye.

    And then they were back to the same old hellishbor.

    ...ttang! ...kkaang! ...ttang!

    Everywhere, prisoners were breaking stones and digging up soil. The sounds of sulfurous gas, steam, andva were erupting.

    Since the discovery of the mysterious explosives in thebor camp on Level Nine, the work had changed a bit.

    Where the guards had previously formed a panopticon-like formation to keep an eye on the prisoners, this time the guards have moved to the perimeter instead of the center.

    This was due to Colonel D''Ordume''s orders to keep the guards as far away from the explosives as possible.

    It was also a strategic move to take advantage of the temporary chaos to make it easier to subdue rioting prisoners with concentrated firepower.

    However, it is inevitable that there would be errors,rge and small, in the process of changing the original system.

    The response of the guards, who would normally be able to intervene immediately in the event ofziness or disputes among the inmates, was slowed down even slightly as they adjusted to the change.

    "...."

    Vikir, who had noticed the change, had his eye on a figure since earlier.

    "...Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."

    Sakkuth. He''d been acting a little out of sorts since they''d met at the diner on Christmas Day yesterday.

    His gaze, which usually darts from top to bottom in a condescending manner, is now directed from bottom to top.

    His bloodshot eyes, the corner of his tmouth twitching, the profanity he recited like a mantra and his obsession with "him" made him look like a definite maniac.

    And before anyone knew it, it was lunchtime.

    While all the prisoners were enjoying their ten-minute break, Sakkuth walked into a canyon between the red rock mountains and pulled at his hair.

    "What happened? How did this happen....?"

    He was biting down his fingers beyond his nails.

    "Queen, boss, master, what''s going on, you said you''d get me out, why haven''t I heard from you for two years, you told me to go into Nouvelle Vague and serve ''Him'', you said you''d make sure I go out. Of course, I didn''t make it into Level Nine because I wasn''t good enough, but that doesn''t mean you''re going to leave me like this. Why aren''t youing to rescue me? When am I going to get out of here, from this hellish servitude, please...."

    The mumbling didn''t stop, despite the fact that the first word was nearly torn from his fingers and covered in blood.

    Vikir, meanwhile, was listening to the mutterings from a distance.

    ''...It tastes good.''

    He was always a bit of a weirdo, but not that weird.

    Apparently, like Vikir, he had infiltrated this ce with a purpose.

    But there was a crucial difference between Vikir and Sakkuth.

    Vikir doesn''t count on others to help him achieve his goals. He does everything by himself and in silence.

    Sakkuth, on the other hand, is desperately waiting for someone else to help him achieve his goals.

    This created a huge difference between the two.

    ''This is what separates the predator from the prey.''

    Vikir leaned against the wall and watched Sakkuth in silence.

    Meanwhile, Sakkuth was bing increasingly unstable.

    "If it''s been a while and I haven''t heard from you, that means you''ve abandoned me. You''ve abandoned me. No news from the outside world, that''s it. It''s because I didn''t make it to Level Nine. That''s why the Boss, the Queen, abandoned me."

    Just then.

    TOOOOOO-!

    A horn red, signaling the resumption ofbor.

    He could hear the guards shouting.

    "Here we go!"

    "Hurry up and get to work, scum!"

    "Do you want to get fucked! Get moving!"

    The shouts further stirred up the already unsteady state of Sakkuth.

    "...."

    With his lips pressed tightly together, his eyes were bloodshot.

    One of the guards, a lieutenant, walked by and said.

    "Hey, what are you doing there, get to work!"

    And the words hit the nail on the head.

    "kkeuaaaaaaaagh!"

    A sudden, screaming seizure.

    He turned his head, rolling his bulging eyeballs, and bared his teeth at the terrified guard.

    wadeug- puhwaag!

    He bit down on the tip of his own tongue, and a huge fountain of blood began to spew from his mouth.

    A stench that stung the nose. A reddish mist filled with gue aura scattered around.

    "Uh-uh!"

    The first guard to shout at Sakkuth, shocked and took a step back, not knowing what was going on.

    Only then did Vikir take his back off the rock wall.

    ''It has begun.''

    It was time for the first step of the Nouvelle Vague prison break.

    * * *

    A riot by an inmate on the 8th floor of Level 8 was a big enough deal.

    It would be hard enough to deal with the guards, let alone the lower ranking guards, the so-called lieutenants.

    But the guards were not in a good position right now.

    Colonel D''Ordume''s orders had reversed the guard ranks in the Panopticon structure, and the guards hadn''t yet fully adjusted to the new system.

    As a result, most of the guards stationed around Sakkuth were junior officers.

    At most, there was a captain, a dozen or so lieutenants, and all the rest were ensigns.

    "It''s Level 8 Sakkuth! He''s started a riot!"

    "We''re way out of our league!"

    "Damn it, we should at least have Lieutenant Colonel Bastille here!"

    Sakkuth''s strength was one thing, but the fountain of gue blood he spewed was another.

    Moreover, his beastly roar, glowing madly in the red mist, was perfect for creating an atmosphere of fear.

    "Uh, what do we do?" naked shakily one of the guards, who had just earned the rank of captain.

    But there was not a single guard here with a higher rank than him.

    For the first time, he had to realize that a higher rank wasn''t always better.

    Right then.

    "We need to buy time."

    Someone bravely stepped forward.

    Kirko. Lieutenant Kirko Grimm.

    Promoted from Ensign to Lieutenant due to her dazzling performance, she red at those who outranked her.

    "While someone stays behind to deal with that prisoner, let''s all disperse and call for the higher ranking guards, that''s the only way."

    "Ha, but who''s going to stay here to deal with that monster, he looks like he''s going to go crazy right now."

    No matter how much he''s wearing BDISSEM handcuffs and shackles, the gue aura he emits is still intimidating.

    No one would rush to fight him, not knowing what kind of gue he might catch.

    Then.

    "I''ll stay."

    Kirko said firmly.

    She drew a long sword from her belt and slung it over her shoulder.

    "I''ll buy as much time as I can, and you, seniors, bring in someone capable of resolving this situation as soon as possible."

    At Kirko''s words, the other guards began to look at each other.

    "Uh, yeah. If it''s Kirko, then...."

    "She''s only a lieutenant, but she''s better than most of the captains."

    "That''s right, she''s as good as a senior officer."

    "Good, Kirko, I want you to stay behind. We''ll go get some reinforcements!"

    "Your brave sacrifice will not be forgotten! It will be reflected in your performance review at the end of the month!"

    With that, everyone runs off, not sure who''s first.

    Kirko, alone, with no juniors or subordinates, stood watching his seniors andrades leave.

    And then.

    huug- hug-

    The sound of ragged, anxious breathing came from behind her.

    Swallowing hard, Kirko slowly turned her head.

    Behind her stood a gue monster, probably crazy.

    And for Kirko, with her skills, it would be impossible to fully subdue him.

    ''But it must be done.''

    It''s better for one of us to venture out than for all of us to die.

    She would rather perish violently here than engage in collusion among those who care about each other''s interests.

    Having her mind made up, Kirko looked back with a fierce re.

    Then, through the red mist, she saw a blurry shadow approaching.

    At the same time, Kirko''s eyes widened.

    "...?"

    Yes.

    Shaky legs, anxious breathing.

    It was Garm Nord, a.k.a. "Stupid Garm," who remained behind Kirko.

    "You, why didn''t you go?"

    "How can I give up my courage and go on...?"

    The words themselves weren''t bad, but his voice was as shaky as his legs, which didn''t make him sound very cool.

    Kirko let out a heavy sigh.

    "Kurururururu......."

    A twisted, maniacalugh came from somewhere.

    Kirko and Garm turned in surprise, and there stood Sakkuth, tears streaming from his eyes.

    His eyes were so wide that they were torn open. His mouth was torn open to the base of both ears and dirty drool was dripping from it.

    "That''s it. Just kill them all and get out of here. Kurururu-"

    He looked like he''d gonepletely insane.

 Chapter 377: The Hounds of Nouvelle Vague (3)

    <h4>Chapter 377: The Hounds of Nouvelle Vague (3)</h4>

    "Kururururu...."

    There was no focus in Sakkuth''s pupils.

    His face was turned to the side, like an owl''s, and froth and drool were dripping from the corners of his mouth.

    "I don''t need any of this. I''m going to kill you, and then I''m going to Level 9, so the ''boss'' will have to look at me again."

    The targets of his insane gaze were Kirko and Garm.

    Thwack.

    Kirko held her long sword horizontally, prepared to jump out at a moment''s notice. But Garm was still shaking and sulking.

    "Ki-Kirko. Don''t you think we should run away now?"

    "Then the damage will also affect the guards in other districts. I don''t know if it''s other prisoners, but if it''s him, he might spread a gue throughout the region."

    "Well, but...."

    "If you''re scared, you go alone, idiot, I''ll fight."

    Kirko nced at Garm in a pathetic way, then fixed her gaze back on the scene before her eyes.

    The gaseous aura of the Expert was at the tip of her sword.

    It was so dense that it looked like it could turn into liquid at any moment.

    Seeing it, Sakkuthughed with his mouth open.

    "Kurururu- not bad for a bitch born and bred in Nouvelle Vague."

    Instantly, Kirko''s expression changed.

    A tiny crack appeared in her eyes, which had been tense but now radiated nothing but cold, merciless energy.

    And Sakkuth didn''t miss it.

    "About twenty years ago, I believe, there was an incident where a prisoner forcefully degraded a guard, which is why the guards at Nouvelle Vague are so sensitive to the lower pole."

    "...."

    "Kuru-kuru-kuru- I heard that a child was born and was like a by-product of that unpleasant process."

    The voice was touching a trauma hidden deep within Kirko''s mind.

    It backfired, and Kirko''s anger exploded.

    "Don''t talk nonsense about prisoners."

    With that, Kirko''s longsword shot out like an arrow.

    The aura, which has the properties of a gas, spreads widely in front and cuts and stabs as wide an area as possible.

    It was an effective method for arge prisoner like Sakkuth.

    However, it was merely a form of corporal punishment that used wide, shallow cuts to create fear by drawing bleeding and cuts over as wide an area as possible, and that was not a good way to quell the riot of a prisoner prepared to die.

    "Kururururu!"

    Sakkuth leaned forward, unperturbed by the multitude of strikes that dug into his entire body.

    "You''re like a frog born and raised in a well, you''ve never seen the outside world, right? After all, what right does a bitch born of rape have to walk on this earth? You''re useless to everyone, so you''re stuck in this deep sea!"

    Sakkuth chuckled and reached out a thick arm to grab Kirko by the scruff of the neck.

    "...ouch!"

    Kirko tried to pull back, but Sakkuth grabbed her by the cor.

    His teeth, sharp as nails, turned toward Kirko.

    Kirko closed her eyes tightly for a moment.

    ...at that time.

    "Take back that statement!"

    A baton was shot from the other side.

    Pug!

    It snapped, breaking Sakkuth''s teeth with a loud crack.

    "Huh?"

    Sakkuth staggered backward, clutching his mouth with both hands.

    On the floor, Kirko looked up, dazed.

    There, unexpectedly, was the back of Garm''s head.

    In a moment of confusion, Garm bravely stepped forward and swung his triple baton as if to protect Kirko.

    It would have been more impressive if his arms and legs hadn''t been shaking like aspens.

    But Garm''s voice was not trembling.

    "Kirko is a worthy and honorable fellow, not someone a scumbag like you would dare to insult!"

    "...What!"

    For a moment, Kirko''s earlobes turned red.

    However, Garm didn''t notice as he was too focused on Sakkuth, who was standing up in front of him.

    "Kurururu...."

    Sakkuth spat out his broken teeth andughed.

    Then he red at Garm through his chapped lips.

    "''Stupid Garm, you''re feeling especially brave today for a stupid dog, is it because I messed with your crush?"

    "...No, that''s not it!"

    "You''ve got a lot of nerve on the subject of stupid guards buying prisoners lunch, don''t you? Does your crush know that you''re a weak, cowardly, unqualified piece of shit of guard?"

    "No, no, no!"

    "Kuru-kuru-kuru- Nope. You and that bitch have a lot inmon when ites to giving something to a prisoner. Be it bread or a body. Kurururu!"

    "...i, ig!"

    Garm raised his triple baton and infused it with mana.

    The mana, overheated by his anger, was shaking unsteadily.

    Then.

    "Stop."

    There was a hand on Garm''s shoulder.

    It was Kirko, standing beside him with a calm demeanor.

    "Don''t get caught up in the mind games. He can''t use mana. He''s just trying to shake ourposure."

    "Ugh! Is that what he''s doing?"

    "Yeah. Let''s do something about it, just the two of us."

    Garm''s face instantly brightened at Kirko''s calm tone.

    "Yes! I will. You''re amazing, Kirko!"

    "Ugh, you idiot...."

    However, looking at the rare smile on Kirko''s usually grumbling lips, she didn''t seem to be in a very bad mood.

    ...However.

    This wasn''t the kind of frenzied battle that usually happens in heroic novels or shonenics.

    peoeog!

    With a loud sweep of his arm, Sakkuth sent the BDISSEM chain flying. It cracked like a whip.

    Kirko''s face, which had been showing a slight smile just a moment ago, turned sideways.

    Quack!

    Unable to even scream on the spot, Kirko fell out of the way, hitting her head on a rock, her neck twisting in a strange direction.

    chiiiiig...

    Red blood spurted out of her head, pressed against the hot ground.

    "...?"

    Garm looked dumbfounded, as if he hadn''t yet understood what had just happened.

    Sakkuth walked in front of her, giggling brightly.

    "Oh? What is it, she''s alive, what a great woman."

    He pursed his lips as he watched Kirko squirm intermittently.

    "It''s a quality with a promising future. If she survives that blow, she''ll be quite the hero when she''s older."

    At this point, a sinister and unholy glow of lust emanated from Sakkuth''s eyes.

    "It would be a good idea to trample on such a hero-level bud in advance. It seems that you''ve got a pretty good face and body too...."

    But Sakkuth didn''t go any further.

    Chaang!

    Garm. He was standing in front of the fallen Kirko with a baton.

    "You will nevery a hand on Kirko."

    "Kurururu-"

    "I will defend her with my life, for she is someone I admire and respect...."

    But Garm was cut off mid-sentence.

    This is because Sakkuth threw his fist and blew away the man as if he was annoyed.

    St!

    Garm crashed into the rocks andid there like a marite with a broken string.

    Sakkuth chuckled loudly.

    "You talk a lot for a scum who hasn''t even be a lieutenant yet. I''ve already risked my life. I need to get to Level 9 and get my boss to trust me again."

    He stalked toward Kirko, his eyes bloodshot.

    But.

    Pfft.

    An unexpected triple baton hit Sakkuth''s shoulder from behind.

    It was a blow that was clearly wielded by Garm.

    "...?"

    Sakkuth turned his head to look at Garm in disbelief.

    A cracking sound escaped Garm''s throat.

    "Kirko, don''t... touch... her...."

    Viper-like veins sprouted on Sakkuth''s forehead.

    "You troublesome bastard."

    Sakkuth raised his elbow and smashed it into Garm''s jaw.

    Thud.

    All the bones in the jaw shattered, teeth popping out.

    Droplets of blood scattered in all directions.

    But.

    Thud!

    Garm copsed, still clinging to Sakkuth''s ankles.

    "Kir...ko...don''t...."

    "Ah~ You''re so persistent. I was just trying to have some fun with a girl for a change...."

    Garm squirmed on the floor, but Sakkuth looked down at the man that was spewing killing intent to him as if it were insignificant.

    He bared his bloodied teeth and smirked.

    "Sweetheart, when you spew out killing intent towards someone, you really have to have a strong, focused intention to kill them and stab them in one ce. That way, at least my skin will feel itchy. You can''t do anything with that kind of dirty dog ??mentality. Do you understand?"

    With those words, Sakkuth turned away, shrugging off Garm''s hand. It wasn''t even worth stomping on.

    "Kurururu, now-"

    Sakkuth stretched out his hands toward Kirko, who had fallen to the ground.

    ...No, he tried to stretch.

    Kuoooooo!

    If only it hadn''t been for the explosion from behind him and for the killing intent that looked like it was going to rip his throat out at any moment.

    "...hugh!?"

    Without realizing it, he covered his throat with his hand.

    The killing intent that had just been sted from his back was beyond his imagination, it was something that would not only shred his throat and heart, but would pierce his entire body dozens or hundreds of times.

    He turned his sweaty face to stare at the ce where it hade from.

    Stupid dog, stupid Garm. Behind the fallen lowly guard stood another prisoner of simr size.

    "Is this really a way to radiate killing intent?"

    A terrifying burst of killing intent was emanating from him.

    Vikir. The Night Hound.

    He was watching everything from behind.

 Chapter 378: The Hound of the Nouvelle Vague (4)

    <h4>Chapter 378: The Hound of the Nouvelle Vague (4)</h4>

    Sakkuth froze in the presence of the killing intent, a killing intent that could not even begin topare to the killing intent that Garm had exuded just moments before.

    It was so thick that it was almost visualized in the target''s eyes.

    It was the shape of a ck dog, with bulging eyes, gaping maw, and razor-sharp teeth. It was like a zing fire, ready to bite and tear the world apart.

    And then, slowly, the one who exudes such deep killing intent revealed himself.

    The dog that emerged from behind the gutted dog was no ordinary dog. It was a hound, It was also a hellish dog that specializes in biting and killing demons.

    Vikir''s red pupils reflected the shrinking of the dog.

    "Stop right there."

    The words were spoken in a calm tone, but there was a frighteningly understated violence in his voice.

    Sakkuth recognized it and took a step back.

    Two years earlier, Sakkuth had been beaten to a pulp once while arguing with Vikir.

    ''You should know whether you''re the predator or the prey.''

    He still gritted his teeth when he remembered the days he spent trying to get the nails out of his mouth.

    However, he couldn''t just bend over and take it, because if he were to be imprisoned in Level 9, he would have to face it.

    Sakkuth opened his mouth to growl.

    "What if I don''t want to? I''m already in trouble. It can''t get any worse."

    "There''s a basement under the floor. If anything, I can show it to you now."

    "...."

    Vikir spoke so nonchntly.

    But knowing how much raw madness and violence lurked beneath that calm expression and soft-spoken tone, Sakkuth couldn''t say more.

    Vikir does not bluff.

    If he says he''s going to show you the floor, he''s going to show you the floor, and if he says he''s going to show you the basement, he''s going to show you the basement.

    Sakkuth had seen Vikir for the past two years, and he knew it well.

    ''Crazy asshole. What kind of child''s eyes are those....''

    Vikir''s face is a typical nobleman''s handsome face, but his eyes are filled with hatred and the killing intent that has been brewing for centuries.

    How many fierce and deadly firing lines does one have to cross to have eyes like that?

    Even Sakkuth, who had been conducting illegal human experiments and genocide on countless human beings, could not have dared to imagine.

    Ugh.

    Sakkuth red at Vikir with bloodshot eyes.

    Then, through clenched teeth, he spoke.

    "I will not forget what happened today. I will retaliate."

    "If you can, do it. But you''ll have to do it fast."

    Vikir brought up a topic of interest.

    "I''m getting out of here today."

    "...what?"

    Sakkuth''s mouth opened halfway in disbelief.

    Then he started giggling.

    "Now I know you''re crazy. You''re going to break out of Nouvelle Vague?"

    "...."

    "What ''He'' could not do in the end is escape from prison. What kind of guy are you...."

    At this point, Vikir was getting impatient.

    "What makes you think jailbreaking is impossible?"

    "...what?"

    "Is that all you can think about?"

    He frowned at Vikir''s blunt question, not quite sure what he meant.

    Then Vikir smirked at him.

    "You think you''ve been abandoned, but you haven''t."

    "...?"

    "That''s because I think well of you."

    Vikir''s piercing gaze swept over Sakkuth''s entire body.

    "I''ve been watching you for the past two years. You''re weak, and you don''t have much muscle, but I like your brashness and your ability to take action. Your loyalty is strong."

    "What the hell are you talking about?"

    "You''ll find out soon enough. After I break you out of here."

    He clicked his tongue in disbelief, then turned away.

    "It''s a move that''s not worth dealing with. Don''t talk nonsense like jailbreak. Because one day I will definitely kill you with my own hands."

    But even as he spoke, there was a glint of agitation in Sakkuth''s eyes.

    Vikir caught the slightest shaking of his pupils with the unique sense of an experienced hound.

    tatag!

    Sakkuth quickly jumped out of the rocky canyon and ran beyond the wastnd.

    He spewed out a blood mist filled with gue aura.

    " ... You have the perfect personality to take advantage of."

    That was Vikir''s assessment of the vanishing figure.

    With that, Vikir turned his head to look at the two guards on the ground.

    Lieutenant Kirko.

    She was unconscious with arge wound on her forehead.

    Large eyes, a sharp nose, a stubborn-looking mouth, a face so pale it hadn''t seen the sun because of the depths of the ocean, and long hair down to her waist.

    This is a typical imperial beauty.

    If it weren''t for the uniform and the sword, she could have been mistaken for a courtesan.

    "Is she dead?"

    Vikir cupped the back of Kirko''s head and traced the veins in her neck.

    "...Ugh."

    Kirko''s brow furrowed and an involuntary groan escaped her.

    The blood had stopped, at least, though she was still breaking out in a cold sweat and her body temperature was dropping.

    A faint heartbeat told him that she was alive and well.

    ''She''s a lucky woman.''

    With proper hemostasis and prolonged rest, she should be able to recover without too much trouble.

    ...The problem was Garm.

    ''It''s bad.''

    At first nce, Garm''s condition was disastrous.

    His body had already been damaged beyond repair by his continuous clinging to Sakkuth.

    His bones had been crushed to powder, and the fragments had pierced through his intestines and burrowed deeply into them.

    Apart from that, the pressure inside his body had exploded, rupturing all of his vital organs that controlled his metabolism, and his body temperature was rising to an abnormal level, which seemed to be the result of being contaminated by the poisonous aura.

    Of course, if he were taken to the temple immediately and given intensive treatment by the high priests, he might be able to survive, but that was unlikely to happen here in Nouvelle Vague.

    Death. Inevitable.

    It seemed clear that if left like this, Garm would be dead within minutes.

    In excruciating pain, like every nerve in his body was on fire.

    Then.

    "I... Ki...."

    Garm opened his mouth to say to Vikir.

    "Are... you... there...?"

    Both of his eyeballs exploded, and he couldn''t see.

    He spoke bravely through his broken teeth and severed tongue.

    Vikir stood by his side and listened to hisst words.

    His hand iled weakly, grasping at thin air.

    It was like holding the hand of a loved one.

    "I wanted ... to show that... girl... the outside world... and... but...."

    Thest words didn''t flow into a nice,plete sentence like they do inics and novels.

    Instead, his voice broke off mid-sentence, haltingly and hollowly, and his body saggedpletely.

    "...."

    Vikir stood for a moment beside Garm''s limp body.

    Then he knelt down on one knee and closed his empty eyes.

    "That''s too bad, I didn''t mean for it to turn out this way."

    Vikir had only been aiming for the ��paulettes, insignia, rank, and military boots pinned to Garm''s clothing.

    But things took a turn for the worse, and this is what he ended up with.

    It wasn''t of his own making, but he couldn''t help but feel a bitter taste in his mouth.

    "Still, she''s alive because of your efforts. Rest in peace and go to a good ce."

    Vikir activated the power of ''Starvation Drought'' on Garm''s body.

    The Blood Daylily''s inherent power drained the blood and moisture from Garm''s body.

    The blood dries up and turns to dust.

    The flesh, bones, and organs shriveled up and slowly copsed.

    Tsutsutsutsutsuts...

    Soon, Garm''s body, crumbled to a fine powder, was blown away by the wind.

    The dreams and soul of a young man from a farawaynd, the earth, came to wander here in the distant deep sea.

    It was the simr fate of prisoners and guards, unable to leave this prison even in death.

    jjalgeng-

    Badges, ��paulettes, and rank insignia ttered to the floor.

    One by one, Vikir gathered up the uniform, boots, and insignia that Garm had left behind.

    Then.

    "...!"

    Vikir looked up.

    The sound of military footsteps wasing from beyond the steaming canyon.

    Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud.

    Perhaps reinforcements were on their way.

    Vikir nced up.

    Garm''s body warmth, which he thought had been blown away by the wind, was hovering around the fallen Kirko.

    After circling for a while, the wind swept through Kirko''s hair, wiping the sweat from her brow, and then disappeared beyond the mes.

    "...."

    Vikir made a short bow to where the wind hade from.

    Then he slipped out the other side of the canyon with Garm''s clothes at his side.

    Now that he had the materials he needed, there was no need to dy.

    Jailbreak. The hounds are out today.

    It was going to be done tonight.

 Chapter 379: The Hounds of Nouvelle Vague (5)

    <h4>Chapter 379: The Hounds of Nouvelle Vague (5)</h4>

    The night had been noisy all day due to a prisoner riot on Level 8.

    Numerous guards were injured and taken to the infirmary, while others were stranded in the rugged terrain of thebor camp and had to be searched.

    Even uninjured guards were hospitalized inrge numbers,ining of itching and fever after inhaling a thick mist of blood.

    The night shift was also put on emergency alert. The guards continued to be on watch duty, skipping the evening and early morning rounds of the day.

    There were too many vacancies.

    "What a shame that this happened just as we were reassigning the guards."

    "I think Colonel D''Ordume has shown poor judgment. He shouldn''t have pushed the construction so hard."

    "I''m sure it has something to do with the blueva that was found in the Level 10 sector."

    "By the way, is Nouvelle Vague really an extinct volcano? What if it turns out to be active?"

    "Well, it could blow up the whole of Nouvelle Vague, but that''s probably not going to happen."

    The two guards yawned and switched shifts.

    Neither of them was normally in charge of this section, but they had been forced to fill in when there was an opening in the schedule.

    ...And Vikir took advantage of the gap.

    He dipped the green vodka he''d stolen from the guards into a puddle of seawater on the floor of the stone chamber.

    The dark ink smeared into the water, turning the entire pool green.

    Vikir dipped his prisoner uniform in it.

    cheolpeog- cheolpeog- cheolpeog-

    After several dyes, the prisoner''s uniform waspletely green.

    The ck stripes that characterized the prisoner''s uniform were faintly visible, but it was hard to tell in the dim light of the Nouvelle Vague.

    Vikir nced over the bars and saw that the guards were preupied with something else, so he pped his hands together.

    Zeng-

    The BDISSEM''s handcuffs broke very easily.

    Vikir felt his mana return to his body and nodded.

    ''But what are these restraints made of to break so easily?''

    The exact material that makes up the BDISSEM is unknown.

    However, it was clear that it was influenced by Vikir''s title of Daylily Lumberjack from the Hell Tree.

    Eventually, Vikirpletely destroyed the BDISSEM restraints attached to his body, broke the iron bars, and came out.

    He began to walk slowly down the hallway.

    jeobeog- jeobeog- jeobeog- jeobeog-

    At that moment, one of the guards on duty in front of him noticed Vikir and his eyes widened.

    " ...? Why is a doctor here?"

    He must have seen Vikir''s green top and bottom and mistakenly assumed he was a doctor.

    After all, at this hour of the night, no one would think of a man wearing green and walking around outside without cuffs or chains on his body as a prisoner.

    Vikir replied nonchntly.

    "I''m the doctor in charge of quarantine for the Level 9 area, and I was just doing a final check because a Level 8 ''gue leper'' sprayed blood and saliva everywhere."

    "Oh, really?"

    The guard gave him a slightly suspicious nce, but he couldn''t imagine that the other man was a prisoner.

    "Well, I looked at yourst shift sheet and there''s no record of youing in or out...."

    "Is that so, it''s been a while since I''ve been in, I guess I lost track of time with all the quarantine, did everyone else leave first?"

    "Haha �C you have a sense of duty. I checked the previous shift log, and there was a quarantine, but it says you all left then... I''ve been busytely, so I must have missed one."

    The guard smiled, surprisingly pleased with what Vikir had said.

    Apparently, he was relieved to hear that the area where he was on duty had been thoroughly sanitized.

    "Yes, you may go. Please take care not to spread the gue to us"

    "Would it be possible?"

    Vikir gave the guard a curt nod and headed down the hall.

    ''...Good, I''ve made it through phase one without incident.''

    Poseidon found at the st point, Colonel D''Ordume''s reassignment of the guards, and a loudmotion.

    It was an exquisitebination of these three results.

    jeobeog- jeobeog- jeobeog- jeobeog-

    Walking through the corridors of the Nouvelle Vague at night was refreshing.

    The sense of freedom and liberation seemed to add a few centimeters to his height and limbs.

    But it was short-lived, as Vikir quietly made his way to a corner of the hallway.

    It was the supply room.

    It was an armory where the guards'' uniforms, epaulets, boots, and weapons were stored.

    ''The prisoners'' supplies are managed like a knife, but the guards'' supplies are surprisingly poor.''

    Items such as sardines, bread, and work tools issued to prisoners are meticulously inventoried and counted.

    But the supplies for the guards were surprisingly neglected.

    The military officer on guard duty in front of the warehouse sitszily, reading a novel whose pages are tattered from hundreds of readings.

    "''The Worn and Torn Newbie'' ... I must have read this one 200 times already. I can''t wait to see the movie."

    Just then, someone caught the military officer''s eye.

    His bushy hair and burn marks covered his face.

    It was Vikir, dressed in a guard''s uniform, torn and bloody in ces.

    [What a vile creature, scarring his face with burn marks. Well, with the basilisk''s super regenerative powers, it can always heal].

    Vikir could hear Decarabia whimpering in his chest.

    Vikir mmed his fist down on the chest te in frustration, silencing Decarabia.

    Then he pressed the brim of his hat against his mouth.

    "Greetings, sir. I was wondering if you had any spare uniforms."

    "Uh-huh-what, did you get ripped off in the riots too? I''m seeing a lot of ripped uniforms today."

    "Yeah. I was just getting back from being stranded under a crevasse in the canyon. I tried to repair the uniform, but it seemed like there was no way I could sew it...."

    "Yeah, well, in that case, you might as well just get issued a new one. Hold on. I''ll find one in a minute."

    The military officer closed the book he was reading and went into the storage room, rummaging around.

    He emerged with a guard''s uniform that fit Vikir perfectly, along with a full set of essories: boots, ��paulettes, rank, and badges.

    "What do you want me to write your name?"

    Vikir asked, and the military officer answered immediately.

    "Second Lieutenant ''Garm Nord''."

    * * *

    <Garm Nord> / ��

    A name tag and a single diamond.

    Vikir pinned his rank on his chest and shoulders.

    He had watched the guards so closely that he could mimic their actions and words.

    Except.

    "It''s not time to wear it yet."

    Vikir stuck the name tagbeled "Garm Nord" into his mouth.A lowly guard with no name and no affiliation to the Nouvelle Vague.

    jeobeog- jeobeog- jeobeog- jeobeog-

    Once he put on his uniform and ranking badge, it was all one and the same.

    He was able to walk through doors and corridors that would have been off-limits to anyone but a guard without raising suspicion.

    Then. A guard called out to Vikir as he walked down the hallwayte at night.

    "Hey. Second Lieutenant over there."

    A guard with the rank of captain stopped Vikir.

    Vikir paused for a moment. Had he aroused suspicion by not wearing a name tag?

    ... But no.

    "Don''t you see the trash on the ground there? Pick it up."

    The Captain made Vikir pick up the trash that was closer to him and went on his way.

    ''Good thing we''re a society that looks at rank before name.''

    Humans are like that everywhere.

    We decide whether to be interested in someone or not, whether to remember their name or not, based on their title or rank.

    In that sense, the second lieutenant was the perfect disguise to avoid suspicion.

    No one was interested in the name of the low-level guard, Nouvelle Vague, so there was no question about whether he wore a name tag or not, what his face looked like, whether he was tall or short, or what he was wearing.

    Vikir walked smoothly up the central staircase on the 9th floor and made his way to the 8th, 7th, and 6th floors.

    His final destination was the 5th floor.

    Vikir had just left the 6th floor and was about to open the door to the 5th floor.

    "...?"

    Vikir heard a voice behind him, stopping him in his tracks.

    For the first time, someone recognized Vikir''s face and body type, not his rank.

    Vikir slowly turned to see a familiar face standing there.

    A female prison guard standing on crutches with her legs and arms bandaged.

    Lieutenant Kirko Grimm stood there, cocking her head in question.

    "You''re Garm, right? Why are you here at this time of night? I didn''t see you when we were on watch earlier, and where have you been all this time...."

    Suddenly, Vikir was met with undue attention.

    Vikir thought for a moment.

    ''Should I remove it?''

    But he didn''t want to.

    Normally, he would have been relentless, but after lending his name and identity to ..., and considering Garm''sst wishes, he felt he could let it slide.

    ''It''s nothingpared to what''s going to happen on the 5th floor anyway.''

    Vikir''s long-nned escape is perfect.

    And if she didn''t know it now, she was definitely someone who would be helpful in the future.

    "...."

    Vikir didn''t respond to Kirko''s call, simply stepping through the door.

    "Huh? Hey- Garm!"

    Kirko''s eyes widened in surprise at the unexpected turn of events.

    This was uncharacteristic of Garm, who usually smiled like an idiot whenever he saw her.

    "What, are you going to be on guard in another area?"

    Kirko didn''t have time to stand there for long, as she''d just gotten off duty.

    She shook her head and turned to go.

    "...What the hell, I just wanted to say thank you for the Level 8 riot incident."

    But the other side is different. That ''stupid Garm''.

    Kirko soon lost her attention to Garm.

    The timid little guy isn''t going to get into trouble, so wherever he goes at this ambitious hour will be no big deal.

    ''Maybe I''ll thank him the next time I see him and we can talk properly.''

    jeobeog- jeobeog- jeobeog-

    Like Vikir, Kirko melted into the dark hallway.

    Vikir going up, and Kirko going down.

    They went in opposite directions.

 Chapter 380: Kennel (1)

    <h4>Chapter 380: Kennel (1)</h4>

    Vikir, a low-ranking guard with no name or affiliation.

    No one knew the identity or intentions of this hound that melted into the darkness of Nouvelle Vague.

    ''Did I give the picaresque mask to Camus for no reason? Maybe I should have kept it a little longer.''

    Vikir thought as he moved forward, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

    It''s easier to be a little smaller to avoid the prying eyes of the guards.

    Vikir briefly wondered if turning into a puppy would make it easier to hide.

    ... But Vikir soon had to change his mind.

    There wasn''t a single dog or cat in the Nouvelle Vague.

    If he were to change into a dog, he would be very noticeable.

    The guards asionally had pets, but they were usually crayfish, crabs, and octopuses, and asionally there were seals, fish, and water buffalo.

    ''If you''re going to have pets, you''re going to need an aquarium.''

    This is the deep ocean, after all.

    Vikir dropped to the floor, realizing that all the people around him were gone.

    5th floor. Vikir''s primary destination for his escape.

    In front of him was a vast sea.

    The vast za hadrge circr pools in each section, with narrow, steep passageways between them.

    An aquarium, or fish farm.

    This was the only aquarium in Nouvelle Vague.

    "Let''s see what they''re keeping."

    Vikir pulled up a bundle of ropes stacked in the corner of the aquarium.

    Then, he threaded the pickled sea bass onto a hook as big as the anchor of a decent ship attached to the end and threw it into the pool.

    pungdeong-

    The bait sank into the salt water of the pool.

    Then, there was a reaction.

    Swoosh.

    It was visible above the surface. A long, gigantic shadow approaching the bait.

    ...snap!

    The rope pulled taut.

    Vikir clenched his hands together and yanked on the rope.

    chwaaaaaag-

    A huge peak of water rose above the surface, and what was beneath the water was soon impaled on the hook.

    It was a giant eel.

    "...Hmm. So this is a Gulper eel."

    The appearance of the ''Gulper eel'' was indeed bizarre.

    Its head and belly were enormous, with a skinny, tiny tail.

    Meanwhile, its mouth, which takes up more than 90% of its head, is asrge and wide as the main entrance to a great temple.

    Despite its grotesque appearance, it was surprisingly not a monster from the Demon World, but an endemic species that originally lived in the deep sea.

    It is also known by nicknames such as One-bite eel, Gulping eel, Elevator eel, etc.

    [geu-ooooo!]

    This giant deep-sea creature was immediately irritated when it was dragged to the surface.

    When the huge mouth opens wide, one can see gums protruding from the teeth, each one shaped like a fish hook.

    Behind each tooth was a row of razor-sharp barbs, as if to say, once bitten, never let go.

    ...Of course.

    "It''s a spoiled eel."

    It posed no threat to Vikir.

    Bam!

    With a single p, Vikir broke most of the eel''s teeth and dragged the limp, dripping eel all the way back to the surface.

    "That''s a lot of them. Is this the biggest?"

    Vikir looked over at the countless eels swimming in circles in the aquarium''s pool.

    The one he had just caught happened to be thergest.

    This Gulper Eel is a species of eel that is bred in captivity at Nouvelle Vague.

    It''s characterized by having a body that''s toorge and fins and tail that are too small to swim well, but its bulk and light weight allow it to float in the currents and roam the depths of the ocean.

    Most of their bodies are made up of water, and the rest are bones and skin, so there''s no meat to be had.

    What''s more, they''re so fishy and foul-smelling that they''re hardly edible.

    As you can see, they''re not even cute enough to keep as pets.

    ... So why is this seemingly useless species being farmed in Nouvelle Vague?

    "Because this is the only ''elevator'' to the surface."

    Vikir stared at the Gulper Eel gasping in front of him.

    Getting down to the Nouvelle Vague from the surface is simple.

    It''s a long, long way to sail through the harsh waters.

    At 12 midnight, the vortex that serves as the primary gateway opens, and a prisoner is ced inside an orthoharcon alloy coffin and allowed to sink.

    The coffin slowly sinks with the current and eventually arrives at Nouvelle Vague, 10,000 meters below the surface.

    ...But how do you get from the Nouvelle Vague to the surface?

    You can use a Gulper Eel.

    It has a big mouth and an even bigger stomach. It can hold any number of people.

    Its flesh is soft and its skin is tough, allowing it to survive the crushing pressure of the deep sea.

    Gulper Eels with these biological characteristics are bred to an appropriate size ording to the body size of the upants.

    In the rare event that it is necessary to go to the surface, a Gulper eel of the right size is selected and the rider opens its mouth and enters its stomach.

    Gulper eels are built to withstand water pressure, but they have little ability to swim on their own, so they ride a "specific current" to the surface and are slowly swept up to the surface.

    Hence the nickname "elevator eel".

    " ... I just need to break through that one bubble and I''ll be out of here."

    At the end of the tanks, the passageways look out onto the vast depths of the ocean.

    However, there is actually a transparent mucus barrier separating the two spaces.

    This sticky, transparent wall of mucus, which looks like a soap bubble, is called "Flubber" by the Nouvelle Vague guards.

    BDISSEM and Flubber are the two key substances that keep Nouvelle Vague alive.

    BDISSEM creates order by binding the prisoners'' mana and strength, while Flubber keeps water from flowing into the castle from the outside, allowing the prison itself to be maintained.

    Both have one thing inmon: they are mysterious substances whose identities have yet to be determined.

    Sticky...

    Vikir frowned at the mysterious mucus that covered the windows, and indeed the entire castle of Nouvelle Vague.

    Flubber was a substance that was responsible for Nouvelle Vague''s security alongside the BDISSEM, but it was nowhere near as strong as the BDISSEM.

    Now that he was free of his restraints, there was no reason why Vikir, with his mana, shouldn''t be able to prate this Flubber.

    Squirm.

    Vikir tugged on the eel''s tail and approached the window.

    The eel didn''t want to move from its spot, but it didn''t matter.

    Their bodies are too slimy to fit through the narrow window, and they don''t have the ability to swim, so they just follow the current.

    "Is this for the purpose of restraining a giant? Why is it so big?"

    Vikir looked at the eel he''d just caught.

    It was arge eel sorge that it could be considered a restraining weapon for the giants.

    There were only a few of these in the aquarium, while other aquariums were full of smaller ones.

    kugugug-

    Vikir attached the reins to the eel''s tongue, and soon the line was stretched across its stomach.

    Even if the eel didn''t have the ability to swim, he''d at least be able to control the direction of its fins.

    And then.

    ...Poof!

    Vikir kicked the eel out of the water.

    Ssh!

    The flubber mucus ripped away, and the eel slipped into the darkness of the deep.

    The eel''s stomach was empty.

    Since then, Vikir has reeled in several more eels, using rope, hooks, and a pile of perch in the corner as bait.

    Three small ones, just big enough for him, and two bigger than thest one.

    Vikir did the same to them, tying a halter to their tongues and fins, and shoved them out the window.

    The flubber window, once torn, healed quickly, so he didn''t have to worry about the seawater continuing to rush in.

    Then, as Vikir was pushing the sixth eel out of the water, Decarabia asked.

    [Human, why do you keep throwing these eels into the sea? I''m not even going to ride it.].

    "To distract them. It would take a lot of manpower to chase them all down, and it would take a long time."

    [Aha. That''s a good idea.]

    "It''s always a good idea to have a distraction when you can afford one. Especially if you''re going to break out."

    [So now we''re on our seventh eel, huh? But why did we only catch six eels, don''t we have to catch one more?]

    Decarabia questioned Vikir, who threw all the eels out the window.

    Vikir''s answer was short.

    "I''m not going out."

    [...what?]

    Decarabia asked in disbelief.

    [No, if you''re not going to, why did you untie the eel in the first ce?]

    "I told you, distraction."

    Vikir smiled thinly.

    "Riding the eel is a littleter. The jailbreak is not yet finalized."

    If we go out now, we''ll be caught, no matter how many eels we untie. The currents are too slow.

    Also, since there was no drinking water or food stored up, it was impossible to go on a voyage without knowing how long it would take.

    There was also the risk that the eels would be eaten byrger deep-sea creatures along the way, or that they would run aground on reefs or rough currents.

    So Vikir wanted to go into the escape prepared.

    This is because it is right to exclude uncertain factors as much as possible.

    ... Just then.

    "What is it, an escaped prisoner?"

    An unfamiliar voice came from behind.

    "...!"

    Vikir instinctively sensed danger and wiped the burn marks from his face, returning to his bare skin.

    Slowly turning around, Vikir hears footsteps approaching.

    "I thought you were a guard because of your uniform, but I guess not."

    The voice turns to face Vikir, an admiring note of interest in its voice.

    "Hmph- this is what you look like, the face of the man who broke my handcuffs."

    The being was admiring Vikir''s face, not Garm''s.

    A young girl with green hair,zy eyes, and a pale face that still looks to be in her early teens.

    But theyers of restraints on her wrists and ankles were unmistakably familiar.

    Despite wearing the uniform of a guard, the mysterious girl in the restraints wore a shiny rank on her chest patch.

    <��>

    One Star. The mark of a brigadier general, the rank above a colonel.

    Vikir''s eyes narrowed as he recognized her identity.

    "...I see. You made that."

    One of Vikir''s oldest questions was finally answered.

 Chapter 381: Kennel (2)

    <h4>Chapter 381: Kennel (2)</h4>

    BDISSEM.

    A mysterious substance that binds the mana and power of the prisoners in Nouvelle Vague.

    Vikir had once vaguely spected that it was made of nts.

    -Title: ''Daylily Lumberjack''

    Inflicts massive additional damage against creatures in nt form.

    Taunt, Confuse, Blind, Bleed, Burn, Poison, and other status ailmentsst slightly longer.

    Vikir''s suspicions were confirmed, as he realized that the restraints, which he could not break no matter what, could be destroyed by the power of the Daylily Lumberjack, a title he had earned in the Hell Tree.

    And Vikir realized that his guess was correct.

    The girl before him was higher in rank than any of the guards he had ever met.

    A brigadier general, even higher than the colonel''s rank on Souar�� and D''Ordume, where the warden was a colonel.

    Brigadier General BDISSEM.

    Although she looked like a young girl, her true self waspletely different.

    A being with the power and cunning of an old tree.

    Her race was called the Ents, or Dryads.

    If the beings between animals and humans are called the Beastman, then the beings between nts and humans are the Ent.

    ''... So, it makes perfect sense that all five wardens are non-human beings.''

    Vikir was right.

    D''Ordume was a sea crocodile, Souar�� was an elf-dwarf hybrid, and the one in front of him, BDISSEM, was an Ent.

    Meanwhile, BDISSEM stared at Vikir in wonder.

    "I''m here to find out who broke my handcuffs. It was you, wasn''t it?"

    Apparently, BDISSEM can feel when the handcuffs she made are destroyed.

    Shhhhhh.

    The five fingers on the end of BDISSEM''s arm elongated like vines, then turned ck and turned into chains.

    "How did you break it? Do it again."

    As soon as BDISSEM finished speaking, a chain of vines erupted from her body and rushed towards Vikir like a snake.

    Chakang! Chakang! Chakang!

    At the end of the chains, handcuffs and shackles were interlocked like the jaws of a snake.

    One bite from that thing would instantly cause the bindings to be filled and the mana and power to be sealed.

    Of course, Vikir had the power to destroy it.

    But the thought of having his mana flow interrupted, even for a fraction of a second, was disturbing, so he simply stepped back and dodged all of her attacks.

    BDISSEM pulled out more vines as enthusiastic.

    "Fight me properly! You''re letting me off the hook!"

    She was quite angry for some reason.

    She seemed to misunderstand why Vikir was only dodging and not fighting head-on.

    grrttt.

    The sound of tree bark rubbing came out of BDISSEM''s mouth.

    The vines, hard and resilient like extremely concentrated rubber, flew out like whips, aimed at Vikir.

    The blow was a blow, but what followed was even more annoying.

    "This is all because of Warden Orca! That old man is making everyone overprotective and treating me like a child! Why am I being treated so differently from Flubber!"

    Although Vikir didn''t know what she was talking about, he had a vague idea of what had caused all theining.

    Vikir had plenty of opportunities to fight back, but he kept backing away from BDISSEM''s attacks.

    He gently scratched her nerves.

    "Go get a guardian. You''re too young to fight."

    "What! I''m a hundred years older than you!"

    "I do not fight with the opposite sex. Back off."

    "I have both male and female genders!"

    "...."

    So why the hell is this girl overprotected?

    Vikir thought for a moment and then spoke.

    "You are a valuable resource to the Nouvelle Vague, so take care of yourself. I don''t want any disruption to the production and maintenance of the BDISSEM restraints."

    "...!"

    "What if you die and the rest of the restraints lose their power?"

    "...! ...! ...! ...!"

    Judging by the look of surprise on BDISSEM''s face with each of Vikir''s words, that was the answer.

    Then, her expression turned to one of uncontroble irritation.

    "So what? Stop telling me to save my body, I''m sick of it! I have freedom!"

    Apparently, BDISSEM was living a life of confinement in an alley because of the production and maintenance of restraints.

    And she seems to be under a lot of stress because of it.

    ''Well, I know it because I lived as a prisoner. The frustration of Nouvelle Vague.''

    Vikir dodged a whip and did a backflip,nding on the other side of the aquarium.

    Suddenly curious, Vikir turned to BDISSEM and asked.

    "So, if you''re so overprotected, how did you get here?"

    "Hmm. That''s because Orca, the old man, was away."

    Orca, the warden of Nouvelle Vague.

    Come to think of it, Vikir hadn''t seen his face since entering Nouvelle Vague.

    "I heard the ground has been devastated these days? There were so many felons to send to the Nouvelle Vague that the old man was sent on a long-term mission to the ground? We have to face some kind of huge ''event'' or something..... We don''t know what that means."

    BDISSEM was quite a talkative individual, perhaps because she spent so much time alone.

    Even against the less talkative Vikir, it was obvious by the way she kept talking to herself.

    "I hear there''s been a lot of talk about demons and gatestely. Hmm~ Things areplicated on the surface."

    "...!"

    Vikir, who has a quiet personality, gained a lot of information from BDISSEM''s chatter, which spouted things without being asked.

    Vikir barely suppressed the slight impatience in his heart.

    ''Demons and Gates. The age of destruction is upon us.''

    He saw iting, and he can''t save them all anyway.

    Only those who cannot be left to die can be saved.

    ...The rising of the Great Demons.

    ...Gates of Destruction.

    ...The Rainy Season of Fear.

    ...Poseidon.

    ...And the Nouvelle Vague.

    Vikir strung together the keywords in his mind.

    Then he began to act.

    "First, the immediate enemy."

    When things are overwhelming, it''s best to tackle them head on.

    ...sh!

    Vikir awoke and summoned Beelzebub, the magic sword.

    Having not breathed fresh air for so long, Beelzebub''s strength was surging and he was radiating a crimson aura.

    There was no need to use the solid aura of the Swordmaster.

    Tsutsutsutsutsutsutsuts...

    A gaseous aura that only an Expert could produce.

    Vikir converted all of his aura into a gaseous form and scattered it.

    "Heh, what is it? Are you an expert? With just an attack like this... huh!"

    BDISSEM, who had been looking down on the gaseous aura that was spreading like a whirlwind, swallowed the wind in vain.

    Gases were just gases, flickering and weak.

    But its scale was a problem.

    The gaseous aura that Vikir unleashed began to envelop an enormous area, as watery fog envelop an entire mountain.

    An ordinary Expert-level swordsman couldn''t even dream of it.

    jjeojeojeong! jjeojeojeojeong!

    The sound of anchors and ropes breaking or snapping could be heard throughout the aquarium.

    Each molecule of Vikir''s fog of strikes was a sharp, lethal weapon.

    ''The Swordmaster''s solid aura is good for one-on-onebat, but the Expert''s gaseous aura is more effective for wiping outrge areas.''

    Vikir had no intention of killing BDISSEM.

    Now that he knew who she was and what she was capable of, there were endless ways to use her.

    ''...I''ll keep her alive for now.''

    He''d seen her power firsthand, and it was more than enough for him to handle.

    So Vikir enveloped the area in a fog of strikes to subdue, not kill, BDISSEM.

    It was the foundation of the Hound, the art of slowly cornering a prey.

    "Ugh!"

    BDISSEM was left with no room to move back as the entire space around her was covered in Vikir''s strikes and aura.

    There was only one path she could take now.

    The aquarium. Into that pool of saltwater where the balloon eels were being bred.

    ...And finally.

    Pung Pung!

    BDISSEM dived deep into the pool.

    Vikir realized that the n had worked.

    ''nts don''t like salt.''

    Normally, nts exposed to too much salt would burn the tips off their leaves and eventually die.

    The Ent or Dryads, as beings who owe their life to nts, were no different.

    What''s more, the water here is ultra-deep, 10,000 meters below the surface.

    It was extremely salty and concentrated, making the water feel sticky.

    Pung!

    Vikir dove into the saltwater pool to capture the weakened BDISSEM alive.

    Several balloon eels approached, assuming they had run out of food, but were quickly cut to pieces by Vikir''s charge.

    ''...Where are you?''

    Vikir looked around, searching for BDISSEM, who must be sinking and weakening somewhere.

    Just then.

    "Hohoho- are you looking for me?"

    A seductive female voice called out from somewhere.

    "...!"

    Vikir''s head whipped around.

    Churrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!

    BDISSEM vines, much thicker and tougher than before, flew out and enveloped Vikir''s entire body.

    It was a speed that couldn''t even bepared to fighting onnd.

    Vikir''s eyes widened at the unexpectedness of the situation, and BDISSEM appeared before him.

    With her hair flying in the extremely salty brine, she looked quite different than before.

    Her body had matured, and her face was no longer that of a child.

    Seeing the vast increase in BDISSEM''s power, Vikir had to admit that he had made a mistake.

    " ...Was it a seaweed entity?"

    He hadn''t realized that the thing he''d dragged into the water was actually a bad hand.

 Chapter 382: Kennel (3)

    <h4>Chapter 382: Kennel (3)</h4>

    BDISSEM. She revealed her true form in the thick salt water.

    "Hohoho- surprise."

    She winked at Vikir with a smirk, her rosy cheeks gone from the corners of her mouth.

    What took her ce was a flower in full bloom.

    Vikir eximed in pure amazement.

    "...A seaweed-based Ent? I didn''t realize such a thing existed."

    He has heard many tales of forest-dwelling Ents during his time living in the jungle of the Red and ck Mountains.

    So naturally, he had the preconceived notion that they only lived in forests.

    However, they also live in seaweed forests deep beneath the ocean floor.

    Just as the Beastman descended from various animal families, the Ent descended from various nt families, and in the case of BDISSEM, she was descended from the seaweed family of kelp and wakame.

    "Hmmm. This isn''t going as well as I thought."

    Dragging BDISSEM into the water was proved to be a deadly move, as it grabbed Vikir''s ankle.

    Ordinary nts would have their leaves burned to a crisp by the salt, but seaweed actually revitalizes itself.

    ...Pow!

    Vikir kicked out the flying chains of seaweed.

    The rounded, hard spikes on the seaweed felt like they were kicked by a bowling ball full force.

    ''...This is troublesome.''

    Vikir brushed off the leaves that clung to his arms and tried to rise to the surface.

    But BDISSEM wouldn''t let him escape the water.

    "Hoho- where do you think you''re going, you''ve only juste in, why don''t you y some more~"

    Chewy stalks of seaweed swooped in like sea serpents.

    Kiriririk-

    The ck seaweed that sprouted from the bottom of the gulper eel farm moved like BDISSEM''s limbs and grabbed Vikir''s ankles.

    Chararararak- Kwak...

    Above it, the long, giant leaves of the seaweed grew diagonally and horizontally, forming a grid-like encirclement.

    Snake, fishing, square, gill, drift, cast, drag, trawl....All kinds ofs were spread out targeting just one Vikir.

    They were terrifying restraints, designed not only to trap but to imprison.

    Spears of dried seaweed with pointed tips pierced the immobilized Vikir''s body.

    Bind him withs, impale him with spears, and drain his mana and strength once they''re in contact.

    It was a must-win pattern that turned BDISSEM into an invincible monster.

    Puff-puff-puck!

    Blood, flesh, and guts exploded like firecrackers. The water instantly turned ck.

    "...hmm."

    But BDISSEM narrowed her eyes, not liking the situation.

    Countless spears of seaweed failed to reach Vikir in the end.

    At a crucial moment, Vikir yanked the tail of a passing gulper eel and used it as a shield.

    peopeog! peog! peoeog!

    The seaweed spears that followed were also blocked by the gulper eels that Vikir was pulling, causing a series of misfires.

    "Ugh! It takes me years to grow one of these gulper eels! If D''Ordume and Souar�� find out, there will be an uproar!"

    Bubbles began to boil from the angry BDISSEM''s entire body.

    Bubbling, bubbling, bubbling...

    True to its form, the nt was pumping out tons of oxygen from its body.

    Seeing this, Vikir nodded.

    ''I see why everyone was so overprotective of her.''

    In addition to crafting the BDISSEM restraints that bind prisoners'' mana and power, BDISSEM has a very important role.

    She provides oxygen to the prison.

    In addition to her ability to block mana and physical force, she has the uncanny ability to eat things like sulfur and toxic vapors and turn them into oxygen.

    So without BDISSEM, there is no Nouvelle Vague.

    There''s nowhere else to get oxygen from inside the fluffy dome of mucus.

    ''I like you even more now. You''ll be useful in many ways.''

    Vikir dropped the gulper eel he was using as a shield and climbed onto the next one.

    Boom!

    A spear of seaweed swooped down from below, piercing both the upper and lower jaws of gulper eel.

    ...Thud!

    Vikir threw off the gulper eel andnded on the bottom of the tank.

    "Hohohoho~ You''re going deeper, that is suicidal."

    BDISSEM had spread out long strands of seaweed like a, blocking his path to the surface.

    Now Vikir was trapped at the bottom of the pool, unable to move.

    Getting out was one thing, but breathing was the immediate problem.

    But.

    Shrrrrrrrr.

    Even at an overwhelmingly vantage point, BDISSEM could not help but cringe at the strange phenomenon taking ce in Vikir''s right hand.

    A stream of water flowing in a strange direction. It was slowly being sucked towards Vikir''s right hand.

    ''What is it? Is there a hole over there?''

    Unless there was a leak, there was no reason for the water to be flowing that way.

    Suddenly, BDISSEM realized that something was wrong.

    Kurrrrrr!

    The strength of the current suddenly increased.

    It''s as if there was a leak somewhere, and the water was being sucked in at a tremendous speed.

    Not only the seaweed around him, but also BDISSEM was almost dragged away by the current.

    "What, what!"

    An ominous foreboding shed through her mind.

    She realized she shouldn''t be caught in Vikir''s outstretched right hand. Her instinct screamed a desperate warning.

    ''Starvation drought.''

    A trait possessed by the Blood Tree Daylily. The power to dry out anything with moisture.

    Vikir was going to dry up all the moisture in the pool.

    And as the water dried up and disappeared, the empty space was filled with new water, which dried up and disappeared again, creating a turbulent current.

    Vikir emitted aura through Beelzebub.

    Like a me that travels forward through pouring oil, Vikir''s aura shot forward through the swirling water currents.

    The target was, of course, BDISSEM.

    "Huh!"

    BDISSEM was stunned by the eight flying teeth that split the water-filled space.

    ck Sun. A small but dense and heavy ck sun was rising at the bottom of the sea.

    Kurrrrrr!

    The ck sun grew in size with an incredible speed, sucking in everything around it.

    This ck sheep, which was essentially Vikir''s special move, was destructive, but it didn''t have the power to pull in anything around it.

    However, the fact that it was underwater, and that Vikir knew how to use the power of the Blood Daylily''s Starvation Drought, made it work.

    ''That guy! He was aiming for this in the first ce, trying to get underwater...!''

    BDISSEM realized that she waspletely caught up in Vikir''s n.

    The ck orb was a collection of countless teeth, and she knew what would happen to her if she was dragged into its center.

    Her entire body would be disintegrated, leaving not even a scrap of flesh behind.

    "kkyaaaaaghhhh!"

    BDISSEM struggled to break free of the current somehow.

    She pulled up all the avable seaweed and shot it out, but all of it was sucked into the center of the ck sun and turned into fuel for the fire.

    The seaweed was torn to shreds and pulverized, and not even a leaf could be salvaged.

    Strangely enough, the aura emitted by that monster-like thing did not fade even when it touched BDISSEM''s seaweed.

    If the people of Nouvelle Vague saw BDISSEM''s seaweed, which nullifies all mana and physical power, being torn apart so helplessly, like a cheap piece of paper, they would probably be horrified.

    But it wasn''t all for nothing.

    kuleuleuleug... kuleug! kkuleuleug!

    As arge amount of water nts were hit by the ck sun, the water flow became a little looser.

    BDISSEM managed to break free from the current and rise to the surface.

    "Puh-ha!"

    After breaking the surface, BDISSEM looked back with a white face.

    "Okay, I need to get out of here quickly, I have to tell D''Ordume and Souar�� about this...."

    But... she hadn''t taken more than seven steps before she felt her body shake.

    "...?"

    Her vision spun. She''d thought she''d taken a straight path, but somehow her foot had twisted.

    ...Thud!

    BDISSEM fell to the ground.

    ''?''

    ''Why?

    ''Why am I like this?''

    ''Why won''t my body listen to me?''

    ''What''s going to happen to me now?''

    ''What''s going on?''

    ''Quick, I need to get away now...''

    Unanswered questions only filled her head.

    And then.

    chwaag-

    Vikir broke the surface of the water and climbed out.

    "You drink a lot of water for a seaweed."

    Vikir spoke in a dry voice to BDISSEM, his fingertips dripping with ck blood.

    Madame''s poison.

    Vikir had sneakily released his own blood into the water once, when BDISSEM had ughtered the gulper eels, creating a spray of blood.

    Afterwards, as a vortex was formed due to the water current, BDISSEM unknowingly inhaled arge amount of poison throughout its body.

    The poison was diluted by the water, so the impact was dyed, but once the symptoms appeared, the oue was obvious.

    "...heog! heoeog! keog!"

    BDISSEM crawled on the ground with one hand on her throat and the other on her chest.

    syuuuuug-

    Her body temperature rose rapidly due to the poison, and water evaporated from her body.

    Dark spots, the marks of death, began to appear all over her body.

    BDISSEM, who had changed from a girl to an adult woman, was now turning into a shriveled up old woman.

    "Oh, no, no, no... if I die... the restraints and cages of the prisoners... will all lose their strength... that... that...."

    And her forward in agony.

    jeobeog- jeobeog- jeobeog-

    Night Hound, or rather of the Nouvelle Vague Hound, began to take steps.

    Even in the deep sea, where not a single light shines, the shadow of death seemed to be cast.

 Chapter 383: The Rotten Dog of Nouvelle Vague (1)

    <h4>Chapter 383: The Rotten Dog of Nouvelle Vague (1)</h4>

    Early the next morning.

    There was an unprecedented uproar in Nouvelle Vague.

    "WHAT THE HELL !"

    A thunderous shout shook Level 9.

    Colonel D''Ordume D D''Orcdile. One of the leading candidates to be the next head of the prison.

    He turned his head, his expression filled with rage.

    A group of mid-level officers, including Lieutenant Colonel Bastille, stood behind him, heads bowed.

    It was because of the escape of Night Hound in the middle of the night.

    Colonel D''Ordume had frantically scoured his men after reports of Vikir''s disappearance.

    But nothing had been reported, except that a mysterious doctor had slipped out of the prisoners'' quarters under the guise of quarantine.

    Colonel D''Ordume was barely able to contain his anger as he realized that the reason why the siege was so weak in the first ce was due to the mysterious explosives found in the Level 10 sector, and Colonel D''Ordume''s unreasonable orders to reassign the guards in order to force the construction work around them.

    "There was nothing unusual about the night before, how couldn''t anyone notice until it came to this?"

    At Colonel D''Ordume''s usation, the guards all lowered their heads and remained speechless.

    Then. A dispatch came in.

    "Sir Colonel, I think you should go to the fifth floor!"

    D''Ordume''s thick eyebrows arched at the report from his out-of-breath subordinate.

    The next thing he knew, he was running up the stairs to the fifth floor.

    "What the hell...."

    The first thing he sees is a giant hole in the wall of the Gulper Eel tank.

    The next thing he saw was arge number of dead gulper eels floating in the water.

    He couldn''t even begin to estimate how many eels had been swept out of the water.

    Luckily, the flubber mucus filled in the holes, so the flooding wasn''t too bad, but the loss of so many gulper eels was devastating.

    It is very difficult to raise gulper eels, and even in the process of bing an adult, sudden or mysterious deaths ur frequently.

    Their growth rate is also extremely fast.

    An adult gulper eel could cost as much as a ship, and the loss of such a creature was unspeakable.

    ... However, Colonel D''Ordume''s focus was elsewhere.

    Gulper eels were nowhere in sight.

    The problem was the little girl squatting in the corner of the tank, shivering.

    Wrapped in a towel from the guards, drinking warm sea cow, she was BDISSEM!

    " ... What''s going on?"

    D''Ordume asked in disbelief.

    BDISSEM snorted and answered.

    "I was trying to catch an escaped prisonerst night and lost him."

    "No, I don''t know why you''re here in the first ce... haa."

    D''Ordume sighed, pressing a hand to his forehead.

    Just then, a figure approached him.

    "What are you doing here? You have been slow."

    Colonel Souar��. She eyed him with a sneer.

    "Is that how you''re going to became head of the warden?"

    "Shut up, Souar��. I was off dutyst night, a once-in-a-year urrence."

    "Aha- so you were out of the loop while I dealt with the flood damage, the gulper eel deaths, and BDISSEM''s security?"

    "...."

    D''Ordume didn''t answer.

    He merely grinded his teeth with such force that they seemed to wear down.

    Souar�� looked around.

    "Thank goodness Brigadier General Flubber took care of that hole in the wall. There''s some flooding damage, but it''s nothing that can''t be repaired with thebor of Level 1 prisoners. The loss of the gulper eels is a pity, but so be it. We''ll just have to be satisfied that BDISSEM is safe. We could have had a major ident of epic proportions."

    "...Where are the prisoner?"

    "Why are you asking me that? It''s not even my jurisdiction. I''m just cleaning up the damage."

    He''s right.

    It was D''Ordume''s job to capture the prisoner, and Souar��''s job to torture them and keep them in solitary confinement.

    D''Ordume couldn''t help but ask the trembling BDISSEM.

    "Where are the prisoner?"

    Then BDISSEM jumped, more startled than necessary, and cried out.

    "He''s dead!"

    "... dead?"

    D''Ordume was silent for a moment.

    There was no way anyone could have escaped from Nouvelle Vague.

    With no mana, limited strength, and a body weakened by poor diet and harshbor, it would be impossible to escape from this harsh environment while wearing the BDISSEM restraints.

    On top of that, this is 10,000 meters below the surface of the sea.

    But the job had to be done.

    "Then where is the body?"

    D''Ordume asked in a hard tone, and BDISSEM quickly averted her gaze.

    "...He went out to sea on a gulper eel."

    "Then he''s not dead."

    "Of course he''s dead!"

    BDISSEM had a point.

    In fact, there was no way to get to the surface on a gulper eel.

    It was a military secret that only the wardens knew, a secret that the prisoners would never know.

    The fifth floor of the Nouvelle Vague, where the gulper eels are kept, is surrounded by more than 3,000 circting currents, of which only one leads to the surface.

    This means that it''s all about which point you push the eels to, and without knowing the exact path, there''s only a 0.00033101622% chance of reaching the surface if you choose a random path.

    The rest of the time, the gulper eel is left to wander in circles in the depths of the sea at the mercy of the currents, returning to where it came from, a journey that can take as long as a hundred years, and by the time the gulper returns, the person in its stomach is reduced to a skeleton.

    "He doesn''t seem to have any idea what the cirction currents are that lead to the surface, so he''s bound to get caught in a trap current, and he''ll be stuck in the deep for the rest of his life."

    " ... Maybe? It sounds like you didn''t see it."

    "Yes, yes, yes, I saw it, Haa, I saw it, and I saw him ride a gulper eel out of that hole in the wall before I passed out!"

    BDISSEM desperately answered.

    D''Ordume crossed his arms and was silent for a long moment.

    " ...You did indeed witness hisst act, didn''t you?"

    "Oh, that''s right! What are you looking at me for? And no matter what, I''m the one who cares... don''t look at me like that!"

    BDISSEM broke out in a cold sweat.

    Because she was lying now.

    ''I can''t tell you that I passed out and then woke up and he was gone!''

    If she did, it wouldn''t be just another day in captivity.

    When Warden Orca returned, she might be locked up as a prisoner for life.

    "Yeah. There was a hole in the wall! He tried to drag an eel out. He probably took the eel with him, and he''s probably wandering around somewhere in a daze right now. Fucking asshole!''

    BDISSEM rationalized herself. She said it was something that could not be helped.

    And Souar�� ''s testimony coincidentally backed up BDISSEM''s words.

    "Come to think of it, the guy who came into the cell this time said something strange, the one on level eight, the guy Sakkuth or something, he said that the Night Hound was about to break out?"

    "Sakkuth? the gue leper?"

    "Yep. He said some guy named Vikir tipped him off about the escape. I thought it was bullshit and ignored it, but he was right."

    The testimony of Sakkuth De Leviathan, who is currently in solitary confinement for his role in a recent riot, was pretty conclusive.

    BDISSEM was eventually cleared of the charge of missing an inmate.

    "Hey, that''s it, I''m going back to my room."

    Fearful of being reprimanded by the warden and belittled by subordinates, BDISSEM decided not to dwell on the matter and kept her mouth shut.

    D''Ordume felt suspicious in many ways, but decided he could not pursue the investigation further.

    A hole in the wall. The missing gulper eel. BDISSEM''s unwavering testimony.

    In the end, D''Ordume could only nod.

    "Night Hound died trying to break out of Nouvelle Vague. I suppose we can treat it that way."

    "Well, I agree, it''s a shame, he was quite charming."

    Even Souar�� nodded in agreement.

    D''Ordume found Vikir''s name in the list he was carrying and scribbled it down.

    <Night Hound ''Vikir Van Baskerville''>

    With that, Night Hound was officially dered dead in Nouvelle Vague.

    "Send a mana transmission to the surface and have it recorded."

    D''Ordume roughly tossed the register with Vikir''s name crossed out to one of the junior guards beside him.

    "Yes, sir. Colonel."

    The junior guard bowed his head deeply and took the list with both hands.

    He turned and walked away to fulfill D''Ordume''s orders.

    Souar�� caught a glimpse of the junior guard''s sideways nce as he walked past her.

    He wore a tattered guard''s cap, unkempt bushy hair, and arge burn scar across his face.

    And a crisp uniform that looked brand new.

    The name tag on his chest patch, which looked like it had been freshly iid, read ''Garm Nord''.

    ''The atmosphere is strange? Was there a guy like that among your subordinates?''

    Souar�� shook off the thought.

    ''Eh, what the hell.''

    She was a colonel and the next head of the prison, there was no way she could remember the names and faces of such a lowlife.

    Right now, it was more important to Souar�� to make up for the mistake Static D''Ordume had made and put on as much color as she could.

    "Anyway. Let''s wrap this up. I''ll take a look upstairs."

    "...."

    D''Ordume merely puffed away at his cigar.

    The Nouvelle Vague prison break, which could have been an unprecedented event in history, ended somewhat in vain like this.

 Chapter 384: The Rotten Dog of Nouvelle Vague (2)

    <h4>Chapter 384: The Rotten Dog of Nouvelle Vague (2)</h4>

    Name ''Garm Nord''. Rank Second Lieutenant. A junior officer in the suppression squad in Nouvelle Vague.

    A 21-year-old man characterized by a timid stance, a dark expression, bushy uncut hair, andrge burn marks on his face.

    This was the "new identity" Vikir had been observing for the past two years.

    Vikir did not escape.

    Or, more urately, he made a pretense of escaping and then returned to Nouvelle Vague when BDISSEM was unconscious.

    After all, stealing a gulper eel wasn''t going to get him away, and he still had work to do in prison.

    ''I need to activate Poseidon.''

    There was nothing else to do.

    Once he fulfilled certain conditions and activated the Poseidon, his work here in Nouvelle Vague would be done.

    ''... Honestly, I wouldn''t mind dying here if I could get this done.''

    Simply stopping the Rainy Season of Fear will save more than half of humanity.

    The rest was up to the survivors.

    But Vikir wanted to do the job perfectly.

    It would be a good business if he could do it with his own life.

    Then.

    TOOOOOOOO-!

    The sound of a horn announced the guards'' wake-up call.

    3.30am.

    The guards wake up half an hour before the prisoners, who wake up at four.

    Garm, or rather Vikir, pushed himself up from his room, which was just over 3 square meters.

    The shower room is a stone cubicle, barely big enough for two people.

    Vikir turned on the rusty tap and washed his face and body under the dripping cold water.

    Unsurprisingly, the water is seawater, so even when he scrubbed soap into it, almost no foam came out.

    When he got out, his skin still felt sticky.

    When he looked in the mirror, he could see nasty burn marks under his wet hair.

    With the strength of the basilisk, Vikir could erase the scars, reshape them, and so on.

    His voice, too, could be modified by swallowing hot charcoal and burning his vocal cords.

    Decarabia on Vikir''s chest spoke wearily.

    [Human. Doesn''t it even hurt, how awful!]

    "That''s what it takes to enter the Iron Maiden and be thrown ten thousand meters under the sea, walk across ded bridges, fight leeches, endure sulfurous showers, and mine under a volcano so hot that it burns the flesh."

    In any case, the initial jailbreak was a sess.

    The Night Hound was dered dead, and he was turned into a guard.

    This was a good thing, as it would be much easier to keep an eye on Poseidon''s movements as a guard.

    Vikir nced away as he prepared for roll call.

    His desk and bed were piled high with palm-sized notes.

    They were the journals that Garm had kept every day of his life.

    Hundreds of these journals piled up in a room that was already cramped.

    But Vikir didn''t throw them away.

    Instead, he treated them like treasures, reading and memorising every word on the damp, smudged pages.

    ''It''s good to know the daily routine of the lower guards.''

    Garm''s diary reveals the lives and struggles of the lowly guards, living in a single, t room.

    Vikir finished reading the diaries, as there was still some time before the horns sounded and the morning watch began.

    He had spent the entirety ofst night''s dawn reading, and there was still quite a bit left.

    Vikir decided to cut through the nonsense to get to the essentials: the structure and systems of the Nouvelle Vague, information about the people in Garm''s life, and other things to keep in mind. ....

    Other than that, the overwhelming majority of the information was personal, revealing the thoughts, beliefs, and humanity of Garm.

    Vikir had decided that he didn''t need to see the personal records of Garm, but he couldn''t help but read through the voluminous pages and read every single line.

    And in the process, he came to understand his humanity to some extent.

    " ... It''s a good thing he doesn''t have many close people around him."

    Garm had an extremely narrow circle of friends.

    However, he was able to observe others neutrally and objectively, and these views are reflected in his diary.

    Nouvelle Vague seen through the eyes of a prisoner and Nouvelle Vague seen through the eyes of a guard are surprisingly simr.

    For example, in most of Garm''s diaries, thest sentence was ''I want to get out of here''.

    It was like reading a prisoner''s diary.

    "...Now that I think about it, the ces where guards and prisoners live are simr."

    Vikir looked inside the cramped stone room.

    There were no windows, and it was practically a coffin.

    It wasn''t much different from a prisoner''s cell, except for the handcuffs and bars.

    ...No, the guards had handcuffs and bars too.

    "Morning call! Everybody out!"

    It was an insanely dense rotation and shift schedule.

    It was like an invisible bar that trapped and manipted the guards.

    The guards, who control and manipte the prisoners, were controlled and manipted by the system.

    Vikir stood up and closed Garm''s diary.

    ...No, he tried to cover it.

    "Hmm?"

    Vikir turned to the next page.

    From there, the diary began to reveal things it hadn''t before.

    Until then, Garm had been writing in his diary in a calm and dry handwriting, even including himself.

    But now, bordering this page and every page thereafter, there is something different.

    It was about Kirko.

    About how spirited, how strong, how determined, how great, how admirable, and how pretty the girl across the room named ''Kirko Grimm'' was.

    From one page to the next, Garm''s diary was full of talk about Kirko.

    There was even a pretty good sketch of her.

    The story of how she came in first in the end-of-month evaluation.

    How she briefly quelled a prisoner riot.

    How she was promoted first among her colleagues.

    How she won first ce in a swordsmanshippetition.

    .

    .

    And thest entry in the diary, which had always been the same, was slightly altered.

    After the line "I want to get out of here," the line "with her" began to appear.

    -I want to show her the outside world.

    -If only I could show her the blue skies, salt-freekes, and wild animals running through the fields where I was born...

    Vikir closed his diary at this point.

    Suddenly, Vikir remembered something that came to him out loud.

    -''About twenty years ago, I think, there was an incident where a prisoner forcibly insulted a guard, which is why the guards at Nouvelle Vague are so sensitive to the lower levels.''

    -''Kurururu- I heard that a child was born as a by-product of that unpleasant process.''

    -''You''re a frog, born and raised in a well, and you''ve never seen the outside world, have you? After all, what right does a bitch born of rape have to walk this earth? You''re worthless, and you''re stuck in these deep seas!''

    Garm''s records said so.

    Kirko was born and raised in Nouvelle Vague. A girl who knew nothing of the earth.

    "Hmmm. Unrequited love? Or longing? I''m not sure about the emotions of kids this age."

    Vikir muttered quietly to himself.

    Even though he had spent quite a bit of time at the Colosseo Academy, he still found it difficult to understand the teenage emotions of young people.

    However, he did know this.

    Both Garm, who wrote this diary, and the girl in it, Kirko, were blossoming 21 years old.

    What if they had attended the Colosseo Academy on earth instead of here in Nouvelle Vague?

    Kirko is a very talented girl, so maybe she would have been the head of the Cold Weapon Department. No, she might have gone beyond that and be student council president.

    Because from the glimpses Vikir had seen of her, her talent, her potential, her will to improve, was more than Tudor or Bianca or Sinir or Dolores.

    " ... but reality is harsh."

    Not everyone can be a flower and live beautifully.

    Where there is a top, there is a bottom.

    You didn''t have toe through the Age of Destruction to know that.

    Vikir closed the diary and turned away.

    He left the cramped stone chamber and closed the soundproof door behind him.

    Kikigeek- Tung!

    A narrow, smelly corridor opened up.

    Everywhere he looked, there was damp, slimy moss.

    The musty smell of sea moss, the salty dampness that clings to the skin.

    Cheap cigarette smoke hung from the salty, dripping ceiling.

    A constant smell of decay emanated from the crumbling ster in the corner of the corridor.

    Through a side door that was slightly open, he could see his fellow guard lying on his bunk, looking at a tattered pornographic magazine.

    (The magazine was over 60 years old, so the models in its pages were probably already dead.)

    Soon, it was time for roll call.

    The junior guards all came out with wide eyes and lined up in two rows facing each other in the corridor.

    There was no distinction between men and women as they shared a room.

    Due to the Nouvelle Vague''s directive that there are three genders: men, women, and guards, everyone here is considered to be of the same sex.

    Then.

    "...!"

    Vikir took note of the one person in the group of junior guards with rotten fish eyes.

    She was Kirko.

    Kirko lived in a cell diagonally across the room from Garm''s.

    ''It''s strange to see her in person after having seen her on paper.''

    Vikir was looking at Kirko in awe.

    ... snap!

    Someone pped Vikir hard on the back of the head.

    "...?"

    Vikir turns his head to look at something and sees the next room, and the guards across from him, giggling.

    "Hey, stupid Garm, spying on Kirko again today, you sullen pervert. You should know your ce."

    "Tidy up your clothes, straighten up your angles, and don''t show off your shitty uniform. Don''t you want to be seen as a jerk by the prisoners?"

    "In the meantime, why did you put an old name tag on it? Who took it off?"

    "As expected, he is like a ''Rotten Dog'' from morning."

    Aka ''Stupid Garm'', or ''Rotten Dog''. That was the nickname that always followed him.

    Vikir, who had read his diary, was of course well aware of this.

    ''Humans are like that everywhere.''

    In the army before the regression, in the Colosseo Academy afterwards.

    Humans will always bully those weaker than themselves, and when that bullying bes a systemic phenomenon within an organization, it actually serves to solidify it.

    So when Garm was bullied by his colleagues, his seniors and superiors turned a blind eye.

    If the other guards could build solidarity at the expense of Garm, it was a win-win situation.

    This was because it was a profitable business if one guard could be sacrificed to increase solidarity among the other guards.

    "You must be a bitzy today after your crazy shift yesterday."

    "Since you''re free, why don''t you go out and bully stupid Gareem?"

    "Hey, you stupid bastard, why didn''t you show up for the night watchst night? You weren''t even on duty. Were you really in distress?"

    "You do understand that failing to show up for inspection is a military offense, and you could end up with a ''ck tongue'', you know?"

    Then. Kirko''s eyes met those of one of the bullies who had been harassing Vikir.

    Seeing the mixture of pity and pathetess in her eyes, the bully chuckled and called out.

    "Hey, Kirko, why don''t youe to your boyfriend''s rescue, you two are in a rtionship!"

    All eyes then turned to Kirko and Garm.

    Kirko''s frown widens.

    "...crazy assholes."

    Kirko jerked her head away.

    Only the snickering mockery echoed behind her.

    Just then.

    TOOOOOOO-

    The horn sounded once more.

    Everyone wiped the smiles off their faces at this sudden rm, which soundedpletely unrted to the roll call.

    Suddenly, from the other side of the corridor, an off-duty guard burst into the room, shouting.

    "Riot, there''s a riot! There''s a riot! There''s a riot in the Level One area! Emergency deployment of suppression squad!"

 Chapter 385: The Rotten Dog of Nouvelle Vague (3)

    <h4>Chapter 385: The Rotten Dog of Nouvelle Vague (3)</h4>

    "You bastards! You want me to eat this? Are you crazy!?"

    "How can anyone work in a ce like this!"

    "At least give us a break!"

    "When are we going to see our families?"

    "Prisoners are people! They have human rights!"

    A group of prisoners on the first floor of Level 1 was making a ruckus.

    They were Nouvelle Vague''s newest arrival, overnight pups who hadn''t yet adjusted to the ecosystem in the midst of the chaos.

    "By the way, did you hear, there was an escape yesterday?"

    "Nouvelle Vague is surprisingly not that special."

    "The guards are showing up for duty, and it looks like it''s full of holes."

    "They must be weak. Maybe I should try to break out."

    They were low-level prisoners that the guards were too busy to pay attention to, so they were lucky to be located in the blind spot of the military discipline, so they hadn''t yet grasped the atmosphere.

    Then.

    jeobeog- jeobeog- jeobeog- jeobeog-

    The sound of military footsteps was loud and clear.

    Prisoners at Level 1 could be organized by the hands of lower-ranked guards.

    The guards, so-called lieutenants, lined up against the Level 1 prisoners.

    Each had a club, sword, whip, or axe in their hands.

    "...What, what are these deadly weapons?"

    "Are you trying to kill us?"

    "Are you crazy, you''re going to swing those things at us in handcuffs?"

    "You guys are out of your mind...."

    The prisoners seemed to cower at the mere sight of the guards'' weapons.

    That''s what you get for being a bunch of little chicks.

    The major-ranked guard at the front spoke to the second lieutenant and lieutenant-ranked guards at the back.

    "Listen carefully, the most riotous floor in the Nouvelle Vague is surprisingly Level 1, or Level 2."

    You know what you see. It''s an eternal truth.

    In Nouvelle Vague, lower-level prisoners tend to riot more and higher-level prisoners tend to riot less.

    This is because the higher-level prisoners feel the horrors of the ce more deeply and live to tell the tale, while the lower-level prisoners think that they can be more fearless because they have no eyes to see.

    "Especially those on Level 1, they don''t know what to expect. Especially the ones who are newer and less socialized, they will start riots, saying it''s a human right, an organized protest, or profanity."

    The lower-ranking guards listened calmly as their boss spoke.

    The major smirked and continued.

    "And we secretly condone, even encourage, riots on the lower levels, like Level 1 and Level 2. Sometimes, it is created artificially using nted insider. Although today was a spontaneous riot, it''s all for your practical experience."

    The Major''s words had a strange nuance to them.

    It was a tone that simultaneously instilled confidence in the junior guards and intimidated the prisoners.

    The prisoners stopped shouting and looked at each other, wondering if what they had done was actually the guards'' evil n.

    By the time they realized that there is a insider hiding inside, their cohesion had already broken down.

    In the midst of it all, the Major drives a wedge.

    "These are Level 1 prisoners, but they''re criminals who made a name for themselves on the ground, strong men who survived the transport to Nouvelle Vague and the entry process. They may be wearing BDISSEM handcuffs, but don''t let your guard down! Do you understand?"

    "Yes!"

    The junior guards shouted in unison.

    And with that, the bloody suppression began.

    It was amon thing in Nouvelle Vague.

    * * *

    Blood and gore sprayed into the air.

    The guards trampled and beat the prisoners senselessly with maces and clubs.

    Even if they were low-level guards, they could easily surpass the level of the prisoners on Level 1 wearing the BDISSEM restraints.

    "Hic! This is human rights abuse!"

    "Human rights? Why are you looking for them 10,000 meters below the surface?"

    One of the guards crushed the wailing prisoner''s face with a military boot.

    Lieutenant Kirko. She raised her head without even wiping the blood sttered on her face.

    Her cold, piercing gaze swept over the criminals.

    "There is no such thing as human rights for you, you unredeemable scum. No human rights for you dark-haired beasts, parasitising on the social system that ordinary citizens have worked so hard to build, and threatening their very safety."

    Under Kirko''s gaze, the prisoners shrank like squid tossed over a me.

    Just then.

    peoeog-

    A chain mmed into Kirko''s back from behind.

    A Level 1 prisoner in BDISSEM handcuffs and restraints red at Kirko with bloodshot eyes.

    X

    A man with an impressive cross-shaped scar on his forehead.

    "Hohoho- you know who I am, don''t you?"

    He said confidently.

    But Kirko only frowned as she touched her throbbing back.

    "No. I have no idea."

    "What, you don''t know me?"

    He gritted his teeth together, and then eximed.

    "I''m Attendance Number 8... No, I''m Pal Euspear, the ''Monster of the Crossroads''!"

    He was Pal Euspear, a prisoner who had been recently brought to Level 1.

    If there was one thing that setted him apart from the other prisoners, it''s that he used to be a prestigious academy student.

    He was a student at the Colosseo Academy, one of the best institutions in the empire, but at some point he fell into a life of crime and had been imprisoned here in Nouvelle Vague ever since.

    ''Damn it. I messed with two high-ranking nobles inside the Hell Tree and got punished outside of it... Who knew the Hell Tree would disappear so suddenly?''

    He had been trapped inside the Hell Tree that had suddenly appeared in the Colosseo Academy.

    He''d gotten off to a lucky start as all the old powers and hierarchies were reorganized, and with the stats and items he''d gained, he''d been able to take on the high-ranking children he''d never dared to look at before.

    Especially Dolores. Euspear, who had been targeting her, had been building his notoriety by harming countless ssmates, until suddenly the Hell Tree was gone and he was back in his original world.

    "Damn it. I thought the Hell Tree wouldst forever...."

    Naturally, the many people who had been victimized by him in the tower never forgot that debt and repaid it.

    After being expelled from school, Euspear fell into a life of crime and eventually ended up imprisoned here in Nouvelle Vague.

    However, he had a decent amount of stats from his time in the Hell Tree, so he didn''t suffer too much of a loss inbat while wearing the BDISSEM restraints.

    "Die, bitch!"

    Euspear wrapped the chain around Kirko''s neck, slipping it between the cuffs on each wrist.

    "Keugh!?"

    Kirko momentarily lost her grip on the longsword in her hand.

    Kirko hadn''t expected a prisoner with this much strength on Level 1.

    This guy should have been at least level 2, and at most level 3.

    He must have been hiding his power all this time.

    "...!"

    Kirko gritted her teeth and spun around.

    But Euspear was determined, locking on to her and holding her down.

    Rolling on the floor like that in the chaos of so many prisoners and guards, she would be out of sight in an instant.

    Even now, there wasn''t a single guard around to help Kirko.

    "Hehe- were there women like this in Nouvelle Vague? I''d like to unpack some of the things that have umted for the first time in a while."

    Euspear looked down at Kirko and licked his lips.

    Kirko squeezed her eyes shut.

    In all of her years as a guard at Nouvelle Vague, she''d always been prepared for the day when she''d have to face the harsh things.

    It had always been sharpened in her mind as shey in bed, as she stood watch alone in the silence of her post, as she showered, as she ate her meals.

    ''Today is the day.''

    The consequences of letting her guard down for a moment are frightening. Such is the life of a guard at Nouvelle Vague.

    Whatever the future holds for her, Kirko is determined to ept and take it all in stride.

    At that very moment, ...

    peoeog! hududug- hududug- hudug-

    Something hot sttered over Kirko''s face.

    "...?"

    Kirko narrowed her eyes, not knowing what the sticky liquid that covered her face was

    It was bright red blood.

    Blood that had spurted from the Euspear''s mouth as it rode over her body.

    "...ugg!? eueub! ugh!?

    Euspear was struggling with his head raised, looking very embarrassed.

    That''s because there was a thick, hard, and long stick that forced his mouth open and stuck deep into his throat.

    A three-tiered baton.

    It tore off Euspear''s upper and lower lips, knocked out all of his front teeth behind them, and burrowed into his esophagus.

    No wonder all the flesh and uv in his mouth was crushed in the process.

    "eueub! ub! eoeogh! gueogh!"

    Euspear struggled to spit out the baton that had been forced into his mouth, but it was impossible.

    The hand holding the baton had a tremendous amount of force and weight behind it.

    " ...Are you okay?"

    The man with the three-tiered baton asked Kirko in a nd voice.

    He was a man she knew well.

    Garm Nord.

    Age twenty-one. Rank: Second Lieutenant. A junior guard in the Nouvelle Vague and Kirko''s ally.

    Garm was looking at Kirko with an expressionless face.

    ssuug-

    A three-tiered baton slipped out of Euspear''s mouth.

    "Ewwgh! Gweeeeeegh! ...kuhugh!"

    As the three-tiered baton, which had been almost all the way into his stomach, was pulled out, Euspear vomited blood, tears, snot, and sweat.

    ppeoeog- jjeog!

    He was immediately knocked out by the stomp of a military boot on the back of his head.

    "...You?"

    Kirko stuttered and opened her mouth.

    ''I never thought I''d see the day when I''d get help from Garm, who used to be called ''Stupid Garm'' and ''Rotten Dog''.

    ''No, isn''t this the second time?''

    Kirko had unwittingly epted help from him before during a previous riot.

    But it felt a little different back then.

    Then.

    "Haa!?"

    Kirko realized that now was not the time to be lost in thought.

    She was in the middle of a battle, a prisoner riot in full swing.

    So Kirko shouted in panic.

    "This is no time for this, Garm! What happened to your sector and why did youe here? You need to subdue the prisoners in your sector before you help me...!"

    But she couldn''t finish her sentence.

    For Garm opened his mouth to answer her briefly.

    "Does not exist anymore."

    "...What?"

    For a moment, Kirko doubted her ears.

    But it soon turned out that her performing ears had done their job well.

    Garm''s three-tiered baton, bent into an L shape and dripping blood.

    Behind him, more than a dozen prisoners wereying dead and writhing in a pool of blood.

    "No more prisoners to suppress."

    The short, echoing words of Garm were enough to stun not only Kirko, but also the others who had just rushed up behind him.

 Chapter 386: The Rotten Dog of Nouvelle Vague (4)

    <h4>Chapter 386: The Rotten Dog of Nouvelle Vague (4)</h4>

    "...."

    Kirko looked up, a puzzled expression on her face.

    Normally, Garm would have been embarrassed and averted his gaze, but somehow he didn''t care that Kirko was looking up at him.

    But that was to be expected.

    Garm was Vikir in disguise.

    An escaped prisoner who became a guard overnight. Vikir was now standing here in the shoes of the dead Garm.

    "Stay back, it''s dangerous."

    Vikir''s words were not spoken for Kirko''s sake, but to honor what he had learned from the diary.

    -I want to show her the outside world.

    -If I could just once show her the blue skies and salt-freekes and wild animals running through the fields where I was born...

    His wishes were now forever unfulfilled.

    Vikir knew the wishes that Garm had left behind in his palm-sized diary, pressed tightly against the old, damp note so as not to smudge it.

    And at the same time, he knew it was impossible.

    Garm was already dead and gone.

    ''However... I can help this woman you wanted so badly to protect to the end, to get out of this ce.''

    As far as Vikir could see, Kirko had immense talent and potential, and could make a great contribution to the human race when she grew up.

    So Vikir decided to protect Kirko as much as possible.

    To raise her as a secret weapon of the Alliance, a sword that could be used against demons in the future.

    ''In my previous life, she probably died namelessly somewhere, but... that will not be the case in this life.''

    That would be the way to honor Garm''s will. It was a win-win situation.

    With that, Vikir picked up his three-tiered baton, which had bent from being swung too hard, and began beating the prisoners in front of him with it.

    Ppeoeog! Ppeog! Kwagik-

    The skulls and eyeballs of the prisoners who charged at Kirko exploded.

    Many had their teeth knocked out and their tongues cut out.

    Suddenly, Vikir''s attention was drawn to the face of a prisoner sprawled on the floor.

    X

    Seeing it, Vikir nodded.

    ''Hmm? It''s been a while since I''ve seen him.''

    There was no way he could not remember the mark he had once carved.

    ''Was your name Pal Euspear?''

    They had crossed paths a few times during their time at the Colosseo Academy.

    Vikir remembered the face and the name, having fought with him when he was in his dog form, starting with the time he''d scolded him for bullying Piggy when he was a new student.

    ''I heard you were punished for causing a ruckus in the Hell Tree.''

    Although he was struggling outside the Tower, inside the Tower he was acting viciously against his cool ssmates and seems to have suffered harsh political retaliation.

    Vikir knew that he had character problems, but he didn''t expect to see him again at Nouvelle Vague.

    ''Well, at least it''s nice to see a fellow ssmate.''

    Vikir kicked Euspear one more time in the stomach in a gesture of goodwill.

    He could feel his intestines rupture under his toes, but he didn''t care.

    From then on, Vikir continued to swing the three-tiered baton.

    At first, he didn''t have time to control his strength, but now he''s got the hang of it and was able to subdue his opponent in moderation.

    A moderate suppression that would only break a few teeth and fingers or dislocate a limb.

    Prisoners who fought back would have their toes crushed by the heels of military boots, rendering them unable to stand at all.

    All of this was done as naturally as water.

    Vikir moved like a shadow between the fiercely fighting guards and prisoners, swinging his three-tiered baton with ease.

    Already more than a dozen prisoners were bleeding to death as Vikir''s three-tiered baton slithered soundlessly between their sides and crotches.

    The thing was, neither the fallen prisoners nor the guards who had knocked them down and were blinded by excitement, see who had subdued so many prisoners.

    ... But.

    Just one person. There was one person who watched Vikir''s actions from start to finish.

    Kirko. She was watching Vikir''s every move with a mesmerized gaze.

    ''What is that? Was Garm always that strong?''

    She had never seen Garm seriously engaged in suppression before.

    He was born so gentle and kind that he was incapable of causing harm to others.

    Every time Kirko saw him, she thought to herself, ''He doesn''t seem to be fit to be a guard''.

    If that''s the case, then why did hee all the way here and suffer such hardships, she couldn''t understand or empathize with him.

    Kirko even felt a little pathetic.

    ...But the Garm she saw with her naked eyes waspletely different from the image she had of him before.

    Had he awakened after Sakkuth''s riot?

    The way he was beating the prisoners with his expressionless face, it was like he was a veteran among veterans.

    It was like watching a mad dog who had spent his life harming others.

    The stealthy movements, the outbursts of violence, the swirling strength, the outstandingbat prowess... but nevertheless, the emotionless demeanor!

    All these things made Kirko feel a shiver run down her spine.

    If there was such a thing as a perfect prison guard in the world, wouldn''t it probably look like that?

    "Kughh!"

    Kirko scrambled to her feet and gripped the handle of her sword tightly.

    Her back and legs throbbed, but she couldn''t afford to rest like this.

    As long as she was an ace, she couldn''t afford to lose to the Stupid Garm, Nouvelle Vague''s Rotten Dog.

    "Hwaaaap!"

    She joined the fray, shouting in triumph, and followed closely behind Garm.

    Once again, the bloodbath was raging.

    * * *

    About twenty minutester. The situation waspletely under control.

    The organizers of the riot were shackled in everrger and heavier BDISSEM handcuffs and led off to their cells, while the rest of the prisoners were thrown back into their cells in rags.

    No medical treatment or meals, of course. Tomorrow, at 4am, the samebor will be imposed.

    If they cannot endure it, they will die ...

    The Major in charge of the suppression at the rear nodded with satisfaction.

    "It was indeed a perfect suppression. We were a little overwhelmed by the madness of the prisoners in the beginning, but the second half was a game changer. Well done, boys!"

    The Major was particrly salivating over the left wing of the suppression squad.

    "The left wing, Group B, did a great job, and that''s why we were able to make the early breakthrough so quickly. Who''s in Group B?"

    The major pushed his way through the bloodied and gasping junior guards to the area where the first prize of the day, Group B, was located.

    And there in Group B stood Kirko.

    The moment the major saw Kirko, he eximed.

    "I knew it was you! You''re even better than before! You cleared the prisoners on the left wing with such speed that the reinforcements were able to spread evenly to the right wing in time. Well done!"

    At the Major''s praise, all the lower ranking guards around Kirko looked at her with envious eyes.

    But.

    "...I didn''t do it."

    Kirko shook her head, denying the fact.

    "There''s someone else who did. Over there...."

    Kirko, who was about to look back at Garm, paused for a moment.

    Garm was not where he was supposed to be standing.

    Behind them, with the cleaning team, he was cleaning up blood and stone debris.

    This was something that was usually done by guards whose achievements were so minimal that they were excluded from public affairs.

    ''No, why is he in there....''

    Kirko was about to open her mouth in disbelief.

    "Such humility to give credit to your colleagues! What an example to follow!"

    The Major nodded his head, clearly convinced that Kirko was the hero of the day.

    Meanwhile, the other junior guards behind Kirko had their say.

    "It''s you, Kirko. You always do well in every riot."

    "Well, this one was a bit of a riot, but you''ve beaten your own record, Kirko."

    "She''s a genius. She''s not in our league. She''ll be a captain in three years at least."

    "That''s true. Oh, and by the way, where the fuck did this asshole go?"

    They soon started looking for an easy target for bullying.

    Garm. Once again, the one behind the scenes.

    The junior guards gave him a stern look.

    "Hey, you didn''t do anything this time, did you?"

    "Didn''t you catch another prisoner?"

    "Anyway, I heard you were holding onto Kirko''s ankles."

    "Wow, Kirko must be really good to be able to take on such an idiot."

    They began to giggle and throw punches at Garm.

    Hitting him on the back, arms, and back of the head with their fists, stroking his hair, and so on.

    ... However, Garm''s reaction was a little different than before.

    "...."

    After so many blows and so many swings, the three-tiered baton was bent.

    The blood of the prisoners hadn''t even dried yet, and it sliced through the lower abdomen of the junior guards in the blink of an eye.

    Pug-pug-pug!

    The sound of a hammer hitting a snail.

    "Uh-hugh!"

    "Kuagh!"

    "Kuhughh!"

    "Kehok!"

    The four junior guards froze, clutching their stomachs.

    "Hey, what is it?"

    The Major turned his head to see Garm holding his stomach and supporting his four fallenrades.

    "It seems to be an acute stomach ache. I''m guessing it''s from straining, so I''ll take them to the infirmary...."

    "Tsk tsk �C I can''t believe you''re that nervous about this little riot. Fools."

    The Major quickly turned his attention away from the junior guards.

    Garm turned to hisrades, who wereughing at him, and stalked off.

    "Now, my friends. Let''s forget about the past and discuss the future."

    His eyes were the same as they had been when he had subdued the prisoners earlier.

    There was no hiding his power, no room for mercy.

    And as she watched Garm''s back, Kirko could only mutter quietly to himself.

    " ... As expected, something is strange."

 Chapter 387: The Rotten Dog of Nouvelle Vague (5)

    <h4>Chapter 387: The Rotten Dog of Nouvelle Vague (5)</h4>

    Another page has been torn from the Nouvelle Vague calendar.

    At the end of each month, the guards are evaluated at the end of the month.

    The Nouvelle Vaguebor system is somewhat unusual, with one guard leading 12 prisoners to work.

    At this point, the guard is like a god to the 12 prisoners in charge.

    Whether he uses corporal punishment, how much there is to do, how much he makes them work, and how much he lets them rest are all at his discretion.

    This group is changed once a month.

    At the end of the month, both the prisoners and the guards are divided.

    So the guards have a month to work with the prisoners in their group, and they can decide whether to punish them, reward them, make the work harder, or make it easier.

    However, this did not mean that the guards were always able to amodate the prisoners.

    The guards at Nouvelle Vague were also subject to evaluations at the end of the month, as mentioned above.

    They receive a score based on how much work theyplete with the 12 prisoners they are responsible for during the month, which is then factored into their performance review for promotion.

    The guards had to get the maximum amount ofbor out of the prisoners for their own score.

    It was up to the guards to use any method to achieve this.

    Some guards would beat the prisoners with knives or whips, restrict their food, sleep, rest, or solitary confinement, while others would appease them by giving them a little more bread or work tools.

    Prisoners also had to work hard to ensure that the guards in charge of them did not receive poor scores.

    Otherwise, the guards, who had the power of life and death over them, could do anything to them.

    ...Well, whatever.

    At the end of the month, an announcement was made in Nouvelle Vague.

    It was a ranked list of the best performing guards.

    It''s apetition between the guards to get a good ranking on the list.

    There was a constant battle of nerves, with guards cheating in the ratings to get a good, well behaved prisoner into their group, bribing them with riches to get them transferred, or sneaking bread or tools for the other group.

    Of course, goods in the Nouvelle Vague are limited, and if someone gets an extra meal, someone else has to go without.

    One of the more talkative members of the group was the junior guard, Second Lieutenant Garm Nord.

    Garm''s life was always miserable.

    No motivation, no grades, no future.

    Living up to his name, ''Stupid Garm'' or ''Rotten Dog'', Garm was always given only the rudest prisoners to work with.

    Bread and work tools were always stolen by other guards, and Garm had to give up his own meals to encourage the prisoners to work.

    Of course, the prisoners in Garm''s group were not at all eager to do theirbor.

    Once they were in Garm''s group, they had no intention to perform well, and Garm''s timid nature meant that he rarely used corporal punishment.

    As a result, he was always ignored, even by his fellow guards.

    Needless to say, he was bullied by his own colleagues.

    In terms of grades calcted by adding up the progress of construction in the area in charge, the number of prisoners sent to solitary confinement, and the number of riots suppressed, Garm has never been outside ofst ce.

    However, an unusual and unprecedented turn of events has urred.

    <List of Report Cards>

    �� Name/Rank/Task Completion Rate

    Garm Nord / �� / 108%.

    Kirko Grimm / ���� / 96%.

    ... / ... / 89%

    ...

    .

    .

    Garm has always been inst ce.

    This time, he scored first in the monthly evaluation.

    He even exceeded the workload guidelines set by his superiors.

    Instead of achieving 100%, he exceeded it by 108%. This was unusual among junior guards.

    So whenever the junior guards got together these days, they always talked about the report card.

    "Wow �C did you see the report card this time? It was crazy."

    "I found out for the first time today that the taskpletion rate can exceed 100%."

    "You know, they always set the achievement rate a little too high, just to make sure you don''t hit it."

    "Exactly. That''s why even Kirko only gets around 95% to 96% every time."

    "That''s huge. Did you see the gap with third ce? 7%."

    "But the gap between first and second is 12%. How is that possible?"

    "Did Garm ever do that well in the first ce?"

    "Of course not, it''s ''Stupid Garm'', he was always in the bottom 40%."

    "What, he''s been hiding his power and acting like a nerd all this time? That''s a pretty damning development...."

    Then. The atmosphere in the dining hall, where the junior guards were gathered, suddenly became quiet.

    It was because Kirko, who had always been in charge of the first ce, and who was ranked second in the monthly evaluation, appeared.

    ...tag!

    Kirko set her te down on the table and sat down to eat.

    Grilled waterfowl, fermented sea catfish, boiled peas, and a cup of sea cow''s milk were on the menu.

    As Kirko ate in silence, she heard the chatter of the other junior guards.

    "Kirko, does she look like she''s in a bad mood today?"

    "Of course she is. She just lost first ce to that Stupid Garm."

    " ...If this continues, isn''t Garm going to get promoted first?"

    Kirko stopped chewing her peas.

    Then she turned her head in displeasure.

    Then.

    "...!"

    Both Kirko and the junior guards who were talking behind her back stopped in unison.

    Garm. The subject of the conversation had entered the dining hall.

    * * *

    Garm. No Vikir was chewing on a boiled pea, thinking over his n.

    ''To activate Poseidon, I need to apply as much mana, or physical impact, as possible to the detonation point.''

    To do that, it was much easier to act as a guard than a prisoner.

    He could keep an eye on Poseidon''s behavior at all times.

    However, ess to Poseidon in the depths of Level 9''sbor camps was not possible with a lower ranking guard.

    ''It would be beneficial for me to be promoted at least to the rank of Captain, and safely to Major.''

    A captain wears the insignia of three diamonds.

    A Major wears a single leaf.

    This should be enough so that there is no hindrance to activities.

    ''... Mid-level guards of the rank of captain and above are allowed to roam thebor camp without reporting. It will be possible to activate Poseidon secretly at night.''

    To do so, he had to earn his merits diligently.

    Luckily, unlike the regr army, where promotion could take months or even years, in the Nouvelle Vague the rewards for performance were quick and certain.

    This was especially true since so many guards were killed or crippled during their service.

    Vikir was thinking about this and that.

    ...Thud!

    Something was ced on the table in front of him.

    It was a powder in a paper bag.

    "Garm Nord. You have a birthday today, right? Congrattions~"

    The cook tapped Vikir on the shoulder.

    Only then did Vikir realize that Garm''s birthday was today.

    "...?"

    The paper bag was filled with a white powder.

    He dipped his finger in and tasted it, and it tasted sweet.

    "Is that sugar?"

    It was the same one in Garm''s diary.

    At Nouvelle Vague, a bag of sugar is given to each guard on their birthday as a gift.

    However, the sugar in the bag had a somewhat unpleasant taste.

    It was the same white powder, so it was hard to see, but there seemed to be a significant amount of salt mixed in.

    "What is it?"

    Vikir shook the envelope and scratched his head.

    Then.

    "Are you a real idiot or what?"

    A sarcastic voice came from beside him.

    Vikir turned to see Kirko standing there, arms crossed.

    "Same reaction every year on your birthday. That''s why the others call you ''Stupid Garm''."

    Kirko peered into the bag of sugar in Vikir''s hand and shook her head.

    "Colonel D''Ordume must have done it, from what I''ve heard he has a sneaky sweet tooth. I''m sure he''s embarrassed for himself, so he filled it withmon salt."

    "I see. Blindfolded."

    "Don''t you know why Colonel D''Ordume was demoted to Nouvelle Vague in the first ce? He was caught mixing sand and rice bran into the rice he gave his subordinates when he was serving on the ground. He ims he was discriminated against because he''s a Beastman, but in fact, it was because of embezzlement of military supplies."

    Kirko grumbled, saying, ''I can''t spoil a dog.''

    She must not have a normal personality because she was swearing at her boss as well.

    "...Anyway. Well, happy birthday."

    Kirko hesitated for a moment before continuing.

    "And thank you for helping mest time."

    The words that followed were so muffled that even Vikir, whose hearing reached a superhuman level, had a hard time understanding them.

    ''Birthday.''

    Vikir thought about the day he was born.

    A date he didn''t remember or attach much significance to.

    It was amon thread in all of his lives, the three lives he had lived before his regression, the years of old age he had spent in the Hell Tree, and now this one.

    In the Nouvelle Vague, a birthday was merely a low point in the gloomy,nguid passage of time.

    It was always the same in the Age of Destruction, in the Abyss Tower, and in Baskerville.

    The sugar quickly became sticky due to the sticky moisture.

    The tangy fishy smell of the peas was stifling.

    ...tag!

    Vikir picked up his empty te and headed for the exit.

    Kirko looked back at Vikir with a slightly embarrassed expression on her face.

    "... is weird, too."

    Muttering quietly to herself.

    (Proofreader : What ! Another one ! It''s the 5th !!! Camus, Aiyen, Dolores, Sinir, now Kirko! Haaa man I''m so jealous of you TT)

    * * *

    For the next few days, Kirko kept a close eye on Vikir.

    ''Garm, is he always like that?''

    She had watched him asionally since they were children.

    The Garm she''d seen had always been pathetic and stupid, but not to the point of disrespect, unlike the others.

    Just someone who didn''t fit in here in Nouvelle Vague, that''s all.

    Kirko hated Garm for some reason, though she wondered if it was because he had lived on the surface as a child.

    For her, born in Nouvelle Vague and never having seen the surface, the surface was represented by Garm''s image.

    Idle, wimpy, not very fast, and somewhat timid. A boy who had never shown any signs of struggle orpetition.

    ... But recently, his behavior has changed.

    He''s been leading prisoners to achieve workloads that were thought impossible, and he''s been scoring big on physical fitness tests and written papers.

    Gradually, the way his fellow guards looked at him began to change.

    The usual indifference, or even disrespect, gradually gave way to a friendly, friendly attitude.

    But for some reason, Kirko didn''t want to admit it.

    ...inferiorityplex.

    Maybe it was because she didn''t want to acknowledge the surface world represented by Garm.

    Maybe it was a manifestation of theplex of being a frog in a well, no matter how good she was here.

    Could it be that? Kirko was stirring up an emotion in Garm that she had never felt before, or with anyone, for that matter:petition.

    ''How the hell do they make you work? What do I have to do to achieve that amount of work?''

    Kirko had secretly followed Garm and the 12 prisoners in his group as they went down to do theirbor.

    Kirko wondered how the hell he could get the prisoners to achieve the ridiculous feat of 108%.

    Then.

    Kirko watched as Garm led the prisoners to thebor area.

    Kirko was stunned.

    "...!?"

    Something she could never have imagined was happening.

    (Proofreader : I''m sure Vikir is working with the prisoners...)

 Chapter 388: The Worst Torture (1)

    <h4>Chapter 388: The Worst Torture (1)</h4>

    Another few months have passed since then.

    The anomaly in the monthly evaluation was not a single urrence anymore, but had be the norm.

    1st ce. Taskpletion rate 114%.

    1st ce. Taskpletion rate 121%.

    1st ce. Taskpletion rate 136%.

    1st ce. Taskpletion rate 142%.

    1st ce. Taskpletion rate 155%.

    1st ce. Taskpletion rate 161%.

    1st ce. Taskpletion rate 178%.

    1st ce. Taskpletion rate 185%.

    .

    .

    The other junior guards could only gape at his ever-increasing record of overachievement.

    By then, nobody among the junior guards looked down on him.

    It was natural to be treated as a colleague by them, and it was crowded with people who approached first because they wanted to hang out with him.

    "Hey, Garm. You were first ce this month too."

    "It seems like all of the prisoners in your charge are very disciplined."

    "What''s your secret?"

    "Let''s y poker after dinner."

    The first ones to pretend to be friendly were surprisingly the first to be beaten by Garm.

    After that, one by one, the number of guys who pretended to be friends increased.

    But there were some who had always kept a certain distance.

    Kirko was one of them.

    "...."

    She was always number one, but suddenly she was number two.

    Ever since then, Kirko had been watching Garm.

    As she ate her meal in silence, she thought back to the scene she''d seen of Garm at work a few months earlier.

    ''I can''t believe he was doing that.''

    It turns out that Garm''s method of overachieving was actually quite simple.

    Nothing much at first.

    He beat the prisoners'' vital parts with a triple baton, telling them not to bezy.

    Garm knew.

    Like Santa us, who knew who was a good child and who was a bad child, Garm knew all too well which parts of the prisoners'' bodies to hit to maximize the pain, but not interfere with their ability to perform theirbor.

    The three-tiered baton did not rest as if it was pounding meat for pork cutlet.

    With each swing of the three-tiered baton, the prisoners, who had defied him, turned 180 degrees and acted as if they would jump into the fire at hismand.

    These prisoners, all of them known for their temper and strong-will on Level 1 or Level 2, were transformed into perfectly obedient workers after a month of working with Vikir, a.k.a. Garm.

    Even the intelligent prisoners, who used to tease the guards not with strength but with brains, psychological warfare, and a sharp tongue, trembled at the sight of Garm.

    ''But up to that point, it was something I could think about.''

    Up until this point, Kirko hadn''t seen anything out of the ordinary.

    Garm''s method, or as it was sometimes called, the "Rotten Dog", was incredibly efficient and straightforward, but it''s not all that different from Kirko''s method.

    If that''s the case, Kirko was already doing a good enough job.

    ... However, there was something special about the way Garm worked.

    peoeog- pasag!

    Garm himself began to join in thebor with a shovel and pickaxe.

    As an onlooker, Kirko couldn''t help but raise a question mark over his head.

    A guard doingbor? How is this any different from a real prisoner?

    ''No, why would a guard be in between the prisoners in the first ce...?''

    But regardless of that thought, Garm was very good at hisbor.

    It was as if he had been doing it his whole life.

    Garm nagged the prisoners one by one, as if he had experience doingbor himself, and as if he had decades of experience building up his skills.

    If a prisoner tried even the slightest trick or worked inefficiency, the nagging came back.

    The prisoners werepletely deprived of the leisure they had gained little by little while avoiding the eyes of the guards.

    But that didn''t stop him from scouring the prisoners.

    ''... the rumors were true.''

    Garm shared his entire meal with the prisoners.

    She didn''t know what they were eating, but they didn''t show any signs of malnutrition.

    ''But it seems to be a little different than the rumors?''

    From what Kirko had heard, Garm was a pathetic man who was deprived of his meal by the prisoners.

    But what about the reality?

    The prisoners looked at Garm like he was a monster, doing morebor all morning and afternoon than all twelve of thembined, while never eating lunch.

    Strong, overwhelming, all-knowing, charismatic.

    Whether they were giant thugs, cunning maniptors, intelligent criminals, or naturallyzy ckers, the prisoners were allmbs before Garm.

    Even if she knew how to do it, she wouldn''t dare to follow.

    Kirko finished her recollections with a shake of her head.

    ''What kind of a guard would do that to a prisoner if he did the work himself?''

    * * *

    But Vikir had a different idea.

    ''It would be much faster for me to do thebor myself than for the prisoners to do it for me.''

    The goal was performance, and then promotion.

    Sooner orter, he''d have to earn the right tomand high-level prisoners and activate the Poseidon in the Level Ten area.

    Of course, right now there were a lot of prisoners digging, and the impact was probably being absorbed by the roots of the Poseidon.

    ''But there''s nothing like a direct impact on the surface of the shell.''

    So Vikir couldn''t wait to get promoted and move up the ranks to deal with bigger, stronger, more ferocious prisoners.

    If they didn''t listen to him, he would starve them and beat them.

    A little bit of the torture he''d learnt in the Age of Destruction, coupled with the ability to sneakily trigger the Starvation Drought, could bring a prisoner down to their very soul.

    ''One of these days, surely D''Ordume will give me instructions. Get rid of those pesky explosives.''

    That would be the big opportunity.

    That would be the time when the prelude to a full-scale jailbreak would take ce, so he had to time it right.

    Right on time.

    "Attention, everyone!"

    A guard burst into the dining hall.

    It was a mid-level guard of the rank of Major, the rank that Vikir was currently aiming for, with a single leaf insignia attached.

    "There''s a riot! All guards on duty and those on standby are to assemble! Tell those off duty to do so immediately!"

    The atmosphere in the dining hall was tense.

    As if that weren''t enough, the Major blurted out a shocking statement.

    "Riot! Level 8!"

    A riot by the prisoners of Level 8.

    It was a lot different from the riots of the low-level prisoners on Level 1 or Level 2.

    Theplexions of the lower-level guards turned white, and the middle-level guards also stiffened their expressions.

    The Major broke out in a cold sweat.

    "The reason we''re gathering all the low-level guards is because of the tactics. The senior guards are currently absent."

    D''Ordume and Souare made a rare trip to the ground.

    It was a call from the prison warden, Lieutenant General Orka, who said that the convoy was understaffed.

    "Colonel D''Ordume and Souare, they are on the ground escorting new prisoners. Brigadier-General BDISSEM and Brigadier-General Flubber are off... Commander ck Tongue is too dangerous, as you all know, and if he makes a move, his navel could be bigger than his stomach. We''ll have to make do on our own."

    The riot of the Level 8 prisoners was so terrifying that even the Major-level guards were terrified.

    Naturally, the lower-ranking guards, the so-called Lieutenants, looked on, not daring to step forward.

    Then.

    Drrrr-

    The sound of a chair being dragged across the floor could be heard.

    Everyone''s eyes turned to see Garm walking out with a nonchnt expression.

    There was no worry, no hesitation, just an immediate reaction.

    Then.

    ...tud!

    Someone grabbed him by the wrist.

    It was Kirko, sitting at a table diagonally across from him, observing him.

    "Hey, are you crazy?"

    She said in a small voice.

    "It''s Level 8. We''re dead if we go."

    "Then what are we going to do? They tell us toe."

    "...."

    At Garm''s words, Kirko fell silent.

    After all, you can''t just not go when you''re ordered to.

    To a ce where there was a 98% chance of being killed.

    "Let''s go see what the situation is."

    Vikir walked away with a nonchnt expression.

    His demeanor was so calm that it was almost as if he was going somewhere good and doing something good.

    Eventually, the other junior guards also rose from their seats, their bodies and minds heavy.

    Wasn''t Nouvelle Vague a ce where amand is amand, and a protest is impossible?

    Everyone walked down the corridor, anxious and nervous.

    And it was Vikir who stood at the head of the group.

    Unlike the rest of the group, Vikir''s eyes were calm and bright.

    ''Maybe this is a good opportunity.''

    Is there anything more helpful in personnel evaluation than a riot by high-level prisoners?

 Chapter 389: The Worst Torture (2)

    <h4>Chapter 389: The Worst Torture (2)</h4>

    ...Boom!

    The rocks shattered, sending aftershocks through the area.

    At the center of the encirclement of guards, arge man roared.

    Sakkuth De Leviathan. He was the one who started the riot on level 8 this day.

    The guards shouted.

    "Hey! Come on, asshole, for how long have you been out of solitary confinement?"

    "Shit, this is the second time, you want to go to solitary confinement again!"

    "If you don''t behave yourself, I can really make your life suck!"

    But even in the face of a siege of swords, axes, and maces, Sakkuth''s insane roar did not subside at all.

    "The Queen has abandoned me! I failed to fulfill her orders toe out after ''Him'', and that''s why she''s abandoned me! The fact that she hasn''t given me a single word about my escape in all this time means she''s abandoned me! It''s as in as day! Aaaaah! Let me out of here, or kill me!"

    He was insane, even at first nce.

    Sticky saliva dripped from the corners of his mouth.

    The blood vessels in his extremely bloodshot eyes wriggled like intestinal worms, threatening to burst through the surface of his eyeballs.

    Sakkuth struggled, iling at the BDISSEM chains on his wrists, and each time he did, droplets of ck blood sttered from the wounds across his body.

    hududug- hududug- hududug- hududug-

    The guards were extremely vignt to keep the spit and blood from touching them.

    "Ughh, it''s the blood of the gue leper!"

    "Careful, if you touch that, you''ll get the gue right away. ''Red Death'' or something...."

    "I heard it was the worst gue that almost wiped out the natives of Jungle Red & ck Mountain?"

    "An unidentified gue that hasn''t been sanitized by the sulfur shower at entrance. Avoid it at all costs."

    "Well, then why do we keep confronting me like this?"

    "Then why don''t youe over and get him? I hear he''s from an extremely poisonnous family."

    "I''ll tell you what. The Leviathan family threw him out of the family because they couldn''t control him."

    As if that wasn''t enough, Sakkuth bit his tongue and spat out a fountain of blood from his mouth.

    Puhhhhhhh-!

    The fog of blood spewed from his mouth rose in a frenzy, causing the guards to scramble like sliced squid.

    A pandemic. An infectious disease of the highest order. In a limited and closed space like Nouvelle Vague, it is a phenomenon to be most wary of. (Proofreader: the return of Covid 19!!)

    This wasn''t just a matter of losing strength or mana.

    Lieutenant Colonel Bastille, standing at the head of the siege, wrinkled his brow in frustration.

    "Damn. He''s nothing in terms of strength, but his gue poison is the problem."

    The adjutant next to him spoke up.

    "Shall we bring in the five wardens?"

    "How am I supposed to get them if they''re not here? Colonels D''Ordume and Souar�� are on ground duty with the convoy."

    "I''ll try sending someone to Brigadier General Flubber one more time."

    "Arthur. We''ve already sent men twice, and the fact that they''re still not back must mean they''ve been ''eaten''. Don''t waste any more lives against a creature that doesn''t even have intelligence."

    "So even Brigadier General BDISSEM...?"

    "She''s the heart of Nouvelle Vague security, and she shouldn''t be allowed toe to a scene like this. If Warden Orca knew, he''d be furious."

    Four of the 5 wardens were a definite no-go.

    That left only one man left.

    The adjutant spoke thest name with the most cautious demeanor he had ever disyed.

    "...What about Colonel ck Tongue?"

    Bastille''s face stiffened at the question.

    He answered without the slightest hesitation.

    "Not that asshole."

    "Ha, but aside from Brigadier Flubber, isn''t he the only one who can subdue that monster right now?"

    "Bringing in a psychotic lunatic like Colonel ck Tongue to capture a mere Level 8 prisoner is ridiculous, it would make his navel bigger than his stomach."

    Lt. Colonel Bastille was a well-bnced man in all areas of his career, with moderate strength, moderate personality, and moderate work ethic.

    It''s been a long time since he''s looked this frustrated.

    "Damn it. We have a record number of residents this time. This is the first time Colonel D''Ordume and Colonel Souare have been on the ground at the same time. What the hell has been happening on the groundtely...."

    Colonel D''Ordume and Colonel Souare, as well as Warden Orca.

    The simultaneous absence of these three, the core power of the Nouvelle Vague, had been causing a lot ofmotiontely.

    Just then.

    Hwaak-!

    Sakkuth quickly broke through the siege and rushed forward.

    Spraying blood everywhere, he quickly grabbed a lowly guard by the scruff of the neck who hadn''t managed to dodge.

    ...Sizzle!

    The unfortunate junior guard was Kirko Grimm.

    "Don''t interfere with me, or I''ll snap this bitch''s head right off."

    Shakkuth growled, one hand clutching at Kirko''s throat.

    Kirko shuddered twice, once from the unimaginable strength of Sakkuth''s grip, and again from the sickening stench of blood that emanated from his body.

    If she made a mistake, she would die with her neck snapped, or she would die covered in blood mixed with a terrible gue poison.

    "A hostage situation?"

    "What are you going to do?"

    "What do you want, you madman!"

    The guardsughed harshly.

    "What do I want? Nothing, I just want to enjoy my ruined life and watch you guys mess around. Oh, and you''re going to have to stop working on Level 10 for a few months, because I''m going to spill a lot of blood."

    After he finished speaking, Sakkuth spat on the floor of thebor camp.

    pusisisisisig-

    The dirt near where Sakkuth''s spit had fallen was dissolving with an unpleasant sound and smell.

    Lt. Colonel Bastille narrowed his eyes on Sakkuth hostage, Kirko.

    "A hostage situation, and now you''re doing all kinds of things."

    "Kurururu! In an atmosphere like this, there should be at least one hostage."

    "If you inflict even the slightest harm on that friend, you will not die well."

    "Go ahead. Kurururu! I was abandoned anyway."

    When the confrontation between Lieutenant Colonel Bastille and Shakkuth continues.

    "Lt. Colonel, I''m fine!"

    Kirko struggled to speak.

    "There can be no negotiations with a prisoner, I don''t care about me, so please proceed with the suppression... kuck!"

    Kirko couldn''t finish her sentence.

    Because Sakkuth mmed her to the ground and then lifted her back up.

    "Ugh! You bastard!?"

    Kirko spat out blood from her nose and mouth and looked up.

    Sakkuth then stomped on Kirko''s face with his foot, crushing it.

    "Kurururu... I guess you''re mistaken, but the reason they can''t attack me is because they''re afraid of my gue. Not because they''re protecting some low-level guards.

    "...Ughhh!"

    Kirko tried to reach for the longsword at her waist, but there was no way he would just leave it behind.

    Sakkuth used the chains on his wrists to wrap around Kirko''s sword and brought it down against her throat.

    udeudeudeug!

    Kirko raised her mana, but even so, she couldn''tpletely shake off Sakkuth''s strength.

    Furthermore.

    "Oooh, keep quiet or I''ll spit blood all over your bitch''s face."

    "...."

    It was impossible to resist Sakkuth, who was threatening with a gue as a weapon.

    As Kirko bit her lip in frustration, Sakkuth chuckled.

    "For a scumbag born from a guard who was raped by a prisoner, you''re quick on the subject. Kurururu!"

    "...."

    Kirko gritted her teeth, even as her stomach turned.

    There''s not much she can do about it, however, due to Sakkuth''s strength and the gue factor he possesses.

    Lieutenant Colonel Bastille muttered bitterly when he saw that his subordinate, though a junior, was being thoroughly manipted.

    "...In the end, there is nothing we can do"

    The sacrifice of the little ones for the greater cause is inevitable. It is necessary for the survival of the group.

    The situation had to be contained as quickly as possible before the damage was done.

    The sacrifice of a lowly guard is a cheap one.

    Lt. Colonel Bastille took advantage of the moment when Sakkuth''s attention was focused on Kirko to send a hand signal.

    He ordered all the senior guards to raise their weapons.

    "Prepare to attack, everyone! We need to behead him as quickly as possible... huh?

    But Lt. Colonel Bastille''s order to charge was cut off in mid-sentence.

    jeobeog-jeobeoh-jeobeog.

    A single footstep stepped out from among the guards and headed towards Sakkuth''s direction.

    A look of utter calm. A look of nonchnce. As if he were taking a stroll.

    It was Garm, or rather, Vikir.

    Vikir spoke in his usual nd voice.

    "Construction must not be stopped because of your contaminated blood."

    "...?"

    Vikir''s words caused a collective gasp and a shake of the heads of the assembled guards.

    ''Oh, wait, that''s not it.''

    Vikir realized he''d been a little too honest at the moment, so he softened his tone.

    "Release my precious motivation. Let''s resolve it through dialogue."

    Name Garm Nord. Age 21. Rank Second Lieutenant.

    It was the appearance of a low-ranking guard whose liver was so swollen that it was sticking out of his stomach.

    Tl/n: Liveres out from the stomach : Someone is brave and maybe even reckless.

 Chapter 390: The Worst Torture (3)

    <h4>Chapter 390: The Worst Torture (3)</h4>

    "Let''s resolve it through dialogue."

    Vikir said. Everyone''s mouths dropped open at those words.

    Even the guards who were building the siege, and even Sakkuth, who was leading the hostage situation, and Kirko, who was being held hostage.

    ....

    Silence. Silence settled over thebour camp where the hostage situation had just taken ce.

    Sakkuth was the first to speak.

    "What the hell. You''re that idiot, right? Are you insane?"

    Vikir was an old warrior who had lived through the Age of Destruction, and he knew better than to hide his mana and presence.

    Even Hugo, patriarch of Baskerville Family, hadn''t noticed.

    Not surprisingly, Sakkuth did not recognise Garm''s identity.

    Vikir shrugged at Garm appearance.

    "I have a clean & sober mind."

    "No, you weren''t dead to me in the first ce...."

    "I almost was, once."

    When a persones out of a near-death experience, there is often a great deal of internal growth.

    Sakkuth narrowed his eyes at Garm atsmophere, who had changed into a different person.

    "You still look the same, but it''s like you''ve be a different person. Your eyes have be a little more useful."

    "If you do, then release my motivation so we can continue working on the construction."

    "Kurururu... Fuck you, kid. I''m d you''ve changed, and you''re trying to make up for it with some words."

    Sakkuth snorted, as if he didn''t need to talk to him.

    But Garm didn''t back down and continued to stand there.

    Behind him, he heard some guards shouting.

    "Hey, lowly guard, where do you think you''re going!"

    "Can you get back now! You''re only increasing the number of hostages!"

    "Tsk, tsk, you''re going to die. You should know the subject."

    As they said. Sakkuth cleared his throat and and pulled phlegm into his mouth.

    ...twees!

    A foul-smelling spit of phlegm flew like a quack to Garm''s face.

    It was an attack that was sure to infect him with gue.

    What?

    Shhh.

    With a simple flick of his head to the side, Garm dodged the attack.

    Even though it was not possible for a low-ranking guard to react quickly.

    "...!?"

    Sakkuth''s expression changed.

    Seizing the opportunity, Garm spoke in a voice barely audible to the other guards.

    "I''ve got something to talk about, don''t you think?"

    "Kurururu, how ridiculous."

    Sakkuthughed in disbelief.

    "What the hell are you trying to talk about, you and me?"

    It worked.

    The words spoken by high-ranking guards are not to be trusted in the first ce.

    That was a fact that the hostage-taker knew best.

    However, in the midst of all these high-ranking guards, a low-level guard who walked out alone with guts.

    What kind of dialogue would he try to have with him?

    Sakkuth was mildly curious about that.

    However, the spontaneous curiosity disappeared as easily as it had arisen.

    "Oh, forget it. There''s no way this body is on the same level as yours, so how can we have a dialogue...."

    "Queen."

    "...!"

    "It''s about the one who sent you here."

    But Sakkuth''s expression quickly hardened.

    The keyword had just scratched his sensitivities to the bone.

    The reason for his rampage was that he had been abandoned by the Queen.

    At this point, a terrifying malice radiated from his entire body.

    It was the kind of killing intent that made you feel suffocated just by being next to it, and your whole body was weighed down.

    "... You''ve got some balls, kid, you''ve suddenly got my attention."

    Sakkuth was starting to show some enthusiasm for the conversation.

    His eagerness was so intense that all the guards who were forming a siege line in the distance took half a step back.

    But Garm remained nonchnt. The old Garm would never have dared to think such a thing.

    Sakkuth held Kirko''s neck tightly and spoke as if chewing it and spitting it out.

    "So, you had a crush on this bitch, right? Okay, let''s have a conversation that catches my interest. If it were fishing, I would break this bitch''s neck, kill her, and eat all her internal organs...."

    "Wait a minute. There''s something I need to do before we can talk."

    Far from being intimidated by Sakkuth''s killing intent, Garm even raised his palm to cut off his words.

    "This conversation contains a lot of important information. It is ssified."

    "What kind of top secret is this from you, who is only a low-ranking guard?"

    "You''ll see when you listen. My ss is not the problem."

    "Kurururu- You were so confident earlier. So what do you have to do before we talk?

    The initiative in the conversation had shifted ever so slightly.

    Garm spoke nonchntly.

    "Give Kirko over here."

    "Are you insane? Youe to the guy who''s taking hostages, giving up the hostage, and talk to him?"

    "I''ll let you keep the hostage."

    "What the fuck are you talking about? Who''s going to be the hostage instead of this bitch?"

    "Me."

    Garm was trying to get Sakkuth to let Kirko go instead of taking himself hostage.

    "Either this or we can''t talk."

    "...Do you even realise what you''re getting yourself into?"

    "I do. I''m a weak, lowly guard. I''m making unreasonable demands on you, who''s holding a hostage."

    "I could take you hostage as well."

    "Then we won''t be able to talk. Too bad. I''m sure you''d love to hear it."

    Sakkuth was bing increasingly confused by Garm''s nonchnt demeanour as he spoke without changing his face.

    "Seriously, what the hell kind of balls do you have?"

    "You see, I''ve never been the gutsy type. I don''t even have the guts to bluff with my life."

    "...."

    "For someone like me to speak so confidently, it makes you wonder what I believe in, doesn''t it?"

    Garm continued.

    And Sakkuth seemed to agree with him on some level.

    But then.

    "Very well. Then show me proof that you are worthy of being my hostage before we exchange."

    "Does being a hostage require proof?"

    "Of course."

    He grabbed the shivering Kirko by the throat and lifted her up.

    "This woman is not begging for her life, even though she is about to be cut to pieces. She has courage, and she has balls."

    "...."

    "But you''re a rotten dog, a piece of shit, and the moment you''re taken hostage by me, you''re going to shit yourself and have a heart attack, and that makes you worthless as a hostage."

    "You''re being unreasonable."

    "Neither are you."

    "Then how do you expect me to prove it?"

    Garm asked, and Sakkuth tilted his head to the side.

    He turned to the nearest guard, a Major, and extended his hand.

    "Hey, you. Give me a cigarette."

    "...?"

    The Major happened to have a cigarette in his mouth.

    He pulled it out of his pocket and tossed it to Sakkuth.

    huug-

    Sakkuth took the cigarette in his mouth and took a long drag.

    At the same time, the red blood from his torn mouth and lips soaked into the cigarette.

    Blood that smelled disgusting and fishy, and a cigarette soaked in it.

    Sakkuth took the cigarette from his mouth and held it out to Garm.

    "Smoke this, and I will recognise your guts."

    At that, all the guards fell silent.

    Even Kirko narrowed her eyes in thought.

    ''...There''s no way he''s putting that in his mouth.''

    The blood was a ss 1 hazardous material.

    A single drop on the ground is a terrible poison that requires a radius of tens of metres to be disinfected with alcohol, fire, and gunpowder.

    Who in their right mind would touch a cigarette that could infect someone with a terrible gue?

    Let alone put it in his mouth.

    Lt. Colonel Bastille, at the head of the siege, gritted his teeth.

    ''For a lowly guard, he was good at taking time, but...Is this where it ends?''

    He had nned to advance his men in the rear, little by little, extremely slowly, and attack Sakkuth from behind.

    But there wasn''t enough time for that.

    Sakkuth hadn''t let his guard down in the slightest.

    ...Then.

    Something happened that shocked everyone.

    Shhh.

    Garm casually epted the cigarette offered to him.

    Without warning, he popped the cigarette into his mouth.

    "Fire."

    And even calmly asking for a fire.

    Sakkuth stood still, somewhat dazed.

    He didn''t think he''d actually light it.

    But Garm shook his head nonchntly.

    "You''ll have to provide fire."

    At that, he turned his head toward the guards with a nk expression on his face.

    And then.

    cheog-

    A guard of the rank of Major hurriedly rummaged through his chest and threw a match into Sakkuth hands.

    Crickss- Swoosh!

    Unable to hide his disbelief, Sakkuth struck the match and lit the cigarette in Garm''s mouth.

    The sight of a giant poisonous snake, imprisoned on the Level 8, bending down to light a cigarette for a junior guard less than half his height was a strange one.

    Huuuw.

    Taking a deep drag on the cigarette, Garm immediately blew out a long stream of smoke.

    "...."

    While everyone watching was with their mouths open with nk expressions.

    "How did you know?"

    Sakkuth asked with a straight face.

    "That I don''t actually have gue poison in my blood."

    It was a shocking revtion.

    All the guards watching realised that they had been deceived for the past two years.

    In fact, there was no gue in Sakkuth body.

    He had mimicked the gue by creating a skin disease that was only apparently serious, using powders of several types of fungi and mushrooms readily avable in the Nouvelle Vague, as well as the antidotes and antiseptics injected and applied by doctors, and he had used that to his advantage.

    Being a native of Leviathan, an extremely poisonous ce, and the founder of the gue, the "Red Death," supported his bluff.

    But it was all just a bluff with a twist.

    The question then bes how Garm, a lowly guard, could have known this beforehand.

    "That guy also had something to believe in!"

    "But how did he know it was a bluff? The doctors couldn''t figure it out."

    "Really? Is there any way to tell?"

    Sakkuth, who holding Kirko by the throat, and all the other guards took note of how Garm had seen through Sakkuth''s bluff.

    ...and.

    Garm opened his mouth and answered everyone''s question in a slow and dry tone.

    "I didn''t know?"

 Chapter 391: The Worst Torture (4)

    <h4>Chapter 391: The Worst Torture (4)</h4>

    ...He didn''t know?

    Everyone in the hostage situation was stunned.

    Even the hostage, Kirko, and the hostage-taker himself, Sakkuth, couldn''t hide their disbelief.

    Level 8 prisoner Sakkuth De Leviathan.

    It''s also a bastard from poisonous Leviathan.

    A vicious criminal who nearly caused a terrible pandemic across the Empire.

    He was a mastermind whose viciousness waspletely uncontroble, even when he wore the BDISSEM cuffs that bound his mana and physical power.

    It''s the gue and poison he spreads through sweat, saliva, blood, and even breath.

    He was assessed to be as a level 9 prisoner,parable to other high risk prisoners such as Megidio, Lord Griffin, Aurora, Snow White, and Cindere.

    So much so that some senior guards have even recently suggested that he should have been ced in Level 9.

    As a result, he is a burden to the guards, an unwanted and at times, a prisoner who is even avoided to the point of fear.

    But to ept a cigarette offered by such a monster and smoke it without question, Is that just a low-level prison guard?

    This is exactly what the guards are surprised about.

    This is something that would never be possible with ordinary guts.

    He has already passed the point of no return. Unless you''re desperate to die.

    Sakkuth also asked in disbelief.

    "...Didn''t you know about it?"

    "No, I didn''t."

    Vikir replied, puffing on his cigarette.

    It was true that he didn''t know, but it certainly wasn''t a gamble with his life.

    After all, Vikir''s body is infused with the poison of Madame Eight Legs, which is capable of consuming all poisons and gues.

    ''Madame devours many poisons, and then concentrates them in her poison pouches.''

    It doesn''t matter what gue you have in your possession.

    No matter how vile, no matter how poisonous, no matter how terrifying, the moment it enters Vikir''s body, it bes mere prey for the Madame.

    Knowing this, Vikir nonchntly puts the cigarette in his mouth.

    But to the unknowing Sakkuth, he could not fathom the intentions of the lowly guard in front of him.

    "I don''t know what I''m looking at."

    Sakkuth shrugged his shoulders in disbelief.

    Then he threw Kirko, who was clutching her throat, into the distance.

    ... thud!

    Kirko spewed blood and sprawled on the floor.

    "Kuughh!"

    But the moment she hit the ground, she immediately got up, straightened up, and drew her sword.

    Any other junior guard would have been stretched out.

    ''... It''s a talent that will serve her well in the future, if she doesn''t die in some nameless battle.''

    Vikir nced at Kirko behind her and realised once more that his judgement had been correct.

    Then.

    "You. You like her that much?"

    A voice broke Vikir''s from his thoughts.

    Vikir turned his head to see what was going on, and Sakkuth was looking down at him in disbelief.

    "A man risks his life for a mere slut. Don''t you know what it means to be held hostage by me?"

    He seemed to understand that Vikir (or, more urately, the character he was ying) was gambling with his life because of his love for Kirko.

    The other guards seem to take a simr view.

    "Did Garm like Kirko?"

    "You couldn''t tell, he was always staring at Kirko whenever he was on duty."

    "But even so, isn''t that a little reckless?"

    "He''s a real man. Risking his life for the girl he''s in love with."

    "What a jerk. He''s an idiot. He''s just an idiot."

    "Look, the look on the high-ranking guards'' faces has already changed. It looks like they will push ahead with the suppression."

    Hearing the guards'' chatter, Sakkuth snorted in response.

    "You''re a sacrificialmb, a pawn, a throwaway card. Do you really think those bastards that surround me care about the life of one of the low-ranking guards?"

    "...."

    "Hmm. Sure. He''s probably smoking a cigarette with my blood on it because he''s too obsessed with that bitch. Crazy bastard."

    Vikir thought for a moment.

    ''I suppose. If it was Garm, maybe it really was.''

    The words in Garm''s diary, the love he had for Kirko, the way he''d written about her, would have been enough for him to give his life for Kirko.

    But not Vikir.

    The reason he came forward was to pursue thorough practical purposes.

    "Now, then, let us begin our conversation, and keep your voice down."

    "...Was there really something to talk about? not just put on a show for your girl?"

    "Shut up and listen."

    Vikir was just about to open his mouth.

    "Garm!"

    Came a voice from behind.

    Vikir and Sakkuth turned around, startled, to see Kirko with her sword half drawn.

    "Get down!"

    At the same time, a shing blow.

    ...sh!

    Surprisingly, the aura became denser and more concentrated, almost to the point of being liquid.

    Was it an enlightenment in a life-or-death situation?

    At the same time, Kirko, whose level had risen to the next level, performed a sword aura.

    "Ugh! You stupid bitch!"

    Sakkuth was stunned.

    Vikir was also quite taken aback by the unexpected turn.

    Fortunately, Kirko''s surprise attack was stopped by his fellow guards.

    The female guards, with whom Kirko had always been friendly, rushed over and grabbed her by the arms and legs.

    "Kirko! Are you crazy!?"

    "There will only be two hostages!"

    "Let''s not make Garm''s sacrifice in vain!"

    The guards, rushing from behind, grabbed the struggling Kirko and dragged her backwards.

    It was quite a contrast to when Garm stepped forward and there was no one to stop him.

    "Hey, let go of me!"

    Kirko looked at Garm, her hands iling.

    His colleague, the man who had stumbled into the limb that should have been her, the man who had risked his life to save hers.

    There was nothing but confusion, agitation, and urgency in Kirko''s gaze as she looked at Garm.

    Then.

    "Don''te."

    Vikir''s words were short.

    "...!"

    Kirko stopped struggling for a moment and stared nkly.

    Vikir drove the wedge in again.

    "It''s only in the way."

    "Ha, but...!"

    "Go away. On the contrary, it helps."

    A hard line. But the cold attitude had the opposite effect.

    Even those who had just condemned Garm''s actions as reckless could only admire his determination.

    What a dazzling disy of sacrifice and determination.

    By now, Kirko had grown sullen and quiet, and tension was beginning to return to the siege of the guards.

    Even the senior guards began to talk.

    "That junior guard, he''s got some nerve. Is he risking his life for his motivation?"

    "The look in his eyes. It''s like I''m seeing the days when I was a junior guard, and even then, it was motivation and love of country."

    "It is a great loss to lose a man like that."

    "They said his name was Garm. He''s been topping the monthly evaluations among the junior guards for few months."

    "Let''s get to work on saving the hostages as best as possible. First, let''s start by secretly approaching the personnel at the rear."

    "We''ve already sent a squadron through the ceiling."

    ... However.

    Vikir himself, who was actually the target of the rescue, didn''t seem to pay any attention to his surroundings.

    Instead, Vikir simply walked over and stood next to Sakkuth.

    He was being held hostage instead, but the atmosphere was somehow different from that of Kirko.

    Either way, they were finally alone.

    Sakkuth asked Vikir quietly.

    "Heh... I''m a little excited to see what kind of conversation we''ll have at this point."

    "I''m d we''re alone, now let''s get to the point."

    Vikir said in a voice so low that only Sakkuth could hear it.

    "The construction of Level 10 must proceed. When you interfere like this, it slows it down."

    "...Is that your point?"

    "Yes, indeed. The construction of Level 10 must proceed as scheduled. Your riot has dyed it by a day."

    "What do you want me to do, you madman? That''s your business, what do I care?"

    Sakkuth could not hide his disbelief and anger.

    But Vikir remained nonchnt.

    Putting a finger to his lips to silence him, Vikir spoke in a smaller, lower voice.

    "If construction is dyed, it will be a loss for you as well. The moment the blue sphere in the centre of the Level 10 construction zone explodes is the moment of timing, and the longer the construction is dyed, the longer you have to wait here."

    "...Wait? For what? What''s timing?"

    "What would it be, you stupid?"

    When Sakkuth asked in a curious tone, Vikir scolded him briefly as if he was pathetic.

    Sakkuth''s eyes turned red for a moment.

    It was bad enough that he was being psychologically manipted by a lowly guard, but now he was being called stupid.

    That''s right, by a ''Stupit Garm''.

    Sakkuth was about to explode when he was told off for talking back.

    Unbelievable words came out of Vikir''s mouth.

    "Just in time for the Queen to save you."

    It was enough to send a chill down Sakkuth''s spine.

 Chapter 392: The Worst Torture (5)

    <h4>Chapter 392: The Worst Torture (5)</h4>

    "...?"

    Sakkuth was just rolling his eyes as if he didn''t understand what was going on.

    Vikir spoke once more.

    "Just in time for the Queen to save you. Did I nail it in your ear?"

    "I, I''m listening. I hear you."

    Sakkuth responded in a rush.

    Vikir clicked his tongue at the sight of it.

    "I''m d you heard. Stupid."

    "You bastard... I''m sure I''m not making a fool of myself when I''m always looking for my Queen...."

    "Shut up, asshole. The Queen is still out there trying to get you out of here, which is why I''m here."

    Vikir scolded Sakkuth and went out at his own pace

    "The timing was the moment when the blue sphere in the deep center of the Level 10 construction area exploded. The original n was to activate it and get you out of here. If it weren''t for your foolishness, it would have proceeded as nned."

    "Well, you want me to believe that? You might have listened to what I usually say and made it up..."

    "Don''t you want to leave? You''ve been uncooperative since the beginning."

    "...It''s not that."

    "Then stop talking. Just close your mouth and open your ears."

    "...."

    Sakkuth shut his mouth with a look of frustration on his face.

    In front of him, Vikir loosened his cor a little.

    "I won''t tell you to blindly believe what I say."

    At the same time, Vikir showed Sakkuth an object he had retrieved from Andromalius''s barrier.

    A word sculpture with an impressive whitish lower part of the de, a ckish middle part, and a reddish upper part, as well as a spiral embossed pattern.

    Shaped like the horns of a Unicorn, it was a fragment of Orwell''s The Sword of Winter.

    It was once owned by Winston, the principal of Colosseo Academy, and is said to be a legendary sword that only those who have attained the highest level of mastery are allowed to wield it.

    Sakkuth''s eyes widened at the sight of it.

    "That, that''s the key to Nouvelle Vague''s main gate...! No way!"

    Vikir nodded silently.

    The ''Queen'' who had sent Sakkuth here.

    And the object she had been searching for, ''Orwell''.

    Imprisoned deep within the Nouvelle Vague by Orca and Winston during the 47 Man Riot, a long time ago.

    Vikir opened his mouth,bining keywords in his head.

    "Miss Uroboros sent me here. To help you."

    "Oh oh...Ooohhh! Queen! You haven''t abandoned me! You remembered me...!"

    "Shut up, fool, the guards will hear you."

    Vikir pushed his hat down deeply and lifted the brim.

    Then, on his bare face, Vikir''s face was visible.

    "Huh!"

    After swallowing the empty air, Vikir continued speaking.

    "I told you, I thought you were pretty good."

    When Vikir said that, Sakkuth''s jaw dropped open.

    It reminded him of a conversation they had before.

    ''You''re going to break out of Nouvelle Vague? What ''He'' could not do in the end is escape from prison. What kind of guy are you....''

    ''Why do you think it''s impossible to jailbreak?''

    ''...what?''

    ''Is that all you can think about? You think you''ve been abandoned, but that''s not true. That''s because I think well of you.''

    ''...?''

    ''I''ve been watching you for the past two years. You might have no strength andcks tenacity, but I like your brashness and action. Your loyalty is strong.''

    ''What the hell are you talking about?''

    ''You''ll find out soon enough. After I break out of this ce.''

    After finishing his reminiscence, Sakkuth opened his mouth in disbelief.

    "So, you''ve been here since the beginning...?"

    "That''s right. The Queen sent me to test you. And you were loyal enough not to reveal any information about her, which is why I gave you a passing grade."

    It was a lie, of course.

    It was only because of Decarabia''s testimony that Vikir discovered the connection between Sakkuth and Sady.

    [I wondered where I''d smelled that before, but now I know. His blood smells like Sady''s. They must be rted somehow].

    Vikir was convinced after taking a drag from a cigarette stained with Sakkuth blood.

    These were enough clues to guess who the Queen was and who had sent her minions down here to Nouvelle Vague to rescue ''him''.

    Vikir snarled.

    "I''m trying to get you out of here at the right time, and you pull a stupid stunt like this. What''s more, you sell me to the guards?"

    "Pah, I don''t mean sell you, that''s ridiculous!"

    "I already know that you reported me to Souare. If you lie to me again, I will make you rot here forever."

    "Huh! My apologies, well. I, I waspletely unaware of Night Hound-sama''s identity, so please stop...."

    Sakkuth thought back to his past before he was trapped in this ce.

    Come to think of it, his Queen had talked about wanting to meet Night Hound quite often.

    "At the time, I thought it was just a way of saying she was looking for a minion or partner, but... I, I was short-sighted."

    Sakkuth waspletely overwhelmed by the look in Vikir''s eyes.

    At the same time, his eyes sparkled with infinite trust and relief.

    "So I''m going to live, then? I''m going to get out of here?"

    "There''s still a chance."

    "Uh, what should I do?"

    "I told you. We need to activate Level 10''s blue orb, get ''him'', and get out."

    "Teach me!"

    "Then from now on, you will do exactly as I say. Considering how you almost screwed up my n, I''d like to take you out of the Great Escape, but...."

    He flinched as Vikir showed his difort.

    Then Vikir noticed the parade of guards sneaking up behind Sakkuth.

    "If you can handle what happens between now and then, I''ll let it slide. Until the next ''event'', you will live like a mouse and be a model prisoner. Is that clear?"

    "Yes, of course. I''ll cover for you with my life."

    "I''ll try to trust you just this once more, and if you make another fuss, you''ll get what you deserve."

    "Yes!"

    "Very well, then you will be arrested by the guards approaching from the rear. Just make sure you''re acting reasonably aggressive."

    "Yes! But if I get caught, I''ll be taken to solitary confinement, and possibly executed...."

    "You can take solitary confinement, I can''t protect you from that. But don''t worry, if you are sentenced to death, I''ll speed up your escape."

    After hearing Vikir''s words, Sakkuth nodded with bright eyes.

    At that very moment.

    "Now! Pounce!"

    Bastille''smanding voice came from behind.

    At the same time, a group of guards, including Lt. Colonel Bastille, rushed toward Sakkuth''s back.

    "Whoa! What the hell, when did ite to this, I never thought it would happen, ouch!"

    Sakkuth copsed to the ground, making a fuss that made even Vikir, who was watching, fret.

    Luckily, the atmosphere was so tense that no one was suspicious.

    ...peog! ...peoeog! ttudug! udeudeug! ...cheolkeong! ...cheolkeodeog!

    Sakkuth''s limbs were restrained with heavy bindings.

    At that time, the suppressed Sakkuth and Vikir''s eyes met.

    Frown.

    Sakkuth winked at Vikir and grinned.

    Vikir nodded once, his expression impassive.

    Before he knew it, his face had returned to Garm''s.

    Soon, the junior guards were swarming around Garm.

    "Garm, are you okay?"

    "Wow, that was a cool smoke, you!"

    "What? Why is your face so bloody again? When did you get hit?"

    By now, Vikir had recreated the burn marks on his face with the hot dirt he had picked up from the ground.

    The slightly changed positions of the scars were not noticeable due to the dust, sulfur powder, and blood stains.

    The junior guards crowded around Garm and chattered for a while longer.

    Then.

    "...!"

    The junior guards who had been chattering around Vikir opened a path to the side in unison.

    Vikir turned his head to see what was going on, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure.

    It was Kirko.

    "...I."

    Kirko approached with slow steps and stood in front of Vikir.

    In a low voice, Kirko asked

    "Are you okay?"

    "...."

    "Your face... looks like you''re hurt a lot...."

    She hesitated, unable to take her eyes off Vikir''s face.

    "It''s okay. It''ll heal if I leave it alone."

    It was true. With Basilisk''s power, a burn like this would take less than a second to regenerate.

    But Kirko, unaware of that fact, hadn''t left Vikir''s side.

    "Wait."

    "...?"

    Before Vikir had a chance to respond, Kirko pulled something out of her front pocket.

    It was an ointment for burns.

    "...That must have hurt."

    Kirko let the word slip out unconsciously.

    She kept her mouth shut from then on and began to apply the burn ointment to Vikir''s face.

    The junior guards around her were stunned. This was quite unexpected given her cold, detached image.

    Meanwhile, Vikir tried to tell her that he didn''t need it, but eventually left it alone.

    Because there was something more important than that right now.

    When Vikir turned to look, he saw that Sakkuth had been noisily grabbed by the senior guards and dragged off into the distance.

    "Listen to me, you''re in solitary confinement for three months!"

    "It won''t end with solitary confinement, after that I''ll make you work like a madman!"

    "And after that, I''ll execute you! Do you understand?"

    "I swear by my name! I will definitely put you on the execution tform!"

    All of the senior guards were furious that they have been fooled by Sakkuth''s bluff all this time.

    Things must be done right. It was a natural result.

    '' ...I won''tst long.''

    Vikir clicked his tongue.

    Ever since Vikir learnt that he was responsible for the Red Death among the natives of Jungle long ago, he had no intention of going easy on him.

    If he survived the torture and solitary confinement, it wouldn''t matter, because he''d already thought of the next step.

    He could hear Decarabia chuckling in his chest.

    [kkilkkilkkil- lulling a ruined prisoner into a false hope of escape. Your lying is top notch. Walking step by step to certain death without knowing he is being deceived, isn''t that the cruelest form of torture, I don''t know who is the demon and who is the demon hunter].

    "Be quiet."

    Vikir pounded his fist against his chest in frustration.

    ''Whatever. Is this the end of the situation?''

    A riot of Level 8 prisoners.

    The disturbance, which could have been catastrophic in the wrong hands, had been put down surprisingly quickly thanks to the efforts of a junior guard.

    And then.

    "Hey. Guard."

    Behind him, Lt. Colonel Bastille, the chief officer in charge of the suppression, called out to Vikir.

    "Well done. You did really well. I can''t believe I have such a good man under me. How did I not recognize this talent before now?"

    Vikir knew what wasing next as Lt. Colonel Bastille patted him on the shoulder and showered him with praise.

    It was time for a reward based on merit.

 Chapter 393: The Worst Torture (6)

    <h4>Chapter 393: The Worst Torture (6)</h4>

    Four months had passed since then.

    "Today is a happy day! I am able to wee so many new and capable subordinates!"

    As Lt. Colonel Bastille wept tears of joy, a small ceremony was taking ce in Nouvelle Vague.

    It was called a promotion.

    Although it was not a formal promotion ceremony held once a year, it had everything needed for a simple promotion ceremony.

    As everyone apuded, the newest candidates for the promotion walked up to the podium.

    Lieutenant Colonel Bastille, the officer in charge of the promotion ceremony, tearfully embraced each and every one of them.

    But it was Garm, or rather, Vikir, who he hugged the hardest and longest.

    "Congrattions, Captain Garm Nord!"

    Originally a Lieutenant, Garm Nord had been promoted two ranks to Captain.

    It was an unconventional promotion, almost unheard of among lower ranking guards.

    But the even more surprising was the fact that no one seemed to think it was unreasonable that Garm had been promoted from lieutenant to captain in one swoop.

    "Second Lieutenant Garm always exceeded his work quota anyway, so he deserved to be promoted to Captain on that basis alone."

    "Add to that the fact that he subdued a Level 8 prisoner''s rampage four months ago, and he''s proven to be capable. I think that''s enough for a promotion to Captain."

    "Anyway, promotion to two ranks would have been natural over time... Lieutenant Colonel Bastille is showing off at this moment."

    "I don''t know. As a rule, a promotion of two ranks requires a full investigation of one''s background and a full investigation of one''s past life, which not only takes months but is incredibly detail-oriented. Lieutenant Colonel Bastille thinks so highly of this young man that he spared that process."

    Everyone weed the new mid-level guard, Captain Garm Nord.

    Many of them had been disciplined or demoted for their rowdy behavior.

    Lieutenant Colonel Bastille personally pinned the three diamonds of Captain''s rank on Vikir''s breastte and said.

    "Since your exploits, the prisoner has been in solitary confinement for three months, and since his release he has been very faithful in hisbor."

    "That''s good. I think it''s a testament to everyone''s bravery."

    "Humbling. You were the bravest of them all. But...."

    Lt. Colonel Bastille spoke in a low voice.

    "What in the world did you do to make that rascal go down like that, by your own words?"

    "I didn''t say anything, I just used logic to convince him that there''s no good in going on a rampage."

    "Hmmm, is that so, hahaha �C okay, well, that''s not exactly what I''m here to talk about, but I''ll have a chance to hear moreter."

    Lt. Colonel Bastille, a typically likable man, smirked, as if an unconventional answer wasn''t so bad after all.

    With that, Vikir descended from the stage, receiving the enhanced weapons and letters of appointment only given to those with the rank of Captain or higher.

    ...Good!

    The weapon Garm chose was a three-tiered baton.

    ''It feels good in my hand.''

    It was the weapon that the real Garm had used in his life, but it was also a good fit for Vikir.

    Having spent his entire life as an assassin or swordsman, Vikir rarely had to use a weapon like the three-tiered baton, which was designed to beat and subdue, not kill.

    ''But the more I use it, the more I appreciate it."

    The cold feel of it against his palm, the crackle of the handle, the way the tip extended with two cheerful snaps with each swing.

    In many ways, it was a weapon he''de to love. It was like finding a second passion.

    [Human. Is that what you''ve opened your eyes to?]

    "Hmm. You mean nonlethal rather than lethal, then I suppose that''s possible."

    [No. Not that one.]

    "?"

    Decarabia blurted out another unintelligible word.

    Vikir shut him up and steps down from the stage.

    He had gotten the Captain''s rank he wanted, and that was enough for him.

    * * *

    Dakkak-

    Vikir closed the door on the visit.

    The new quarters he''d been assigned upon his promotion to captain were far morefortable than his old ones.

    Goodbye stone caves, where he''d been crammed in like a swarm of ants in cramped, filthy quarters.

    The interior of the fifteen square stone room was neatly organized.

    It still had the same salty dankness, but with a window to the outside and a separate shower, it wasn''t as bad as the lower-level guards'' rooms.

    Vikir went to the window and looked out.

    Behind the thinyer of bubbles created by the mysterious mucus substance Flubber, the dark depths of the ocean stretched out before him.

    But he could see quite well, thanks to the coral reefs and colonies of glow-in-the-dark jellyfish below.

    In the distance, a giant shadowy figure swam by.

    "...."

    Vikir stood by the window and watched the nameless deep-sea fish swimming for what seemed like forever.

    Then.

    There was a tap.

    There was a knock on the door.

    "Captain. May Ie in?"

    A cold, firm voice.

    Vikir didn''t say anything, and the door opened.

    A uniformed woman stood on the threshold. It was First Lieutenant Kirko.

    Ever since Vikir had earned the rank of Captain, she had been his adjutant.

    Kirko herself said it was a natural progression, but Lieutenant Colonel Bastille told a different story.

    ''For some reason, Lieutenant Kirko, who has always refused to be someone''s adjutant, did not specifically refuse the executive order to be your adjutant. Hahaha-''

    Lt. Colonel Bastille trailed off with an inexplicable nce.

    Vikir turned his head, tearing his gaze away from the scenery outside the window.

    "What''s going on?"

    It was natural, as if the rtionship had always been one of superior and subordinate.

    But Kirko, too, had taken the change for granted.

    "Prisoner Sakkuth De Leviathan, on Level 8, has had another seizure."

    "Is this the first one since his solitary confinement?"

    "Yes."

    Vikir nodded at Kirko''s report.

    With that, Vikir grabbed his three-tiered baton and left the room.

    Then.

    "...ah."

    Vikir turned around as if he had forgotten something.

    "?"

    Kirko scratched her head.

    As he turned, Vikir carried a thick Lun bible out of the room.

    Looking at it, Kirko made a strange face and opened his mouth.

    "Captain."

    "Why."

    "Are you religious?"

    "To a certain extent."

    "I''ve never been to the surface, so I don''t know what religion is like on the surface, but I''ve heard... that it is quite corrupted. They take money and forgive sins."

    "I don''t know what you mean."

    "I mean, I wanted to ask you if the book would help calm the prisoner down."

    Vikir smiled dryly at Kirko''s question.

    "It might."

    The answer was short.

    With that, Vikir descended the steep spiral staircase to Level 8.

    He could feel the stone walls and floor creaking as he entered the prison.

    "I can''t believe I''m being executed! That''s not true, I''ve been doing hardbor since my solitary confinement, and that blue blob in the Level 10 construction zone is swelling like crazy, and it''s not all the result of my pickaxe! Aaaaaaah!"

    Sakkuth''s voice echoed throughout the corridor.

    It seemed to be a protest against the death sentence.

    Lieutenant Colonel Bastille was, to put it in a good way, a good man, but in a bad way, he was a safety-minded person.

    He was someone who wanted as few variables as possible in his uing promotion.

    To him, noise is a nuisance.

    A variable, dangerous man who could strike again at any moment.

    ''...Well, he deserves a quiet, unofficial execution.''

    Vikir clicked his tongue inwardly.

    It''s one thing to hasten his own demise.

    Meanwhile, Sakkuth continued his rampage.

    He was scattering poison, a mixture of water mold, sulfur, and several types of soil.

    "I finally met ''him'' in solitary confinement! How long do you think I''m going to be locked in here! I''m getting out of here soon, and what''s with the execution, cancel it now, you bastards, I''ve done my duties faithfully, what''s wrong with that, Aghhhhh!"

    Sakkuth ran wild, foaming at the mouth.

    Just then.

    "...!"

    The rampage stopped and it calmed down.

    Even the guards, who had been pulling at BDISSEM''s chain, turned their heads to stare in surprise.

    Vikir stood there.

    "Seniors. May I have your attention for a moment?"

    At Vikir''s polite request, the guards all nodded and stepped back.

    But Kirko was still standing close to Vikir''s side.

    Vikir turned to Kirko.

    "You stay back, too."

    "I can''t."

    "Why not?"

    "I am Captain Garm''s adjutant. I am obligated to stand by your side at all times."

    Kirko''s demeanor showed determination and stubbornness as she answered like a machine without changing her expression.

    Vikir shook his head once.

    The next thing he knew, he was standing in front of the cage.

    "You will be executed in a week."

    "...."

    "This is the result of your rampage, so take it sweetly."

    To Vikir''s cold voice, Sakkuth could only stare, unable to answer.

    The guards stood at full alert behind him, not knowing when he might explode again.

    Then.

    Vikir passed something through the bars.

    It was a Lun bible.

    "Read it before your execution, and repent."

    "...."

    Sakkuth took the Bible with trembling hands.

    With bloodshot eyes fixed on the book, he began to flip through the pages.

    After a moment.

    "...!"

    Sakkuth''s pupils dted.

    On the middle page of the Bible, a small print appeared.

    ''The time is short. D-7''

    A secretly hidden push.

    Upon seeing it, Sakkuth''s demeanor softened and he began to sob.

    "I acknowledge my sin. I will ept everything sincerely."

    His words came as a shock to all the guards present.

    "My God, that maniac can''t be that soft after all this time...."

    "I can''t believe my eyes."

    "Garm, what the hell did you do?"

    The guards, who were destined to be forced to take the man''s whims for the next week, breathed a sigh of relief as if they''d been doing it for a decade.

    They swarmed around Vikir, demanding to know what he had done.

    Vikir replied in a dry voice.

    "Nothing much, I just gave him hope."

    Of course, that hope is false.

    A weekter, he would be executed. There would be no appeal.

    ''...The torture of hope is the worst kind of torture.''

    Vikir knew this all too well, as a man who had lived through an Age of Destruction.

    There was no salvation at the hands of others.

    You can only save yourself.

    Vikir turned his back on the now subdued Sakkuth.

    nning a ''real'' escape, not the false one he''d promised Sakkuth.

    ''... A jailbreak in Nouvelle Vague is not just a jailbreak.''

    Vikir was right.

    ''When Night Hound is released from Nouvelle Vague, many things will change in the world.''

    It is an ''entrance sign'' to a world where demons have begun to appear.

    It will be humanity''s deration of war, marking the beginning of a new age of destruction.

 Chapter 394: Dead Man Walking (1)

    <h4>Chapter 394: Dead Man Walking (1)</h4>

    A week went by quickly.

    ...Boom!

    Vikir burned all of Garm''s journals.

    He''d already learned all the information he needed, and he could copy the handwriting perfectly.

    ''The font forgery I learned from Chihuahua hase in handy again.''

    Now he wouldn''t hesitate to use his handwriting wherever it was needed.

    It was a relief.

    -I want to get out of here, with her.-

    Vikir stared at the burning pages of the diary.

    Garm''s wish to leave this ce would never be fulfilled.

    It will only turn to ck, white ash and sinks to the bottom of the dark deep sea

    "...."

    Vikir watched the dozens of notebooks turn to ash from the beginning to the end

    It was a small and humble end to a young man''s life''s work.

    ''Still, I got a lot of information out of it. Thank you.''

    Vikir held a moment of silence for Garm. Until the smoke from the diary cleared.

    Then.

    A knock.

    There was a knock at the door.

    He opened the door to find Kirko standing there, her face expressionless.

    "There is three hours before the execution."

    "...Why are you here so early?"

    "I just wanted to let you know in advance."

    "...I see."

    Kirko stood motionless in the doorway, as if waiting for Vikir to finish getting ready ande out.

    Vikir got dressed, feeling a little overwhelmed by the stare he couldn''t quite figure out what was going through Kirko mind.

    Then.

    "Captain."

    Kirko spoke.

    When Vikir turned his head, she took a deep breath and spoke.

    "Before you go to the execution, may I have a word with you?"

    It was a rather out-of-the-blue request.

    There was no reason to refuse, so Vikir nodded, indicating her intention to do so.

    Then Kirko spoke in a serious tone.

    "As you know, Captain, I was born in Nouvelle Vague."

    "...."

    "Once upon a time, there was an incident where a prisoner raped a guard, and I am the result."

    Vikir stopped buttoning his cor at Kirko''s blunt words.

    ''I warn you, this may be a summary execution. Because of an ''unsavory incident'' between a guard and a prisoner 19 years ago, the actor is strictly controlled and punished.''

    Vikir still remembered Colonel DOrdume''s words when Vikir had refused tobor for some unknown reason.

    Kirko continued in a calm tone.

    "Afterwards, my biological father and mother were both referred to the disciplinarymittee and disappeared. I guess he probably escaped from prison... anyway, that''s why I don''t know who my parents are, and of course I''ve never been to the surface."

    "Why are you telling me that story now?

    Vikir asked.

    Kirko hesitated for a moment, then spoke up.

    "That''s because I hated you, Captain, because of my personal past, which I mentioned earlier."

    Kirko did not like Garm. No, she hated him.

    It had nothing to do with the fact that Garm was dull and cowardly, too good to be true, and full of mistakes at every turn.

    A fellow his own age, with parents to miss and an earthly home.

    But Garm had two things Kirko did not.

    "You have a home on earth, and you have parents. When we first met, you said you came all the way here because you wanted to help your parents make a living. You also said you missed the mountains and fields, the streams andkes of your homnd."

    "...."

    "Maybe I was envious of that, no, inferiorityplex, that''s right, so whenever the Captain made a mistake, I filled myck of self-esteem by looking at it as pathetic and despising it."

    Garm probably didn''t realize that Kirko had such thoughts until the very end.

    ''No. Even if I had known, it wouldn''t have changed anything.''

    Vikir stared at Kirko.

    It was as if he wanted to say something.

    Kirko took a deep breath before speaking.

    "I wanted to be honest about this and apologize, because I don''t think I should have this kind of petty, old feelings toward my future superior."

    "Is that why you volunteered to be my adjutant?"

    "...I didn''t say it myself."

    "I see."

    Vikir nodded.

    Then.

    Kirko opened her mouth, sounding even more puzzled than before.

    "Captain, you have nothing to say to me?"

    "...?"

    Vikir looked up, and Kirko gave a rare stutter.

    "You know, back when you saved me from that prisoner rampage on level eight."

    "What?"

    "I''m not without ears to hear!"

    "...?"

    Vikir frowned.

    As if he didn''t understand.

    Then Kirko started to sweat a little.

    Her earlobes were already red to the limit.

    "Ah, all the seniors around me are saying something."

    "Saying what."

    "About that prisoner rampage on Level 8. About why the Captain was willing to take a hostage for me...!"

    Vikir realized what Kirko was trying to say.

    ''You. Do you really like her that much?''

    ''A man risking his life for a bitch. Don''t you know what it means to be held hostage by me?''

    ''Hmm. what. You''re so obsessed that you don''t care about any of that, you smoked a cigarette with my blood on it. You''re crazy.''

    ''Did Garm like Kirko?''

    ''You didn''t know? He was always staring at Kirko whenever he came to work.''

    ''But don''t you think that''s a little reckless?''

    ''He''s a real man. Risking his life for the girl he loves.''

    The sarcastic remarks shed through his mind.

    So do the gossipyments of the other guards,

    "I-I would like to make it clear that my bing your adjutant is merely the result of a natural chain ofmand, nothing more. There''s supposed to be a separation between public and private affairs, but if a superior and a subordinate have such a bad rtionship, what can I say, there could be a setback in public affairs... also... eh?"

    But Kirko couldn''t finish her sentence.

    Vikir, now fully dressed in uniform, had left the room.

    * * *

    ttog- ttog-

    An underground passage that looks like the throat of a giant monster.

    Salty water droplets fell from the corrugated ceiling.

    jeobeog- jeobeog- jeobeog-

    The sound of Vikir''s military footsteps is heavy.

    Dada-dada-dada.

    The footsteps of Vikir''spanions behind him are also loud.

    "Why would you leave so quickly when your adjutant is talking to you?"

    It was Kirko.

    At Kirko''s grumbling, Vikir raised his index finger to her lips.

    "Shhh. There''s a lot of people now."

    "...."

    Vikir and Kirko hade down to Level 5 to attend the execution.

    There were a number of guards and prisoners gathered there, and in the center stood the protagonist of the day, Sakkuth, bounded and shackled.

    Lt. Colonel Bastille, who was on the podium, spoke to him.

    "This is not a formal execution. You will forever be recorded as alive in the books."

    In a gravelly voice, he shouted at Sakkuth and many other prisoners.

    But Sakkuth didn''t react.

    His eyes flicked from one guard to the next with a slight, uneasy tremor.

    Then.

    "...!"

    Sakkuth''s face visibly brightened as he recognized Vikir''s form among the group of guards.

    Then, the guards who were to conduct the execution stepped forward.

    The main one was Vikir.

    Vikir dragged Sakkuth to the cliff ahead.

    There was a jutting rock at the edge of the cliff, and Sakkuth stood precariously on the edge.

    "Stay steady."

    Vikir, standing behind him, spoke in a low voice.

    "The moment you fall off the cliff, a rescue operation will beunched. Do you understand?"

    "I understand."

    Sakkuth replied with a calm face.

    Being thrown off this distant cliff is the ''unofficial execution ceremony'' of the Nouvelle Vague.

    hudeulhudeu...

    Vikir noticed that Sakkuth''s legs were trembling slightly.

    "Pathetic. Are you scared?"

    "Well, how could I be?"

    "Don''t worry. See those guards and prisoners over there? They''re all included."

    Vikir gestured with his chin to the left and right of the cliff.

    Sakkuth looked in the direction he pointed.

    Sure enough, there are guards and prisoners whose postures are subtly stiffened or loosened.

    They looked suspicious.

    "Those are the insiders who will help you. They''lle running as soon as I give the word."

    "Well, well. You''re amazing. When did you get so many people on your side?"

    "...."

    Vikir didn''t bother to answer.

    In truth, the guards he was referring to were just ordinary guards and prisoners.

    They were merely taking advantage of the psychology that a cornered man sees what he wants to see.

    Sakkuth stood at the edge of the Hundred Foot Cliffs with unfounded hopes.

    "Kurururu, I''m done with life. Do as you please, bastards!"

    Sakkuth bellowed at the guards around him, then turned his head and red at Vikir.

    And with that, he leaped off the cliff.

    Whirring.

    A prisoner falling into a deep, deep abyss, into a pitch ck space.

    But.

    The expression on the guards'' faces hadn''t yet resolved.

    The execution was not over when he jumped off the cliff.

    ...And now.

    Purrrrrrr.

    The ''real'' execution had begun.

    "Huh?"

    He didn''t even realize he was being executed.

    And for Vikir, it was the first time he''d actually seen it.

    Purrrrrrrr!

    A long line was being drawn in the darkness.

    It opened its huge, vast gaping mouth as if it were alive, revealing a wealth of unpleasant-looking, misshapen teeth protruding from within.

    Its mouth gaped open in a long line, seemingly endlessly.

    A huge face was looking up, smiling widely with its teeth bared.

    "Uh, what the hell! What the hell!"

    Sakkuth''s face turned pale.

    At the same time, Vikir swallowed hard.

    Of the five wardens representing Nouvelle Vague, he is the one whose identity is the most shrouded in mystery.

    ''...I heard he wasn''t human, but I never thought he''d look like that.''

    It was the appearance of Brigadier General Flubber.

 Chapter 395: Dead Man Walking (2)

    <h4>Chapter 395: Dead Man Walking (2)</h4>

    Vikir remembered what Garm had said when he first entered Nouvelle Vague.

    ''What the hell, what''s the big deal, this is just a dog''s death, a de facto execution!''

    ''No, it''s not. There''s a Nouvelle Vague execution, and it''s not even close to this.''

    Garm was responding to a prisoner who was freaking out at the news.

    Vikir suddenly realized why Garm had said that.

    jjeoeoeoeoeog-

    A mouth appeared in the center of the abyss.

    Its enormous jaws twisted the empty space, revealing other spaces nested within it.

    Squares, triangles, circles... jagged misshapen features sprouted without order or bnce.

    Two bulging eyeballs, cloudy as the eyes of a drowning man, were obviously reacting to the ''prey'' falling from above.

    Vikir thought.

    ''The most mysterious of the five wardens was Brigadier General Flubber.''

    His identity, he was told, was supposed to be ''a Beastman member of the Snail family''.

    However, that was just a ssification, and nothing was known about which group, order, or ss this strange creature belonged to.

    ''I don''t even know why it''s called a Beastman creature in the first ce. It doesn''t look human at all.''

    Age: unknown. Gender: unknown. Race: unknown. Where it came from: unknown, where it was going: unknown.

    Even the rank of Brigadier General was merely a social title that humans have given to this creature.

    An ancient, prehistoric creature that was already there when humans first discovered Nouvelle Vague.

    No one knew what it was or how it came to live here.

    No matter how hard he searched the oldest written records of Nouvelle Vague, all they could find was that Brigadier General Flubber had been there since the beginning.

    ''...Whatever. He''s the main force responsible for Nouvelle Vague''s security, along with BDISSEM.''

    Vikir thought as he looked at the giant, grotesque creature with its mouth open at the bottom of the abyss.

    The BDISSEM, binding the mana and power of the prisoners.

    Flubber, who coats the entire castle in slime to keep it from being flooded.

    These are the two key substances that keep Nouvelle Vague alive.

    Woooooooo...

    It was then that Brigadier General Flubber began to make a strange noise.

    A long, thick tongue protruded from a crack in the abyss.

    A sticky slime called Flubber oozed from the base of the tongue.

    That was the source of the foamy windows that covered the doors and windows of the Nouvelle Vague.

    And then it dripped down into its gaping maw.

    "Aaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

    The sound was obvious.

    Nouvelle Vague''s first round of inductions, where the fallen from the de Bridge had gone.

    The fate of those who, on paper, were still alive.

    Sakkuth fell into the abyss.

    ...with a plop!

    The word ''plunged'' could not have been more appropriate.

    Brigadier General Flubber''s body wasposed of dark matter mixed with dark green.

    It was not hot, but sticky and heavy, as if it had been boiled and then melted.

    This sticky conglomerate of mucus had spread endlessly, and there was no hasty limit to its bottom.

    It''s like the phlegm in the throat of a giant, the kind of phlegm that appears in ancient legends of World Trees and Giants.

    And as he plunged into the abyss of this horrible slime, this dark swamp, he let out a terrifying scream.

    "kkiyaaaaaaaaaaghhh!!"

    It was a creepy scream that instantly filled the empty hollow with terror.

    It was enough to make even the mid-level guards of Nouvelle Vague, who had seen it all before, cover their ears and bite their lips.

    But.

    "...."

    Only one person.

    Vikir was standing motionless, still towering over the edge of the cliff.

    Staring down with an air of nonchnce.

    Suddenly.

    As Sakkuth entire body melted away, he looked up.

    His eyes locked with Vikir''s, who stood above the abyss, peering down from the cliff edge.

    "...you! ...you!"

    He realized he had been tricked.

    Everything had been a lie.

    There had been no rescue, no escape.

    There was no such thing as a messenger in the depths of the sea.

    It was wrong to look for such a thing 10,000 meters below the surface of the ocean, in the depths of this hopeless sea.

    This is Nouvelle Vague. No dreams, no hope, no future, no nothing.

    "Geuuk! Beeroooooghh!"

    Before he knew it, Sakkuth, his mouth was filled with Flubber mouth, cursed the object in front of him with all his heart.

    A terrifying malice swirled through him, energizing his entire body with a new kind of vitality that even he didn''t recognize.

    ...But it was toote.

    Malice, murder, and revenge all have meaning only in the living.

    Already, the taste in Brigadier General Flubber''s mouth was nothing more than a squirming mass of meat, just a little fresher than usual.

    teoeob-

    The gaping folds sucked in more and more of Sakkuth''s huge body.

    Sakkuth De Leviathan, dragged beneath a pitch-ck, bottomless abyss.

    Thest time he saw the light of this world, there before him was Vikir''s expressionless face.

    ...Suddenly, his lips moved.

    And with the superhuman observation and concentration of a man on the verge of death, Sakkuth could read the faint trace of Vikir''s lips.

    ''Know your subject, whether you''re the predator or the prey.''

    Those were the words he''d heard on their first meeting.

    "...! ...! ...! ...! ...!"

    Sakkuth tried to scream at the top of his lungs.

    With all his might, and with a sincerity and earnestness that even he had never shown in his life.

    It might have been a man''s anger or malice, or a curse of unspeakable cruelty and viciousness, or an atonement or penance so sincere and pure that it touched the hearts of all who saw it.

    ...But it never reached the world.

    Kurururung!

    He disappeared beneath the ck swamp with a boat horn sound simr to theughter he usually made.

    It is unknown if he was granted the "rest in peace" so often heard from the dead.

    But what is certain is that he will never escape the abyss again.

    ...for all eternity.

    * * *

    There was an eerie silence among the guards.

    Even the bold, fearless Kirko was breaking out in a cold sweat.

    "...Brigadier General Flubber''s execution is always dreadful."

    Vikir, who had just returned from pushing Sakkuth off the cliff, nodded quietly to answer her.

    ''Brigadier General Flubber. He doesn''t appear to be intelligent, but I don''t know what variables that will be in the event of an escape.''

    A monstrous creature who stretches its body throughout Nouvelle Vague''s castle, responsible for its upkeep and maintenance.

    Unofficially, it is considered the most powerful creature in Nouvelle Vague.

    In fact, the most mysterious of the Five Wardens, there was one who used his time to meet this monster whose identity was the most unknown.

    Vikir began to worry about how much he should be wary of this monster and how much he should ignore it.

    For the first time since entering Nouvelle Vague, he had encountered an incalcble variable.

    ...then.

    "Captain Garm."

    A voice called to Vikir.

    Turning his head, he saw Lt. Colonel Bastille standing there, a stern expression on his face.

    Behind him were his adjutants in full uniform.

    "You asked for me, Lt. Colonel."

    Vikir replied with a salute, and Bastille''s lips curled into a smile.

    "okay. Finally, one less troublesome prisoner."

    Lieutenant Colonel Bastille, who was busy with promotions and advancement, and line work for this, was always on the lookout for prisoner riots.

    This is because it has a devastating adverse effect on performance.

    So Sakkuth, the most frequent rioter and the most emotionally unstable, has been his biggest thorn in the sidetely.

    "...Honestly, executing a prisoner is not an easy task. Once the decision to execute has been made, the prisoner may continue to resist, riot, escape, or n a terrorist attack, and the trauma to the guards who carry out the execution cannot be ignored."

    "I''m d this one ended safely."

    "It is. A Level 8 prisoner quietly epted his execution without incident, and there doesn''t seem to be any after-effects for the guards who executed him. ... Is that right?"

    "Yes, Sir."

    At Vikir''s answer, Lt. Colonel Bastille smiled even more broadly.

    "The charisma and resourcefulness to keep a Level 8 prisoner quiet until the very moment of execution, and the guts and boldness to single-handedly carry out a gruesome execution ceremony and not falter an inch."

    "...."

    "It''s no exaggeration to say that all of this is to your credit. The more I look at you, the more I covet you, you remind me of my own youth."

    Vikir couldn''t bear to listen, so he gave him the lip service he didn''t usually give to end things quickly.

    "I will follow you for the rest of my life, Lt. Colonel."

    The words made the smile on Lt. Colonel Bastille''s face grow even brighter.

    Lt. Colonel Bastille, a man whose specialty was forming lines and building factions, seemed to recognize Vikir as one of his own.

    "Good. I''m not like those ipetent rulers and generals who have left a stain on history. Loyal and capable subordinates are rewarded as they deserve."

    Vikir looked puzzled.

    Then Lt. Colonel Bastille held out a ck box to Vikir.

    "I hope you like what you see."

    "It would be a great honor for me to receive anything from you, Lt. Colonel."

    "Hahaha, you can open it right here."

    Lt. Colonel Bastille grinned, as if the gift was an opportunity to boast to the world of his weights, measures, and distribution.

    Now, in the center of the room, under the watchful eyes of all the guards, including Kirko next to him.

    Dakkak-

    Vikir opened the box.

    And then.

    "...!"

    What was revealed inside was enough to make everyone''s eyes widen.

 Chapter 396: Dead Man Walking (3)

    <h4>Chapter 396: Dead Man Walking (3)</h4>

    The box opened, and a pir of silver light rose from within.

    It was a badge of rank, a badge with a silver Rose of Sharon embroidered on it.

    It was the symbol for the rank of Major.

    "...This?"

    Vikir looked up, and Lt. Colonel Bastille opened his mouth with a friendly smile.

    "I see your construction progress has been over 100% every time, andst month you finally hit 200%?"

    "Thanks to the good work of my colleagues."

    "Hahahaha �C how humble, I love that kind ofradeship. Anyway, how can I keep apetent subordinate who outperforms everyone else by double or triple every month as a lowly guard?"

    The ability to organize and lead prisoners is how a guard is judged.

    Vikir was recognized for both his resourcefulness and his integrity.

    Lt. Colonel Bastille is also an adjutant in Colonel D''Ordume''s line, and Colonel D''Ordum is currently devoting all of his attention to Nouvelle Vague''s grand project, the new Level 10.

    Lt. Colonel Bastille, therefore, has everything at stake in this massive expansion.

    Vikir, who has been able to safely eliminate any distractions and whose workload is far greater than anyone else''s, has earned the favor of Lt. Colonel Bastille.

    "You''re not the kind of person to work with just a dozen low-level prisoners. Even the great masters who united half the world during the Warring States Period began their careers guarding warehouses loaded with military munitions."

    "...."

    "I can''t wait to see what you''ll do with the countless guards you''ll have, and the countless prisoners under you. Do you know if my unusual choice will dramatically elerate the construction of Level 10?"

    Lt. Colonel Bastille was a seasoned politician.

    He saw through Vikir''s extraordinary n at a nce and recognized it as the key to getting the Level 10pleted ahead of schedule.

    And that was good news for Vikir.

    "I''m going to put everything on the line and make a difference in Nouvelle Vague."

    Vikir is honest about the n he''s had since he arrived.

    And this brought a smile of satisfaction to Lt. Colonel Bastille''s face.

    ...Chuck!

    The rank insignia inside the box hung on Vikir''s chest.

    Thus, Vikir was promoted from Captain Garm Nord to Major Garm Nord.

    It had happened in less than a year, if you don''t count the time Garm had been a lowly rank.

    "Hahaha. I didn''t get promoted this fast when I was a junior guard, either. The only people who ever did it in the first ce were Colonel D''Ordume and Colonel Souare... and aside from those two earlier examples, you''re probably the first in decades."

    "I will work harder."

    "Okay then. You have to work hard, now that I''m counting on you and watching over you. How sad and frustrated have you been because you haven''t had a chance to show off your abilities? If you think about it that way, that guy named Sakkuth, who is no longer around, must have been lucky for you."

    "No, I didn''t think of it that way."

    "Hahaha! That''s what I think. I think so. He was lucky for me, because he allowed me to find such a capable subordinate as you."

    Vikir looked down at the silver and ck Rose of Sharon on his chest.

    This insignia of rank, which is made by covering BDISSEM pieces with silver, is quite valuable as a sculpture.

    But it was the symbolism of the rank that was important: the various privileges guaranteed by the rank of Major.

    For starters, a Major is recognized as the end of the junior guards and the beginning of the senior guards.

    After being promoted to Major, a person umtes a small amount of seniority and is treated as a senior guard, with the following privileges

    1. Recruit and impose discretionarybor on up to 108 prisoners within the limits of Level 3.

    2. Summarily execute one prisoner for grave inferior offenses, such as refusing to serve or injuring a guard, within the limits of Level 7.

    3. Freely move in and out of the entirety of the Labor Camp at any time of the day or night, without needing to report to a superior.

    4. ess to the ''Breeding Grounds'', ''Execution Grounds'', and ''Punishment Rooms'' if authorized by the higher-ups.

    .

    .

    Vikir''s attention was drawn to numbers one and three of these.

    He could conscript prisoners at his discretion and make them serve at his discretion.

    He could even inspect thebor camp whenever he wanted, regardless of the time of day.

    ''...These are the optimal conditions to operate Poseidon.''

    I didn''t even need to be promoted beyond Lt. Colonel.

    Major was the ideal rank for Vikir, as he had all the key authorizations he needed for the jailbreak, as well as the rtiveck of attention and ease of maneuverability.

    Lieutenant Colonel Bastille gave Vikir a stern look.

    "Just as you have the privileges of being a Major, you also have the responsibilities of being a Major."

    With privilegees responsibility.

    A certain amount of construction progress, the number of times prisoners rioted, the time it took to quell them, the evaluations from superiors and subordinates, etc.....

    But Vikir didn''t care about any of this.

    ''It''s not long now, anyway.''

    The countdown. The moment of escape is fast approaching.

    Vikir was already slowly putting his second n into action following his transformation into a guard.

    Then.

    "By the way, now that you''ve been promoted to Major, I think it''s time for a new adjutant. What do you think? You can have up to three adjutants."

    Said Lt. Colonel Bastille.

    The eyes of the lower-ranking guards around him changed color in unison.

    Now none of the men who had looked down on him as an idiot remained.

    But Vikir shook his head as if he didn''t care.

    "One Lieutenant Kirko Grimm will be enough."

    For a moment, there was a slight hush around them.

    "...?"

    Vikir turned his head, puzzled by the sudden change in the atmosphere, but all he could see was Kirko, her head bowed low and her ears red.

    Then Lt. Colonel Bastille chuckled.

    "Hahahaha �C an internal love affair, not a bad thing, as long as you watch out for a few factors."

    As he finished speaking, Lt. Colonel Bastille looked at Kirko, who was standing next to Vikir, with a strange gaze.

    "... An internal love affair, hmmm. Strange fate, indeed. Children are like their parents after all."

    For some reason, the voice exudes a bit of pity.

    He shook his head, wondering when he had muttered such a thing.

    "Lieutenant Kirko Grimm. A lieutenant is an adjutant, a rank somewhat insufficient to assist a Major."

    "I''ll work hard to make up for it!"

    "You''re already working hard. You''ve consistently performed well on your monthly evaluations, you sacrificed yourself for yourrades during thest Level 8 prisoner riot, and you did an excellent job assisting Major Garm during this execution."

    Lt. Colonel Bastille patted Kirko on the shoulder and said.

    "I have prepared a reward for you as well."

    With that, he handed Kirko a box.

    Inside were three diamonds and a badge symbolizing the rank of Captain.

    "You must have gained quite a bit of experience in this riot and learned a lot. I''m pleased to see that you''ve paired up with a great officer and a great subordinate, and I wish you both the best. Always remember that your promotion is extremely unusual."

    "YES!"

    Both Vikir and Kirko echoed at the words of Lt. Col.

    Major Garm. Captain Kirko.

    They were promoted one rank at a time, to the admiration, respect, and envy of all their junior guards.

    It was then.

    "...Lt. Colonel Bastille."

    A guard with the rank of Major next to him spoke up in a concerned voice.

    Lt. Colonel Bastille turned his head with a puzzled expression.

    "What?"

    "Well, sir. An order hase down from above."

    "From above? From who? Colonel D''Ordume or Colonel Souare?"

    "...Neither of them."

    For a moment, Lt. Colonel Bastille''s expression hardened as he listened to his adjutant''s report.

    "Is this, by any chance, an audit of the specialist?"

    "That''s right, Lt. Colonel ''ck Tongue'' is taking an interest."

    Lt. Colonel Bastille covered his face with his hands.

    "... What kind of whim did that crazy person suddenly have?"

    "They say good things alwayse with a price, don''t they?"

    "Okay. There is nothing wrong with militaryw. Where gratitude is expected for unusual promotions."

    The conversation between Lt. Colonel Bastille and the adjutant was bing increasingly serious.

    Meanwhile, watching from the sidelines, Vikir thought to himself.

    ''...ck Tongue.''

    Lt. Colonel ''ck Tongue''. A man with no name and an unpleasant nickname: ck Tongue.

    He''s one of the top five wardens in Nouvelle Vague and a member of the ''audit team''.

    However, the Audit Team is a team and an organization, and is actually made up of only one person, Lt. Colonel ck Tongue.

    Another nickname for the ck Tongue is "the jailer who catches jailers".

    The Nouvelle Vague has its own system ofws and punishments because thews of thend don''t apply to it, and that goes for the guards as well as the prisoners.

    Unusually for a guard, Lt. Colonel ck Tongue doesn''t punish prisoners, he punishes guards.

    He is the only one of the guards at Nouvelle Vague who is feared, as he investigates internal irregrities, breaches of military discipline, and other misdeeds, and punishes them at his discretion.

    But he was also the least known of the five wardens, even more so than Brigadier General Flubber, whose identity was a mystery to the lowly guards, who were never likely to do anything wrong in the first ce.

    Vikir thought for a moment.

    ''... Lt. Colonel ck Tongue. Good, because he''s someone I''d like to meet personally.''

    Unlike BDISSEM. and Flubber, who were essential to meet before jailbreak, ck Tongue had no direct business with Vikir.

    However, Vikir had a very personal reason for wanting to see Lt. Colonel ck Tongue.

    at that time.

    ppudeug-

    There was a faint, dull noise.

    It was the sound of grinding teeth.

    Vikir heard it and turned his head.

    There stood Kirko, her face impassive.

    "...."

    But judging by the faint veins of blood on her neck and chin, it was Kirko who had just been grinding her teeth.

    Vikir was just about to call out to Kirko to find out what was going on.

    "Major Garm, Captain Kirko. I need to go to the audit room right now."

    Lt. Colonel Bastille spoke up again.

    "Apparently, your promotion was too quick, and the audit team has raised questions. You have a clean background, a clean past, and a clean record, so there shouldn''t be much of a problem, but...."

    He trailed off, his voice a little underwater.

    "Lt. Colonel ck Tongue. Judging by ''personally'', he''s a man to be very wary of. Just keep that in mind and go."

    An ominous tone that could turn a good mood upside down in an instant.

    All the guards, who only moments ago had been looking at them with envy, now look at Vikir and Kirko with sympathy and anxiety.

    But. The hound''s eyes, facing this overwhelming ominousness, were calm as always.

    "I''ll be going, then."

    No, rather, it glowed with a ''personal'' interest.

 Chapter 397: Black Tongue (1)

    <h4>Chapter 397: ck Tongue (1)</h4>

    jeobeog- jeobeog- jeobeog-

    jeobeog- jeobeog- jeobeog-

    jeobeog- jeobeog- jeobeog-

    jeobeog- jeobeog- jeobeog-

    Two footsteps echo in unison through the corridors of salty, sticky dampness.

    The one walking ahead is Major Garm Nord, and the one following is Captain Kirko Grimm.

    Wearing Garm''s identity, Vikir is currently walking towards the Hearing Audit''s Room, where Lt. Colonel ck Tongue resides.

    ''Finally, I get to meet all five wardens.''

    Colonel DOrdume, Colonel Souare, Brigadier General BDISSEM, and Brigadier General Flubber... Each of the Wardens we''ve met so far has been unique.

    However, Lt. Colonel ck Tongue has a reputation for being dark and unpleasant person to the point where the other prison wardens mentioned above seemed ordinary.

    ''How is it possible that he received fewer votes in the poprity contest than Brigadier General Flubber?''

    In the poprity polls by junior and mid-level guards, Colonel ck Tongue always came inst.

    This was despite the fact that they were allowed to vote in duplicate.

    Suddenly, Vikir turned to Kirko, who was trailing behind him, hoping for a clue.

    "Hey, Adjutant."

    "Yeah."

    Kirko''s face flushed a bit, as this was the first time Vikir had spoken to her since he became her superior.

    The next topic, however, was enough to set her expression back to grim.

    "You don''t seem to like Lt. Colonel ck Tongue."

    "...."

    "I heard him earlier."

    Kirko was silent for a moment at Vikir''s words.

    Then she opened her mouth.

    "I don''t gossip about my superiors."

    "Just state the facts."

    Kirko exhaled for a moment. What the hell, if the boss is gossipy, so be it.

    "Real name and age unknown. Rank is Lieutenant Colonel, nickname is ''ck Tongue'' or ''jailer catcher''. I think he got that nickname because he has a ck tongue and he''s on the Hearing and Audit team."

    "I heard he uses a sword, right? I hear he''s very skilled."

    "Yes. It is said that in terms of ability alone. It''s been said that he''s ranked above Colonel D''Ordume and Colonel Souare. However, his personality is so psychotic and his work reputation is so terrible that he should have been promoted to Brigadier General a long time ago based on seniority alone, but he''s still a Lieutenant Colonel...."

    "Internal irregrities, military discipline, hey, he take care of internal disciplinary action and various audits all by himself, right?"

    "That''s right, such things are rarely done within the Nouvelle Vague, unless it''s at the whim of Lt Colonel ck Tongue himself, like today."

    "You seem to be very moody."

    "Yes. The problem is, it''s not just his mood that are severe, but his impulse control disorders and sexual tendencies. He is notorious for molesting and torturing not only prisoners, but even guards."

    Kirko goes on to list the names of those who have been victimized by ck Tongue so far.

    Most of them dead, crippled, or missing after horrific torture.

    "23 years ago, Lieutenant Valentine Grimm, Lieutenant Farran Farrandle... 12 years ago, Lieutenant Yang Bortz, Captain Gordick... 7 years ago, Lieutenant Aubry, Major Jean Dayle... 3 years ago, Lieutenant Marsong, Lieutenant Yodle... 1 year ago, and most recently, Lieutenant Virginia, ording to one of my colleagues...."

    Among them was the name of what must have been Kirko''s mother.

    ''So that''s why you were grinding your teeth.''

    Vikir tore his gaze away from Kirko''s cold face.

    It takes a lot to meet someone with a dark past.

    * * *

    The hearing audit room where Lt. Colonel ck Tongue stayed was located in a dark and damp limestone cave.

    Narrow, steeply sloping stone passageways, twisting back, forth, left, right, up, and down, the caverns were intricately twisted, but there was no need to worry about getting lost because it was a single road.

    "It''s so twisted. There is no decent person who lives in a ce like this."

    "Normally, I wouldn''t infer a person''s character from where he lives, but... I have to agree with you on this one."

    At Vikir''s words, Kirko nodded in agreement.

    With that, they entered a fairly wide-open space.

    It was nothing more than a wide extension of the path they had traveled so far.

    Stctites jutted up and down like teeth, salty water trickled down the walls, deep pools of water pooled on the floor, and....

    "What is this?"

    Kirko scratched her head at the ck ball-like objects on the floor.

    The ck balls, which looked like eggs of some sort, became more and more numerous the further they went, until they covered the floor, walls, and ceiling.

    Neither Vikir nor Kirko knew what these ck spheres, about a meter in diameter, were.

    When they poked at them with their fingers, they could only feel the softness, but they couldn''t tell what was inside.

    Then.

    kkuleuleug-

    The ck ball that Vikir had kicked with his military boot made a strange noise and twisted.

    juljuljuljul...

    Red, yellow juice with an unpleasant smell began to leak from the top of the ck ball.

    "Ugh! what is this smell, it''s like rotting meat...."

    The odor was so disgusting that even the squeamish Kirko frowned.

    With that, Vikir pulled out his three-tiered baton and struck the ck ball.

    peoeog!

    The ck ball popped, and its contents began to gurgle out of the narrow hole in the top.

    "...!"

    In an instant, Kirko''s eyes widened to tears.

    It was a corpse emerging from the ck ball.

    A thin skull and thick blood poured down onto the floor.

    Vikir kicked at the ck balls next to him, one after the other.

    ...peoeog! kkuleuleug! kulkeog!

    Then the same unpleasant popping sound erupted and a foul odor began to emanate.

    The ck ball spat out different things inside.

    A skeleton with only bones left, blood that has coagted like jelly, chunks of yellow fat and flesh, or a desated mummy with only bones and skin remaining.

    Vikir realized at once what the ck balls were.

    "Leeches."

    Leeches. Vampires that attach themselves to their victims and suck their blood.

    But the leeches here in Nouvelle Vague are different.

    There are blood-sucking leeches, bone-sucking leeches, skin-sucking leeches, and so on... Each leech here sucks different things.

    A blood-sucking leech would quickly turn a human-sized person into a mummified mess of bones and skin.

    Bone-sucking leeches remove all of the bones from the body, leaving the victim as a living "blood bag," literally floating in a pool of blood and guts inside the skin.

    When a skin-sucking leech bites someone, they are left with nothing but bones and blood, and the blood quickly solidifies, turning into a jelly-like substance with bones trapped inside, creating a strange and creepy sight.

    The leeches at this point were all full-grown adults, each having swallowed a human in one bite, rolling the body into a ball and digesting it in their stomachs.

    Surprisingly, some of those trapped in the leeches'' stomachs were still alive.

    Kirko heard a thin voice calling his name.

    "Ki, Kirko...."

    The voice sounded as if it could be cut off at any moment, no louder than a breeze.

    Kirko''s eyes widened as she recognized the voice.

    "Virginia!?"

    Lieutenant Virginia. Kirko had been missing since she''d been caught breaking militaryw and taken to Lt. Colonel ck Tongue.

    At best, she''d helped Colonel D''Ordume embezzle military supplies as a low-level subordinate, but at most, she was taken to the auditor''s office for the crime of embezzling a few bags of sugar that were supposed to be returned to the birthday person, and she never returned.

    But Virginia''s voice wasing from inside the ck ball in the distance.

    peoeog!

    Kirko immediately drew her sword and struck the ck ball with all her might.

    The leech''s tough skin slowly sliced away as it touched the aura.

    Kirko finally scratched the leech''s flesh and twisted it open.

    chwaaaag-

    The leech''s bodily fluids spilled out, revealing Lieutenant Virginia inside.

    "...!?"

    Kirko covered her mouth with both hands at the sight of herpanion, whom she hadn''t seen in a year.

    As Kirko stood dumbfounded, unable to find the words to say, Vikir stepped to her side and spoke.

    "It must have been a bone-sucking leech."

    Sprawled on the floor, Virginia was in tears.

    Desperately, she moved her mouth, shaping her lips to convey herst words.

    "Kill... Me..."

    Kirko stood dumbfounded, unable to close her eyes or mouth at the horrific sight.

    It was Vikir who raised his hand in her ce.

    kwag-

    The skilled hound cut off the breath of his target with as little pain as possible.

    "Aaah... aaah...."

    Kirko dropped to her knees, her eyes moistened with tears, and clutched what had once been herpanion with both hands.

    Then.

    "Hathathathathath- what the hell is this?"

    The voice that greeted Vikir and Kirko echoed from the depths of the cavern.

    A ck ball, a single shadow stretched out amongst the countless leeches.

    It was a singrly ck color that stood out clearly against the shadows and darkness that surrounded it.

    "...."

    Vikir squinted his eyes.

    Atst, the most sinister and unpleasant man in Nouvelle Vague had appeared.

    Lt. Colonel ck Tongue.

    Thest of the Five Warden.

 Chapter 398: Black Tongue (2)

    <h4>Chapter 398: ck Tongue (2)</h4>

    "Hathathathathat- what the hell is this?"

    There is a thick and muddy bass sound.

    Vikir squinted to face the man in front of him.

    The entire skin visible under the uniform was ck, and there was not a single hair on the smooth skin.

    Tightly defined muscles were subtly different in cement from human ones.

    The facecked eyelids, nose, and lips, revealing the eyeballs beneath the torn orbits and the sharp teeth.

    bugeulbugeulbugeul...

    The muscle fibers that made up his body moved separately, strand by strand, bubbling like boiling tar.

    Lt. Colonel ck Tongue.

    He was the lowest ranking of the five wardens, but in fact, in terms of seniority, he was the most senior, except for Brigadier General Flubber.

    ''...D''Ordume and Souare said he''s been a lieutenant colonel since they were second lieutenant.''

    Vikir scanned ck Tongue''s entire body.

    The seasoned hound was quick to formte an estimate of his prey.

    But even if he had a rough idea of its power, he still didn''t know how evil it was, or what it was up to.

    So Vikir met ck Tongue with the most benign andmon-sense response possible.

    "I''m sorry for carelessly hurting the leech. I''m so surprised... my heart is still pounding like it''s going to explode."

    Vikir blustered, stealing a nervous sweat.

    Like the hero of a past era, who hid under his desk, pretending to be startled and rattled by the sound of lightning, to hide his extraordinary abilities from his enemies.

    Vikir''s strategy of humbling himself seemed to have some effect.

    The unpleasant, ominous aura that ck Tongue was emitting was diminished, if only slightly.

    "Hathathat- I see you''re Captain Garm, or is it Major, and you''re not as gutsy as you''re rumored to be."

    "It''s a burden because it seems like it''s being overvalued due to the current situation."

    "No. Judging by the rumors, you are aplete monster. Rather, it''s nice to see a humane side, but what~"

    "...."

    "Ah! Have a seat, wherever you''refortable, and don''t mind the leeches, I threw them away when they became a nuisance. I often use them as cushions, though they don''t have much to offer other than being fluffy~"

    ck Tongue turned away with an unpleasant chuckle.

    Every time he moved, Vikir could see the muscles on his back twitching, and upon closer inspection, they were all leeches.

    The tiny, tough leeches were tightly woven throughout ck Tongue''s body, as if each one were a single muscle fiber.

    In other words, he was wearing leeches all over his body. It was like a suit-like full body armor!

    ''... I''ve heard that Lt. Colonel ck Tongue is human, but despite being human, he''s not treated as such, and I can see why.''

    Who would consider a human being to be a human being who wears leeches all over his body 24/7?

    It was a rather generous assessment of a simr species.

    "I see. You''re here sooner than I thought, I guess that Bastille guy was in a bit of a hurry?"

    ck Tongue naturally looked down on Bastille, who was also a Lt. Colonel of the same rank.

    It was natural. If only for time, he should already be a Brigadier General or Major General.

    As Vikir nodded, ck Tongue smiled.

    It was an unpleasant smile, one of those smiles where you''re smiling but not really smiling.

    "I see. How''s that Bastille guy doing, still acting like a helpless pet without his master?"

    "...That''s a difficult question to answer."

    "Hathathathat, from a subordinate''s point of view. As for that Bastille guy~ he used to obey my orders when D''Ordume or Souare were around, but now that those two bastards aren''t around, he''s just as stubborn as ever~ I often have to argue with him because his reactions are hrious~"

    Vikir looked at ck Tongue''s face for a moment.

    He''d heard that ck Tongue didn''t get along with all of Nouvelle Vague''s guards, but he was especially bad with D''Ordume and Souare.

    D''Ordume dislikes ck Tongue for interfering with his efforts to steal various goods from Nouvelle Vague, and Souare has a deeply rooted feud with ck Tongue.

    ''Rumor has it that it was ck Tongue that blew off half of Suare''s face.''

    It was recorded in Garm''s diary that they had met and fought several times during their time onnd, including a famous naval battle.

    ...Well, it wasn''t exactly Vikir''s business.

    Meanwhile, ck Tonguended on the leech in front of Vikir.

    ppujig!

    He sat down on top of the leech, and it spat out a thick, purple juice from its mouth.

    It sounded like a human groaning inside.

    "...."

    "...."

    Vikir and Kirko shut their mouths as if they had made a promise.

    It wasn''t that they were hiding a secret, it was just that the atmosphere was so dank and unpleasant.

    ''Surely there are humans inside those cushioned leeches?''

    ''I''m sure there are, but let''s sit down. If you''re ufortable, sit on the floor.''

    ''...No. I''m not ufortable.''

    Kirko looked determined and sat down on the ball of leeches in front of her.

    It was a determined demeanor, as if she wasn''t going to be overpowered.

    ppujig-

    The leech beneath her ass shudders again, this time spewing out a thick stream of blood.

    No human groans could be heard.

    ''Lucky.''

    Kirko thought, the best of all possible worlds.

    If she could hear a human groan from beneath her ass, she probably wouldn''t have been able to maintain her expression.

    Meanwhile, ck Tongue, seeing Kirko''s eyes narrow for a moment, spoke up with a chuckle.

    "You look like you''re about to get fucked~"

    "...."

    "Joke. Joke. You look tense, so I''m trying to loosen you up~"

    His face still didn''t show much of a smile, but at least the leeches that had taken over his facial muscles could be inferred to be in full bloom.

    "Okay, I''m going to start the interrogation now. It''s simple, so don''t be too frozen. If you''re stiff, your blood won''t flow as well, which is bad for your cirction. It''s also bad for the vor."

    "...."

    "Joke again. A joke. You young people are so serious nowadays, you can''t joke around."

    ck Tongue frowned, but continued in a friendly tone.

    "Haha, I''m afraid I might be a little off-putting �C both in appearance and personality! The average guard never gets to meet me anyway, and there are many who have spent decades in the Nouvelle Vague who have never seen me."

    "...."

    "The ones I do see are always the same. Failure to pay their dues, vition of military honors,ck of discipline, desertion, insulting their superiors... They''re all assholes. If you''ve lived your life upright, you have no reason to be afraid of me. Rest assured."

    ck Tongue continued to waggle furiously for a long time after that, preaching about how people shouldn''t be judged by first impressions or appearances, how people shouldn''t sin, and so on.

    His eyes narrowed as he held in his hand the papers containing the findings of his investigation into Vikir, or rather, Garm.

    ''Let''s see. Separate... Origin is from thend... had an ordinary lower-ss family... Was your career a little below average? But your grades have risen sharply recently? When will this be the starting point? ... Umm, okay... After ''Night Hound'' prison escape incident, your grades improved noticeably... At this time, did you get caught up in some serious ident and as a result you became awakened? Hmm... From then on, it was all sess... It''s like I''ve be a different person... After suppressing a Level 8 prisoner''s riot, it''s a special promotion... It seems like Lieutenant Colonel Bastille openly favored you and pushed you? It''s not like you''re his distant rtives or anything like that, right?"

    ck Tongue stuck out his purple-stained tongue and interrogated Vikir with a poisonous snake-like gaze.

    At the slightest hint of weakness, he could feel its intention to stick to it and suck out everything inside

    ...However.

    "Yes. Ie from the ground. I recently received a telegram telling me that my parents and siblings all died at once. I heard that everyone in my hometown suffered disaster."

    "Oh, I''m sorry to hear that, what happened?"

    "They say there''s a demon on earth and it''s turned my hometown into a sea of fire, though I only heard about it in a few short sentences, so I don''t know the full story."

    "Yeah, it''s kind of hard tomunicate with the outside world here in Nouvelle Vague, isn''t it? Yeah, that must be frustrating. Anyway, did it make you feel like a different person?"

    "It was a trigger."

    Vikir is an unseen being from the Age of Destruction, and his ability to conceal his mana and power is greater than anyone else in the current era.

    What even Hugo, the master of Ironblooded Baskerville, had failed to notice in the first ce, ck Tongue could not.

    "Haathathat. They say there''s been a lot of trouble on the ground these past few months."

    "Is that so?"

    "Yeah. Well, demons or monsters suddenly appear, the dungeon opens, a gate appears, and what else? and it''s been pretty crazy, and that''s why Orca, D''Ordume, and Souare went up to the surface to escort the exploding poption of sinners to this ce, though I''m only here, so I don''t really know."

    ck Tongue muttered in a cheerful voice, checking off items on the paperwork.

    Then he mmed the file shut.

    "Interrogation over, then. Everything''s fine, you. Clean~ clean~ clean~"

    "If you''re done with your business, I''ll just head back."

    "Eh? Eh~ No matter what, I didn''t ask you to leave, so how dare you say that first. I''m a Lieutenant Colonel, You''re so bold, aren''t you?"

    "I''m sorry, I have a lot of work to do."

    Vikir rose from his seat, and ck Tongue opened his mouth in a smirk.

    "Sit."

    "...."

    "No~ What''s with the scary look on your face? Rx~ I didn''t mean what you said."

    ck Tongue waved at Vikir as if telling him to go out.

    The ce where his gaze is directed is behind Vikir.

    "Hothothot. It''s been a long time, hasn''t it?"

    It was Kirko''s face.

 Chapter 399: Black Tongue (3)

    <h4>Chapter 399: ck Tongue (3)</h4>

    ck Tongue was unperturbed by Vikir''s request to get up first, and gave a brief nod of approval.

    "...And so it is."

    The interrogation was over, and there was no reason to remain in such an ufortable ce.

    Vikir gave ck Tongue a curt bow and rose to his feet.

    "Ah...."

    Kirko opened her mouth to say something, but stopped herself.

    ck Tongue had opened his mouth first.

    "You may leave first. I don''t think your adjutant''s interrogation will be very long."

    "Yes, sir."

    Vikir saluted, then turned and walked out of the room.

    Kirko watched his back with aplicated expression, then turned her attention back to the front.

    "...!"

    For a moment, she had to gasp.

    The face of ck Tongue was now right in front of her.

    "Hathathat, it''s been a long time since I''ve seen you."

    ck Tongue took Kirko''s hand and rubbed her shoulder.

    "...?"

    Kirko furrowed her brow in disbelief.

    For one thing, this was the first time she''d ever seen ck Tongue.

    But more than that, it was the cold, firm feel of it against her skin that was so unpleasant.

    So Kirko leaned her upper body back slightly, avoiding contact with ck Tongue.

    "I am new to you, Lt Colonel ck Tongue."

    "Hathathat- yes, I remember you. You used to say such cold things to me every time we met, no matter how hard I tried to woo you~"

    "...What do you mean, I''m obviously meeting you for the first time today."

    "A~ Not again. Okay, I''ll bear with you since it''s been a while. How could I have forgotten your pretty face all these years? I missed you so much! I guess you''re not getting any older, we...."

    ck Tongue pulled the leech muscles across his face into a tight smile.

    "Lieutenant Valentine Grimm."

    A moment. Kirko''s expression went hard.

    She barely managed to keep her lips from falling apart and managed to get a shaky voice out.

    "...My name is Kirko, Captain Kirko Grimm."

    "Huh?"

    ck Tongue looked dazed for a moment.

    Then he raised a fist and made a gesture of punching himself in the head.

    "Damn, look at me. You''re here as Major Garm''s adjutant, aren''t you? You look so much like her that I''ve stopped mistaking you. Well, that was already a few years ago...."

    ck Tongue began to flick through the papers in his hands.

    "That''s right, that''s right, you got a surprise promotion to Captain today. Was Captain such an easy rank to attain?"

    "...."

    "I haven''t seen a Captain so quickly since D''Ordume and Souare. Ah, Major Garm, he''s a bit of an exception."

    ck Tongue looked back and forth between Kirko and the papers and smiled.

    "Age 22, hometown... Eh, Nouvelle Vague? You''re from here? Ah, so you were born here, then, and your parents are guards."

    He rolled his eyes and thought about something, then pped his knees.

    "I see! Somehow, I thought you looked familiar. You''re the child of ''those guys'', aren''t you?"

    Kirko bit her lip at that.

    ''That incident'', 23 years ago now. Kirko was the child born when a prisoner jumped on a guard.

    ck Tongue was referring to that very incident.

    However, things were going to turn out a little differently than Kirko had imagined.

    "That''s right, there was a reputation in the Nouvelle Vague at the time for being a good guy and a good girl. The higher-ups were even considering paternity leave."

    ...?

    Kirko shook her head.

    Surely she was the child of a prisoner and a guard.

    An ominous being whose very birth touched on unspeakable taboos.

    A heretic whose roots lie in the lower reaches, unwee everywhere.

    And yet, what ck Tongue was recalling was so different from what she knew.

    "Yes. I remember them walking around holding hands in a secret love affair, both of them exemry low-level guards. They made me jealous."

    ck Tongue''s voice was hot and sticky with desire, like molten asphalt.

    "Just looking at it made me feel sick to my stomach and I couldn''t bear it, so I had him arrested for breach of military discipline. It happened to be around the same time that D''Ordume and Souare were getting really tough on prisoners, so we had to keep discipline among the guards."

    Kirko''s pupils dte uncontrobly.

    Before she could open her mouth to speak, ck Tongue spoke in a wide grin.

    "So I decided to hastily fake one of the more shocking incidents �C yes, that''s right �C your parents."

    The love of a male guard and a female guard, a secret love affair between lowly junior guards.

    It was forged as an incident in which a prisoner attacked a guard.

    The guards needed a story as shocking as possible to make the prisoners despise and hate them.

    Kirko muttered in a daze.

    "Dad wasn''t... a prisoner? Mom wasn''t... victimised?"

    Kirko thought of her parents, whose faces she didn''t know.

    She hated her nameless, faceless father and pitied her mother, whose only name she knew.

    And now, Kirko knew two things.

    That her mother and father loved each other fiercely, and that her mother''s face was eerily simr to her own.

    "...Maybe I could have been loved by both Mom and Dad."

    Kirko closed her eyes.

    The emotion rising in her chest was unmistakably relief.

    "...Thank God, Dad''s not a bad person, Mom''s not a miserable person. I''m the only bad one."

    No more hating the father.

    No more pity for the mother.

    This alone seemed to lighten her heart, which had been imprisoned since birth.

    ... But there were still unanswered questions.

    "So. What did you do to my parents?"

    Kirko asked, ring at ck Tongue.

    Her tone had changed to a sharp half-speech, but ck Tongue didn''t seem to mind.

    "Why are you looking for your parents from me?"

    "You dragged them away, and they''ve been missing ever since."

    "Yeah, I did that, huh?"

    ck Tongue began to roll around in his eyeballs.

    It looked like it was trying to think hard.

    And then.

    "...Aah!"

    He pped his knee, as if remembering something.

    ck Tongue spoke brightly, like a boy remembering a long-forgotten time capsule.

    "That''s right! I dragged your parents away! I remember screaming loudly no matter how unfair it was... But they just disappeared? Didn''te back? Isn''t that strange? Did they just escape?"

    He set his jaw and thought for a while longer.

    "That''s right, that''s right! I forgot and didn''t let them out! I only locked them up for a few days and got busy interrogating them and forgot! Where do you think they are now...?"

    Huddled eyeballs rolled separately to the left and right.

    Then ck Tongue raised a finger.

    "I remembered! There they are!"

    ck Tongue stretched out his index finger and pointed.

    That''s where Kirko is sitting now.

    It was the ck ball under her bum.

    "Hathathat- you''re sitting on it now. On top of your mom."

    Hearing ck Tongue''s words, Kirko''s expression went nk for a moment.

    For a moment, a shback shed through her mind.

    It was a conversation she''d had when she''d first entered the stone chamber.

    ''Surely there are people inside those leeches that act as cushions?''

    ''I''m sure there are. Let''s sit down. If you''re notfortable, you can sit on the floor.''

    ''...No. I''m not ufortable.''

    She sat down, not wanting to be pushed by the momentum of ck Tongue.

    For a moment, Kirko felt her legs give way.

    As her weight was added to it.

    Poof.

    The leech beneath her ass shudders again, this time spewing out a thick stream of blood.

    And ck Tongue grinned at her, as it had done so many times before.

    "You look like you''re about to get your ass kicked~"

    He stood up from his seat with an exaggerated gesture and walked back to Kirko''s back.

    He stroked the ck ball and said.

    "Joke. Joke. I think you''re nervous, so I''m going to loosen you up~ Your mom will be sad if you''re so stiff, ahhh, this. I''m sorry about your parents. I really did tell them to let them go after a few days, but I must have forgotten and stuck them in a corner. I forgot about them, what the fuck?"

    ck Tongue brushed off the dust that had settled on the ck ball.

    Then he kicked the side of the ball with his military boot, causing everything inside to spill out.

    Chwaaaaak-!

    Thick liquid spread across the floor. It smelled foul.

    ck Tongue held out two hands and said.

    "Say hello. This is your mom and dad. My forgetfulness has dyed this meeting. But how fortunate they are to meet you now. Does it feel good...?"

    However, he didn''t finish his sentence.

    sappug-

    The tip of a sword sliced through the air and grazed his forehead.

    "Gosh! What the heck is this? Bottomless?"

    Quickly jerking his head back to dodge, ck Tongue turned to look at Kirko with a smirk on his face.

    Kirko, who had drawn her longsword from her waistband, faced ck Tongue with a terrifying momentum.

    jjuuug-

    ck Tongue pulled on his neck as if it were rubber, stretching it.

    "That''s a good look, just like your mom, that''s why I like girls who do things like that."

    He didn''t seem to intend to be provocative, but in truth, his every move was an enormous provocation to Kirko.

    Even just smiling, even just breathing.

    sweaeg-

    Once again, Kirko''s longsword sparkled with light.

    However.

    jjuuug-

    The rubbery palm of ck Tongue mmed into Kirko''s abdomen.

    "Kuhugh!"

    She flew like a kite with a broken thread and mmed into the wall behind the stone chamber.

    "Keughh...."

    It looked like a few ribs were broken.

    Maybe sharp bits of bone were embedded deep in her guts.

    "Hathathathat- Your eyes are still there, that must hurt a lot."

    "...."

    Kirko gritted her teeth.

    She must kill him, even if it means dying.

    Prepared for death, she drew all her strength into her sword.

    Flowing...

    Soon, an aura as sticky and dense as honey glowed brightly at the tip of the sword.

    ck Tongue saw it and pped his hands in amazement.

    "Wow! A Graduator at your age? That''s what it takes? That''s amazing. You''re so talented, too bad you''re going to die here. Have you ever thought about getting pregnant? I might be able to give you another year or so of life like your mother...."

    "Shut up!"

    Kirko''s eyes finally rolled back.

    Her sword sliced through the air with killing intent.

    Of course, it did little to erase the genuine smile on ck Tongue''s face.

    ...However.

    A somewhat unexpected result urred.

    Kirko''s sword failed to kill ck Tongue. That was to be expected.

    But there was one thing she did seed in.

    Itpletely erased the deep smile that formed on the corner of ck Tongue''s mouth.

    ... Of course, Kirko did not aplish this alone.

    Tsk.

    Vikir. No, Major Garm Nord.

    He had appeared out of nowhere, stepping between Kirko and ck Tongue.

    ttug- ttudug- hududug-

    ck blood drips from Vikir''s hand as he grips Kirko''s sword de tightly.

    "...I apologise. I forgot my adjutant."

    Vikir said, his head half turned towards ck Tongue behind his back.

    "My adjutant has a severe case of codependency, and when I''m not around, she has these intense anxiety attacks."

    But ck Tongue wasn''t listening to Vikir at all.

    It was simply staring at the drops of Vikir''s blood dripping onto the floor.

    ''Yes. Get him.''

    Vikir nodded, watching ck Tongue''s eyes grow increasingly greedy and mad.

    "Now, if you''ll excuse me, I''d better get going, or my adjutant might go on a blind stabbing spree somewhere, and I don''t mean the lower levels."

    "Uh, yeah. Go ahead."

    ck Tongue merely waved his hand, distracted for some reason by Vikir''s blood on the floor.

    Vikir picked Kirko up and held her close.

    "Now, wait a minute... Ha!"

    Kirko pushed against Vikir''s chest, trying to protest, but the pain in her lower abdomen prevented her from finishing the sentence.

    jeobeog- jeobeog- jeobeog-

    Vikir exited ck Tongue''s chamber, still holding Kirko.

    ''ck tongue...I will see you again soon.''

    The hound''s eyes which momentarily moves away from the baited prey, remain calm as usual.

 Chapter 400

    Chapter 400

    HEL SCANS

    Join our Discord for release /invite/dbdMDhzWa2

    Chapter 400 ck Tongue (2)

    Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha What on earth are you doing now?

    A deep, thick voice resonates.

    Vikir narrowed his eyes as he faced the man in front of him.

    The skin visible beneath the uniform was uniformly dark, devoid of a single hair on its smooth surface.

    The bulging muscles were subtly different in arrangement from those of a human.

    With no eyelids, nose, or lips on his face, the sharp sockets below his pale, torn eyelids and his sharp teeth were inly visible.

    Bubbling

    The muscle fibers making up his body moved separately, bubbling like boiling tar.

    Major ck Tounge

    He held the lowest rank among the five pirs of Nouvellebag, but in terms of seniority, he was second only to Lieutenant Colonel Flubber.

    Dordume and Souare have been Majors since the old days.

    Vikir scanned ck Tongues entire body.

    A cunning hound quickly assessed its prey.

    But while he could roughly gauge the extent of his strength, he couldnt yet determine how ruthless he was or what schemes he was concocting.

    Therefore, Vikir faced ck Tongue with the most cautious and sensible approach.

    I apologize for intruding so rudely Sir. I was just so startled My heart still feels like its about to burst.

    Vikir wiped away a bead of sweat, trembling with false humility.

    Like a hero of a bygone era who hid his extraordinary abilities from his enemies by pretending to be startled by thunder and hiding under his desk.

    Vikirs strategy of lowering himself seemed to have some effect.

    The unpleasant and ominous aura emanating from ck Tongue seemed to dissipate ever so slightly.

    Hah hah Are you Garam, or rather, Captain Garam? You dont seem to have as much guts as the rumors suggested.

    Given the circumstances, receiving such high praise feels burdensome.

    Oh,e on. Going by the rumors alone, youre aplete monster. I actually like seeing your human side for a change, huh~

    Oh! Sit down, anywherefortable. Dont mind the leeches. Theyre just discarded bits, too troublesome to raise. Apart from being soft, they have no other advantages, so I often use them as cushions, you know~

    With a displeased chuckle, ck Tongue turned away.

    Every time he moved, the muscles on his back writhed, but upon closer inspection, they were all leeches.

    These small, tough leeches seemed to be attached tightly to every inch of ck Tongues body, as if each one were a muscle fiber, forming a tight bond with his entire body.

    In other words, he was covered in leeches all over his body, like a suit of armor!

    So Major ck Tongue is human, but even as a human, he doesnt receive human treatment. Now I understand why.

    Who would see someone covered in leeches from head to toe, every hour of every day, and still consider them human?

    Considering him a humanoid was actually quite generous.

    Sure. You came sooner than expected, huh? Bastille must have been in a hurry? ck Tongue casually belittled Bastille, who held the rank of Head Captainl.

    It was only natural; in terms of capability alone, he should already be a major.

    As Vikir nodded, ck Tongue smirked faintly. It was a smile without much joy, a rather unpleasant one.

    Yeah. Hows Bastille doing? Still ying the role of a pet without a master when Dordume and Souare arent around?

    Its a difficult question to answer.

    Hah hah hah, I suppose from a subordinates perspective, it might be. Bastille, that guy~ When DOrdume and Souar are around, hes quick to defy my orders, but without those two, he immediately bes submissive. Its quite amusing. I sometimes provoke him just for the fun of it. His reactions are entertaining.

    Vikir nced briefly at ck Tongues face. Although ck Tongue didnt get along well with any of the Nouvellebags guardians, there seemed to be a particr animosity with DOrdume and Souar.

    DOrdume dislikes ck Tongues interference when he embezzles Nouvellebags various items, while Souar There seems to be a deep-seated enmity between ck Tongue and Souar from the surface. Ive heard rumors that ck Tongue blew away half of Souars face.

    Both had records of meeting as adversaries in famous battles on the surface, ording to entries in Garams diary.

    Well, Vikir didnt really know for sure.

    Meanwhile, ck Tongue perched himself on one of the leeches in front of Vikir.

    Squish!

    As he sat down on the lump, it oozed a yellowish, purplish juice from its mouth. Faint sounds resembling someone groaning could be heard from within.

    Vikir and Kirko fell silent as if they had made some sort of agreement. It wasnt to conceal a secret; it was just that the atmosphere was too eerie and ufortable.

    Surely, there are people inside these leeches acting as cushions, right?

    Most likely. Lets just sit down for now. If its ufortable, sit on the floor.

    No, its fine.

    Kirko sat on the lump in front of her with a determined expression, as if refusing to be intimidated.

    Squish-

    Once again, the lump beneath her buttocks emitted a thick, viscous juice, causing her to shiver. There were no sounds of groaning this time.

    Thank goodness.

    Kirko considered herself lucky amidst the misfortune. If she had heard groansing from under her buttocks, she probably wouldnt have been able to maintain herposure.

    Meanwhile, upon seeing Kirko momentarily shut her eyes, ck Tongue opened his mouth with a mischievous tone.

    Cutie, did you fart~

    Just kidding. Just kidding. I thought Id help ease the tension~

    Though his face still didnt show much of a smile, judging from the leeches covering his facial muscles, one could infer that he was grinning from ear to ear.

    Now, lets start the interrogation. Its going to be brief, so dont freeze up too much. If your body stiffens, blood cirction worsens, and it ruins the taste.

    Another joke. Another joke. Young folks these days are too serious. Cant even appreciate a joke~

    ck Tongue spoke in a friendly tone, with a hint of amusement in his narrowed eyes.

    Anyway, I suppose I might be a bit intimidating~ Both in appearance and personality! After all, ordinary guards never have a reason to meet me, right? Even though Ive worked in Nouvellebag for decades, many have never seen me.

    The ones I see are always simr. Embezzlement, viting military regtions, moral misconduct, dereliction of duty, disrespect towards superiors All just rotten apples, right? If youve lived a straight and proper life, theres absolutely no reason to fear me. Rx.

    ck Tongue continued to lecture for a while, emphasizing that people shouldnt judge others based on their first impressions or appearances and that people shouldntmit sins.

    Finally, he narrowed his eyes while holding a document containing the investigation results about Garam.

    Lets see. Garam from the surface born into an ordinary lower-ss family had a career slightly below average but recently, his performance has skyrocketed. When was the turning point Hmm, yes After the Night Hound prison break incident, their performance noticeably improved Did something significant happen that led to their awakening? Hm Since then, theyve been steadily rising Like a different person Suppressing a Level 8 prisoner riot and getting promoted Bastillet tantly admires Garam and gave him a push? Perhaps theyre distant rtives or something like that?

    With a tongue tinged ck, ck Tongue scrutinized Vikir with a gaze as venomous as a snakes, as if intending totch onto any tiny gap and suck out whatever was inside.

    However.

    Yes. Im from the surface. I recently received news that both my parents and siblings died together. I heard that everyone in my hometown suffered the same fate.

    Oh? Thats regrettable. What happened?

    Demons appeared on the surface and turned my hometown into a sea of mes. I only know the gist of it, so I cant provide detailed information.

    Hmm, well,munication between here and the outside isnt that great, right? Yeah, must be frustrating. Anyway, did that incident change you into a different person?

    It served as a catalyst.

    Vikir, having traversed the era of destruction, possessed abilities to conceal mana and strength to anyone in the current era. Even Hugo couldnt perceive it, so ck Tongue couldnt see through it either.

    Hah hah hah Really? Well, if I went through something like that, Id probably awaken too. They said the surface has been in chaos for the past few months.

    Is that so?

    Yeah. Demons or monsters were swarming, dungeons opened, gates were appearing, or something like that? Anyway, it was a real mess. Thats why Orca, DOrdume, Souar went up to the surface. To escort the increasing number of criminals here. Well, Im just here, so I dont know much about it.

    ck Tongue casually muttered and checked various things on the document.

    Then, he closed the file with a thud.

    Well, interrogations over. Nothing unusual with you. Clean~ Tidy~ Smooth~

    If youre done with your business, Ill take my leave.

    Huh? Ah~ Even if thats the case, I didnt tell you to leave~ Im a Major. Youre quite audacious, huh?

    I have a lot of work. I apologize.

    As Vikir rose from his seat, ck Tongue opened his mouth with the same smiling face.

    Sit the fuck down.

    Come on~ Why the scary face? Rx~ You said it yourself.

    As if urging Vikir to stay, ck Tongue waved his hand. His gaze was fixed behind Vikir.

    Hah hah hah hah. Wow~ Its been a long time since Ive seen this face~

    It was Kirkos face.

    HEL SCANS

    Join our Discord for release /invite/dbdMDhzWa2

 Chapter 401: Jailbreaker (1)

    <h4>Chapter 401: Jailbreaker (1)</h4>

    Mealtime.

    Vikir ate in the mess hall on a rare off-duty day.

    ck bread, pickled sardines, and wilted greens. No corrosion. That was it.

    Despite the fact that it was a meal for a Major-level guard, it was pretty poorly organized.

    ''They must be running low on supplies these days.''

    If this was good enough for a Major, what about the lower ranking guards?

    At this point, he couldn''t even imagine what the prisoners were eating.

    He didn''t see many familiar faces in thebor camp these days, and he wondered if they''ve all starved to death.

    Vikir was sitting alone, eating.

    "Is that true?"

    "Yes. It is."

    He could hear the muffled conversations of the lieutenant colonels at the table in front of him.

    Vikir''s superhuman hearing allowed him to pick up on conversations over great distances.

    "They say thend is in an uproar. Demons and monsters are out in force."

    "They said a giant gate or something opened?"

    "That''s right. They said monsters are pouring out of it."

    "There must have been a breakdown in security. That''s why the prisoner poption exploded."

    "Who cares about security now? The entire empire is in danger."

    Most of them were chattering about surface matters.

    Some of them didn''t seem to believe in anything that happened on thend at all.

    "Wow. How old are you, and do you still believe in demons and such? It''s all fiction, invented by the religious fanatics of the Quovadis."

    "That''s right, I don''t believe in anything I haven''t seen with my own eyes, but I''m 10,000 meters under the sea, is it possible to see it directly? hahaha-"

    "Hmm, but all the new prisoners say they''ve seen demons or something, including the gate."

    "Do you really believe the prisoners whoe in here? They''ve all gone crazy with fear, being trapped in the Iron Maiden and sinking 10,000 meters down."

    Others took the rumor seriously.

    "No, it''s not right, I don''t think we''ve ever had so many prisoners in Nouvelle Vague before. There must be some kind of disturbance on the ground."

    "Yes. If Warden Orca, Colonel D''Ordume, and even Colonel Souare have traveled to the surface to escort prisoners, then something has indeed happened."

    "Yes. Not only is the Warden, the symbol of the Nouvelle Vague, away, but two of the five wardens have gone to the surface at once, which is unprecedented."

    "Isn''t the surface already fucked? From what I''ve heard, gates are opening and demons areing out of them, and the patriarchs of the Seven Great Families of the Old Country are getting assassination threats."

    But. Most of the guards weren''t too interested in the topic.

    "Well, we''ll just have to deal with the criminals here."

    "That''s true. It''s none of our business."

    "Since when are we involved in worldly affairs?"

    "If demons and monsters are running amok up there, wouldn''t it be safer here?"

    "Whatever''s going on up there can''t possibly have reverberated down here."

    The guards of Nouvelle Vague were mostly relegated and isted members of society, with little love for the world or loyalty to the Empire.

    It had been so long since they had been outside that they had little curiosity about how the world had changed.

    They had little curiosity about how it had changed, because it was obvious that they would not be able to adapt to it anyway.

    ... but.

    Vikir, listening to all of this, had a different opinion.

    ''Nouvelle Vague will not be free from the aftermath of the Destruction War after all.''

    In Vikir''s original history, Nouvelle Vague had been safe for some time after the war began.

    Its geography �C 10,000 meters below the surface of the ocean �C was an advantage, allowing it to escape the aftermath of the war.

    However, the demons took notice of Nouvelle Vague''s existence and sent troops to this harsh ce.

    Despite the efforts of Orca Javert, the war hero of a previous generation who had put down the 47 riots, and the current head warden of Nouvelle Vague, and the five wardens under hismand, the power of demons was impossible to stop.

    Then, in the midst of their defeat, Nouvelle Vague fell for reasons that had nothing to do with the demons.

    Most of the guards and prisoners perished in the process, and those who survived came to the surface with a hatred for demons and joined the Human Alliance Forces or fought demons through independent routes.

    ''That should hasten that time a bit.''

    Vikir thought as he chewed on a wilted piece of greenery.

    The condition of the vegetables on the ground must mean that things were deteriorating faster than he thought.

    Then.

    "There you are."

    The chair next to Vikir''s screeched backward.

    Lt. Kirko Grimm. She was suddenly sitting next to Vikir, taking her seat.

    Having recovered her strength, she spoke in a calm voice.

    "Apparently, being promoted changes the quality of information you get."

    "Did you hear anything?"

    "Warden Orca says he''s on his way back. With Colonel D''Ordume and Colonel Souare."

    The ''Big Three'' of the Nouvelle Vague.

    They were currently on their way down to Nouvelle Vague with a huge convoy of prisoners.

    Countless Iron Maidens would be sinking to the bottom of the pitch ck waters, how many of them would make it to Nouvelle Vague alive?

    "Are the guardsing in Gulper eels?"

    "Colonel D''Ordume and Colonel Souare will, and Warden Orcaes ''in person''."

    "...in person?"

    "Yes. As usual."

    Kirko shifted casually to the next topic.

    "Rumor has it that there is a great monster among the prisonersing this time."

    "What''s that supposed to be?"

    "Apparently someone tried to assassinate the patriarch of one of the Seven Great Families, and for that crime it was sent straight to Nouvelle Vague without even a trial. Presumably this person will be transferred there as soon as the construction of Level 10 isplete."

    The arrival of a new prisoner was not exactly Vikir''s concern.

    "When will Warden Orca and the other two wardens arrive?"

    "I''d like them to arrive within a week, if not sooner."

    "The new prisoners will arrive by then."

    Vikir''s eyes turned cold.

    The arrival of new prisoners meant the opening of an entrance ceremony.

    It was the responsibility of Lt. Colonel Bastille, and Vikir, now that he has earned his trust, would be among them.

    If there was to be an escape, this would be the time.

    Especially since the escape Vikir had in mind wasn''t the usual sneak-through-the-openings kind of escape.

    "... I''m going to get busy."

    Vikir picked up his te and stood up. There was a lot to prepare.

    Then.

    Drool.

    As Vikir stood up, Kirko, who was sitting next to him, also stood up.

    There were still a few pieces of ck bread and sardines on her te.

    Vikir said.

    "It looks like you''re not quite finished eating, but why don''t you finish?"

    "When my superior gets up, I have to get up with him."

    "...Why?"

    "Because I''m your second-inmand."

    Kirko replied as if it were obvious.

    Vikir thought for a moment.

    Ever since that day, ever since they''d been audited by ck Tongue, Kirko had followed him closely.

    Always on call, always with him, and always on all the other little extra duties.

    They even had rooms right next to each other, which meant that the only time they were apart was to sleep, shower, and go to the bathroom.

    Whoever came up with the idea of scheduling shifts like this?

    ''...I have a lot of work to do starting tonight, and this is going to throw off my ns.''

    Vikir thought for a moment, then turned to Kirko.

    "So. Are you going to ask me to stay with you tonight?"

    Vikir''s voice was unusually loud.

    Several of the guards returning the tes heard him.

    Kirko''s face turned bright red as she realized the wide-eyed stares of the guards around her.

    "What do you mean by that?"

    "That night. Don''t you remember?"

    "Oh, no!"

    "That''s exactly what you said that night. That you didn''t want to be alone."

    Suddenly, Kirko''s eyes became fierce.

    She spoke clearly, in a low voice, and in an extremely business-like tone.

    "I don''t want you to be mistaken by the fact that it happened once before, but that was a day when I was unusually weak, both in body and mind...."

    "I thought you said you didn''t remember?"

    "...."

    Then Kirko''s face flushed red to the tips of his ears.

    "I thought it was a dream!"

    But her words only reinforced the misunderstanding of those around her.

    "Oh, no! That''s not it! I''m not saying I thought I was dreaming, but I really thought it was a dream...."

    Kirko, who was still panicking and makingments to herself, quickly disappeared from the scene.

    Only then could Vikir clear his head.

    The peaceful (?) life in Nouvelle Vague was over.

    ''The time for the Great Escape hase.''

    Time was running out.

    The time is short. A great unprecedented chaos will engulf the entire Nouvelle Vague.

    This will be the signal for humanity''s counterattack before the extermination.

    It will illuminate the final thorny path the Hound will walk in the future.

 Chapter 402: Jailbreaker (2)

    <h4>Chapter 402: Jailbreaker (2)</h4>

    There was a gate.

    It was massive and solid.

    A perfect circle. The door was white at the top and ck at the bottom, forming a Taegeuk pattern (as the big circle in the Korean g, that is a Taegeuk pattern).

    It was magnificent, overwhelming to behold, and once closed, it seemed to be imprable to anything in this world.

    Diameter 70 meters. Thickness 5 meters. Weighing 6,535 tons. Made of mithril and adamantium, with some copper applied to the surface to prevent corrosion.

    It was shaped like a rounded circle, and the world called it the Gate of Good and Evil.

    It is the main entrance to Nouvelle Vague, the symbol of Nouvelle Vague, and the final dividing line between good and evil, inside and out.

    Standing beneath the massive gate, which forms the ceiling at the very top of Nouvelle Vague''s castle, Vikir marveled.

    " ... Even if Nouvelle Vague were to fall to pieces, this gate would survive."

    [I agree. How did human technology build such a strong gate?]

    When even Decarabia, whose nickname is "The Wailing Wall," is impressed, it''s enough.

    The Gate of Good and Evil, the symbol of the Nouvelle Vague, was muchrger, stronger, and more magnificent than the vaults of the Bourgeois.

    Even Vikir, who had seen it through to the end of the Annihtion War, couldn''t imagine it being destroyed.

    [By the way, human, why are you staring at that door from earlier, are you really going to break it down, I don''t think human strength can break through it?]

    At the frowning Decarabia''s words, Vikir spoke up in a low voice.

    "Do you like to surf?"

    [...?]

    Decarabia rolled its eyes in confusion.

    [Say what you''re thinking, don''t just keep your mouth shut all the time, it''s frustrating to behold!]

    "Was it frustrating to behold?"

    [...You''re not asking because you don''t know, are you?]

    Vikir smiled weakly and looked away.

    "I apologize. I''ve been disciplined to keep my mouth shut my whole life. All my talkative colleagues and brothers have been questioned."

    [...Sheesh].

    Meanwhile, at the Gate of Good and Evil, a number of high-ranking guards, including Lt. Colonel Bastille, were waiting.

    They were awaiting an entrance ceremony that would take ce in a few hours.

    "Finally, Warden Orca ising back. He hasn''t been gone this long in a while. Over two years, I think?"

    "And it''s good to see Colonels D''Ordume and Colonel Souare back as well. It''s been a while since we''ve had the Big Three of Nouvelle Vague together."

    "And there are so many prisoners to escort that the Warden and the two Colonels had to go above all at once?"

    "They say this is the biggest one yet. Security on the ground has copsed and the criminal poption has exploded."

    "Ground? Why would ground security break down? Is there another revolt?"

    "I''m afraid someone in the Nouvelle Vague hasn''t been keeping up with the news. There''s a civil war. Not a group vs. group war, but a nation vs. nation war. Rumor has it that the demons have invaded."

    "That''s bullshit. Destruction and apocalypse are the stuff of religious books."

    "Well, whatever. The world is as chaotic as it was during the Warring States Period, and the Nouvelle Vague, which used to be a hellhole, is now a paradise."

    "By the way, did you hear? There''s a new Level Ten transfering in, sentenced directly to Level Nine without a trial. And she''s a girl. She''s even pretty." (Proofreader: I bet it''s Camus, that wanted to see her dear fianc�� ^^)

    "Are you out of your mind? You''d have to be a monster to be sent straight to Level Nine without a trial, and that''s not even a woman."

    The prisoners were nervous and talking amongst themselves, each in their own way preparing for what was toe.

    And, of course, Vikir was not interested in their conversation at all.

    ''...It''s an opportunity when everyone''s eyes are focused on the news.''

    The new prisoners were brought in wearing BDISSEM handcuffs.

    The guards will pay close attention to the induction ceremony, both to keep an eye on the new prisoners and to keep them in line.

    In the meantime, the supervision and control of the original prisoners is slightly weakened.

    It''s a rhythm he''s mastered over the years as a guard.

    Picking just the right moment, Vikir ns to assassinate Brigadier General BDISSEM.

    Vikir recalled his past battles with her.

    ''Oh, no, no... If I die... Prisoners'' restraints and iron bars... Everyone that loses their strength... That''s it... That''s it... ''

    These were the desperate words of a shriveled, dried-up BDISSEM crawling across the floor.

    Her voice was so desperate that there was not a hint of false light in it.

    ''When Brigadier General BDISSEM dies, all BDISSEM restraints lose their power, right?''

    She had kindly spilled all her secrets, but Vikir had already guessed this before, due to several circumstances.

    ''...I will kill Brigadier General BDISSEM while the guards'' attention is focused on the announcement, and the restraints on every prisoner in Nouvelle Vague will be lifted.''

    BDISSEM''s handcuffs, shackles, and the bars of the cell that bind mana and power will be released.

    The same goes for every prisoner in Nouvelle Vague.

    When this happens, the prisoners who were once inducted will immediately turn on each other.

    The guards will have to deal with the new prisoners first, and then a massive secondary wave of damage from the underground.

    Level 1 on the 1st floor. Level 2 on the 2nd floor, Level 3 on the 3rd floor... As time goes on, stronger and stronger prisoners from the lower levels will rise up to the front gates of this ce where word of mouth was spreading.

    It was clear that there would be a riot of epic proportions, something that had never happened before in the history of Nouvelle Vague.

    ''Crisis is opportunity, and every second of every day will be filled with life-changing opportunities.''

    And Vikir nned to exploit the chaos, activate Poseidon, and break out of prison.

    Only then would his escape beplete.

    ''To do that, I''ll need to work on BDISSEM in advance.''

    Vikir quietly stepped back.

    With all the guards looking nervously at the Gate of Good and Evil, it was a good time to sneak around the back.

    ''Wait, before I do that, I have to stop by....''

    Vikir gave himself a little time before putting his n into action.

    He had two people to meet before that.

    However, the first one came to him before he could get there.

    "...!"

    Vikir felt a hand on his back as he was being pulled backwards and spun around.

    Kirko was ring at him from behind.

    Unable to guess what she was thinking, Vikir spoke in a casual tone.

    "What are you doing here, Adjutant? I thought you were off-duty today."

    "...I can''t take the day off alone when my superior officer is on duty. I came out to help."

    She was fully dressed, right down to her uniform.

    Vikir gave a small sigh.

    "I was just heading to your room."

    For a moment, Kirko''s face flushed a faint red.

    "Well, if you think my room is an easy ce to go just because it happened once that night...."

    At Kirko''s reaction, which seemed to indicate another misunderstanding, Vikir shook his head.

    "No, don''t go back to your room tonight."

    "...."

    Kirko''s face turned even redder.

    "Is that an order? If you''re so adamant about it, I''ll have no choice but to obey you. I''m your subordinate, after all...."

    "...?"

    Vikir furrowed his brow for a moment as the conversation continued in a circle.

    Then, in a voice as cold and sharp as ever, Vikir spoke to Kirko.

    "Go to the fifth floor, to the gulper eel kennel, right now."

    "...?"

    "Don''t ask me why. You are to wait there unconditionally until I tell you to go there. This is an order."

    Kirko shook her head, but the seriousness in Vikir''s tone made her nod.

    "...I have a feeling something is about to happen, sir, I understand."

    Kirko was a smart person.

    Her answer was trustworthy.

    Vikir nodded and turned away.

    The second hand moved relentlessly.

    The predicted bloodshed.

    Now it was really goodbye to the Nouvelle Vague.

    * * *

    Dripping-

    Dripping corridors.

    Vikir walked through empty corridors and over the arched bridge that connected spire to spire.

    Several lower-ranking guards stand guard and salute when they see Vikir.

    He recognized them from his room as a low ranking guard.

    Vikir returned their salute with a raised hand.

    Then he said something.

    "You are no longer on guard duty. Proceed to the fifth floor and stand by. The kennels will not be essible at this time, so the closer you are, the better."

    The only way to survive what was about to happen.

    Vikir said this to most of the guards he met.

    The lower-ranking guards, hearing Vikir''s words, look at each other and shake their heads.

    jeobeog- jeobeog- jeobeog-

    The ck corridors and spiral staircases are endless.

    An abyss 10,000 meters below the ocean floor. Vikir continues to fall into the dank, damp silence.

    A deep-sea fish passes through a window made of flubber slime, emitting a dull glow.

    Just two more turns around the corner in front of him and he would be in the room where BDISSEM was staying.

    ... just then.

    "Where do you think you''re going in such a hurry, Major ''Rotten Dog'' Garm?"

    An eerie voice came from the darkness up ahead.

    "No, should I say Major ''Night Hound'' Vikir, h hathathat-"

    Augh he''d heard once before.

    Vikir curled the corners of his mouth dryly.

    "Okay. I was going to take a look at your face before I left."

    There was only one other being in Nouvelle Vague who sounded so unpleasant.

    A man with sinisterly writhing ck skin, eerie eyes, and teeth.

    Lt. Colonel ck Tongue.

    He was crouching in the darkness, waiting for Vikir.

 Chapter 403: Jailbreaker (3)

    <h4>Chapter 403: Jailbreaker (3)</h4>

    jiiing- jing-

    The magic sword Beelzebub vibrated on the wrist of his right hand.

    It bared its teeth at the darkness in front of it, like the tip of apass.

    And.

    "Where are you going in such a hurry, Major ''Rotten Dog'' Garm?"

    Lt. Colonel ck Tongue emerged from the darkness in the direction Beelzebub was pointing.

    "No, should I say Major ''Night Hound'' Vikir, hathathat-"

    ck Tongue was muchrger than he had been thest time they had seen him.

    The muscles that wriggled throughout its body were clearly leeches, each and every fiber.

    They were pulsing, stretching and contracting.

    ck Tongue stretched out arms longer than his legs.

    He crawled out of the darkness, gripping the floor and walls with palms that grew to be many times the size of his face.

    "You''re not Garm, are you?"

    "...."

    "Common sense tells me it''s impossible for a junior garbage man to awaken one day and be promoted to senior guard."

    "...."

    "The other assholes act like they''re hiding their power or something, but... I''m not. I''m the onlymon sense person here in Nouvelle Vague."

    ck Tongueughed through his gaping mouth.

    Vikir grinned back.

    "You talk a lot for a man who tasted blood and recognized it."

    "What, did you just admit it, hathathat-"

    "Yes."

    There was no point in disguising his identity on the way out.

    Vikir summoned the power of the Basilisk, and the burn marks on his face were erased in an instant.

    His bushy hair slicked back and the burn marks cleared away, revealing his true features.

    Vikir revealed his true form, and ck Tongue lolled out in front of him.

    "Prisoners are not my business, but I have no choice!"

    At the same time.

    Squeeze!

    The darkness around ck Tongue began to move rapidly.

    Just as his vision was about to get even darker, arge palm flew straight into his eyes.

    "...!"

    Vikir jerked his head back.

    The rubbery fingers of ck Tongue flicked across his cheek.

    jjuuug-

    Blood was drawn from the wound and sucked into ck Tongue''s fingers.

    But.

    hududug- hududug- hududug-

    Vikir''s blood was sucked towards ck Tongue''s fingers, but it quickly lost its strength and scattered to the ground.

    ck Tongue had retrieved his vampiric power midway through.

    "Now that I think about it, your blood looks a little strange. I think it will only be bad for my body if I suck it for no reason."

    Apparently, ck Tongue had noticed the frightening poison in Vikir''s blood.

    pis-

    Vikir ducked low to avoid the flying palm behind him, and ran.

    Severed hair flew behind him as ck Tongue''s body closed in on him.

    Snapping his arms back, Vikir snatched Beelzebub from his wrist and aimed for ck Tongue''s empty body.

    Then.

    Zeeeeeeeing-

    An annoying vibration burned his right arm.

    The magic sword Beelzebub had been reacting abnormally since earlier.

    ''...What is that?''

    It''s a reaction he hasn''t seen since he got it, and while it doesn''t interfere withbat, something about it bothers him.

    Vikir paused for a moment as he felt a vibration in his right hand.

    "Wee."

    The muscles of ck Tongue reacted sensitively to Vikir''s approach.

    Every single muscle fiber leech stiffened, and all at once, they charged at Vikir.

    It was like hundreds of arms sprouting from his body.

    Vikir abandoned his approach without a word.

    He swung Beelzebub and removed the leeches from the ck Tongue''s entire body, one by one.

    ...peoeog! ...peopeog! hududug-

    The blood, flesh, and guts of the bloody leeches began to scatter in all directions.

    All the while, Beelzebub continued to tremble, but it didn''t seem to hinder the battle.

    Meanwhile, while Vikir was swatting away the leeches flying through the air, ck Tongue untied the strap of the sack around his waist and began to shake out what was inside onto the ground.

    It was a small ball, a leech egg.

    The leeches hatched from the eggs and crawled across the floor toward Vikir.

    ''This is the same stuff that was stuck to Kirko''s stomach.''

    Vikir''s eyes sparkled.

    The blood-sucking leeches on ck Tongue''s body weren''t particrly desirable, but those that stole the power and form of their opponents were personally desirable.

    ck Tongue noticed Vikir''s gaze and spoke with a chuckle.

    "This is an ultra-rare species that I have only recently seeded in breeding and farming after a lifetime of research. Have you ever heard of a ''doppelganger leech''?"

    "No, I haven''t."

    "Hathathat- of course you haven''t, it''s a top secret even within the Nouvelle Vague!"

    A purple tongue darted out of his mouth, and another mouth opened at the end of it.

    "For your information, I was granted permission to use any prisoner or guard in the Nouvelle Vague as a guinea pig for my research and development of this leech."

    "Permission? Who gave you that right?"

    "Who could it be? Orca, that cranky old man. He''ll do anything to increase the security of the Nouvelle Vague. He''s probably willing to work with the demons."

    ck Tongue chuckled.

    "Actually, the research and development ended a long time ago~ I''d rather not call it done and have a little fun with it."

    Hearing that, Vikir nodded silently.

    Suddenly, he remembered Kirko''s face.

    She and her parents had lost everything, then, simply because of one psycho''s entertainment.

    All the happiness of a family, all the joy and fulfillment of a parent, all the love and happiness a child deserves, all sucked out of them by a leech.

    ''...Thank God, my dad''s not a bad person, my mom''s not a miserable person. I''m the only bad kid.''

    He remembered Kirko''s words.

    The Ghost Castle of the Great Deep. A child born and raised here. A woman with nowhere to turn.

    "...."

    Vikir took a deep breath and let it out.

    Huh.

    When the hot exhtion had been drawn out, the vibration of Beelzebub on his right arm had stopped cold.

    Night Hound had decided to be a dirty dog for now.

    "I will take your leech and spread the word about it, but not now."

    Vikir said briefly.

    At the same time, Beelzebub''s sword protruded from his wrist, scratching sharply at the surrounding area.

    ...pakang! kkadeudeudeudeug! deuleuleuleug! kkigigigigigigigigig-

    The tip of the awl sliced through the stone floor and stone walls.

    Puff-puff-puff-puff-puff!

    The huge number of crawling leeches burst into mes, all of them dead.

    "...."

    ck Tongue''s mouth snapped open for a moment.

    He was astonished at Vikir''s ability to kill all those tiny leeches in the pitch darkness.

    "Apparently you''re a much trickier prisoner than I thought, well, the fact that you removed the BDISSM handcuffs was unusual. Hathathat-"

    But ck Tongue was still cking off.

    The source of its ck was soon revealed.

    "...!"

    Vikir narrowed his eyes.

    ck Tongue had slowly drawn back, and around him, the ck balls were beginning to appear.

    ''Youid this out for me, knowing I''de for BDISSEM.''

    Vikir eyed the corridor that stretched out beyond the darkness.

    The leeches were so swollen that they could easily fit one or two people.

    They can be seen clinging to the floor, walls, and ceiling, blocking Vikir''s path.

    "Don''t worry. I didn''t tell anyone, and it wouldn''t help if the idiots came."

    ck Tongue smirked.

    "My children are far morepetent. Here, look. These are new species I''ve invented. Oil-sucking leeches and body heat-sucking leeches! They''re a bit difficult to breed, and they''re a minor species, so we won''t be able to mass produce them."

    Both types of leeches were plumped up and pointing their snouts in this direction.

    And then.

    peopeong!

    The leeches began to squirt out what was inside.

    The oil-sucking leeches spewed out the oil they had stored in their guts, and the heat-sucking leeches spewed out the heat they had stored in their guts in the form of mes.

    The hot oil bubbled, boiled, and flew, eventually creating a massive inferno.

    It was enough firepower to make even Vikir want to avoid a head-to-head fight.

    peopeopeopeong!

    Oil and me swept down the straight corridor in a loud explosion.

    The dampness that had been lingering dried up, leaving nothing but charred stone and ash all around.

    "Hathathat, what a shame, a few more leeches and the fire would havested a little longer, but was it enough?"

    ck Tongue muttered as he stared out over the thick soot.

    But.

    "...!"

    ck Tongue''s eyes narrowed.

    As the mes and smoke cleared, he could see something up ahead.

    It was a zing ck light, an inferno.

    It was Vikir, using Decarabia as a shield.

    "Hmm? Is this all? Just when things were getting a little hot, it''s over."

    "Hathathat- you really do piss people off."

    A ck line of veins sprouted on ck Tongue''s forehead.

    Then, he lowered his stance to face Vikir in front of him.

    "Good. You win. I have no choice but to reveal my bottom line."

    ck Tongue pulled out a longsword, roughly sheathed in bandages.

    The handle was wrinkled and hard, like a whole piece of meat dried into jerky.

    ck Tongue gripped it carefully, the dirty bandages tattered underneath.

    Vikir asked.

    "Were you a sword wielder? I''ve never heard of it."

    "Maybe, it has rarely been used against humans."

    ck Tongue grinned and took off all the bandages that had been wrapped in ce of the sheath.

    A momentter, the hideously distorted hilt of the sword came into Vikir''s view.

    "!"

    At the same time, Vikir realized why Beelzebub had been sending subtle vibrations to his right arm all along.

    "...I never knew that sword was here."

    It was the resonance of his own kind.

 Chapter 404: Jailbreaker (4)

    <h4>Chapter 404: Jailbreaker (4)</h4>

    Vikir fixed his gaze on the sword in front of him.

    He couldn''t say for sure who it was, but he had a hunch.

    An unprecedented Great Demonic Sword whose notoriety extended far beyond the Demon World and into Middle Earth.

    The Seven Ancient Demon Constetions, also known as the Seven Great gues.

    The remains of these Seven Ancient Demon Constetions were brought into the mortal world in some form, whether material or conceptual, and despite no longer being able to interfere with thews of cause and effect, they retained some of the power of their lives.

    One of these was this sword, Beelzebub.

    ''But there are six others.''

    Vikir thought, looking at the red sword of Beelzebub protruding from the wrist of his right hand.

    Humans called the seven swords made from the remains of the Seven Demon Constetions the ''Seven Demon Swords''.

    This Beelzebub is one of them.

    ...And the sword in front of Vikir was also one of the magic swords included in the Seven Demon Swords.

    The magic sword Asmodeus. A fearsome sword that rivaled Beelzebub.

    One of the final weapons brought by the demons in theter stages of the Age of Destruction.

    ''It was one of the great weapons of the First Corpses, and I never thought it would be here.''

    Vikir thought as he gazed at Asmodeus, the magic sword in front of him.

    And Asmodeus''s current owner, ck Tongue, stared at the wrinkled hilt with a mesmerized look in his eyes.

    "Once upon a time, I had a leech that I loved... No, now that I think about it, maybe it wasn''t a leech at all, well, anyway."

    ck Tongue was now exining how he had acquired the magic sword Asmodeus.

    "It had a great appetite for blood, very greedy, but it kept sucking blood, and it got too big and strong and out of control."

    ck Tongueughed as he kissed Asmodeus'' sword.

    "So I tricked it, locked it in solitary confinement, and starved it to death. Souare had a hard time with that, I guess?"

    "...."

    "But this one, it turns out, is so strong that no matter how long I locked it in solitary confinement, it wouldn''t die. Instead, it just stays skinny and unmoving, like it''s hibernating, and no matter how long I try to dry it with hot air, it doesn''t die, it just shrivels up~"

    ck Tongue grinded the leech, which had turned into a solid stick of meat, against a whetstone.

    "There was a ton of meat powdering out. But as a result, it became so sharp, right? Does it look like a real sword?"

    It''s amazing that the remains of the Demon Constetion didn''t lose its bloodlust after such a long time after it was separated from its deceased body, but it''s even more amazing that there was a madman who grinded it into a sword.

    ''So this is how the magic sword Asmodeus was born.''

    Vikir marveled at the madness of ck Tongue.

    But it''s only admiration as a spectator to the show, the hound eyeing his prey with his usualzy gaze.

    "You''d better be careful. That sword does not serve an unworthy master. It''ll take the opportunity to bite, and then turn around and eat you."

    Before the regression, he''d seen many examples.

    Humans and demons alike have fallen prey to the sword.

    But Vikir''s warning did not fall on deaf ears.

    ck Tongue smirked and lifted Asmodeus.

    "This one still wants blood, even after all this time. Yes, he wants your blood, and he wants it hard."

    It was true.

    Asmodeus was swelling up, drinking the blood of ck Tongue.

    It pulsed like a madman, eager to lunge at the Vikir in front of it!

    And then.

    ng!

    The two magic swords shed together.

    "...."

    Vikir swallowed a groan at the weight on his wrist.

    He wasn''t sure how dried out therge hunk of meat was.

    It was certainly small in volume, but it weighed a ton, and its strength far exceeded that of any metal.

    Just as arge hunk of meat bes smaller and harder when it dries out.

    Kiriririk-

    Moreover, the sword itself bends at odd angles and shes through gaps.

    It was like watching a vampire itself, a single, blood-crazed leech.

    peoeog-

    Asmodeus bent like a whip, avoiding friction with Beelzebub.

    peopeopeog!

    Just as Beelzebub of Vikir stabbed ck Tongue in the chest, Asmodeus of ck Tongue also stabbed Vikir in the thigh.

    "Aaaah!? You damned bastard, you''re supposed to protect your master before your meal!"

    ck Tongue screamed, but the shape of his mouth was smiling.

    Madness. It is indeed the sword of its master.

    "...."

    Vikir frowned.

    Even though the sword was rampaging on its own, it was all taking routes optimized for killing.

    In addition, ck Tongue had considerable swordsmanship skills.

    Perhaps he could even crush Colonel D''Ordume or Colonel Souare with simplebat power alone.

    Tsutsutsutsuts...

    Vikir had tried to tap into the power of the starvation drought within Beelzebub, but it was clearly inferior to Asmodeus'' bloodsucking abilities.

    Moreover, Asmodeus was gulping down Vikir''s blood, which contained Madame''s poison.

    "What a troublesome guy."

    Vikir said briefly, stepping back.

    ck Tongue smirked and followed Vikir.

    "Are you scared? Are you afraid? Why are you running away?"

    "...."

    Vikir stepped back, silent. He took the route back the way he''de.

    But ck Tongue wouldn''t let him get away.

    "Fear makes you blind and deaf, my friend."

    At the same time.

    Grasp!

    ck Tongue''s arm snapped a little more grotesquely.

    "...!"

    Vikir saw Asmodeus, who had let go of Beelzebub, was also bent at an even more severe angle.

    ck Tongue smiled.

    "No wonder, the more blood it sucks, the more flexible it bes."

    As dried beef jerky absorbs water, it bes softer.

    The same was true for Asmodeus.

    Asmodeus coiled itself into an even more vtile shape than its previous trajectory, and then mmed into Vikir''s face.

    "...!"

    Vikir quickly jerked his head to the side, but ck Tongue''s deft swordy only seeded in pushing Asmodeus deeper and deeper into Vikir mouth.

    kwadeug!

    Vikir''s ear was ripped off entirely.

    It was such a severe wound that even the organs inside, such as the cochlea and the semicircr canal, were ripped out.

    "Ugh."

    A groan escaped Vikir''s lips.

    Even if the cotton swab was inserted just a little deeper into the ear, it hurt, but when the entire ear was torn and pulled out, the pain was indescribable.

    Tsutsutsutsuts...

    Basilisk''s regenerative powers quickly healed the wound, but it would take time to regenerate the intricate organs within.

    Shudder-

    The deafening noise in his ears naturally messed with his bnce and sense of distance.

    ck Tongue lunged at the staggering Vikir, mouth mouth wide open all the way to the ears.

    A smile filled with madness.

    "Hathathathat- die, Night Hound!"

    Vikir swung his sword at the maddened ck Tongue.

    jjeojeojeojeojeog!

    The deafening shes of the sword swung back and forth, left and right.

    But none of them touched ck Tongue.

    In fact, they flew in the wrong direction.

    "Hathathat! You''ve made aplete fool of yourself!"

    ck Tongue sneered at Vikir, who was swinging his sword at the wrong ce.

    ...kwang!

    ck Tongue ferociously shes at Vikir, his body more than twice asrge as before due to his excitement.

    The leeches covering his body were bubbling with his excitement.

    ck Tongue slobbered and mocked atop Vikir''s body.

    "With all thismotion, it must be bad, maybe D''Ordume or Souare wille. Heck, maybe the old man himself, Orca, wille to visit. How are you feeling, nervous, breaking out in a cold sweat, your eyes spinning?"

    But.

    "Uhm. That won''t work."

    D''Ordume or Souare might have been fine, but Orca is too much.

    At the click of ck Tongue, Vikir replied briefly.

    "I wanted leeches, so I invested some time, but I don''t think I have time to y with you anymore."

    Vikir raised his left hand as ck Tongue gave him a questioning look.

    "...!?"

    ck Tongue''s two eyes bulged.

    The leather sack filled with the eggs of the new leeches was now in Vikir''s hand.

    "Goodbye, then."

    Vikir said a short farewell.

    At the same time.

    ...kwakwang!

    The corridor shook.

    The walls, floor, and ceiling of the corridor cracked, following the trajectory of Vikir''s blows.

    jjeojeojeojeojeojeog!

    An entire section of the corridor had been cut out. So was the flubber slime that coated the building''s exterior walls.

    "...?"

    ck Tongue suddenly felt the floor he was on-or rather, the entire room-shift.

    Like a slice of cake falling away, the entire space in which ck Tongue was standing was moving away from the corridor.

    Nouvelle Vague is a castle in the depths of the sea. In the direction the piece was headed, of course, was the deepest depths of the sea, the seabed of the Great Deep.

    chwaaaaag-

    The waters of the deep rushed in like crazy.

    "Ugh!? Something like this! Just swim back!"

    ck Tongue was very embarrassed at having suddenly fallen into the sea and was struggling with its limbs.

    Then.

    "...!"

    ck Tongue looked up.

    The hound preparing to leap at him, the seasoned veteran''s gaze.

    "That annoying guy...."

    Vikir unleashed his reserved power at ck Tongue, who was pushed out to sea.

    8th Baskerville Form. ck Sun.

    Extremely concentrated aura forms a ck sphere, sucking in everything in its path.

    ...kuleuleuleuleuleug!

    The approaching waters swirled in a vortex, and ck Tongue, trapped in the center, could barely squirm.

    And then, withplete dominance, the hound delivered its final sentence.

    "Get lost"

    It was simple and clear.

 Chapter 405: Jailbreaker (5)

    <h4>Chapter 405: Jailbreaker (5)</h4>

    ...sh!

    The sh fired by Vikir isunched toward the center of the vortex.

    The ck pir created by the aura stretched vertically.

    "Aaahhhhhh-!"

    The scream of ck Tongue became a mere foam in the water.

    ...Rumble!

    The ck bricks crumble like sponge blocks.

    The ck tongue caught at the end of the powerful sma wave flew straight into the deep sea.

    A whole section of the corridor he was standing on was torn off like a piece of cake and floated out of Nouvelle Vague''s nature.

    There''s no way he''d survive being exposed to 10,000 meters of water pressure.

    Even ck Tongue in the realm of superhumans wouldn''t have the strength to survive.

    Slurp...

    A transparent membrane began to descend before his eyes.

    Brigadier Flubber''s mucus coats the entirety of Nouvelle Vague''s nature.

    Whenever a hole is made in the castle, the mucus is spread out to prevent water from entering.

    A coating of mucus has formed in the corridor that Vikir cut.

    The water flow slowed significantly, and soon the floor was revealed.

    Trickle, trickle, trickle...

    The remaining seawater flowed down the slope of the corridor and down the spiral staircase.

    Vikir stood on the wet stone floor and peered through the transparent membrane.

    Just then.

    "...!"

    Vikir''s crimson eyes, visible through his wet bangs, narrowed.

    Something was approaching.

    From beyond the darkness of the deep, something huge wasing toward him.

    With insane speed!

    [Gua-aaaaaah!]

    ck tongue! No, what is ''supposed'' to be ck Tongue!

    It was no longer in human form.

    It was an extremely elongated creature with countless leeches clinging to it, technically resembling a sea serpent or deep-sea eel.

    It bared its razor-sharp teeth in front of a crushed, melted face.

    It swam at a terrifying speed, rushing toward Nouvelle Vague, or more precisely, toward Vikir''s area.

    Upon closer inspection, Vikir realized it was not ck Tongue.

    ''ck Tongue is dead, and that must be Asmodeus in true form.''

    Asmodeus the Magic Sword sucked all the blood from the dead ck Tongue, whose lungs burst under the pressure of the deep sea.

    Using its desires and thoughts as nourishment, it regained its true form before it dried up.

    [Gua-aaaaaahh!]

    The sea serpent, a grotesque creature that could not be found anywhere else in the world, opened its mouth.

    Gums and teeth sprouted haphazardly, left, right, and center, in full bloom.

    Vikir clicked his tongue.

    "This is how swords that eat their masters...."

    Beelzebub resonated in his right hand.

    Vikir stretched out a finger and snapped the hilt of Beelzebub''s sword.

    "Don''t even dream."

    At the same time, Night Hound''s eyes glow red.

    Baskerville 8th Form. ck Sun.

    Eight teeth circle the sphere, crushing everything in their path.

    Asmodeus, sucked in, lets out a grotesque scream and twists and shudders, but cannot escape the fate of being dragged into the center of the ck sun.

    ppageujag! wagigigigig!

    With a loud crash, the sound of something shattering was heard.

    Vikir could tell by the sensation in his hands that he was controlling the Eight Teeth.

    The magic sword Asmodeus had beenpletely shattered.

    And then.

    The ck Sun sank, and within it was the shattered remains of the sword, broken into nine pieces.

    Silence. The frenzied rampage of a moment ago was nowhere to be seen.

    They sink silently, wordlessly, row by row, toward the darkness of the deep, like the remains of a shooting star that has fallen into the sea and cooled.

    "...The dog that bites its master is boiled."

    Vikir murmured coldly as he watched the sinking remains of the sword.

    It was a truth Vikir knew all too well from his own experience.

    In the end, one of the Seven Swords, Asmodeus, sank into the depths of the sea in nine pieces.

    It had been lost forever.

    The Seven Swords were now six, with one destroyed.

    ''But I can''t say for sure. It''s a sword with a strong life force, so it might still be alive.''

    But is there a human who can pick it up and use it?

    On this point, Vikir was skeptical.

    It would be a waste, but it was impossible to handle more than two swords anyway.

    Vikir shook off any lingering regrets about the sunken Asmodeus.

    Instead, Vikir chose to focus on the actual harvest.

    "More than that, I finally have it."

    Vikir lifted his left hand.

    It was a thick leather hilt, quite heavy.

    He opened the pouch and found it filled with dark eggs.

    These are the egg sacs of sea leeches, ck eggs that aremonly found on the carapace of snow crabs.

    The tertiary egg membrane, which forms a sac within the strong foreskin until the leechrvae inside hatch, is hard and stic and not easily broken.

    ''So this is a variant that ck Tongue put a lot of effort into?''

    Vikir recalled the leech that had once attached itself to Kirko''s stomach, gradually taking on Kirko''s appearance.

    Perhaps if it had been a littleter, the leech would have grown to look exactly like Kirko.

    "A secret weapon as good as the Blood Daylily."

    Vikir opened Andromalius''s barrier and stored the leech eggs inside.

    It woulde in handyter.

    ''Now it is time to capture BDISSEM.''

    The finale has entered the countdown.

    Vikir left without hesitation.

    To bring about theplete copse of all of Nouvelle Vague''s systems.

    * * *

    jjeoeoeoeoeog-

    The symbol of Nouvelle Vague, the Gate of Good and Evil, opened.

    ...kung! ...kung! ...kung! ...kung! ...kung! ...kung! ...kung!

    A huge amount of seawater poured down like a waterfall from above, causing countless Iron Maidens to fall to the ground on the first floor.

    And the gulper eels that had departed from the ground had just arrived through the deep sea dock on the 5th floor.

    "Open the coffins!"

    Lieutenant Colonel Bastille ordered, and the guards stepped forward and pulled the Iron Maidens open with a twist.

    Inside, the prisoners were pulled out.

    Prisoners who had traveled a journey through the depths of the sea.

    Most of themy in their coffins, dazed and drooling, or already dead.

    Some prisoners were left in the form of a stew mixed with thick meat porridge and blood.

    "Ugh, I guess this one will have to be fed to Brigadier General Flubber."

    "Oh, but he''s alive, send him straight to the front lines! Ew, he just died."

    "Keep the bodies in one ce. Send them to Brigadier General Flubber!"

    "For crazy people, a whip is medicine! Bring them back to their senses!"

    The sound of clubs and whips echoed around the room.

    Then the surviving prisoners scrambled to their feet and made their way to the entrance.

    This time, the number of new arrivals was quiterge, so the guards were also busy.

    Just then.

    ...thud!

    Thest of the coffins fell.

    The guards were about to approach it.

    "Wait! Don''t touch it!"

    "We will escort it ourselves!"

    A gravelly voice came from behind them.

    All the guards, including Lt. Colonel Bastille, turned around in rm.

    There were Colonel D''Ordume and Colonel Souare, who had just returned to Nouvelle Vague.

    Colonel D''Ordume and Colonel Souare grabbed thest Iron Maiden from either side and descended into the lower levels.

    "She is an prisoner of Level 9 and will be transferred directly to Level 10 for her crimes."

    At those words, all the guards swallowed nervously.

    There was no telling how dangerous this monster could be, and why the two wardens were so wary.

    Meanwhile, Colonel D''Ordume spoke to Lieutenant Colonel Bastille.

    "Warden Orca will be returning soon. Prepare a weing ceremony."

    "Yes!"

    Lt. Colonel Bastille quickly turned his head.

    At times like this, a good subordinate must be quick on his feet.

    "Garm, where is Major Garm?"

    Lt. Colonel Bastille searched for the bright young officer he had recently added to his entourage.

    But Major Garm is nowhere to be seen.

    There were too many new prisoners and the guards were too busy moving about to find him.

    Then.

    Lt. Colonel Bastille spotted a guard retreating backwards.

    It was Captain Kirko Grimm, a young officer he''d heard of in his entourage.

    "Hey! Captain Kirko!"

    Kirko looked up at Bastille''s call.

    "Get Major Garm in here now! The Warden will be back soon, and we need to get ready for the wee party, and while you''re at it, make sure you have your eyes fixed on him!"

    "Yes, I''ll get him right away!"

    Kirko nodded, knowing it was right.

    It was just as well, since Garm had suddenly given her an order to go to the 5th floor and she was looking for an excuse to fulfill it.

    She quickly broke away from the entrance and ran downstairs.

    The road to the 5th floor. She had to pass through several corridors and bridges to get to the gulper eel kennel that Garm had told her about.

    TICK-TICK-TICK

    A dripping corridor.

    As she passed through the empty corridors and over the arched bridge connecting spire to spire, she saw familiar faces.

    She recognized them from her days as a junior guard.

    "Aah! Captain Kirko! Salute!"

    Oldrades saluting Kirko, who has now be their distant superior.

    Then, one of the guards asked Kirko.

    "Captain Kirko, are you also going to the 5th floor?"

    "Um, what do you mean?"

    "Well, Major Garm passed by here just now, too, and what did he say? He told me to hurry up and go near the kennels because I don''t have to stand guard anymore...."

    "...!"

    For a moment, Kirko''s expression hardened.

    Something had really happened.

    "Don''t take the Major''s word for it."

    With that, Kirko sprinted forward.

    The two junior guards on guard duty quickly tried to stop Kirko.

    "Now, wait a minute, Captain!"

    "From here onwards is the area where people with the rank of major can enter autonomously...!"

    But the guards didn''t finish their sentence.

    kwakwang! uleuleung-

    A ck corona rising out of the window in the distance.

    A tremendous roar and shockwave shook the entire 5th floor.

 Chapter 406: Jailbreaker (6)

    <h4>Chapter 406: Jailbreaker (6)</h4>

    ...Boom!

    The tripleyered steel door has been smashed to pieces.

    All that remained was a grid-like wire mesh made of BDISSEM.

    On the other side of the grid, on the bed, Brigadier General BDISSEM sat up with a shocked expression on her face.

    "What is it? What is themotion?"

    She had the appearance of a young girl, her body fully recovered from the earlier incident.

    BDISSEM frowned at Vikir as he strode in through the shattered doorway.

    Her gaze lingered on the rank patch on Vikir''s uniform chest patch.

    "What the hell, where does a Major get the nerve toe into my room like this, are you insane?"

    But when Vikir took off his hat, revealing his bare face, BDISSEM''s expression turned white.

    ...peong!

    The mattress of the bed exploded.

    She iled as if in a fit and soon jumped up on the bed.

    "You, you bastard! Didn''t you escape?"

    But that''s just wishful thinking on her part.

    It was just an excuse made up without properly checking to avoid being reprimanded.

    Her mind shed back to her conversation with D''Ordume.

    ''Where did the prisoner go?''

    ''He''s dead!''

    ''...Dead? Then where''s the body?''

    ''...He went out to sea in an gulper eel.''

    ''Then he''s not dead.''

    ''He didn''t seem to have a clue about the cirction currents that lead to the surface, so he was bound to get caught in a trap current, and he''d be stuck in the deep for the rest of his life.''

    ''...Did it happen? It definitely sounds like you didn''t see it.''

    ''Yes, yes, yes, yes, I saw him ride an gulper eel out of the hole in the wall before I passed out!''

    ''...You''re sure you saw thest of him, aren''t you?''

    ''No, that''s right, who do you think I am, and don''t you dare look at me like that when it''s none of my business...!''

    Of course, BDISSEM never saw what happened to Vikir in the end, because she passed out.

    ...This was the result.

    The cold sweat that had gathered under her chin was dripping down like small raindrops.

    Her eyes and eyebrows drooped downward, her focus dazedly unfocused and unsteady.

    BDISSEM shuddered and shook as if she were an Aspen-type Ent.

    "Well, well, well, whatever it is, you''re finished, and I''m calling for D''Ordume and Souare right now!"

    It seemed like she was trying to buy time by hiding behind the BDISSEM wire fence she had made.

    But.

    udeudeug!

    With a simple touch of his hand, Vikir snapped the BDISSEM wire with a snap.

    Psssssss...

    The stem of the dead and dying nt crumbled like a burnt matchstick.

    The stem of BDISSEM dried up where Vikir touched it, a hole in the wire mesh just big enough for one person to fit through.

    jeobeog- jeobeog- jeobeog-

    Vikir stumbled through the gaping hole.

    "Uh... uuuuhhhhhh...."

    BDISSEM clung to the back of the bed as the horrors of the past returned.

    The hound stalked toward her, red eyes glowing in the darkness.

    "Stretch your neck."

    It was time for the death sentence to be carried out.

    But BDISSEM does not ept her fate as an innocent bystander easily.

    "Hey! Even if it''s like this, I''m also the 5 Warden! As long as I don''t let my guard down, I won''t get caught!"

    Giant kelp leaves grew up around her.

    Each one was a seaweed whip with a powerful binding force.

    chlg!

    In a few short moments, the kelp leaves formed a dense forest of seaweed and began to wrap around Vikir.

    "No use."

    Vikir swung Beelzebub and cut off all the kelp leaves.

    But BDISSEM didn''t attack Vikir.

    It simply glided across the floor, using the seaweed leaves as a surfboard.

    "Hohohoho �C no one can catch me if I run away with it!"

    BDISSEM shouted confidently.

    But Vikir didn''t react much to her words.

    He just quietly asked a question.

    "...No one?"

    And as soon as the words were finished, something wrapped around BDISSEM''s body as it slipped through the torn door.

    syulolololog-

    It was a vine of nts.

    "...?"

    BDISSEM looked dazed as she hung upside down in the air.

    kkudeudeug- kkudeodeog- basasag-

    The slippery kelp leaves she was riding on dried up in an instant.

    seumeolseumeolseumeolseumeolseumeolseumeolseumeol...

    The roots of a nt she''d never seen before began to grow out of the tiny kelp kes and onto the board.

    <Daylily of the Blood Tree>

    Danger Rating: S

    Size: ?

    Found in: Deep in the pr hell, ''Inessible Zone (Blood Swamp, Flesh-sttered Zone of Area 4)''

    -Also known as ''Blood Swamp Daylily'' or ''Blood Swamp Nightmare''

    A mysterious nt that floats on the churning waters of the Bloodswamp, at the mouth of the ''Lake of Blood'' in the depths of Hell.

    Even in the blood swamp, where everything sinks because there is no buoyancy, you can somehow see them floating.

    It is the strongest and most fearsome of all the flora and fauna that inhabit the Blood Lake, and its insatiable appetite and gluttony are feared even by its own kind.

    It is said that a single Daylily sprouting from a single seed of this nt once grew sorge that it brought humanity to the brink of destruction.

    This nt, so bizarre that it has no ce in the human world, is called the Daylily of Blood Tree.

    The seeds that Vikir had scattered at the entrance had sucked in the dampness of the Nouvelle Vague and germinated!

    "Huh?"

    BDISSEM gasped in astonishment, gulping down the air.

    The nts of the Human World and the Demon World were in a perfect food chain.

    For the demonic beasts that have adapted to the harsh and barren environment of the Demon World, the nts of the Human World are merely fragile and defenseless prey.

    Therefore, all nts in the Human world have an instinctive fear of demonic nts.

    BDISSEM was no different.

    "Aaah... aaah...."

    BDISSEM realized with certainty the source of the unexined fear she had felt when Vikir had first demonstrated the power of Starvation Drought.

    But by the time she realized, it was toote.

    Her body was already wrapped around the daylily''s stalks, draining her of moisture at an rming rate.

    "Daylily of Blood Tree are notoriously vicious among demons, for in colonies where they grow, all other demons around them wither and die, even those in the Human World."

    Vikir looked up at BDISSEM, who had been captured by a Daylily vine.

    Even the mighty seaweed, adapted to the depths of the sea, was no match for the daylily.

    Vikir stepped in front of the hanging creature.

    ...Thwack!

    A vicious grip pressed down hard on both of her cheeks.

    "Uuh! Uub!"

    As the insides of the cheeks dug into his upper and lower teeth, BDISSEM was forced to open her mouth.

    At that point, Vikir ced something in her mouth.

    "Now, if you don''t do as I say, I''m going to stick this in your mouth."

    "Hm, hmph!"

    BDISSEM was stunned.

    A shadowy figure loomed before her eyes: a handful of seeds.

    walgeg-

    Daylily of Blood Tree. Countless seeds that had yet to germinate.

    If all of them made it into BDISSEM''s mouth and traveled straight to her stomach, it was obvious what would happen next.

    "Uu... Uuuuuuuu...."

    Tears of terror welled up in BDISSEM''s eyes as she imagined the horrifying scenario.

    "Please, please let m...."

    BDISSEM''s face was covered in tears and she was smearing her lips.

    When Vikir loosened his grip slightly, she could hear her words clearly.

    "Please let me live... I''ll do anything."

    It was all she could do to say, knowing from previous battles that she had no chance of winning.

    Vikir nodded.

    "It would be quicker to just kill you, as usual."

    "Hic!"

    BDISSEM''s face turned a deep blue.

    But Vikir moved the sword of the awl and looked the other way.

    "...But there''s one more thing I want. If you do it right, I might have a way to save your life."

    "What, what is it? What is it!"

    BDISSEM who had gone from hell to heaven in an instant, asked breathlessly.

    Vikir continued.

    "I want two things. First, its original purpose. To remove the handcuffs, shackles, and cage."

    "It''s possible! It''s possible, but... can''t you do it yourself? I saw you break them earlier."

    "Not mine, but those of every prisoner here in Nouvelle Vague."

    At those words, BDISSEM''s expression hardened.

    Now she understand.

    Why did this man not escape from prison even after being released from his restraints.

    Or why he''d turned himself in in the first ce and walked into this hellhole.

    He wasn''t trying to break his restraints, he was trying to break everyone''s restraints, the very system that controls individuals.

    Rattling...

    BDISSEM was avoiding Vikir''s gaze, desperately squinting her pupils, which were so shaky they couldn''t even focus properly.

    The giant dog. A monster with burning eyes is right in front of her.

    Clutching tightly at her life and death.

    It''s so frightening, so terrifying, that it makes her mind go nk.

    She has no idea what kind of chaos this creature is trying to unleash on Nouvelle Vague.

    It has no purpose, no meaning, nothing but sheer terror.

    "You don''t want to do it? Want to make it a little easier?"

    Vikir shoved a Daylily seed into BDISSEM''s mouth, and she struggled, making a dying sound.

    "I''ll do it, I''ll do it, I''ll do it, I''ll do it, let me do it!"

    "Good. Then second."

    Vikir whispered the next order into BDISSEM''s ear.

    "Wait outside the window of the kennel on the 5th floor, a person wille out. That person...."

    Hearing that, BDISSEM nodded frantically.

    Vikir nodded with satisfaction.

    "You know what happens if these two promises are not fulfilled?"

    "...uh, what happens?"

    "You will definitely see me again, but after that, I leave it to your imagination. hehehe...."

    Vikirughed grimly.

    He realized that this was probably the first time in his life that he had everughed out loud.

    And the effect of Vikir''sughter was profound.

    "Hiiii...."

    BidisM''s crotch turned yellow and soaked through her pants and top.

    The sight was horrifying.

    Vikir jabbed the awl into BDISSEM''s throat.

    "Now, go ahead and fulfill your first promise."

    "Ah, okay, wait."

    BDISSEM squeezed her eyes shut.

    ...Pass!

    After a few seconds, she opened them again.

    "Done."

    It was deceptively easy and quick.

    Vikir frowned.

    Was that all there was to it?

    All of the systems that had kept the Nouvelle Vague alive for so long had been wiped out?

    In such a ridiculously short amount of time?

    Are you really telling me that all of the nullifying mana and physical force cuffs, shackles, and cages are gone?

    "You''re not trying to trick me...."

    Vikir was just about to reveal a glimmer of doubt.

    ...Thud!

    The floor rumbled once more.

    A heavy shockwave that had never been experienced before. Short and thick.

    The instincts of a seasoned hound screamed out.

    ''The BDISSEM restraints are gone.''

    Vikir opened his senses and quickly scanned his surroundings.

    Indeed, all of the BDISSEM materials in the vicinity were ckened and dead.

    Even the fragments he''d slipped into his pockets just in case, and all of the BDISSEM that were a considerable distance away.

    At this rate, the handcuffs, shackles, chains, and cages that held the prisoners downstairs would surely all be dead as well.

    "It, it''s true, I''ve unlocked them, from the 1st floor to the 9th floor, believe me, please!"

    BDISSEM cries out in a pathetic voice.

    The truth of her words was being conveyed both audibly and visually.

    Vikir nodded.

    "...Yes. I guess so."

    Ordinarily, he would have preferred to cut off BDISSEM''s breathing for good, but she still had some use.

    Night Hound was done hunting, and he turned away without another word.

    The escape n had reached the halfway point.

    A massive uprising unprecedented in history.

    The copse of the Nouvelle Vague has just begun.

 Chapter 407: End game (1)

    <h4>Chapter 407: End game (1)</h4>

    Abysmal.

    It was the best word to describe the current situation in Nouvelle Vague.

    Just a few hours, minutes, or seconds ago, everything was normal.

    The guards were controlling the prisoners with their weapons, and the prisoners werenguishing under the weight of dreadful restraints that drained their mana and strength.

    Then, at a moment that no one remembers clearly, just a few seconds ago.

    Thud.

    The handcuffs, shackles, and cages that had held the prisoners'' wrists, ankles, and entire bodies were gone.

    It happened simultaneously throughout the vast Nouvelle Vague.

    "...?"

    Both the guards and the prisoners were stunned into silence.

    They had no idea what had just happened.

    Why is this happening now? Is something wrong with my eyes? Is it a small ident? Is it something that only happened to me? A small anomaly that only happened in this area?

    ... But it soon became clear that it was not.

    All the handcuffs, shackles, and cages in the entire Nouvelle Vague were gone.

    The cuffs that threatened to crush their wrists, the shackles that threatened to snap their ankles, the cages that made it impossible for them to go outside.

    All the restraints that had held them down for what seemed like eons were gone.

    It was as if all the hardships and adversity had been a dream.

    The prisoners felt mana flowing through their bodies.

    Strength returned.

    Desire and anger, long forgotten and thoroughly castrated, ignited in their hearts.

    The first to adjust to the new reality were the prisoners who were in the midst of their entrance ceremony.

    "Huh? What is this? My mana is flowing!"

    "BDISSEM''s handcuffs are off!"

    "Kiyasuuuu! I don''t know what it is, but it''s great!"

    "Die, you bastards!"

    The prisoners on the de bridge suddenly turned around and began to pounce on the guards.

    The other prisoners rose to their feet as well.

    "Aaahhhh! Kill all the guards first!"

    "Beat them to death! Kill them all!"

    "Set them on fire! Burn them all!"

    "Open the Gate of Good and Evil! Let''s get out of here!"

    "Fifth floor! There''s an gulper eel on the fifth floor! Let''s take the eels and get out!"

    They had been living like worms for so long that their freedom was short-lived, and they quickly returned to their old savagery.

    Nature never changes.

    ...Just then.

    kwakwang!

    With a tremendous crash, the prisoners at the induction hall fell to their deaths.

    ku-gugugugugu...

    In the midst of the bloody scene, in the midst of a thick cloud of sulfur, two wardens picked themselves up.

    D''Ordume. And Souare.

    They each had a prisoner lying on the ground, hands and feet covered in blood.

    Shake-

    D''Ordume said, tossing the prisoner''s body in his hands.

    "Get your heads out of your asses. This is ten thousand meters deep. You won''t make it out of here anyway. We may be outnumbered right now, but reinforcements will being from the ground soon. What will you do then?"

    He was right.

    Even if the prisoners rioted and somehow overpowered the guards, they wouldn''t be able to get out of here.

    Even if they were freed, there would be no way out of the 10,000-meter deep trench, and as soon as Brigadier General Flubber abandoned the waterproofing, the ce would be flooded.

    By this time, Souare, who was beside him, had brushed off the corpses stuck to the back of her heels.

    "Hohoho- I''ll give you a chance now. If you stand by this side and help suppress the riot, I''ll let you be a sucker shark. I''ll cut your workload and give you a reduced sentence. We''ll even make you a junior guard, of course, firste first served~."

    The momentum exuded by the two wardens was overwhelming.

    Within seconds of their appearance, they had beaten dozens of prisoners to a bloody pulp.

    Furthermore, behind their backs stood the Gate of Good and Evil, a gigantic wall that was intimidating to look at.

    Gulp.

    From among the prisoners came those who swallowed dry saliva.

    If they voluntarily submitted themselves now, their lives would be much easier in the future.

    Not only will thebor be easier, but the quality of the food will be iparably better.

    Since they won''t be able to open that Gate of Good and Evil..., wouldn''t it be better to stick to the guards'' side and help suppress it and score points?

    Everyone was thinking the same thing.

    They finally let out their pent-up anger and hatred, but there must be a heavy and harsh price to pay for the brief moment of exaltation and freedom.

    "...."

    "...."

    "...."

    As the excitement wore off, reason returned.

    The prisoners slowly began to realize the reality of their situation.

    After all, it is impossible to cross the Gate of Good and Evil.

    The prisoners at Nouvelle Vague knew this from years of experience.

    D''Ordume and Souare, seeing the momentum of the prisoners, which had been so fiery just moments before, cool down, realized that the situation might be easier to calm down than they thought.

    But.

    "The key! Here''s the key to the front door!"

    An unidentified shout came from somewhere.

    At the same time, something was flung into the middle of the battlefield.

    A sword sculpture with an impressive white lower part of the de, a ck middle part, a reddish upper part, and a spiral embossed pattern.

    ...peog!

    It flew and lodged in the high ceiling in full view of all the prisoners.

    A few knowledgeable prisoners opened their eyes wide.

    "Is that the key to the main entrance?"

    It looked like the horns of a unicorn, and it was a fragment of Orwell''s Sword of Winter!

    It was a legendary sword that only those who have attained the highest level of mastery are allowed to wield it, and it once belonged to Winston, the principal of Colosseo Academy.

    D''Ordume and Souare''s eyes widened at the sight of it.

    " ... a key!?"

    "It''s the key to the Gate of Good and Evil! Why is it here...!?"

    A long time ago, Winston, the principal of Colosseo Academy, and Orca, the warden of Nouvelle Vague, worked together to capture a prisoner.

    Tomemorate that imprisonment, they gave each other two keys, one for the ocean floor and one for the surface, but why is one of them here now?

    "Who put the key in here!"

    Souare scanned the area with sharp eyes, but there was no way she could identify a single culprit in a scene that had already been torn apart by a prisoner riot.

    D''Ordume shouted at the prisoners in disbelief.

    "I don''t know why the key is here, but it doesn''t change anything, and there''s no way you can get out of here once you''ve unlocked the Gate of Good and Evil...!"

    But D''Ordume didn''t get to finish his sentence.

    Waaaaaaaah!

    A huge roar rushed in, drowning out D''Ordume''s voice.

    Things don''t always work out so calmly and rationally.

    The prisoners'' eyes, which had paused for a moment at the confirmation of the key''s existence, flipped once more.

    Collective madness. As long as it has an excuse to ignite, it explodes regardless of whether it is valid or not, whether small orrge.

    "It''s the key, it''s the key!"

    "That will open the Gate of Good and Evil!"

    "Aaaahhhhhh! That thing will take us to the surface!"

    "If you have the key, that''s it! Kill them all!"

    They were now attaching sanctity to a tool called a ''key''.

    D''Ordume said in disbelief.

    "Hey! Wake up! That key is only half a key! And opening the Gate of Good and Evil will only let the water rush in! Usemon sense! What do you think you''re capable of in these deep seas...!"

    "Hey, hey, man. Stop it, do you think they have the intelligence to think of that shit?"

    Souare stepped forward in annoyance.

    She kicked one of the charging Level 1 prisoners to death with her heel, then pulled out the sledgehammer on her back.

    ...BANG!

    Arge prisoner who had been charging like a wild boar lost his head to Souare''s sledgehammer.

    The battle had begun.

    The elite guards who had gathered to control the news of the incidentunched a merciless killing spree.

    "No need to look the other way!"

    "Kill them outright!"

    "They are the ones who couldn''t even eat a bowl of blood porridge anyway!"

    The prisoners who hade up from the lower floors, even if they had regained their strength, their bodies were still weakened by the harshbor and poor food.

    No matter how crazy and outnumbered they were, they couldn''t pull off a coup once the guards regained their senses.

    Moreover, the presence of the two wardens, rampaging like wagons in front of a line of elite guards, was overwhelming.

    kuleuleuleuleuleug! kwakwakwakwakwang!

    The axe des on D''Ordume''s forearms created a vortex of aura that minced nearby prisoners like fish meat.

    kkulleong... kkuleuleuleug... bugeulbugeulbugeul-

    The ground beneath Souare''s feet melted away, and soon became a boilingva that engulfed the prisoners around her.

    Starting from the two who stood at the forefront of the guard camp, numerous prisoners were being torn apart.

    Even thergest of men were crushed, and those who moved the fastest were caught and killed.

    The two Colonels, intent on bing the next head warden of Nouvelle Vague, were turning everything in their path to pulp.

    One against a hundred. A thousand at a time. Ten Thousand Enemies

    A long trail of killing centered on where D''Ordume and Souare stood.

    A bloodbath.

    No prisoner had ever crossed it before.

    Naturally, the morale of the guards behind the two wardens was high.

    "It''s the Colonels!"

    "The symbol of the Nouvelle Vague! The backbone of the fighting force!"

    "They really are heroes, fighting for the position of next head warden!"

    "We can do it, all the prisoners are wee toe as many times as they want!"

    The guards who were holding the induction ceremony, or who had almost suppressed the prisoners'' coup from the lower floors, were cheering with a hundred times of courage.

    ...However.

    From far below came the voice of a terrified guard.

    "Le, Level 9! Level 9, the prisoners from the 9th floor areing up, ahhhhhhh!"

    It was a report that brought a chill to the already heated atmosphere of the guards'' camp.

 Chapter 408: End game (2)

    <h4>Chapter 408: End game (2)</h4>

    Level 9. The prisoners imprisoned in the abyss of the 9th floor underground have been released.

    When the BDISSEM restraints, the only means of controlling Level 9 beings, lost their power, they too ascended to the upper levels of Nouvelle Vague.

    Each and every one of them was imprisoned here after serving more than a thousand consecutive life sentences while onnd.

    They are monsters whose very existence is a threat to the security of the Empire.

    Not only do they possess great strength, but they also have diabolical brains.

    When the prisoners of Level 9 joined the riot, the tide quickly turned.

    "These guys are too strong!"

    "Even the other prisoners are affected!"

    "Damn it, those scums are in formation!"

    "Don''t get pushed back! If you get pushed back even once, it''s over!"

    "Focus on killing summoners and ck mages!"

    The guards gritted their teeth and fought back, but it was impossible to even hold their positions.

    Aside from being strong, Level 9 also included many who were skilled in mercenary arts and military tactics, so the guards'' siege was crumbling in real time.

    Lt. Colonel Bastille shouted.

    "Orca-nim! Where is Orca-nim!"

    "He hasn''t returned yet!"

    At his subordinate''s report, Lt. Colonel Bastille bit his lip so hard it bled.

    His only hope at this point was with the two wardens, Colonel D''Ordume and Colonel Souare.

    Kwagigik-

    D''Ordume, who had just killed a prisoner in front of him with the de of his axe, strode forward, tearing up the battlefield.

    "Don''t be intimidated, they''re nothing more than a bunch of weak and decaying cronies...!?"

    But D''Ordume''s words did not reach the end.

    ...teog!

    The axe de that was ughtering and crushing everything around it stopped spinning.

    The face of the prisoner was visible, holding the scorching de with his bare hands.

    Seeing that face, D''Ordume also groaned softly.

    "...Megidio. Level 9."

    The red-haired female prisoner smirked, fire zing from her eyes.

    As if she owed D''Ordume a favor.

    kwaang- hududug-

    D''Ordume''s face jerked to the side from the punch, spraying blood.

    "Damn it. The troublesome bitches have escaped. What the hell happened to BDISSEM...!"

    Taking a few steps backward, D''Ordume spat out a mouthful of blood and broken teeth and snarled.

    Souare, watching from the side, clicked her tongue.

    "You''re getting your ass kicked by a prisoner, you suck."

    But she couldn''t bring herself tough at D''Ordume.

    A girl with snow-white skin raised her fingernails and scratched at her cheeks fiercely.

    "Oh, my- it''s Snow White of the Killing n, yes, I knew you''d be the first to jump out. Of course, you''d be the first toe for me."

    Souare lifted her bloodied face and gave a slowugh.

    A thick cigar burned brightly in her mouth, puffing out a thick cloud of smoke.

    One by one, the prisoners of Level 9 gathered around the two wardens.

    Each one was a viin who had gained a fearsome notoriety during their time onnd.

    Monsters who could have single-handedly destroyed a small country during the Warring States Period.

    D''Ordume and Souare''s expressions grew more and more grim as they watched the scene unfold.

    They stood with their backs to each other in the center of the encirclement and opened their mouths.

    "...This is where I''m going to die."

    "It''s not too bad. Nice weather. If only I could leave a nice corpse, and I did shave today."

    "Still, I''ll dieter than you. I''d like to see your ugly face crushed."

    "Hohoho �C a moodless man. After nearly 30 years of fighting back and forth since we were junior guards as youths, this is thest thing you say to each other?"

    "Hmph, did you expect a confession then?"

    "I might have expected a little?"

    "...?"

    "Hohoho- joke~"

    After finishing their conversation, D''Ordume and Souare summoned all their strength.

    udeudeug! udeudeug! udeug!

    D''Ordume''s entire body was covered in dark iron scales.

    de-like teeth hang beneath the elongated snout.

    D''Ordume''s alreadyrge size increases several times over, revealing his true form as a fierce saltwater crocodile.

    Suoare, too, manifests both dwarven and elven blood coursing through her veins.

    Her ears pricked up and her senses sharpened.

    At the same time, her body temperature began to rise to a temperature that could melt metal.

    Level 9''s demons began to flee like fish out of water.

    "Oooh, D''Ordume, I''ve been waiting for this day to kill you!"

    "Souare, I will cut off your legs for trampling on me!"

    "Orca! Bring me Orca, you rascals!"

    The guards desperately covered D''Ordume and Souare, the key to winning or losing the battle.

    "Support our two wardens!"

    Lieutenant Colonel Bastille led the senior guards forward.

    He wielded arge two-handed greatsword and herded the Level 9 prisoners into a circle.

    "Well done, Bastille! Buy us a little time!"

    D''Ordume eximed through gritted teeth, having just decapitated a prisoner from Level 9.

    Covered in prisoners'' blood, he was like one giant demon.

    kwakwakwakwakwakwang!

    D''Ordume swung his tail, and the stctites around him shattered.

    Heavy chunks of stone flew in all directions, mming into the prisoners.

    "Ooooooooh!"

    D''Ordume extended the axe des on his forearms to their limits.

    A ck saltwater crocodile whose entire body is armed with an ax de.

    The hard, razor-sharp scales that covered its entire body tightened, transforming its appearance into something like an Evil God that had descended to earth to kill.

    "Die, scum!"

    With a thunderous roar, D''Ordume began to spin.

    Death Roll.

    A crocodile''s signature hunting move.

    A technique that involves biting down on an opponent and rotating their entire body to tear off chunks of flesh.

    But when it was used by D''Ordume, its destructive power was extraordinary.

    kwa-kwakwakwakwakwakwakwang!

    Scales sprouted from D''Ordume''s entire body, along with six massive pairs of axe des.

    The aura that coated the tips of those des also elongated, forming a guillotine-like shape.

    A ck vortex engulfed everything.

    Everything sucked in was shattered and crushed.

    The huge shing whirlwindy horizontally and swept the ground, swaying back and forth like a snake thrown onto a grill.

    A ncing blow would dismember them, and a solid hit would kill them.

    "Aaaahhhhh! Colonel D''Ordume has used a Death Roll!"

    "Dodge! He can''t even recognize his allies in that state!"

    "Push the prisoners in! Just hold the line!"

    "Stay in position and you won''t be dragged!"

    D''Ordume''s special move was a threat not only to the prisoners, but also to the guards.

    Even the vicious Level 9 prisoners ducked to the side to avoid the whirlwind of strikes that D''Ordume unleashed.

    kwa-deudeudeudeudeug!

    The ck vortex shears away and crushes any stctites or boulders that stand in its way, turning them into a t surface.

    The stctites that took the brunt of the aura storm are shattered and turned to sand, and therge, chunky boulders have gaping gouges in their sides.

    All the prisoners stepped back and sideways at the sheer power of the blow, which altered the interior terrain so drastically.

    ...But.

    Among the prisoners stampeding on both sides, there was a person standing still and alone.

    A man in a tattered guard''s uniform.

    A silver Rose of Sharon, symbolizing Major, can be seen pinned to his chest.

    The unidentified Major wears his hat brim deeply pressed down.

    He stood still, unmoved by the Death Roll of D''Ordumeing straight at him.

    "Hey! Are you out of your mind! Major, what the hell are you doing, get out of here!"

    "Haha! You''re killing your own guards, D''Ordume!"

    The shouts of prisoners and guards rained down on him from the ebbing crowd.

    But he stood still, his eyes fixed on the storm of charges that was closing in on him.

    ttang-geng-

    Eventually, a silver Rose of Sharon flower fell off and rolled on the floor.

    He was about to rip off his chestte.

    ...Screech!

    From top to bottom. He brought his arm down vertically.

    kwa-kwang!

    An arm that had only moved once. And a small de sprouted from his wrist.

    But it came down like a bolt of lightning, slicing through the body of D''Ordume, who had been flying straight at it.

    ujijijig!

    D''Ordume''s head, which had smashed into the ground, bounced off the ground once more.

    Kung...

    That was the end.

    A single strike. With a single swipe, D''Ordumey on the ground, covered in blood.

    A moment of silence descended upon the abysmal Nouvelle Vague.

    ppodeug- ppodeug- ppodeug-

    Amidst the eerily cold and eerie silence, the only sound that could be heard was the sound of the man wiping the blood from his sword with thepel of his uniform.

    Overwhelming.

    The aura emanating from him seemed to consume everything on the battlefield.

    Every living thing in Nouvelle Vague held its breath in horror at the sight of this crimson charisma, shaped like arge, monstrous dog.

    With that, the man stepped forward with a military booted step and stomped on the head of the defeated D''Ordume.

    " ...I''m the kind of person who makes sure I pay my debts."

    And with that, Night Hound was once again in Nouvelle Vague.

 Chapter 409: End game (3)

    <h4>Chapter 409: End game (3)</h4>

    Rumbling...

    A heavy aftermath shook the entire cavity.

    The giant crocodile''s body sank to the ground.

    ...And all in one blow!

    Colonel D''Ordume. A candidate to be the next head of the prison.

    One of Nouvelle Vague''s top five wardens, and the one who was in charge of the actual force, had been knocked out so quickly.

    Everyone froze, mouths agape, in shock at what had happened.

    ....

    Prisoners and guards alike fell silent, a brief pause in the chaos of the battlefield.

    Especially Lt. Colonel Bastille, D''Ordume''s direct line, who was so stunned that he thought his heart might leap out of his throat.

    "Co, Co, Colonel D''Ordume?"

    But D''Ordume, head down on the ground, was speechless.

    Judging by the long tongue hanging out of his ear over the corner of the pit, he was either stunned or dead.

    ...The watching guards could only hope it was not thetter.

    Meanwhile.

    Vikir removed his hat, revealing his face to Nouvelle Vague once more.

    "Good evening,dies and gentlemen of the Nouvelle Vague."

    It was the reappearance of Night Hound, who was officially supposed to have escaped and met a miserable end in the middle of the sea.

    In the hands of this brilliant escapee was the key to the "Gate of Good and Evil" the symbol of Nouvelle Vague, the Sword of Winter, Orwell.

    It was now clear who had been responsible for the chaos at the entrance earlier.

    Upon seeing it, Lt. Colonel Bastille''s face was once again colored with astonishment.

    "What the hell is that thing doing there, surely it belongs to Sir Winston, the principal of Colosseo Academy?"

    It was even more shocking that Orwell, the Sword of Winter, was here than that Night Hound, who had escaped and was thought to be dead, was alive.

    But no matter how many questions he asked, Vikir didn''t answer them.

    Then.

    Swoosh.

    Beyond the mes and vapor, huge shadows loomed.

    Prisoners from Level 9 and Level 8 had somehow found their way to Vikir''s side.

    "Too bad. D''Ordume was my prey."

    "Kid, you''re a bit of a fighter. What''s with the guard uniform?"

    "Do you know anything about Orca, and when the old man ising?"

    "I can knock D''Ordume down with one blow, if I eat well enough...."

    Prisoners of all shapes and sizes surrounded Vikir.

    Their eyes were all fixed on the key in Vikir''s hand.

    Vikir spoke briefly.

    "My friends. I have no intention of monopolizing this key."

    If he did, he wouldn''t have thrown it in the middle of this mess earlier.

    Once more, Vikir tossed the key into the distance.

    It flew off in a parabolic arc andnded right in the center of where the prisoners and guards were standing.

    Vikir had no intention of picking it up again.

    It had served its purpose by drawing attention to itself twice in this desperate situation.

    "Oooh! It''s a real key!"

    "Open the Gate of Good and Evil!"

    "Let''s go out of this nostalgd!"

    "Wait, aren''t we supposed to steal the gulper eel first?"

    The prisoners scrambled to pick up the key.

    Vikir watched and knew it was time to slip away.

    As they all looked up, Night Hound was staring down into the depths.

    ''...Now is the time to go to Level Ten.''

    There, surrounded by blueva,id the sphere that would be humanity''s final weapon, Poseidon.

    While everyone''s eyes were on the Gate of Good and Evil on the first floor, those with brains are eyeing the Gulper Eel Kennel on the 5th floor, and the all-seeing Regressor has his sights set on Poseidon on the 10th floor.

    Vikir threw the key away, turned and ran away.

    The eyes of prisoners as well as the guards'' were turned to the Gate of Good and Evil and its key.

    It was clear that there would be a shower of blood where the key fell.

    ''... I am d I brought the key. Nothing''s better than a distraction.''

    For guards, as well as prisoners, there was nothing more intriguing than the key of a prison lock.

    Vikir remembered the face of Professor Sady, who had briefly held his hand when he had confronted Winston at the Academy.

    After all, it was her taking away Winston''s sword, Orwell, that had made this operation possible, so it would be nice to say hello if they ever met.

    ''...If she''s alive.''

    The woman who used to go by the name Miss Uroboros hadpletely disappeared after the events of Winston and the Fallen, and her whereabouts were unknown.

    But the words Sady had spoken to him as she handed him the Sword of Winter Orwell were still fresh in his mind.

    ''Hand it over.''

    ''Yes, I''ll give it to you �C I''m sure I''ll need the key to the front gate, but... there''s another way.''

    ''....''

    ''Can you promise me one more thing in return, though?...If there''s ever a chance, please take it out with you.''

    ''... Okay. If you get a chance.''

    ''That would be great.''

    Vikir needed to go to Level 10 once more, if only to fulfill his promise to Sady.

    Her request was one that could be granted while Poseidon was up and active.

    Vikir sprinted down the slope, feeling all eyes on him.

    And then.

    ...Pow!

    A sharp rock protruded from the wall and grazed Vikir''s cheek.

    "...!"

    Vikir threw his head back to dodge.

    If he hadn''t, the momentum of his run could have exploded his head with that one hit.

    As Vikir turned his head, he saw the creature that had moved the boulder standing in front of him.

    ... There was just one person. One who hadn''t been distracted by the keys.

    Colonel Souare. One of the two colonels who represent the twin walls of the Nouvelle Vague

    She stood blocking the entrance to the stairs leading downstairs, shooting Vikir a cold stare.

    Souare nced back and forth between Vikir and D''Ordume lying behind him.

    "You''re the one I put in solitary confinement, If you think about it that way, don''t you owe me something?"

    "Ah, I see. Would you like me to repay you?"

    "When you are capable."

    Souare tilted her head, and Vikir nodded approvingly.

    "Of course."

    At the same time, Souare''s sledgehammer and Vikir''s sword shed.

    ...Boom!

    A heavy shockwave stretched out like countless snakes spreading out.

    mes, oil slicks, gas, and dirt swirled around, creating a terrifying sight.

    kwakwang! kkaang- ttang! ujijig! kkang- kwakwakwang! kkadeudeudeug!

    The magic sword Beelzebub and the heavy sledgehammer were exchanging blows at an rming rate.

    Souare was pushing hard enough to make the hammer glow red, but she couldn''t avoid being pushed backwards.

    ''What kind of strength...!''

    She could see why D''Ordume had been destroyed by the blow.

    Her opponent was a seasoned warrior who had strength for strength, speed for speed, and nothing was missing.

    Souare realized that she wasn''t going to win in a head-to-head fight, so she drew back.

    peopeopeopeopeong!

    A wave ofva rose up from where she''d stomped and mmed into Vikir.

    Vikir shed at theva, but it quickly hardened and turned to dust.

    It was followed by a second and third wave of rocks.

    "...That''s a troublesome pattern."

    This wasn''t an attack designed to hurt Vikir, but to waste time.

    Souare sensed that Vikir was trying to make his way downstairs after wreaking havoc with some sort of purpose.

    "I don''t know what you''re after, but give it up, I''m good at defense."

    Souare smirked and blew out a puff of cigarette smoke.

    Each of Nouvelle Vague''s twin walls had its own specialty.

    D''Odume for offense, Souare for defense.

    D''Ordume specialized in frenzied, sweeping attacks, while Souare drew in the surrounding rocks and minerals to create a shield that stacked infinitely.

    The personalities of these two were very clear and distinct.

    Vikir furrowed his brow as he watched Souare''s shield ofyered rocks and alloys.

    ''Thepatibility isn''t very good?''

    After all, Souare was one of the formidable foes he needed to defeat here.

    It seemed that the time he''d gained by using all his strength to neutralize D''Ordume would be wasted.

    ''It can''t be helped. I''ll lose a lot of time, but I have to be sure to step on it....'' was thinking Vikir to himself.

    kwa-kwang!

    A loud explosion erupted from the front.

    It was a shockwave so powerful that the lowly guards standing around burst their eardrums and spurted blood.

    "Huh!"

    Souare''s head whipped around as if it was being ripped from between her shoulders.

    She was thrown out into a trajectory that ttened her to the ground and mmed her into the wall, where she promptly cked out.

    She had the same ending as D''Ordume.

    "...?"

    Vikir looked up from the dense dust.

    A slender shadow stood over Souare''s face.

    There was a murmur of voices around him.

    "Hic! Hey, it''s the newest prisoner!"

    "Is it that bitch? the one who was supposed to be admitted to Level 10?"

    "She came straight in without a trial, and I can''t believe she sent Souare away in one fell swoop."

    "Another monster, I see."

    Vikir''s mind raced with information that he had previously passed over without much thought.

    ''Oh, and did you hear, there''s a new oneing in, sentenced to Level 9 without a trial, and she''s a girl. They even said she was pretty.''

    ''Are you out of your mind? She would be a monster of monsters if she were to be thrown straight into Level 9 without a trial and that''s if she''s a woman.''

    The newest prisoner to arrive was the one who made the most noise.

    ck hair mixed with silver, triangr pointed ears, and an ashen face.

    Big, clear eyes like ake in bitter eyes.

    She looked up at Vikir and smiled.

    "Long time no see, Husby."

    A new Night Fox had taken over from Aqu, the Night Fox.

    It was Aiyen.

 Chapter 410: End game (4)

    <h4>Chapter 410: End game (4)</h4>

    Bk.

    A warrior tribe of the Red and ck Mountains.

    Along with Ironblooded Swordsman Baskerville, they wielded great influence throughout the Western Continent.

    Aiyen is the chieftain of the Bk and a warrior unrivaled among her people.

    The daughter of Chieftain Aqu and the young blood who seeded her, she possessed the talents and qualities to be a Graduator at just 17 years of age.

    Ordinarily, she would have been gone when the Red Death swept through the jungle, but the butterfly effect created by Vikir changed the future.

    ''... But even so, I never thought I''d see you here again.''

    Vikir''s mouth was half open at the unexpected oue.

    Then Aiyen smirked and nudged Vikir in the side with an elbow.

    "I knew you''d be here."

    "...."

    "Though I didn''t realize you were still wearing the leash."

    She smiled wickedly at the worn choker around Vikir''s neck.

    Meanwhile, Bikir looked back at Souare, who was rolling to the ground in a heap of rocks.

    Surely it was Aiyen who had kicked Souare in the head just a moment ago.

    "What happened?"

    "What, are you asking why I''m here, or how did I get so strong in such a short time?"

    "... Both."

    Aiyen pointed a thumb behind him as Vikir asked.

    "We can talk about the details as we go, aren''t we in a hurry?"

    "...."

    Aiyen was right.

    Vikir quickly assessed the situation and left.

    Aiyen knocked out two guards who stood in their way and took their bows and arrows from them.

    Then she followed Vikir and spoke in a low voice.

    "I, too, have been in the Hell Tree."

    "...!"

    Vikir remembered when he had fought Amdusias so many years ago.

    The tips of Amdusias''s horns bore the unmistakable marks of arrows.

    And Ahul, whom he had met in the Hell Tree, had said the same thing.

    ''I''m worried about what happened to the other tribe members. Especially my brother and the tribal leader... We were able to survive at least by falling here. if... If those who couldn''te here suffered even more misery... ... ''

    Amdusias, the Worldview Absorber, raided the Bk''s territory and imprisoned them in the Hell Tree.

    Did that mean that Aiyen was in the same Abyss Tower that Vikir had entered?

    But Aiyen shook her head.

    "The Hell Tree I was in was a different entity. He called it a ''prototype''."

    Vikir knew immediately what that meant.

    Vikir''s Hell Tree was a modified version of the one that made survival a little easier for the challengers in the Tower.

    Aiyen, however, had entered an earlier version of the Hell Tree.

    Into an object that was discarded because its survival rate was too low for those who attempted it, and alone!

    "I survived in there by killing fairies and demons and eating candy. Perhaps because it was an object with many errors, clearing it was impossible, they said I would just have to stay trapped in that tower forever. That''s what the Demonic Dragon I defeated on the top floor said."

    Vikir looked genuinely surprised.

    Even if it was a different version of the Hell Tree, a Demonic Dragon was usually a strong demon.

    After challenging the tower several times, Aiyen seeded in hunting down such a Demonic Dragon.

    "There''s a reason why you became aeback champion when I wasn''t looking."

    "Hehehe-but I was only able to get out of the tower because my Husby defeated Amdusias in the end."

    Frustrated that no matter how many times she cleared the tower, she couldn''t get out, Aiyen suddenly realized that she could get out of the tower.

    Onlyter did she realize that it was because Vikir had cleared the Hell Tree in the Imperial Academy and defeated the tower''s master, Amdusias.

    "After that, I left the Western Continent and traveled to the Central Continent. However, I found that the ce had already been wiped out?"

    Aiyen''s testimony is remarkable.

    One day, countless gates suddenly appeared in the night sky, pouring out fire and demons.

    Demons rampaged everywhere, and fire rained down.

    The Gate of Hell had opened.

    There were four ominous signs that the end of the world was approaching.

    "...Wait a minute. Four things, not 10?"

    Vikir asked, and Aiyen nodded.

    "Endless darkness, hailstorms of fire, swarms of flies and frogs. Four things, right?"

    "...Hmm. I see I''ve eliminated six of the ten, so the number of gues is down to four."

    Vikir nodded.

    Originally, there were supposed to be six more gues on earth.

    The waters turning to blood, the herds boiling over, the livestock and animals being ughtered, the locust storms drying up all the food, the first born dying that year.

    But all these things did not happen.

    Vikir had already removed the causes of these disasters.

    ''But the four remaining Ten Corpses are enough to destroy the world.''

    It''s just a matter of time. It would take a little longer for the world to bepletely destroyed, but the four great demons were steadily bringing destruction to earth.

    Even at this very moment.

    ''Perhaps soon, the Gates of Destruction will be fully opened. Before that happens, I must eliminate them once and for all....''

    As if reading Vikir''s thoughts, Aiyen spoke in an angry voice.

    "So, as soon as I went to the Imperial Capital, I went to see Cindy Wendy."

    "...!"

    Vikir''s eyes lit up.

    Cindy Wendy was one of Vikir''s henchmen, someone he could trust no matter what.

    Vikir had given her a number of instructions before entering the Nouvelle Vague, and if Aiyen met her, things would go smoothly.

    "Cindy Wendy was trusted because she had traded with Bk for so long. That''s where I heard the story of my Husby. That she was falsely used and imprisoned."

    "Not falsely used, but, well, go on."

    "So I thought I''d take care of the things you left unfinished."

    Aiyen''s eyes glowed with a searing light.

    "Pedro of Don Quixote, Isolde of Usher, and Thomas of Leviathan. And their masters, Pasamonte of Don Quixote, Madeline of Usher, and Hobbes of Leviathan. I tried to assassinate them all."

    Listening to her, Vikir understood what had been written in the newspaper clippings he had once obtained from a prisoner.

    [Inside...] ... pce guard, raiding...

    -The Usher family... a mysterious attack... heavy damage... authorities have identified one suspect... the victim, Madeline... seriously injured, but not life-threatening...

    The [sole] victim of a series of attacks on...

    -Don Quixote Family... another mystery... attack... Count Pasamonte... minor injuries... authorities have identified one suspect... believed to be the same...

    [Exclusive] Suspected assassin arrested...

    -Leviathan Family... Attack on Patriarch Hobbs... med on the recent surge in demonic activity... Mysterious gates and strange dungeons popping up all over the Leviathan Family estate... An empire-wide investigation has beenunched... The Night Hounds... A suspicious organization... A citywide scare...

    The Ushers, Don Quixote, and the Leviathans have been attacked, and there is only one man left standing.

    And that was Aiyen.

    "You could have just waited to meet me. I was nning to get out of here soon anyway."

    "That''s what I was counting on. There''s no better wee home gift than an enemy''s head or raw liver. I am also a woman with a mood."

    "...."

    Aiyen seemed genuinely depressed that she hadn''t been able to rip the heads off the rest of the Ten Corpses.

    Vikirforted her.

    "You were brave to go in alone, that''s all that matters."

    "It is. It''s nothingpared to the Demonic Dragon I fought in the Hell Tree, or the entire daylily colony in the River of Flow."

    "So what happened?"

    "Well. I failed, to put it mildly. I tried to march into Leviathan Family and rip out patriarch''s head... but he was much stronger than I expected, so I was captured and brought down here to Nouvelle Vague."

    "I see. His name is uros. A demon with great power, you probably wouldn''t have been able to do it alone. Didn''t Cindy Wendy stop you?"

    "She didn''t. I wasn''t alone."

    "...?"

    The words left out a lot, but it was clear how much Aiyen must have prepared, how much she must have thought about, in order to get her revenge.

    "Thanks."

    "Ehem. That''s all you need to know. Be good to me."

    Then.

    "Bastards!"

    Arge man stood in the way of Vikir and Aiyen.

    Lt. Colonel Bastille. He was wielding a broken greatsword, blocking their path downstairs.

    "I don''t know what you''re up to, but you''re not getting through!"

    He knew he couldn''t stop the duo that had sent D''Ordume and Souare away with just his strength.

    So Lt. Colonel Bastille mmed his greatsword down on the ground.

    kwakwang! jjeojeojeojeojeog-

    It was meant to cause an earthquake and copse the passage. Even if it meant sacrificing his own life.

    "...."

    Vikir frowned at the unexpected obstacle.

    Boulders were falling from above, and the floor was deeply cracked.

    But.

    hwiiiiiikk-

    Aiyen smiled meaningfully and whistled.

    Then something amazing happened.

    Aiyen''s hair burst into mes, and a giant wolf was summoned into a body of mes.

    Seeing the wolf''s face, Vikir cried out in delight.

    "Vakira!"

    Vakira the Wolf. The one who once had roamed the jungle with Vikir.

    Aiyenughed bitterly.

    "I''m grateful he stayed by my side after his lifespan was up. We made a contract for redemption in the Hell Tree."

    The fire wolf summoned by Aiyen immediately struck Lt. Colonel Bastille with its forepaws, sending him flying.

    peong-

    With a loud shockwave, Lieutenant Colonel Bastille''s body was sent flying into the distance.

    [Kung!]

    Vakira leaped across the crack in the floor that had opened just moments before, carrying Aiyen and Vikir on his back.

    "That''s a lot of speed."

    Vikir shuddered at Vakira''s speed.

    He hadn''t expected the creature that had lost its hind legs during Madame''s attack to be able to run this fast.

    Then, as if on cue, Aiyen asked.

    "But isn''t the 5th floor the gulper eel kennel? Why are you heading to the 10th floor instead of the 5th floor?"

    " ...that."

    Vikir whispered in Aiyen''s ear and told her what wasing next.

    "...I''m surprised. Was this all nned from the beginning, even your imprisonment here?"

    "Of course. So far, it''s going ording to n."

    Vikir nodded at Aiyen''s question.

    Indeed, so far, everything had gone well.

    D''Ordume and Souare had been knocked out, and even Lt. Colonel Bastille, who was supposed to be in charge of the guards, had fallen.

    Prisoners of all levels were on a rampage, led by a handful of extraordinary prisoners from Level 9, and the guards seemed to be getting pushed back.

    ...But life is always unpredictable. Things don''t always go as nned.

    kwang!

    A loud noise from nowhere pounded the ceiling.

    jjeojeojeojeojeojeog-

    The enormous Gate of Good and Evil suddenly began to open.

    ting- teoeong! teong! ttudug! ttududug! ppagag!

    The chains supporting the Gate snapped with a loud crash, and the massive pulleys made of cast iron were crushed by the unexined force.

    "Who, who, who opened the Gate of Good and Evil!"

    Lt. Colonel Bastille shouted in horror as he emerged from the crack in the ground, but there was no answer.

    sswaaaaaa! puswisisisisisig-

    A cold shower of water rained down from above, cooling the heated battlefield.

    All the prisoners and guards who had been fighting tooth and nail looked up in surprise.

    And there they saw only one old man.

    Opening the Gate of Good and Evil with only the strength of his arms, he slowly pushed himself into the Nouvelle Vague.

    ...Thud!

    The old man hit the ground.

    And theplexions of all the prisoners began to turn blue at the sight of the old man''s wrinkled face, his tightly pressed lips, his white, stiff beard, and his knife-like wrinkled uniform.

    The symbol of the Nouvelle Vague.

    The one who reigns in fear of all the prisoners, who holds the power over all the guards.

    The prison Warden ''Orca Montreuil-sur-Mer Javert'' fell in the middle of the battlefield.

 Chapter 411: End game (5)

    <h4>Chapter 411: End game (5)</h4>

    The deep furrows that are often engraved on the faces of veterans who have crossed all kinds of harsh lines of fire.

    Wrinkles that look like scars under the corners of the eyes, the ferociously growing sideburns, the eyebrows thick and full enough to hide their coldly sunken eyeballs, the t noses and square jaws.

    His uniform, despite its wetness, was creased like a knife, buttoned all the way up to his neck, and a ck fur coat resembling a lion''s mane covered his broad chest and broad shoulders.

    It was a perfect outfit, except for the crookedness of his belt buckle.

    He was taller than anyone else in the ce, and a club hung below his waist, with a sharp point of lead attached to the end.

    ''Orca Montreuil-sur-Mer Javert''. The head of prison at Nouvelle Vague.

    Old Man, a symbol of Nouvelle Vague for nearly one hundred years, when generations on earth have changed several times.

    chig-

    Tapping the end of his cigarette against the mes on the ground, he scanned his surroundings with a lingering gaze.

    A puff of cigarette smoke puffs out between cracked, salt-soaked lips.

    "What is this?"

    He pulled something out of his arms.

    A pocket watch, ckened and shriveled.

    Apparently, it was made of BDISSEM.

    "I had a feeling something had happened to BDISSEM. No matter what...."

    Then.

    "Ooh, Orca, I''ve lived my entire life to get revenge on you, be prepared!"

    A thunderous shout rang out from behind him.

    It was Mammatamuz the Piercing Tusk, a prisoner of Level 9.

    King of the Bandits, who once ruled an entire mountain range in his time onnd.

    A viin of a previous generation, so vicious that he had been sentenced to over 2,800 consecutive life sentences by the Nakajaniye Court.

    He rushed forward with tremendous force.

    Then he mmed his shoulder into Warden Orca''s back with such force that the Major and Lieutenant Colonel guards who stood in his way were knocked to the ground.

    peo-eong! udeudeug!

    The sound of tearing hard leather and the shattering of hard objects within echoed through the area.

    The result.

    "Kuaaaaaaghhh!?"

    It was a crushing defeat for Mammatamuz.

    Broken shoulder des ripped through the skin.

    Mammatamuz fell to the ground in a heap.

    Meanwhile, Major General Orca was still standing there, unmoving.

    And then.

    "... What the hell."

    He raised one hand high in the air.

    The gongs and spiked clubs followed Warden Orca across his arms and shed upward over his heavy bald head.

    And just like that, it struck the ground like a bolt of ck lightning.

    "What a sight!"

    A deafening crash shook the earth.

    Mammatamuz''s head exploded, and with that as its epicenter, a massive seismic wave tore and twisted the surrounding terrain apart.

    With one of Level 9''s prisoners now dead, Warden Orca''s anger was beginning to show.

    Just by furrowing his eyebrows, the air around him cracked.

    "Hehehe- It''s Orca after all, he must have a taste for hunting."

    "That old man can''t even die."

    "No, but he''s not as strong as he used to be, he''s old."

    "He is, Mammatamuz. He had a big voice, but he wasn''t really good at anything, was he?"

    The prisoners of Level 9 snickered and began to close in on the encirclement, but Warden Orca was unfazed.

    "Get lost, scum."

    At the same time, his club began to wail ferociously.

    The two white spots on the tip of the club''s ck head were swung like the head of a killer whale.

    kwakwakwakwakwakwakwang!

    Dozens of skulls exploded under the blow of the club.

    Shattered skull fragments, brain water, and droplets of blood flew everywhere.

    With a terrifying momentum, Warden Orca raised his club and began to beat the Level 9 prisoners to death.

    With one sweep of his arm, blood spattered the walls and floor, and with one movement of his body, he split the crowd in half.

    peo-eog! peo-eog! peo-eog! peo-eog! peo-eog! peo-eog! peo-eog! peo-eog!

    Even the mighty monsters of Level 9 didn''t dare to step in front of Warden Orca''s club.

    The gongs, thorns, and chains at the end of the club were soaked with human oil and blood to the point that their original colors were no longer visible.

    "That''s right. Where are D''Ordume and Souare, I thought they were here first?"

    Warden Orca asked.

    Lt. Colonel Bastille, whose face had been scratched by a wolf''s ws, bowed down and said.

    "With all due respect, ...they are copsed over there."

    At the words, Major General Orca''s thick eyebrows knit together.

    Turning his head, he saw two people lying on a slope with stairs leading down.

    D''Ordume, face down on the floor, and Souare, face down against the wall, stunned.

    Orca sighs at the sight of his two subordinates.

    "Wake up."

    However, both of the wardens turned their eyes upside down and made no movement.

    A line of blood formed on Orca''s forehead.

    "...Wake up."

    He spoke in an even quieter voice.

    But perhaps because of the different weight of energy it carried, it was more effective than his previous words.

    "Huh!?"

    "Hugh!?"

    D''Ordume and Souare snapped out of their reverie as soon as Major General Orca''s words left their mouths.

    They staggered to their feet and saluted.

    "Salute! I see you, sir."

    "Forget the salutes. Who made you look like that... No, never mind. Where did he go?"

    "He, he went downstairs!"

    Orca sighed again.

    "I''ll take care of this ce on my own. You guys should chase after him and get revenge."

    "...."

    "No one with dirty debts will be the next head of the prison. You know that, right?"

    Under Orca''s re, D''Ordume and Souare flinched.

    At the same time.

    ppa-ang!

    The backs of D''Ordume and Souare''s uniforms burst open at the same time, revealing their reddened, bare skin.

    Major General Orca pped them on the back with the palm of his hand to encourage them.

    "Make sure you pay off your debts."

    The Major General''s n was clear.

    A man who ruined the face of the wardens and the prestige of the entire Nouvelle Vague in front of everyone.

    The n was to ce all responsibility for this riot on him and execute him.

    * * *

    Nouvelle Vague Level 10. Thebor camp on the 10th floor of the underground.

    Deeper than Level 9, which was the deepest and harshest.

    Vikir made his way to the work pit, the lowest in the Level 10.

    Lava flowed, and mes in steam hung in the air.

    The hot spring water bursting out from all over the ce was bubbling and then evaporated and turned into steam before it fell to the ground.

    As if that weren''t bad enough, an unidentifiable sphere, engulfed in blue mes, lies in the center of the pit.

    Poseidon. The ultimate goal that had driven Vikir to descend to Nouvelle Vague himself.

    Aiyen asked.

    "...You mean we should destroy it?"

    "Something like that. We can shock it or infuse it with mana."

    Finished, Vikir gave the test.

    Baskerville 8th Form. ck Sun.

    Vikir unleashed the most powerful attack he could unleash on Poseidon.

    kwakwang!

    Surprisingly, Poseidon didn''t break.

    It simply absorbed all of Vikir''s mana, aura, and impact.

    He didn''t know if it was his mood, but the sphere seemed to swell a little more.

    The blue mes burning around it were also a bit more intense.

    Aiyen nodded.

    "Alright, I''ll give it a try."

    She picked up the bow and arrow she''d taken from one of the guards.

    Beside her, Vakira was preparing to shoot a me from his mouth as well.

    Then.

    "Stop, you two!"

    "What do you think you''re doing!"

    A voice interrupted Vikir and Aiyen from behind.

    D''Ordume and Souare. They hade to their senses and were following closely behind.

    Aiyen''s expression turned sour.

    "I saved your lives, and you came back without thanking me?"

    "Hohoho- I''m so proud of the fact that I barely managed to get one hit in a surprise attack from the side."

    Souare is no match for Aiyen.

    D''Ordume also red at Vikir with a tense demeanor, unlike before.

    "I didn''t realize you were so powerful that you reached the Supreme Realm."

    "...."

    "But I am not afraid. I''m not going to let my guard down and fall."

    But Vikir was calmly analyzing the situation.

    ''They''ve already lost once, and they''reing after us, and they don''t look scared. Does that mean...?''

    After finishing his thought, Vikir shouted.

    "Get back!"

    Aiyen had just stopped lunging at Souare and immediately stepped back.

    And then.

    cheolpeog! cheolpudeog!

    A blob of sticky slimended where Vikir and Aiyen had stood just moments before.

    kkulleong... kkulleong... kkulleong... kkulleong...

    A huge plume of slime began to flow in front of Vikir''s eyes.

    The translucent green slime grewrger andrger, until it began to extend numerous tentacles behind D''Ordume and Souare.

    As if to escort them.

    "...I knew it. There was a part of me that believed in it."

    Vikir swallowed hard.

    It was a hasty misjudgment to exclude it from the escape n, assuming itcked intelligence and reason.

    Brigadier General Flubber.

    A strange substance that no one can determine with certainty whether or not it is a life form, and therefore no one can estimate itsbat capabilities, had entered the fray.

 Chapter 412: End game (6)

    <h4>Chapter 412: End game (6)</h4>

    Flubber. Full name: Flubber J. Tarbond. Rank is Brigadier General.

    Responsible for coating the outside of Nouvelle Vague''s castle with a thinyer of slime to keep water out, Flubber was one of the two great mountains that support Nouvelle Vague''s system, along with BDISSEM.

    An unidentifiable substance and creature with a body made up of an enormous mass of mucus of unknown volume, a pair of eyeballs that were nothing more than hollow spheres, a mouth that was gaping open in a smiling arc, and other grotesque deformities.

    This strange entity now surrounded Vikir and Aiyen with obvious hostility.

    Vikir and Aiyen each said something.

    "Amazing, a creature capable of thinking."

    "Indeed. It looks like Shadowless King of the ck Sea."

    This was quite a surprise, as he had assumed that it would not have intelligence or reason.

    Even D''Ordume and Souare didn''t seem to be adjusting to the situation.

    "Flubber, you monster... still only moves like a sword when you think Nouvelle Vague is in danger."

    "You must be attached to this ce, that''s why you''re always sweeping, cleaning, and repairing the outer walls of the castle."

    Flubber''s motives were a little different than Vikir had expected.

    He hadn''te here to help D''Ordume and Souare, but rather had sensed something was up with Poseidon and descended.

    To prevent the destruction of Nouvelle Vague.

    No one knows why Flubber wanted to protect Nouvelle Vague.

    The only thing he could assume was that his attachment to this ce and his desire to restore it were great.

    "Hehehe... Yes, even the most iprehensible monsters have the same goal."

    "It''s creepy to work with this monster, but there''s nothing I can do about it."

    Next. D''Ordume and Souare moved under Flubber''s cover.

    kwakwakwakwang!

    Thebination of D''Ordume''s attack, Souare''s defense, and Flubber''s tentacles closing in on the entire field worked quite well.

    ujijig! peopeopeopeopeog!

    As they stepped back to avoid the sh of the ax de swung by D''Ordume, Flubber''s slime soon covered the entire ground.

    Vikir and Aiyen were forced to retreat, trudging over a limited area of ground.

    peong- ppagag!

    Aiyen fired an arrow, but Souare raised severalyers of earth shields to block it.

    And beyond it, D''Ordume''s attacks continued to fly.

    "They''ve been very annoying."

    "It''s to be expected with three of the Five Warden in one ce."

    Vikir nodded in agreement with Aiyen''s words.

    This was not a phenomenon that could be exined by the form 1+1=2.

    Thebination of D''Ordume in attack, Souare in defense, and Flubber filling in all the gaps was difficult for even Vikir to deal with.

    "...Good thing I took care of ck Tongue and BDISSEM beforehand."

    Vikir muttered to himself.

    Aiyen, who was deflecting D''Ordume''s attacks, asked in surprise.

    "I thought it was my husby that worked on BDISSEM, but ck Tongue? Is that also the warden?"

    "Yeah. I got rid of it because I thought it would get in the way of my escape, and I think it will help me now."

    Vikir slipped his hand into the leather pouch at his waist and grabbed a handful of what was inside.

    chllag-

    Soon, ck pearl-like things were scattered in the air.

    "Hmm?"

    "What?"

    D''Ordume and Souare paused for a moment.

    They were wary of these ck pearls falling down, thinking it might be explosives.

    But it was something far more troublesome than explosives.

    eujijig- eujijig- eujijig-

    The surface of the ck pearl cracked, and what was inside crawled out.

    Those are the eggs of a new type of leech that stole and killed ck Tongue!

    Vikir had deliberately cut his palm, causing blood to spurt out, and the eggs, soaked in it, had hatched as soon as they smelled the scent of blood.

    The tiny leeches began to cling to D''Ordume and Souare''s bodies.

    "Damn it! These are ck Tongue Leeches! They''re stolen!"

    "Kyaaahhh! That perverted bastard must have betrayed us!"

    D''Ordume and Souare didn''t realize that ck Tongue had betrayed them or that the leeches had been stolen, but they did not think that he had been attacked by Vikir.

    They scrabbled and scratched until their bodies bled, pulling the leeches off.

    Vikir bit his lip in disappointment.

    "I guess we''ll have to use them on people who don''t know about leeches in the future, at least not in Nouvelle Vague."

    D''Ordume and Souare were aware of ck Tongue''s perverted tastes and powers, so their wariness of leeches was at an all-time high.

    To add insult to injury, the leeches weren''t responding to Flubber at all, so the effect wasn''t as effective as hoped.

    ''But it bought us time, and that''s enough.''

    Vikir and Aiyen closed in on Poseidon, keeping their distance behind them.

    "Die!"

    D''Ordume spun the axe de on his forearm again.

    Death Roll.

    The whirlwind of strikes that had torn countless prisoners to shreds once more revealed its terrifying presence.

    Vikir and Aiyen did not meet D''Ordume''s attack head-on.

    "Do as I exined."

    "Understood!"

    Aiyen jerked backward.

    He turned and ducked behind the blue glowing Poseidon.

    Vikir, too, moved to the other side of Aiyen, using Poseidon as a shield as he guided D''Ordume''s charge.

    kwa-kwang!

    Poseidon was struck by D''Ordume''s attack.

    Theva roots nearby exploded with a loud noise, and the resulting shock wave was also absorbed by Poseidon.

    ...sh!

    The blue light emitted by the sphere became even more intense.

    The vibrations emanating from its roots also became much more intense.

    D''Ordume''s brow furrowed.

    "What is it? There is something fishy about this. They''re not fighting back, like they''re waiting for us to use our power. And that blue sphere looks even more...."

    "What are you talking about? We need to take care of this and get reinforcements upstairs, and if we don''t kill them, the Major General will kill us!"

    Souare stepped forward in frustration.

    kwakwakwakwang!

    Her sledgehammer struck the ground, sending spiky rocks flying withva.

    ujijijijijig-

    Hot volcanic bombs were scorching the area.

    And as it does, Poseidon''s light grew brighter and brighter.

    Vikir sensed Poseidon''s vibrations transmitting through the surface, gauging the umted power.

    [Human! The wave of mana is unusual! I think about half of the power has been umted?]

    Vikir was convinced when he heard Decarabia shout from his chest.

    ''...50%, that''s quite a charge, well, the years I spent here were a long time.''

    In fact, once the power was built up to 90%, it was all a matter of time.

    The explosions and aftershocks that theva roots were constantly generating would easily fill the rest.

    What would happen when it reaches 100%!

    As Vikir counted down the seconds.

    Rumbling-

    The ominous sound got closer to his ears.

    "...!"

    Vikir looks up to see Flubber smiling from ear to ear.

    The creature had traveled unnoticed by rats and birds alike on a stctite that had sprouted from the ceiling.

    "Tch!"

    Aiyen fired an arrow, but Flubber just swallowed it whole.

    As expected, it seemed to ignore any physical force.

    juleuleug- ttug- ttug- kkulleong...

    Flubber turned to the rear and slid down the stctite.

    It seemed to be enough to support D''Ordume as he bombarded from the front.

    "...This is bad. Flubber doesn''t use physical power, so it won''t help Poseidon. If anything, it''ll hinder it."

    Vikir bit his lip.

    He hadn''t expected Flubber, whom he''d written out of the n because he didn''t think it would be a factor, to be this much of a hindrance.

    If Flubber were to enter the fray, absorb the impact and swallow everything up, it would be impossible to activate Poseidon.

    However, unlike Vikir, who was feeling tense inside, Aiyen''s expression remained rxed.

    "Don''t worry, Husby. There is a part of me that believes, just as there is a part of them that believes."

    "Hmm? What does that mean...."

    Suddenly, Vikir''s mind shed back to something Aiyen had said to him before they came down here.

    ''You wouldn''t have been able to do it alone. Didn''t Cindy Wendy stop you?''

    ''She didn''t. I wasn''t alone.''

    The story of the time when Aiyen attacked Don Quixote, Usher, and Leviathan.

    At Vikir''s questioning look, Aiyen smirked.

    "I didn''te alone, either."

    At the same time.

    kwakwang-

    The stctites on the ceiling were swept away.

    Flubber''s body, which was hanging from top to bottom, was cut into pieces and burned.

    O-oooooh!

    Flubber let out a grotesque scream and retracted its tentacles.

    At the same time, a huge storm of strikes rained down on the backs of D''Ordume and Souare, who were still looking straight ahead.

    kwakwakwakwakwang!

    With a loud shockwave, D''Ordume, Souare, and Flubber were sent flying at the same time.

    The blue mes emitted by Poseidon became even stronger.

    "Ugh! Who the...!?"

    As D''Ordume and Souare looked up with bloodshot eyes, a shadowy figure was cast across the roaring mes.

    Hohohohoho-

    A muffledugh, clearly mocking D''Ordume and Souare as theyy on the ground.

    "Blinded by rage, where are you looking?"

    A whip crackled with mes.

    The person holding it tightly was wearing ck tights that covered his entire body and high heels that were over 30 centimeters high.

    "...!"

    For the first time since entering the Nouvelle Vague, Vikir''s eyes widened.

    And rightly so, for the figure that had just entered the battlefield had a face that Vikir recognized.

    Ms. Uroboros.

    Professor Sady, whom he hadn''t seen since he dropped out of Colosseo Academy, had entered the battlefield.

 Chapter 413: End game (7)

    <h4>Chapter 413: End game (7)</h4>

    kwalkwalkwalkwalkwalkwalkwalkwal...

    Water was leaking all over Nouvelle Vague.

    On the first floor, in front of the Gate of Good and Evil, the guards were putting down a prisoner riot when they realized things were getting out of hand.

    "Damn! The hole in the exterior wall is not being repaired!"

    "Where''s Brigadier General Flubber, why does the water keeping in?"

    "It''s a big problem, the copsed battlements section continues to flood!"

    "Half the inner wall is already under water, damn it!"

    The more areas Brigadier General Flubber was unable to cover, the more water rushed into the castle.

    "We''re all going to die at this rate!"

    Prisoner and guard were both terrified.

    Unlike when BDIOSSEM was gone, if Flubber was gone, the castle itself would bepletely submerged under 10,000 meters of water.

    There was no doubt that all life would be exterminated.

    "Now is not the time to fight among ourselves!"

    "Uh, what should we do? Should we stop the water first?"

    "Run! We have to run!"

    "To where? We''re ten thousand meters below the surface anyway, it''s the same no matter where we go!"

    The prisoners and guards stopped fighting and looked for a way out.

    Just then, Lt. Colonel Bastille shouted.

    "Major General Orca! MajorGeneral Orca must be here! Where is the warden!"

    "I, I don''t know! He hasn''t been seen since some time...."

    Orca, who had just moments before been on the front lines, fighting the prisoners of Level 9, was nowhere to be found.

    Lt. Colonel Bastille had no choice but to give the final order.

    "I have no choice. Everyone to the 5th floor, to the gulper eel kennel!"

    The situation was so desperate that he had no idea what his order would lead to.

    "Give up suppression! Everyone retreat!"

    Lt. Colonel Bastille''s words were the beginning of a remarkable event that wouldter be written in a small corner of the history books of mankind.

    It was the first official deration of humanity''s intention to abandon the Nouvelle Vague.

    * * *

    Meanwhile, on the 10th floor of the Nouvelle Vague, an entirely new figure has emerged.

    Professor Sady. She opened her mouth, looking no different than she did on the surface.

    "Hello friends~ long time no see!"

    She waved her hand once at D''Ordume and Souare, who had their mouths open in disbelief.

    Vikir opened his mouth to express his disbelief.

    " ...You managed toe this far."

    "Ahhh- Night Hound. It''s an honor~ hohoho."

    She walked over and shook hands with Aiyen, who was standing next to Vikir.

    "It''s been a while, Ms. Night Fox~"

    "It is good to see you again. Miss Uroboros, you kept your promise."

    "Of course~ I told you I''d be right behind you, I have business here."

    Aiyen had visited Cindy Wendy as soon as she was free of her past, and it seemed she had introduced her to Professor Sady.

    Aiyen, who had been a sniper in the Imperial City and carried on the reputation of Aqu the Night Fox, and Professor Sady, who had been a terrorist under the moniker Miss Uroboros, had joined forces.

    Aiyen and Sady were a perfect match for each other, as they were both anti-Empire.

    Vikir thought to himself.

    ''It''s a good thing I had given Cindy Wendy orders to find Sady before I was sent to Nouvelle Vague.''

    At the time of his previous sentencing to Nouvelle Vague, Vikir had handed Cindy Wendy a note with his instructions.

    ''... and look for Professor Sady.''

    She might be able to help him someday, he thought.

    Even if he was psychotic and moody, at least they had simr goals, and it worked.

    Aiyen had deliberately chosen the Nouvelle Vague to follow Vikir''s trail, and Professor Sady had used her status and connections as a former official of the Imperial Prison Service to disguise herself as a guard and sneak down to join the ranks of the guards who happened to be above ground in the Nouvelle Vague.

    "Hohoho �C Warden Orca and the rest of you just happened to be on the ground, so it was easy to infiltrate the convoy as it was thergest convoy ever. Fake identities, it''s my specialty."

    Sady acted as if he knew D''Ordume and Souare well.

    The more she did so, the more their faces crumpled like they''d chewed shit.

    "You, the one who once served as an Imperial Family advisor to the arresting unit, why did you betray us? It''s disgusting that you were once considered a candidate for warden alongside us."

    "Hmph! If you''d done anything wrong, you''d have been called ''Sixth Warden'' alongside that bitch, though she was eventually rejected for having traitorous blood in her veins."

    Despite D''Ordume and Souare''s sour usations, Sady was still smiling broadly.

    "Do you think I''m crazy enough to be thrown into this stuffy, damp ce with you pigs? no grace."

    With that, Sady dismissed the conversation with D''Ordume and Souare.

    Then, as if on cue, she looked back at Vikir and asked.

    "Oh, by the way, have you seen the man I ced in the Nouvelle Vague? He''s from Leviathan, his name is Sakkuth... and he''s a pretty good pig."

    " ...Haven''t seen him."

    "Really? Well, he''s always been a little unstable mentally, but he said he could do a good job, so I didn''t expect much from him, but I guess it didn''t work out~"

    Sady chuckled and stepped in front of D''Ordume, Souare, and Flubber.

    "I''m going to stop them, so just do what you can."

    At the same time, Sady''s entire body began to glow with dark mana.

    Vikir realized immediately what Sady was trying to do.

    ...Gurgling!

    A demonic, ferocious energy exploded from Sady''s left eye.

    Demonization.

    Vikir could sense the familiar aura of Sady''s transformation into a demon.

    ''Belial, the artifact from when I killed the Sixth Corpse.''

    He had been wondering why no artifact had dropped when he killed Belial, who was infiltrating Bourgeois.

    Sady removed the blindfold covering her left eye.

    A golden-colored artifact glimmered inside.

    Tsutsutsutsutsutsutsutsuts...

    A ck and golden aura zed, making Sady''s whip even longer and thicker.

    jja-ag!

    The ck and golden snake slithered across the ground.

    It was a fierce attack that sent D''Ordume, Souare, and even Flubber flying.

    Vikir swallowed hard as he watched the immensebat power of the demonized Sady.

    The student Underdogma, who had an average level ofbat power when he was in the Hell Tree, had gained strengthparable to a Danger ss A+ monster after bing a demon(majin).

    It was hard to even estimate how powerful Sady, who was originally strong enough to surpass the realm of the Master, would have now that she became a Majin.

    [Hohohoho- technique that requires you to lie down for at least half a year after you use it!]

    Unlike Underdogma, Sady had not be a full demon, but was walking a tightrope with half of her body remaining human.

    This was possible thanks to her sense of bnce, which had long since surpassed the level of humans, and her innate sense ofbat.

    "...!"

    D''Ordume and Souare flinched back from Sady''s assault.

    Flubber, too, was powerless against the AoE whip, which burnt everything it touched.

    And Sady''s chaotic aura stretched out and swirled wildly in all directions.

    It was an ineffective attack, but it worked in Vikir''s favor.

    This is because Poseidon was absorbing an increasing amount of force due to the impact being transmitted towards the surface.

    ''That''s it. Almost... just a little more!''

    The blue light emitted by Poseidon grew stronger and stronger.

    jjeojeog- jjeog- jjeojeojeog!

    The blue color of the surface began to crack with violent vibrations.

    Vikir and Aiyen were drawing up mana with all their might and pouring it into Poseidon.

    ...kung!

    There was a being that cut off all these flows at once.

    ujijijijig!

    A shockwave crashes down on the ground.

    Crumbling earth, D''Ordume and Souare falling backwards, and Flubber fidgeting.

    "What?"

    Sady closed her left eye, blocking out the magic.

    The instincts of a genius, the dangers that screamed at her.

    Having ignored that warning once before and lost her left eyeball, Sady wasn''t about to make the same mistake twice.

    ...Boom!

    For the third time, Sady flipped and fell backwards.

    Still alert, she lowered her stance and kept her body close to the ground.

    And then.

    A figure that made even the demonized Sady take a step back stepped out into the middle of the battlefield.

    A trench coat with ck fur strewn about. Gray hair and beard that rose stiffly.

    Warden Orca.

    He had personally walked down to Level 10.

    "...Sady?"

    Orca''s brow furrowed as soon as he saw Sady''s face, as if he''d seen something he shouldn''t have.

    Sady broke out in a cold sweat just hearing his thick, hoarse voice.

    "...Don''t say my name, old man."

    Her whip flew out like a writhing viper, aiming for Orca''s face.

    pakang-

    Orca raised his gaiter leg to block the whip.

    Kiririririk-

    The whip was unable to ovee the force of the swing and was caught in Orca''s gaiters and military boots.

    Orca stamped his foot as the whip was wrapped around his foot.

    ...kung!

    With a single roll of his foot, Sady almost missed the whip.

    "...!"

    Barely holding on to the body she was being dragged, she tightened her arms and yanked the whip back.

    kkudeudeudeudeug- kkwagigig!

    But the whip crunched beneath Orca''s military boots and didn''t budge.

    "...."

    Orca. This seasoned veteran raised his hollow eyes and looked around.

    Slowly, as if he didn''t care about Sady in front of him.

    And then.

    "...!"

    Orca''s eyes narrowed.

    His gaze was fixed on the side of the blue orb that emitted a brilliant light, on a boy who stood awkwardly and peered down at them.

    Vikir Van Baskerville, young on the outside, but a seasoned warrior who had seen many lives.

    And Orca Montreuil-sur-Mer Javert. A veteran of several generations already.

    "...."

    "...."

    The two veterans who met in one ce, transcending time and space, began to sharply confront each other.

 Chapter 414: End game (8)

    <h4>Chapter 414: End game (8)</h4>

    All of Nouvelle Vague''s All-Stars have gathered in the Level Ten sector.

    Warden Orca.

    And three of the five wardens, D''Ordume, Souare, and Flubber, except for BDISSEM and ck Tongue, who were eliminated by Vikir.

    Among them, Orca is the one who stands alone.

    Orca''s eyes are fixed on Vikir.

    Vikir, in turn, watches Orca.

    "...."

    "...."

    When a war of nerves between two veterans is about to break out.

    "How dare you ignore me!"

    A tearing yell pierced the air.

    Professor Sady. Her bloodshot gaze shed toward Orca.

    ...kwakwang!

    The whip that was under Orca''s military boots broke the ground and was pulled out.

    It bared its fangs once more and wrapped around Orca''s body.

    But Orca was still unmoved.

    It merely clicked its tongue.

    "Winston, that guy. Maybe he''s too young, but I advised him not to reap, just stomp her to death. Although it is a baby, what good is there in keeping the seed of anger alive? It will eventuallye back to bite him."

    The old soldier recalled a time long ago. A long time ago.

    And the reminiscences were enough to provoke someone, just by muttering them.

    Such was the case with Sady.

    "Die! I''ll kill you! Aaaahhh!"

    Her resentment growing thicker and hotter with each passing second, she channeled all of her aura, enhanced by her demonization, into the tip of the whip and let it explode.

    kwakwakwakwakwang!

    The air ruptured, and the ground tore like paper.

    Orca''s brow furrowed, and he yanked at the chain around his waist.

    jeolgeuleog-

    The chain moved, and so did the handle of the club at its end.

    Orca grabbed the handle of the club and swung it once, casually.

    Boom-

    The ripple in the air is enough to break Sady''s whip.

    Seeing this, Aiyen''s mouth dropped open.

    "Is it possible to have that kind of strength at that age? Normally, He should be lying in bed and being carried around."

    "The same could be said for Chief Aqu."

    "My mother wasn''t that old."

    Aiyen smirked at Vikir''sment.

    At the same time, she raised the bow in her hand and prepared to snipe.

    The extra strength she''d gained from the stats she''d gotten from the Hell Tree allowed her to pull the bowstring even tighter.

    Pow!

    The sound of an arrow being released was deceptively loud as it struck Orca.

    Near his throat, to be exact.

    ...Taaang!

    Orca raised his club to block Aiyen''s arrow.

    "Sniper, you''re a nuisance."

    Aiyen felt sorry for Orca when he responded indifferently.

    "If only I had a better bow...."

    But before Aiyen could finish her grumble, Orca made a move.

    "You guys go clean up the area. I''m going to investigate that strange orb."

    At Orca''smand, D''Ordume and Souare nodded with grim expressions.

    (Even Flubber''s expression turned a bit somber next to them.)

    With that, Orca approached Poseidon with his club crossed in front of him.

    Standing in his way was Vikir.

    "No."

    A crimson aura emanated from Beelzebub.

    Orca''s brow creased.

    "It''s the child of the Baskervilles. But how did you get this power? At your age?"

    "Let''s not mention age."

    Young or old, these are two men with powers that don''t belong together.

    The two old warriors shed ferociously in the center of the battlefield.

    ...pakang!

    The atmosphere shatters into pieces.

    The heavy ck aura emanating from Orca''s club and the crimson light from Vikir''s Beelzebub intertwine ferociously.

    The aftermath of the impact is still running through the ground, nourishing Poseidon.

    The blue glow was even more intense than before.

    Seeing it, Orca''s eyes turned even more sinister.

    "You must have something up your sleeve, I suppose, to cause all this chaos and then sneak back here. Like a rat."

    "...I won''t deny it."

    Orca''s clubes down, and Vikir''s sword meets it.

    The air cracked and the ground warped with each blow.

    Vikir turned to Aiyen behind him.

    "I''ll stop this one, and you focus on getting Poseidon activated."

    "Got it!"

    As soon as Aiyen realized that Orca was no match for her, she began to do what she could.

    "You grumpy old man...."

    Sady raised her demonized body again and tried to aim for Orca''s back, but the presence of D''Ordume, Souare, and Flubber in front of her prevented her from doing so.

    This allowed Vikir to focus solely on the opponent in front of him.

    ... But that doesn''t make things any easier.

    ng!

    The weight of the clubnding on the back of his sword was more than even the mighty Vikir could handle.

    Each blow was heavy, and the slightest misstep in the center of gravity would result in an instant death.

    ''...Orca. An unexpected figure.''

    Indeed, the Nouvelle Vague''s signature fighting power.

    Vikir stepped back, feeling a few drops of cold sweat slip away as the club swept past him.

    Despite drawing upon the power of the Supreme Realm and beyond, the battle was tense.

    Vikir had to admit that Orca was much stronger than he had expected.

    ''I think he''s a little stronger than Nabokov I, and... a little less than CaneCorso.''

    Pope Nabokov I''sbat prowess had been a surprise to him, having seen it only briefly against Amdusias.

    But she was long past her prime, and as a priest, she wasn''t exactly abat specialist.

    And considering that CaneCorso was also a former human who became a Death Knight, it''s safe to say that Warden Orca in front of him is the strongest human Vikir has ever encountered.

    Orca, meanwhile, is equally surprised that Vikir, who appears to be no more than twenty years old at most, has such great strength and seasoned senses.

    ...kwakwang!

    Once again, Orca''s club and Vikir''s sword shed.

    Their auras tangled wildly, each crushing and cutting the other.

    In the aftermath of this murderous sh, the surrounding stone mountains crumbled, leaving behind a trail of steam, me, and dust.

    ...peoeog!

    Vikir raised his knee to block the flying Orca''s military boots.

    ppudeudeug-

    Orca turned his head away to avoid Vikir''s left fist.

    The blue mes surrounding Poseidon grew stronger and stronger as Vikir and Orca fought a fierce hand-to-handbat, using fists and feet in addition to swords and clubs.

    "Husby, it''s almost time!"

    Hearing Aiyen''s shout, Vikir nodded and tried to push back.

    However.

    chaleuleuleug-

    A chain swung from the end of the club like a whip, grabbed Vikir''s ankle and yanked.

    "Where are you going? I have to see the end. Young people these days don''t have much patient."

    Orca''s eyes sparked with searing fire.

    Vikir nced away and squinted behind him.

    Poseidon''s vibration is unusual.

    Judging by the constant explosions near the roots, the umted shock must be about to cross the breaking point.

    ''...Now, or a little longer? No, should we leave now?''

    The timing was ambiguous enough that even Vikir couldn''t make an urate judgment.

    A little more shock, just a little more, would make it clearer, but if he stayed here and fought Orca any longer, he wouldn''t have the stamina to escape.

    And above all, on the battlefield before the regression, Orca was a great hero who had helped the Human Alliance enormously, so he could not be expected to fight to the death in a ce like this.

    ''He was also the one who blew up the Nouvelle Vague with his own hands....''

    Vikir already knew why.

    The Destruction War. A growing war. The looming doom. Demons turning their attention to Nouvelle Vague. ...And then there was the event that had nothing to do with any of that.

    ''...The ''Second'' 47 Man Riot.''

    Vikir mentally recalled a specific event.

    kwakwang!

    Orca''s club came flying down.

    Vikir pushed his aura to the limit and met Orca''s blow.

    Kurrrrrr!

    Baskerville 8th Form, ck Sun.

    Despite the fact that even the ck Tongue was sent flying in a single blow, Orca managed to hold on.

    His brow crumpled slightly, but he didn''t back down.

    The gaping wounds on his forehead and chin were popping open and spewing red blood, but he hadn''t taken a step back from the spot, blocking Vikir''s ck sun.

    "... Is this your highest power?"

    "...."

    "Then it''s my turn."

    Orca swiped a hand across his sweaty, bloodied face.

    And then.

    ...udeudeudeug!

    The sound of twisting muscles and bones could be heard throughout his body.

    For a moment, a piece of pre-regressionmon sense shed through Vikir''s mind.

    '' ...They said Orca wasn''t an ordinary human either.''

    That''s right. Just as the five wardens of the Nouvelle Vague were not all human, so was Orca.

    Vikir had just adjusted his stance and was about to enter the second round.

    jjaag-

    The sound of tough leather popping came from somewhere.

    The back of Javert''s thick fur coat was torn from his shoulders, and a whip flicked across it.

    Sady. She was holding onto Orca''s back, exhausted from the aftereffects of the demonization and the battle.

    Further behind them, D''Ordume and Souarey sprawled in a pool of blood.

    Flubber doesn''t even look like it''s been blown to pieces.

    "...Thank you."

    Sady wasn''t looking at Orca, she was looking at Vikir.

    Vikir tilted his head at her unexpected words.

    What is she thanking me for?

    Sady continued.

    "For keeping your promise."

    Suddenly, Vikir remembered a promise he''d made to her at Colosseo Academy.

    He had asked her to hand over Orwell, the key to Nouvelle Vague''s front door.

    ''Hand it over.''

    ''Yes~ I''ll give it to you~ I really need the ''front door key'' too, but... there are other ways.''

    ''....''

    ''Can you promise me one more thing in return?''

    Sady was clearly asking for a favor.

    ''When you escape, if you get a chance, please bring my grandfather out with you.''

    Sady''s grandfather, the man she credits with having the greatest influence on her thinking.

    "...!"

    Vikir''s eyes widened and she looked around.

    The terrain had already been ravaged by Vikir and Orca''s sh.

    Every mountain and hill had copsed, and countless crevasses had formed on the ins, leaving them open-mouthed.

    Even Level 9 couldn''t handle it, and the aftermath had reached the areas of the beings they had isted.

    Under the circumstances, it''s no wonder.

    ujig- ujijijig!

    In the distance, the cell began to crumble.

    "...Ah, no."

    Souare, who was in charge of the cell, turned white.

    D''Ordume, too, was unable to speak as he was devastated.

    "...."

    Even the mighty Orca''s face crumpled.

    His face was even more distorted than when he was facing Vikir''s 8th Form earlier.

    And then.

    A voice began to emanate from the crumbling cell.

    "Pushishishishi...."

    A hollowugh, like the wind being let out of a balloon.

    It was a sound Vikir had heard once before, when he was in solitary confinement.

    Then, from among the crumbling rubble, a tall, sturdy old man pushed himself up.

    His appearance was so gaunt and twisted that one might suspect he was undead.

    Indeed, he had the gaunt appearance of someone who had just been released from solitary confinement.

    However, his gestures and movements still have a leisurely feel.

    He didn''t look like he was someone who had juste out of solitary confinement.

    "...Angajumang?"

    Vikir asks, and the old man nods and smiles.

    "Good thing you came, I was getting tired of ''vacation''."

    The old man looked back at Sady on the floor and smiled warmly.

    Only then was Vikir once again certain of his identity.

    "Angajumang Cedric Sady de Sade. Also known as the Marquis de Sade.

    It was the unleashing of a rare warmonger who had shaken the Empire to its core more than forty years ago with the ''47 Man Riots''.

 Chapter 415: End game (9)

    <h4>Chapter 415: End game (9)</h4>

    ...Grumble!

    The sh between Vikir and Orca smashed and crumbled everything in its path.

    Regardless of whether something was touched by human hands or not, it was an equal ending.

    Mountains, hills, outer walls, watchtowers, shafts, piers... all copsed.

    And solitary confinement was one of them.

    kwaleuleuleuleuleuleuleug-

    Numerous solitary confinement cells copsed. Everything, nothing left.

    kwagig- peopeong!

    Each time one of Souare''s strange structures, such as a cell or a mold, copsed, skeletal mummies would emerge from within.

    ...Only one man survived: Marquis de Sade.

    The one human being that even the harsh conditions of Level 9 could not contain.

    In fact, his presence was so great that it was rumored that the Nouvelle Vague existed solely to imprison Marquis de Sade.

    ... Jeez!

    Vikir took a step backwards at the creepy sensation that shot through his body.

    It felt like countless snakes were licking his entire body.

    He felt this even though they hadn''t made eye contact and were just looking at him.

    ''...I should have known it when I heard the name Angajumang.''

    As he had suspected, the identity of ''Old Man Angajumang'' was none other than the Marquis de Sade.

    The warmonger who had once incited 47 families to stage a coup, the madman who wanted to return to the days of war, when only the strongest could survive.

    He was free again.

    "Pushishishi- It''s been a while since I''ve moved my body."

    Marquis de Sade moved his skinny arms back and forth.

    Each twist of the joint made a dull noise, like something popping and breaking.

    Then.

    "...Grandfather."

    Professor Sady, next to me, called out to Marquis de Sade.

    Her voice trembling slightly, unlike her.

    Sady and Sade.

    "Is that you, Sady? Oh, dear. You''ve grown up so much since Ist saw you."

    "Hohoho- I went to great effort to save my grandfather, but you''ll still be nice to me, won''t you?"

    "No matter how,e here and hug this old man."

    Sady staggered to her feet, covered in blood, and hugged Marquis de Sade.

    Marquis de Sade, too, smiled warmly and stroked Sady''s hair.

    "Thank God you''re alive, my dear."

    "I''m d my grandfather is safe."

    "I thought our family line was dead, but now there''s a day of sunshine."

    "What? I''m not looking for a man."

    "I''m only saying that because I''m thinking of meeting a woman."

    Sady and Marquis de Sade wereughing heartily and chatting.

    The atmosphere was so peaceful and rxed that, for a moment, one might mistake it for a caf�� terrace in the middle of a quiet morning.

    But the peacefulness was short-lived.

    "You finally crawled out, Angajumang."

    Orca growled, his voice like boiling water.

    Marquis de Sade turned his head, a bored expression on his face, and met Orca''s gaze.

    "Long time no see, old Orca. You live so long without dying."

    "That''s not what I want to hear from you."

    Orca immediately picked up his club.

    He swung it with all his might at the Marquis de Sade.

    "Oh, you''re going to persecute an old man, unarmed and empty-handed? That''s really too much."

    Marquis de Sade smirked and picked up the whip from the floor.

    "Granddaughter, I''ll borrow your whip."

    And.

    peopeong- chlg!

    He swung it back at Orca''s flying club.

    The heavy iron on the tip of Orca''s club met the heavy iron on the tip of Marquis de Sade''s whip.

    ...kwakwang!

    A loud explosion erupted, too loud to be believed to be metal on metal.

    Sparks and shards of aura scattered in all directions, upsetting the already devastatedndscape once more.

    kwakwang! kwang! ujijijijijig! peopeong! peong! uleuleung...

    With each stroke of the club and whip, thendscape cracked, rejoined, twisted, minced, and then cracked, crumbled, and shattered again.

    Surprisingly, the power and spirit radiated by the Marquis de Sade was not at all inferior to that of Orca.

    Who would have thought he''d spent thest few decades in solitary confinement on the 9th floor of the Nouvelle Vague?

    "...."

    Orca wrapped his trembling arms around himself and lowered his posture.

    Marquis de Sade looked down at him, then opened his mouth.

    "...Yes, I remember that day. It''s been more than 40 years."

    ''The 47 Man Riot''.

    An unprecedented event that urred when the Empire had just been unified.

    It was led by 47 people, but each of them was the head of a single family, which is why it''s also known as the 47 Families Rebellion.

    They rebelled against the empire and stormed the Imperial Pce,ing close to beheading the emperor.

    The official reason given was that they wanted the Imperial Throne, but...

    "Actually, they didn''t care about the throne at all. Pushishi-"

    Marquis de Sade had rebelled for one reason only.

    ''Fun''.

    Since the Empire had been united, there had been no morerge-scale wars, no more hundreds of thousands dying a day, no more blood-and-guts fights with the strongest.

    Power was no longer something to be wielded at will, and revenge was no longer something to be taken when wronged.

    Everything was done ording tows and rules, and the emphasis was on getting things done as peacefully and bloodlessly as possible.

    Marquis de Sade hated this change bitterly.

    The days of war, killing, plunder, revenge, and the struggle of strength against strength.

    A time of endless blood and violence, when only the strongest could survive and prove their lives were worth living.

    "I loved those days, those people, those times... pushishishi...."

    Marquis de Sade, who had lived his entire life in such a state of warfare, could not adapt to the dull and boring era he was suddenly thrust into at the end of his life.

    Or rather, he hadn''t had the heart to adapt in the first ce.

    "Well, whatever. So I stirred things up. A riot. It was fun for a while, yeah. I''m sure the world hasn''t been the same since. It''s a boring ce again, and I can tell by the state of the children who are admitted here. They''ve been bred for peace andziness."

    Marquis de Sade shook his head as if he was disgusted.

    "So I thought it might be better for me to spend some time in solitary confinement here at Nouvelle Vague, to clear my head and organize my thoughts."

    " ...Why would someone who did that crawl back out now?"

    Orca asked.

    Marquis de Sade looked at Orca with a childlike gaze.

    "Well, I hear things have gotten quite interesting on the surfacetely."

    "...."

    Orca''s already stiff expression hardened even more.

    This was one thing he didn''t want to be found out about.

    The current state of affairs on the surface of the world was something that Marquis de Sade must never know.

    Orca had seen the world before returning here to Nouvelle Vague. He saw how it had changed.

    And Marquis de Sade had seen it, too, in those eyes. He saw it.

    There were things everywhere that Marquis de Sade would have loved to see, things that would have kept his interest piqued and insatiable.

    War, killing, ughter, blood, violence, a brute force world where only the strong survive.

    The fiercest days of the Warring States Period.

    The greatest, hottest, most violent times, when the great ck Mage Tzersi or the great Swordsman Ornati lived.

    An era of great warparable to the heyday of the Warring States Period ising.

    "Pushishishi! This was such a shameful thing in myter years that my blood got hot. It''s been a while since I wanted to go outside? Can you help me, my dear?"

    "Of course, Grandpa. I''ll escort you to the ground."

    Marquis de Sade looked back at his granddaughter, Sady, and spoke in a humorous tone.

    It was clearly a friendly conversation between the grandchildren, but somehow a terrifying madness was felt in their smiles.

    at that time.

    ...kung!

    Orca struck the ground once with his club.

    "You''ll never get out. You guys."

    Orca''s eyes dripped with hatred as he turned to face the criminals.

    "Social Evil. It is my responsibility to prevent the chaos and disorder created by your very existence and the anxiety of themon people. Even if I die, you can''t leave this ce."

    "Pushishishi- Come on, my friend. What do you think your life is worth?"

    Major General Orca and Marquis de Sade began to face off once more.

    "I''m not letting you go. Never. Ever."

    "Pushishishi �C and you don''t even have Winston to assist you this time."

    Orca raised his heavy club.

    Marquis de Sade curled his whip as well, posturing as if he were about to perform a sword duel.

    jjeojeog- jjeojeojeojeog-

    The air and ground around them shattered like ss as the two ferocious forces collided.

    Meanwhile, just a few feet away from the center of the maelstrom, Aiyen asked Vikir.

    "What do you think we should do, run away?"

    "...No. In a way, this is good timing."

    Vikir shook his head.

    Maybe he could take advantage of their fight.

    ''Timing. I have to get the timing right.''

    The confrontation between Orca and Marquis de Sade was indeed frightening.

    Simply ring at each other and exuding momentum is enough to warp the terrain, but what happens when they unleash their full power?

    ...The results were starting to y out in real time right now.

    kwakwang!

    Orca kicked the ground and rushed forward.

    Marquis de Sade chuckled and took a step back.

    Orca charging like an angry killer whale and Marquis de Sade flying like a pale ghost.

    Both of them were holding strong power in their hands, as if they were trying to win the battle with one blow.

    ...sh!

    Orca channeled all of his aura into the tip of his club.

    A tidal wave of energy washed over Marquis de Sade.

    kwakwakwakwakwakwa...

    Marquis de Sade shortened his whip.

    And he rotated the aura that was previously immobilized by the BDISSEM restraints.

    Tsutsutsutsutsutsuts...

    Combination. The explosive power and momentum of a punch, a technique that would settle the match in a single blow, was embodied in the whip.

    Just then.

    "Now!"

    Vikir stepped between them.

    kuleuleuleuleug! kwaleuleung!

    8th Form of Baskerville. The ck Sun fell between Orca and Marquis de Sade.

    "...!?"

    "...!?"

    Orca and Marquis de Sade were greatly disconcerted by the sudden turn of their one-on-one fight into a three-way battle, but they could not take back the blow that had already cost them their lives.

    Then, a tidal wave of ck from Orca''s club, a serpent of strikes from Marquis de Sade''s whip, and Vikir''s ck Sun descended upon the same spot in unison.

    And there was one who moved swiftly ahead of them.

    "West, take it!"

    It was Aiyen.

    She stretched out her hands with all her might.

    Toward the blue glowing orb in front of them, Poseidon!

    kwakwakwang!

    A ferocious explosion urred near the root, and the ground shook in the aftermath.

    ujijijig!

    Poseidon was pulled out of the ground.

    It dropped from the ground like an onion with roots sprouting out of it, and soon rolled tumbling down the slope.

    Toward the very spot where Orca and Marquis de Sade were gathering for Vikir''s blow!

    At the same time.

    ...sh!

    A blinding light and a tremendous roar erupted.

    Aiyen barely covered her ears.

    Vikir felt his eardrums burst and blood flow.

    "Kuhugh!?"

    "Kuahh!?"

    The explosion was so loud that even D''Ordume and Souare, who were watching, fell to the ground clutching their ears.

    And at the same time.

    ...! ...! ...! ...!

    After being hit by three different types of shockwaves, Poseidon''s state began to change.

    jjeojeog-

    The sound of an eggshell cracking.

    ...It sounded like something was hatching.

 Chapter 416: End game (10)

    <h4>Chapter 416: End game (10)</h4>

    ...sh!

    A storm erupted.

    A huge crater was created, and all the dirt, dust, moisture, water, vapor, groundwater,va, smoke, sulfurous gas, and everything else... in the vicinity was swept away.

    The floor was swept so cleanly that it felt smooth.

    The air was parched, without a trace of moisture, and there was no sign of the usual mes or gases.

    And in the center of this pristine wastnd, two men knelt on one knee.

    Their clothes tattered and torn, blood streaming from their foreheads, the weapons that had defended their masters embedded deep in the ground.

    They endured it all with their eyes wide open, despite the bombardment of light and heat.

    On one side, disying a truly fearsome will, is Orca, the head warden of Nouvelle Vague.

    On the other was Marquis de Sade, Nouvelle Vague''s worst prisoner.

    "...What was that?"

    "Oh my, my body feel ache, why you interrupt?"

    The strength of the two old men who had survived the explosion and its aftermath was the same, but the source of that strength waspletely different.

    Major General Orca''s will to protect and defend.

    The Marquis de Sade''s will to harm and destroy.

    The will and purpose of these two men were so opposed to each other that they unexpectedly produced the same result.

    The two old men, who had managed to hold their own in the midst of the chaos, soon straightened up and prepared to fight again.

    However.

    "...!"

    Both old men were stunned by the scene in front of them as soon as they opened their eyes.

    kuleuleuleuleug-

    Blue mes roared from the center of the crater.

    A thick, gigantic pir of fire was rising from the ground below.

    It pierced through the ceilings of every floor of Nouvelle Vague, Lv. 9, Lv. 8, Lv. 7, Lv. 6, Lv. 5, Lv. 4, Lv. 3, Lv. 2, and Lv. 1, and stretched even higher.

    Dededededededededer-

    The Gate of Good and Evil.

    The massive circr gate that served as the lid of the Nouvelle Vague kept the blue pir of fire at bay, but the chains around it were breaking one by one, and it looked quite precarious.

    The entire gate was burning brightly as the chains snapped and the pulleys around it broke.

    The flubber slime was beginning to clear, and the water that had begun to rush in from outside was evaporating before it could get anywhere near the pir of fire.

    "What, what is that?"

    Orca''s mouth was half open in disbelief.

    But no one knew anything about this anomaly.

    Even D''Ordumre, Souare, Sady, Aiyen, and Marquis de Sade, far away in the distance, were all staring nkly at the end of the pir of fire.

    ...Every single person. Except for Vikir.

    kuleuleuleug!

    Vikir approached the spot where the me sprout had germinated, where the blue egg had been.

    The hot air and blue mes threatened to consume him, but Vikir was undaunted.

    He thought he''d gotten used to the heat from the burns he''d suffered while trying to disguise himself as Garm''s face, but the heat he felt now... was something else entirely.

    The ultra-high-temperature clear salt, which was so hot that it could not even bepared to a normal fire, was creating an enormous rising air current.

    ''It''s almost burning my flesh now.''

    Vikir pushed through the searing mes.

    He had to cling to the ground with all his might to keep himself from floating upward.

    Finally, through the mes and turbulence, he could see Poseidon''s form.

    The round sphere had been split in half, and a pir of blue fire was erupting from its center.

    The roots of the pir of fire beneath it were barely visible.

    Judging by the intermittent explosions and earthquakes that wereing from very deep beneath the ground, he could only guess that it was probably touching the thermosphere of the deepest part of the Nouvelle Vague volcano.

    ''So, Nouvelle Vague is not a extinct volcano.''

    This volcano is not extinct.

    It''s just been secretly storing up energy to explode one day in the biggest, most spectacr way possible.

    And it was this blue seed, Poseidon, that had taken root in the center of that power and was sucking it up.

    Technically, it was a parasite on the Nouvelle Vague.

    ''No. Maybe it''s not a parasite. Maybe this ce, Nouvelle Vague itself, was created by someone for the purpose of hatching Poseidon....''

    ... But that wasn''t what mattered now.

    Vikir plunged his hand into the mes and pulled away all the scorching embers.

    To his surprise, the mes seemed wary and fierce at first, but calmed down at his touch.

    Like an animal that has allowed its fur to be stroked.

    The heat diminished, and soon there was nothing but warmth.

    Vikir pushed forward, using the basilisk''s power to regenerate his flesh.

    At this point, Vikir was able to part the curtains of fire and look through them.

    Inside was a small, circr space.

    And there was a pair of eyes looking up at him.

    [...!]

    ck scales. And blue mes sizzling between them.

    ... The creature was maybe a little less than the size of a palm?

    A strange creature that looked like a lizard, but with wings on its back, red at Vikir.

    Its entire body was engulfed in mes, as if it were a creature born of fire, fed by fire, nourished by fire, and returned to fire.

    "...."

    Vikir stared down at it.

    It stared back at him, too.

    They are seeing each other for the first time since they were born.

    And then.

    Hup.

    It gave a small hup.

    A tiny spark of blue me red from its tiny nostrils, and then it was gone.

    "Pretty. So something like this can be born from an egg. Is it something like Smander?"

    "...No. It''s much, much higher beings than that."

    Vikir''s words were cut short by the admiring words of Aiyen, who had now caught up with him.

    Vikir doesn''t know exactly what it is either.

    He knows only that it is the greatest of the ancient beings that oppose the demons, and that it holds the greatest potential.

    That could be guessed just by looking at Decarabia''s reaction as it trembled between his chest.

    [Gosh, I can''t believe this still exists! I thought it was extinct a long, long time ago! I''ve heard that the Mage Emperor Tzersi personally exterminated them one by one! Maybe this is thest one left in the world...!?]

    At the sight of Poseidon, Decarabia began to tremble with all the excitement he had been holding in.

    Meanwhile.

    kkuleug- kkuleug- kuleuleug-

    It moved its ck and blue body and approached Vikir.

    It nuzzled its cheek against the back of Vikir''s hand.

    An expression of friendliness. A movement that reveals unconditional liking and affection for the being that one sees for the first time in one''s life.

    But the time ofmunication was short.

    Paang-

    It spread its wings and prepared to take to the skies.

    Vikir was calmly meeting its gaze as if it was begging him to take care of himself.

    ''see you again.''

    A message echoed in Vikir mind.

    It wasn''t in the form of words, but that didn''t make it any less true, and it struck a chord in his heart.

    Vikir responded in kind.

    ''Human life is short. By the time you are old enough toe and see me, I will not be here. You will never see me again.''

    It closed its eyes, shook its head, and looked terribly sad at Vikir''s words.

    And then. It was time.

    It spread its tiny wings wide.

    And from beneath the ground, from the deepest, hottest part of the volcano, a plume of blue fire erupted, powering its wings.

    ku-gugugugugugugu!

    The power of the volcano was condensed into its two tiny wings, creating a blinding blue light.

    At any moment, it is about to break through the bottom of the abyss, prate the deep, dark abyss, rise above the water, pass through the distant skies, and soar into the vast expanse of heaven.

    "That''s it. It''s done."

    Vikir turned his attention away from all of this.

    All the work he had done was done.

    All the dangers and hardships of his journey to and from this Ghost Castle in the deepest depths of the sea have been fulfilled.

    "This is the end of my purpose in Nouvelle Vague. The egg has hatched, and there''s nothing more to see."

    "Really? Does that mean we can get out of here?"

    "...Now that''s a new problem."

    Vikir was silent.

    In truth, he''d thought about this when he''d first descended into Nouvelle Vague.

    If he could find this Poseidon safely and get it up and running a few years early, he''d have done his duty, and then he doesn''t mind dying.

    But now that he had gotten to this point and made it work, he had a new desire.

    He want to live.

    He want to survive longer.

    He wants to see with his own eyes how the future of humanity ys out, how this long, terrible war ends, how it''s resolved, how it''s finished in a way that he didn''t see in hisst life.

    Many would die.

    And many will survive.

    And live on.

    The future. The far future, far beyond what Vikir had seen in his previous life!

    ...teoeog!

    Vikir reached out and tugged at Aiyen''s wrist.

    "What?"

    Turning to Aiyen, who looked surprised, Vikir said briefly.

    "Let''s get out of here."

    Now it was his turn to leave Nouvelle Vague for real.

    The nostalgic faces swirling in his head.

    It was time to return to the ground, which had changed so much in the meantime.

 Chapter 417: Goodbye Nouvelle Vague (1)

    <h4>Chapter 417: Goodbye Nouvelle Vague (1)</h4>

    ...Kwakwang! Rumble!

    The entire Nouvelle Vague prison shook violently.

    Vikir and Aiyen raced down the spiral staircase on Vakira''s back.

    [keong! keong! keong!]

    Vakira''s sprint was faster than it had been in his prime, significantly reducing the time it took to climb the floors.

    chwaaaag-

    A huge tidal wave surged in front of them.

    "Oh no, this must be a flooded corridor!"

    "This is the shortcut. Break through!"

    At Vikir''s words, Aiyen nodded and loaded an arrow.

    peo-peong!

    The arrow flew in a straight line, tearing a gaping hole in the waves.

    Vakira leaped over the ring of water like a circus act, kicking the ground beneath the waves where the arrow had cut through and leaping again.

    ... Thud!

    Through the flooded corridor andnding on a half-destroyed bridge pier, Vakira continued to run.

    Off to the side, the blue pir of fire continued to rise, burning away at the Gate of Good and Evil.

    "We''re on the 5th floor now!"

    "Yep. There''s an gulper eel kennel on this floor."

    "Do you think there are any eels left?"

    "Last time I checked, there were quite a few of them. Even if they escaped first, they couldn''t have used all of them."

    Vikir was right.

    There were still a few gulper eels in the holding tank, with debris and water raining down from the ceiling.

    There was chaos all around, as many of the prisoners and guards had already escaped.

    There was blood everywhere and bodies floating around.

    It was easy to see that there had been a terrible fight for the gulper eel.

    ''It''s a good thing I sent those who would escape first to the fifth floor.''`

    Vikir had ordered that as many people as possible who were worth saving were to wait on the fifth floor before entering.

    He''d even gone so far as to forge the orders, so there must have been quite a few people on the fifth floor.

    They were already on the fifth floor at the time of the rampage, so they had a good chance of getting out safely.

    "It''s a miracle there are any eels left."

    Aiyan picked up a fishing hook and rope and jumped into the fish tank himself, catching arge gulper eel.

    Chua-ak.

    She twisted the jumped eel''s mouth open with a grimace and said.

    "Husby. Are you ready for this?"

    "I''m ready."

    Vikir nodded.

    But nevertheless, Aiyen opened her mouth once more.

    "Thend has changed. It''s not the world as my husby knows it anymore."

    "I know the general picture."

    "...?"

    Aiyen tilted her head.

    The world was different before and after Vikir''s imprisonment in Nouvelle Vague.

    How could Vikir know that?

    A newspaper, a story told to him by a new prisoner, or an informant he''d kept to himself?

    Aiyen looked back at Vikir with a puzzled expression, but Vikir didn''t really have an answer.

    Instead, Vikir was thinking about the world before he had returned.

    Memories of that day always haunt his nightmares.

    How could he forget that devastating season when 98% of humanity was wiped out?

    The sky suddenly torn apart and the mes that flowed from the cracks.

    The countless drops of fire that fell like snakes and showers.

    The torrential rain thatsted for 150 days, the Rain of Fear.

    A terrible weather event that turned the world''s forests into deserts and itskes into bottomless pits.

    Even after the dead have closed their eyes, the sounds of the dead wandering the parched wastnds, howling, and the unborn gasping for their dying breath, will haunt their dreams.

    A time when nothing could be promised or assured.

    A long rainy season that sentenced humanity to destruction.

    ''...It is about to begin.''

    Vikir could already see that the gates of destruction were about to open.

    The changes on the earth now are but fresh blood, mere signs and omens.

    They are merely the demons warming up before the real game begins.

    So Vikir has arranged all of this in advance.

    Slowly, patiently, and thoroughly.

    Now it was time to give the demons a good kicking.

    "The volcano is about to erupt."

    Poseidon has hatched, and it''s time to begin its ascent to the heavens.

    It was the beginning of the Great Nouvelle Vague Eruption.

    "We must get out of here before then."

    "But why did you explode the Nouvelle Vague?"

    "Showers of fire. To counter the rainy season of fear."

    "...?"

    Aiyen scratched her head.

    But Vikir had no answer for her this time.

    He merely reyed in his mind over and over again the thought of the Gates of Destruction, a great rain of fire that wouldst for 150 days.

    "Now that Poseidon has hatched, the climate will change dramatically. All that remains is to wait and see."

    With those words, Vikir reeled in the gulper eel.

    kwakwakwang! uleuleuleung! ...cheolsseog!

    Everywhere, earthquakes rumbled and copses fell.

    The rising tide flooded the castle hour after hour.

    The roar and crash of the waves was faintly interrupted by the shouts of the prisoners and guards upstairs.

    Aiyen stood in front of the faint remnants of the flubber doors, dragging an gulper eel with her.

    "Let''s get out!"

    "...."

    Vikir took a step forward.

    ... Just then.

    "Wait."

    A voice stopped Vikir and Aiyen.

    "...?"

    "...!"

    Aiyen wiggled one eyebrow.

    Vikir''s expression hardened slightly as well.

    Captain Kirko Grimm. She was standing in the corner of the kennel.

    Her uniform was torn to rags, revealing her scarred and bare body.

    He noticed that her beloved sword, which she had always honed, was broken in half.

    Red blood oozed from every part of her body, staining the waters around her red.

    "...."

    "...."

    Vikir and Kirko stood facing each other.

    It was the first time they had ever shown their bare faces.

    There was a sharpness in Kirko''s gaze.

    She asked Vikir pointedly.

    "Are you a prisoner?"

    "...."

    Vikir didn''t answer.

    Why she hasn''t escaped yet is unknown.

    But if she tries to escape, we''ll have to take her down by force.

    ...However.

    "If you ride any current, you''ll die before you can escape. Go back out the door on the left and take current 3021."

    Kirko showed an unexpected reaction.

    There are thousands of currents that can carry an gulper eel from the fifth floor.

    Only one of them is a cirction current that connects to the surface.

    All the rest were trap currents that would keep them at the bottom of the sea for hundreds of years.

    Vikir asked.

    "Why are you telling me this?"

    "...."

    Kirko spoke after a long silence.

    "I saw you kill ck Tongue."

    "...!"

    Kirko took off his guard''s hat.

    Then, in a dry, clear voice, Kirko asked.

    "What happened to the real Garm?"

    The question was cold and sharp, like a stab to the lungs.

    Vikir answered in a t tone.

    "Dead."

    "...when."

    "Two years ago, during the riots in Sakkuth. Saving you when you were unconscious."

    "...Where''s the body?"

    "Buried."

    "...."

    Kirko was still staring at Vikir, her eyes emotionless, her gaze unwavering.

    Her lips curled again.

    "Did he say any final words?"

    For a moment, Vikir''s mind shes back to Garm''sst words.

    He had muttered these words before he died.

    ''I wanted to show that... girl... the outside world... and... her....''

    That was Garm''sst words.

    Vikirplied.

    "He wanted to show you the outside world."

    A moment.

    "...!"

    Kirko''s pupils, which had not even moved until now, shook violently.

    Vikir remembered Garm''s long-burned diary.

    At the end of her diary, Garm wrote that he always wanted to get out of here with Kirko.

    Even though Garm was now forever unable to leave Nouvelle Vague.

    And then.

    tag-

    The sound of Kirko''s footsteps broke Vikir''s reverie.

    She turned around.

    And walking forward.

    It was not in the direction of the escape route.

    kwakwang- uleuleung...

    Deadnd with huge piles of stones and waterfalls.

    "Aren''t we getting out?"

    Vikir asked, and Kirko answered without looking back.

    "I''m not leaving. This is where I was born and raised."

    She paused after she finished speaking.

    Then, after a long silence, she turned her head slightly to the side and said in a whisper.

    "...Goodbye."

    It was such a small sound that it was barely audible, drowned out by the roar of the tidal wave crashing next to her.

    Unable to waste any more time, Vikir forced himself into the eel''s mouth.

    Aiyen cuts the rope, and the gulper eel is carried out of the castle by the current.

    The gulper eel is quickly moving away from the ocean current.

    With that, Vikir and Aiyen left Nouvelle Vague and headed for the surface.

    "...."

    The castle is crumbling and falling apart. Seawater rushing in from everywhere.

    Kirko was the only one left.

    She could see a man''s face in her mind.

    A man from the surface.

    A man who looked and acted friendly.

    But no matter how she looked at him, he was not fit to be a guard.

    ...and who seemed to think that one day he might return to the ground from which he came.

    So she didn''t want to stick around.

    Such a weak guy.

    But what is this?

    The guy who seemed like he was going to return to the ground at any time ended up not being able to do so.

    Tug-

    She took it off and threw the hat in her hand onto the flooded floor.

    And finally, she lowered her stinging gaze and spoke.

    ".....Stupid Garm. You''re such an idiot."

    That was the end of it.

    Soon, a huge amount of sea water rushed in andpletely filled the castle.

    kwakwakwakwang! kkuleuleuleuleug...

    And just like that, Nouvelle Vague was buried beneath the pitch ck water.

    Forever.

 Chapter 418: Goodbye Nouvelle Vague (2)

    <h4>Chapter 418: Goodbye Nouvelle Vague (2)</h4>

    kuleuleuleuleuleug...

    The abyss. A vast void.

    The ckened vision makes the passing of the mass of water bubbles only audible.

    Vikir and Aiyen''s gulper eel shook violently before emerging into the center of the deep sea.

    deudeudeudeudeu...

    For a moment, they thought they were in the wrong current because of the violent currents churning in all directions, but this was actually the only one that was working.

    Compared to the other currents, which are initially stable, this current 3021 is violently churning and unstable, but it eventually bes the safest route.

    Soon, the faint light from the gulper eel''s skin began to illuminate the surroundings.

    The pitch ckness brightened a bit, and through the transparent skin, they could see the outside of the deep sea.

    uleuleung...

    Nouvelle Vague waspletely submerged.

    Shrouded in mes and steam from the volcano''s interior, the Nouvelle Vague looks precariously close to exploding at any moment.

    This is probably because the Gate of Good and Evil in the ceiling of Nouvelle Vague is preventing the volcano from erupting.

    As a result, the Nouvelle Vague currently resembles a champagne bottle that has been shaken to the limit.

    The moment the top cap, the Gate of Good and Evil, is destroyed, an enormous explosion and rising current will ur.

    The explosion and the seawater that flows into the resulting cavity is heated by geothermal heat and expands, creating a primary pir of fire and a secondary pir of water on a massive scale.

    It will start in the deepest strata of the sea floor, prate the seafloor, and rise up high, passing over the surface of the water and into the air, very high up.

    "And it will be powerful enough to create extreme weather on the surface."

    Aiyen nodded at Vikir''s words.

    She was currently tugging at the fishing hook and rope hanging from the lip of the gulper eel, keeping it bnced.

    In other words, it is the role of the coachman who drives the carriage.

    Vikir was about to grab the line, too, when Aiyen, who had a good sense, felt something.

    "I think there''s something attached to the eel''s tail."

    "...?"

    Vikir looked back.

    Sure enough, there was something dangling from the tip of the gulper eel''s tail.

    It was dark and the current was too strong to see exactly what it was.

    ... But even without looking too closely, the thing started to move closer and closer to Vikir.

    Pulling on the eel''s tail, the creature slowly approached towards him.

    "...!"

    Vikir''s eyes widened.

    It was Marquis de Sade holding the gulper eel''s tail!

    He even had a sady at his side.

    Next, Marquis de Sade grabbed the gulper eel''s body and crawled up to its mouth and crawled in.

    "Puh-ha! The water pressure almost crushed my bones. Pushishishishi... But after being in solitary confinement for a long time, I''m starting to get used to it."

    "Greetings, Night Hound. It''s shameless, but I''d like a free ride~"

    Marquis de Sadeughed heartily.

    Even Sady, who has lost her mind, also lies down like a mollusk andughs.

    The gulper eel was alreadyrge enough to carry a dozen people, so adding Sady and Sade wouldn''t cause much trouble.

    "I''ll give you a ride if you behave."

    "Oh no. I feel sorry for the young fellow. I don''t think I can stay quiet."

    At Vikir''s words, Marquis de Sade shook his head with a sad expression.

    It didn''t take Vikir long to realize why he was saying this.

    "...!"

    Something was furiously chasing after the gulper eel as it slowly drifted along the current.

    Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-

    A terrifying sound began to emanate from beyond the ckness.

    At first nce, it sounded like a ship''s bellows, but it was far too high-pitched for that.

    Could this be the voice of the legendary Siren?

    Even the eels that had been swimming around twisted in pain.

    This unidentifiable sound filled the void of the sea floor.

    Vikir sensed that the creator of the sound was near.

    "I think it''s Orca."

    Marquis de Sade smirked.

    Then, beyond the transparent flesh of the eel''s body, something massive emerged.

    A body with a ck luster, white spots clearly visible even through the darkness.

    Muscles packed tightly throughout, powerful dorsal fins, forearms and legs bared beneath a tattered coat of fur.

    Orca. He transformed into a strange body and once again blocked Vikir''s path.

    " ...Are you a member of the Killer Whale (Orca) type Beastman?"

    Vikir spoke to himself in a low voice.

    Just as D''Ordume had transformed into the form of a saltwater crocodile earlier, Orca had a simr constitution.

    He grasped the chain and club at the end of his long tail, which had slipped out of his coat, with a wed hand.

    "SADE! You''re never going outside!"

    Orca''s hissing voice was clear even in these murky depths.

    In the midst of this hopeless sea, Orca had met his match.

    The worst of all fears hade true.

    Marquis de Saad chuckled.

    "Onnd, maybe, but underwater, it''s suicide to take on that old man."

    "...What do you propose?"

    "Well, shamelessly, I''d like to ask you what you think?"

    Marquis de Sade was secretly indicating that he would follow Vikir''s lead.

    Vikir said inly.

    "You owe me a debt. How will you repay me?"

    "Pushishishi...."

    Marquis of Sadeughed wordlessly, then held up three fingers.

    "The people of the Sade family will repay a favor threefold, and our enemies three thousandfold. You owe me one life, so I will repay you with three."

    "...."

    "Give me three names of those you wish to kill. Whoever they are, I will kill them for you."

    Marquis de Sade narrowed one eye at the end, saying, ''If only we can get out safely to the ground.''

    Vikir nodded silently.

    jilkkeun-

    With that, Vikir tied Sady''s whip around his waist.

    Then he tied the other around Marquis de Sade''s waist.

    "Hold on to these."

    Vikir ced the middle of the whip in Aiyen''s hand.

    Sady, immobilized by the after-effects of the demonization, asked.

    "Are you going to out?"

    "There is no other way."

    Vikir said, looking into Aiyen''s eyes.

    Aiyen looked back at Vikir with uneasy eyes.

    "I''d rather go out, Husby."

    "You drive the eels, it''s safer that way."

    "I don''t want to be separated again. How did we ever get back together...."

    "It''s important to hold the line."

    Vikir spoke in a serious tone, and Aiyen bowed her head deeply.

    Then she looked up, biting her lip so hard it bled.

    "Never. I will never let go."

    "That''s enough."

    Vikir stood up.

    Then, through the mouth of the gulper eel, he threw himself into the deep.

    To cross the final gateway to the surface.

    * * *

    The pressure of the water at 10,000 meters was beyond his imagination.

    Even Vikir''s stats, the protection of the River Styx, and his body, which had reached the Supreme Realm, could not withstand it.

    ''I can see why the demons didn''t cross this ce untilte in the War of Destruction.

    A pressure that would crush an entire body just by being present.

    It''s like hundreds of elephants on an egg.

    ''This is why the Marquis de Sade asked for help.

    Vikir nced sideways.

    He could see Marquis de Sade, with a whip tied around his waist, gasping for air.

    Just then.

    Huuuuk-

    An invisible pressure began to distort the front.

    A tidal wave. On the surface of the water, it would have risen to enormous heights, but under the sea, it waspletely invisible.

    kwakwakwang!

    A vision swirling with a roar.

    Orca in the shape of a killer whale passes in front of him.

    ssaeaeg- ppeoeog!

    Suddenly, his vision blurred red.

    Vikir squinted, but it didn''t stop his face from being crushed.

    His skull felt like a grain of sand, the impact shattering his nose, cheekbones, and front teeth.

    It was like taking a full-swinging warhammer to the center of the face.

    ''...Is it a drop of water?''

    Orca was scooping up water from the distance with a wide, raked hand and throwing it back.

    It flew like a cannonball, aimed at Vikir and Marquis de Sade.

    However.

    peoeong!

    Vikir stretched out his sword and sliced the flying water droplet diagonally.

    Additionally, the orca''s location was detected based on the direction and angle of the water droplet flying.

    ...sh!

    Decarabia on the chest narrowed its eyes and shot out a red light.

    For a moment, the surroundings were illuminated.

    "Oh. You can do that?"

    [You think so little of me.]

    A radius of a dozen meters lit up with the haughty re of Decarabia.

    Then he could clearly see Orca''s figure in front of him.

    Dressed in a warden''s uniform and coat, he held a club in his hand.

    It looked like a half-and-half killer whale and a human.

    "Get lost!"

    Orca swung the club in his hand.

    A massive tsunami erupted, crushing the space around them.

    But Vikir was confident.

    "If I know the direction, I can stop it."

    The mana ebbed away, revealing Decarabia''s true form.

    Red Inverted Pentagram. Wailing Wall.

    Although it consumes a lot of mana, its defense is a solid shield.

    It blocked all of Orca''s ranged attacks.

    Kugugugung!

    If anything, Orca''s attacks only made Aiyen''s gulper eel go faster and faster.

    Vikir and Marquis de Sade, connected by whip rope, also rose upwards faster and faster.

    "...These bastards."

    Orca eventually changed his attack method.

    Closebat. The most primitive and surest way to attack: lunging in with a club and beating them down.

    And that''s what Vikir and the Marquis de Sade wanted, too.

    A monstrous whale, tearing through the turbulent currents.

    Vikir drew his magic sword, Beelzebub, and Marquis de Sade raised a sword of unknown origin to meet Orca.

    The powers of the three came together once more.

    Vikir''s ck sun, Marquis de Sade''s serpentine aura, and the tsunami of Orca''s club all came together in a fierce collision.

    kwakwakwakwakwa!

    A giant whirlpool formed in the sea.

    The sword trajectories of Vikir and Marquis de Sade formed the upperyer of the vortex, and the tsunami of Orca''s club formed the loweryer, meeting in the center.

    ...kwakwang! kkwaleuleung!

    With a thunderous crack, the shockwave stretched out in all directions, tearing the surrounding sea to shreds.

    As the water and air reentered the empty space created by the ripping of the waves, violent currents formed, building up the space around them.

    The pressure, raging in all directions, crushed and shattered everything, cliffs and rocks alike.

    "...!"

    A thick line of blood sprouted on Vikir''s forehead.

    His instincts, sharpened by having crossed so many lines of fire, were giving him a cold assessment of the current situation.

    ''Die.''

    Never win.

    As long as Orca is under the sea, it is no different from a god.

    He can still breathe underwater, and he moves much faster with ever more powerful muscles.

    He could shoot out sound waves to see everything for miles around, and he could unleash a tsunami without moving to take out his enemies at great distances.

    Moreover, on this harsh sea floor, in an environment where everything was unstable, to stand against him was like a worm against a beast.

    Marquis de Sade sensed it, too, and smirked.

    ''Is this going to kill me?''

    ''....''

    Even before Vikir''s regression, Marquis de Sade attempted to break out of Nouvelle Vague, only to be stopped and killed by Orca.

    Even with Vikir by his side now, it seemed unlikely that fate could be reversed.

    The wheels of causality were turning.

    Vikir was just a mere mere mole standing in its way.

    The moment.

    "...."

    "...."

    Vikir and Marquis de Sade''s gazes locked together.

    As if in a pact, they both moved their hands to snap the whip at their waist.

    "No!"

    In the distance, Aiyen, who was driving the gulper eel, shouted, but it was toote.

    The current rushed even more violently, pushing the gulper eel upward.

    Those who must go must go, and those who must stay must stay.

    At the same time.

    "...!"

    Orca felt something.

    Two men who had chosen to remain in the depths of the sea.

    The momentum of Vikir and Marquis de Sade hadpletely shifted.

    It was sharp enough to make even the mighty Orca break out in a cold sweat.

    ...at that very moment.

    "!?"

    The bnce between the three warriors in the darkness of the deep sea was shattered.

    A strange thing that was difficult to exin rationally.

    ...It was, what can only be described as, luck.

    (tl/n: plot armor)

    Vikir, who had never been blessed with much luck in his entire life, could not help but feel somewhat bewildered.

    ... To properly exin this phenomenon, we need to go back a few seconds.

    kuleuleuleuleug! kudeudeudeudeug!

    A pir of fire erupted when Poseidon was activated.

    It was like a residual eruption from the condensation of volcanic power.

    The intense heat surged as if it were going to explode, but it was blocked by the ''Gate of Good and Evil'', the final gateway to the Nouvelle Vague, and was trapped and unable to escape until now.

    But now.

    One by one, the chains and pulleys securing the gate broke and destroyed, causing the Gate of Good and Evil to heat up to its limit.

    ...Ting! ...Ta-aang! ...Tuung!

    All the chains connected to the Nouvelle Vague were broken.

    Kabooom!

    The Gate of Good and Evil was thrown up into the air like the cap of a champagne bottle that had been shaken to its limit.

    The Gate of Good and Evil was sted open by the immense pressure.

    70 meters in diameter, 5 meters thick and weight 6535 tons. Made of a mythril and adamantium alloy, it flew like a bottle cap at the end of an exploding champagne stem.

    And this huge and heavy lump of alloy, which had randomly and identally bounced away, ended up heading towards Orca, who was confronting him while turning his back on the true nature of Nouvelle Vague.

    The direction of the wheel of fate is unpredictable.

    ...peoeog!

    Orca fell forward as this huge object passed by his head out of nowhere.

    Red blood spurted out.

    The monster whale was struck in the head by a sudden impact, and was quickly caught in the current and sank like a piece of trash.

    "...?"

    Marquis de Sade''s mouth dropped open in disbelief.

    But that was not the reaction he saw in Orca.

    ...kwakwang!

    The Gate of Good and Evil flew off into the distance, smashing into a corner of the cliff before rolling back down.

    kudeudeudeudeudeudeudeudeudeu-

    With the Gate of Good and Evil broken through, Nouvelle Vague''s downfall began in earnest.

    A castle submerged in water.

    The space between the ck bricks began to glow red.

    In the beginning, Nouvelle Vague was built by digging into the interior of an extinct volcano, and now that the volcano is active again, everything is over.

    The Iron Fortress, a castle with a long history that has never shown any ws, has now be like a cork blocking a bottle of champagne that is about to burst.

    Its body is corroded and crumbling.

    The great pir of fire that broke through the Gate of Good and Evil was only the beginning.

    The crackling pir of fire soon turned blue at the base, and then expanded greatly in the second and third waves, instantly expanding in size.

    ...! ...! ...! ...! ...!

    The explosion was so loud, far beyond the range of human hearing, that it seemed as if the entire ocean had been blown away.

    It was the beginning of a great eruption that would easily surpass 10,000 meters deep and extend dozens of kilometers into the sky.

 Chapter 419: Goodbye Nouvelle Vague (3)

    <h4>Chapter 419: Goodbye Nouvelle Vague (3)</h4>

    The Nouvelle Vague volcano has erupted.

    A tremendous explosion. The momentum was such that it seemed as if the entire sea was being lifted up with it.

    The pir of fire that blew away the Gate of Good and Evil immediately turned blue, then doubled, tripled, quadrupled... hundreds of times in thickness and size.

    As the pir of fire soared, secondary and tertiary currents formed around it, and a gigantic column of water rose up to envelop it.

    A tsunami so powerful that it has never been seen before in human history.

    It was a major tectonic shift that would have devastating effects on the sea and all life on earth.

    * * *

    A few minutes before the Nouvelle Vague crater erupted.

    Vikir saw Nouvelle Vague''s iconic Gate of Good and Evil blown away.

    The power of the explosion was evident in the way the massive mass of alloy blew off like a bottle cap.

    ''... But that won''t be the end of it.''

    Soon, a second, third, fourth, and hundreds of shock waves will hit this ce one after another.

    And then it''s all over.

    ''I hope Aiyen is safe.''

    Vikir nced back.

    The gulper eel was already out of sight.

    The strong current created by Orca pushed its back, so it probably drifted to a safe ce.

    He could only hope so.

    Finished with his thoughts, Vikir turned his head again.

    ...uleuleung! kwakwang!

    Lightning was raging at the bottom of the deep sea.

    Tsunamis raging on a scale that could easily destroy a country.

    In the face of this vast maelstrom of chaos, humans were nothing more than insignificant grains of sand.

    Then.

    togtog-

    A hand tapped Vikir on the shoulder.

    It was the Marquis de Sade, looking into Vikir''s eyes as if to ask him what he would do.

    Vikir tried to think of a way to survive in this extreme situation.

    Soon there was a tremendous explosion.

    It will be followed by a massive upward current that will sweep away everything here.

    Then.

    "...!"

    Suddenly, something caught Vikir''s eye.

    The Gate of Good and Evil.

    A giant disc, the symbol of Nouvelle Vague.

    It had been struck by the full force of Poseidon''s power, and yet it remained unbroken.

    It was dented in the center, but not cracked.

    It just bounced off because all the chains around it were broken.

    Vikir recalled the vault of the Bourgeois in his mind.

    The one Belial had crafted, too, forged from mythril and orharcon alloy.

    Despite its size, it had withstood an attack by the entire Pitbull Knights for two hours.

    But what about the Gate of Good and Evil?

    The strongest gate that no one has ever been able to break through.

    Even Poseidon''s first st had only managed to make a small dent.

    Vikir moved instinctively.

    ''Uhh,e with me!''

    The Marquis de Sade iled his limbs in a frenzy and followed Vikir''s lead.

    Then, reaching the frantic, shaking ground, Vikirnded on the Gate of Good and Evil that hung over the walls of Nouvelle Vague.

    Beside him, the pir of fire grew blue.

    It will soon rise in power and engulf everything here, sweeping everything upward.

    Vikir intended to stay close to this Gate of Good and Evil then.

    Like a cork on a gushing stem of champagne, he nned to cling to it and get out to the surface.

    ''Are you insane?''

    Even the Marquis de Sade''s mouth dropped open in disbelief.

    But there was no other option.

    The oxygen would soon run out, and there was no other way to get to the surface from 10,000 meters below.

    ''We have to find a way to stay alive.''

    Of course, the chances of survival are less than 1%, less than 0.001%.

    But it''s better than zero. You have to try anything you can, right?

    Vikir made his way to the hollow in the center of the Gate of Good and Evil and took a seat.

    He imbued Decarabia with mana.

    [...human].

    Dekarabia realized Vikir''s n.

    He would hold the Gate of Good and Evil like a surfboard at the top of the st.

    ''You hold the pressure from above.''

    Vikir''s strategy was simple.

    Like a sandwich, the pressure would be minimized by spreading out the Gates of Good and Evil on the bottom and the protective shield of Decarabira on top.

    The dome-shaped shield of Decarabia should be able to withstand the terrifying pressure from above.

    The problem is, Vikir doesn''t have enough mana to maintain that level of defense.

    ''If that''s the problem, I can help.''

    Marquis de Sade said quickly from the side.

    He seemed worried that Vikir would leave him behind.

    ''I wonder how much more interesting things would be on the ground. Please take me with you!''

    Marquis de Sade took Vikir''s hand and begged.

    Vikir nodded, feeling the purity and quality of mana flowing through their sped hands.

    But even so, their chances of survival were slim.

    Decarabia''s defenses were reliable, but even with Vikir and Marquis de Sade''sbined mana, there was no telling how long they could hold out.

    ...Just then.

    Thud.

    A palm came up over the edge of the Gate of Good and Evil.

    ck webbed feet can be seen between the thick fingers that are imbued with strong power.

    ''...Take me.''

    A bloodied old man sprawled his upper body across the disc.

    He stared at Vikir with his one eye, which had just burst from the impact.

    Marquis de Sade asked in disbelief.

    ''Are you insane? Did you forget we were just fighting?''

    ''I am sane. I remember clearly.''

    With that, Orca no longer looked at Marquis de Sade.

    His gaze was fixed solely on Vikir.

    ''I cannot die here.''

    ''....''

    Vikir felt the strong, unyielding determination in Orca''s gaze.

    ''Oh no! I don''t think I''d be able to carry that old man!''

    ''I would be far more trustworthy than a heinous criminal.''

    Marquis de Sade and Major General Orca were still arguing sharply, even through their bloodied bodies.

    Vikir looked at them and thought of the original history.

    ''... Causality has been twisted.''

    Marquis de Sade escaped from prison muchter, during thetter stages of the War of Destruction.

    Sady, who has gathered forces from outside, uses the three works she had infiltrated in Nouvelle Vague to open the Gate of Good and Evil and rescue his grandfather, Marquis de Sade.

    Intrigued by the news that thend is in mes and that the age of war has arrived, Marquis de Sade kills BDISSEM and incites all the prisoners to start a massive riot.

    Orca and the guards, who were distracted by the demonic army that wasing in from outside at the time, missed Marquis de Sade''s prison escape.

    Nouvelle Vague is about to fall to the demons, and the worst prisoner escapes just in time.

    Faced with the possibility of defeating the demon army and allowing Sade to escape at the same time, Orca is forced to make an extreme choice.

    He activates the Poseidon he''s been studying since discovering it during the construction of Level Ten.

    In the process, Orca triggered the great eruption of the Nouvelle Vague, annihting countless demonic forces and Marquis de Sade before ascending to the surface and joining the Human Alliance.

    And now, Orca, covered in blood, was begging Vikir for mercy.

    ''Believe me. This world has turned into hell. It''s barely a shadow of its former self, and I''ve seen it.''

    Orca begged Vikir, banging his head on the Gate of Good and Evil.

    ''Save me. And take me with you. I will definitely be helpful in dealing with monsters.''

    Vikir stared at Orca for a long moment.

    And then.

    ''...Ok.''

    He nodded with a short reply.

    The words were barely out of his mouth before Orca was on top of the Gate of Good and Evil.

    ''Ew, it''s narrow as hell, and the old distracted man is a...''

    Marquis de Sade grunted in disapproval, but Major General Orca shrugged it off and took his ce beside Vikir.

    Vikir, Night Hound.

    Marquis de Sade of the 47 Man Riot.

    Orca, Warden of Nouvelle Vague.

    As the three of them stood together, a red inverted pentagram was drawn above them.

    Decarabia materializes in the form of a hemisphere and brings the tips of its five legs to the Gate of Good and Evil.

    ''If the Gate of Good and Evil cannot hold, we will all die. If the mana that fuels Decarabia runs out, we all die.''

    At Vikir''s words, both Marquis de Sade and Major General Orca, who had been infusing mana into each of his shoulders, nodded stiffly.

    The symbol of Nouvelle Vague, the Gate of Good and Evil.

    The only thing indestructible in this great chaos.

    Vikir used it as the base, and the Wailing Dome of Decarabia as the ceiling and walls.

    And now, the time of judgment hase.

    o-ooooo...

    The space around them began to warp and scream.

    The heavy energy felt from the ground, and before they know it, it speeds up and rushes towards them.

    Directly below, towards the soles of their feet!

    kkwakwang!

    The first explosion, an eardrum-splitting st, was heard by everyone.

    ...! ...! ...! ...!

    The second and third explosions that followed were so far beyond the range of human hearing that they seemed merely static.

    Both the Marquis de Sade and Major General Orca were perplexed.

    Anxiety, crisis, tension, nervousness, excitement, and climax like nothing they had ever felt before, even after a lifetime of life of gambling and war.

    It was truly an unreasonable number that they haven''t seen in a long time.

    And then.

    The Gate of Good and Evil floated upward.

    A single coin of insignificant value was swept away by a strong wind, casually and unceremoniously.

    But the three people on it were literally experiencing hell.

    "...!"

    "...!"

    "...!"

    The pressure felt like his body was being crushed, the sensation of being turned alive into paste.

    Vikir poured all of the mana that Marquis de Sade and Major General Orca were pumping into him into Decarabia''s shields.

    At the same time, Beelzebub squeezed the basilisk''s regenerative powers to the limit.

    udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug-udeudeug...!

    The bones, flesh, muscles, and blood of the entire body were being pressed to their limits by a terrifying pressure that would make even a danger level S-rank monster scream.

    [...Human!]

    [...Up!]

    [...Here we go!]

    The sound of Decarabia''s shouts echoed faintly in his ears amidst the inaudible but unmistakable roar.

    Suddenly, a voice sticks in Vikir''s mind.

    He doesn''t know why, but the words he''d spoken when he was promoted to Major suddenly came back to him.

    ''I''m going to put everything I have on the line, and I''m going to transform Nouvelle Vague.''

    A n he''d had since he walked into Nouvelle Vague.

    It was realized perfectly. It really has made a huge difference.

    "...."

    Vikir drew a faint arc around the corner of his mouth.

    It''s called (Do your best to wait for destiny).

    He had done all he could as a human being.

    He''s done his best, done it perfectly.

    All that remains is for the heavens to decide.

    And so Vikir goes to meet the heavens.

    He is shooting out to ask Sky(Heaven), whom he has not seen for nearly four years, about the future and His aplishment.

    ...Toward the ground, 10,000 meters above!

 Chapter 420: How to Live as a Wandering Knight (1)

    <h4>Chapter 420: How to Live as a Wandering Knight (1)</h4>

    Above Ground. In a remote vige in the southern continent, ''Wakewack''.

    This vige, which had always been warm and humid and had abundant fruit crops, had been suffering from unprecedented drought and famine in recent decades, even hundreds of years.

    The drought is so extreme that the ground is parched and cracked, and the trees and grasses are not only dying, but burning to a crisp.

    Wildfires of epic proportions have scorched the mountains and dried up thekes, decimating the wild animals and aquatic species.

    Open dungeons everywhere are causing monster damage to explode.

    Whiiiiing-

    A hot, dry wind carries ash.

    It blows from the opposite mountain range, which has been reduced to a pile of charcoal by a forest fire.

    These pungent ash blowing in with the wind sucked up every bit of moisture that was left, further impoverishing people''s spirits.

    ...And.

    Across the deste wastnd, a wanderer made his way.

    Dull ck armor peeked out from beneath a tattered ck cloak.

    A gue doctor''s mask with a long stork''s beak hung below his waist, and a long object wrapped in bandages was carried on his back.

    cheolkeog- cheolkeodeog-

    Every time he took a step that seemed arduous, the sound of the joints of the armor clicking together rang out faintly.

    Wandering Knight. Speechless. This is a group of people that can be seen often, if notmonly, in these difficult times.

    The ck-armored wanderer arrived in Wakewack with weary steps.

    He headed straight for the nearest tavern, pushing open the dried-out wooden door and taking a seat in a corner.

    Between famine, drought, forest fires, and monster damage, the town''s food situation was not good.

    It was reflected in the drinks and snacks served at the tavern.

    Two handfuls of boiled beans on a bare te, a ss of steaming beer.

    At least it was a tavern, and you got what you paid for.

    The Wandering Knight checked the mask strapped to his waist and drank his beer in silence.

    Then.

    Amotion began to emanate from the tavern''s center table.

    Two men, apparently vigntes, were having a conversation.

    Since ancient times, taverns have been a hotbed of rumors, both past and present.

    And many would agree that a group of men with nothing better to do than get drunk and argue about politics.

    "So. Are you conservative or progressive?"

    "Well, I''m always a progressive. What about you?"

    "W-what are you asking? I am a conservative, a conservative!"

    They argue about their views on the current state of affairs on the continent.

    "Oh, of course the throne should go to the right man! Isn''t it only right that the First Prince be crowned? Don Quixote and Usher and Leviathan are doing a great job!"

    "I think the Second Prince is fine, and I can understand the choices of Baskerville, Morg, Bourgeois, and Quovadis."

    "Eh- So you''re saying they were right to stage a coup?"

    "No, it''s not a coup, It''s just a fight to stand in line. Since it is a political fight, it is correct to call it a civil war."

    "So. Is it right for the Seven Families of the Old Country to be fighting a civil war at this time, and the Second Prince they''re crowning as Emperor hasn''t appeared in front of the people in decades? I don''t even know if he exists anymore!"

    "Ugh, you''re being disrespectful. Isn''t it the same for the First Prince''s faction to be waging a civil war in these times? Why do you me it on the Second Prince''s faction?"

    The current situation on the continent was extremelyplicated.

    Aside from the massive wildfires spreading across the Empire, and the devastating drought, famine, and monster damage, the political powers were engaged in a fierce civil war among themselves.

    The Seven Pirs of the Empire.

    Baskerville the Iron Blooded Swordsman, Morg the Mage Sect, Quovadis the Faithful, Don Quixote the Spearmaster, Usher the Archon, Leviathan the Poisonous Cancer, and Bourgeois the Tycoon.

    Since the Emperor''s death, each of these Seven Families has been in bitter conflict over who should be the next Emperor.

    The Old Testament factions Quovadis, Don Quixote, Usher, and Leviathan were in favor of First Prince Jack Meridew as Emperor.

    The New Testament faction of Quovadis, Baskerville, Mor, and Bourgeois was supporting the Second Crown Prince, Ralph.

    Both crown princes were descended from the founding emperor and possessed the power of prophecy, and were the recipients of an oracle that said, ''One of them will destroy the world, the other will save the world''.

    Therefore, who would ascend to the throne would be a matter of concern for all the people of the Empire.

    If the wrong crown prince became emperor, the empire would be ruined.

    "Of course the first crown prince should ascend to the throne, it is only natural that he is the legitimate eldest son and has continued to appear in front of the people of the empire over the years, leading by example in everything he does. Even in our family, the only hope is for the eldest son!"

    "Haha- your ruined family is the same as the Imperial Family? And in your family, the second child is much smarter."

    "What! Why are you talking about my family!"

    "Because you mentioned your family first, and I''m wondering if it''s realistically possible for the First Crown Prince to ascend to the throne. With the old faction of the Quovadis virtually copsed, it''s generally epted that the tide has turned in favor of the Second Crown Prince, and from what I''ve heard, Don Quixote and Usher are the most talked about members of the family right now."

    "What, Don Quixote and Usher? Why, is there some sort of controversy?"

    "It''s not so much a controversy as a rumor... that the current head of the family is ill, and I hear it''s very serious. It could be today or tomorrow."

    "Lord Cervantes the Spear King and Lord Rodrik the Archon? Nonsense! Didn''t we see them in action thest time a demon appeared in the Imperial Capital? I saw them with my own two eyes! They''re superhumans! They''re Masters! They''re not going to sumb to illness!"

    "Well, I''ve heard it through the rumors. After all, they''ve been out of service for years now. From what I''ve heard, Don Quixote''s younger brother is the current regent, and Usher''s younger sister is the current regent."

    "Hmm, I''ve heard that, but I''ve also heard that Don Quixote and Usher don''t have many members of their own family, so they rely heavily on people from the outside of the family. Is that why?"

    The argument between the two men was superficial, but it summarized the state of affairs on the continent.

    1. Don Quixote, Usher, Leviathan, and the Old Testament faction of the Quovadis, led by Prince Jack Meridew.

    2. Baskerville, Morg, Bourgeois, and the New Testament faction of Quovadis, led by Prince Ralph.

    Now that the Quovadis Old Testament faction was gone, the civil war was intensifying.

    This confrontation, which had originally been going on for a very long time, began to re up in earnest just a few years ago due to the ''Night Hound'' incident.

    Justification. Night Hound served its purpose to the Second Crown Prince Faction.

    The fight was over whether Night Hound was evil or a righteous, if somewhat radical, man who overthrew a demon hiding among humans.

    The other Families were outraged by the fact that three of the demons in the convoy happened to be members of the First Crown Prince''s faction.

    Isabe of Baskerville, Banshee of Morg, Lovebad of Bourgeois, and Mozgus of Quovadis, used Pedro of Don Quixote, Isolde of Usher, and Thomas of Leviathan of being demons.

    Their statements were perfect, and they had proof.

    ''I demand a retrial for Night Hound.''

    But the ims of the Morg Banshee were rejected.

    Don Quixote, Usher, and Leviathan immediately attempted to cover their tracks, and suddenly, even the First Prince was up front in denial.

    ''To doubt them is to doubt me.''

    It was the First Crown Prince''s unusually hardline stance that ultimately led to this protracted civil war.

    But the Second Crown Prince''s faction was not without gains from the trial.

    The second crown prince, who was rumored to have disappeared, was able to cover hisck of influence with a powerful rationale.

    The Baskervilles, Morg, Bourgeois, and Quovadis were united under a very basic, ethical code of rejection of those in league with demons.

    Seven families, each rivaling the power of a kingdom, entered the civil war.

    They began to tighten their grip on their territories and stopped all trade with the enemy camp.

    The civil war was raging.

    To add insult to injury, the people were already suffering from drought, wildfires, monster damage, and other natural disasters.

    Public sentiment was at an all-time low.

    However, there was also a rumor that was a ray of hope for the people.

    "Let''s stop talking about this."

    "That''s right, it''s all for the high and mighty."

    "More than that, have you heard the rumor?"

    "What rumor?"

    "The vigntes roaming the continent."

    "Aren''t we the vigntes?"

    "This guy! not a lowly vignte like us. I''m talking about Wandering Knights, who operates all over the Empire."

    "Wandering Knights? In this day and age, that''s just a rumor."

    "No! Listen!"

    A hopeful rumor that soothes the hearts of people devastated by all kinds of natural disasters.

    It was a story about the NIGHT WALKERS, a civilian group of vigntes.

    "They travel thousands of kilometers a day, ying monsters, and they''re supposed to be incredibly powerful."

    "Does that make sense?"

    "No! I heard they showed up and destroyed a horde of monsters when I went to the city across the street! Is that all? They offered food, water, and God''s blessing if they followed them, and they took refugees in droves. Half the city''s poption followed them."

    "If there are such righteous people, why don''t they show up in our town? I''m afraid we''ll be killed by the gnolls."

    "...Well, maybe it''s because there are fewer people and the damage area is sorge?"

    "Yes, let''s say it is, because we need that hope to survive."

    The only force that has the support of the people.

    They are the vigntes, the Night Walkers.

    A group of mysterious figures who have rallied under the slogan, "Even the strongest darkness is beaten back by the weakest light.

    They traveled across the continent under the somewhat childish nicknames of "Saint of the Night," "Knight of the Night," "Sniper of the Night," "Warrior of the Night," "Wealthy of the Night," and "Queen of the Night," respectively.

    And like the old oral fairy tale ''The Pied Piper,'' they whispered salvation with sweet words and took countless people to distant ces.

    People were scared even as they waited for them.

    They were hopeful but wary.

    Longing, curiosity, hope, anxiety, vignce, fear... or just in snorting at the sound of nothingness, they still follow them today.

    And then.

    ...bang!

    The tavern door shattered open and a vignte soldier rushed in.

    "Raid, It''s a raid! let''s go!"

    At the same time, the horns of the monsters'' invasion began to echo throughout the vige.

    Tuuuuuu-

    Even before the sound could be heard, the people in the tavern were on their feet.

    The two soldiers who had just been arguing over politics quickly grabbed their swords and spears and ran, while the tavern owner put everything aside and took refuge in the cer.

    "Everyone, get to the underground cer!"

    The people in the tavern looked contemtive, but in a very familiar motion, they followed the tavern owner to the passageway below.

    ....

    The tavern was silent in an instant.

    ppigeudeog-

    It was at that time that the Wandering Knight, who had been sitting like a statue in the corner until now, moved.

 Chapter 421: How to Live as a Wandering Knight (2)

    <h4>Chapter 421: How to Live as a Wandering Knight (2)</h4>

    Tuuuuuu-!

    The sound of a horn rang out, announcing a monster invasion.

    The entire town was in a panic.

    It wasn''t just a horde of bandits or a wildfire.

    The enemy is monsters, not humans, and it''s not a matter of stealing money, food, or shelter, but of immediate danger to their lives.

    Moreover, the type of monster that is crossing the fence this time is a gnoll, a canine monster known for itsrge poption and ferocity.

    Grrrr...

    Soon, bizarre things begin to flood into the town.

    A voice that sounds like oil slowly boiling from a low temperature.

    The sound of scratching in the parched earth.

    Stooped back, vaguely bipedal walking, sharp teeth and ws, and hideously shiny eyes

    A horde of gnolls, the most damaging species to humankind, has invaded the town.

    The gnolls were also severely malnourished, their fur dry andcking in shine.

    Their eyes were bloodshot, and the saliva that dripped from their mouths reeked of greed.

    The monsters are tired and weary of the Great Famine.

    The ongoing drought has left them with nothing to eat or drink, and the wildfires that have raged across the empire have drastically reduced their living space.

    The lesser monsters, unable topete with the other monsters for food, have been forced to descend upon the human poption in record numbers.

    This group of gnolls here were swept away by the tide of fate.

    Kyaaak-!

    A gnoll began to ransack the house.

    Cloth was torn, wood was broken. Everything that had been touched by human hands was being ravaged.

    It stretched its long nose and tracked the freshest of the smells to the floor.

    At that time.

    ...kwang!

    The closet door shattered, and a man burst out from inside.

    "Hey, get away from me!"

    The man raised a pitchfork and brought it down on Gnoll''s head.

    kkig-

    Gnoll was dead on the spot, with a shattered skull.

    The problem was, it was followed by two, three, four, five, six... so many gnolls that it was pointless to count.

    "Honey, run out the back door, go to the basement shed in the backyard!"

    Before the man could finish his shout, the side door opened and a woman came running out with three children.

    The man quickly caught up to her and ran after her.

    Threatening the gnolls, who were excited by the smell of blood, with a pitchfork.

    Backyard. A shed door to the basement is visible.

    The man quickly opened the door and went inside with the woman.

    Then.

    "Uaaahhh- Mom!"

    A scream erupted from behind them.

    Before the man and woman could turn around, they realized who the scream belonged to.

    Two children had entered the basement bunker, and where they all turned, there was a little girl who was just getting up after falling to the ground.

    Her clothes were torn at the sides, and the blood was clearly visible staining them red.

    "The youngest!"

    The man shouted, but it was toote.

    If they leave now, everyone will die. Closing this door as soon as possible is the only way to save his wife and the two remaining children.

    What must it be like for a parent to give up their child right before their eyes?

    "...."

    The man and woman hesitated. Chewing on his lips, unaware that he was bleeding, he made a decision in that brief moment that he would regret no matter how many times he turned around in his life.

    ...BANG!

    The door mmed shut. Reality is always unavoidable. And so it was with this closed door.

    The girl cried out and fell to her knees, scratching at the door. So desperately that her fingernails were peeling off.

    As her father had always nagged her, she should have put the nail sticking out of the side of the front door back in properly.

    If only she had, she wouldn''t have fumbled with her clothes on the nail just a moment ago.

    But regret is always toote.

    The girl cried out at the top of her lungs.

    "Mom! Dad! Open up! I''ll listen to you from now on! I won''t cry, I''ll eat less, I''ll clean up after myself, and I won''t fight with my sisters and brothers...!"

    Unfortunately, it wasn''t her parents and siblings who answered her plea, but the swarm of gnolls behind her.

    keuaaag-

    They lunged at the girl in the lead.

    Just as she was about to scream.

    peoeog-

    A pitchfork stuck in the gnoll''s mouth.

    "Youngest, hurry!"

    The man who had just opened the door fought off the gnolls.

    The woman also came out carrying an armful of bricks from the walls of the warehouse and was ring at the gnolls.

    The father is strong. Of course, the mother too.

    "Dad! Mom!"

    The little girl ran backward, tears streaming down her face.

    The father raised his pitchfork to face the gnolls.

    But no matter how strong parents are, they are not stronger than the world around them.

    Soon, the gnolls lunged at them, teeth and ws bared.

    Buuk-!

    Blood sttered as thick leather pants ripped open.

    It was the beginning of a family''s downfall.

    ...just then.

    peoeog-

    The father''s feet grew lighter.

    Gnoll''s head, hanging from his pants, shattered like a watermelon.

    "...uh?"

    The ce where the father''s nk gaze was directed was towards the front.

    Flutter-

    A ragged blood-red robe fluttered in the dry wind.

    The matte ck te armor was making an unpleasant metallic sound.

    The Wandering Knight. He appears out of nowhere, standing tall above the ground, facing the gnolls.

    "...There, there. Who are you?"

    The father asked, but the Wandering Knight did not answer.

    Instead.

    kwag-

    The long stick he was carrying on his back shifted in his hand.

    peoeong! ppagag!

    The heads of the gnolls around him exploded.

    A blue spear de was revealed within a piece of bandage that was torn with red blood.

    The liquid aura that symbolized the Graduator was sticky, drawing aplex trajectory in the air.

    Puff-puff-puff!

    A movement without waste.

    A skilled path forged by extreme battle experience.

    It was the skill of a seasoned warrior who had seen countless battlefields.

    The hood was lifted, revealing the face of the Wandering Knight.

    Although he had a young face, he had a sense of authority and an appearance that was an appropriate mix of two things that are usually difficult to coexist.

    His shoulders are broad like a bear''s and his waist is lean like a wolf''s.

    His body was optimized for battle, except for the absence of his left arm.

    Even with his one arm, he boasted ghostly spear skills.

    A single swing of his spear killed at least one enemy and crippled more than one.

    peoeog! peog! udeudeug! peo-eog!

    The sound of mincing meat and bones all at once. In no time, the backyard was covered in blood.

    But the gnolls'' messy groans were no longer audible.

    The one-armed Wandering Knight, who had neatly cleared away the group of monsters, brushed the blood off his spear.

    At that time. There was a hand pulling open the door to the basement.

    It was the girl who had almost never made it inside a moment ago.

    She called out to the Wandering Knight.

    "Mister! who are you?"

    "...."

    "My name is Shammua, and I was wondering if you could tell me who my benefactor is?"

    The Wandering Knight turned his head and looked back at the girl.

    Whether it was fearlessness or gratitude, the girl''s tears had been wiped away and she was looking at him with longing and curiosity.

    The Wandering Knight was just about to open his mouth to say something.

    Kyaaaaahhh-!

    Grrrrr!

    Kaung! Kaung!

    The sound of gnolls screaming outside the fence.

    Obviously, things aren''t over yet.

    The Wandering Knight took a short break and stood facing forward again.

    And then.

    A stter!

    The wooden fence shattered, and something huge burst into the backyard.

    It was three times the size of a normal gnoll, its fur standing on end all over its body, stained an unusual ck-green color.

    Oil-like fluids were dripping from its bloodshot eyes, and a sickening stench wafted through the air.

    Danger Rating: A

    Size: 3 meters

    Found in: All continents

    -Also known as ''Poison Gnoll'' or ''Deadly Poison Gnoll''

    This is an example of an abnormally evolved digestive system among gnolls.

    Most gnolls feed on carcasses, but the poison gnoll has evolved the ability to umte poison in its skin and saliva from the rotting flesh of its prey in its stomach.

    There is one gnoll in a colony of more than 300 individuals, and most seem to fulfill the role of leader.

    Poison Gnoll. A variant of the gnoll swarm. They possess a strength and ferocity that no normal gnoll can match.

    The family, thinking they were safe, cowered to the ground in fear at the sight of the Poison Gnoll''s fearsome form.

    However.

    The one-armed Wandering Knight merelyughed dryly.

    "...Poison Gnoll. Long time no see."

    His voice was dry and short.

    He radiated a blue aura that wavered like a tidal wave with his only arm.

    The spear he held tightly rolled up did not budge.

    Just before the girl behind him closed the door, drawn by her mother''s torch, the Wandering Knight spoke.

    "I belong to a vignte group called Night Walkers. My nickname is a bit cringe, but it''s ''Knight of the Night''."

    "...!"

    The girl''s ears perked up.

    The other side was a member of ''Night Walkers'', a vignte group rumored among the people these days.

    One of the beings of urban legend who were said to lead the weary to and of salvation, a paradise called the ''Ark''.

    The one-armed Wandering Knight, or ''Knight of the Night'' as he was known, smiled at the girl with a mischievous smile and narrowed one eye.

    "Name''s Tudor."

    And when he turned his head back to the front, his expression was extremely cold and chilly.

    "Nost name."

 Chapter 422: How to Live as a Wandering Knight (3)

    <h4>Chapter 422: How to Live as a Wandering Knight (3)</h4>

    ...Pow!

    The hard skeleton shattered and all the hot stuff inside spilled out onto the ground.

    The Poison Gnoll fell to the ground, spraying poisonous brain fluid, and after shaking its body for a while, it cooled down.

    The gnolls that had followed the Poison Gnoll into human territory also fell to the ground, all of them dead.

    Initially a single clean hole in the head or heart, the gnoll corpses piled up, their entrails and heads bursting open in a gruesome, messy mound that testified to the fierceness of the battle.

    Knight of the Night. Tudor, a wandering knight in ck te armor, sat atop the corpses of the gnolls, breathing heavily.

    "...It''s hard to get used to having one arm."

    The expression on his face has worn away as he continues to march, constantly exhausted and tired from theck of sleep.

    Muttering to himself in a dry voice, Tudor suddenly realizes that his tone and manner of speaking reminds him of someone he remembers, then smiled.

    "Perhaps that''s how he''s always lived his life, and that''s why he''s so cold and dull in personality...."

    Vikir. The Night Hound.

    It had been quite some time, but his face and voice were still fresh in his memory.

    Tudor remembered his old friend, expelled from the Academy long ago, now imprisoned in a prison in a faraway ce.

    Throbbing-

    And every time he did, pain shot through his severed left arm.

    Don Quixote''s eldest son, the next in line to be head of the family, had abandoned the family name and turned his back on his family.

    He left his severed left arm at home.

    "...."

    Tudor recalled a story he''d heard in a tavern before the fight with the gnolls.

    ''I also hear that Don Quixote and the Ushers are the subject of much gossip in town, and that the current patriarch isid up with an illness, a very serious one, I hear. See you today and tomorrow.''

    ''They''re superhumans! They''re masters! They are not the kind of people who will sumb to disease or something like that!''

    ''They''ve been out of active service for years now. From what I''ve heard, Don Quixote''s younger brother is the regent, and Usher''s younger sister is the regent.''

    ''Hmm, I''ve heard that, but I''ve also heard that Don Quixote and Usher didn''t have many members of their own families, so they relied on people from the outside world to help them. Is that why?''

    The sound of teeth grinding came out of Tudor''s mouth as he recalled the memory of that time.

    Grrrttt!

    Anger surges through him. A throbbing sensation in his missing left arm.

    Tudor remembered that night, the night of his escape from the family home, clearly.

    ...Uncle Passamonte, who had been involved in escorting Vikir to Nouvelle Vague.

    He had also vehemently advocated for the Nakajaniye Court of the Imperial Capital to sentence Vikir to death.

    After the trial, Tudor had visited Passamonte several times to discuss the demon controversy and Vikir''s punishment.

    Even then, he had doubts.

    Could his uncle, who had been so kind to him since he was a child, really be involved with the demon?

    The uncle who had taught him what chivalry, romance, and ambition meant?

    Es misi��n del verdadero caballero. Su deber. ?No! Su deber no. Su privilegio.

    -It is the task and duty of a true knight. No! Not your duty, but your privilege.

    So?ar lo imposible so?ar.

    -To dream the impossible dream.

    Vencer al invicto rival,

    -To defeat an invincible opponent,

    Sufrir el dolor insufrible,

    -To endure unbearable pain,

    Morir por un noble ideal.

    -To die for a noble ideal.

    Saber enmendar el error,

    -To know how to fix a wrong,

    Amar con pureza y bondad.

    -To love with purity and good will.

    Querer, en un sue?o imposible,

    -To fall in love in an impossible dream,

    Con fe, una estre alcanzar.

    -To have faith, to reach for the stars.

    When he closed his eyes, he could still hear his uncle''s voice in his ear as he recited verses from the epic poem.

    ... But that didn''t make him doubt Vikir.

    As far as Tudor knew, Vikir had never told a bluff.

    That was the kind of man he was.

    A friend who was close to his age, but like an older brother, sometimes even an elder brother, a trusted and reliable friend.

    He could never imagine that Vikir would ever im anything false.

    And then there was Professor Morg Banshee, a familiar face at Colosseo Academy.

    He may be a bit of a jerk and a pompous prick, but he''s a fierce principled man and never speaks up when he''s not sure about something.

    Tudor, a former student at the Academy, knew this well.

    So, the idea was to meet Passamonte face to face and investigate the facts.

    ...However, Tudor has not been able to even see Passamonte''s face properly in recent years.

    Passamonte, who had seeded his father as regent after his sudden illness, kept Tudor out of his life.

    Power struggles are amon urrence in high-ranking families withplex family histories.

    It''s amon, clich��d trope that''s always been part of fairy tales and legends.

    But when ites to his family, it''s a different story.

    During the vacation before Tudor graduation from the Academy, a secret civil war raged within the Don Quixote family.

    His uncle''s rebellion for control over the province.

    Tudor is forced to flee the family home to escape a wave of assassins.

    It wasn''t until a sword was drawn to his throat that Tudor knew for sure.

    Don Quixote''s family had already been eaten by the Pasamonte.

    That the sudden illness of his father, who was called the King of Spears, had been caused by a terrible conspiracy.

    ...And that in the end, Vikir, the old friend was right.

    Tudor fled through tears. Through the pain and humiliation of having his arm cut off on the way.

    As Tudor fled by boat, he remembered the words of Passamonte, who was at the head of the pursuing party, as he scowled at him.

    "Do you mean to abandon your father and run away, and yet you are the son of the Lion King?

    Enraged, Tudor plunged into a final, life-threatening battle.

    ...It would have definitely been like that if it hadn''t been for Bianca who appeared at the right time.

    To Tudor''s stubborn insistence that he could not leave his father behind, Bianca calmly replied.

    ''Retreating is not running away, and it is not wise to simply wait when danger outweighs hope. A wise man does not risk everything in one day, knowing to save today for tomorrow.''

    These were Vikir''sst words on the court of Nakajaniye in the center of the Imperial Capital.

    Tudor left the family, following in the footsteps of Bianca, who had turned her back on her family in the same situation.

    The heads of the Don Quixote family and the Usher family, who had tried to dere neutrality in the face of signs of civil war, have since disappeared from the world.

    The actual patriarch of Don Quixote and Usher family became Don Quixote La Mancha Passamonte and Usher Poe Madeline.

    They searched the entire continent under the pretext of finding missing young patriarchs, and Tudor and Bianca had to go on an arduous escape.

    The journey was arduous and dangerous, requiring them to prate severalyers of vast siegeworks and ovee countless guard posts.

    And the people who helped and epted Tudor and Bianca are the ''Nightwalkers'', a group of followers and vigntes who continue the legacy of the ''Night Hound''.

    "...."

    And now.

    Tudor, who had followed in the footsteps of the Night Hound and be a Knight of the Night, looked down on the town from above the corpses of the gnolls.

    The world had changed a lot.

    Famines, long droughts, giant wildfires raging across the empire, and hordes of monsters.

    The lives of humans had been squeezed to the bone, and it wasn''t something anyone learned about in textbooks.

    Arge man shoves a slender girl and rips a chunk of meat from a gnoll corpse.

    The strong extorted and robbed the weak, and treated them as if they were not human.

    -The truly strong are strong to the strong and weak to the weak.

    -The strong do not bully others because they can afford it, but the weak bully others to hide the fact that they are weak.

    A quote from the autobiography of ''Don Quixote La Mancha Alonso Quijano'', a man from the distant past, a true ancestor of Don Quixote the Spearman.

    But the romance of chivalric literature and the reality of life were diametrically opposed.

    The stronger you are, the more you bully others, and the weaker you are, the more unfair things you experience.

    However, the weak were not necessarily good and kind.

    The reality was much different than what they were taught in the Academy and within their families.

    It was not the strong who survived, but the strong who survived.

    Such was the world.

    Tudor had seen this kind of humanity many times before, and he could feel his own personality bing duller and more calloused as the battle raged on.

    It was a process of going from an aspiring hero to a battlefield veteran.

    And why?

    The more Tudor''s personality, speaking style, and voice be more and more simr to Vikir''s.

    "Hahaha- I shouldn''t even take on his way of speaking, that''s too stiff."

    Tudor smiled mischievously and then stood up.

    Just then.

    "...So, there."

    Someone shuffled to the side.

    Where Tudor turned his head, a girl stood.

    The same girl who had just escaped the gnoll attack.

    "Drink this!"

    The girl held out arge bowl of clear water and toasted bread sprinkled with herbs.

    Water and herbs in this time of need. Tudor felt his throat instantly tighten.

    "Can I ept something so precious?"

    "...Of course!"

    The girl, who had been worried that her gift might not be epted, replied with a wide smile.

    Tudor ate the bread and drink the water.

    He would have to travel a long way to get back to the Night Walkers'' hideout.

    When Tudor finished eating, he stood up and saw that quite a few people had gathered around him.

    "Knight, Knight of the Night, please take us with you!"

    "We have heard that following the Night Walkers will lead us to a ce where there is water, food, and God''s blessings!"

    "Please have mercy on us...."

    The people gathered are those who no longer have a ce to live due to gnoll raids, famine, and wildfires.

    At first nce, the crowd looked to be about 10% of the town''s poption.

    And Tudor nodded to them.

    "Follow me."

    This is why the Knight of the Night hade all this way in the first ce.

    A secret but not so secret ce where the Night Walkers gathered.

    ''Only there will fire and water escape, and only there will true salvation be found.''

    That is where thend of salvation in the new Book of Revtion exists.

    The mission was to move as many people as possible to the ark built by the ''Saint of the Night''.

 Chapter 423: The Night Walkers (1)

    <h4>Chapter 423: The Night Walkers (1)</h4>

    Tochka.

    A citadel located on a high teau in the Rocks Mountains of the Northern Continent.

    Its high, solid walls, deep moat, and towering cliffs surrounding it made it a natural fortress.

    However.

    This fortress, which was said to be able to fend off a hundred soldiers by one girl, was now a deserted, ownerless mountain.

    No wonder, another name for Tochka, the strongest fortress, is , the ''Crying Castle''.

    The name, which means "beheaded while crying"es from an ancient story of a general in the Warring States Period who was defeated by the enemy army while sitting-in in the fortress here.

    The young and talented general, trusting only in his own skills and military theories, waged a siege in this natural fortress, but the result was a disastrous defeat.

    Fortress Tochka was a massive fortress with impregnable defenses, but it had only one drawback: it was located on a teau filled with rocks in the dry climate of the northern hignds, and there was no water nearby for drinking.

    Because of the general who suffered from hunger due tock of water and opened the gate and escaped, the country eventually entered the path of destruction.

    Therefore, the king had no choice but to behead his favorite general ording to militaryw, and the nickname ''Crying Castle'' was given because the king swung his sword with tears in his eyes.

    The ominous legend of Crying Castle, a harsh environment where there is hardly any drinking water.

    As a result, this magnificent and sturdy fortress has be an unremarkable ce that is slowly being forgotten as the years go by.

    ... However.

    There is a group of people who operate out of this abandoned fortress that no one takes notice of.

    Night Walkers. They were ''those who walk the night''.

    ungseong-ungseong-

    The Tochka, which not long ago had been nothing more than a deste hignd fortress, was now bustling with people.

    Additions and renovations are everywhere.

    Pirs and watchtowers were being raised, and holes in the walls were being filled.

    Countless goats pulled carts loaded with food and water.

    Where the tents were pitched, refugees from all over the continent had gathered.

    They had all followed the Night Walkers to this ''Ark''.

    Famine, drought, wildfires, and monster outbreaks have disced them from their original homes.

    The sick are healed and the hungry are fed.

    Not enough to fill them to overflowing, but enough so that they no longer had to watch their children clutch at their empty bellies.

    The refugees who settled here all looked tired and exhausted, but there was a glimmer of hope in their eyes.

    They hade from a ce where they had left the unbelievers behind.

    They had traveled a long way, risking ridicule, mockery, and scorn, to follow a gleam of faith, and the oue was bright.

    At least here, they were blessed by priests and rationed food and water.

    It was a paradisepared to their old home, where they had to worry about food shortages, robberies, and monster attacks every day.

    Meanwhile.

    In the tents where the wounded and sicky, dozens of priests bustled about.

    One priest was tending to a refugee who had been crushed by a boulder while helping to repair the city walls.

    She took a deep breath and muttered.

    "Calm down, Lolita. This is just a simple recovery baptism, nothing to be afraid of, so don''t tremble."

    "Sister. My name is not Lolita."

    "I know. Lolita is my name."

    "...?"

    When a young nun, who doesn''t look like she has much experience, asks for God''s help with trembling hands.

    Swoosh-

    A hand gently grasped her hand from behind.

    "Our Lord Lun is willing to extend his hand to themb that groans in pain before his eyes."

    Sister Lolita turned her head in surprise at the experienced andpassionate voice.

    There stood Dolores, the ''Saint of the Night'', leader of the ''Night Walkers'', smiling.

    ''...it''s dazzling!''

    Lolita, the novice nun, was momentarily intimidated by the solemn,passionate, reverent, and beautiful figure.

    Then Dolores'' expression changed into a mischievous one for an instant.

    She whispered in a low voice that no one else could hear, only Lolita.

    "Don''t be afraid to draw on the divine power, draw on it as much as you can, and He will pay you back. In a time of crisis like this, the interest is cheap."

    The Old Testament priests taught her a good lesson.

    Lolita''s eyes narrowed at the familiarity in Dolores'' tone.

    "D-do you think a saint could say something like that?"

    "Of course."

    Dolores smiled and raised her two fists in encouragement, and Sister Lolita''s expression brightened.

    As if emboldened, she began to pray. She had done an excellent job of healing the patient.

    Dolores smiled as she watched the young sisters who had trusted her with their lives in the Quovadis family grow into young women.

    As it turns out, the flower of faith blooms most beautifully in the fiercest ces on the front lines.

    Then.

    A voice called to Dolores.

    "''Saint of the Night'', it''s been a long time!"

    A man can be seen beyond a herd of goats grazing on the hignds in the distance.

    A man of impable height and manly handsomeness.

    ck armor and blonde hair flowing in the wind, he was the epitome of the ideal wandering knight.

    He looked like a painting in a canvas, but his severed left arm was a reminder of the harsh reality.

    "''Knight of the Night''!"

    Dolores grinned at herrade in the distance.

    Tudor had returned.

    They had been senior and junior at the Colosseo Academy, and they had gotten along well within the Night Walkers.

    "I''ve brought a lot of new people with me."

    "We''ve graduated, just let it go."

    "Once a senior, always a senior."

    Dolores and Tudor were both early graduates of the Academy.

    As a result, their time together was fairly short, but Dolores still remembers Tudor''s school days vividly.

    After Vikir''s imprisonment at Nouvelle Vague, Tudor had be noticeably less talkative.

    The once cheerful, leadership, and romantic Tudor had be a quiet, sincere student who devoted himself only to training and studies.

    Something terrible happened to his family afterward that shaped him into the man he is today.

    Sancho the Warrior of the Night, Piggy the Gatekeeper of the Night, Bianca the Sniper of the Night, and the rest of his fellow academy ssmates, their cheerful smiles hiding an unimaginable amount of sadness and pain.

    ''Maybe, if I hadn''t met Vikir earlier, I would have been in the same situation as Tudor.''

    Dolores sympathized deeply with Tudor''s pain and grief, but she was also deeply grateful to Vikir for his early help in chipping away at the darkness of the Quovadis.

    No, the civil war would have been much more chaotic if Guilty and Humbert had lived,

    ''No, there would have been no civil war in the first ce.''

    Set, or rather Andromalius, lurking in Baskerville, the Ironblood Swordman.

    Seer��, hiding in Morg, the Mage Sect.

    Bartolomeo, no, Belial, who was lurking in hiding among the wealthy Bourgeois.

    If each of them had seized control of their families and joined the civil war, the human world would have been turned into a horrible hell by now.

    Dolores felt a newfound reverence and pity for the weight of Vikir''s burden and the length of the thorny path he had been carrying.

    ''In times like these, we must be even more resolute in our support of his will.''

    This must take precedence over helping him escape from his imprisonment in Nouvelle Vague.

    Any hasty movements would only hinder Vikir, so they mustplete the task at hand.

    Then.

    "Hey, Knight of the Night!"

    Two more men appeared in the distance, beyond a cart full of drinking water.

    It was Sancho and Piggy.

    "Long time no see, boys!"

    Tudor, Sancho, and Piggy hugged each other, celebrating their first reunion in months.

    The Night Walkers had been traveling across the continent like this, sharing the story of the Ark with refugees and bringing them to Tochka.

    ''Only here will fire and water be spared, only here will true salvation be found.''

    All of this was based on a message left behind by Night Hound.

    Sancho, standing beside Tudor, looked back at the now bustling fortress of Tochka.

    "This ce has be quite crowded. When we first took up residence here, it seemed like it was haunted."

    "Yeah. It''s a good thing you guys have been so good about keeping up with us in this high, barren ce."

    Piggy nodded.

    But neither Tudor, Sancho, nor Piggy, who had led the refugees to this ce, had resolved the fundamental question.

    "But why did Vikir tell us to gather people here?"

    It was a mystery that even Dolores, the leader of the Night Walkers, had yet to solve.

    But the situation was too urgent for Vikir to exin much.

    Besides, Vikir, as everyone knew, never told a lie.

    "There must be a reason, because I''ve never lost anything by listening to him."

    "I know. There must be a reason why he insisted on gathering as many people as possible in such a deste, remote fortress."

    "Exactly, so let''s push on, it''s all we can do until we find a way to rescue Vikir!"

    Tudor, Sancho, and Piggy once again look determined.

    Dolores looked at them with trust in her eyes.

    Just then.

    "Hey, executives. I need you to assemble, we have a meeting to conduct."

    In the distance, the curtains of the barracks were lifted and a figure stepped out.

    "...!"

    "...!"

    "...!"

    "...!"

    Dolores, Tudor, Sancho, and Piggy turned their heads in unison.

    It was the Wealth of the Night, the sponsor who financed the Night Walkers.

    Also known to a very few as ''rich friend''.

    A wealthy individual who had taken Tochka from a mere abandoned fortress on the outskirts to a fully fortified fortress, stockpiling enough food and water to feed and shelter arge number of refugees.

    A supernova in the business world, where once funds are mobilized, the wealth isparable to that of the tycoon Bourgeois.

    And an advisor to the Colosseo Academy''s investment club, the Oracle.

    ''Messinadnaro CindyWendy''.

    No, she was now Countess Cindy Wendy of Baskerville, and she was looking down in this direction.

    "...It''s urgent."

    With a rare look of seriousness.

 Chapter 424: The Night Walkers (2)

    <h4>Chapter 424: The Night Walkers (2)</h4>

    Dolores, Tudor, Sancho, and Piggy entered the tent.

    CindyWendy, the Night Walkers'' sponsor, was sitting there with a serious expression

    Cindy Wendy. Vikir''s appointed aide and lover of Osiris Les Baskervilles.

    She generously used her enormous assets to purchase enormous amounts of relief supplies.

    Preserved food and water from all over the empire are still arriving.

    What''s even more amazing is that CindyWendy has been doing this for years.

    Vikir''s n had been in the works for a very long time, as Fort Tochka was stockpiled with enough supplies to feed the entire Empire for months.

    Even before Vikir appeared on the Imperial Capital under the guise of Night Hound.

    But not even the great CindyWendy was fully aware of Vikir''s intentions.

    The same was true for Chihuahua and Minpin, who became CindyWendy''s left and right arms and took charge of all tasks.

    "Why did Vikir ask us to gather the refugees here in the hignds? It''s been years, and I still don''t know."

    "Do they know? No matter how close you are to him, you can''t fully understand his true feelings because he doesn''t really show off to his side. We just have to do what we''re told, don''t we?"

    As they talked, Dolores and the others from Colosseo Academy walked in, and they all turned their heads to look at CindyWendy.

    She opened her closed eyes and turned to Dolores.

    "How''s the myth creationing along?"

    Dolores nodded in response to her question.

    "Yep. I''ve created a new concept called the ''Ark,'' and I''m telling the people that anyone whoes to Tochka can be saved."

    But Dolores''s face was a little dark as she spoke.

    In fact, the idea of salvation bying to Tochka is not something that is found in the Book of Revtion or ancient texts.

    It was a myth invented and manipted by Dolores, Martin Luther, and other high-ranking priests of the Quovadisi family, to make it easier to bring refugees to Tochka.

    ''...I was honestly surprised that Pope Nabokov would allow it.''

    When Dolores had told Pope Nabokov I of her n, ready to be punished, Pope Nabokov I had smiled and nodded.

    ''If there are no such myths, let''s create one. All myths are not from the beginning of time, but are created by man. God respects man''s free will, my child.''

    When Nabokov I finished speaking, she patted Dolores on the head.

    ''Your steps will soon be myths, written in the scriptures.''

    Nabokov I gave all her remaining strength to Dolores, other than the strength needed for the civil war.

    Total trust.

    Thus, the Night Walkers were able to travel safely across the continent with the covert support of Quovadis temples located throughout the Empire.

    ...Quovadis, of course, was not the only one aiding the Night Walkers.

    Morg. Bourgeois, and, surprisingly, Baskerville, were also providing covert support.

    Among the most helpful were Banshee of Morg, Lovebad of Bourgeois, Mozgus of Quovadis, and Isabe of Baskerville.

    Whether it''s sending supplies, sending people to protect the movement of supplies, or providing information about areas where battles are being fought or where demons are roaming.

    It is thanks to these supporters and helpers from all walks of life that the Night Walkers are able to survive.

    In addition, many figures were already working for the Night Walkers, who had tangled with Vikir in the Hell Tree, such as Gordon, Underdog, and Lovegood, whom he met in the College League.

    A vignte group that targets only the people, citizens, and themon people, regardless of the civil war.

    The Night Walkers are this informal group that uses force without hesitation in situations where force is necessary.

    Meanwhile, Cindy Wendy was studying the maps on the table.

    Dolores asked.

    "Is everything okay on the Western Continent?"

    "Hmm? s, don''t worry. The Baskervilles are cooperating fully, and the Bk tribes have reappeared, so trade should be fine."

    Cindy Wendy added as if she had remembered something.

    "Oh, speaking of the Bk, it seems... they''ve got a new guardian recently, and it''s quite the ''trusty friend''."

    A trusted friend?

    Everyone scratched their heads at that, but even Cindy Wendy didn''t seem to know the details.

    Finally, she got to the point.

    "Ah, the reason I requested today''s meeting is none other than... food and water."

    Vikir had ordered her to fortify Tochka before entering the Academy.

    As a result, CindyWendy has spent almost all of her earnings on preserved food and water.

    The stockpile of food and water was enough to feed the entire evacuee poption for over three months.

    But even so, CindyWendy was impatient.

    "Vikir is at least 150 days. He told us to save enough tost five months, which is still a long way off."

    Food and water are increasingly hard toe by these days.

    Between famine, drought, massive wildfires, and monster outbreaks, the price of food and water has skyrocketed.

    "I''ve been saving money to buy supplies, but it''s getting harder and harder."

    Dolores gave her a concerned look.

    "Well, I''m sure your wealth is not unlimited, and I''m both grateful and concerned."

    "What?"

    CindyWendy turned to Dolores as if to ask what she was talking about.

    Then she giggled.

    "Ahahaha �C what are you talking about, saintess? I''m CindyWendy, don''t you think too little of my wealth? I have plenty of money, don''t worry, I haven''t even spent 10% of it yet."

    "What? Then why...?"

    Everyone''s eyes widened, including Dolores.

    CindyWendy pointed to the map with a cautious expression and revealed the real reason.

    "We can still buy food and water, we just need to double or triple the price. There''s no problem securing supplies... The problem is distribution and dissemination."

    Distribution and dissemination. This is also an important issue.

    You can get food and water from far away.

    The real big problem is how to get them here to Tochka, in the northern continent.

    It''s a long and arduous journey, and if you encounter monsters, wildfires, or hordes of demons along the way, there''s no answer.

    So CindyWendy has relied on the help of powerful mercenaries and knights from Baskerville and Morg, to gather food and water along the way.

    Buttely, the amount of food and water reaching Tochka has been noticeably reduced.

    "Some of my men are currently keepingrge amounts of food and water in their strongholds, but there are new enemies blocking the supply routes."

    CindyWendy gestured to the X marks she''d made all over the map.

    They were the secret supply routes to Fort Tochka.

    "It''s intentional that they''re all blocking the only way to Tochka. Perhaps they know we''ve set up a hideout here and want to suffocate us."

    "Who are they?"

    Tudor asked impatiently.

    If they were any sort of demons or monsters, they would have already been crushed by the mercenaries hired by CindyWendy.

    But even so, this kind of disruption to the supply meant that the obstacles were not of ordinary caliber.

    CindyWendy stared at Tudor''s face without replying.

    "...."

    "...?"

    "...."

    "...!"

    After a moment of silence, Tudor''s eyes widened in disbelief.

    "Are you sure that this is the Don Quixote family''s pursuit party?"

    At Tudor''s question, CindyWendy nodded.

    Tudor had turned his back on his family, and there was a group after him.

    Don Quixote La Mancha Passamonte.

    The brother of Don Quixote''s patriarch, Cervantes, and uncle to Tudor.

    He was determined to get rid of Tudor once and for all.

    Apparently, he had learned that Tudor had left the family and joined the Night Walkers, and was in pursuit.

    CindyWendy patted the owl''s head with a green-gold ribbon.

    "I hear that Don Quixote''s ''invincible cavalry'' is scouring the area."

    "...!"

    "It''s only a matter of time before they track down the refugee convoys or food convoysing to Fort Tochka, and with the myths that the Quovadis have created and distributed, it''s a miracle they haven''t been discovered before now. Is it lucky that no one has been too busy with the civil war to pay attention to this ce?"

    Actually, from the demons'' point of view, there''s no reason to pay attention.

    It''s a ce of refugees and no water, and it''s obvious that they won''tst long.

    Of course, they don''t know how much food and water CindyWendy has stockpiled inside this iron fortress.

    That''s the only variable.

    But now that variable has been exposed.

    The very presence of Tudor!

    "...It''s me, after all."

    Tudor shook his head in disbelief.

    "I can''t have this ce being discovered prematurely because of me. I should get out of here as soon as possible and distract their attention elsewhere...."

    "No. I don''t think that''s what Ms. CindyWendy called you here to say."

    Dolores interrupted Tudor.

    CindyWendy nodded, too.

    This shows that she believes and trusts Dolores.

    Dolores took over from CindyWendy and spoke in a calm voice.

    "This means that the moment of truth has arrived."

    "...!"

    Tudor looked up. Dolores spoke again.

    "You are our colleague, Tudor. We think of you just as you think of us."

    "...."

    The corners of Tudor''s eyes moistened.

    Dolores looked to her left and continued.

    "The demons aren''t going to leave this ce alone anyway, and since they''ve finally bared their teeth, we''re going to have to fight back. Whether we''re ready or not doesn''t matter, because we can''t sit back and take it."

    Sancho and Piggy agreed with her.

    "If Don Quixote sent a chase party after us... the main camp would be empty."

    "Maybe it''s an opportunity to assassinate a key figure!"

    Living in a world that had be harsh and fierce, the two had be quite seasoned.

    Dolores spoke with determination.

    "This time, we won''t rely on Vikir, we''ll do it ourselves. We will capture Don Quixote La Mancha Passamonte, or the 4th Corpses!"

    Those who have inherited the will of Vikir must go on a demon hunt.

    There was not a single Night Walker who disagreed.

    CindyWendy spoke up.

    "I''m saying this out of anger. Everyone remembers the failed attempt to assassinate the Leviathan Family patriarch in the past, and even the Night Fox and Miss Uroboros, who were strong enough to rival the Night Hound, were unsessful."

    Everyone knows this, but the mood is suddenly more cautious.

    "Vikir said that demons grow stronger with time. It''s been a few years since Vikir''s demon hunting days, so they''re probably even stronger, so we need to be extremely careful...."

    Just then.

    Someone interrupted CindyWendy''s words.

    "We''re in trouble!"

    A knight rushed from outside and lifted the curtain with a contemtive face.

    He was the one who stood guard on the castle wall.

    "There''s Don Quixote''s Cavalry out there, several kilometers ahead of us!"

    Everyone''s faces stiffened at the news.

    But that wasn''t the end of the bad news.

    "The ''Sniper of the Night'', who was returning to the fortress, is surrounded by them!"

    Only one of the Night Walkers wears the nickname ''Sniper of the Night''.

    Usher Poe Bianca has been ambushed by Don Quixote''s pursuers.

    "...!"

    Everyone scrambles to their feet and heads for the door.

    ...kwakwang!

    There was a man who broke through the wall and ran out into the distance.

    His name was Tudor.

    He was a man without ast name.

 Chapter 425: The Night Walkers (3)

    <h4>Chapter 425: The Night Walkers (3)</h4>

    Usher Poe Bianca.

    A Divine Court Lady who was the next head of Usher family....

    She is the only daughter of Usher Poe Roderick, the current patriarch of the Usher family.

    As such, she should be the next in line for the title.

    But reality is harsh.

    Usher Poe Roderick, a powerful man so powerful that he wasbeled a Bow Demon, has fallen from a mysterious illness, and his eldest daughter Bianca is still young.

    While she was at Colosseo Academy, the family was turned upside down.

    Usher Poe Madeline. Usher Poe Roderick''s only sister.

    She had been ill from a young age and had not been involved in the family''s affairs, but at some point, she had taken the reins and started to dominate.

    Madeline began to take control of all the family''s affairs.

    It was as if she had been waiting all this time for Usher Poe Roderick to fall ill.

    When Bianca returned to the family home after hearing her father''s excuses, she was treated with unspeakable ps and pushes.

    She, who had never even seen her father''s face, tried to keep Madeline''s position in check by gathering her maternal and coteral families as supporters.

    But it was in vain.

    Madeline had already recruited all of her maternal rtives and coteral families since Bianca had just entered Colosseo Academy, and Bianca ended up getting stabbed in the foot by the ax she trusted.

    She realized that her family could no longer be her support.

    In fact, she realized that it had be her greatest enemy.

    From then on, Bianca turned her back on her family and went out into the world.

    She traveled to the Don Quixote Family, hoping to gain the favor of her only childhood friend and spiritual rival, Tudors, but they were in a simr situation.

    The Spear King Cervantes, suddenly fell ill with an unidentified serious illness, like Roderick, and his younger brother, Passamonte, took over real power.

    Moreover, unlike Bianca, Tudor were willing to openly fight the entire family.

    So Bianca fled, taking Tudor with her.

    They were pursued by two of the most powerful armies on earth, Don Quixote''s invincible cavalry and Usher''s assassin snipers.

    Their escape was long and difficult, but they managed to survive.

    Tudor, the boy she had always thought of as a child, had grown into a man she could trust to have her back.

    Or, sometimes, lean on.

    And at some point, Bianca found herself watching him a little longer.

    Someone she could share her childhood with. Someone who had been there for her in her wild and unprepared times. And someone who was now going through a difficult and painful time.

    ...Is that why? Bianca was uncharacteristically angry right now.

    "Kukuku- That bitch is so cruel."

    Don Quixote La Mancha Pedro. The adjutant of Pasamonte. The man who escorted Vikir to Nouvelle Vague years ago.

    He should have been imprisoned in the dungeons with his limbs cut off, but somehow he was still in one piece, leading the cavalry.

    Bianca gritted her teeth.

    No wonder the people who had brought Tudor to this point were now in front of her.

    "I see you''re demons after all."

    "What new?"

    Pedro shrugged. Then he said with a smirk.

    "Isolde Poe Usher''s been itching to get his hands on you, which is good, because you''ll be worth a fortune to sell to him. Tudor, I went out to catch that cowardly rat, and I got an unexpected harvest."

    For a moment, Bianca''s brow rose.

    "Cowardly rat? Isn''t that a word more fitting for you, who crawled under the demon''s crotch, and your father, who brought you to the world?"

    Honor and reputation are in the blood of Don Quixote.

    Pedro''s eyes rolled back in his head as soon as he heard Bianca''s words.

    "How dare you insult me!"

    Pedro instinctively reaches for his gloves, and Bianca takes advantage of the opportunity to draw an arrow from her bow.

    peong!

    Bianca had spent a rtively long time in the Hell Treepared to others.

    Based on her experience at that time, she trained diligently at the Academy.

    A liquid aura unique to the Graduator was embedded in the arrow and shot out.

    It looked like a long stream of sticky liquid falling horizontally to the ground.

    And its power was immense.

    peoeog-

    The arrow pierced the back of Pedro''s hand and went straight to his heart.

    However.

    "Hahahahaha! You''re making it so that there''s no gap? The Usher family''s archery skills are truly amazing."

    Pedro''s eyes zed over with a murky energy.

    He shatters the arrow, and new flesh immediately takes its ce.

    Bianca looks at it, and once again, Pedro and his master, Passamonte, are sure to be demons.

    But there was something strange about it.

    "Why aren''t the other knights reacting?

    Bianca cautiously turned and looked behind her.

    Don Quixote''s ''Invincible Cavalry''.

    Along with the ''Invincible Armada'', they are the real power behind Don Quixote''s military might.

    How is it that they have be the minions of the demon, when they have a reputation for being so loyal?

    "...!"

    The sharp-eyed Bianca soon found the answer.

    The faces of the members of the Invincible Cavalry were hidden from the public by their helmets, their faces obscured by their iron masks.

    Every single one of them wore a stunned, dazed expression.

    Their eyes were uncharacteristically cloudy, and some of them were even drooling.

    ''They''re being controlled by the demon!''

    That doesn''t exin it.

    Perhaps the Usher family knights are in a simr state.

    She had a vague idea of how Madeline might have manipted Bianca''s supporters.

    "Then so be it."

    Bianca gritted her teeth.

    ''I don''t want to kill the innocent knights of the Don Quixote family, but if we continue this way, we''re going to die.''

    They had to fight with all their might.

    Pow-

    Bianca stomped the ground and let the arrow fly.

    Fortunately, there is a steep rocky slope just a short distance ahead.

    The cavalry would not be able to advance there.

    ...But that was the mistake of underestimating Don Quixote''s Invincible Cavalry.

    du-du-du-du-du-

    Surprisingly, Don Quixote''s horse galloped up the steep, almost cliff-like slope.

    "Cih. Why are those monstrous creatures being controlled by the demon?"

    Bianca continued to fire arrows.

    She wasn''t aiming for every single one of those horsemen.

    kwakwang! kuleuleuleuleung-

    Bianca''s arrows hit only the weak spots in the rocky cliffs.

    As the traps of ropes and vines were destroyed by the arrows, massive amounts of earth and rubble began to pour down.

    However, Don Quixote''s Invincible Cavalry, which should have been annihted by now, continued to push forward.

    kwakwakwakwakwakwang!

    Thences of the knights pierced through the rocks and dirt, each one bearing the aura of the Graduator.

    A truly terrifying sight.

    Bianca gulped down a gust of wind.

    To think that such things, capable of tearingndslides to shreds, roamed the battlefield.

    How can any siege be imprable to them!

    Bianca''s eyes squeeze shut as she realizes that she can''t run away and that she must take the brunt of those ignorant charges with her own body.

    "Bianca!"

    A thunderous shout came from above her.

    kwakwang!

    A sh fired diagonally sent one of the knights in front flying backwards.

    Tudor. He appeared wearing a ck robe and was blocking Bianca''s path.

    "Get up!"

    Tudor said, spear outstretched and swinging.

    Bianca was a little puzzled that Tudor didn''t offer her his arm, but then she quickly stood up.

    Tudor is currently missing his left arm.

    He lost it during his escape from Don Quixote.

    "Tudor, they''reing for you...!"

    "I know! Let''s just focus on getting back!"

    Tudor swung his spear, rolling all the nearby rocks under him.

    "Tudor! Bianca!"

    They hear Dolores, Sancho, and Piggy''s voices behind them.

    However, Don Quixote''s knights, including Pedro, responded much faster.

    "Surround!"

    At Pedro''s order, the knights swarmed around and blocked the reinforcements, including Dolores.

    At the same time, the remaining troops lifted their spears and started throwing them at Tudor.

    peog!

    One of the spears pierced Tudor''s thigh and lodged in the ground.

    "...!"

    Tudor gritted his teeth, but he couldn''t block the shower of spears that followed.

    Only.

    "Get down."

    He put Bianca on his back and blocked every spear that came his way.

    peog! peog! peog! peog!

    Spears pierced his forearms, thighs, shoulders, and legs.

    "Tudor!"

    Bianca let out a tearing scream, but Tudor remained frozen in ce, protecting her.

    "Tearful chivalry, a fitting end."

    Pedro raised his spear with a mock tear in his eye.

    And then.

    peopeong!

    Pedro''s spear falls, emitting a dark aura.

    ...ttug!

    The spear that had been protecting Tudor all this time broke in half.

    Covered in blood, Tudor falls to the ground.

    Bianca, who was behind him, quickly picked him up.

    "Tudor!?"

    He had a gaping wound in his chest. If he didn''t get to the priest immediately, he would surely die.

    But Dolores and the others hadn''t gotten past the wall built by Don Quixote''s knights.

    Pedro frowned.

    "What are you going to do? If you surrender gracefully, we can take Tudor back to the family home and cure him. With you, of course."

    For some reason, Pedro didn''t want to kill Tudor right away.

    "...."

    Bianca bit her lip.

    There was nothing she could do without thinking twice.

    "Help me. I want to save Tudor."

    "Good! Excellent choice. Maybe we can put a little embarrassment on Isolde."

    Pedro chuckled and turned away.

    Up above, he turned to withdraw his cavalry from Dolores and the other Night Walkers.

    "Hey! That''s enough! Now withdraw...!?"

    But. Pedro didn''t finish his sentence.

    eu-jig!

    A heavy fist flew out and crushed him in the face.

    kwakwakwakwang!

    Soon, golden fists protruding from the ground began to strike down the cavalry of the Don Quixote family.

    peopeong! kudeudeudeug! kwang!

    Rings made of earth rise above the ground, tripping the hooves of galloping cavalry horses.

    "Ugh! What the...."

    Someone fell in front of Pedro, who was spitting out a smashed nose, a busted lip, and a chunk of broken tooth in a stream of blood from his mouth.

    A ck robe and hat, and short-cut white hair visible through them.

    A woman who had grown taller but still had a childlike face was standing quietly in front of Tudor and Bianca.

    "Sorry. I''m a littlete."

    Tick-tock �C the sound of a busy pocket watch.

    Sinir was extending her hand towards Bianca.

 Chapter 426: The Night Walkers (4)

    <h4>Chapter 426: The Night Walkers (4)</h4>

    Sinir.

    The most talented and brilliant of the 20 sses at Colosseo Academy, with the exception of Vikir.

    In the original story, she disappeared from everyone''s sight after graduating from Colosseo Academy, until she reappeared in front of her ssmates.

    "Stay back!"

    Sinir shouted at Bianca, who was holding Tudor.

    At the same time.

    jjeojeojeojeojeog! ujijijig!

    The ground is torn apart on arge scale, and the entire yellow gold vein beneath it is lifted out.

    A stratum suddenly broke off and floated into the air.

    Countless pieces of gold are melted by a hot magic field and then their form is recreated.

    Then, an enormous number of golden hands appeared behind Sinir''s back.

    A thousand hands.

    Each one glowing with a brilliant golden light.

    Behind them, arge mana wheel spun, emitting a halo of light.

    The hat atop Sinir''s head began to unleash its power.

    The so-called ''Money Hat'', a mysterious artifact that increased the amount of mana one possessed based on the amount of gold one possessed.

    It was a powerful artifact, especially with Sinir''s overwhelming wealth as he became a recognized member of the Bourgeois family.

    Sinir had even gotten quite high stats in the Hell Tree.

    This had allowed her to double-cast a great deal of earth and gold magic.

    Like right now.

    kwakwakwakwang!

    Countless golden fists rained down, blocking Don Quixote''s invincible cavalry for a moment.

    Horses stumbled and knights rolled on the ground.

    The tightening siege was suddenly loosened.

    Of course, Bianca, who had crossed so many lines of fire, would not miss this opportunity.

    pas-

    Bianca moved as if she had made a pact with Sinir.

    In one swift motion, she scooped Tudor up in her arms and leapt upward.

    As Bianca and Tudor slipped back through the encirclement, Sinir flew through the air to cover them.

    kwakwakwakwang!

    The spears flying toward Bianca were deflected by a golden fist.

    Bianca, who had been running wordlessly, turned to Sinir.

    " ... What about the family?"

    "I left them in the care of Uncle Demian, and I hope you don''t mind me saying so now, but... I''m kind of worried about you guys."

    Sinir lowered his head and spoke in a low, hushed voice.

    This is because Sinir and Bianca were, in a vulgar term, ''at loggerheads'' with each other.

    Sinir had originally nned to graduate with honors from the academy, prove herself, and thenpete with her cousin Juliette for a ce in the Bourgeois family.

    However, Juliette''s death and her growing attraction to Vikir, a former ssmate at the same school, she gradually began to wander.

    After much deliberation, she decided to drop out of Colosseo Academy to clear her mind and make a clear decision about her future.

    She also decided to cut off all ties with her other friends, who were making her swayed by their personal feelings.

    Suddenly, one day, without leaving a word, she disappeared from everyone and erased her traces.

    But fate had a twist.

    Sinir became trapped in the Hell Tree, and in the process, she began to reflect on her inner self.

    A murderous battle among her friends.

    A mission where only one of them would survive to reach the next level.

    In the midst of these extreme trials.

    ''In a situation like this, I think it''s only right to send the person most likely to survive, and you''re the most genius among us, Sinir, so I think you should go.''

    ''... Hung. You know you''ve been a total jerk to metely, you should really think about it. Reflect on the real thing. Where''s such a good friend?''

    Her friends embraced her and sacrificed for her, even though she was the first to turn away.

    They didn''t ask for anything, they didn''t demand anything, they just gave her their full trust.

    After weighing it all up, she was ashamed of herself for thinking it would be beneficial to fall out with her friends.

    ...And that''s what Sinir had in mind, too.

    ''Decide for yourself. What to see, what to hear, what to believe.''

    Vikir said this just before he was crushed by the Demonic Dragon''s fist.

    Those were the same words he''d used to kill her father, who had be the Demon''s mastermind.

    Afterward, Sinir, who had dropped out of the academy and be a Bourgeois family head, thought long and hard.

    Was this the life she''d been seeking?

    Was this what she really wanted, what she had hoped for?

    [It wouldn''t be a bad idea to weed out useless rtionships at this point. As of this time, all ys have ended].

    Her father, Bartolomeo, the only family member she ever wanted to be recognized and loved, had long since be a puppet of the demon.

    By the time she realizes this, her goal of bing the head of a Bourgeois family has already lost its meaning.

    So what has she believed and what has she been pursuing?

    And what should she believe in and pursue in the future?

    She pondered for a while, and then her sharp mind came up with an answer.

    And now, Sinir is standing here to fulfill her answer.

    "I''m sorry, I''ve been wrong all these years. Please ept me as your friend again."

    Sinir said as she blocked Don Quixote''s Invincible Cavalry.

    A voice that trembles lightly, unlike the golden iron wall that stands strong.

    Her sincere apology reached Bianca, who was behind her, leaving Tudor in Dolores'' care.

    "...."

    Bianca turned her head to look at Sinir.

    Sinir was sweating profusely.

    Blood trickled from the corners of her mouth, indicating the strain on her body.

    "I would do anything if you could only forgive me...."

    But she couldn''t finish her sentence.

    "Ah! How can you not forgive in a situation like this!?"

    Bianca quickly rushed forward, grabbed Sinir by the scruff of the neck, and ran backwards.

    ...kwakwang! kudeudeudeudeudeudeug-

    As Sinir was being tackled by Bianca, the golden wall copsed and the Invincible Cavalry rushed in.

    In the first ce, just being able to block the charge of those monsters that could tear apartndslides for a few seconds was an incredible achievement.

    peopeopeong-

    Several spears flew toward Sinir, but Bianca dodged them as she wrapped her arms around Sinir''s waist.

    The spears cut off a few strands of Bianca''s long hair and send her flying.

    Bianca dodged the spears and sprinted over the jutting rocks, turning to Sinir around her waist.

    "Idiot, we were never friends in the first ce."

    "Bianca...."

    Tears formed in Sinir''s eyes.

    They''d been rooming together since their freshman year.

    But they''d drifted apart at Colosseo Academy.

    Hiding one''s family origin or trying to cut off all contact after graduating from school would have been a great betrayal and immorality for the young girls.

    But now, they have a much bigger cause to fight for.

    Kwak!

    The two women sped hands.

    When they met again, their hands were even more firmly interlocked than the first time.

    "I''m sorry I''mte."

    "...."

    "I''m also sorry for dropping out of the Academy without telling you."

    "...."

    "I''m sorry I ignored your greeting on purpose, just to get away from you."

    "...."

    "I''m sorry I hid my Bourgeois background from you."

    "...."

    "At the Hell Tree again...."

    "Ahhhh! I get it, I''m out of breath, I can''t even answer!"

    Bianca shouted, forgetting that her smug expression was crumbling.

    Both Sinir and Bianca had tears and snot running down their faces.

    Right then.

    The Invincible Cavalry, which hade up right behind Bianca and Sinir, stopped.

    "You bastards! How dare you take my friend!"

    "I can''t forgive you!"

    "I''ll pay you back twice over!"

    Sancho, Piggy, and Tudor, who had fully recovered after receiving treatment from Dolores, joined them.

    "Bianca!"

    "Tudor!"

    Tudor and Bianca leapt to their feet, sping each other''s hands, and within moments, they were each delivering a stinging blow to the knights who had been on their backs.

    "Herees the Tycoon of the Night!"

    "Isn''t it better to be the Golden King of the Night than the Tycoon of the Night?"

    As Sancho and Piggy casually smile at Sinir, whom they haven''t seen in a long time, Sinir smiles back with tears of relief.

    It''s good to be together. That''s what motivation is all about.

    " ... It''s a shame we''re missing one."

    Piggy mumbles to himself, and everyone flinches.

    But it was only for a moment.

    "Don''t worry. He''ll be back."

    "I can''t imagine him dying."

    " ... I guess so too, right?"

    "Maybe he''s healthier than we are."

    "We''re going to get him back."

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir turned their heads, their faces determined.

    And before them stood Dolores, their most trusted senior and ally.

    "Ready, the prayer isplete!"

    Dolores sped her hands together and began to radiate holy power.

    paas-

    A dome of pure white me began to expand outward.

    The entirety of Don Quixote''s knights flinched as they were touched by Dolores'' holy power.

    Their eyes zed over and their movements slowed noticeably.

    "That''s it! It''s working!"

    Tudor eximed uncontrobly.

    But Dolores''splexion was not so bright.

    "Wrong, the brainwashing is too strong. It must be the power of a demon of the 10 Corpses."

    And the one who was indirectly controlling the knights with that power, the cause of the battle, stood before Dolores.

    "Kahahahaha! His influence will remain strong as long as I am here!"

    Pedro, who was sprinting toward Dolores with a burst of magic.

    As he approached, the eyes of the knights around him became cloudy again, and their actions became sharper.

    Finally, Dolores bit her lip and drew her secret weapon.

    "...I can''t help it."

    It was thest thing she wanted to do.

    Dolores sped her hands together and began to pray.

    ...paas!

    Another bright light swirled around her.

    It was like the warmth of sunshine, bringing a cool breeze to the battlefield.

    Pedro sneered at Dolores.

    "Prayers and holy incantations areughable! Light is only as warm as the sun you bathe in...."

    But. He didn''t finish his sentence.

    He was interrupted by arge shadow suddenly cast across his face.

    "What ...?"

    Pedro''s face went nk for a moment.

    It was because of the object Dolores suddenly pulled out from behind her back as she prayed.

    A mace. Arge, beautiful, powerful hunk of iron.

    It was Nabokov I''s favorite weapon, which was closer to physical power than divine power, was right there.

 Chapter 427: The Night Walkers (5)

    <h4>Chapter 427: The Night Walkers (5)</h4>

    Gugugug-

    The heavy mace rose upward and fell down.

    Dolores swung the mace and thought of the past.

    She remembered how, after the incident with the Hell Tree, she had doubted her powers and had personally asked Pope Nabokov I to train her.

    At the time, Nabokov I had told her.

    ''A third-ss healer heals their allies when they are injured.''

    ''A second-ss healer heals their allies immediately when they are injured.''

    ''... but a first-ss healer does not.''

    Nabokov I''s teachings have shaped Dolores today.

    "Eliminate the risk of injury to your allies before they get hurt!"

    Dolores'' mace came down like a bolt of lightning.

    And it smashed Pedro''s face t.

    ... Thwack!

    With a terrifying sound, Pedro''s body flew backwards and crashed to the ground.

    Bianca asked in a dazed tone.

    "...How do you carry that mace?"

    "Umm. Normally, I''m supposed to slip a sack between my back muscles and use my strength to tighten it, but I don''t have that kind of muscle and strength yet, so I just sneak it on my back with a string, and cover the mace part underneath with my skirt!"

    Finishing her exnation, she picked up the mace once more and began ruling out any factors that might injure her ally.

    ppeoeog-

    Another mace came crashing down on Pedro''s head as hey dazed on the ground.

    "Ahh!?"

    Pedro snapped back to reality.

    His eyeballs felt like they were going to pop out, no they actually popped out.

    He wasn''t sure if the burning in his vision was from exposure to divine power or the pain of the physical impact.

    "W-what do cavalry do!?"

    Pedro shouted for help, but the Invincible Cavalry was no where near.

    Sinir''s golden wall, Bianca''s arrows, falling rocks, and Dolores''s holy shield were blocking their charge.

    Furthermore, with Pedro''s mental magic weakened, the knights within the cavalry were unleashing their brainwashing one by one.

    Pedro gritted his teeth.

    He had made a mistake by being too greedy to capture Tudor and Bianca.

    He''d made a bad decision in the first ce, choosing a steep mountainous terrain that wasn''t conducive to cavalry.

    "If I can just get this guy, I''ll be fine."

    Tudor''s assessment of the situation was equally quick.

    Behind them, mercenaries hired by CindyWendy and reinforcements from the various Families descended to block the cavalry, while Dolores, Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir focused on Pedro.

    "How dare you brats!"

    Pedro shouted back, his Graduator Supetive and demonic aura radiating from him.

    Demonization. Just as Pedro''s form was about to turn terrifying.

    ...sh!

    Dolores''s even more powerful Holy Shield crushed Pedro''s entire body.

    Above him, Sinir summons countless golden hands to crush the demon''s body.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca also used their full power to cut off Pedro''s limbs.

    [Aaaaahhh!]

    As a demon, Pedro wriggled violently, but he was helpless until the mercenaries sent by CindyWendy arrived and fired arrows at him.

    In the end, only after the twenty-four stakes that Dolores had given divine power were driven into his torso did Pedro be quiet.

    With his capture, Don Quixote''s Invincible Cavalry halted.

    They awoke from their dazed stupor and slowly began to recognize reality.

    "Where am I?"

    "Huh! Why am I in this ce?"

    "Tudor, Master Tudor!?"

    Tudor stared at the knights of the main family who were slowly regaining their senses.

    Only a few members of the Invincible Cavalry had gathered here, and most of them were probably far away in the civil war.

    "What a tragedy, the proud knights of La Mancha dying in vain, brainwashed by a mere demon."

    Tudor''s hateful gaze turned to Pedro, whoy on the ground, groaning.

    "You should have died long ago when you sent my friend to prison. Sweeten the death you have been granted."

    [Now, wait! Spare my life, spare my life, I''ll do anything, I''ll tell you everything, but spare my life...!]

    Pedro had been in a simr situation once before, when he was escorting Vikir to Nouvelle Vague.

    He had survived by selling information and begging for his life before, so everyone except Tudor decided to interrogate him a little longer.

    Tudor, who had been arguing for Pedro''s execution, agreed with everyone.

    "You''re going to have to tell me everything you know, honestly andpletely, or I''m not sure I can guarantee your life."

    [hiig-]

    "But if you answer honestly, I will spare your life. On the honor of Don Quixote."

    Behind the calmly speaking Tudor, the knights of Don Quixote, who had been brainwashed, were searing with rage.

    Pedro groaned in pain, but managed to answer each question.

    As a result, the Night Walkers were able to learn many things.

    They learned that the true name of their target was Cimeries, and that Cimeries had the power to make humans reckless and brave.

    Other information included that most of Don Quixote''s Invincible Cavalry had been dispatched to the conflict zone, that the Invincible Armada was at anchor far away from the family home due to the drought, and that Cimeries, who was wearing the shell of Pasamonte, was currently prioritizing the safety of Tudor.

    "Why do you want to take me and Tudor alive? If you''re just going for static elimination, why not just take our heads? Wouldn''t that be a lot easier?"

    [I, I don''t know! I''m serious! He didn''t tell me!]

    Pedro shook his head in response to Bianca''s question.

    Then, Tudor asked.

    "And my father? Is he safe?"

    [....]

    Pedro was silent for a moment.

    Then, in a stuttering tone, he said.

    [Well, of course he''s fine. His health isn''t the best...]

    "Really! Is my father really okay?"

    [I, I''m a demon myself, but I was once a knight of Don Quixote, I don''t lie!]

    "Thank you, God. For protecting my father...."

    Tudor closed his eyes and said a prayer of thanks.

    Pedro looked up and opened his mouth.

    [Now I''ve told you everything I know, I mean it. Release me. I''m so drained of magic, I have no strength to resist. Surely, a Knight of Don Quixote would not break his word of honor?]

    For a moment, Tudor''s eyes narrowed.

    "Yes, sir. I promised my honor. As a Knight of the Don Quixote family."

    [Yes. A knight of La Mancha is more honorable and dignified than anything else. I am not even worthy to speak of it. ....]

    Pedro said gloomily, in a self-help tone.

    But Tudor shook his head.

    "Yes, you are unworthy of Don Quixote''s honor, but neither am I."

    [...?]

    Pedro looks up, puzzled.

    In front of him, Tudor slowly raised the broken de of his spear.

    "My name is Tudor."

    The de gleams brightly.

    "No surname."

    It plunges straight down toward Pedro''s throat.

    Pedro''s head was cut off without any time to shout.

    Dark blood spattered the ground.

    Tudor continued in a low voice.

    "So the honor of Don Quixote has nothing to do with me."

    * * *

    Deep within the interior of Fort Tochka. The meeting ce of the Night Walkers.

    "Let''s retreat."

    Tudor said.

    The way a general from the Warring States period who appears in the historical tale usurped the country is to withdraw the army and take the throne.

    "We''ll make it look like we''re returning with no earnings, march bloodlessly to Don Quixote''s territory, then sneak into the castle and assassinate Pasamonte."

    Everyone nodded in agreement that it was a good n.

    Even the usually skeptical and cantankerous Cindy Wendy agreed for once.

    "As it is, Don Quixote''s army is blocking our supply routes. If we don''t get Don Quixote back, we won''t have enough food and water to feed the refugees, and that''s a problem for Vikir''s n."

    Moreover, since they know that Night Walkers are gathered at Tochka Fortress, they need to move as quickly as possible.

    Advantage. If there''s going to be a fight, it''s a hundred times better to strike first.

    Tudor''s body seemed to be shaking at the thought of saving his father and restoring his family name.

    Dolores turned to everyone.

    "Among us, Sinir and I are probably the only ones who have directly experienced the power of the Ten Corpse."

    Dolores had faced Dantalian, Belial, and Amdusias, and Sinir had faced Belial.

    The power of the 10 Corpses that Dolores and Sinir talk about is so enormous that it cannot even bepared to someone like Pedro.

    "Even now, after all this time, it''s probably even stronger, so we need to be prepared."

    Even Vikir had always been prepared when dealing with the Ten Corpses, and if that wasn''t enough, he would risk his life.

    Everyone''s expressions became determined at the thought of finally going to deal with the culprit.

    "I''m familiar with the troop deployments and terrain within the family."

    Tudor briefly drew a map of the family''s territory.

    Everyone watched as Tudor gave a detailed briefing on where the traps were and where the secret passages were hidden.

    Suddenly, Piggy muttered in a low voice.

    "...I wish I had Vikir with me when this happened."

    All eyes turned to Piggy.

    Piggy waved his hands in embarrassment.

    "Oops! I''m sorry. I didn''t mean to sound weak...."

    Dolores smiled and put a hand on Piggy''s shoulder.

    "Don''t worry, Piggy. We all have those thoughts."

    "Well, I''m still... sorry. I thought I threw cold water on it."

    Piggy lowers his head in a whispering voice.

    Tudorforts him.

    "I think about that sometimes, too, how happy we''d be if he miraculously appeared in front of us. But he can''t be here right now, trapped in Nouvelle Vague."

    "...That''s right."

    "What we need to do now is not vaguely dream of him being with us, but to do the homework he left us to do, and more importantly, to get him out of Nouvelle Vague."

    Tudor''s words echoed in everyone''s minds.

    "Vikir is definitely alive, and we will see him again one day, but we must perform well enough to be worthy of his presence before then."

    Dolores echoed Tudor''s sentiments.

    "We need to grow up too, so that Vikir doesn''t have to do it all on his own. We want to let him know that he can rely on us a little bit more."

    Sancho, Bianca, and Sinir nodded wordlessly.

    Even if they don''t open their mouths to speak, they all know what they mean.

    Only CindyWendy was fiddling under the table with a letter she had received rtively recently containing an announcement from Nouvelle Vague.

    <Night Hound ''Vikir Van Baskerville''> [ Death ].

    An official report from the Nouvelle Vague.

    It stated that Night Hound had died in a failed escape attempt from Nouvelle Vague.

    ''I suppose I don''t need to tell them this.''

    CindyWendy crumpled it up with a small sigh.

    ''For those who walk the night, Vikir is an unbreakable faith.''

    It was impossible to break that faith.

    ''...I''m going to need a miracle, really.''

    Even CindyWendy, who never believed in luck or miracles, had this thought, and everyone hoped and waited for the return of Vikir.

 Chapter 428: The Lion King (1)

    <h4>Chapter 428: The Lion King (1)</h4>

    A castle on the northern coast.

    The castle rises high above the beach and coastal cliffs, with blue sea water flowing below.

    A few fishermen can be seen fishing on the lower beach.

    hwiiiing-

    Somehow, a warm wind was blowing from far out on the sea.

    Bubbling

    White foam rises from the reef forest.

    This is a phenomenon that urs when schools of warm fish gather together.

    "Hey, where are all the other fish, and these are the only ones being caught?"

    One of the fishermen said, puzzled.

    The sea had gotten unusually warm, and there were a lot of warm fish that onlye out when the water temperature is high.

    Grumbling-

    By the way, the sky has been dark for days.

    The sun was covered by severalyers of dark clouds, making it impossible to distinguish between day and night.

    The fishermen clicked their tongues.

    "It''s an ominous sign. An ominous sign."

    "Is there a volcano offshore somewhere? Why is the water so warm?"

    "There was a big earthquake the other day, so that must be it."

    "When schools ofrge fishe out, the sea turns dark red... Other fish will die in droves."

    "Looking at my sore skin, it looks like a heavy rain wille soon. Let''s pack up quickly."

    The fishermen hurriedly reeled in theirs and returned to shore.

    There were wooden stalls lined up on the beach, and the caught fish were drying out on them.

    It was a relief to catch so many fish, especially since there was nothing to eat in the famine.

    If they were dried well, they wouldst for a couple of months.

    Then.

    The fishermen shook their heads in unison.

    "Oh no! There are knightsing!"

    "Let''s get down quickly, and if we make eye contact with them, they''ll be offended."

    "They never used to be like that... but nowadays they''re all acting a little strange."

    "Come on, let''s get into the hut."

    Over the horizon, where the fishermen stared, came a group of knights.

    Don Quixote''s Invincible Cavalry, who had been sent to the civil war.

    Some of them were returning to their families.

    Don Quixote''s knights were good-natured, greeting themon people and asionally lending a hand, but that began to change when their patriarch, Cervantes, fell ill.

    The knights became stiff and cold because of the orders of Pasamonte that dignity and authority were important.

    They wouldn''t even ept a greeting, let alone return it, and there was no conversation or interaction.

    Not only that, but they also showed their inhumanity by riding past a child ying on the side of the road and crushing it, so the people were now very afraid of Don Quixote''s knights.

    And the fearful gaze of themon people was being felt by the men at the forefront of the cavalry.

    Tudor. Disguised in his armor, he was heartbroken to see the eyes of themoners on him.

    There were no more old men waving their hats cheerfully, no more young men offering him ale or grilled fish, no more little childrening up to y.

    "...Pasamonte, no, Cimer��es, I can never forgive you. I''ll never forgive you for making Don Quixote''s territory so sick."

    "Hold on, Tudor, keep up the momentum."

    Bianca, riding beside him, said to Tudor.

    The Night Walkers were returning to the family home, all wearing Don Quixote''s armor, blending in among the knights.

    The knights, now somewhat removed from their brainwashing, are deeply ashamed of what they have done and willingly cooperate with the strategy.

    The family''s true nature is now at hand.

    Beyond this point, the Night Walkers would fall to one side, and Tudor guidance would lead them to a secret passage.

    hwiiiing-

    An unpleasantly warm sea breeze pierces through the helmets. The breeze carried with it a musty smell.

    "Ugh- what is this smell?"

    Bianca was the first to frown, always sensitive to smells.

    Sancho wrinkled his nose.

    "It''s the smell of dried fish. The whole fish has a particrly strong smell."

    "That''s a pretty stinky smell."

    Piggy threw his hands up in the air.

    The smell of drying fish filled the air as they walked along the beach, until they came upon the tall gates of Don Quixote, a castle of spears perched on a cliff.

    kkigigigigig-

    The gates opened of their own ord as the banner of the Invincible Cavalry was raised.

    They had finally seeded in infiltrating the enemy camp.

    "...."

    The Night Walkers slipped from the ranks of the knights as they crossed the field of smoke.

    "This way."

    Tudor moved toward the bush, keeping close to the outer wall.

    It was a passageway for servants, but there was a secret door beneath the wall that led inside.

    Don Quixote''s knights entered, their faces still grim, as if caught in a hint.

    To avoid arousing the demon''s suspicions.

    Now, on cue, they will move swiftly and take control of the empty castle.

    And then they would swoop in at the crucial moment to catch Passamonte off guard.

    "For that to happen, we must find him first and lure him out of the castle."

    Dolores''s words had everyone nodding in agreement.

    Then the Night Walkers, led by Tudor, took the back roads and headed for the main castle.

    "Here we go."

    Tudor loaded his fingers with mana and pushed a brick in the wall.

    Grrrrr.

    An underground tunnel opened up.

    The Night Walkers all crawled into the crypt.

    ... Gurgling!

    On the end of a wooden pole was an old solid fuel.

    It was dried whale fat.

    A match was struck against the ckened mass and a few torches were produced.

    "Thank God. I thought it was old and wouldn''t stick."

    "I could have used light magic."

    "No. Let''s try to avoid using mana as much as possible, in case the demons notice."

    Tudor said, handing Sinir a torch.

    Then. The six assassins -Dolores, Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir- swung into action.

    This was the way of the demon hunter to hunt demons, and the way of the eldest son, who had been kicked out of the family, to regain his rights.

    Seeing Tudor''s body trembling slightly, Bianca reached out and pped him once on the back.

    "Don''t be nervous. The head of the family is naturally inherited by the eldest son. Why are you dropping this when the cause is right here?"

    "...You''re right, it''s weird to be nervous when I''m going to reim what''s mine."

    Tudor took a deep breath and puffed out his chest.

    Bianca looked sadly at Tudor''s empty left arm, then pursed her lips and curled her bow tightly.

    It dawned on her that she was neither in a position to pity anyone, nor could she afford to.

    * * *

    After passing through several underground passageways and double doors, they finally reached the depths of the castle''s interior.

    Tudor threw off the iron mask and helmet that covered his face.

    His one remaining arm twitched with strength.

    He felt a new appreciation for the years that had passed.

    To have to walk through the corridors, fully armed and breathless, where he once roamed freely in nothing but a robe after a shower.

    Then. A few passing maids appeared from around the corner.

    "Oh? young master?"

    Unexpectedly, the maids were not at all surprised to see Tudor.

    "What are you doing here, at this hour?"

    "...."

    Tudor felt his hands sweat as he gripped the spear.

    It seemed that the maids were unaware of the treatment Tudor received within the family.

    "It''s no big deal. It''s been a while since I came home."

    "What? You''ve been out? I haven''t seen you aroundtely... did something happen to the estate?"

    The maids look at Tudor with pity.

    Tudor smoothed out the hem of his ck cloak that covered his left arm.

    Then he smiled and said.

    "Well, so be it. How is my father?"

    "I don''t know, I haven''t seen himtely. I can only speak to him through the Viscount Passamonte."

    " ...Only through my uncle?"

    "Yes, my lord, he is very ill. Though it is a relief to know that Mr. Passamonte is always at his side to take care of him. How very dutiful he is."

    Just then, one of the maids spoke up.

    "But there''s something a little odd, whenever I go near my lord''s chambers, there''s always some sort of..."

    Tudor raised an eyebrow, and the other maid interrupted her with a squeak of surprise.

    "My dear, what nonsense are you talking about?"

    "Well, it''s not that..."

    "I told you it was your nose that was the problem! Ugh, you''re being unnecessarily sensitive."

    The maids hurriedly broke off their conversation and bowed to Tudor.

    "Then the head maid called us and we have to help take care of the knights of the Invincible Cavalry who returned to the main house just now."

    "Uhm. Well, yes."

    Tudor let the maids go.

    When they were gone, hispanions, who had been stuck between the ceiling and the pirs, descended to the floor.

    "What did the maids say? A little while ago, one of the kids was acting a little strange."

    "I don''t know, I didn''t hear the end."

    "Oh, you stifle! We need to capture them and interrogate them!"

    "They don''t know anything, they''ve only ever been in their own world. What do they know about what''s going on outside? Right now, the most important thing is to get through this ce quickly."

    Tudor has a point.

    Having infiltrated this far, there was no time to fool around with unknowing maids.

    The Night Walkers moved quickly through the darkened corridors to the spiral staircase.

    Soon, beyond the darkened corridors, they could see the patriarch himself.

    A room where Cervantes the Spear King is lying sick.

    Two knights stood guard before him.

    "Who are you?"

    "My lord, who currently not allowing anyone to see him... huh!?"

    The knights gulped as soon as they saw Tudor.

    But only for a moment, and then their eyes turned bloodshot.

    Their mouths were torn open from ear to ear, and their tongues stuck out in two pieces.

    [How did you get here?]

    [Anyway, wee!]

    The knights turned into demons as soon as they saw Tudor''s face, and it wasn''t just the effects of brainwashing.

    Bianca''s arrows were able to fly without any hesitation.

    ...peog-peog!

    It was at least two shots faster than the knights'' mana manifestation.

    Tudor''s spears pierced the throats and hearts of the two demons, who stopped dead with arrows lodged in their foreheads.

    "I''ve used up my mana, what can I do?"

    "They''re covered by the demons'' auras, so they''ll be fine, but let''s get through them as fast as we can, just in case."

    Tudor and Bianca turned their heads.

    Dolores closed her eyes and scanned the mana flow around her, then nodded.

    So far, there hadn''t been much of amotion, so it didn''t seem like they''d been spotted.

    Stepping over the bodies of the demonized knights, the Night Walkers advanced further.

    "Will my father be all right?"

    "Of course he will. He''s the King of the Spears, and even if he is, he''ll be fine as soon as he''s away from the demons, and there''s Dolores."

    Tudor and Bianca walked ahead.

    Then.

    "...!"

    Everyone felt it.

    hwiiiing-

    A warm sea breeze in the window, and a tantalizing smell carried on the breeze.

    "Ugh, the smell of drying fish."

    Bianca said, wrinkling her nose.

    But Tudor''splexion was stiffening.

    This was not the smell from the coast.

    A stench far worse than drying fish in captivity was wafting through the gap in the doorway of Cervantes the Spear King room.

    ujijig!

    Breaking the locked doorknob with the force of his hand, Tudor pushed the door open and stepped inside.

    "...!?"

    Soon, Tudor and everyone else realized.

    Why the maids had reacted the way they had earlier.

 Chapter 429: The Lion King (2)

    <h4>Chapter 429: The Lion King (2)</h4>

    hwiiiing-

    The sea breeze had been blowing hard for days, carrying a strange heat, as if a volcano had erupted far offshore, as the fishermen had said.

    The stench from the heat makes the whole of Don Quixote''s castle, built on the cliffs of the coast, shiver.

    The distinctive smell of dried fish.

    This is the smell thates from the process of drying the strangelyrge number ofrge fish caught due to the warmer water temperature.

    The fishermen dried the excessive catch all along the coast, and the smell spread over a wide area on the sea breeze, even reaching Don Quixote''s castle.

    ...However.

    The stench in the hallway now was of a different kind.

    King of Spear ''Don Quixote La Mancha Cervantes''.

    Don Quixote''s family patriarch and one of the seven warriors who support the empire.

    The Great Emperor of the Sea (�����) who ruled the blue sea with the strongest cavalry army, the Invincible Cavalry, and the strongest navy, the Armada.

    And the father of one of the most promising heroes of the next generation, Don Quixote La Mancha Tudor.

    As soon as Tudor opened the door, he saw the father he''d been longing to see.

    However, Tudor''s first emotion upon seeing his father was not one of sadness or joy.

    "...?"

    Questioning. It''s nothing special.

    It was the kind of innocent question that makes anyone scratch their head, not knowing what they''re looking at.

    A bedroom with no lights on.

    Something ck was moving on therge, deste bed.

    It was in the shape of a human, but it was twitching and trembling, and something was wrong.

    Tudor takes a step forward, not knowing what it is.

    Pasasasasasag-

    Sensing the presence of humans, it began to move wildly.

    Countless ck waves spread out in all directions around the bed.

    "...!"

    Only then did Tudor discover the identity of those ck things. They were cockroaches, flies, ants, centipedes, and various small creatures.

    Weeeeeeng-

    The stench intensified and the unpleasant sound of pping wings echoed.

    A stark scene was revealed above the bed, which was teeming with an enormous number of pests.

    Cervantes the Spear King.

    A superhuman who had carved holes in mountains with a single thrust of his spear and parted oceans with a single swing of his spear.

    The entity that owned the most extensive territory among the Seven Great Families of the Empire.

    The King of the Meadows, who ruled the entirety of the sea.

    Hey on his bed, nothing but a skeleton and dried skin.

    His body was infested with insects, and his two bony arms, with nothing but bones left, were tightly grasping the long spear that prated his stomach.

    That''s where the stench and insects came from.

    Thud-

    Tudor slumped to his knees.

    "...Ah, Father."

    A voice muttered despairingly.

    An attitude of disbelief at what he was seeing.

    Silence. Deadly silence.

    It couldn''t be more silent, even in the grave.

    No one dared to speak in the face of the horror before them.

    And no one dared to speak to the fallen Tudor.

    Best friend, best teacher, best father.

    Tudor''s pupils fluttered like a sailboat in a storm as he witnessed the miserable end of such a being.

    Then.

    "Wait."

    Someone covered Tudor''s eyes from behind.

    It was Bianca, her voice shaking violently as she spoke pleadingly into Tudor''s ear.

    "Let''s just do this for a second. Okay?"

    Bianca desperately pulled Tudor into a hug. With trembling hands, she covered Tudor''s eyes.

    After a long moment of silence, Tudor opened his mouth like a copsing dam spewing water.

    "...Father!"

    Tudor didn''t speak for a long time after that.

    Dolores, who had been standing beside him, stepped forward.

    With her bare hands, she swatted the insects off the bed.

    When they were gone, Dolores covered Cervantes''s bare face with her own handkerchief.

    "This is my body, which I will offer for you. Ite, missa est. Rest in peace. And go to a good ce."

    A saint''s mass. It was a short but heartfelt farewell.

    As soon as Bianca released her hand, Tudor copsed on top of Cervantes'' mummified body and choked back his tears.

    The sound of water filling the parched furrows.

    Emotions of pain, sorrow, hatred, and regret swirled through him.

    "...You brought it on yourself."

    Everyone, including Dolores, could see that this was the end of Cervantes.

    Cervantes'' cause of death was clear to all.

    His body, weakened by poison and mental magic, had been taken by the demon, and he held the spear upside down with his own will.

    And with truly superhuman will and patience that ordinary people cannot even imagine, he plunged the spear deep into his abdomen, prating all the way under the bed.

    The whirlpool of ck soot left on the bed, walls, floor, and ceiling clearly showed how hard the demon had worked to steal Cervantes'' soul and take over his body.

    Dolores scanned Cervantes'' body with her holy power.

    All strange residues, including miasma, were being purified.

    "Even with his weakened mind, he resisted the demon to the end."

    "I know. I knew it. I expected it to some extent, but...."

    Tudor replied, his voice like boiling lead.

    It''s no wonder Cervantes had a strong mind.

    Because he was the ruler of the sea and the ruler of the meadows.

    ...The question is what made his body, which was as strong as his soul, sick.

    Dolores looked at the floor beneath the bed.

    She could see the rotting carcasses of insects.

    Dried and powdered, they must have been the first to pounce on Cervantes'' body.

    "...I can feel the poison. It also carries with it the spirit of a very terrible gue."

    Dolores said as she touched the insect carcass.

    The old, rotting insects must have died from gnawing on Cervantes'' body, which was tainted with poison.

    Cervantes'' body still had a faint trace of the poison.

    It had faded with time, but Dolores could still make out the poison that had killed him.

    It was one Dolores was familiar with.

    "...Red Death!

    He remembered the first time he''d met Vikir.

    ''There''s a gue in the slums.''

    Dolores had thought him suspicious at the time and had tried to avoid meeting him, but the matter he brought seemed so serious that she had to talk to him.

    That''s when he was first introduced to the dreaded gue of the Red Death.

    ''It''s good to know that I''ve dealt with the Red Death before.''

    Dolores knows the gue well, having cleaned it up herself.

    The Red Death is a gue caused by an extremely poisonous poison created by Leviathan Family.

    The poison that had even poisoned Cervantes the Spear King seemed to be a much improved version of that.

    ''It has be much more severe and demanding that even the Spear King could not do anything about it.''

    Even the faded scent of the poison is enough to send chills down the spine.

    Dolores remembered well the sensation of this poison in Cervantes.

    Meanwhile. Tudor gritted his teeth.

    "...Poisonous Leviathan!"

    That was the name of the enemies who poisoned his father.

    The ones who created the hateful poison and pestilence known as the Red Death.

    Tudor''s gaze then turned to the spear in Cervantes''s abdomen.

    ''Gungnir'', a spear symbolizing the head of the Don Quixote family.

    Cervantes'' spearmanship, which boasted the speed of a lightning strike and the heaviness of a tidal wave, could not be handled by an ordinary spear.

    While all the spears of the most renowned masters broke, only Gungnir was strong and sturdy enough to truly embody Cervantes'' spearmanship.

    Although it is heavy, it has a high mana conductivity and does not leave any residual scratches no matter how strong the impact, so there is no need to sharpen the de.

    Tudor gripped Gungnir''s polearm through bloody tears.

    "I will surely avenge my father by killing Passamonte, and everyst one of those involved in this affair will pay for it."

    Then something surprising happened.

    Tsutsutsuts...

    Gungnir began to tremble slightly and was then slowly pulled out of Cervantes'' body.

    It was as if Cervantes was moving his hands on his own.

    teong-

    Gungnir slipped into Tudor''s grasp, like a ma finding its rightful ce.

    Tudor''s grip on Gungnir nearly caused him to fall forward under its weight, but he managed to hold on to it.

    Even Cervantes was holding Gungnir with both hands, so it must have been quite heavy, but Tudor stood up without any hesitation.

    And like a lie.

    Tsutsutsutsutsu...pulsseog-

    Cervantes'' flesh, which had maintained its posture while being eaten by countless insects, began to crumble into powder.

    His remains, reduced to ck and red ash, no longer smelled as foul as before.

    Only the pungent aroma of his favorite cigarette could be detected.

    Right at that moment.

    p- p- p- p-

    In the corner where the wall met the wall, in the darkness of the inner room, someone stood up, pping.

    ...!

    The 6 Night Walkers, who hadn''t felt any sign of human activity in the room up until this point, stood up straight.

    Then, in the dim light, the faces of the uninvited guests were revealed.

    A white-faced, tall man with a slender build.

    "You''ve finally been picked. Gungnir."

    Don Quixote La Mancha Passamonte.

    No, it was the appearance of ''Cimeries'', the 4th Corpse.

 Chapter 430: The Lion King (3)

    <h4>Chapter 430: The Lion King (3)</h4>

    -It is the task and duty of a true knight. No! Not a duty, but a privilege.

    To dream the impossible dream.

    To defeat an invincible opponent, To endure unbearable pain, To die for a noble ideal.

    To know how to fix a wrong, love with purity and good will.

    To fall in love in an impossible dream, To have faith, to reach for the stars.

    A romantic poem that would only appear in chivalric literature.

    Its author was a nobleman with beautiful blond hair and blue eyes.

    Don Quixote La Mancha Passamonte.

    He raised his white face and looked at his nephew, Tudor, in front of him.

    "Who taught you this favorite poem?"

    "...."

    Tudor''s mouth fell open.

    Dolores, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir knew.

    Ever since they''d met as freshmen at Colosseo Academy, Tudor had loved chivalric literature and heroic epics and recited them often.

    That passage in particr was his favorite.

    Passamonte opened his mouth with a hint of sadness.

    "Half of your chivalry was learned from this uncle, and what a tragedy. To stab in the back of an uncle who has given you all his love. What kind of immoral act is this?"

    "...."

    Tudor did not speak this time.

    Passamonte continued.

    "Bring me that Gungnir. It is too dangerous an object for you to handle when you are so young. I, your guardian and uncle, will keep it for you until you are old enough to be a knight. Here-"

    A white palm stretched out before him.

    Only then did Tudor speak.

    "You have never been able to remove Gungnir from my father''s body."

    "...."

    "Because it is a family heirloom that only responds to those who are worthy of being a Don Quixote."

    Tudor lifted the new Gungnir and tapped it lightly on the floor.

    It''s heavy, but it''s just as reliable.

    The de of Gungnir was as sharply honed as Tudor''s resolve.

    Then, with a crackle of lightning, Gungnir pointed it at Passamonte.

    "Did you intend to capture me alive and make me draw Gungnir?"

    Gungnir would not have responded to anyone but Tudor himself.

    So did Passamonte need Tudor to get his hands on the spear, a symbol and token of the family head?

    At Tudor''s rambling words, Passamonte raised an eyebrow at Tudor.

    "It''s simr to my intention. Just about half. Well, there was that purpose as well."

    Then he added, in a tone of amusement.

    "To be honest, ... I haven''t been in a very good moodtely, nephew."

    "Don''t call me nephew. You disgusting demon."

    "Oh- you won''t let me call my nephew my ''nephew'', what a immoral person. I see, what shall I call you then, mmmm~ Mr. Tudor?"

    Passamonte retracted his outstretched hand toward Gungnir and smiled broadly.

    But despite the smile on his lips, the voice that escaped his lips held a deep note of regret.

    "The reason I''m in a bad mood... is because I lost the body I''ve been preparing for over a decade to change into in vain at the end."

    "...!"

    Everyone''s eyes widened.

    It was obvious what Pasamonte was talking about.

    Don Quixote Cervantes, the Spear King.

    The demon was nning to abandon Pasamonte''s frail body and take on Cervantes'' stronger one.

    But Cervantes'' superhuman mental strength allowed him to destroy his own body before the demon could take it.

    His body waspletely shattered, and the Divine Spear Gungnir, which had prated it, was sealed tightly.

    As ast stand, Cervantes made sure the demon took nothing from him.

    "I borrowed poison from the Leviathan, and at thest moment, when I looked away for a moment, hemitted suicide. It was a moment for which the expression ''One thousand thoughts and one mistake'' is perfect."

    Passamonte said with a grim look and gesture.

    "Cervantes, in the end I got nothing of his soul or body, which is a tragedy, ... but!"

    At this, his blue eyes turn ck.

    The overly erged pupils were like holes into a deep abyss.

    Just looking into his eyes is like being pulled into a dark abyss.

    The dizziness and nausea that followed caused all the Night Walkers to sway.

    All the light of the stars, moonlight, and the twinkling of human emotions is sucked away into the darkness beyond.

    Into the nothingness, into that infernal void, where no one knows what lurks.

    Passamonte looked at Tudor with those eyes and grinned so wide that the corners of his mouth touched his earlobes.

    "... But it''s all right! For here is a body younger, fresher, and with better qualities than Cervantes''s; but a body not yet perfected, and with much to improve!"

    Only then did the Night Walkers realize what Passamonte was really after.

    A body with the highest qualities,parable to that of Cervantes the Spear King, but much younger, with a vast future ahead of him, and infinite potential for improvement.

    And a much more immature and fragile mind, easy to devour.

    That''s right.

    Having failed to take Cervantes'' body, Passamonte now set his sights on Tudor''s.

    -''Why do you want to take me and Tudor alive? If you''re after static elimination, why not just take our heads? Isn''t that much easier?''-

    -[Mo, I don''t know! I''m serious! He didn''t tell me!]-

    There was a reason Pedro had been so evasive in answering Bianca''s question.

    Whether he knew it or not, it is impossible to tell.

    ''...It was a trap!''

    Dolores bit her lip.

    The cavalry of the Don Quixote family that only attacked a few people. The brainwashing was somehow sloppy. loose boundaries. A darkness that reveals itself so easily.

    All of these were Passamonte''s enticements to lure Tudor into the heart of the castle.

    ''If it were you, Vikir, we would not have fallen for this.''

    Dolores med herself, but that didn''t change the situation.

    ''Regardless, you have to do the best you can. The odds were stacked against him from the start, and there was nothing he could do to change that.

    ''Let''s just get out into the open. There are unbrainwashed knights outside of the castle, and if we canbine forces, we have a good chance of winning....''

    Dolores''s thoughts were interrupted, however.

    "Yaaaaaah!"

    Tudor suddenly raised his Gungnir and charged toward Passamonte.

    Boom-!

    Speed ??like lightning, heaviness like a tsunami.

    Tudor''s strike shot out, aiming for Passamonte''s heart.

    "Ouch. Better than I imagined. Bone solid, muscle tight, entrails fresh. Such good body."

    Passamonte twisted to the side at the waist, dodging Tudor''s spear.

    Just then.

    peog-peog-peong!

    Bianca''s arrows flew and struck the wall.

    "Haas!"

    Bianca was firing just as hard as Tudor.

    Strangely, it wasn''t just Tudor and Bianca, but Sancho, Piggy, and Sinir as well.

    "Eh, eh, my body''s going out of control!"

    "Something! I feel like I can do something! Although there is no basis...!"

    "I feel an inexplicable sense of tion. There''s something wrong with this."

    Listening to her colleagues, Dolores realized that she had been thinking wrongly, too.

    ''Now that I think about it, I''ve been thinking that it might be worth sticking around. no way!?''

    Dolores looked up in surprise and stared at Passamonte.

    Then she saw the smile on Passamonte''s face.

    "Have you noticed? I have the ability to make others reckless."

    Reckless, like a frog trying to match the size of a bull.

    It was this brainwashing ability to make others do whatever he pleased that allowed Pasamonte to possess Don Quixote.

    The demon''s cunning ability to manipte others was first manifested when Pedro discovered the fortress of the Night Walkers.

    As if possessed by something, the Night Walkers found Don Quixote''s castle of their own ord, and now they surrendered everything to the fearsome demon.

    ''s, Vikir was right in his warning!''

    Dolores cursed herself deeply.

    Vikir had given her a brief exnation of the powers of the Ten Corpses before he left for Nouvelle Vague.

    But the powers of demons are so mysterious and strange that even those who experience them firsthand often fail to realize they are real.

    The Night Walkers were confused, unsure of how they had been drawn into Passamonte''s scheme.

    Perhaps their very presence here was a trick of the demon? The thought urred to them, and from then on, things spiraled out of control.

    And demons never miss the moment when a human loses insight and falls into confusion.

    "Okay, now that you''re properly confused, let''s get down to business, shall we?"

    To take over the body, the mind must first be shaken. It''s the basics of the basics.

    Tsutsutsutsutsu...

    Passamonte spreads his arms wide.

    The floor cracks, and then a thick, deep crack opens up and the floor copses.

    Ujijig! Rumbling!

    Something began to surge up through the inky darkness beneath the floor.

    It''s a terrible malice, rising to destroy human hearts and minds.

    "...!?"

    The faces of Dolores, Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir instantly turned blue as they saw what lurked below.

    The abyss beneath the floor of the room.

    Beneath themy andscape that would traumatize any student who had ever been a part of Colosseo Academy.

 Chapter 431: The Lion King (4)

    <h4>Chapter 431: The Lion King (4)</h4>

    ...Rumbling!

    Poking its head through the crumbling floor was the head of a giant horse, and its body was made up of dark tree bark.

    The presence of horses was not surprising for a knight, but this one''s appearance was very familiar.

    A bust that those who graduated from the Colosseo Academy cannot help but remember.

    <''The 5th Corpse'' Amdusias>

    Danger Rating : S+

    Size: ?

    Found in: The Serpent''s Womb, deep within the Gates of Destruction.

    -Also known as ''5th Corpse''.

    One of the Ten gues, the natural enemy of mankind, iprehensible and unkible.

    "Take away the life of the first born that year."

    �C ��The Ten Commandments�� 10:Top �C

    ''Amdusias'', the unicorn of the abyss. 5th of the Ten Corpses.

    This demon, in the form of a giant horse, roared with its mouth open at the Night Walkers.

    "H-how!?"

    "Didn''t Vikir exterminate that thing!"

    Hearing Tudor and Bianca exim in horror, Passamonte chuckled and replied.

    "It''s not real. It''s a remnant of Amdusias wandering the Imperial Capital. Of course, it cannot exert the same power as the main body, but it can replicate some of its powers."

    The spirit of Amdusias shattered and scattered into countless fragments.

    Passamonte seemed to have picked up one of therger pieces.

    "Amdusias was a great horse that I always wanted to tame. Is there anything more honorable than taming a beast-type demon that is treated as an equal? and I owe it all to you."

    Passamonte climbed onto Amdusias''s back.

    "Die, demon!"

    Tudor raised his Gungnir and swung it.

    "Now that I have a good horse, I must have a good body and a good weapon, right? s, Tudor, recklessness is the privilege of the young; You don''t know how long I''ve waited for my courage to mature before your body."

    The words only tore at Passamonte''s torn mouth even more.

    At the same time.

    Chararararak-!

    The rough tree bark that covered Amdusias'' body began to snap like tentacles in unison.

    Everyone could tell that these were no ordinary trees.

    "...Tentacles!?"

    Dolores eximed in horror.

    It seemed that Passamonte had even gained Amdusias''s ability to manipte nt power.

    Though all that was here was a few roots of the Hell Tree, it was enough to create the imaginary world once again.

    "The Hell Tree is perfect for destroying the minds of its prey. It is perfect for taking away the body without a scratch. Ah, you''ve experienced it, so you know it well."

    Passamonte''s voice flows smoothly.

    The roots of the Hell Tree caught the current and stretched out with incredible speed, enveloping the Night Walkers.

    Kiriririririririk-

    Everything was as they remembered it.

    The roots of the Hell Tree wrapped around Dolores and everyone else, dragging their minds down to the bottom of a deep, dark abyss.

    "I can see why Amdusias was so fascinated by the souls that matured in the Hell Tree."

    Passamonte muttered in a low voice.

    "I''ll let them ripen slowly, and take them out when they''re at their most tattered. Souls are like fruit, they''re sweetest and softest just before they rot."

    Only the sound ofughter, tinged with a slimy appetite, hovered in the abyss.

    * * *

    "...Keugh."

    Tudor held his pounding head and lifted his head.

    Parched soil, barrennd with nothing, dark red sky.

    He had awakened in the Hell Tree for the first time in nearly four years.

    The good news was that he woke up in the same ce, not separated from Dolores, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, Sinir, and the others.

    "Where am we?"

    Everyone was stunned by the scene that greeted them upon awakening.

    Parched ck soil, gnarled dead trees, burning earth, and smoke billowing from everywhere blocked their vision.

    They had all been trapped in the Hell Tree before, but this was the first time they had been thrown into such a harsh environment from the beginning.

    A vague shadow loomed through the thick atmosphere.

    It was arge stone statue, weathered by the winds of time and no longer in perfect shape.

    There were many chipped pieces here and there, but it was still possible to make out the face of the statue.

    The sharp-eyed Bianca was the first to speak.

    "These are the characters of the Iron Blooded Swordsman Baskerville. I believe it''s the patriarch, Marquis Hugo Le Baskerville, and the young master, Count Osiris Le Baskerville?"

    It''s not hard to guess, then, who this space, this imaginary world, might be connected to.

    "Could this be a visual representation of Vikir''s inner world?"

    Everyone nodded slowly at Tudor''s words.

    Once upon a time, Vikir had gone alone to capture Amdusias on the Flowing River.

    Later, they were told that Vikir fought his final battle with Amdusias in a space that visualized his inner self.

    This is exactly how Vikir described the scene in his inner world.

    A barren mountain where the leaves of every tree were burnt and crumbled, the soil dried up, the insects died, and the animals were reduced to skeletons.

    There were five such mountains spread out before them.

    Everyone who entered the mental world instinctively recognized them.

    Each of those massive, sedimentary mountains was the embodiment of the burden and responsibility that Vikir carried in his heart.

    There were many other things that struck Dolores, Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Sinir.

    Mountain of Corpses and Sea of ??Blood.

    A swamp of blood and flesh. A mountain of bones. Rivers,kes, and oceans of blood.

    Demon and human corpses tangled together to form hills and valleys, ravines and canyons, and everywhere boilingva and sulfur erupted in soft explosions.

    Hungry monsterspete to eat the corpse, and sorrowful screams, cries, and deathly wordse from all over without end.

    The Outer Demon World. Desperation and horror beyond measure.

    Where on earth do the great chains of chaos, the whirlpool of hatred, and all these terrible phenomenae from?

    " ...What kind of world has Vikir been living in?"

    Dolores took it all in, first in amazement, then in sadness and pity.

    Tudor, Bianca, Sancho, and Piggy were speechless.

    "What kind of a sight does a man ever see in his life?"

    "I didn''t think he was a normal guy, but... what the hell was he doing?"

    "He''s been living in this kind of environment, no wonder his personality is so dull."

    "...I feel so bad for Vikir."

    "...."

    Sinir simply held it all in her eyes with a wistful gaze.

    And then.

    Footsteps pounded the ground.

    Over the burning horizon, a ragged horse trotted toward them.

    "...!"

    Dolores''s eyes widened.

    Amdusias. Fifth of the Tenth.

    A demon in the form of a huge, bulky horse.

    But somehow, it was now walking on the ground in the form of an old, dirty donkey.

    It looked precariously close to copse, as if its strength would soon fail and it would perish.

    Tudor held his spear out to stop Amdusias.

    "Hey. Stop!"

    Then.

    ... Kung!

    As soon as Tudor blocked his path, Amdusias fell to the ground and bit out his tongue.

    " ...Uh? What, I didn''t do anything!"

    Tudor hurriedly waved his hand as Bianca narrowed her eyes next to him.

    Dolores, meanwhile, looked at Amdusias'' body on the ground.

    It appeared to be a tiny fraction of the many fragments of consciousness left behind by the real Amdusias.

    It spoke in a weary, almost fading voice.

    [...Run away. A monster ising.].

    At the words, everyone shook their heads in disbelief.

    Amdusias continued, tears in his eyes.

    [This is the realm of the monster who destroyed the Hell Tree and imprisoned me in his mind. I don''t know how you got here, but you''d better run away quickly, for the monster''s inner world is so deste and devastated that even demons have mental breakdowns after being trapped inside for so long... hi-hi... hihehehehe-]

    Those were thest words of Amdusias'' thought fragment.

    Tsutsutsutsuts...

    Amdusias''s soul fragment turns to ck powder and crumbles.

    It seemed that Pasamonte had gotten hold of the Amdusias inside Vikir and was manipting him.

    "I don''t really understand what''s going on, but... what you''re saying is that when we were trapped in the Hell Tree, we were trapped in a fragment of the Hell Tree that was a copy of Vikir''s mind, and now this is thendscape of Vikir''s inner world, right?"

    Everyone nodded at Tudor''s summary.

    Not sure if it makes sense, but it''s the way things are, so they''ll have to ept it.

    "I think it''s the result of thebined powers of 5th and 4th Corpse, and we need to get out of this world first."

    No one disagreed with Dolores'' words.

    Passamonte''s intention is to trap everyone here and gradually break their minds.

    It was clear that humans would notst long in this harsh environment, where even demons would lose their sense of self and crumble.

    "Damn it, this is the imaginary world, and I can''t even decide for myself. If I don''t get my shit together, Passamonte, will he take my body?"

    Tudor broke out in a cold sweat and looked around.

    But thendscape of this world, so full of enemies and nothing but ckness, was enough to drive him mad.

    ''What kind of life has Vikir lived?''

    This is the only thought thatmonly appears in everyone''s mind.

    Right then.

    [...demon].

    Behind their backs. A voice that made everyone''s bodies stiffen.

    But the body didn''t react in a negative way.

    It was the voice they had longed for, the voice they had wanted to hear.

    [...demon].

    It was the voice of an oldrade, a close friend, who had gone to a ce where they would never meet again.

    "Vikir!?"

    Piggy was the first to turn his head.

    Dolores, Sinir, Tudor, Sancho, and Bianca also hurriedly turned their heads to look at the ce where the voice wasing from.

    And there stood a figure that matched everyone''s thoughts.

    Vikir.

    Vikir Van Baskerville.

    First year at Colosseo Academy.

    A model student who had never missed a ss.

    And the Night Hound, the worst viin the entire Empire had ever seen.

    [...Demons kill]

    He remained the same, unchanged from four years ago.

    In this deste, lonely ce. All this time. Alone.

 Chapter 432: The Returned Hound (1)

    <h4>Chapter 432: The Returned Hound (1)</h4>

    [...Demons kill]

    Vikir muttered in a low voice.

    Dolores and the other graduates of the Colosseo Academy were surprised to see such Vikir, but then they realized.

    That''s not Vikir. It''s a fragment of the imaginary world, that were not yet disposed of when Amdusias was eliminated four years ago.

    The residual thoughts remaining within it are merely imitating the image of Vikir.

    "... But even so."

    "It really does look like Vikir."

    Tudor and Bianca broke out in a cold sweat.

    While everyone has changed a lot in the past four years, both internally and externally, Vikir in front of them is the same person he was four years ago.

    "Now that I think about it, Vikir was so young."

    "He must have been hunting those terrifying demons in his young body."

    Sancho and Piggy both groaned.

    "...."

    "...."

    Dolores and Sinir remained speechless.

    Their gazes were tinged with sadness, wistfulness, and longing as they stared at the residual thoughts that had once been part of Vikir''s subconscious.

    But.

    Then something happened that shattered all of their tender feelings.

    [...Demons kill!]

    Vikir''s residual thoughts.

    The ego that was once a part of Vikir''s inner self began to swing its sword in their direction.

    kwa-kwakwakwakwakwang!

    A terrifying blow swept across thend.

    Everyone, including Dolores, hurriedly fled, feeling a sense of sadness.

    That''s right. Now was not the time for them to pity Vikir.

    No matter how devastated Vikir was inside, he was an absolute force at the peak of his Swordmaster powers.

    "Uuuuuh- why are you attacking us!"

    "Ugh, it''s because he''s been trapped in here for the past four years? he''s so aggressive."

    Tudor and Bianca were in the front, so they were the first to be attacked.

    Kwagigigigigig-!

    The sight of teeth flying and tearing in all directions made them feel like small herbivores being hunted by a giant beast.

    Overwhelming fear. A sense of power that they couldn''t resist. Instincts screaming like crazy. Run away now!

    Grumbling-

    A fierce storm of teeth, an aura like a ck, zing fire.

    Vikir''s eyes, tearing between them, zing with nothing but an infernal void.

    It was a terrifying re that one could only think of avoiding, but not the will to fight back.

    [...Demons kill].

    A fiery hatred for the demon.

    But it''s not just demons that it''s burning, it''s everything in the world.

    " ...That''s right. Because there are only demons in this world, and he moves to kill everything he encounters."

    Dolores gritted her teeth.

    The size of the peaks and mountain ranges that rose up behind them was an indication of the burden and responsibility Vikir carried.

    Perhaps he carries more on his shoulders than any mere mortal would dare to imagine.

    ''I''ve felt it since the first time I saw you, Night Hound.''

    A feeling Dolores had vaguely sensed in the distance as he served the sick in the slums.

    It was a feeling that Dolores was now firmly reaffirming.

    Meanwhile, Sinir was analyzing Vikir in detail.

    "I think that''s what it is."

    "That? What is that?"

    "...A humanoid creature that lives only for battle. A crystallization of the residual thoughts of a noble knight ckened."

    Sinir answered Bianca''s question while wiping off a cold sweat.

    "The Death Knight."

    At that, everyone''s heads snapped up to look at Vikir''s face.

    "One. ...one. ...two. ...three. ...four. ...five. ...six. ...seven. ...eight."

    Then they counted the number of teeth Vikir was currently showing.

    Vikir, who fought Amdusias with a whistle during the events of the Hell Tree.

    Everyone clearly remembered the path of the teeth drawn by his sword at that time.

    Eight. That was the number of teeth Vikir had drawn.

    And now, in front of them, the number of teeth Vikir was drawing.

    "...Nine."

    Nine.

    Vikir was drawing nine teeth with the tip of his sword.

    kwa-kwakwakwakwakwakwakwakwang!

    Nine streaks of teeth ripped through the earth and sky, tearing them apart.

    Disorder and no rules. However, as far as destructive power goes, the swordsmanship is truly formidable.

    "Ugh, this is what we have to dodge to survive in this barren world?"

    "I can see why the fragment of Amdusias dried up earlier."

    Tudor and Bianca took a sharp step back.

    Baskerville 9th Form.

    Vikir''s remnants of consciousness, which were able to use it, spewed out terrifying killing intent and turned his head left and right.

    ...udeug! ...udeudeug!

    No matter how they look at it, it does not belong to a living human being.

    It was as if a fragment of Vikir''s self had achieved some sort of awakening after all the fighting and suffering it had endured while wandering this doomed world.

    "We have no choice but to fight."

    Dolores said, biting her lip.

    paas!

    Eventually, a sacred wall blocked Vikir''s path.

    [...?]

    Vikir''s remnants of consciousness are startled by the energy that ispletely different from that of the demon.

    However.

    Bam!

    There are no exceptions. The Death Knight destroys everything in its path.

    Baskerville 4th Form. Four strands of strikes pounded Dolores''s shields.

    "Brother!"

    Sinir joined the battle.

    She pulled up the gold vein from beneath the ground and added her own golden defense wall to Dolores'' sacred defense wall.

    kukung-

    A terrifying impact ripped through the barrier, tearing it apart.

    The moment.

    "...!"

    "...!"

    Dolores and Sinir felt waves of intense emotions surging through their minds.

    And Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca, who were picking up the pieces of their auras, must have felt the same thing.

    Every time the swords meet and blood stters, a wave of emotion rushes through their heart as if it were cutting into their heart.

    That is the emotional wound that Vikir has suffered throughout his life.

    It wasn''t physical, but a collection of emotions: pain, solitude, hatred, loneliness, sadness, and loss.

    "...!"

    Everyone was focused on the visible pain, not the shadow of emotion thaty beneath.

    The resolve that Vikir always carried in his heart, and the past that he relived over and over again, filled everyone''s minds.

    Empathy. In the truest sense of the word.

    Dolores, Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir realized.

    The loneliness of being raised as hounds amidst all the discrimination.

    The loss ofrades-in-arms who were the only ones who cared.

    The grief of being betrayed by those you trusted.

    The destion of being abandoned and executed by your loyal master.

    The helplessness of watching so many of the people you tried to protect die like trash.

    Lost, tortured, fighting, biting, dying, killing, struggling.

    ...Yes, struggling. Always struggling.

    Illegitimate son of an abandoned concubine, hence the Van middle name.

    A life of loneliness and suffering, even though he had to work hundreds of times harder than his siblings because he wasn''t even born with a surname like "La" or "Le," which were given to him.

    This is the life of the Night Hound.

    This was Vikir''sst life, a life of war and destruction.

    Juruk-

    Tears fall from his eyes without anyone knowing who came first.

    His body was being torn to shreds in the maelstrom of bombardment, but it was his heart that ached more.

    "Vikir has been carrying these feelings in his heart all this time."

    "...I can''t believe he''s been through this physically."

    "I can''t believe he''s survived all this."

    "What the hell, how can a human being do this?"

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca are deeply disturbed by their newfoundpanion.

    Sinir, who is also forming a barrier, bites her lip so tightly that it bleeds.

    ''I didn''t realize your past was this bad.''

    To be honest, she thought she was the saddest, loneliest person in the world.

    But now, feeling the sword of emotion shing through her body, she knew.

    I see it so clearly.

    -''Now is not the time to think about a rtionship.''

    -''...''Now?"

    -''?''

    -''Not now, right? Just not ''now''. So you''ll have some timeter, after you''ve achieved your goal?''

    -''My goal is on a very long and difficult road. It''s still a long way off...''

    -''I know. For someone of your caliber to say that, you must be very ambitious indeed. Then one day, when you''ve achieved everything you want.''

    -''....''

    -''Will you ept me then?''

    She realized then how immature and foolish she sounded.

    What a burden it put on him.

    ''...If that day everes.''

    And what a heavy heart, what a desperate sincerity, what an answer he had given to what he thought was just a way out of the situation.

    Meanwhile.

    "...."

    Dolores could barely keep her hands and feet from shaking.

    ''Vikir,e on, you''re a strong man!''

    She shouted to herself as she faced the storm of hits raging before her.

    It''s a good thing they''re aimless now, because if they were any more urate, they''d tear these defenses apart like paper.

    She carefully moved between the swords.

    The sword pierced the barrier, leaving a long line of blood on her body, but Dolores was undeterred.

    Then, an artifact was pulled from her chest pocket.

    The Mirror of Truth. A mirror that reveals the true colors of those it reflects.

    Dolores wished to show this to the remnants of Vikir''s rampaging, self-absorbed mind.

    She wanted to help him see who he really was, how valuable and brilliant he was.

    Then.

    Like a lie, the storm of bombardment paused.

    Turning to Vikir, who stood still, Dolores took out a mirror as ast resort.

    Faasshh.

    And there, in the mirror, was Vikir''s reflection.

    No longer the pale face of four years ago, but a man''s face with thicker, darker lines, staring back at Vikir''s remnants.

    Sincerity. Uprightness. Strong conviction. A face that showed something like steely determination.

    Dolores smiled faintly as she felt her body rx.

    "Yes, this neat and tall figure, this is who you really are."

    She spoke with sincerity.

    Even if she crumbled into a handful of dust at this very moment, if she could lighten the burden of this lone man in front of her just a little bit....

    ....

    ...However.

    Reality yed out a little differently than Dolores had imagined.

    "I know."

    The Vikir in the mirror opened his mouth to speak.

    "?"

    Dolores looked dumbfounded for a moment.

    ''Did the Mirror of Truth even have this feature?''

    But her thoughts didn''tst long.

    Swoosh.

    A palm silently covered the mirror.

    Yes, it did. Dolores hadn''t realized she hadn''t gotten the mirror out of her hand.

    ...Then what is that Vikir in front of her now?

    Dolores raised her head once more and looked closely in front of her.

    [...Demons kill].

    "I agree."

    The remnants of Vikir''s consciousness in the mire, frighteningly alive.

    And another Vikir, facing his own reflection.

    "Besides, it''s been a while, everyone."

    The sight of him giving a short reunion message to everyone clearly leaves no doubt about who he is.

    That was the real Vikir!

 Chapter 433: The Returned Hound (2)

    <h4>Chapter 433: The Returned Hound (2)</h4>

    "It''s been a while, everyone.."

    A low, low-pitched voice.

    Dolores, Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir''s eyes widened as if they had witnessed something unbelievable.

    Vikir. The Night Hound.

    Their old friend, imprisoned in Nouvelle Vague more than four years ago, stood before them.

    His height had increased, his chest and shoulders broadened, his jawline sharpened.

    Not only had he grown into a handsome young man with a pretty boy face that made his gender seem ambiguous, but the density of his aura, which radiated from his entire body, had also changed to another level.

    It was as if there was a mountain, or rather a mountain range, in front of them.

    It was like he was apletely different person from the friend they had remembered, but that made it all the more real.

    It was like realizing that Vikir in front of everyone was the real Vikir, four years older.

    "...Ha, but how?"

    Dolores and Sinir stare at Vikir, mouths agape.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca are also stunned by the sudden reunion.

    Tudor is the first toe to his senses.

    "Vikir, is that you? Is that you! Are you my friend Vikir?"

    "At least I think so."

    "You bastard! I was worried about you! But why are you out here? What the hell happened to you?"

    "It''s a long story."

    "Then you can tell me the short story!"

    "Hmm. Okay, then I''ll make it short."

    Slipping away from Tudor, who was lunging for an immediate hug, Vikir thought for a moment before summarizing.

    "Trapped in Nouvelle Vague. I escaped. Came straight to assassinate Passamonte. I''ve been hovering around the castle for days, waiting for the right moment to sneak inside, but you guys went in first, so I followed."

    "...Something''s missing in front of that?"

    Everyone, including Tudor, thought the same thing.

    But there was no time to borate, as Vikir said.

    [...kill, demon].

    The Death Knight, Vikir, made his move.

    ...kwakwang!

    The 4th Baskerville Form. Four teeth swooped down on Vikir.

    Each strike was powerful enough to cut through the earth and tear the sky apart.

    Moreover, his skill level has already surpassed the master level.

    However, Vikir remained calm in the face of the massive maelstrom of strikes.

    "Is it 4th Form? If that''s the case, I''m pretty confident."

    Vikir also deployed a Baskerville 4th Form.

    The movements were as natural as breathing, as he had practiced swordsmanship his entire life.

    The four teeth wed ferociously at each other''s space.

    udeudeudeudeudeug!

    A few hairs, a few drops of blood, scattered.

    After an offensive and defensive battle without giving up an inch, Death Knight Vikir gritted his teeth.

    ...Kuoooooooooo!

    The dark aura emanates even more strongly.

    Death Knight Vikir has raised his swordsmanship to another level.

    Baskerville 5th Form. The five teeth pressed down on Vikir.

    Vikir, in turn, has raised his swordsmanship to another level.

    Five against five. A storm of blows as if facing a mirror.

    pis- seogeog-

    Flesh sttered and blood fountained.

    A small amount of bleeding on both sides along the tiny cracks from the left-right asymmetry.

    [Kills!]

    Death Knight Vikir has raised his swordsmanship to another level.

    Baskerville 6th Form. A ferocious onught of carnivores.

    Vikir responds with a matching 6th.

    de to de, sword tip to sword tip, sparks flew, and the battle hung in the bnce once more.

    Baskerville''s 7th, followed by Baskerville''s 8th. The number of initiates who continue to do so.

    Finally, Death Knight Vikir yed his final card.

    Baskerville 9th Form. The ultimate killing blow, destroys everything.

    kwa-gigigigigigig!

    The dark red aura fluctuates steadily, carving away the rocks and hills around it.

    Vikir, facing the of shes tearing apart the entire world, eximed in a low voice.

    " ...9th Form. This is the realm after death''s threshold."

    The line between life and death is blurred, perhaps because it''s in a fantasy world.

    What''s more, the fragments of his self in front of him were mixed with the experience of death he had before his regression.

    Furthermore, as a being that rampages without an intelligence, it is only natural that he would be familiar with life and death.

    All of thisbined to create a 9th Form Baskerville by the most unlikely and coincidental of odds.

    Vikir is an 8th Form Baskerville.

    Even if he were to move up a level, he could no longer keep up.

    That is the limit of the living, or in other words, of those who have much to lose.

    "...But in the end, it is only a byproduct, a residue, left where the wheels of fate have rolled."

    With that brief assessment, Vikir drew his magic sword, Beelzebub, as long as he could.

    ...sh!

    Baskerville 8th Form. The eight teeth that Vikir had created swirled toward the nine teeth in front of him.

    "Vikir, let me help you!"

    Dolores stepped forward.

    "It''s okay. I can handle myself."

    Vikir refused Dolores''s help.

    It was necessary to save divine power in preparation for the battle with the Ten Corpses that would follow.

    Vikir also wanted to see just how ripe his 8th Form had be.

    This was fortunate, as he was about to face Baskerville 9th Form, which no one but CaneCorso had ever climbed.

    ...kwakwakwakwang!

    Vikir''s 8th Form and Deathknight Vikir''s 9th FForm shed.

    Their trajectories were different, but in the end, they were the same.

    Teeth exist to bite and hurt others in the first ce.

    ppagag-

    The bnce was upset.

    The first to falter was, surprisingly, Death Knight Vikir''s 9th Form.

    [...!]

    The Death Knight Vikir, who had never been pushed before, staggered backwards for the first time.

    His face contorted with embarrassment.

    Seeing this, Vikir felt confident in his judgment.

    ''Not even close to CaneCorso''s 9th form.''

    Certainly, each of the nine swords that Death Knight Vikir unleashes is powerful and devastating.

    But each one tended to y separately in different directions, roaming about with no clear intent or purpose.

    Rather than nine hounds ying separately, eight hounds working together in unison can catch a muchrger and stronger prey.

    This was the current situation.

    ujijijijijig!

    Vikir''s eight teeth spun in a round sphere.

    A ck Sun.

    It was the most efficient way to kill, learned indirectly from CaneCorso.

    With a fierce spin, it converged into a single point, shattering the irregrly sprouting teeth and crushing them into a harsh, heavy mass.

    It looked as if a hard bowling ball had been thrown with all its might into the mouth of a toothy beast.

    wagigig- ppujig- ppudeudeug- kwakwang!

    All nine of Death Knight Vikir''s teeth are shattered.

    Vikir''s eight teeth, on the other hand, rushed toward Death Knight Vikir, not a single one broken or missing.

    [...! ...! ...! ...! ...!]

    As Death Knight Vikir was sucked into the center of the ck Sun, his entire body shredded and shuddered in agony, he did not utter a single scream.

    It merely red at Vikir with burning pupils.

    [...Demon].

    Then, the Death Knight Vikir crawled through the gap between the blow and the blow.

    [Kills!]

    But.

    "He who fights demons must take care not to be a demon himself."

    An even greater ck sun awaited the Death Knight Vikir as he emerged through the cracks of the ck Sun.

    "It is a shame that you have be a demon."

    Another ck sun was ced upon the ck sun.

    wajijijijijig!

    Two huge ck spheres interlock and rotate like clockwork.

    Death Knight Vikir, crushed by the pile of shes, finally let out a single scream.

    [Gu-aaaahhh!]

    His flesh writhes in agony. But worse than that, he had no outlet for the rage that burned like wildfire in his chest.

    [...Demons! Die! Die! Demons! Die! Demons!]

    Death Knight Vikir was struggling, scratching the ground with his bloody, rag-like body.

    Determined to kill his opponent no matter what.

    All those who have lived through the Age of Destruction harbor bitter anger and resentment in their hearts.

    And those who were born as hounds and survived such times have a simr story to tell.

    A copsed ego, dogmatic hatred, and anger that exploded after being suppressed and repressed.

    "...."

    Vikir stared down at the figure, lost in thought.

    Dolores studied Vikir''s sideways face and thought.

    "I wonder what he''s thinking?

    Death Knight Vikir is Vikir''s alter ego, a fragment of his unconscious.

    As a being who has be stronger by mulling over and over old grudges, he symbolizes and represents the hostility that Vikir originally has towards demons.

    And what is Vikir thinking now as he looks at the being that is like himself?

    ''...That must be sad. It must be painful.''

    Dolores cried as she looked at Vikir.

    How could anyone look at a self-portrait being torn to shreds and still be sane?

    Is there anyone who wouldn''t be shaken even when faced with that terrible scream and that horrifying cruelty?

    ....

    ... There it was.

    "It''s the best."

    Vikir smiled weakly as he watched Death Knight Vikir scrabble at the ground.

    "It''s the best material. It''s worth it toe into the fragments of the Hell Tree."

    With everyone, Dolores included, looking on in confusion, Vikir untied the sack from around his waist and held it in his hand.

    hududug- hududug- hududug-

    He shook out what was in it onto the ground and said.

    "Eat up."

    It was something that looked like a bunch of kidney beans.

    "...?"

    Everyone''s eyes widened, including Dolores and Sinir.

    The ck blobs hit the floor and immediately crawled toward Death Knight Vikir in front of them.

    They were clearly reacting to the strong smell of blood emanating from Death Knight Vikir''s body.

    ''ck Tongue Leeches''.

    Vikir''s secret weapon from Nouvelle Vague.

 Chapter 434: The Returned Hound (3)

    <h4>Chapter 434: The Returned Hound (3)</h4>

    ''ck Tongue Leeches''.

    Vikir''s secret weapon from Nouvelle Vague.

    Hunger. A small vampire driven by an insatiable appetite.

    They began to swell after drinking the blood flowing from the ground, and soon began to need more and more blood.

    Specialized species bred by ck Tongue to seek only the blood of Vikir.

    Their voracious appetite was too much for even the super-regenerative Vikir to handle.

    But then a recement appeared, one whose blood had the exact sameposition as Vikir''s own, and this was the perfect opportunity to grow the leeches.

    "Eat a lot."

    Vikir said cheerfully.

    And the leeches moved as if they understood him.

    the leeches gorging themselves among the torn flesh, exposed bones, tattered tendons, and lumps of fat.

    Even Death Knight Vikir of the 9th Form is powerless against their insatiable appetite.

    [Demon... kills... dies...]

    Even the Death Knights of the world have no business against the countless swarms of vampires.

    At the same time, the appearance of the leeches attached to the body of Death Knight Vikir began to change.

    udeudeug- udeug- ppudeug!

    The leeches grew from the size of a pea to the size of a finger.

    But they didn''t just get bigger.

    weng-al-weng-al-

    kkyaleuleuleug-

    kigkigkig-

    The leeches grew heads, bodies, and limbs, and their facial features began to resemble those of Vikir.

    It still looked like a crude doll a child made in craft ss, but the more blood it sucked, the more it resembled Vikir.

    "...It''s cute. You look just like my brother."

    Sinir reached for one of the leeches that had lost the feedingpetition.

    kyaag!

    The leech''s eyes widened and its teeth sank in, and Sinir was horrified.

    "What the hell, I was just trying to take care of the poor thing."

    Sinir grumbled a little as the leeches trotted off to suck blood again.

    At least they didn''t seem interested in anything other than Vikir''s blood, right?

    Meanwhile.

    [Demon... die.]

    Death Knight was slowly crumbling.

    Not only was the 9th Form, which used up all of the mana, destroyed, but the 8th Form was allowed to hit the body twice in session.

    Combine that with the devastating trauma, the massive internal injuries caused by the mana surge, and the specialized creatures that ck Tongue had developed to capture Vikir, and it was clear that even the Death Knight who can use the 9th Form of Baskerville would not have the stamina to survive.

    In the end, Vikir''s residual thoughts, the ghosts of the old world, crumbled.

    [Demons Kill... Demons Kill...]

    Vikir tries to stand up despite his copsing ego and crumbling body.

    Vikir stared down at himself.

    And then.

    "Don''t worry."

    He reached out and covered the eyes of the remnant of consciousness that had fallen to the ground.

    "The age of destruction will nevere again."

    And then something incredible happened.

    The ghost''s expression, stained with ck blood and an even cker shade under its eyes, rxed slightly.

    Tsutsutsutsutsutsuts...

    In an instant, Vikir''s body turned to ckened ash and scattered to the ground.

    The wind blew it around a few times, and soon there was nothing left.

    "...."

    Vikir stared dryly into the direction of the wind.

    The Age of Destruction.

    Even an old man who has lived many lifetimes of hatred and anger does not know where the end of the road lies.

    Then.

    Creeping...

    The sensation of something small crawling up the back of his foot.

    When Vikir looked away, he saw leeches wandering around on the floor, panicked because there was nothing to eat.

    The leeches, which had grown as big as fingers, were now mini-mes modeled after Vikir.

    "Come on. Come back."

    Vikir dropped a drop of his own blood into the leather sack and shook it on the floor.

    The leeches, smelling his blood, leaped into the sack, their mouths watering.

    Vikir watched the leeches wriggle in the sack and nodded.

    "Hatred for Demons... and a copy of the main body with some of its appearance and strength. Could be very useful strategically, if I can control their appetites...."

    The emotions of the remnant of the previous encounter had long since dried up.

    A normal person would have been ovee with sentimentality for a long time after meeting with his past self, but Vikir doesn''t consider such things a luxury.

    Rather, he uses the painful scars of his past and the burden of his mission to fulfill it.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca are left speechless by his nonchnt demeanor.

    "If it were like before, I would have just thought of him as a boring and dull guy."

    "But after seeing that mountain of emotions...."

    "I feel sorry for Vikir, he''s carrying so much on his shoulders alone."

    "I don''t even dare tell him to rely on us."

    They were right.

    Dolores and Sinir could only stare at the back of Vikir''s head, unable to say anything.

    Finally, Vikir turned back to them and said.

    "Okay. You asked me something earlier, didn''t you?"

    "Huh? Ah, ugh!"

    Tudor nodded.

    His friends were wondering how Vikir had gotten here.

    "You see, I was imprisoned in Nouvelle Vague about four years ago. I escaped."

    "...No, is that that easy?"

    "Well, it took a lot of work. I almost died once."

    Vikir gave a brief exnation of what had happened.

    Thebor at Nouvelle Vague, the solitary confinement, and then the volcano eruption.

    An unbelievable tale of being shot up to the surface in a pir of fire from the volcano.

    If the speaker had not been Vikir, everyone would have thought it was an empty boast.

    "When I went up, I thought I was going to die. But when I came down, I thought I was really dead. After I fell, I lost my memory for a while, so I wandered off. I worked in a fishing vige catching warm fish and drying dried fish......."

    Vikir frowned.

    "I was fortunate that my two colleagues who escaped with me found me. When I saw familiar faces, the memories quickly came back. That''s why they immediately moved to assassinate Passamonte. But he was so focused on you guys that his guard was down."

    "Ugh! That''s too much, you should warn us!"

    "I didn''t tell you on purpose, because I think you''re already somewhat imbued with the demon''s brainwashing. Sometimes you have to deceive your own allies before you can deceive your enemies."

    Everyone nodded at Vikir''s words.

    Clearly, at some point, they had fallen for Passamonte''s scheme.

    "... Damn. He has some sort of hypnotic ability to make his opponents reckless. I''ve seen it firsthand, and it''s dangerous."

    Vikir nodded as if he already knew.

    Just then, Bianca, who had seen the conversation between Tudor and Vikir, burst outughing.

    "You two have be quite simr in personality, haven''t you?"

    Thement wasn''t limited to Tudor.

    Over the past four years, every single one of the Night Walkers had be more and more like Vikir.

    The tone, the way they spoke, even their personalities.

    It wasn''t just because Vikir''s presence loomedrge in their minds.

    It was a change in personality that was inherent in living through such fierce and harsh times, and everyone was slowly going through it.

    "I suppose most people''s personalities change simrly as the destruction approaches."

    "The real thing hasn''t even started yet."

    "So, in a few years from now I''ll be talking like that too?"

    Vikir smiled faintly at Tudor''s yfulment.

    Certainly, most of his formerrades-in-arms before the regression had simr personalities.

    In extreme situations, the unique characteristics of an individual, such as personality or qualities, may gradually wear out and be more consistent with the overall average.

    Then. Sinir asked, as if out of the blue.

    "So, what was my brother''s personality like before all those traumatic experiences?"

    All eyes turned to Vikir.

    They didn''t say anything, but they all looked very curious.

    It wasn''t a difficult question, so Vikir opened his mouth to answer.

    "ording to my nanny, who raised me as a child, ... I was shy and introverted. My favorite hobbies were ying with dolls and flower arranging. Of course, they were soon forbidden by the family tradition."

    "Ooh... really doesn''t suit you?"

    Everyone could only nod slowly at Tudor''s words.

    Finally, Vikir had everyone''s attention.

    "It''s time to get out of here."

    "But how do we get out?"

    "We''ll have to use the same trick we used to get out of theHell Tree once more."

    Vikir turned his head to look at Piggy.

    Piggy''s blood has mysterious powers.

    It acts as a deadly poison to demons, distorting the space they create and causing it to close.

    Vikir''s gaze met him.

    ''... He''s a good person.''

    A strange voice shed through Piggy''s head for a moment.

    "Huh?"

    Piggy''s head jerked from side to side in surprise, but no one was speaking to him except for Vikir.

    ''...What was that?''

    It was a tinnitus he often heard, but it had never been as clear as it was now, so Piggy looked a bit puzzled.

    ''Come to think of it, I think I used to have these visions when I was at the Academy.''

    As Piggy pondered this, Vikir spoke up.

    "Piggy. Do you think I could borrow some of your blood?"

    "Of course, if I can be of any help!"

    Vikir quickly obtained a few drops of blood from Piggy.

    With Piggy''s blood on him, Beelzebub shoots a long line of blood into the air.

    Crackle-!

    The space within the Hell Tree began to twist and tear.

    It was the same phenomenon as before.

    "We''ll ambush the demon as soon as we get out. He won''t be expecting us."

    Everyone''s faces hardened with tension.

    This is the second time they''re striking first against an opponent they''ve already lost to once, so the pressure is on.

    But unlike the first time, everyone''s faces are much brighter.

    This time, they had an ally they didn''t have in their first attempt.

    Vikir ended his speech with a short sentence.

    "...Let''s go out and give him a blow."

    His voice sounded just as reliable as it had four years ago.

 Chapter 435: Dreaming the Impossible Dream (1)

    <h4>Chapter 435: Dreaming the Impossible Dream (1)</h4>

    Crackle-!

    The sudden crack in the air was enough to scare Passamonte.

    "What''s this!?"

    What happens inside the Hell Tree is unknown to anyone but its master, Amdusias himself.

    Passamonte was horrified to see the zing portal and the sword protruding from it.

    Suddenly, a thick fog formed in front of his eyes, and he began to hear and see strange things.

    ''...He''s a good person.''

    A voice as weak and unsteady as thest breath of a dying animal, unknown in source and identity.

    Passamonte''s ears flicked back, and a strange vision began to form before his eyes.

    Swamps of blood and flesh, mountains of bones, an atmosphere drained of all mana, and giant mushroom clouds rising over the distant horizon.

    ...And an endless, barren desert.

    ...A massive tower stands tall in the middle of the desert.

    ...An old man in ck walking lonely and alone toward the Tower.

    Each vision pierces his mind in fragmented pieces.

    "What, these are Amdusias''s memories, what did that bastard see before he died?"

    Passamonte rubbed his temples as if he was dumbfounded.

    An undiscovered substance that twisted thews of causality. Something with the power to close spaces opened by demons.

    It probably has something to do with that sword that''s creating the cracks before his eyes.

    ... Then, it tore open the gate to the Hell Tree, revealing Vikir within.

    Passamonte asked in disbelief.

    "What did you tear open the Hell Tree with? It doesn''t seem to be the sword''s inherent power."

    "Blood."

    "Whose?"

    Passamonte repeated his puzzlement at Vikir''s short answer.

    But he was under no obligation to answer the question.

    Vikir drew his de out at length.

    "Find out for yourself."

    At the same time, the fastest and most efficient swordsmanship, the 4th Baskerville Form, unfolded.

    Passamonte grunted and jumped to his feet as Vikir''s killing blow stretched out as naturally as breathing.

    ...kwakwang!

    The stone pir shattered into pieces, raising a cloud of dust.

    Behind Vikir stood Dolores, Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir, all of whom also wore grim expressions.

    And as the dust cleared, the true enemy hiding in the Don Quixote family appeared before them.

    ck armor, ck skin underneath, and an all-epassing ckness that obscured his eyes and nose, but revealed his white, sharp teeth.

    He held arge spear in his hand, and his lower body was fused with the body of a ck horse, with only the horse''s head remaining as a skeleton.

    With a searing aura covering his entire body like a mane, the ck knight was no longer named Don Quixote La Mancha Passamonte.

    <Cimeries the 4th Corpse>

    Danger Rating : S+

    Size: ?

    Found in: ''Serpent''s Womb'', deep within the Gate of Destruction

    -Also known as ''4th Corpse''.

    One of the Ten gues, natural enemies of mankind, iprehensible and unkible.

    "A swarm of reckless frogs shall arise."

    �C The Ten Commandments 10: Top �C

    ''Reckless Knight'' Cimeries.

    It was the appearance of the sixth mastermind of the Age of Destruction.

    Vikir gave a brief warning to hisrades behind him.

    "His breath will give you an unfounded sense of confidence and exaltation that will cloud your judgment. Avoid breathing as much as possible in closebat."

    Like a frog that puffs up its belly to match its size with a bull, only to have its skin burst and die, Cimeries has a strange ability to make its enemies reckless.

    Combine this with the power of Dantalian and Belial, both skilled in military strategy and tactics, and the results can be devastating.

    It''s one of the main reasons the Alliance has lost so many battles in a row.

    Even before Vikir''s regression, Don Quixote''s Invincible Cavalry, brainwashed by Cimeries, charged the windmill with their horses, only to be annihted in vain.

    ''We must get rid of him now, before the cataclysm. And Don Quixote must be restored.''

    Vikir took a step forward, his resolve unwavering.

    "Vikir, I''ll support you!"

    Dolores stood beside him and offered her support.

    Their souls, now in perfect resonance with each other, generated a great amplitude and manifested it in the form of an aura.

    kwakwakwang!

    Vikir''s sword and Cimeries''s spear shed.

    The result was a whistle.

    Neither Vikir nor Cimeries took a step back from each other as they continued with the next move.

    kwaang! kkang- ujijijijig!

    The ck storm created as the spear rotates twists and turns to take the shape of a huge snake.

    The tooth-shaped traces created by the sword gathered in one ce and became the shape of arge sphere.

    Like a snake with its jaws open, about to swallow the sun.

    In the midst of the fierce battle, Vikir and Cimeries continue to sh, with their bodies supporting the pressure that threatens to burst.

    Boom-!

    Once the spear was extended, a hole was created in the severalyered castle wall.

    ...Boom!

    With a single swing of the sword, everything behind him was sliced away, revealing a clear view of the outside of the castle.

    [Incredible. How could a human possess such power...]

    While Cimeries was muttering in disbelief, Vikir was also having thoughts of his own.

    ''The power of Cimeries is much the same as it was before the regression. The demons have gotten impatient and are building up their power in a hurry, and it will be dangerous if I take any more time.''

    It''s not just the Fourth, it''s the Third, the Second, and the First.

    Vikir decided to hurry things up a bit more.

    "Let''s do it."

    Normally, he would have handled whatever was going on on his own, but... this was different.

    Dolores, Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir''s faces lit up at Vikir''s request for help.

    "Let me help!"

    "Trust me, my friend!"

    "I''ve been training hard, and I''m more than capable of holding my own!"

    "Take my blood!"

    "Just look at the gap, boys!"

    "Brother, fight from a little distance, I''ll cover you with magic!"

    Dolores''s holy shield, Tudor''s spear, Sancho''s axe, Piggy''s sword, Bianca''s arrow, and Sinir''s magic formed a colorful aura and flew out to intercept Cimeries.

    [Keughh! These annoying things...!?]

    Cimeries spun his spear around andunched a blow toward the back.

    [Long time no see, Cimeries].

    The red-hot inverted pentagram created by Decarabia was blocking Cimeries'' blow.

    Before Cimmeries could even shout something.

    ...puug!

    Night Hound sank its teeth into the nape of its prey''s neck.

    The teeth, now muchrger and sharper due to the saintess''s blessing, sank into the demon''s flesh with ease.

    [Keughhhh!]

    Bubbling froth began to rise from Cimeries''s mouth.

    ppudeudeug!

    Cimeries stepped back, risking the flesh of his neck being ripped off in chunks.

    Then, out of the horse''s chest cavity, Pasamonte''s face emerged.

    He began to open his mouth, dripping with tears.

    [Yes. I will admit that you guys are annoying enemies.]

    He spoke with a hint of reserve, which was to be expected.

    This was their that Cimeries had spent so much time working on.

    It is he who now holds the reins of power in Don Quixote.

    [Then I will respond with all my might].

    With that, Cimeries pulled out a blue whistle and ced it in Pasamonte''s mouth.

    Tudor was the first to recognize what it was.

    "That''s the horn of the Invincible Cavalry!"

    Cimeries had already summoned the cavalry, which was already out on the field of battle, back to the main house.

    And soon, the results began to show.

    Ttuuuuu-

    A whistle sounded, and the floor began to vibrate slightly.

    Dudeudeudeudeudeudeu...

    Tiny pieces of stone bounced and danced across the floor.

    Dolores and Sinir''s faces hardened.

    "This sound is...."

    "It''s the sound of horses running!"

    The sound of countless horses galloping from far away.

    Don Quixote, who heard the summons order from the head of the family, was returning with the strongest power of the Invincible Cavalry!

    The two pirs that symbolize Don Quixote, the ''Invincible Cavalry'' and the ''Invincible Armada''. And those who were now gathering were the full force of the Invincible Cavalry.

    Tudor shouted.

    "Vikir, Don Quixote''s Invincible Cavalry is as powerful as the Seven Counts of Baskerville, and if they join the battle, we have no chance of winning!"

    It was fortunate that the sea level had dropped too low for the Invincible Armada to reach these shores.

    If it had been apanied by a fleet bombardment, there would have been no answer.

    Vikir parried a flying spear and opened his mouth.

    "The Invincible Cavalry, I know their power."

    Even they would have been rendered reckless by the power of Cimeries.

    No matter how strong Vikir was, he would be no match for all the knights of the Invincible Cavalry who would blindly charge at him.

    ... However.

    In the face of all these odds, Vikir remained calm.

    "But there is no need to worry. I have a n for the Invincible Cavalry."

    Suddenly, beyond the tattered wall, the form of the Invincible Cavalry came into view.

    Don Quixote''s Invincible Cavalry, charging over the long horizon, was indeed overwhelming from afar.

    ...However.

    kung!

    A strange thing began to happen.

    One of the knights who was running furiously at the forefront fell from his horse and rolled on the ground.

    The horse tripped on something and fell.

    kwakwakwang! ujijijig!

    The same thing began to happen one after another.

    The cavalry, which had been charging at a terrifying pace, was thrown to the ground along with their horses.

    It was caused by a hook sprouting from the ground.

    The ground was littered with tiny traps, just the right size to catch a foot in, that looked like tiny iron skewers bent into arches.

    The Invincible Cavalry can''t keep up with the speed of the rush, and they get caught in these traps.

    Charging speeds diminished in an instant. Copsing disys.

    [No, what the hell is going on!?]

    Cimeries'' mouth drops open as he watches the Invincible Cavalry struggling, unable to even make it to the shoreline, let alone the main castle.

    The situation was so ridiculous that even the demons were stunned.

    And at the same time.

    Flutter.

    A long, reddish streamer of blood fluttered from the roof of the opposite spire.

    "Hey, boyfriend, over here!"

    All eyes turned to the top of the spire at the sound of a cheerful voice.

    The owner of a trap for hunting only cavalry, who stuck countless skewers into the ground and bent them so that they were not visible to the eye.

    A woman standing bravely with an expression that reveals the wait, confidence, and reward of the past four years.

    Morg Camus stood there.

 Chapter 436: Dreaming the Impossible Dream (2)

    <h4>Chapter 436: Dreaming the Impossible Dream (2)</h4>

    Raw red hair that crackled like fire.

    She stood tall and curved with maturity.

    After four years, her face had lost a lot of fat.

    "You''re here!"

    Her eyes sparkled as soon as she saw Vikir and she started waving.

    "Kyaah, boyfriend, it''s been a while!"

    When Camus waved her hand, dark clouds gathered around her.

    pudeudeug- pudeug- pudeudeudeug-

    Upon closer inspection, he realized they were ck-feathered flying birds.

    Countless crows and magpies had gathered and were building bridges.

    Camus walked across the bridge, which must have been hundreds of meters long, to Vikir.

    She walked with a haphazard gait, like a model on the runway.

    "...."

    Vikir was silent for a moment.

    His emotionless expression faltered slightly.

    Then, Camus threw herself into Vikir''s arms.

    "You''ve grown so tall! Well grown, eum!"

    After staring at Vikir for a long moment, Camus turns her head to look at the group behind her.

    "...Uh, well, hello to you guys.."

    It was a rtively more substantial greeting.

    Dolores, Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir greeted Camus as well.

    Camus, too, was a member of the Night Walkers, a fellow Colosseo Academy member, albeit only for a few months.

    ''Why should I go to school here if Vikir isn''t here?''

    The legend of Camus, who had dropped out as soon as she enrolled, had been a legend at Colosseo Academy for some time.

    Dolores greeted her in a calm voice.

    "It''s been a while, Queen of the Night."

    "Uh. It''s been a while for you, too. Doesn''t it get a little cringe calling me by that nickname?"

    "The namees from ''Night Hound,'' which was Vikir''s working name."

    "Of course our Night Hound is awesome!"

    Camus again grabbed Vikir''s arm who was next to her.

    A thin line of blood appeared on Dolores and Sinir''s foreheads as they watched.

    Sinir stepped between Vikir and Camus and asked.

    "Speaking of which, how''d things go at Morg''s ce? I hear you''re bringing reinforcements...."

    "Of course, I''m a delegate to the Dark Hall."

    Camus replied, her eyes shining.

    Earlier, Camus had promised the Night Walkers his loyal support as head of Morg''s Dark Hall.

    ...!

    It was stated that the support would only be for one task, which was to track Vikir''s whereabouts, confirm his safety, and safely deliver him to a specific location.

    The ce where Camus herself was!

    "I was informed that you had escaped, and of course I assumed that you had, of course, the method of prison escape waspletely unexpected... but whatever. I''ve since unleashed the full force of Morg''s army to search the coasts of any ind of continent you might have washed up on!"

    As she finished speaking, she turned and held up something toward the stiffly standing Tudor.

    It was an iron skewer. A small, simple, and deadly tool that had stopped the charge of the Invincible Cavalry.

    "You don''t have one of these in your house, do you?"

    "...No, of course not. Why would I have such a thing?"

    "You should be grateful. I could have used this thing without bending it, just to keep me upright."

    If Camus had done that, Don Quixote''s Invincible Cavalry would have been a disaster.

    They should be thankful that the horses and knights didn''t turn into sausages and rice cakes on skewers.

    Tudor gazed at the chaos on the horizon with mixed feelings.

    Normally, the Invincible Cavalry would have sidestepped such a trap with ease, but with Cimeries''s brainwashing, it was impossible to do so while riding blindly straight ahead.

    Now, all eyes turned to the culprit.

    Cimeries. The fourth mastermind of the Age of Destruction.

    He grinds his sharp teeth into the gaping mouth in the center of his face.

    [So there''s an ambush force after all. A ck mage who absorbed Seree].

    Cimeries seemed to sense Seree''s aura on Camus.

    But demons are demons. Cimeries rxed, as if he had already prepared for every possibility.

    [I thought that you humans would surely strive to restore Don Quixote''s nature. Do you think I did not anticipate this?]

    At this, Cimeries lifted the face of Pasamonte, which was buried in the horse''s breastte.

    His gaze was fixed on Bianca, who stood beside Tudor.

    [Usher Poe Bianca, I''ll tell you why I tried to capture you].

    As soon as the words were finished, something strange happened on the outer castle and walls surrounding the spire.

    cheog-cheog-cheog-cheog-cheog-cheog!

    A group of gray-cloaked snipers raised their bows and arrows in unison and pointed them in this direction.

    Bianca''s face paled as she realized what was happening.

    "...God Killer Sniper Squad (�񚢾ѓ��M)."

    A group of snipersposed entirely of Usher''s enemies.

    A fearsome group that specializes in assassinations, especially those at extremely long range, they are monsters that make up over 90% of Usher''s power.

    Their presence here represents a united front of the demons that consumed Don Quixote and the demons that consumed Usher.

    Why do they want to take Bianca and Tudors alive, when they could just take their heads if they wanted to get rid of them statically? Wouldn''t that be much easier?

    It was now clear why Pedro wanted to capture Bianca as well as Tudor.

    Bianca looked back at Vikir with an urgent expression.

    "It''s bad! Usher''s sniper squad is here! Dad said if they all got together, they could kill a god!"

    "...."

    Vikir nodded in agreement.

    The Usher Family was the smallest of the seven Great Families of the Empire, but it was precisely because of the presence of the God Killer Snipers that they had never been overpowered by the others.

    Cimeries grinned from ear to ear.

    [Once the Usher Family''s God Killer Sniper Squadys an ambush, even if the best of the other six families gathered together, they would not be able to avoid annihtion! Who doesn''t know that?]

    There were many obstacles blocking their view, so it was impossible to see the entirety of the God Killer Sniper Group''s ambush.

    However, the sharp sensation of killing intent everywhere told everyone that this ce was alreadypletely surrounded.

    Obstacles meant nothing.

    There was no hiding from the sniping of the God Killer Snipers, who could pierce through centimeters of armor with ease.

    Cimeries shouted loud enough to be heard by all of the Killing Squad''s assassins in ambush.

    [Shoot! Kill them all!]

    Wrapping his armor around himself, Cimeries didn''t hesitate to give the order to concentrate fire.

    And then.

    ...peong!

    The first sniper shot flew in.

    It shot through severalyers of walls, piercing through the floor and into the floor below.

    It was followed by a shower of thick arrows.

    dudududududu-

    Just as the hooves of the Invincible Cavalry''s horses pounded the ground, so did the arrows of the God Killer Sniper Squad.

    jjiiing...

    Vikir channels all of his mana into Decarabia.

    The Red inverted pentagram''s shields blocked arrow after arrow from the God Killer Snipe.

    All of the Night Walkers, including Camus, rallied around Vikir, shielding themselves with Decarabia''s shield.

    kwakwang! kwang! peoeong-

    Each arrow from the God Killer Snipers struck the outer surface of Decarabia, causing it to vibrate with a loud explosion.

    Watching the rain of sniper fire, the Night Walkers all thought the same thing.

    ''...What the hell? Is it more bearable than I thought?.''

    The God Killer Snipers were fast, powerful, and urate, but their numbers were too small.

    The rate of fire was slow, and the spacing between arrows was far too wide... No, it didn''t seem like one man was using that many arrows in the first ce.

    This was evident by the fact that once an arrow flew, it never flew back in the same direction.

    With only a handful of people, the God Killer Sniper group that had made the Usher family the strongest in the Empire was so weak?

    Just when everyone was questioning in their minds.

    [...What is this?]

    Cimeries was thinking the same thing.

    He stuck his head out and scanned the outer walls.

    Sure enough, there were noticeably fewer men with bows and sniping.

    Even if they were a small minority, their numbers were too small to utilize the power of ambushes and focused barrages.

    [This isn''t a small group, it''s just a small number! What the hell, where are they all?]

    Dolores, Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinir, seeing Cimeries'' confusion, were just as puzzled.

    Then.

    Camus''s voice was heard as she wrapped her arms around Vikir''s waist.

    "But boyfriend- I''ve missed you so much, so please stop running away, I''m tired of chasing you, although it doesn''t matter because I always have a good idea where you''ll end up...."

    At that, everyone looked back at Vikir with puzzled expressions.

    Tudor was the first to speak.

    "Vikir. Wasn''t it Camus you were talking about as a backup n? From what I''ve heard you talking, it sounds like you''re meeting for the first time."

    "Nope. She''s just here."

    Vikir denied it in a low voice.

    Camusughed in disbelief.

    "I''ve been scouring the coast and deserted inds, and I don''t have anything in mind."

    Whatever. Vikir hadn''t been talking about a secret n.

    ''Then what?''

    The same question pops into everyone''s head.

    ...kwakwakwakwang!

    A loud explosion erupted from the ramparts outside.

    A wave of aura that fluctuates like crazy.

    The corner of the castle wall copsing and the God Killer Sniper Squad falling down.

    It was a scene that made Cimeries'' jaw drop.

    "Pushishishi- it''s dusty. Get over there and y, old man."

    "Shut up or I''ll have to arrest you once more, you old, raggedy escapee."

    A skinny old man with a whip in his hand, smirking.

    Next to him is a big old man with a heavy club.

    Two old men were walking up the ramparts, making small talk.

    But what they were about to aplish was anything but small talk.

    jjaag- kwakwang!

    With a single stroke of the whip, the assassins of the God Killer Sniper Squad were sent scrambling out of the way, and with a single strike of the club, the sturdy walls crumbled to the ground.

    "So many Imperial guards and spearmen have been killed~ This is why the revolution at that time should have been sessful"

    "What kind of revolution is that? It''s a riot. Cut the crap and do what you were asked to do."

    "Anyone would think you ordered me to do this, Drew."

    "I''m not like you. I''ll pay for my food."

    Two old men walked up, blowing away the elite of the Usher family.

    Marquis de Sade, the mastermind of the 47 Men''s Riot.

    And Orca, the head warden of Nouvelle Vague.

    They stood side by side, looking up at Vikir.

 Chapter 437: Dreaming the Impossible Dream (3)

    <h4>Chapter 437: Dreaming the Impossible Dream (3)</h4>

    Marquis de Sade and Major General Orca.

    Two figures who were said to have thebat power of a single fortress joined hands.

    "Pushishishi- The Ushers who chased me in the past were a little spicier, but this one is nd, so I like it."

    "Cut the chit-chat, prison escapee. There''s still plenty left."

    Marquis de Sade and Major General Orca were strolling through the Ushers'' God Killer Sniper Squad like it was a walk in the park.

    But the changes that were taking ce around them were staggering.

    Chararararak-

    Sade''s whip moves like a giant snake, slicing through the assassins on the ramparts.

    The bizarrely twisting and contorting whip shes and shes at everything it touches, sending a gale of blood around it.

    kwang! kwa-ang! kung-

    Orca''s club brushed aside the flying arrows with such ease that when they weren''t flying, it swung like a drumstick toward the ground.

    Each time it struck the ramparts, it sent out a tremendous seismic wave, sending enemies tumbling down the walls.

    Sade on offense and Orca on defense.

    Theirbination was a strange supeposition of D''Ordume and Souare''s back in Nouvelle Vague.

    Moreover, Sade is not only good at attacking, and Orca is not only good at defense.

    Sade''s whip moved like a monster''s tongue, twisting and mping down on flying arrows, while Orca''s clubs turned any assassin who got too close into a bloody mess with a single blow.

    It was a perfect disy, a circle of dozens of meters in radius centered on the two old men, and no one was allowed to enter it.

    Bianca''s jaw dropped at the sight of it all.

    "Who are those people, my family''s God Killer Sniper Squad...."

    No wonder she was surprised.

    The God Killer Snipers, belonging to one of the Seven Great Families, are the core power of Usher.

    But when Cimeries recognized the faces of Marquis de Sade and Major General Orca, his expression crumpled into a grimace.

    [Aren''t they the remnants of the 47-man riots? Why are they gathered here?]

    Sade and Orca''s gazes turned in unison, as if in agreement.

    "Remnants''? Is that what you just said to me?"

    "Maybe it''s because you''re a demon, but you don''t understand the world. Come here."

    At the same time, Sade''s whip and Orca''s club flew into the air.

    Buuuung-

    A serpentine aura and a tidal wave of auras swept over Cimeries at once.

    It was a shockwave powerful enough to bring down an entire spire.

    [...Keugh!?]

    Cimeries leapt into the air to escape the storm of auras that crumbled beneath his feet.

    "Who says remnant?"

    He gasped at the eerie voice from above.

    Sade was hovering over Cimeries''s head,ughing a menacingugh.

    peo-eog!

    A bundle of whips, rolled short in severalyers, crashed down like a thunderbolt over Cimeries''s head.

    Unable to scream, Cimeries tumbled toward the ground.

    And below, an Orca holding a club was waiting.

    jjeoeog!

    The club hits Cimeries, sending him flying through the city walls.

    Charrak-!

    Sade''s whip struck again as Cimeries flew.

    This time, the longsh tightens around Cimeries''s waist, and Sade spins it around like a clockwork.

    kwa-kwakwakwakwakwakwakwakwang!

    Cimeries spun in a circle, still bound to the whip, and began to smash every bump in the ramparts, tearing up the ground around him.

    [Kuaaaaaaaaaaghhh-]

    When Cimeries, who had barely escaped the whip, staggered out of the copse.

    kwagig-

    Eight teeth sank into the nape of Cimeries'' neck again.

    It was Vikir, casting a shadow like that of the Grim Reaper upon Cimeries''s back.

    "Demons kill."

    [How dare you, human...!]

    Cimeries had just opened his mouth.

    peog-peog-peog-peog-peog!

    Countless iron skewers protruded from the ground and pierced Cimeries''s body.

    Behind Vikir, Camus was smirking.

    "A perfect reunion gift for my boyfriend."

    Over the shoulder of the cheerful Camus, Seere looked very small and sulky.

    [Se, Seere... you dare betray us?]

    [Huh-huh- I''m not doing this because I like it either.]

    [Shut up! If he finds out about this, you bitch...!]

    But Cimeries didn''t get to finish his sentence.

    ...Quack!

    Sancho''s axe, Piggy''s sword, and Bianca''s arrows came crashing down on him.

    kkwadeudeudeudeug-

    A golden grip emerged from the ground, pinning Cimeries to the ground, unable to budge.

    Sinir''s magic followed.

    [Kuaggghh!]

    Cimeries turned to ck smoke and tried to escape, but it was impossible.

    paas-

    Dolores'' white shroud had imprisoned Cimeries.

    "Lengthen your neck."

    Vikir''s 8 teeth sliced ferociously across Cimeries'' body.

    Cimeries stretched out his spear to strike back, but it was blocked by Decarabia.

    "Pushishishi...."

    "This side is clear."

    Where Vikir looked up, he saw Sade and Orca standing.

    In the center of a pile of broken spears and arrows, the two old men stared down at Don Quixote and Usher as they held their attackers by the throat and head.

    Vikir knew it was time to end it all.

    [Kuhughhh- Kuhugghhh- Blood, if it weren''t for that ''blood'', damn it! I was wondering why Amdusias got killed!]

    Cimeries cried out in frustration.

    But Vikir left him no chance.

    Having cut off Cimeries'' ankles and wrists, Vikir prepared for the final blow.

    He was going to destroy his heart cleanly.

    Then.

    "Vikir. Wait."

    A voice interrupted Vikir.

    Tudor. Don Quixote La Mancha Tudor.

    He approached, his eyes fixed on Vikir.

    His one arm gripped Gungnir, the spear of the Spear King, firmly.

    "Let me do this."

    Tudor''s gaze was hard and determined.

    But Vikir refused.

    "No."

    "...Why?"

    Tudor''s voice was filled with frustration.

    But Vikir was adamant.

    "If you bathe in the demon''sst drops of blood, fate will change. Causality will be twisted."

    No matter how lucky you are, it can''t end well as long as you''re with the demon''s end.

    A twisted and warped causality leads the Demon Hunter''s path to a bad ce.

    So the end of a Demon Hunter''s fate is usually dark and lonely.

    However.

    "It''s okay, this is what I choose to do."

    Tudor chose to be a Demon Hunter himself.

    It''s no wonder he''s so adamant about it.

    Also, Tudor''s past destinies have left him covered in demon blood, so perhaps this is what he was meant to do.

    "...."

    After a short silence, Vikir quietly took a step back.

    It was a gesture of trust.

    "Thank you."

    Tudor bowed his head toward Vikir.

    Then he turned to Piggy next to him and asked.

    "Piggy, do you think I could get some of your blood? For some reason, your blood seems to be poisonous to demons."

    "Sure!"

    Piggy nodded at Tudor''s request and shed his arm with the sword.

    The dark red blood that flowed from his body stained the de of Tudor''s spear, Gungnir.

    "...."

    Tudor lowered his gaze to look at Cimeres crawling on the floor.

    Beneath Cimeries''s gaping mouth, at the base of his face, across his chest, was still the face of Pasamonte.

    A heart peeked out from beneath the flesh around the gaping wound, The heart is visible through the surrounding wounds and ck flesh that were split and torn by Vikir.

    Passamonte''s face was distorted, wrapped around the heart of Cimeries.

    Then, from between Tudor lips, a dry voice spoke.

    "To dream the impossible dream (So?ar lo imposible so?ar)."

    Gungnir, the double-ded spear, raised its head.

    "To ovee the unbeatable rival (Vencer al invicto rival)."

    Tears of blood trickle from his blood-red eyes.

    "To endure the unbearable pain (Sufrir el dolor insufrible)."

    His heart, pounding as if it were about to burst, squeezed out the strength that had been his at the beginning of his life.

    "To die for a noble ideal (Morir por un noble ideal)."

    All this to fulfill a true knight''s duty and obligation.

    ...No.

    "It is not a duty, but a privilege (Su deber no Su privilegio)."

    With Tudor''sst words, the King''s Spear Gungnir pierced the air.

    peo-eog!

    The sound of torn leather and the destruction of the vile mass of flesh that lurked within.

    The veins of malice coursing through the creature''s veins were severed, spewing out all the foul things it contained.

    Cimeries struggled hard, scratching at the ground, but Tudor''s spear, pierced through his heart and embedded in the ground, did not budge.

    [The Great... Gate went... The Era of the Demons...]

    Cimeries muttered something in a fading voice, and then fell back in a heap.

    He never moved again.

    The fourth protagonist, who was leading the world to destruction, left the stage.

    And the focus shifts to the neer to the stage.

    ck blood. Demonic blood.

    Covered in it, Tudor boldly embraces it, never taking a step back.

    Tudor''s eyes shine through the demon''s ck blood, clear and pure and righteous.

    Vikir had seen it before.

    In the world before the Regression, in the Age of Destruction, when mortal fate, when all things burned and died.

    The eyes of a hero who lived and died at the forefront of his time, fiercest and hottest.

    Don Quixote La Mancha Tudor, King of the Spears.

    The will of a great hero who would lead theing era.

 Chapter 438: Dreaming the Impossible Dream(4)

    <h4>Chapter 438: Dreaming the Impossible Dream(4)</h4>

    The restoration of Don Quixote, the Spearman.

    The knights who roamed the vast expanse of the sea with a single spear were freed from demonic control and served their rightful masters.

    Don Quixote La Mancha Tudor. He is the heir to the former head of the family, Cervantes, and the true owner of the Don Quixote family. The Lion King.

    The exiled young lion returned to the family as an adult and avenged his father''s enmity by ying his evil uncle.

    In normal times, this would have turned the entire empire upside down, but in these times, issues of this magnitude are rarely publicized.

    It was a time of civil war, with thousands and tens of thousands of people dying every day.

    However, the normalization of the Don Quixote family was a great blessing for the Night Walkers.

    "The supply routes are finally open again."

    Dolores said cheerfully.

    The supply lines that the demons had cut had been reopened.

    Food and water were finally flowing back into Fort Tochka.

    The ever-increasing number of refugees could have caused great chaos.

    "...."

    Vikir stared at the view of Tochka from the conference room window.

    High, thick walls.

    A teau where oxygen is scarce.

    A rocky teau surrounded by sheer cliffs.

    It is definitely a tall and lonely fortress with iron walls.

    "The only problem is that we don''t have enough drinking water. It would be nice to be able to get our own, at least there''s a section over one of the mountains where I suspect there''s a water source."

    Dolores looked at the map and muttered wistfully.

    But Vikir''s demeanor was unperturbed.

    "The water problem will be solved soon enough."

    "...?"

    Dolores and the others looked puzzled, but Vikir didn''t say anything more.

    At that moment, Tudor, at one end of the table, spoke up.

    "We now have aplete picture of the power situation in the Don Quixote family."

    Tudor, the new head of the Don Quixote family, had decided to cooperate fully with the Night Walkers.

    It was a natural progression.

    "We''vepletely rooted out the demons, and reinstated all those who have been purged or cast out."

    "How many of them can fight?"

    Vikir asked, and Tudor didn''t hesitate to reveal all the ssified documents.

    "Surprisingly, it''s not too bad, about sixty percent of them are intact, but most of them are in the fleet. The cavalry took too much damage this time...."

    As Tudor spoke, he nced at the people around him.

    Camus was sitting there with her arms crossed.

    "Well. Are you saying that I''m to me for the destruction of your family''s cavalry?"

    "Oh, no. It''s not like that. The reason the Invincible Cavalry suffered so much damage was because they were brainwashed by demons and kept running in circles around the civil war zone. Who else could I me but my ipetence and the wicked demons themselves?"

    Tudor smirked.

    But it would not be aughing matter.

    Don Quixote''s pride of Invincible Cavalry had been nearly wiped out.

    Even if he avenged his father''s enemies and skinned the demon to make the tassels that hang down the des of his spears, it would not be enough.

    Vikir gazed at the strap of Cimeries''s leash hanging from the base of Tudor spear Gungnir and spoke.

    "It will make the knights around you braver. Carry it with you at all times."

    "...Thank you."

    Nodding toward Vikir, Tudor continued.

    "Still, Don Quixote''s Invincible Armada has remainedrgely unscathed and unharmed. It must be that the sea level has dropped significantly, preventing the fleet from reaching the coast, which hasn''t been very helpful in the civil war."

    Vikir''s eyes sharpened at Tudor''s words.

    "That''s enough."

    It was Don Quixote''s Invincible Armada that had interested Vikir the most.

    Many people had questioned that.

    "But, brother, why do we need an Invincible Armada so much? We''re in the middle of a civil war in the center of the continent, and there''s not much of a naval battle going on, is there? Even if it''s because of the supply routes by sea, the fleet won''t be of much use now that the sea level has dropped so much?"

    Sinir''s question was on the minds of everyone in the room.

    Vikir looked up from the map to answer this point.

    "Soon the fleet will be very important. And when that momentes, Tochka''s water crisis will be solved...."

    Right then. Vikir was interrupted by a voice.

    "Pushishishi- that damn meeting, meeting, meeting. What kind of boring shit do you do every day without getting tired of it?"

    There aren''t many in the group who can interrupt Vikir in the first ce.

    Marquis de Sade, who was staring at Vikir with a bored-to-death expression on his face.

    "Vikir. You know that, right? There are now two left."

    Sade held up two fingers and smirked.

    When he had escaped from Nouvelle Vague, Sade had been indebted to Vikir.

    In return, he had promised to kill up to three people of Vikir''s choosing, which is why he''s been following him ever since.

    Orca, sitting next to Sade with his arms crossed, is a simr story.

    "Unlike this escapee, I''m a man of my word. You said I''d protect up to three people you wanted, and now there are two left."

    Sade was referring to Passamonte, Orca was referring to Tudor.

    Both had been indirectly killed and indirectly protected, but it had helped, so that was enough.

    " ...I remember that well."

    Vikir nodded and looked away.

    "Is CindyWendy still here? We need to know what happened to Usher so we can figure out our next move."

    "I''m afraid not."

    The door to the conference room opened before Vikir could finish his sentence.

    CindyWendy, clutching a stack of papers, walked around the corner of the table and sat down.

    "Aren''t you working your soon-to-be sister-inw a little too hard these days?"

    "I thought you didn''t like being associated with the Baskervilles?"

    CindyWendy smirked at Vikir''sment.

    "People change, and I was able to put the Baskervilles out of my mind some time ago."

    "...."

    "What about you, are you still carrying it around?"

    Vikir''s mouth fell open at that, and he remained silent for a long moment.

    CindyWendy had joined forces with the Baskervilles, who had destroyed her family.

    She imed to be a hostess and to rule over the Baskervilles, but in reality, she hadpromised and given up her vengeance.

    "Enough with the chatter."

    Everyone in the room flinched at the sound of Vikir''s unusually sharp voice.

    Had she touched the reverse scale?

    Vikir''s voice was sharp enough to make even the mighty Sade and Orca cringe.

    This was Vikir''s true self, rarely seen except when dealing with demons.

    However, CindyWendy quickly changed the subject with her characteristic smirk.

    "Oh, my God, you look just like you did when you were standing outside the prison bars, nothing has changed."

    She shoved a stack of papers in front of Vikir.

    "I''m scared, so I''ll just cut to the chase."

    As usual, CindyWendy cut to the chase.

    1. Signs that the Empire''s civil war is about to escte.

    2. An alliance between the Morg and Baskervilles.

    3. An alliance between the Quovadis and Bourgeois.

    4. Leviathan and Usher form an alliance.

    5. Don Quixote''s deration of neutrality and sealing of the gates.

    "...um. Other than that, the only thing I can think of is that the Quovadis dered a crusade against the Leviathan because of the Red Death. You know that Don Quixote deres neutrality and stays out of the civil war because Lord Tudor himself said so."

    The Quovadis dered a crusade against the Leviathan in the aftermath of the Red Death long ago.

    By their very nature,rge group movements are slow to get started, but once they do, they pick up tremendous speed.

    Don Quixote decided to close the family for a time to repair the damage done by the civil war and due to various procedures for changing the head of the family.

    Of course, it''s only a nominal blockade, and since Tudor became the head of the family, it was natural for the Don Quixote family to secretly support Night Walkers.

    Camus set her chin and looked at Vikir.

    "We''ve joined forces, haven''t we? Looks like mom''s decided to go all in and back the second prince. The one we don''t know where he is, or if he even exists in the first ce."

    "Perhaps it''s more about keeping the First Prince in check than actually following the Second, since we Quovadis are in the same position."

    Dolores spoke up, looking at Vikir across from Camus.

    Their gazes met in the air, and Sinir reached behind Vikir''s back, over his shoulder, and pointed to the map.

    "Our Bourgeois are still looking for the Second Prince, and the rumors of imperial enrollment in the Academy are our best lead at the moment."

    Civil war is all about cause.

    The demons rally under a single goal, while the humans are pitted against each other under many banners.

    Vikir thought of the rumored Second Prince.

    Before his regression, the second prince had ultimately disappeared into thin air.

    A mysterious figure whose existence was never really known.

    ''If he really is alive somewhere, maybe he could have united humanity sooner.''

    Vikir''s mind wandered this far, and he lifted his head to look at CindyWendy.

    "Of the Seven Families of the Empire, which one is the knowledgeable in information?"

    "...Hmm. That''s right, it''s God Killer. The Usher Family, of course, since they have the most people who specialize in assassination and infiltration."

    Just as CindyWendy was finishing her answer, the door to the conference room opened as if by appointment.

    Bianca, looking furious, addressed everyone.

    "The members of the God Killer Sniper Squad have been unbrainwashed, and I''ve heard all about what''s going on within the Family."

    At the same time, Vikir''s eyes sank deeply.

    The Usher had not yet been freed from their demonic possession and were one of the key yers in this civil war.

    Now that the Don Quixote family has been restored, there is no family more threatening than Leviathan and Usher.

    And it is Usher Poe Madeline who currently leads them.

    The presumed third of the Ten Corpses.

    Drac-

    The first to rise from his seat upon hearing Bianca''s words was none other than Tudor.

    It was Bianca who saved Tudor at the moment of Don Quixote''s downfall.

    And now Tudor, Vikir, and all the other friends were reaching out to Bianca.

    "Come with us. Perhaps your family can be saved."

    "...."

    Light returned to Bianca''s eyes, which had been ck and dead.

    At the same time, her cheeks were turning red.

    "We must hurry. We must drive on before news of Don Quixote reaches them."

    At Vikir''s words, the eyes of all the Night Walkers burned with determination.

    "Pushishishi- So we have our second objective now?"

    "This will reduce our debt."

    Sade and Orca followed Vikir to their feet.

    The second demon hunt was about to begin.

    This was extremely unusual for Vikir''s hunting patterns, as he usually left a long gap between hunts.

 Chapter 439: The Fall of Usher (1)

    <h4>Chapter 439: The Fall of Usher (1)</h4>

    The Night Walkers traveled through the night to Usher''s territory.

    And filled with deste wastnds, swamps, and tall rocks.

    On an ind in the center of a deep swamp, you see Usher''s great mansion standing tall.

    ''Masyaf'', a mansion that resembles a citadel.

    The Gothic castle looks eerie, shrouded in a mist of water rising from the swamp.

    The walls and windows, carved out of the stone, looked like they had cracks in them, with countless dried ivy vines clinging to them.

    The windows, which have turned cloudy and gray like the eyes of a blue-blind eye, seem to be staring nkly into space.

    The sticky, dismal humidity rising from the swamp was everywhere.

    Moreover, the ck-red aura that spreads like a demonic spirit through the mist of the water is something that makes every Night Walker frown.

    "...Red Death. It''s even worse than before."

    Dolores said, swallowing hard.

    A horrible gue, or rather, an extreme poison that even caused the death of Cervantes, the Spear King.

    This is what has cast the shadow of death over the Usher mansion.

    "I wonder if my father is safe...."

    "...."

    Bianca bit her lip until it bled, fighting back tears.

    Tudor is silent while putting his hand on Bianca''s shoulder.

    Cervantes, Lord of the Don Quixote family, and Roderick, Lord of the Usher family, were longtime friends and enemies.

    Now that Cervantes has met a tragic end in the Red Death, it''s a luxury to hope for Roderick''s safety.

    But even knowing this reality was one thing, speaking it out loud was another.

    Even Camus, who was known for her bluntness and sarcasm, and who was not particrly close to Bianca, had not said a word out of respect for her mood.

    However. Marquis de Sade, the only one who waspletely oblivious to the stares of others, was still speaking in his usual manner.

    "What kind of foul air is that, I''m sure everything in the mansion has long since been destroyed."

    "Please shut that mouth of yours, you old prison escapee, before I crush you with my club."

    Orca cautioned, but Sade kept talking.

    "Look, Vikir, I doubt there''s much point in repairing the Usher at this point. With that much poison in it, there''s probably already a bunch of skeletons inside."

    "You don''t know that."

    Vikir''s answer was surprisingly hopeful.

    Normally a cynic and a pessimist who defaults to negative predictions, Vikir was unusually positive this time.

    Bianca asked impatiently.

    "So, you''re saying there''s hope, huh?"

    "Yes."

    Vikir nodded.

    He turned to his left and opened his mouth.

    "The Usher family was originally an official family of an enemy nation before the unification of the Empire. They were once a very famous family of assassins. After the unification of the Empire, they were only able to be one of the Seven Great Families with a small number of people. It''s because of the skill of their members."

    Is there any other family for which the term "small elite" fits so well?

    Sinir, who is also an intelligent person, recites some legendary Usher family anecdotes.

    "It''s said that when the Emperor went to visit the Usher family in the past, the Usher family wanted all of their entourage behind them so that the Emperor and the patriarch of the family could talk to each other one-on-one, and the Emperor said he could put everyone back, but not the two generals he really trusted."

    The rest of the story wasmon knowledge.

    The Usher family patriarch asked the emperor, ''Are you sure you don''t want to send them away?'' The emperor replied, ''These two men are like my brothers. They are like my alter egos, and they cannot be separated.''

    At this, the patriarch of the Usher familyughed without saying a word, but then he opened his mouth and asked the two generals standing behind the Emperor, ''Can you kill the emperor right now?''

    The two generals standing firmly behind the Emperor immediately drew their swords and pointed them at the emperor''s throat.

    As if they had been waiting for thismand all this time.

    "... This incident enhanced the reputation of the Usher family, and the Emperor himself treated them generously, as they were strong and had secret power."

    Bianca nodded at Sinir''s words.

    She had always been proud of her family, and the mention of past glories seemed to ease her sting a bit.

    But the reality is harsh.

    The once great Usher family has been eroded by demons and is on the brink of extinction.

    Vikir analyzed the situation soberly.

    "The people of Usher are strong individually. They may be few in number, but their individual skills are, on average, superior, which means that there should be more of them who can resist the demon''s power. Moreover, Usher''s castle, Masyaf, has many environmental conditions that can be fortified in the future, and its strategic value isparable to Tochka. It is a ce that must be restored before a great war."

    "I know the geography of the grounds and the structure of the mansion inside out. I''ll show you around."

    Bianca said with determination.

    It was fortunate that both Tudor and Bianca were so knowledgeable about the inner workings of the family, and much more than the average young master.

    Many young master didn''t know much about their own families.

    But Vikir shook his head.

    "The Usher mansion is full of mazes and traps, and the poison is so thick now that it''s impossible for many to enter. Once a small group enters, we must lure the demons out and meet them outside the mansion."

    That leaves the question of who will go inside the poisonous mansion.

    Normally, Vikir would lead the way.

    "I can''t go in."

    Not this time.

    Vikir shook his head.

    "Because I need to make other arrangements, in case I seed in attracting the demon."

    The number of people who can enter the Usher mansion is limited, then.

    Dolores spoke with difficulty.

    "If it''s holy water that can break through that poisonous fog, I think we can make enough for two people."

    Even with all of her divine power, that was the limit.

    Two people to infiltrate the Usher mansion and lure the demon out.

    It was obvious who one of them would be. It was Bianca.

    She knows the geography of the mansion inside out, and she''s the target of Usher Poe Madeline, the one who''s currently in control of the family.

    "Aunt Madeline was said to have been exceptionally weak as a child, even to the point of being thought dead when she copsed after a seizure and was buried alive. Now that I think about it, she probably died then, and the demon took over her body while she was buried."

    Bianca muttered, then looked up with a look of determination.

    "Perhaps the demon is after my body, young and fresh, and if I were to enter the mansion on my own and escape, it would surely turn and chase after me."

    Hearing Bianca''s words, nearly all of the Night Walkers raised their hands.

    "I''ll go with you."

    "I want to help."

    "Come with me, Bianca."

    Sancho, Piggy, and Sinir opened their mouths.

    But then all eyes turned to one ce.

    Tudor stepped forward.

    "Allow me toe with you."

    "...."

    "You owe me from the day before."

    Tudor chuckled as he lifted the spear with his one arm.

    Bianca alsoughed with reddened eyes.

    "Still reckless."

    "One must be reckless in the presence of ady. That is chivalry."

    Tudor and Bianca turn to face each other, smiling bitterly.

    In that strange atmosphere, everyone had no choice but to give them the benefit of the doubt.

    But Vikir, always calm and cool, broke the mood before anyone could say anything.

    "Are you sure you can do this? It''s not just about love. The odds of dying are much higher than the odds of living."

    "What, what''s love!"

    "Wha- If someone hears it, they''ll misunderstand it! This is loyalty! It''s friendship!"

    Looking at Bianca and Tudor''s stunned denial, Vikir shook his head.

    Then he spoke again.

    "Very well. You seem motivated, so I''ll give you the benefit of the doubt. But I''ll tell you what you must do."

    Vikir''s instructions were both simple and difficult.

    1. Go inside the castle and lure the demon out.

    2. Make sure the patriarch, Roderick Usher, is alive or dead.

    Just two tasks.

    But whether they seeded or failed, the odds were stacked against them.

    "The Red Death has evolved even more, and it seems to be very specialized. Even with my divine power, I won''t be able to hold out for very long, an hour at most...."

    Dolores said in an unconfident voice.

    But Bianca shook her head as she held Dolores'' hand tightly.

    "That''s more than enough, thank you very much."

    "Bianca...."

    Bianca forced a smile at Dolores'' tearful face.

    Then. Vikir called to her.

    "Take this with you."

    "...?"

    Bianca shook her head.

    Vikir ced a heart-shaped hairpin on Bianca''s palm.

    Before Bianca could ask what it was, Vikir turned his head and looked at Tudor beside him.

    "Take this, too."

    Vikir handed Tudor two firecrackers.

    One red, the other ck.

    Vikir spoke in a serious voice.

    "Determine if Roderick, the patriarch of the Usher family, is alive and able to get out with you, then set off the red firecrackers, and if he''s dead or unable to move even if he is alive, then set off the ck firecrackers."

    This had a lot to do with the vague strategy that Vikir was preparing outside.

    On behalf of everyone, Bianca cautiously asked.

    "Why are the colors of firecrackers differentiated? What does it mean...?"

    Vikir''s answer was short.

    "It''s better if you don''t listen."

    It was an answer that sent chills down everyone''s spine and renewed their determination.

 Chapter 440: The Fall of Usher (2)

    <h4>Chapter 440: The Fall of Usher (2)</h4>

    The Ushers'' mansion was indeed a fortress.

    Whereas Tochka was a natural fortress created by the natural environment, Usher''s mansion was a man-made fortress filled with all sorts of bizarre traps.

    Frames of books and paintings that sometimes copsed, curtains that fluttered even when there was no wind, the cogs of a slow-moving clock, statues that suddenly burst intoughter, nts that withered and died in pots, stuffed animals, brick walls that were stacked on top of each other, chandeliers that were overly grandiose, and so on... were all traps filled with malice toward intruders.

    But Bianca, who was born the owner of the mansion and has lived in it all her life, was able to tear through them all and get inside.

    "The only time it''s safe to walk through the halls is when the bookshelves copse and the books on them fall, but only for ghost stories, not for other genres. Only when books titled ''The Masque of the Red Death,'' ''The ck Cat,'' ''The Cask of Amontido,'' ''The Jumping Frog, or Eight Orangutans in Chains,'' ''The Heart of Treachery,'' and ''The Adventures of Arthur Gordon Pym'' fall to the floor."

    "Whenever the curtains flutter even a little, you must get low to the floor. It doesn''t matter if the wind is blowing or not."

    "When the bell rings, the secret door between the hallways opens. Of course, you can''t go in right away. You have to wait exactly five minutes before opening it, otherwise you might end up in a door that leads to apletely different ce."

    "When that statueughs, you have to be careful around the whole area, because while it doesn''t trigger any traps... it likes to think that an intruder is about to die a miserable death."

    "If you see a nt in a pot and it''s shriveled up and dead, don''t walk past it. We don''t grow any nts in our family."

    "Stuffed animals are okay to walk past. But some of them have moving eyeballs, and if I see one of those, always cover your ears and run fast."

    "If you see a red brick wall, make sure you never touch it, but if you do, run away from it immediately, and don''t turn around if someone calls your name from behind."

    "Under no circumstances should you pass under a chandelier. But if you must, never look at the chandelier. Instead, keep your eyes on the shadow of the chandelier on the floor."

    Bianca continued through the many traps andbyrinths into the depths of the mansion.

    Tudor, following close behind, said in a low voice.

    " ...I see why your personality is so twisted."

    "What, you bastard?"

    Bianca squeezed Tudor''s head once, then turned her head away.

    "Heh, well. It''s a little far from the usual."

    She added in a tiny whisper at the end.

    "... Thanks for following me here, though."

    "What?"

    "I didn''t say anything. Let''s go."

    Bianca dragged Tudor along.

    Soon, Bianca and Tudor were standing in front of patriarch Roderick Usher''s bedroom.

    This room, too, was thick with the red death.

    An unbearable level of poisonous venom spreads through the mansion, along with the watery mist that pours in.

    It was like a clown, a dancing demon, spinning and jumping through the empty corridors.

    Bianca and Tudor felt a surge of nausea even though they drank the saint''s tears produced by Dolores.

    Then the door to the bedroom opened.

    kkigigigigig-

    The rusted hinges let out a dying groan.

    The sight inside the slowly opening door made Bianca and Tudor''s eyes widen.

    "Father!"

    Bianca eximed uncontrobly.

    Seated in a chair in an awkward position is unmistakably Roderick, Bianca''s father and current head of the Usher family.

    He was pale enough to be a corpse at first nce, with a mummifiedplexion and a skeleton as thin as a mummy, but his eyes were wide and alive.

    "...."

    But he didn''t seem to be in any condition to speak.

    A ck tongue moved a few times inside his parched and shriveled lips, but nothing came out of his charred throat but the sound of a broken clockwork.

    "...Father, in such a horrible state!"

    Bianca stroked Roderick''s cheeks in disbelief.

    But when she looked into his eyes, there was nothing in them.

    Just dull, cloudy whites, with creepy flesh embedded in the center, fixed straight ahead.

    Tudor bit his lip as he watched Roderick''s condition.

    " ...It''s the same condition as my father''s."

    Just as Cervantes, the Spear King, had died of the Red Death, leaving him a wasted man, Roderick was in the same condition.

    Just as Cervantes, the Spear King, suffered the Red Death and died in a state of ruin, Roderick was also in the same state.

    "The Red Death is spreading through the mist inside the mansion, and the demon must have released its poison into the swamp, for the mansion was built on swampy ground, and the entire ce has been gradually poisoned."

    After assessing the situation, Tudor pulled firecrackers from his arms.

    Red and ck firecrackers.

    ''Determine whether Roderick, patriarch of the Usher family, is alive or dead, and if he is alive and able to escape with you, set off the red firecracker; if he is dead, or if he is alive but unable to move, set off the ck firecracker.''

    Vikir had said this before entering the Usher''s mansion.

    Tudor''s eyes dropped to his hands, and he bit his lip in thought.

    "He''s alive. Roderick is alive."

    Tudor''s choice was a red firecracker.

    Tudor is about to take it to the window.

    Then.

    ...teoeog!

    A hand snatched Tudor''s wrist.

    It was Bianca.

    "...Are you crazy?"

    She snatched the red firecracker from Tudor''s hand and tossed it into the swamp outside the window.

    "Are you going to kill all the other kids?"

    "No! Roderick is alive!"

    "Don''t you remember what Vikir said? My father... My father can''t move anymore."

    Bianca lowered her head and trembled.

    If anyone wanted to light a red firecracker more than anyone else at this moment, it was her.

    Tudor could only look at her and bow his head in awe.

    Just then.

    "Hohohoho- Aren''t you giving up too soon?"

    A voice caught Bianca and Tudor''s attention.

    Turning their heads, they saw a woman with the same paleplexion as a corpse standing there in a casual manner.

    Usher Poe Madeline. Roderick''s sister and current acting head of family.

    A shadowy figure who practically wielded the power of the Usher family.

    "The same father, the same daughter. Even though your blood rtives are still alive, you are hastily treating them as dead."

    Madeline red at Bianca with her corpse-like eyes.

    Then she spoke, her voice filled with mockery.

    "Are you going to bury your father alive too? Just like your father did to me."

    Madeline suffered from severe fever when she was young.

    And Rodrik buried her under the ground, with both her heartbeat andplexion changed to that of a corpse.

    But somehow, some way, Madeline was alive.

    After she was buried alive, she broke open the coffin, dug through the soil, and emerged through the center of the tomb.

    Roderick was haunted for the rest of his life by the guilt of almost burying his sickly sister alive.

    He would do anything she asked of him, and he would risk anything for her.

    eudeug-

    Bianca gritted her teeth.

    "You''ve been a demon from the start, haven''t you, taking the body of my Aunt Madeline, who died of a fever, and deceiving my father all this time?"

    "Hohoho- Well, I don''t know. When did I really be a demon? When I was buried alive, or when I was born, or, I mean, was I ever a demon in the first ce?"

    Madeline had been closing the distance between her and Bianca.

    Then. A line was drawn between Bianca and Madeline.

    "Do not cross the line."

    Tudor. His unwavering gaze held Madeline at bay.

    Madeline''s eyes narrowed at the sight of Gungnir in his lone arm and the leather hanging down the hilt of his spear.

    "Skinning the flesh of Pasamonte and using it to decorate your spear? ying with the corpse of your uncle, whom you defeated in a contest for the throne, seems a bit grotesque for a knight of Don Quixote''s reputation for justice and virtue."

    Despite Madeline''s scowl, Tudor did not lose sight of his original purpose.

    teog-

    Grabbing Bianca''s hand, Tudor turned and started running.

    "Come on, Bianca, we have to get out of here!"

    But Tudor and Bianca''s efforts were in vain.

    Madeline reached out her hand and the world around her froze, then a thick wall of ice rose up and blocked the window.

    "Kuagh!"

    Tudor stopped in his tracks for a moment.

    And then Madeline''s seductive voice whispered softly in his ear.

    "I see you wish to leave the mansion, but not without my permission."

    "...."

    "Hohoho- Would you stop looking at me so scary?"

    Madeline covered her mouth with her hand and smiled gracefully.

    Then, as if in good faith, she continued.

    "Well, actually, it''s not too difficult to get you out of the mansion, if you can pass my test."

    "Throw away the thought of deceiving me with your tongue."

    Tudor turned his back to the ice wall and held his spear tightly.

    But the words that came out of Madeline''s mouth were unexpected.

    "Seriously, if you can pass one very simple test, I''ll let you out of here."

    "...?"

    Tudor''s brow furrowed, and Madeline continued.

    "All you have to do is prove to me that you are brave enough to pass my test. Don Quixote''s knights are said to be very brave, so you won''t be afraid, will you?"

    It was a cheap provocation made tantly, but Tudor had no choice.

    Then, Madeline said.

    "''Where is the person who can kill me?'' If you can get those words out of your mouth three times, I will recognize your bravery. I''ll even open the doors of my mansion for you."

    It was an easy deal. There are no ambushes here now, except for Madeline''s.

    Tudor and Bianca stared at each other, their expressions stony.

    Their gazes crossed quickly in the air.

    Then, once Tudor was sure there was no danger around them, he opened his mouth.

    "Where is the person who can kill me? Where is the person who can kill me? Where is the person who can kill me?"

    Tudor''s words were spoken with unwavering faith.

    There was nothing that could harm him, except the demon right in front of him.

    It was an obvious truth.

    ...But.

    Madeline''s eyes softened at the sound of Tudor''s voice.

    The moment Tudor sheds a drop of cold sweat in front of that ominous line.

    "... It is here."

    A voice that seemed to be possessed by something came from right behind Tudor, right in his ear.

 Chapter 441: The Fall of Usher (3)

    <h4>Chapter 441: The Fall of Usher (3)</h4>

    Tudor''s mind shed back to a story Sinir had told him.

    ''It is said that once, when the Emperor went to subjugate the Usher family, the Usher family wanted to have a one-on-one conversation between the emperor and the head of the family, leaving all the attendants behind.''

    The emperor experienced the betrayal of two of his closest advisors in a ce where he firmly believed no one could harm him.

    The assassins of the Usher family were equally stealthy and vignt.

    Tudor thought the lesson to be learned from this story was that Usher''s assassins had long since earned the trust of their targets.

    ... But the reality was that they were one step ahead of that.

    jjiiig-

    Tudor jerked his head to the side at the cold wind behind him.

    Bianca''s dagger sliced through his side.

    "Bianca!"

    Tudor''s voice didn''t seem to reach her.

    In her dted pupils, there was no sign of the firearm she once held.

    Madeline chuckled as she watched Bianca stand like a doll.

    "When members of the Usher family are in the mansion, they be brainwashed without their knowledge. In a way, the path into the mansion is the route that draws the magic circle of brainwashing, and walking along that path is the trigger condition for brainwashing."

    She winked at Tudor and continued.

    "Thest line you said is the trigger. Once brainwashing is activated, outsiders are considered the first priority to be killed."

    "Damn it!"

    Tudor raised the spear.

    Bianca, with an expressionless face, raised her bow and fired an arrow.

    peopeopeong!

    The spear swung around and smashed the arrows.

    But Bianca''s firing speed was still so incredibly fast that even Tudor could only stagger back.

    "...Ugh, you''re even faster than you were when you were sober, aren''t you?"

    Tudor tries to force a smile and make a joke, but Bianca''s expression is cold.

    Madelineughs at Bianca''s doll-like transformation.

    "Finally, a young, fresh body is within my grasp, and I''ve always been troubled by this half-rotten one!"

    After speaking, Madeline took off the belly band that was covering her stomach.

    Then, the rotten and crumbling belly skin and the empty abdomen inside were clearly visible.

    "... Also. The real Madeline died a long time ago."

    "Hohoho- yes, I''ve had a hard time covering up the stench, always having to fill it with perfume or dried flowers or something. But that''s gone now."

    Madeline turned her head to look at Roderick in the chair.

    "Poor Roderick. Why don''t you just hand over your body to me? Your daughter will pay the price for your stubbornness."

    Roderick''s pupils flinched at her words.

    Tudor called out to Roderick with a glimmer of hope.

    "Roderick, your daughter is in danger, you must wake up, the demon is after Bianca''s body!"

    Tudor continued to shout as Bianca shot arrows at him with her dazed eyes.

    But Roderick was frozen in ce.

    His pupils flickered for the briefest of moments, but then a thick mist of water and a red deathly fog enveloped him again.

    Madeline chuckled.

    "Hohohoho �C what do you expect when you see poisonous air rising from the swamp?"

    She was right.

    The demon had released poison all over the swamp, and it was mixing with the moisture rising to the surface and infecting the entire mansion.

    "Kugh...."

    Tudor knew it, too.

    It would be impossible to cleanse the mansion without clearing the entirety of this watery fog that enveloped the grounds.

    That''s why Vikir had told him to lure the demons out of the mansion, as fighting inside would be futile.

    However, Bianca''s rushing toward him makes that impossible.

    Even if Tudor ran outside, the demon wouldn''t budge.

    The demon would not move, for she already had the body she wanted so badly.

    "Wake up, Bianca!"

    Tudor shoved her back against the spearhead and turned the de.

    Rather than deal with Bianca, he intended to go straight for Madeline behind her.

    However.

    "Hohohoho- that''s not going to work."

    Madeline was still standing there, unmoving.

    A posture of absolute confidence and arrogance.

    kkilig-

    Bianca aims her arrow at Tudor''s back as he runs towards Madeline.

    Then.

    "...!"

    Madeline''s eyes widen slightly.

    To her surprise, despite Bianca''s arrow pointed at his back, Tudor hadn''t turned around and was running toward her.

    Kiiiiing-

    An aura as blue as a tidal wave rises at the tip of Gungnir.

    It could be seen that he was truly putting all his strength into the front, not caring about the threat behind him.

    "Hohohoho- What, you trust your friend, you think she won''t shoot an arrow?"

    "Shut up!"

    Tudor continued to run toward the front where Madeline was.

    Even though Bianca, standing behind, is aiming at Tudor''s back with her bow and arrow.

    The corners of Madeline''s eyes curved seductively.

    "Poor thing. Who wouldn''t be a fool from the Don Quixote family? to be killed by the arrow of the woman he loves. The end of love is the grave, after all."

    Then, turning to Bianca behind her, shemanded coldly.

    "Shoot, my dear. Let''s make it easy for him."

    With Madeline''smand, Bianca moved immediately.

    Without hesitation, Bianca drew her weapon, pointing it at her friend Tudor''s back.

    Then, a single arrow fired with tremendous momentum.

    ...Pow!

    A powerful charge containing all of Bianca''s power and mana was fired, creating a gray-white gust of wind.

    It flew in a graceful parab andnded directly in Tudor''s back.

    peoeog-

    The sound of tearing flesh and sttering blood echoed through the room with a piercing sound.

    "Hohohohoho- they''re disgusting, they''re such sloppy people! Now, both Usher and Don Quixote are over!"

    Madeline burst intoughter as she saw Bianca''s arrow pierce Tudor''s back.

    ...However.

    Herughter did notst long.

    peoeog-

    A stream of red blood spurted from Tudor''s back and stomach.

    Bianca''s arrow had clearly pierced Tudor''s body.

    And at that moment, as if he knew in advance the direction and location of the arrow''s flight, Tudor twisted his stance to the side, rotating his body so that the arrow would tear through the flesh of his side and fly away.

    The arrow passes through Tudor''s body, leaving only a rtively light wound.

    The arrow is stained red by Tudor''s blood.

    ppeo-eog!

    It flew straight on without losing any of its power, and surprisingly, it lodged itself in the center of Madeline''s forehead.

    "Kuugh!"

    Madeline gasped as the arrow pierced her skull and exited the back of her head.

    Her vision went ck and her thoughts were cut off for a moment.

    Her entire body began to shake and tremble.

    Even a demon could not help but be shaken by an unexpected arrow piercing its head.

    Moreover, what is this ck blood on the arrowhead...!

    ''...Please go to afortable ce.''

    Strange voices in her head, and memories that were not her own began to surface in the center of her ckened vision.

    A body growing cold. The rough palm that covered her vision. A face and voice full of scars.

    ''...He''s a good person.''

    At the same time, Madeline felt her entire body tremble violently.

    She felt her fingers and toes twisting and curling strangely, like the body of an insect curling inward when it dies.

    "Kuuuuuuuggghhh"

    Madeline groaned as her body twisted and turned.

    Just then.

    "Run!"

    Bianca''s pupils returned to their normal color.

    She grabbed Tudor by the back of the neck as he staggered, bleeding from the side, and turned and started running.

    The ice wall crumbled from Madeline''s impact, and Bianca and Tudor threw themselves through the window beyond.

    At the same time.

    ...pusyug!

    Tudor lit the ck firecracker he''d been holding since the moment the arrow pierced his body.

    "...No way. You''re not brainwashed! How!"

    Madeline was still running forward, unbowed, despite the arrow piercing her forehead and the back of her head.

    But was it too unexpected? It didn''t stop Bianca and Tudor from throwing

    ...pungdeong!

    Swampy muck and mire surrounded them.

    An unpleasant sensation, as if the evil spirit of the red death was sticking out its long tongue and licking their entire body.

    But in the midst of it all, Tudor and Bianca looked at each other and held their hearts together.

    Then, Tudor''s arms, which were above the surface, were stretched high.

    Bianca was holding on to him so that he wouldn''t sink into the swamp.

    Poof!

    A firecracker exploded. A ck pir stretched high into the sky.

    So that we can clearly see beyond the ridge where Vikir is waiting afterpleting some preparations.

    "It''s a sess!"

    Without even thinking about who went first, Tudor and Bianca hugged each other.

    "Good job, Bianca! Thatst arrow went in!"

    "...I wouldn''t have made it if it weren''t for Piggy''s blood on the arrowhead."

    But the job isn''tpletely done yet.

    [Kuaaaaaaaaagh- These cheeky bugs!]

    The scream that erupted from the window was clearly not human.

    A voice that pierced the listener''s eardrums and drove fear like a stake through them.

    A demon''s voice.

    There was no doubt that Madeline was showing her true colors.

    As soon as they heard it, Tudor and Bianca nodded as if they had made a promise.

    Tudor and Bianca quickly dived down to the bottom of the swamp, knowing that their goal was to lure the demon out of the mansion.

    Boom.

    It''s too far to swim to the bridge that connects the mansion to the surface.

    It''s better to move slowly, underwater, holding their breath as best they can, than to risk being caught by the demon right away.

    Tudor and Bianca swam beneath the ck, rippling water.

    Reddish will-o''-the-wisp lights were circling above the water, giving a clear view of the eerie and grim scene beneath the water.

    ...kwakwang! pungdeong- pungdeong- pungdeong- cheombeong!

    Behind them, the windows of the mansion shattered, and they could feel the debris of the shattered windows falling to the surface of the swamp.

    The surface of the water distorted wildly.

    [...Where are you! ...Where are you!]

    Somehow, the demon''s voice came straight from the water.

    Tudor and Bianca fought back a chill down their spines and dived deeper and deeper.

    ck water nts reached out like water ghosts.

    Tudor and Bianca ducked under the fiery glow of the will-o''-the-wisp and into the forest of aquatic vegetation.

    They began to push their way through the heavy muck and ripples of the swamp floor, where many things had sunk.

    Slowly. Slowly. To lure the demon out of the mansion.

    Toward the ridge beyond, where Vikir and the others were waiting.

 Chapter 442: The Fall of Usher (4)

    <h4>Chapter 442: The Fall of Usher (4)</h4>

    "Pu-haa!"

    It was already the middle of the night when Tudor and Bianca crawled out of the water.

    The air was icy cold. The wind cut like a knife.

    As they turned their heads, they could see the Usher mansion casting a grim shadow over the swampy area that was filled with evil spirits of the Red Death.

    "Get it."

    "...Yes."

    Tudor took Bianca''s outstretched hand.

    Hand in hand, they raced down the mountain path.

    pudeudeug-

    A bird pped its wings behind them.

    Tudor and Bianca ran frantically through the dead trees that sprouted up like spines from burned corpses.

    Their faces and bodies were scratched by sharp branches and thorns, but they had no time to think about it.

    Red death dancing with phosphorus and sulfur fire and water mist wandering over the swamp.

    Tudor and Bianca ran to their deaths through the darkness, relying on the fading favor of the saintess.

    pudeudeug-

    The sound of birds pping their wings came a little closer.

    Then.

    ...thud!

    Tudor stopped running and fell to his knees on the ground.

    Bianca gasped and helped him up.

    "Tudor, are you okay?"

    "...um."

    A reddish glow continued to spread across Tudor''s side where Bianca''s arrow had grazed him.

    It was a fatal wound, even if it only grazed.

    Bianca hesitated for a moment, then spoke with determination.

    "Get up."

    "...."

    But Tudor shook his head.

    "You never know when the demon wille after you. Vikir told us never to let our guard down until we''re over the ridge."

    "Do you think I''m letting my guard down right now?"

    "Uh. It looks that way."

    Tudor quietly pushed Bianca away.

    "You go ahead. I''ll get some rest and catch up."

    "Don''t give a shit."

    Bianca closes the distance that Tudor pushed away.

    She grabbed Tudor by the scruff of the neck and spoke.

    "You realize there''s nothing cool about what you''re doing, right?"

    "I''m not doing this to be cool. Do you still not know me?"

    "So you know me?"

    "...."

    Tudor and Bianca''s gazes locked for a moment.

    Tudor spoke in a low voice.

    "That night. You saved me when I nearly lost my life within the family, and you risked your own."

    "...."

    "Now it''s my turn. I can''t walk anymore anyway. Let me do something for you onest time."

    Tudor''s eyes, dying of blood loss and hypothermia, sparked.

    It was thest spark of light that only a being who sensed the end of his life could give off.

    ...But.

    "If you have the stamina for bullshit, walk."

    Bianca''s re was even more overwhelming than Tudor''s.

    "That night. I may have saved you, but you saved me."

    "...."

    "Do you have any idea how relieved and grateful I was to see you still alive at the end of where I ran with my lungs bursting... Do you know how relieved and grateful I was at that time?"

    Bianca curled her arms around Tudor''s shoulders and pulled him close.

    Then she growled.

    "So live, somehow. As long as I live, you live. When I''m dead, it''s up to you whether to search or not."

    "...."

    Tudor was speechless at Bianca''s non-threatening threat.

    Soon, they were climbing the mountain path again.

    Tudor''s mana was long gone, and his body was riddled with cuts,rge and small, from the mansion''s traps.

    His drenched body was constantly losing heat.

    pudeudeug-

    Behind him, he heard the sound of another bird pping its wings.

    It was only a few feet away now.

    "...Bianca."

    Tudor, barely walking with the aid of his spear, spoke in a fading voice.

    Bianca looked up.

    "Thank you."

    "...What an ominous way to start a greeting under the circumstances."

    "Just. I figured it was now or never."

    "Oh, really!"

    At that moment, Bianca turns her head.

    Thud!

    Tudor fell to the ground.

    "...."

    Bianca stared at Tudor in disbelief.

    And she cowered down next to him, too.

    "...Yes. Well done, that was good enough."

    There was no response from the fallen Tudor.

    Then, as Bianca looked at him, tears began to form in her eyes.

    Bianca''s once proud and confident expression quickly falls away, and she looks like a woman her own age.

    She hugged Tudor tightly as his breathing slowed and bowed her head.

    In the end, they didn''t make it over the promised ridge, but they did manage to lure the demon away and set off the ck firecrackers.

    It was a situation where she was prepared as it was not a n made with the survival probability of the two used as bait in mind in the first ce.

    "Thank you. Foring with me."

    She pressed her lips to Tudor''s mouth.

    pudeudeug-

    And a mysterious sound gets closer and closer.

    Bianca lifted her head, a look of determination on her face.

    She had no strength left, but she would resist with everyst ounce of energy she had.

    "I will die rather than have my body taken by you!"

    She raised her bow as she stood before Tudor.

    Across the inky darkness, she could see two red, zing eyeballs.

    Sprinkling an eerie red light, it was like seeing the dog of death from a grotesque legende to life.

    ... but.

    Flutter-.

    What appeared in front of Bianca was not a demon, but something else entirely.

    "You still look lively, which is good."

    Vikir. The Night Hound stepped out of the shadows.

    Bianca''s eyes widened.

    "Vikir? How are you here? Isn''t the meeting ce over the ridge?"

    "I picked you up. Well, I took some risks."

    With that, Vikir raised his hand.

    A werewolf, a ghoul, a giant carapace centipede, a mountain turtle, a griffin, ... and several other creatures had their throats slit and were dripping blood.

    Bianca suddenly realized that she and Tudor had made it this far without being attacked by any of the creatures.

    That was because Vikir had been silently clearing the escape route all this time.

    When they''d first made their n, he''d been the one to abandon them, but he''d actually cared for them more than anyone else.

    "...Vikir."

    Bianca''s voice trembled, but Vikir waved her off as if it were no big deal.

    Meanwhile.

    Vikir turned his head and watched the trajectory of the ck firecrackers as they rose above the Usher mansion.

    Those firecrackers could only mean one thing.

    Roderick Usher was dead, or at least as dead as he could be.

    Bianca exined.

    "My father is alive. But because of the red death poison that has taken over the grounds of the mansion...."

    "I see the situation. Save your strength for the rest of the story."

    With that, Vikir walked over to the fallen Tudor.

    After checking his pulse, Vikir nodded.

    "He''ll be fine. With some potions and a holy power poultice, he should be up and about in no time."

    "Well, do you think we can do that? We have to go over the ridge...."

    "Yes, if you stay still."

    "Huh? What''s that...?"

    Bianca didn''t even have time to ask.

    hwag!

    Vikir scooped Tudor up on the spot. With Bianca on his side, he started running up the hill.

    "What?"

    Bianca panicked, but then squeezed her eyes shut.

    Vikir''s strength and speed were immense, and even with Tudor and Bianca on his back, he could climb the steep rock face in the blink of an eye.

    It was like a bird gliding.

    ''...Thank God.''

    Vikir was also relieved by the current situation.

    In the original story, this was the ce where Tudor died, and where Bianca''s mind went crazy.

    Usher''s restoration operation.

    It was supposed to happen muchter than it did, but it was the right ce.

    Prior to the restoration of Usher, Tudor is gravely wounded while attempting to stop Bianca from being brainwashed by a demon, and as a result, he is unable to prate the Daylily of the Demon Legion and dies a long, hard death after leading his allies to safety.

    Bianca is driven to madness by the guilt of having failed to restore her family name and of having harmed Tudor, her lifelong childhood friend and lover who had been there for her in her darkest time.

    ... But fate has changed.

    Tudor survives, and Bianca''s sanity is restored.

    This was only possible because, at a crucial moment, Bianca refused to be brainwashed by Madeline.

    " ...I guess we have to thank Lovegood."

    Vikir stared at the brooch in Bianca''s hair.

    A hairpin with a pink heart-shaped brooch attached to it.

    It''s called a "love shield.

    It was an artifact that Vikir had gotten back in the day when he participated in the University League.

    To be more precise, Vikir had gotten Decarabia as a reward for his excellent performance in the University League.

    At the time, there was a student named Merlini Lovegood who had better grades than Vikir, and the prize she received was this artifact called ''Love Shield''.

    ''The artifact I won is called the Love Shield. It''s a hairpin with a heart-shaped brooch, and it''s supposed to protect against any kind of powerful brainwashing or mind control magic once you wear it, but only if you have someone you truly love by your side!''

    The effect of this artifact, called the Love Shield, is a one-time defense against all powerful brainwashing.

    However, the artifact requires the presence of someone you truly love for it to work.

    <Dear Vikir>.

    <With love?>

    <-PS. Merlinie Lovegood, President of Vi*Sa*Mo->

    -''Perfume, skin lotion, shoes, belts, hats, sunsses, shirts, bags, fountain pens, ties, wallets, sneakers, hairpins... Oh my. There is also an artifact that was used as a prize in the university league. Also, what is this? It''s the key to the carriage?''

    In the past, Lovegood had mailed the artifact to Vikir as a gesture of fandom, and Vikir had kept it and handed it to Bianca before infiltrating the Usher mansion.

    ''Take these with you.''

    Bianca with a hairpin, Tudor with red and ck firecrackers.

    Vikir''s preparation, just in case, saved Tudor and Bianca from a harsh fate.

    " ...It''s the first time I''ve seen a face.."

    Vikir, who was looking at his own face in a puddle on the ground, turned his head.

    kkoog-

    He saw Tudor fainting and Bianca''s hands sped together as she looked at Tudor.

    * * *

    Then.

    Vikir found a temporary camp on the ridge, and in a pit covered with fallen leaves, he took out the potion he had ced beforehand and fed it to Tudor.

    "...Huagh? Why am I still alive?"

    Bianca cried out as Tudor woke up with a loud scream.

    Just then.

    pudeudeug-

    The sound of a bird pping its wings came from far behind them.

    Up on the ridge, Vikir stood in full view of Usher''s mansion.

    just as expected.

    [...Find them! ...Must find them!]

    He could hear Madeline''s poisoned voice and the sounds of Usher''s knights moving about.

    Tudor and Bianca''s eyes widened.

    "Get ready."

    Vikir spoke.

    "It''s time to pay them back."

 Chapter 443: The Fall of Usher (5)

    <h4>Chapter 443: The Fall of Usher (5)</h4>

    Usher Poe Madeline.

    She gathered the remnants of the Killing God Squad and set out in pursuit of Tudor and Bianca.

    Leading her horse across a bridge over a swamp, she soon found herself at the foot of a steeply sloping mountain.

    [Abandon your horses and climb the mountain; you may kill Tudor, but Bianca must be captured].

    Madeline had lost her reason in her rage and no longer thought to hide her voice.

    From her mouth, which has been torn open from ear to ear,es a sound like the howl of a trapped animal.

    Her eyes, arrowed in the brow and turned in strange directions, were set vertically in a reptilian pupil.

    The leader of the Demon Army, who had once led the Age of Destruction from the forefront and had done so much to spearhead the destruction of mankind, was slowly revealing her true colors.

    pudeudeug-

    Every time Madeline moved the hem of her loose dress, it made a sound like a bird''s feathers rubbing together.

    [The smell of young, fresh meat...]

    Madeline was climbing the mountain faster than anyone else.

    The smell dotted over rocks, piles of leaves, and the tips of sharp branches.

    Madeline was following the trail of blood that Bianca had spilled as she fled.

    [Hohohoho- she must have been in a hurry, if she couldn''t even get the scent off herself].

    The prey''s increasingly sluggish pace was evident in the growing trail.

    Sweat, saliva, and snot on the ground.

    But the most unmistakable odor of all is blood.

    Not only was the blood spilled not covered with leaves or soil, but there were unmistakable traces of footprints and hair everywhere.

    Broken branches and disheveled grasses also gave a clear indication of the direction in which the prey had fled.

    [Finally goodbye to this rotting bitch, hohoho �C as soon as I change bodies, the first thing I''m going to do is whip her little squeaky body to smithereens, it''s been so frustrating and tiresome].

    Madeline reached the ridge with a big smile on her face.

    She could see theke on the other side of the mountain.

    Lakedog Lake.

    It''s thergestke in the area, along with the swampynd surrounding Usher''s mansion.

    Madeline and Usher''s pursuers made their way out of the forest and toward Lakedog Lake.

    What they saw was a rather unexpected sight.

    [...?]

    It was a pile of stones and mud piled high on the shore of ake that had been turned into a barren field.

    Where there should have been ake, there was no water.

    The water had been wiped out by the ongoing wildfires and drought.

    [But was the drought really this bad?]

    The bottom of theke was strangely dry.

    She could understand if the water level was dropping, but it''s not normal for theke to be so dry.

    There were some pools of stagnant water in various ces, and there wererge fish clustered in them.

    ...Puddle, puddle, puddle!

    Madeline stuck her hand down into the pool and pulled out arge catfish, which she chewed up and swallowed whole.

    [Strange. Even in the most severe droughts, the waters of Lakedog never dried up... hohohoho- could it be that theing Age of Destruction is that harsh?]

    Madeline tossed the catfish she was chewing on to the ground and turned her head to look at the zing red mes on the horizon.

    The wildfire burning in the distance was obviously no ordinary natural disaster.

    Droughts, wildfires, monster outbreaks, and all other natural disasters are merely precursors.

    It was a flow of magic power condensed to open a huge portal in the sky and a natural phenomenon that followed.

    [...gate. The gates of destruction are about to open!]

    The demons, impatient with the continued loss of their allies, have decided to open the gates to the Demon Realm a little earlier than they would have otherwise, after decades of dy.

    It was for this reason that the Empire''s civil war broke out earlier than nned.

    [For that, I must change my body into something young and fresh].

    Madeline felt her body heat up as she thought of the many ns she had for Bianca''s body.

    [s, first I must make many children, how delicious they will be made from my blood and flesh, my mouth is watering already].

    She quickly descended to the bottom of theke and made her way toward the center.

    She made her way through the towering stones and mounds of dirt, and the destendscape inside came into view.

    Whiiiiing-

    Suddenly, a humid breeze blew in from nowhere.

    [...!]

    Madeline''s expression changed as she turned her head to look for something.

    She has an ominous feeling in the back of her mind.

    Looking back at the rubble she had just passed, she realized that the path had changed slightly.

    Madeline''s eyes narrowed.

    [Oh my. You''re going to use a ''formation'' against me?

    Yes.

    These stones piled up on the bottom of theke are the walls of a maze.

    And the paths between them form strange shapes throughout.

    As visitors walk along these paths, they are gued by hallucinations and visions, and eventually bepletely disoriented and trapped within them.

    It was simr to the formation inside the Usher mansion where Bianca''s brainwashing was triggered, but in a much moreplex way.

    [Hohohoho- I''m an Usher myself, so I''m in the formation. It''s cute.]

    Madeline was quite rxed despite being caught in a trap.

    As she looked around, she saw monstrous rocks rising up like swords and a wall of dirt and rocks thatpletely surrounded her.

    Madeline''s eyes glittered with an evil light.

    [Hehe... That''s good. This is the work of Belial and Dantalian, right? Did they betray us and join the human side?]

    But that''s not possible.

    Weren''t Belial and Dantalian long gone in the first ce?

    But the formation in front of her was clearly a trap that Belial and Dantalian used to wage war on arge scale.

    How a mere mortal has managed to recreate it is beyondprehension.

    [Who is it? Is it Bianca? No, there''s no way a human could imitate a demonic formation so well. Hmmm...]

    Madeline was a little troubled, but then sheughed softly.

    [Well, whatever. This body isn''t affected by the formation method, and I''ve already told Belial and Dantalian about the structure of this formation in the first ce. Then why don''t we try to break it in an instant?]

    The other side must have set this trap to buy time.

    However, Madeline thought to herself, having absorbed all of Usher''s knowledge of the formation, as well as having mastered the formation of the demons, there was no way she could fall for such a lowly trap.

    [I''ll make it all for naught].

    Madeline shook her head in triumph.

    [Rest(��), Life(��), Injury(��), Stop(��), Enlightenment(��), Death(��), Surprise(�@), Open(�_). Of the Eightfold Diagram Formation, If you go into life(��), Enlightenment(��), and Open(�_), you will live. If you go through injury(��), Surprise(�@), and rest(��), you will get hurt, and if you go to Stop (��) and Death (��), you will die, right?]

    Madeline knew well which was the live path and which was the dead path.

    It was a well-known truth among demons.

    [Hohoho- A truth is like a scribble on the pavement, of great effect to the unknowing, but nothing to those who know it well. Your efforts are imaginary, but useless!]

    Madeline strode forward, breaking through the path of the Formation Method.

    ... But at that moment.

    [Huh?]

    Madeline spotted the remains of head lying on the ground.

    It was a catfish from the puddle that Madeline had caught near the beginning of the dungeon.

    Somehow, she had found herself back in the area where the maze had started.

    With the exit still out of sight, of course.

    [Well, how could it be?]

    Madeline moved immediately.

    She tried the Life Gate(���T), the Enlightenment Gate(���T), and the Open Gate(�_�T), which she knew to be the live path, but the scene was still the same.

    She even went out through the Injury Gate(���T), the Surprise Gate(�@�T), and the Rest Gate(���T), just in case she got hurt, but the result was the same.

    Instead, confusion, as if the heavens and earth were turning upside down, filled her head.

    Still, she didn''t have the courage to enter the Stop Gate(���T) and the Death Gate(���T), where the path to death was certain.

    [What? This isn''t even Eightfold Diagram Formation? If it is, this is the right way to leave? Huh?]

    The ck blood on the floor was distracting Madeline.

    All around her, she could see nothing but more dense walls, with no way out.

    [...At this rate, I have no choice but to advance toward the center of theke? Hmmm. Someone knows the demon''s tricks. Who could this be, the demon hunter who''s been killing my friends, but I thought he was imprisoned in Nouvelle Vague?]

    But the more she ponders, the more she ponders, the more she moves forward, the darker her vision grows.

    Madeline was dragged into the deepest part of the formation, half willingly and half unwillingly.

    There stood a tall tree with a small torch hanging from it, and at its base she could see words written in ck blood.

    Madeline fought back her rising anger and impatience and walked toward the tree.

    Suddenly, the words on the ground in the center of the formation caught her eye.

    -Demons die under this tree.

    The moment she saw it, Madeline gritted her teeth.

    [How dare these bastards use cheap provocation...!]

    But. it wasn''t just a provocation to spoil the mood.

    Madeline was quick to realize that.

    ...cheolsseog!

    The sound of something heavy crashing in and hitting a huge boulder.

    deudeudeudeudeudeu-

    The dry, cracked ground trembled violently, sending up shards of stone and dried muddy dust.

    [...!?]

    Madeline''s face crumpled into a grimace.

    Now she understood why the bottom of Lakedog was so dry.

    Chaaaaaah!

    Water Attack.

    An enormous wave of water was rushing in from the distance.

 Chapter 444: The Fall of Ushers (6)

    <h4>Chapter 444: The Fall of Ushers (6)</h4>

    -Demons die under this tree-.

    Vikir stood on the far bank.

    [How dare these bastards use cheap provocation...!]

    The moment he heard the demon''s cry from the center of theke, Vikir immediately gave the order.

    "Open the floodgates."

    The members of the Night Walkers and Don Quixote''s knights each raised their spears, cut the ropes, and pierced the earthen wall.

    Tudor and Bianca turned to face each other and let out a powerful burst of mana.

    ...peoeong!

    The mud and wood pirs copsed, and the waters of Lakedog burst out from the imprisonment beyond.

    Even though the drought and wildfires have lowered the water level significantly, Lakedog Lake naturally holds a tremendous amount of water.

    kwakwakwakwakwakwa-

    The water rushing out of the breach created countless currents and rushed toward the bottom of theke.

    In the distance, we can see the demon iling about.

    Madeline has broken through the Life Gate(���T), the Enlightenment Gate(���T), and the Open Gate(�_�T), as per the Eightfold Formation, but that doesn''t mean she''ll get to the way out.

    She also tried the Injury Gate(���T), the Surprise Gate(�@�T), and the Rest Gate(���T), with the same result.

    However, this does not prevent her from entering Stop Gate(���T) and the Death Gate(���T), which are obvious death routes, so there must be some information about the Eightfold Diagram Formation.

    "...Certainly. It''s the path that Belial and Dantalian used to wreak havoc on the Human Alliance during the Age of Destruction, so she should be familiar with it."

    Vikir is giving back to the demons exactly what the Human Alliance suffered at the hands of the demons in the past.

    ....

    Vikir''s version of the Eightfold Diagram Formation was a slightly improved version of what Belial and Dantalian had used.

    This was possible because....

    "Pushishishi- look at that. It''s better if you do as I say."

    It was thanks to Marquis de Sade, smiling beside Vikir.

    He shouldn''t be here if he was meant to be.

    He was supposed to have failed to break out of Nouvelle Vague and be fodder for deep-sea monsters 10,000 meters below.

    But Vikir changed his fate and rescued him from the depths.

    The result. Marquis de Sade was able to put his skills as a tactician and military strategist to good use, something the Human Alliance had beencking during the Age of Destruction.

    ''An interesting n, but I can see a few holes in it, and I think I can make it even more vicious if Ibine it with the Eight Trigrams(Bagua) I used during the 47 Man Riot. Puspushishishi-''

    Marquis de Sade, who has a devious, even diabolical, talent for bullying others into trouble.

    ''Add the elements of Jin (��), Son (��), Lee (�x), Gon (��), Tae (��), Geon (Ǭ), Gam (��), Gan (��). Add the elements of thunder, wind, fire, earth, pond, sky, water, and mountains, and no demon can escape as long as it has two feet on the ground. I can''t wait to see how the one who falls into it will struggle in agony-''

    He was interrupted by a voice that was far more cunning and evil than anything the demons had ever put their heads together.

    "Pushishishi! even the demons can''t get out of it, scurrying away like bugs!"

    "It''s still a bad taste."

    Marquis de Sade was delighted, and beside him, Major General Orca, who was giving him a scold, looked as if they were relieved as they copsed the dam they had built so far.

    Building the dam wasn''t difficult for Vikir, who had once built a massive dam to keep out the Red Death when he was in Bk''s vige.

    Once released, the water rushed over the ridge with unstoppable momentum.

    The drought-strained ground gave way, releasing massive amounts of sediment, and the resulting earthquake shook the entire ridge.

    Soon afterward, massive amounts of water from Lakedog began to sweep down the hillside and pour into the swampy area where the Usher'' mansion was located.

    "Aah! The mansion!"

    Bianca eximed in surprise.

    The current was already swirling around the swampy area surrounding Usher Castle.

    A vortex that circled and carved away at the ground beneath the castle, eroding it.

    The ind in the center of the swamp where the Usher family''s mansion had stood was sinking lower and lower.

    "Dad!"

    Bianca screamed as she leapt forward, but Tudor stopped her.

    "Bianca, wake up, you saw the condition of the mansion!"

    "...Aaaah!"

    Bianca''s legs gave out and she fell to the ground.

    If Tudor hadn''t held her tightly, she would have tumbled down the cliff and been caught in the rushing water.

    Dolores, Sinir, Sancho, and Piggy could see now why Vikir had made the fireworks so color-coded.

    "Determine whether Roderick, the patriarch of Usher Family, is alive or dead, and if he is alive and able to escape with you, set off red firecrackers, and if he is dead or unable to move even if he is alive, set off ck firecrackers.

    ''Why are the firecrackers color-coded? What do they mean...?''

    ''You''re better off not listening.''

    He was right.

    If the red firecrackers had gone off, Vikir might have considered a different n, but once the ck firecrackers went off, the choice was clear.

    The moment Vikir saw the ck firecrackers, he made his decision.

    To wipe out the Usher family mansion,pletely eroded by the Red Death.

    "...Dad."

    Bianca looked down at the rushing torrent below the cliff.

    The Fall of the House of Usher.

    Bianca''s tears filled her eyes as the mansion copsed into the center of the swamp.

    The stately home she had lived in all her life, the proud family name, was disappearing in real time, buried in the shifting sands of history.

    Just then.

    [Kuaaaaaaaggghhhh!]

    A tearing scream rose from the maelstrom of crumbling earth and swirling mud.

    Vikir and everyone else looked up to see several shadowy shapes breaking through the torrent and emerging into the water.

    Hands disappeared, and in their ce were giant wings.

    Razor-sharp teeth bared from snouts that jutted out like beaks.

    ws that looked like a mix of des and hooks, and grotesquely bulging chest muscles.

    Giant face birds break through the water current and crawl out onto the ground.

    Bianca immediately recognized one of them, thergest and broadest of the monstrosities, with the longest body and wings.

    "Isolde!"

    How could she forget, the one who betrayed her family and joined the demons.

    The one who not only unleashed the poison into the swamp and left Roderick for dead, but also relentlessly chased Bianca and scratched her body and mind.

    As a demon, Isolde raised his blood-red eyes to look at Bianca.

    [You nned this well. I almost drowned during the chase.]

    "Die!"

    Bianca immediately drew her arrow.

    A thunderbolt of a shot!

    peoeong!

    But Isolde, who had turned into a demon, stretched out his huge wings and knocked the arrow away.

    [Kkkkk... You''re going to take on a demon with the mere strength of a human? You still have no sense of reality at all.]

    The wound healed quickly.

    Isolde smirked, showing off his newfound bulk and muscle.

    Just then.

    "...It''s been a long time."

    Vikir took a step forward.

    Vikir had met Isolde once before, when he was a convoy escort on the way to Nouvelle Vague.

    [...!]

    Bianca''s anger hadn''t fazed him, but Vikir''s call had made him flinch.

    He had been punished for mutiny on board a ship before.

    But then a genuine smile appeared on his face.

    [I was alone then, but not now, and with my minions with me, I have no reason to fear you!]

    True to Isolde''s words, the demons that had crawled out of the vortex were gathering behind him, one after another.

    "Pushishishi- what is it? Why are there so many birds? He doesn''t seem that serious, but it strangely bothers me."

    "Don''t let your guard down, prison escapee. They self-destruct when cornered."

    The minions were fierce enough to make Marquis de Sade and Major General Orca wary.

    Camus, who was demolishing the steel frame inside the dam, clicked her tongue as if it was a waste.

    "s, the drought has lowered the water level. If it wasn''t for that, I could have wiped them clean."

    The prolonged drought and wildfires had reduced the water in Lakedog.

    Despite the powerful mudflows, currents, andndslides, many of the minions managed to survive, and the Usher family''s mansion foundation was halfway eroded away.

    Isolde chuckled.

    [This is Madeline. Not like a fool like Passamonte. While Passamonte was preupied with some random Hell Tree he picked up, Madeline trained an army of demons as usual. Look! The result!]

    Among the knights of the House of Usher, those who had be the demon''s servants not through brainwashing but through their own will shook off the water from their feathers and roared fiercely.

    [Since we are alive, Madeline must be as well, and now you are doomed!]

    Even now, the number of demons crawling up from the water continued to grow.

    Isolde''s confidence was well founded.

    However.

    "Well. In terms of the number of sides, I''m guessing we''re on top?"

    Isolde''s eyes widened at Vikir''s casual remark.

    [W-what nonsense are you talking about...?]

    As far as he can see, there are no other troops around.

    There are only the Night Walkers and a few knights from Don Quixote''s house.

    [Cut the bluff! Attack!]

    Ishred shouted, and the minions behind him spread their wings in unison.

    Bats, eagles, owls, hawks, and other birds of prey... soared into the air in unison.

    ...but.

    They soon realized what Vikir meant.

    Shurororororock-

    It leapt to the surface and grabbed the minions by the ankles.

    No, it had been hanging on to their ankles since they first came out of the water.

    Vines. Long and tough.

    As they flew through the air, they felt a powerful force pulling at their ankles.

    [What, what is this?]

    Isolde looked at the vines wrapped around his ankles.

    A vine with a terrifying power. The source of that power was desire, or rather, appetite.

    [...?]

    Desperate for something, he followed the tip of the vine and soon saw water at the end of his gaze.

    The vine went all the way down to the water.

    Then, a giant face emerged from beneath the surface, connected to the vine.

    Chwaaaaag-

    A giant circr face emerges from the churning water.

    jjeo-eog!

    The face is bare, with no eyes, nose, or ears, except for its gaping maw and the teeth that fill it.

    The Daylily of Blood Tree.

    Countless demonic beast seeds were germinating beneath the water.

 Chapter 445: The Fall of Usher (7)

    <h4>Chapter 445: The Fall of Usher (7)</h4>

    A giant face emerged from beneath the surface.

    Sharp teeth peeking out of a gaping mouth, the corners of its mouth torn upward as if it was enjoying something.

    It had no eyes or nose, so its expression was unreadable, but still recognizable.

    The horrible feeling of hunger and thirst, the appetite, the gluttony, and the joy and tion that it was all about to be relieved.

    The Daylilies of the Blood Tree waited beneath the water with their mouths open, waiting for the demons.

    [Uuuuh?]

    [Hey, what is this!?]

    [Kuaaghh! What kind of power does it have!?]

    [...Help me!]

    The demon transformed into their bird of prey forms and took flight, only to be dragged back to the water''s surface by the tough vines that were about to wrap around their ankles, or had already wrapped around them.

    Wahzak-.

    The mouth of a Daylily closed.

    One of the demons had gotten stuck in it and bled to death.

    [...]

    The demon shuddered as he looked down at his mashed up lower half, like meat for a haggis.

    Crushed flesh, shattered bones, and dark blood dripped down in a puddle.

    As its prey watched in horror and despair, Daylily shook itself with delight, stretching out its vines again and again.

    Shurorororock-

    Once again, the demons that had ascended to the sky are pulled down.

    [When did these vines get around my ankles!?]

    [Water! It got wrapped around me when I fell in the water!]

    [I can''t get it off! Damn, it''s so tough!]

    [Ouch! I''m being dragged again! Aaaaaaah... kahg!?]

    The countless daylilies soon formed a colony and swallowed up the demons.

    cheombeong- cheombeong- cheombeong- cheombeong-

    The river quickly turned ck with the blood of the demons.

    Seeing this disaster situation, Isolde could only gape.

    His ankles, wings, and torso were covered with daylily vines as he struggled to hold on.

    [No way! Where did these things...!?]

    Isolde stared at Vikir with shaky pupils.

    But Vikir didn''t bother to answer.

    Before Madeline and her legion of demons had pursued Bianca, he had nted the seeds of the blood daylily on the shores of Lakedog, which had been drained for the construction of the dam.

    ''No matter how bad the drought, the bottom of Lakedog Lake never cracks.''

    Lakedog Lake hasn''t run dry in thousands of years.

    When someone sees ake like that, not only bare, but cracked and dry, they should be suspicious.

    It''s because the daylily seeds have sprouted and sucked all the moisture from the bottom of theke.

    And now, with the water in full force, the daylilies are in full bloom.

    They ate the demons in droves.

    "Youcked attention."

    Isolde''s eyes widened at Vikir''s words.

    [You bastard, don''t pretend to be so rxed! You think you can escape these demonic beasts just because you''re a human!]

    The Daylily of the Blood Tree were obviously very fond of humans.

    The size of its maw and the way its teeth were packed into it made it look like a 100% carnivore.

    However.

    -twees!

    A surprise happened.

    One of Don Quixote''s soldiers, who had stumbled and fallen into the river, had been captured by the Daylily.

    As Daylily wrapped the soldier in its vines and was about to take him into its mouth, it paused for a moment and stuck out its tongue to lick him once.

    Then, as if touching something inedible, it threw the soldier back into the water.

    [...? ...? ...? ...?]

    Isoled, who saw the soldier who had survived his life hurriedly crawling up tond, only blinked in bewilderment.

    He can barely speak as he struggles against the tug of the vines.

    "Well improved."

    Vikir nodded as the Daylily spat out the human.

    Then, behind him, a figure stood, puffing out his chest with a smug expression.

    Minpin. Minpin Baskerville.

    His voice was full of pride as he spoke, familiar with the ecology of the monsters.

    "Ah, I''ve been working hard to modify their diet. I''vepletely ripped out their taste buds to make them taste disgusting to humans, and sweet and savory to demons. In doing so, they''ve lost a lot of their size, but this is something that can be made up considerably as generations go by. Oh, and again....."

    Minpin went on at length about his painstaking efforts, but Vikir filtered out the essentials.

    Using the daylilies from Vikir, Minpin conducted many experiments in the safety of Tochka''s underground facility.

    Even Morg Banshee, an authority on the subject, sent his own team of researchers to assist in the experiments.

    As a result, Minpin was able to identify and select individuals among the daylilies that were unusually unthirsty for human blood, and he continued to breed them, refining the breed to be less aggressive toward humans with each passing generation.

    In addition, by mixing human blood with a foul-tasting substance when feeding them, and by feeding them demon blood along with small amounts of other foods that the daylilies might like, the daylilies began to be tamed in an acquired way.

    In this way, the daylilies, both gically and acquired, were transformed from seed.

    twe-es!

    The daylilies shied away from humans as if they lost their appetite.

    But when they see the blood of the demons, they rush at them with madness in their eyes.

    [... Ughhhhhh!]

    Isolde pped his wings furiously, four vines wrapped around his body.

    He broke free of the vines with the immense strength of a demon.

    Shurorororock!

    Despite two more vines wrapping around him and strangling him, Isolde didn''t give up.

    [I, I am thest vassal to serve Madeline, the one who will rule over the lesser mankind in submission! I will not die in this ce, I will never die, this is my world now, this is my opportunity, I have waited so long for this day, for this time, for this age!]

    But.

    "A opportunity?"

    There was a cold voice standing in front of Isolde.

    Bianca. Thest heir to the House of Usher.

    She stood before Isolde, bow and arrow raised.

    "Opportunity does note by waiting."

    [...?]

    Isolde''s wavering pupils turn toward Bianca below.

    Bianca raised her arrow and pointed it at him.

    "Shoot, like this."

    At the same time, Bianca squeezed out all of her remaining mana.

    peong-

    The arrow flew through the air, tearing a hole in the atmosphere.

    It soared in a fluid parabolic motion, piercing precisely between Isolde''s two eyebrows.

    peo-eog!

    The skull shatters, and all that''s inside falls out in a heap.

    [Euegh! Keughhh!]

    But even so, Isolde held on.

    Even when his head is shattered and everything inside is spilled out, he survives with the supernatural vitality of a demon.

    ...However.

    Bianca''s anger at the betrayal of her family was not of a short-lived nature.

    ...peong-

    After the first hit, the second hit came.

    ...peoeog!

    And the third hit.

    ...peoeog! ...peoeog! ...peoeog! ...peoeog! ...peoeog! ...peoeog!

    Arrow after arrow, all aimed at the same ce.

    Eventually.

    [Aaaaahhhhh! No!]

    Even Isolde, who had six vines wrapped around him, falls to the ground.

    Underneath him, countless daylilies are gathered and smiling.

    wajig- wajig- wajijijig!

    There was only one body, but so many mouths chewing, tearing, and savoring it.

    The end of Isolde became the starting point.

    The demons began to be cleaned out in earnest.

    The daylilies danced and swayed as they wrapped their vines around the pieces of the demons'' bodies.

    The water turned ck and even more murky.

    Vikir looked at the colony of daylilies and asked.

    "How should I collect them? Should I handle it myself?"

    "There is nothing to collect. The reformed daylilies are short-lived, withering away within a month without a supply of demon blood."

    "Are they likely to spread their seeds and disrupt the surrounding ecosystem?"

    "No. They are all seedless individuals. To use a man''s analogy, they are Nutless."

    "...."

    For some reason, Vikir thought, that wasn''t a very good analogy.

    Well, whatever. The demons hiding in Usher began to be cleaned out.

    Those of the brainwashed knights of Usher who were unable to escape and were swept away by the current were able to cling to the roots and vines of the daylilies that filled the stream below.

    However.

    [This doesn''t feel very good].

    Decarabia at Vikir''s chest began to roll its eyes.

    "What is it?"

    [It seems like almost all the demons have been wiped out... The most core source of demonic energy has not been purified at all.]

    Almost simultaneously, Camus, who was standing beside Vikir with a bored expression on her face, also nced over at Seere, who was patting her shoulder.

    "What the hell, asshole, do you want to die?"

    Camus''s words instantly make Seere cringe, but she musters up the courage to say what she needs to say, no matter how much she''s being bullied.

    Vikir and Camus''s gazes snap back to the river.

    The water current was raging there.

    Some of therger daylilies, as if they''d found something that smelled unusually tasty, stretched out their vines and gills and moved toward the center of the whirlpool.

    Just then.

    kwakwakwakwakwang!

    The daylilies that had been clustered together were torn apart.

    Falling flowers in full bloom.

    Even thergest ones were torn to shreds, and something shot up into the sky like a beam of light.

    [Hohohoho- it''s the rottenness of her body that makes it take so long for me to return to my true form].

    Usher Poe Madeline.

    The man responsible for the downfall of the Usher family.

    A usurper who covets Bianca''s body.

    And in the past, one of the key protagonists who led the Age of Destruction.

    <''Third Corpse'' Andrealphus>

    Danger Rating : S+

    Size: ?

    Found in: ''Serpent''s Womb'', deep within the Gates of Destruction

    -Also known as ''Third Corpse''.

    One of the Ten gues, natural enemies of mankind, iprehensible and unkible.

    "Hail will be poured down."

    �C The Ten Commandments 10: Top �C

    Andrealpus, the ''Ice Duke''.

    The third of the Ten Corpses finally reveals itself.

 Chapter 446: The Fall of Usher (8)

    <h4>Chapter 446: The Fall of Usher (8)</h4>

    A demon with the form of a giant bird spread its four wings.

    Its body was covered in snow, ice, and frost, like a suit of armor.

    Within a singlerge orbital socket, its eyes were filled with glistening eyeballs, each emitting a strange light, and its long, sharp beak was filled with teeth.

    Andrealpus, the Ice Duke.

    The mastermind of the Age of Destruction, the spearhead of the demonic army that caused so much damage to the Human Alliance, has finally revealed its true colors.

    [Handmade, though quite clever...]

    Andrealphus pped its massive wings and soared into the air in the blink of an eye.

    The long tail feathers of ice and frost traced white trails in the air.

    [It is of no use to me].

    Andrealphus was right.

    Water is no match for a flying bird.

    Perhaps if there had been more water, but the severe drought had lowered the level of Lakedog so much that it was impossible to finish off Madeline.

    [What can you people who live off thend do? Hohohoho-]

    Andrealphus ascended to the heavens andughed at all things below.

    Hand attacks, formations, and sieges are all meaningless before the power of Andrealphus, who dominates the sky.

    The daylilies stretched out their vines but could not reach it, and Marquis de Sade''s improved Eightfold Formation had lost its effectiveness.

    "Formation with bird flying. Eih-"

    "I don''t know if I can reach it."

    Marquis de Sade and Major General Orca stepped forward.

    kwakwakwakwakwang!

    Whips and clubs stretched out with terrifying force, creating a storm of auras.

    [It''s absurd. Hohohoho-]

    Andrealphus dodged thebined attacks of Sade and Orca with too much ease.

    A flying demon, flying freely through the skies.

    It could ascend to impossibly high heights and descend to the ground in the blink of an eye, so attacks from the ground werergely pointless against Andrealphus.

    "Miss!"

    "Are you all right!"

    "What the hell is going on...."

    Several of the de-brainwashed Knights of the God Killer Sniper Squad gathered around Bianca.

    Bianca quickly took control of the situation.

    "God Killer Sniper Squad, quickly pull yourself together and catch that monster first!"

    With that, Bianca raised her bow and arrow and pointed it at Andrealphus.

    The knights of the God Killer Sniper Squad also looked nervous as they prepared to shoot.

    However, even though each and every one of them was a sharpshooter, it was difficult for them to hit Andrealphus, who was moving at a tremendous speed in the sky.

    [Hohohoho- When I make my move, no one can catch me...!?]

    But Andrealpus''s self-congrattion was short-lived.

    pis-

    Vikir leaped up, stepping on a dead tree that had fallen at an angle to the cliffside.

    Vikir leaped a ridiculous height.

    His leap seemed to defy gravity!

    ''All those years in the Academy''s gravity chamber have been worth it.''

    In the blink of an eye, Vikirnded at Andrealphus''s feet and unleashed the 8th Form of Baskerville.

    ...sh!

    The dark sr storm raged furiously.

    ppajijijijig!

    Startled, Andrealphus quickly halted its flight, spun, and fled in a near-vertical orbit.

    Vikir had to be content with tearing off one of the demon''s wings and one of its legs.

    [Keuaaaghhhhh! How dare you little creature.]

    Andrealphus''s eyeballs turned an even deeper shade of red.

    Eventually, the Demon King began to exercise the power granted to him without hesitation.

    jjeojeojeojeog!

    A ck circle of magic drew around Andrealphus.

    Soon, the portal was torn apart and huge chunks of ice began to appear.

    Hail. But they were far toorge to be hail.

    Huge chunks of ice, almost drift ice.

    Ice bs and ice boulders over 10 meters in diameter began to fall like raindrops.

    kwakwakwakwakwakwakwang!

    The ground was devastated in an instant.

    The people below didn''t even dare to attack Andrealphus.

    jjeoeog-

    Vikir quickly raised his head after cutting down a huge hailstone that was falling towards him.

    Andrealphus was sneering from the corner of his mouth, as if he would never return to the ground.

    [From now on, I''ll never give you a break! Die in a hailstorm! Hohohohoho-]

    Andrealphus summoned the hailstones as if on cue.

    A steady stream of ice blocks rained down.

    Camus, who was crushing the hailstones with her scorching hot iron skewers, spoke up in annoyance.

    "This is a pain in the ass. We''re just going to have to take a one-sided beating, and that guy can just fly away when it runs out of energy."

    "I agree."

    Dolores nodded, agreeing with Camus.

    She was frustrated that her holy shield was ineffective against physical impacts like hail.

    Sinir, too, was growing weary as she drew gold from the veins beneath the ground to create the shield.

    "Brother, I don''t think we''llst long at this rate, not even five minutes."

    Sinir was right.

    As the hail continued to fall, the Night Walkers became increasingly exhausted.

    In this situation, Andrealphus drove a wedge.

    [...At this point, will we even open the gates of destruction?]

    At that, everyone''s faces turned puzzled.

    Andrealphus chuckled.

    [If I unleash the remaining power, I can open the Gates of Destruction, albeit imperfectly, but at the cost of my life].

    "...."

    Vikir looks up at the sky without speaking.

    Seeing Vikir''s gaze, Andrealphus spoke in a mocking tone.

    [Perhaps you are the only one of these humans who understands my words. I don''t know how a mere mortal could know about the Gates of Destruction, but... don''t worry too much. I have no intention of opening it just yet.]

    After finishing speaking, Andrealphus opened his mouth wide.

    [With such an advantage, who am I to force myself to open the gate? Hohohohoho!]

    The hailstones began to fall again.

    [Once all of you are gone, I''ll work with my two remainingpanions to open the gate safely, aAnd in the end, the whole world will be covered with demons(Majins)! How easy is this in a world overflowing with scum who want power!]

    Andrealphus spread its remaining wings wide.

    And in the midst of the hailstorm that threatened to engulf the world, Andrealphus scorned and mocked them until the very end.

    [Die, you scum! Everything you have done is worthless and in vain! I myself will make it so...!]

    Just then.

    "Are you that confident?"

    Vikir''s mouth opened.

    He was staring at Andrealphus with a straight, unwavering gaze, even under such adverse circumstances.

    Andrealphus looked down at Vikir with the gaze of a cat looking at a caught mouse.

    [What the hell are you talking about?]

    "Are you really that confident? I''ve been taught that behind overconfidence lies anxiety."

    [Hohohohoho- Anxiety? This body?]

    Andrealphusughed in disbelief.

    [You are crawling on the ground like worms, and I am raining hail from so high in the sky. I may have lost a wing and a leg through the carelessness, but that''s nothingpared to eating hundreds of human children].

    "Yes, but there is still a glimmer of insecurity in you. If you are really so full of yourself, prove it."

    [Where does a worm dare such a petty provocation...]

    As Andrealphus turned away as if not worth listening to, Vikir shouted.

    "''Where is the person who can kill me?''."

    [...!]

    The words that came out of Vikir''s mouth were Andrealphus''s line to Bianca.

    "Where is the person who can kill me?''. If you can say it three times, I will recognize your courage. I''ll even open the doors of my mansion for you. You won''t be afraid, will you?''

    Vikir turned to face Andrealphus, who was ring at him, and continued.

    "If you can say these words three times, I will recognize your confidence. I will ept defeat and death as sweet. You won''t be afraid, will you?"

    [Heh! What else can you do if I won''t ept it? ... But hey, it''s fun, and if your goal was to keep me interested and kill time, you''ve seeded].

    Andrealphus looked back at Bianca with a wicked grin.

    But Andrealphus and Bianca are not the same. Their powers and circumstances are so different that they dare not evenpare.

    And so Andrealphus was able to cry out onest time.

    [Where is the person who can kill me? Where is the person who can kill me? Where is the person who can kill me?]

    The arrogance and confidence of one who stands in absolute dominance.

    Andrealphus shouted proudly, standing firmly in the center of the sky.

    At that very moment.

    [...?]

    As thest word was uttered, Andrealphus experienced a strange phenomenon.

    A flicker.

    The vision in his left eye shed ck.

    Countless pupils had lost their function.

    Andrealpus scratched his head, wondering what it was.

    ...ppeoeong!

    Andrealpus''s head snapped forward with a loud explosion.

    hududug- hududug- hududug- hududug-

    The face was shattered, the eyes popped out, and the left side of the skull waspletely torn off.

    A sniper shot of terrifyingly destructive power swoops in and sts it in the back of the head.

    [kkyaaaaaagh! W-what is this!?]

    Andrealphus screamed in horror, while Vikir''s mouth opened.

    "My handiwork was not necessarily to catch you."

    He was right.

    A surge of water flooded the swamp, sweeping away all the mist and red death that had been rising around Usher''s mansion.

    And then.

    On the roof of the crumbling mansion, at the tip of the spire, stood a lone figure.

    A thin figure,plexion as pale as a corpse.

    But his sunken eyes still glowed with the same fire as before.

    Roderick. Usher Poe Roderik.

    Usher''s original master, the Archon, holds up his bow and arrow, pointing it at the sky.

 Chapter 447: The Fall of Ushers (9)

    <h4>Chapter 447: The Fall of Ushers (9)</h4>

    ...kwakwang!

    Andrealphus felt an intense impact from the back of her head, and then her vision on the left side went nk.

    [What the hell!?]

    Andrealphus turned her head in surprise.

    She saw the half-crumbling mansion of the Usher family, and a man standing atop the spiked roof.

    A tall,nky man, pale as a corpse, withrge, sullen eyes, bloodlessly thin lips, and hair as long and thin as a spider''s web.

    Usher Poe Roderick. A man who is called a Bow Demon (����).

    He raised his dying body that crushed by the Red Death, and picked up his bow and arrows.

    And now he is staring at the sky with his usual gaze.

    [Roderick? How can youe to your senses...? Argh!]

    Andrealphus''s face crumpled into a grimace.

    The raging waters of the Lakedog had temporarily washed away the red death aura from the swampy grounds of the House of Usher''s mansion.

    kwakwakwakwakwa...

    The Red Death spirits are swept away by the blue foam and dissolve.

    The aura of death and sickness that enveloped the mansion has temporarily dissipated, and clear air flows in.

    kkililig-

    Roderick draws his bowstring once more.

    His gaze, cold and dry, is focused on one thing and one thing only: Andrealphus in the sky.

    "Madeline."

    The voice came from a shattered gut and a crumbling body.

    At the same time, Roderick''s arrow once again struck Andrealphus in the chest.

    ...peopeong!

    It pierced through and tore a huge hole in Andrealphus'' body.

    Andrealphus let out a horrified scream as flesh and blood scattered in all directions.

    [Kyaaah! Brother! What is this! How could you do this to me!]

    It was a demon''s habit to take on the voice of its host when cornered.

    But it only made the blood in Roderick''s eyes grow redder and sharper.

    "Madeline!"

    Roderick pulled the bowstring once more.

    ppeo-eong!

    Once again, Andrealphus''s head exploded.

    Her right side of her face waspletely blown off, and now only her lower jaw and tongue remained.

    [Brother! It''s me! It''s Madeline, the one you buried alive when you were a child! Are you going to kill me again?]

    The monster, with only its lower jaw and tongue left, continues to spew Madeline''s voice down its throat.

    The sister who was blinded by a childhood fever.

    She was buried by Roderick in an unknown grave.

    But one rainy night, she dug up her grave and climbed out.

    She was thought to be dead, but she was alive.

    She overcame the horror of being buried alive and escaped the grave on her own.

    She regained her health and grew up strong.

    ... But in fact, she died of a fever at that time.

    It was that horrible, ugly, ugly demon that had taken over her empty shell.

    Roderick''s eyes burned with gray fire as he recognized it.

    "Andrealphus!"

    The name Madeline was no longer on Roderick''s lips.

    Now that he has finally let go of his sister, a sister he should have let go long ago, he will repay the debt of deception with interest.

    kkudeudeudeudeug-

    Roderick. He squeezed the body that had been consumed by the Red Death to its limit.

    Blood pulses through his dried, corpse-like body.

    Bones crackled everywhere.

    Bianca looks at Roderick and cries out.

    "Dad, don''t overexert yourself, you''re not in good shape...!?"

    For a moment, she saw her father''s gaze upon her.

    It''s the eyes of a man who is ready to die. The eyes of a man who is ready to die, but at the same time, willing to give his all.

    Bianca and Roderick. An unspoken message passed between them.

    "...Dad."

    Bianca staggered as if her legs had given out.

    Tudor, who was beside her, helped her up.

    "Roderick, why?"

    "...Dad."

    Bianca responded to Tudor''s question with a despairing stare.

    "He ns to end his life here."

    "...!"

    The words startled everyone, and they turned their heads once more.

    There stood Roderick the Bow Demon, preparing for the final blow.

    Patsutsutsutsu-

    The aura gathers around the tip of Roderick''s arrow.

    A fatal blow.

    Roderick''s entire body''s mana surges.

    And then.

    ...kwakwang!

    An unbelievably loud explosion erupted from the arrow.

    A huge vortex formed, and countless lightning bolts filled it.

    The wind swept away all the clouds in the sky, and the arrows flying through the center of it created a pir of light that looked like aet falling.

    A strike from the heavens.

    It was even more powerful than when Hugo had in Andromalius.

    Roderick''s arrow flew toward Andrealphus with a terrifying aftermath.

    And then.

    kwa-jig! kkwaleuleung!

    The arrow blew out not only the heart of the giant monster bird, but also its entire chest.

    [Keuaaaaghhhh!]

    Despite being hit by this terrifying sniper attack, Andrealphus didn''t die immediately.

    However, the unexpectedly fatal wound was enough to destabilize its trajectory and lower its altitude.

    And where Andrealphus was gradually falling, Marquis de Sade and Major General Orca were waiting.

    "Pushishishi- that Usher boy has given us a good gift."

    "This is repayment for the hail that fell earlier."

    The two old men, who had just been mocked by the hailstorm, were furious.

    The whips writhing like vipers, the clubs crashing like a tsunami.

    The aura of the two of them, who were so young in their horrific lives, flew through the sky.

    peo-eog! kwakwakwakwang!

    The whip and club tore off one of Andrealphus''s wings.

    Then the rest of his wings began to receive a baptism of arrows from the God Killer Sniper Squad.

    peopeopeopeopeopeog!

    Andrealphus, whose body was riddled with arrows and turned into a hedgehog, shook her blown-off head and screamed.

    [Kyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!]

    It was a terrible final cry, so terrible that it was hard to tell whether it was human or bird.

    kkililig-

    Thest bowstring is pulled.

    "...."

    Bianca took the final shot.

    ...peoeong!

    The final arrow flies, surely breaking Andrealphus''sst hold.

    peopeong!

    Bianca''s arrow blew off Andrealphus''sst tattered wing.

    A falling demon has no wings.

    Andrealphus didn''t even seem to have the strength left to scream, let alone flee through the air.

    The monstrous bird''s body, falling toward the ground, pointed toward the Usher mansion.

    And beneath it stood Roderick.

    Roderick asked, looking at Andrealpus falling toward him.

    "...Cervantes. What happened to him?"

    It wasn''t Bianca who answered his question, but Tudor next to her.

    Tudor closed his eyes and shook his head.

    Roderick nodded, noticing the spear Gungnir in his right hand and the empty left sleeve blowing in the wind.

    " ...So that what happened."

    Tudor''s appearance and demeanor spoke for themselves.

    Roderick closed his eyes as he realized everything that had happened.

    Then he spoke in a dry voice.

    "Please take care of the Usher family."

    It was thest thing he said.

    ...kwakwakwakwakwang!

    The half-destroyed body of Andrealphus crashed down on top of Usher''s mansion.

    The mansion and ind, whose erosion had been halted for a moment, began to crumble once more as Andrealphus fell.

    Rumbling.

    With a thunderous crash, the Usher family mansion began to sink into the swamp along with its grounds.

    [Ah... Aaaaaahh... The casuality... The casuality...]

    A dying me of a demon. The 3rd Corpse copsing into the water.

    Thest days of Andrealphus the Ice Duke were miserable and lonely.

    * * *

    Then the hail, storm, and thunder subsided.

    In the middle of the quiet swamp, only wide ripples and foam remained.

    The Fall of Usher.

    Bianca''s eyes welled with tears as she watched the mansion disappear beneath the bottomless swamp.

    Turning to the Tudor on her shoulder, Bianca said.

    "...Demons. I''m going to kill them all."

    "I agree."

    Tudor replied, looking down at his father''s relic, the Gungnir.

    The two young heroes sharpened their hatred of demons.

    Then.

    jeobeog- jeobeog- jeobeog-

    The sound of footsteps approaching their backs.

    Vikir. The Night Hound.

    A hunter who has been fighting demons in secret and alone since before the world changed.

    Tudor and Bianca turn their heads to look at Vikir.

    Gazes of unwavering faith and trust.

    And then the old, seasoned hunter turned to the new, newly awakened hunters.

    "There are only two left."

    With most of the Ten Demons responsible for the Age of Destruction hunted down, there were only two left.

    The 1st Corpses, And 2nd Corpses. If they catch just these two, they will be able to prevent the Age of Destruction.

    It won''t be easy-perhaps harder than everything they''ve done so farbined-but it must be done.

    And Vikir was no longer alone.

    The Night Hound is followed by the Night Walkers.

    Camus, Dolores, Sinir, Tudor, Bianca, Sancho, Piggy, and other colleagues from the Academy, as well as Marquis de Sade and Major General Orca from Nouvelle Vague.

    In addition, arge force of personnel from Fort Tochka were supporting Vikir in every way possible.

    "This is the final phase."

    The demons who had lost this many of theirrades would not stand idly by.

    There is a high possibility that they will mobilize all the time and strength they have umted so far.

    The Night Hound turned his back on Usher.

    So did his followers.

    The end is near. The prelude to all-out war was upon them.

 Chapter 448: Declaration of War (1)

    <h4>Chapter 448: Deration of War (1)</h4>

    A dark underground space.

    It is extremely quiet, except for the asional sound of water drops falling from the ceiling hitting the stone floor and breaking.

    Then. The sound of loud footsteps shattered the silence.

    "heoeog! heog! keoheog!"

    A young man was running down the hallway, his face distorted.

    He was naked, his skinny limbs dotted withrge handcuffs and shackles.

    S��skind de Leviathan. The eldest son of the extremely poisonous Leviathan family.

    He hid himself close to the bottom corner of the basement stairs.

    Soon, several soldiers with spears were seen patrolling the stairs.

    "...this is how it happened."

    S��skind cursed himself as he clutched his head.

    A young master of House Leviathan, he had been taken captive one day without warning and imprisoned in the family''s underground facility.

    As the next Householder to lead the House of Extreme Poison, S��skind was well aware of the facility.

    It was a prison for imprisoning the most dangerous elements to be excluded from the family, political opponents, and those who could not be controlled among those who inherited the blood of Leviathan, and at the same time, it was also aboratory where all kinds of terrible human experiments were conducted.

    "Thomas, I was trying to connect the dots between his involvement in the demonization case and Principal Winston''s outbursts at the Academy. .... There''s definitely a connection to our family."

    Principal Winston''s outburst, the growth of a demonic nt called the Hell Tree at Colosseo Academy, and the demonization of Thomas, who attended the Night Hound''s convoy.

    And as this series of events was swept under the rug by the First Prince, S��skind continued to point out the absurdity of the situation.

    Common sense dictated that Leviathan should not have sided with the First Prince at this time.

    ...Butmon sense came at a heavy price.

    Forced out of bed before he could even open his eyes, S��skind was thrown into the dungeons here. It was here that he met many members of the family.

    All of them opposed the civil war.

    It was only then that he realized exactly what was going on.

    Something unknown and terrifying had consumed Leviathan, and there was no going back.

    ...tatag!

    S��skind sprinted through the darkness, taking advantage of the disappearance of the patrolling guards.

    It was his strong mind and body that had allowed him to survive all the cruel experiments in the prison.

    Although S��skind was an arrogant person steeped in the sense of being the chosen one and privileged, he was still an elite who did not neglect discipline.

    Running up the underground stairs, he came upon a secret door hidden in a secret ce.

    The only people who know of this ce are the Patriarch and the youg master.

    S��skind pushed the door open with a glimmer of hope.

    Drrrr-!

    The heavy bricks shifted, opening a passage to the depths below.

    Sensing a sentry approaching from behind, S��skind quickly mmed the door shut and descended into the darkness.

    ''There''s no way out of here, but... at least there''s room to rest for a while. I''ll heal here, repair the damage done to my body by the experiments, and then break out.''

    S��skind descended the secret staircase, thinking this and that.

    But soon he came upon a horrifying sight.

    A dark underground alcove.

    The floor was littered with countless jars.

    And they emanated an unpleasant aura that gave him goosebumps just looking at them.

    The jars emitted an aura of dancing red evil spirits.

    S��skind recognized it immediately.

    "...Red Death!"

    How could he not?

    It was a terrible gue that, until a few years ago, the entire family had been obsessed with developing.

    At first, it simply caused a fever and was contagious, butter it caused people to go berserk and even attack others indiscriminately.

    "Unbelievable! Wasn''t the Red Death abolished due to the incident caused by that bastard?"

    S��skind looked at the jars in disbelief.

    Each of therge jars held a person.

    It was an eerie sight to see a man and a woman drenched in the red drug, their bodies curled up like fetuses, staring up from the jars, their eyes narrowed.

    Every single one of them had the same look in their eyes.

    ''Porridge... here... give me...''

    The maid who cleaned their rooms every day, the old man who tended the garden, the chef who made their desserts so delicious, the butler who was always so strict and stern, the instructor who taught them martial arts when they were young, the younger siblings of their rtives from the other families who they only saw on holidays, the distant elders of their extended families who they often greeted...

    These are all familiar faces in the jar.

    S��skind stepped between the jars on shaky legs.

    Soon he came to the innermost jar, a huge one.

    Hiss- hiss-

    Two breathing sounds can be heard from inside the jar, which is half buried in the ground.

    In the jar that S��skind looked down at, there were tworge snakes tangled together.

    Each breath they exhale sends a cloud of dancing red evil spirits into the air.

    "...Are these the sources of the Red Death?"

    S��skind broke out in a cold sweat.

    At that time.

    Hissing-

    The two snakes looked up at him and began to breathe heavily.

    S��skind was about to jump back in surprise.

    [When is that a good smell?]

    A sullen voice said from behind him.

    He turned, startled, and saw a man in ck robes standing there.

    S��skind recognized him immediately.

    "...Ah, Father."

    Hobbes de Leviathan. The patriarch of an extremely poisonous family.

    He looked at his eldest son and smiled coyly.

    [I''m not your father, S��skind, I''m just the demon who ate your father and took his shell].

    S��skind''splexion paled at the unusually honest answer.

    He''d had some idea, but he''d never expected him to reveal his identity so openly.

    S��skind clenched his teeth and asked.

    "What did you do with the youngest?"

    [He had already be like Thomas, the second son.]

    "Stop talking nonsense! There''s nothing we can do about Thomas because he has a terrible personality, but not the youngest! He''s too good-natured and innocent to be our brother, so he''ll never be a demon...!?"

    But S��skind didn''t get to finish his sentence.

    chwaag!

    Two snakes jumped out of the jar behind him, grabbed him by the neck and waist, and pulled him into the jar.

    S��skind couldn''t even scream as he was pulled under the jar.

    [Ah, ah- I had kept him alive because he was the body I was going to change into.]

    Hobbes, noticing that the body of S��skind in the jar was bent in a strange way,mented.

    [It''s a shame to turn him into a poisonous person(����), but I can''t help it, I''ve still got one more body to change into...]

    The red evil spirits that had been floating around in the jar began to dance and crawl into S��skind''s body.

    His eyes, which had gone in different directions, began to glow red, and red spots began to form all over his body.

    Just then.

    [How''s it going, this time?]

    Another voice came from the top of the basement stairs.

    A man covered from head to toe in ck robes looked down at Hobbes.

    Hobbes smiled and replied.

    [It''s First Corpses. What can I do for you?]

    [I''m here to discuss the civil war, and it''s time to discuss the session to the throne].

    [There are still many eyes watching. If you have anything to discuss, send an owl.]

    [It''s okay sometimes. I don''t know how long it''s been since I''ve had a conversation like this face to face with colleagues.]

    [Even now, only you and I are left.]

    [Yeah, because of the damn demon hunter].

    Hobbes, or rather, Second Corpses and First Corpses, whose faces were covered with ck robes, began to talk about various things.

    [It seems that Third Corpses has been defeated, and there is a faint trace of her attempt to force open the Gate of Destruction in her magic path before her life was cut short].

    [Hehehe- If I''m going to die, I''ll open it and die. She seems like a pathetic wretch].

    [It''s not something tough at. No matter how alone we are without a sense of camaraderie, this is a big problem.]

    [Haha. The purpose of opening the gate is the same].

    [Yes. All our colleagues of them, are dead, and now it''s just you and me. Now is the time to make a deal.]

    Hobbes nodded.

    [If it''s a civil war, don''t worry, I''m about to finish making arge batch of poison, and once these guys are done, the war will be a piece of cake].

    [He was the first poisonous person, wasn''t he?]

    [He was a failure. He seeded in strengthening the flesh and making the personality berserk, but hecked the all-important contagion. The ones aging in the jar now are an improved version. These are the real thing].

    Hobbes turned away as he finished speaking.

    He turned in the direction of the two snakes that had poisoned S��skind earlier.

    [The essence of my magical power is embodied in the form of a demonic beast. The Uroboros, a venomous fountain, an artifact that allows them to bite each other''s tails and create an endless supply of venom. As long as we have this, we can create as many poisonous person as we want].

    [That''s great. It''ll help us in the war.]

    [Of course. A madman, gue-spreading raiding party of maniacs. It has tremendous tactical value].

    Then the man who had been listening to Hobbes up until this point opened his mouth to ask.

    [Then why don''t we try and wipe out the ''Night Walkers'' who will be in Tochka Fortress by now as a test?]

    [Huh? What are they?]

    [The demon hunter who recently killed 4th and 3rd in quick session is said to be nesting there, and for some reason a lot of refugees are heading there].

    [Hmm... It''s a high, rugged ce, but it doesn''t have drinking water, so it wouldn''t be a good ce to shelter, let alone take in refugees.]

    [But that''s what they''re doing. They''re buying uprge quantities of food and drinking water and seem to be preparing for a sit-in].

    [Hahahaha! Foolish! There''s no water source there, and if I let the Poisonous Person loose, they''ll just barricade themselves in and die of starvation].

    Hobbes bared his teeth andughed.

    He waved a hand in the air, and an army of Poisonous Person with red spots all over their backs and bodies stood in formation.

    [The others have fallen victim to the Demon Hunters while standing idly by, but not me. If we know where they are, shouldn''t we be the first ones in?]

    [Be careful, there are many refugees there, and the Demon Hunter is a heartless man, he may use them as shields].

    [The human shield strategy doesn''t work for me. The more filthy humans we have, the better. Infect them all, turn them into poisonous person, and that''s it.]

    The ck-robed manughed with satisfaction.

    [Indeed, for a Demon Hunter with so much to protect, a type like you would be like a natural enemy.]

    [No problem.]

    Hobbes grinned wryly and continued.

    [I''ll conscript all the Poisonous Person, and we''ll set out a month from now at this hour. I''ll go and cut the throat of the Night Hound or something. ...No, wouldn''t it be better to just make him as a Poisonous Person, all of them, Even all of his limbs.]

    [I trust you. By the way, can you do me a favor?]

    [A favor? You to me? What?]

    [... to kill a man].

    The man puts a piece of paper with a face on it down in front of Hobbes.

    [If he were alive, he would look like this right now].

    [...? What''s this? He looks like a worthless bastard.]

    [I think so too. I''m asking just in case.]

    Hobbes shakes his head, but he can''t help but nod.

    First Corpses (һ��ʬ). Aka, the Marquis of Discord.

    It was the first time in his life that the high and arrogant being in front of him had ever asked for such a lowly favor.

 Chapter 449: Declaration of War (2)

    <h4>Chapter 449: Deration of War (2)</h4>

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    Episode 451 Deration of War (2)

    A stack of papersy on the desk.

    They were all different reports, but they all had the same word at the end.

    Defeat. Defeat. Defeat. Defeat. Defeat.

    And then the one looking down at them spoke in a heavy voice.

    "...The Western Front has copsed."

    Morg Mu Respane.

    The mood in the room sank to a somber hush as the Matriarch of the House of Morg spoke.

    The top item on the agenda of the Alliance of Houses meeting, held by the heads of Ironblood Swordsman Baskerville, Mage n Morg, Faithful Quovadis, and Tycoon Bourgeois.

    It was the current state of the civil war.

    Poisonous Dark Master (��������) House Leviathan.

    A family that has been recognized as a master poison manufacturer since the Warring States Period before the Unified Empire.

    Having recently absorbed the powers of Don Quixote the Spearman and Usher the God Killer, Leviathan was growing in strength at an rming rate.

    Respane frowned.

    "The ''poisonous people'' created by the Leviathan family were more difficult to deal with than I thought. It is an army made up of madmen who have lost their sense of reason, and they even spread infectious diseases to the surrounding area..."

    "''Red Death''. If you are infected with it, it saps all the energy from your body, killing you, and when you die, you turn into a puppet. Or should I say, a living corpse... It''s hard to describe."

    Cardinal Martin Luther of the Quovadis was equally puzzled.

    At least Morg and Quovadis were dealing with magic and holy power, so the damage was rtively minor.

    The knights of House Baskerville, on the other hand, who fight with hand-to-handbat, suffered considerable damage from the poisonous attack.

    If Osiris, the young patriarch, and the Seven Counts had not done well in local wars in each region, a significant portion of the territory would have been lost.

    All eyes then turned to Demian, the representative of the Bourgeois family.

    "Wasn''t the Bourgeois family an ally of the Leviathan family in the past?"

    "Hmm. I don''t know about that, as it was the work of the previous head of the family."

    "And you are not one now, Demian?"

    "Technically, I am the acting head of the family. The current Bourgeois family''s head is elsewhere...."

    "But you said that you have acquired quite a few of the remaining secret documents, and I don''t mean to criticize you, so please share them with us."

    At Cardinal Martin Luther''s polite request, Demian opened his mouth.

    "Many of the documents were lost, so I don''t know the details. All I know is that when the Red Death was first created, it was sprayed as a test on the natives of Jungle, and when the natives fought it off surprisingly well, the Leviathan, rmed, created an even more contagious and effective variant. The result is the Poisonous Man, who are now defeating our armies day after day."

    The creatures created by Leviathan are as strong and fierce as demons, but they have no mind and are entirely under the control of their masters.

    They also emit a red mist that drains mana and weakens the body at the mere touch, and if inhaled for long enough, can turn an otherwise healthy person into a monster.

    The Leviathan family even absorbed all the remaining troops of the Usher family and the Don Quixote family, which were allied families, and created Poisonous Man, so its power was growing day by day.

    Adolf, the Magic Star of the Morg, spoke up, his face grim.

    "The Western Front has beenpletely overrun, and we''ve lost all the rubies we''ve mined. How hard it has been to dig up that ruby ??vein! Damn the Leviathan!"

    "The world is getting worse and heresy and cults are running rampant, so we are in a lot of trouble."

    "Wildfires, droughts, starvation, demonic ravages, gues, and cults and heresies... It''s the end of the world."

    Martin Luther and Demian looked grim.

    Then. A new person spoke up.

    " ...Didn''t I say we should have prepared for that long ago?"

    A sarcastic voice, a jab at the heads of Baskerville, Morg, Quabadis, and Bourgeois.

    Professor Morg Banshee, no, Banshee the Principal of Colosseo Academy, crossed his arms in disbelief.

    "Not only are the young bloods of the House dying, but innocentmon citizens as well. People matter, not rubies like that."

    "What? When did I say people are less important? I''m just saying that I''m in charge of ruby mining right now!"

    Adolf, a delegate to the Morg Light Hall, and Banshee, a former member of the Morg Dark Hall, do not get along.

    Banshee snorted at Adolf and the others.

    "This would not have happened if I hadpletely re-investigated the whole case when my pupil was wrongfully acquitted at trial. Leviathan wouldn''t have been raised like this in the first ce.

    Banshee. He was also one of the people who worked harder to save Vikir''s life than anyone else when Vikir was imprisoned.

    He red at those who opposed Vikir''s life-saving efforts at the time, or who were unsympathetic or lukewarm.

    "Isn''t this the result of being blinded by personal interests, turning a blind eye to important issues, keeping your mouths shut... and what were you all doing until the demons came out in such a big way?"

    At Principal Banshee''s words, many people shook their heads or averted their gaze.

    Then, the representatives of the other academies smiled and tried to lighten the mood.

    "Haha, this is not the ce for me, is it?"

    "Principal Banshee, let''s not vent your anger, we have more important things to do right now."

    "That''s right, the immediate concern is how to stop the poisonous army that Leviathan has created."

    Basilios, the Warden of Varangian, Hippolyte, the headmaster of Themiscyra, and Blue Whale, the Master of the Magic Tower, looked at Banshee and fidgeted.

    They are worried that their once united alliance will be divided again.

    "...."

    This was something that was on Banshee''s mind as well, so he kept his mouth shut and just made a frowny face.

    When Dyrachium, the Warden of the Verangian Boot Camp, died after failing to recover from the wounds he received during Sady''s attack, Basilios, the new Warden,forted Banshee.

    "But the situation got a lot better when our Confucianists got involved."

    "That''s right, as the participation rate of student soldiers increased, the number of soldiers also increased."

    "At this rate, we may not be able to overwhelm the poisoners, but we can at least equalize the situation a bit."

    Banshee was still not pleased with what Hippolyte and Whitebeard were saying.

    "I hope everyone can cover up the mistakes of adults through the students'' sacrifice."

    "...."

    "Furthermore. It is groundless optimism to say that the situation has be tense due to the intervention of the academies. If we look at it coldly, students are nothing more than newbies that professors need to protect. Just because student soldiers participate in the war will not significantly increase our military power. It just happens to be at the right time."

    No one responds to the rhetoric.

    Principal Banshee continues, his eyes shining.

    "The Leviathan Family are now bringing the Poisonous Army back home. The evidence is that many situations in which we were intentionally defeated and retreated in battles taking ce in various ces are being captured."

    "Why would they retreat when they have the advantage of having broken the Western Front?"

    Respane asked, and Banshee was silent for a moment.

    "...."

    Is it because of his connection with his hometown, Morg, and because of his older brother, High Councilor Snake?

    After a moment of silence, Banshee spoke, his tone slightly more polite than before.

    "We are gathering our forces together, to make it look natural, to feign defeat."

    At those words, the faces of all the leaders turned grave.

    Leviathan is secretly gathering their forces together.

    No one was stupid enough to not understand the meaning of these words.

    The Leviathan Family must be preparing for arge-scale local battle that could decide the oue of the war.

    Leviathan, Usher, and Don Quixotebined.

    If the legions of poisonous soldiers spread across the country were to advance in unison, their power would be immense.

    It was likely to be the final battle that would decide the oue of the war.

    " ...The problem is, we have no idea where, when, or how they n to strike."

    Everyone nodded at Respane''s words.

    Where, when, and how.

    The most important of the three is the ''where''.

    This is because defense forces must be stationed in advance in ces where fierce battles are likely to ur.

    The great minds of the day began to put their heads together.

    Soon, various locations were being considered for raids.

    "It could be the Red Awl Castle, with its massive veins of ruby. Ruby is the best transmitter of magic, so they''ll be eager to secure it...."

    "Maybe it''s Dortsmile? Since this is where the core facilities of the Magic Train are located, if this ce is destroyed, the distribution and supply routes of the allies will be cut off...."

    "It could be St. Ma, where the first Red Death was found in a well in the slums, so there could be something hidden in the area...."

    Political reasons, strategic reasons, cultural reasons, and many other reasons are presented as evidence with detailed analysis.

    A hundred schools of thought contend (�ټҠ��Q).

    Everyone was talking about different regions.

    All of them could be attacked by Leviathan, so it was hard to pinpoint one region.

    ... Just then.

    "Tochka."

    One of the men spoke up.

    A voice that offered no evidence, but sounded terribly confident.

    Everyone in the room turned to look at the speaker.

    "...."

    A cold impression.

    The energy radiating from his entire body is sharply forged like a sword.

    The scent of blood was evident in his every move, and every time he moved his gaze, it felt like a sword was being drawn.

    His identity is Hugo.

    Hugo Le Baskerville, Patriarch of House Baskerville, the Iron Blooded Swordsman.

    He looked down at the map and spoke.

    "They wille to Tochka."

    The words were so full of certainty that everyone questioned them.

    "Fortress] Tochka? Why is that remote teau...?"

    "Isn''t it a ce with good defense, but no water source for drinking water, so it has no tactical value?"

    "Anyone with even a passing knowledge of military tactics would avoid ces like this."

    "From the Leviathan''s point of view, there''s no reason to attack it."

    "Do you have any reason?"

    Hugo''s answer was simple and to the point.

    "My son is there."

 Chapter 450: Declaration of War (3)

    <h4>Chapter 450: Deration of War (3)</h4>

    "They wille to Tochka. Because my son is there."

    Hugo replied to the skepticism everyone was expressing toward Tochka.

    His assurance, so full of conviction that it seemed almost self-righteous, drew chatter from those around him.

    "Tochka is a well-defended fortress, but it has no strategic value because there is no ce to get drinking water, right?"

    "There was anky warlord who encamped there during the Warring States Period and was defeated because there was no water."

    "That''s why it''s called ''Crying Castle.''."

    "The Leviathan Family are so sneaky and cunning, they would never target such a ce."

    The evaluations of those around him were generally negative.

    ... But Baskerville patriarch Hugo isn''t one to let the stares andments get to him.

    "So what are you saying?"

    That''s his way. No one can open their mouths to Hugo''s rebuttal.

    The iron-blooded swordsman''s name, Baskerville, was heavy and sharp.

    Hugo spoke, his tone unwavering.

    "My son is there. He''s there, and he''s not fooling around. Our enemies must have realized that by now."

    And surprisingly, Hugo''s hardline demeanor was met with a few sneaky nods of agreement.

    "Hmmm. Come to think of it, one of my daughters is there. She''s a little girl, she''s so obsessed with men...."

    Matriarch Respane of Morg said in a low voice.

    "Our saintess is there, too."

    "Hmmm... I hate to say it, but our own Gaju seems to have been there recently as well."

    Martin Luther of the Quovadis and Demian of the Bourgeois nodded in agreement.

    Morg Mu Camus, Dolores Lun Quovadis, and Sinir J Bourgeois are also known to be in Tochka at the moment.

    They hadn''t exactly reported their whereabouts, but it was information the trio had gleaned in secret.

    ''The Night Walkers''.

    The heads of the Houses knew that Dolores and Camus, along with many others, had gathered there and were hosting refugees.

    Some held their tongues.

    "So the Night Hound was a scion of House Baskerville, was he?"

    "I thought he was imprisoned in Nouvelle Vague, but how did he get to Tochka?"

    "No, I''m pretty sure he was reported dead in Nouvelle Vague...."

    To those questions, Hugo surprisingly readily opened his mouth and answered them.

    "I heard he escaped not long ago."

    At that, everyone''s mouths dropped open.

    What is Nouvelle Vague like? Isn''t it the worst prison in the world, where once you''re locked up, not even your soul can escape? And he''s escaped from such a ridiculous ce?

    Hugo, feeling everyone''s eyes on him, shrugged.

    "That guy is a genius."

    This isn''t the kind of bragging that goes along with, ''Look what school my son got into this time~'' or ''I heard he got first in his ss there~''.

    It''s only natural that Hugo would be met with a look of disbelief when he calls someone who escaped from Nouvelle Vague, the worst prison in the world, a genius.

    "Whatever. My son''s judgment always had a reason. I will go to Tochka to honor it."

    Hugo''s argument was clear and forceful.

    Adolf, a Mage who knew a bit about Vikir, nodded in agreement.

    "Certainly, the fellow is trustworthy, and while he must have had something in mind when he made that ce his hideout... I think support is necessary as people may suffer without drinking water for a while. So you mean the Baskervilles are sending an army to Fort Tochka?"

    "No. I''m going alone."

    "...?"

    Adolf shook his head, and Hugo answered as if it were obvious.

    "This is not as a Baskervilles patriarch, but as a father. There''s a difference between state and private."

    " ... I didn''t know you loved your children so much, did you?"

    "Do you want to be my son? Why should you know how much I love my children?"

    "...."

    Hugo replied grimly, touching his chin as if his shaved beard was missing.

    It''s the patriarch''s move in the first ce, so it''s only natural that the entire House would be behind it, but since the whole point is that the father is going to see his son in private, there''s no room for other powers to interfere.

    Well, whatever.

    The first time they saw Hugo making such a strong assertion, they all had a lot to say.

    Under the circumstances.

    "I''ll go with you, Father. I also have a lover there."

    "I''ll join you too!"

    "I''ll join you!"

    "I''ll join!"

    Osiris Le Baskerville, the young patriarch of the Baskerville, said the same thing behind Hugo''s back.

    So did the three brothers next to him, Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro.

    The idea of moving to Fort Tochka seemed to be viewed positively by the Morg.

    "She''s my daughter, but I''m worried about her because she''s a bit too naive."

    "Why don''t youe with us and see for yourself?"

    "Please take us with you too."

    "After the war is over, they''re going to harass you and tell you that you''re hiding somewhere and not even bothering to prick your nose."

    "Ugh... I''m so scared just thinking about being ripped to shreds. I''d rather die fighting in front of him."

    Respane and Adolf. And the three sisters, Highsis, Midsis, and Lowsis, agree.

    "Our saintess is there, too. We''ve always wanted to visit her, so we might as well."

    "I''ll go too. We must protect our lord."

    Martin Luther of the Quovadis and Demian of the Bourgeois nodded in agreement.

    With so many people talking seriously about reinforcements to Fort Tochka, or even moving their camps, public opinion began to tilt toward skepticism.

    Just then.

    "You can''t go that way! There''s an important meeting right now...!"

    A panicked shout from a guardes from outside the conference room door.

    An urgent tone, like he''s trying to stop someone.

    BANG!

    Soon, the door suddenly burst open.

    jeobeog- jeobeog- jeobeog- jeobeog-

    Five figures stormed into the conference room.

    "...!?"

    The atmosphere in the room changed drastically.

    Everyone''s posture and facial expressions show their shock at seeing these unexpected faces.

    Some characters have sullen expressions, as if they don''t even know who they are.

    A few, however, seemed to already know about the unauthorized intruders in the room.

    "...What brings the all-stars of Nouvelle Vague here?"

    Figures so formidable that even Morg Banshee, the Principal of Colosseo Academy, had to adjust his posture.

    Colonel D''Ordume. Colonel Souare. Brigadier General BDISSEM. Brigadier General Flubber.

    ...And ck Tongue.

    They are the five great wardens of Nouvelle Vague.

    Even behind them were arge number of Nouvelle Vague guards, known for their ferocity and skill.

    D''Ordume was the first to step forward.

    "The Nouvelle Vague is gone. A volcanic eruption wiped it out without a trace, and the guards who were lucky enough to survive were all unemployed. Just like us."

    Souare was the next to speak.

    Her gaze had been fixed on Hugo since earlier.

    "It''s thanks to your son''s splendid behavior."

    "...my son?"

    Hugo rolled his eyes slightly, and Souare quickly averted her gaze, trying to distract him.

    BDISSEM. followed Souare''s lead and said stiffly.

    "For now, we... Because I am a civil servant belonging to the imperial family... I need to find a ce to stay... I guess I was following the current captain''s orders... I came here..."

    After finishing her sentence, BDISSEM nced at the man he called ''the current captain''.

    Flubber, who was cowering on the floor, was also looking at him.

    "...."

    "...."

    Surprisingly, D''Ordume and Souare don''t say anything.

    Their faces showed that they agreed with BDISSEM.

    This should have surprised everyone in the room.

    A leader recognized even by D''Ordume and Souare, who were fiercely fighting over the position of head of Nouvelle Vague.

    Had there ever been anyone like this before, except for the Major General Orca Montreuil-sur-Mer Javert?

    All eyes in the room turned toward the figure at the back of the room.

    Then thest of the wardens stepped forward.

    ck Tongue.

    The current leader of Nouvelle Vague''s five wardens.

    He opened his mouth with bright red eyes.

    "We''re going to Tochka, and everyone here should go there, too. As many people as possible, all together!"

    Many expressed their displeasure at ck Tongue''s harsh, almost imperative tone.

    "What does that mean,ing out of nowhere?"

    "Do you even know what you''re talking about?"

    "How dare you order me around, guards. Do you know how many high-ranking nobles are here?"

    "More than that. Colonel ck Tongue, did you... originally look like that?"

    "I think my appearance has changed a lot."

    However, Nouvelle Vague''s five wardens werepletely unmoved despite such criticism.

    ck Tongue continued to speak in a chilling voice.

    "...So much for nice words."

    To several rather shocked-looking figures, ck Tongue drew his own sword.

    jjeog-

    ''Asmodeus'', a magic sword that splits the table in the center of the conference hall in half.

    It is truly bizarre to see the small pieces joined together to resemble a whip.

    Everyone''s faces stiffened.

    The atmosphere in the room is frozen, and the tension between the people is palpable.

    Only then did ck Tongue drive in another wedge.

    "If you don''t want to get fucked, you should all go to Tochka."

 Chapter 451: Declaration of War (4)

    <h4>Chapter 451: Deration of War (4)</h4>

    ...udeudeug!

    The battlefield was filled with smoke.

    The Night Hound stares coldly at his freshly killed prey.

    Except for the broken neck, it looks like a normal human.

    However, judging from the bright red color of its eyes and the red spots on its skin, it was definitely not in a normal state.

    Poisonous Man (����).

    An unintelligent and extremely fierce creature that lunges at humans with a luminescent glow.

    Their bites and prolonged exposure to the red energy emanating from their skin can also turn normal humans into Poisonous Man.

    Overall, it was simr to a zombie, a low-level undead, but its physical abilities and the amount of poison it emitted were iparably dangerous.

    "Hmph. It must be even more dangerous than him."

    Vikir thought of Sakkuth de Leviathan, a fellow prisoner of the Nouvelle Vague.

    Formerly known as the Leviathan''s scoundrel, he was permanently expelled from the family, taking sole responsibility for the ''First Red Death Incident''.

    But.

    ''How did you know? There is actually no gue poison in my blood.''

    The Sakkuth he met in Nouvelle Vague was strong and fierce, but unsteadily sane, and did not carry the gue.

    No one had been infected with the gue until he was eaten by Brigadier Flubber.

    But the venomous creatures you just encountered were not only strong and vicious, they seemed to be faithfully carrying out the orders of some entity.

    They''re also spreading the Red Death, which has been modified to be more contagious, making them even more dangerous.

    "How they managed to create all these Poisonous Man is a mystery. Surely there must be a limit to the amount of poison they can produce...."

    These poisonous beings had been around before Vikir''s regression.

    But even then, the mystery of how Leviathan had managed to produce so many of them had never been solved.

    "I can''t help but say that I''m d that Dolores is her...."

    Even if you are bitten by a poisonous person or exposed to poison for a long time, there is no problem as long as you receive the priest''s protection at the right time.

    It was also fortunate that the Red Death could not prate the space where the Saintess resided, radiating holy power.

    Vikir thought to himself.

    It was a good thing he''d recruited Dolores in the first ce, and that he''d been there to help her develop her skills.

    ...peog! ...peog! ...peog! ...peog! ...peoeog!

    Vikir turned his head only after he had finished making sure the ground was covered with the corpses of the Poisonous Man.

    Huge craters had formed in the ground where the poisonous creatures had been lying.

    The ground had been torn fiercely.

    They were the marks of eight teeth.

    Vikir thought for a moment.

    ''My proficiency with the Eight has certainly increased since Nouvelle Vague.''

    Little did Vikir know that after Hell Tree, there was still room for improvement in the Eight Form, which he thought he had already mastered.

    With a newfound sense of humility, Vikir reevaluated his swordsmanship.

    There is a wall up there, a wall of the 9th Form that cannot be crossed in one''s lifetime, as CaneCorso said.

    [You will probably not reach it in your lifetime, for the realm of the 9th Form lies beyond the threshold of death].

    [To reach the 10th Form, you must die and awaken. I don''t understand what that means, so I''m still stuck at the 9th Form. How am I supposed to awaken when I''m already dead, and I may never reach the 10th Form?]

    Like a legendary ind that appears only on stormy nights, or like a rainbow after rain.

    The 9th Form that is visible to the eye but can never be reached, but it is definitely there.

    Is it really possible to cross that threshold only after death?

    Even at the highest level, there are different levels.

    Also, in the deep world, there clearly exists something called ''ultimate intention.''

    Vikir has been struggling to grasp a clue to this ever since he was imprisoned in Nouvelle Vague.

    Right then.

    [Kyaaahhh-]

    A scream shatters Vikir''s reverie.

    A girl crawled out of the pile of bodies.

    Her face couldn''t have been more than ten years old.

    When he turned his head, he saw a red-spotted, poisonous creature with a mist of pestilence spewing from its entire body.

    "...."

    Vikir''s mouth falls open for a moment as he sees the girl charging at him, tooth and nail.

    The face bears a striking resemnce to the one he remembers.

    ''Nymphet.'' Remembering a small encounter he''d had while volunteering at the orphanage long ago, Vikir reached out and brought his hand to the girl''s throat.

    ...ttug!

    The limbs, which had been struggling roughly like a demon, began to droop helplessly.

    The girl, who had been writhing in agony even after death, was finally at peace.

    Vikir has been traveling from battlefield to battle, eliminating countless Poisonous Man.

    The girl before him was thest of his kills.

    Vikir nodded, looking at the wheel tracks, half-wrecked carriages, and broken drinking water bottles near the Poisonous People.

    "...Same. Were they targeting the supply route to Tochka?"

    Poisonous people lined the roads where the wagons carrying drinking water traveled.

    Perhaps the Leviathan Family had begun pressuring Tochka from this side in earnest.

    There is already something suspicious about Poisonous Man disappearing from various parts of the civil war zone these days.

    "Perhaps there will be an all-out war soon."

    The scale and intensity of the battle in Tochka may be small inparison to therger wars raging across the Empire''s vast territory.

    However, that was just the general public''s view, and the demons probably quickly realized that Tochka was a gathering ce for dangerous elements.

    A seedy backwater where no one cares and no one supports.

    But who could have guessed that this is where the final battle for humanity''s existence would begin?

    Vikir closed his eyes and remembered the days before his regression.

    Leviathan had onceid siege to Tochka with an army of countless poisoners.

    iming that it was the duty and right of the Great House to take control of thend on behalf of the family that had lost the ability to manage it.

    Ever since then, a feudal war has raged.

    It was a war of such magnitude that it was thought of as a war of nations against nations.

    At the beginning of the war, the Allies clearly had the upper hand.

    At the forefront of the battlefield, the Swordsmen of Baskerville and the Mages of Morg crushed the Poisonous Man with terrifying force.

    The Seven Counts of Baskerville, who were said to spend their lives solely in battle, and the Seven Knights, as well as the old and seasoned beasts of the Senate, who were thought to be old men in the backroom, came forward, the Poisonous Man went out like candles before the wind.

    The synergy between Morg''s core power, the Light Hall, and the Dark Hall, the secret power that is not revealed, joined hands, the synergy effect was also enormous.

    Even Leviathan, who had absorbed Don Quixote and Usher, seemed to falter under their onught.

    The tide was tipping in their favor.

    ''...And then it happened.''

    The Rainy Season of Fire.

    Showers of fire, a deluge of mes that never stopped for 150 days.

    A long rainy season that wiped out 98% of humanity. A season of disaster.

    The final weapon of the demons that inflicted the greatest and most horrific damage on the Human Alliance.

    Cold sweat broke out on Vikir''s forehead as he recalled the scene of that day when countless dead bodies formed a dark red horizon and the entire sky was aze.

    ...kkwaleuleung!

    The distant sky was darkening.

    The clouds had an unnerving reddish tint, and even the thunder crackled with something sinister.

    The ce where the original home of Leviathan, a Poisonous Dark Master, is located.

    Beneath those ominous clouds, Poisonous Man must be gathering. The Poisonous armies are returning from the various battles of the Civil War.

    "...."

    Vikir looked around the Leviathan family''s main home, but was unable to find a way to infiltrate the tight perimeter, so he had no choice but to turn back.

    He tried to figure out what had produced so many Poisonous Man, but was unsessful.

    "Still, it is a great harvest to find out that Poisonous Man are gathering in one ce."

    Now it was time to return to their home base and prepare for the next big attack.

    "With Dolores, we can put off worrying about the Red Death itself for a bit, but... merebat power is a problem."

    The defense of Tochka Fortress, where a single soldier can easily hold off a hundred, is a matter of faith.

    Outside the strong fortress of Tochka, the evil spirits of the Red Death will be performing a mad masquerade.

    In and where infectious diseases are rampant, the inside and outside of the fortress have now be apletely different world.

    Now everyone, centered around Saintess Dolores, is locked inside the castle and must never go out.

    Vikir also nned to close the gates and stage a sit-in once he returned to Tochka afterpleting this secret mission.

    "...."

    Vikir stared down at the girl''s cold, motionless body for a long moment before taking a step forward.

    How many more of these innocent lives will die, he wondered.

    When the time of destructiones, it will be faster to count the living than the dying.

    So many more innocent, unknowing, sinless, pure people will die.

    No, Rather, the absolute majority of small citizens who are moderately calcting, moderately mean, moderately good, and moderately conscientious will all perish.

    hwaleuleug-

    Vikir threw a match over the bodies of the Poisonous, including the girl who had just died.

    Soon, an acrid smell spreads.

    A small me that bloomed on and marred by drought and famine soon spread into a rage that seemed to burn the whole world down.

    Seeing the burning corpses of so many Poisonous Man, Vikir turned his backpletely.

    The Night Hound turned back.

    Back to his fortress, a natural fortress that specializes in defense and protection.

    To Tochka, where his allies await.

    And to the final battlefield.

 Chapter 452: Infiltration of the water source (1)

    <h4>Chapter 452: Infiltration of the water source (1)</h4>

    "We''re running out of water."

    Hearing CindyWendy''s words, the expressions of everyone in the conference room turned serious.

    Tochka. A natural fortress. An imprable fortress where a single soldier could defend against a hundred enemies.

    However, the fortress has a fatal w: there is no drinking water nearby.

    CindyWendy continued.

    "The number of refugees from all over the empire is staggering, and even if we had enough food, it would be hardly enough to distribute the water."

    "Can''t we buy it even if we pay more?"

    "There is still money left. Although I have used up almost all of my wealth, there is some assistance from the Bourgeois, but I have nothing for sale at the moment."

    CindyWendy shook her head at Camus''s question.

    Dolores spoke up, her tone worried.

    "The Leviathan''s poisonous people keep cutting the supply lines, so our water isn''t getting here. At this rate, we''ll be wiped out by starvation before the war even starts."

    Humans are 80 percent water.

    The amount of water stored in the human body is approximately 50L.

    Without doing anything, the body breaks down fat and produces about 0.25 liters of water.

    This means that humans can only go for about three days without drinking water, after which dehydration bes life-threatening as the stomach rebels.

    "I wonder if all the people of the empire are here, so many of them."

    "It''s all because we''ve been so good at spreading the Ark story. ...But have we taken it a little too far?"

    Bianca and Tudor nodded in agreement.

    ''Fire and water will only avoid this ce, and only here will true salvation be achieved.''

    Thend of salvation in the new revtion.

    Dolores, the Night Saint, created a new oracle for the Church and spread it among the people.

    The refugees who fled their homes to follow these words have gathered in vast numbers within the walls of Fortress Tochka.

    Of course, those who ignored the oracle, those who did not believe, did note.

    The Night Walkers had made every effort to send them to the nearby hignds.

    "We''ve managed to hold out so far, with helping in from many directions, but we can''t do it anymore...."

    Even the great CindyWendy raised both hands and feet.

    So far, many people besides the Night Walkers have been sending support without realizing it.

    Bisamo, led by Lovegood of Themiscyra; alumni of Colosseo, such as Gordon and Underdog; the entire Colosseo staff, including Principal Banshee; the Bk n of the Western Jungle; Mozgus of Quovadisgar; Adolf of Morg, Demian of the Bourgeois, Isabe of the Baskerville, and many other benefactors from all walks of life have sent food, water, troops, and other manpower, and the refugees of Tochka have been able to live a better life than before, despite their difort.

    But now things were different.

    As the civil war in the empire gradually intensified and the Leviathan family grew in power, there was a disruption in the supply of drinking water.

    The vast Tochka teau is quickly bing overwhelmed with refugees.

    "There were fights between refugees over water rations again today. The vigntes are keeping order, but I don''t know how long that willst."

    Camus''s voice was serious.

    Dolores spoke with a serious expression on her face as well.

    "Judging by the amount of water we have left, I''d say four days, if we conserve and save..., and then it''s really over."

    After all, there''s only four days of water.

    If you consider how long humans can survive without water, that''s about a week.

    Everyone in Tochka has about a week to live.

    In the end, everyone''s eyes are directed to the highest table in the conference room.

    CindyWendy, Camus, and Dolores, the top leaders of the Nightwalkers, also paid attention to a spot higher up than them.

    Vikir.

    There was a man who was always so expressionless that it was impossible to tell what he was thinking.

    Finally, Vikir''s mouth opened.

    "Hold on."

    The words were met with different reactions.

    Camus nodded in understanding, Dolores wondered how to convince the others, and Sinir scratched her head, trying to figure out how to hold on.

    CindyWendy just sighs heavily with a ''here we go again'' look on her face.

    Just then, Piggy, next to her, asks in a cautious tone.

    "Vikir. We all believe in you, but I''m sure many of the refugees here don''t, and I don''t know what to tell them. We can''t just tell them to hang in there, can we?"

    "But I can only tell them to hold on."

    Vikir opened his mouth.

    His tone was t, but still full of conviction.

    "You''ve done a much better job than I expected, and we''ve been able to gather a lot of people, so I was wrong to be a bit off. But give it a little time and everything will work itself out. I can promise you that."

    " ...You''re just saying that because you don''t think it''s possible to wait that little bit longer?"

    It was the Chihuahua who interrupted from the side.

    He had be Vikir''s loyal aide, and he was quick to criticize him.

    "Isn''t it frustrating for the people around you to keep the n to yourself? Why don''t you share it with the people around you? No, why don''t you just wait and see when there''s only four days'' worth of water left?"

    Chihuahua''s bluntness caused a few people around him internally delighted.

    But Vikir''s attitude didn''t change.

    "I can''t help it. If I blurt out my ns too soon, the enemy might get wind of it, and if I tell them, they won''t believe me, and our allies might be rattled. I''m hoping they''ve gotten the hint and will trust me this time."

    "Well, you''re still as stubborn as ever, even though you''re a young man on the outside, you''re like a middle-aged man on the inside, so what are you going to do about getting marriedter!"

    Chihuahua''s whining caused several of the women around him to flinch.

    Vikir, meanwhile, was forced to give in to the Chihuahua''s persistent nagging.

    "... Is the drinking water situation so bad that we can''t evenst a week?"

    "You''ve seen and heard, there''s still more refugeesing in, and I was being optimistic about four days. In a week or so, this ce, Tochka, will be overrun with people who have died of dehydration!"

    Collecting dew or squeezing the juice from nts has its limits.

    Something terrible could happen before Vikir''s solution really came to light.

    "It''s true, that there''s not much we can do but wait."

    A look of sadness appears on everyone''s faces after hearing Vikir''s words.

    Just then.

    Minpin, in the corner of the room, cautiously raised his hand.

    "Mr. Boss... No, Senator. I have something to tell you."

    Meeting Vikir''s gaze, he pulled something out of his pocket and ced it on the desk.

    It was a small cage, and inside was something with blue wings pping about.

    Sinir''s eyes widened at Vikir''s side.

    "That''s a nymph, isn''t it?"

    "That''s right, we only just caught it yesterday."

    Minpin nodded.

    He was a former scout, and the Empire''s foremost expert on the ecology of many monsters.

    "Nymphs only live where there is water."

    Everyone''s eyes lit up at Minpin''s words.

    Even Vikir gestured for Minpin to continue.

    Minpin spoke as best he could.

    "I found this nymph on a mountain peak not far from Tochka. It''s a high, steep, rocky ce, and it''s so thick with bushes that it''s hard to see what''s above when you''re looking up from below. I thought I''d die several times trying to gather it."

    "Why do you think the nymphs live there?"

    "Because there''s water there, of course, isn''t it?"

    Minpin said, almost convinced.

    "I think there''s a volcanicke on that mountain peak, down in the crater."

    A water source. There might be ake hidden on the other side of Tochka, on top of a jagged mountain peak.

    "There''s a 99.9% chance there''s ake there, and a nice, clear, freshwaterke at that."

    "...Hmmm. So why hasn''t it been discovered before now?"

    "Well, I saw the nymph''s trail and spent days and days tracking it down, and I nearly fell to my death dozens of times. If it took an expert collector like me to find it, no one else could have done it."

    Hearing Minpin''s answer, Vikir stroked his chin and thought hard.

    The presence of a water source near Fort Tochka was something that hadn''t been revealed before the regression.

    Perhaps it was a butterfly effect of having Minpin as a consignment.

    ''If this is true, it''s a great piece of information.''

    Vikir recognized the value of this information.

    Camus, studying the map, spoke thoughtfully.

    "It''s not too far away, and the terrain suggests that if we st the bedrock enough, we might be able to create a waterway to Tochka."

    "Judging by the size of the crater, it looks pretty big and wide, so if there''s a water source, I''m guessing it''s plentiful."

    "Nymphs only live inrgekes with lots of water. There''s a lot of potential."

    Dolores and Sinir agreed.

    Vikir nodded as well.

    Minipin is a talented person who was selected and chosen during his time in the Imperial Capital, so he also trusts Vikir.

    Vikir considers for a moment, then nods.

    "Very well. We''ll change the n slightly. First, we''ll get the water source for this point."

    Vikir, who is extremely conservative when ites to changing ns, decided to do something different this time.

    A makeshift. No more, no less, just enough drinking water tost a week or so.

    When Vikir''s decision was made, CindyWendy smiled broadly, as if all was right with the world.

    "Finally, I see a way out! I''ll support you with all my might!"

    The others all look determined and eager to join the quest for water.

    Just then.

    "Emergency! Emergency! Emergency!"

    An urgent reportes in from the sentry on the watchtower outside the window.

    "The Leviathan''s poisonous man are attacking up ahead, and there''s an unknown number of them!"

    It was a report that instantly overturned the excited atmosphere caused by the discovery of the water source.

 Chapter 453: Infiltration of the water source (2)

    <h4>Chapter 453: Infiltration of the water source (2)</h4>

    "House Leviathan!"

    "The poisonous people areing!"

    "They''re numerous!"

    The cries of the fortress guards were all simr.

    The horizon was stained ck.

    An army of poisonous people covered the ground like a curtain descending from above.

    The battle for the destruction of Fortress Tochka began in earnest, with the red death aura flowing like a demonic spirit.

    Kyaaaaaaag-

    The poisonous people rushed madly towards the first wall.

    They cling to the walls with their bare bodies with a fierce aggression and ferocity that cannot be considered human.

    ...peoeog!

    Just as a bird dies when it hits a wall, the first poisonous man who rushed at the fortress smashed its head against the solid wall of Tochka Fortress and died.

    Then another poisonous man stepped on the corpse and smashed his head against the wall.

    ...peoeog! ...peoeog! ...peoeog! ...peoeog! ...peoeog! ...peoeog! ...peoeog! ...peoeog! ...peoeog! ...peoeog!

    The bodies of the poisonous people piled up one after another, gradually taking on the shape of a mass.

    And there was a single figure leading all these poisonous people.

    The ck hood and cloak that covers his entire body, and the scythe he holds in his hand, has not only the de but also the hilt bent in a bizarre way.

    "...What is he?"

    "Has hee to harvest or something?"

    The guards ask in disbelief.

    ...sh!

    The monster swung the scythe in his hand once.

    A terrifying poisonous energy flew out with the strike and struck the city wall.

    kwakwang!

    The blow was so heavy that the entire city wall shook.

    The Harvester wielded his scythe as if he hade to harvest the lives of his enemies.

    With each blow, a powerful poisonous aura surrounded him, and the poisonous people around him grew stronger and stronger.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca stood together.

    "Is that dark fellow the leader of the vanguard?"

    "He seems to be quite skilful. His scythe wielding is quite impressive."

    "He does look like amander...."

    "I think the soldiers call him ''The Harvester,'' and it looks like he''s here to harvest our lives."

    Bianca was the first to step forward.

    "Let''s see what you got, shall we?"

    Bianca''s arrow, the one that had killed Andrealphus, was aimed at the Harvesters.

    peong!

    The arrow shot through the air.

    "...!"

    The Harvester seemed to instinctively sense the threat.

    But he didn''t raise his scythe.

    chachachachachag!

    Bianca''s arrows were blocked, as countless poisonous people formed like a human shield.

    Bianca fired a few more times after that, but all of her arrows were blocked by the shields before they could reach the Harvester.

    "Cih. You''re so cheap. What kind of master are you?"

    Bianca clicked her tongue as she watched the Harvester back away from the arrows.

    But even now, the poisonous people kepting.

    Waves of red death.

    The poison they breathed and the fountains of blood they spewed as they died could infect even the unaffected, turning them into poisonous people.

    If not for the purifying power of Dolores, who maintains a wide-area divine barrier at the heart of Fort Tochka, this iron fortress would have been shaken.

    chwaag-

    The Harvester stretched his hand out to the side, and the poisonous people''s path changed.

    The Harvester continues to lead the poisonous people, attacking the weakest points in the walls.

    He was strong inbat, but he also seemed to have a keen eye for tactics.

    "Ugh, these monsters...."

    "Abination of a military mindedmander and soldiers who blindly follow him. It was not for nothing that they swept through the civil war."

    "And with its poison, it''s no wonder it''s invincible."

    "Damn it! It''s scaring the soldiers!"

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca gritted their teeth and encouraged their men, but the tide was turning in Leviathan''s favour.

    Just then.

    "Don''t back down, you idiots!"

    A gruff shout came from the ramparts above.

    All eyes, friend and foe alike, instantly turned to the central castle wall.

    There, a huge old man stood tall, holding a club.

    Orca. ''Orca Montreuil-sur-Mer Javert''. The warden of Nouvelle Vague.

    A master of defence and fortitude, he looked out over the entire battlefield from beneath the ramparts.

    "If you retreat, everyone behind you will die! If you fight here, the only thing you''ll lose is your own life, and what better business is there than to die alone, or to have your entire family ughtered!"

    The soldiers'' eyes snap back to focus as they hear Orca''s rant.

    For a split second, the atmosphere stopped tilting.

    The seasoned veteran did not miss the timing.

    "The spearmen and the head carpenters, step forward."

    At Orca''smand, the men who had been waiting in the wings stepped forward.

    They stretched out their long spears and long trees at the poisonous people climbing the ramparts, pushing them back from a distance far beyond their reach.

    And the furry cushions and bamboo drapes that the refugees had made overnight fell down to catch the poisonous blood.

    Orca looked away.

    In the distance, he could see a cloud of dust rising with the poison fog.

    "Dig a hole in the ground, bury the jar, and select those with sensitive senses of hearing and touch to go into it. You can tell if the enemy is digging a tunnel."

    Orca began to organise the defence of the fortress.

    "Assign five men to each castle, but appoint one captain for every five strokes, and one captain for every twenty-five strokes. The Chiefs of Command, who are in charge of the 50 strokes, are to direct the divisions of the respective defenses and defend only their respective areas."

    The pre-positioned troops move at Orca''smand.

    Orca watched the poisonous people squirming camp in real time and continued to give orders.

    "The artillerymen in charge of the fortifications must keep the charcoal fires burning and beat the drums every ten minutes, so that the soldiers know they only have to hold out until the next drum. Also, the militia will be on guard inside the castle to ensure that no rogues interfere with supplies, especially oil and gunpowder."

    The tide of battle began to turn again when Orca, who had been watching the situation from the sidelines, stepped to the forefront.

    The soldiers had been reassured by the appearance of an old war hero.

    With Tochka''s defenders now organised, the Poisonous People''s offensive was forced to retreat.

    "As expected, you''re good at it."

    Vikir, who was leading the soldiers on the other side of the wall, looked at Orca''smand in the distance and nodded.

    Even before his retreat, Orca had been a master of defence and defensive warfare.

    It was no exaggeration to say that Orca''s participation in thetter stages of the war had kept humanity alive.

    Unfortunately, he was protecting the Nouvelle Vague at the bottom of the deep sea while the war intensified, and he entered the war at the very end, so he was unable to prevent countless people from dying in the early and middle stages of the war.

    ...But now is different.

    Brought to the surface by Vikir, Orca was working for humanity before the war had even begun in earnest.

    And in earnest!

    "We''re in trouble! They''reing from Leviathan House with shields and carts, and the Poisonous Army is approaching!"

    The poisonous army was carrying shields to defend against arrows and stones, and longdders for the city walls.

    There were also huge poisonous man with huge axes, trying to chip away at the stones and pirs at the base of the walls.

    But Orca''s face remained unchanged as he gave the following instructions.

    "Pour the oil supplied to the militia onto the ramparts of the wall, and the potters throw charcoal on it. Put away thences and the hangman''s nooses, and in their ce, tie sacks of gunpowder and iron shavings to chains and roll them over the ramparts."

    Soon, the oil is flowing down the slightly sloping walls of Fort Tochka.

    The poisonous man, who climbed the castle wall as if they were rock climbing fell down after struggling, covered in oil.

    The slippery walls were too steep for even the strongest of poisonous man could not climb it.

    Gunpowder, shards of iron, and charcoal rained down on them.

    kwakwakwakwang!

    The oil, mes, and gunpowderbined to create a chain of explosions.

    The shards of iron scattered together spread with terrifying force, tearing through the poisonous people.

    Not a single limb was left intact amongst the small and exploding bodies that soared into the sky.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca''s mouths dropped open in amazement.

    "Well, I don''t think you have any particrly ingenious or special strategies, but you''re still amazing."

    "It is exactly as it is in the textbook. It is an extremely standard and exemry water battle."

    "It''s actually quite difficult to be precise, because you need to know exactly what''s going on with your troops and control them so that you don''t lose your supply and troops."

    "Is sticking to the basics the most difficult thing? That''s amazing... I guess this is a matter of age and experience."

    As time passed, the poisonous people''s general offensive was clearly weakening.

    The red evil spirits on the horizon were gradually opening up holes.

    The brave soldiers looked up at the ramparts and cried out.

    "Woaaaah! the poisonous people are backing down! It''s the war hero of the old country!"

    "We''ve almost stopped them! Hail, Major General Orca! Hail!"

    "Javert, what do we do now!"

    "Hurry up and give the next order!"

    The crowd was sending a torrent of abuse towards Orca.

    However, the Orca only exhaled thick cigarette smoke and frowned as if it were annoyed.

    "What do I know after that?"

    ...?

    The words that made everyone doubt their own ears came out of the mouth of the old country''s war hero.

    Orca chewed on his words as he watched the enemy''s fire slowly die down.

    "I only defend. Offence is for others."

    When he finished, he jerked his cigarette to the side in disgust.

    Everyone''s eyes shifted to the side wall Orca had pointed out.

    And there, an old man with a creepy smile on his face.

    "Pushishishi...."

    Sade. The former Marquis de Sade, C��dric de Sade, Ang-gajumang.

    He looks down at the poisonous army in front of him with a look of amusement on his face.

 Chapter 454: Infiltration of the Water Source (3)

    <h4>Chapter 454: Infiltration of the Water Source (3)</h4>

    Major General Orca, a master of defensive warfare, hase to the forefront, and the siege has slowed the Leviathan''s momentum.

    And there was a master of offense who didn''t miss a beat.

    "Pushishishi...."

    Sade. The former Marquis de Sade, C��dric de Sade, Ang-gajumang.

    His eyes twinkled with amusement.

    "I suppose it''s my turn from here."

    Marquis de Sade looked back at Major General Orca.

    "You had trouble with my attack about forty years ago right? I think I''ll use that tactic."

    "Hung. Wasn''t it ultimately blocked by my defense at that time? So you were captured."

    "That''s because we were vastly outnumbered, you old man."

    After a lifetime of fierce battles, the two enemies joined hands.

    Marquis de Sade was a man with a genius for tormenting and making others suffer.

    Master of mercenary warfare who, forty years earlier, had challenged the entire empire with a coalition of only forty-seven families and hade close to decapitating the Emperor.

    Marquis de Sade is also a descendant of the prestigious House of Sade, a family that has been prominent for generations.

    He was also a man who received overwhelming support from survivors and sessors from defeated countries that fell or were forcibly merged.

    "Marquis de Sade, I will follow you!"

    "Just give me themand!"

    "We will be with you even in death!"

    "Ooh! the glory of the past is being recreated!"

    The soldiers from the former defeated nations, who didn''t mix like water and oil despite being part of the same alliance, threw their full support behind Marquis de Sade in his name.

    Vikir nodded at the sight.

    ''It''s worth saving ....''

    Before he regressed, he had heard Major General Orca, a fierce defender in thest days of the war, mutter.

    ''Sade, if only he were alive, the Human Alliance wouldn''t have been pushed so far.''

    A demonic brain that rivaled Dantalian in military strategy and Belial in mercenary skill.

    If Marquis de Sade had been alive to fight the War of Destruction, he would have been the perfectplement to Orca''s weaknesses in specializing in defense.

    If even his lifelong nemesis, Major General Orca,mented this, he would have been a great addition.

    Vikir decided to take him out alive when he escaped from Nouvelle Vague.

    "Pushishishi- I thought the Warring States Period was over and we''d never see such a fun war again, but here we are again, and it''s so wonderful, I''ll live long to see it!"

    ''The Strong Survive,'' which was the spirit of the times throughout the Warring States Period, and the Marquis de Sade, who can be said to be the embodiment of the spirit of the strong survive, was smiling maniacally at the demon and his minions.

    "Come, brave young men, follow me!"

    Sade raised his whip, and a maniacal cheer erupted from behind him.

    The post-war generation, the resentment and sense of defeat of being from a defeated nation, prisoners and prisoners of war from all corners of the country, united under the banner of Marquis de Sade.

    kwakwang!

    The gates of Tochka opened and Marquis de Sade led his soldiers out to sweep away the poisoners.

    peo-peopeopeopeopeopeopeopeong!

    The whip, which started moving like a giant snake, cut all the poisonous people in half within a few dozen meters in front of it.

    "Pushishishi! Kill them all!"

    Sade divided the men who followed him into eight groups.

    The Eightfold Formation, which wiped out the demons of the Usher family at once, has been transformed again.

    The Life Gate(���T), the Enlightenment Gate(���T), and the Open Gate(�_�T) that kept them alive.

    The Injury Gate(���T), the Surprise Gate(�@�T), and the Rest Gate(���T) that cause serious injury.

    The Stop Gate(���T) and the Death Gate(���T), where you will surely die.

    ... But in Marquis de Sade''s maniacallyughing reimagining, there was no sign of a live path.

    Every gate is a death gate. A jar of malice with no way out.

    Marquis de Sade''s whip had driven the poisonous people thoroughly into the pit of death.

    The spearmen moving ording to the formation, the shieldmen behind them, and the archers at the rear changed their formation ording to the whip and pushed the poisonous people.

    Tudor, Piggy, Sancho, and Bianca watched from the ramparts, their jaws dropped.

    "Wow, you can use soldiers like that."

    "It seems very different from typical tactics."

    "It is. I can''t believe you can push your soldiers to such desperate lengths."

    "... Why is he more poisonous than the poisonous people?"

    Basically, a typical local war begins with a fight for cause.

    After a bitter argument, the warriors dere war, agree on a time and ce for the battle, and fight only while the sun is shining, returning to their camps at night.

    The warriors would fight one-on-one, or they would divide their armies into two wings, with offensive forces on the right and defensive forces on the left, with the victory decided by whoever could destroy the other''s left wing first.

    The ethics and unwritten rules of warfare were to take as few casualties as possible and not go to the other extreme, as captives wouldter be enved or ransomed.

    ...Of course, all of this waspletely foreign to Marquis de Sade here.

    "Kill them all! And you too die! Pushishishi! If you fight too shyly, I will cut off your head myself!"

    Sade''s maniacal mercenary style was pushing his soldiers to the edge of lethality.

    chlag- peopeopeopeopeopeopeog!

    Watching him on the front lines, wielding a single whip and ughtering poisonous army left, right, and center into hundreds of pieces of flesh, one could not help but think that even the demon himself would not fight so brutally.

    Watching Marquis de Sade in action, all of the Night Walkers learned that the old ethics of warfare must be abandoned when dealing with Leviathan, or even demons.

    The enemy is not human.

    This realization was fresh in the minds of the younger warriors.

    Marquis de Sade had thoroughly re-established the mindset, a seemingly simple but crucial element of warfare.

    " ...You''re still a crazy old man, no, you''ve be even crazier in solitary confinement."

    Looking at Marquis de Sade, Orca clicked his tongue and said.

    "I wish the old man had been killed by the poisonous people at this point, but he''s more human than demon, so it''s right to help him. Rear guard, support!"

    Orca, too, took up his club and raced out the gate.

    Soon, troops and vigntes from each of the Houses began to gather outside the gates to drive the poisonous people back.

    Pupupupupupupug!

    Countless skewers rose up from Marquis de Sade''s side.

    A red-haired woman smiles over the skewered poisonous people.

    "Old man. I like your fighting style, would you care to teach me?"

    Morg Mu Camus. She was showing great interest in Marquis de Sade''s tactics.

    ...kwakwang!

    An entire vein of gold was pulled out of the ground.

    A giant golden hand struck the poisonous people on the other side.

    "Let''s use our momentum to strike deeper!"

    Sinir. She, too, was on the other side of Camus, helping Marquis de Sade.

    And even now, ming arrows were flying everywhere, burning away the gue fog, and countless arrows and longspears were destroying the Poisonous People.

    "Pushishishi- That''s it, they''re retreating. If we chase them any further, we''ll be overrun by reinforcements, so retreat!"

    Marquis de Sade called his soldiers back with eerie timing.

    Camus retrieved the skewers with a sad look.

    Sinir also pulled her magic back with sword-like timing and retreated.

    More poisonous people arrived as reinforcements, but by then all the Allied soldiers were back inside the gates of Fortress Tochka.

    * * *

    The outpost at Leviathan was a victory for the Allied forces at Tochka, thanks to the division of forces between Major General Orca and Marquis de Sade.

    Major General Orca''s meticulous preparation and experience in countless maritime battles, coupled with Marquis de Sade''s ghastly counterattacks and retreats, resulted in a victory for the Tochka Alliance.

    ... But the real war had not yet begun.

    The siege against the poisonous people haspletely exhausted all of the priests who exuded holy power.

    It was doubtful that they would be able to hold off the Red Death tomorrow.

    The soldiers had also been moving around vigorously, consuming more water than usual.

    Tomorrow, they would indeed run out of drinking water and holy power.

    There was no way to stop the second and third wave of the poisonous people attack.

    Dolores said after taking a walk around the castle.

    "I think they''re going to try to dry us out. They''ve gotyers andyers of sieges outside the walls, and they''re going to pick a day when the sun is shining."

    At this rate, they might notst three days, let alone a week.

    Eventually, Vikir had to make a decision.

    "We''ll go to the water source and draw water."

    Leaving Tochka''s security to Major General Orca and Marquis de Sade, Vikir himself would go to the water source and build a waterway.

    Minpin marked a few X''s on his map and handed it over to Vikir.

    "This is the terrain of the water source I predicted. If you blow up the area I marked, the water will probably fill up to the moat at Tochka."

    But Chihuahua seemed uneasy that Vikir was going to such a dangerous ce.

    "There are poisonous people of the Leviathan family out there, and it would be impossible to break through their siege lines. With the way things have changed, shouldn''t we just give up on the water source...."

    "No, we can''t. We don''t know, but the average refugee can''t afford it anymore. We need to secure the water source."

    Vikir knows he has no choice now that all-out war with Leviathan has begun.

    Soon, an expedition to the water source is organized.

    With the exception of Major General Orca and Marquis de Sade, who must defend the fortress, Vikir''s supporters have gathered together.

    Morg Mu Camus.

    Dolores Lun Quovadis.

    Bourgeois Ju Sinir.

    Don Quixote La Mancha Tudor.

    Usher Poe Bianca.

    Sancho Barataria.

    Piggy.

    A group of eight people, led by Vikir Van Baskerville, organized the expedition.

    The goal: to draw water from a volcanicke on the opposite peak.

    "It would be suicide to lead an army. We can''t afford to leave the fortress unguarded, so we''ll take a small group of trusted friends to break the siege."

    Everyone nodded at Vikir''s words.

    The n is to sneak past the Leviathan''s surveince under cover of night.

    Tudor, who was wearing an explosive belt on his stomach, asked with a very nervous expression.

    "So. When are we going?"

    Everyone looks at Vikir with amon question.

    Vikir, gazing out into the night sky, replied with his usual casual demeanor.

    "Now. Right now."

 Chapter 455: Infiltration of the Water Source (4)

    <h4>Chapter 455: Infiltration of the Water Source (4)</h4>

    Viscount Giuseppe Baldini, a demon of the House of Leviathan, was a man of some importance in the battle to destroy Tochka.

    He was guarding the rear of the fortress, far back from the front line that surrounded Tochka.

    The front siegework of Tochka Fortress was so tight that there was literally no room for even a needle to pass through, but the back area, where only Tochka''s walls were visible, was rtively loose.

    Butx was only rtive, as Viscount Baldini had arge number of minions standing guard, and he himself was constantly on guard in themand center barracks.

    [... Still, it''s a good thing, for there''s no chance of the enemying this far back.]

    Even before he became a demon, Viscount Baldini was a man who sought stability and security.

    His personality hasn''t changed much since bing a demon, even though he''s gained great power.

    [If the enemy appears elsewhere, I can quickly reinforce them there. In normal times, we can be a little more rxed, but only in wartime do we need to be quick to respond.]

    And so Viscount Baldini is now enjoying a cup of tea and a biscuit, enjoying his reverie.

    Right now.

    Teng-

    The sound of the guard post door opening was heard.

    At the same time, the panicked exmations of some of the lower-ranking minions could be heard.

    [Ha, you must not enter without permission...]

    [Ugh- No way...]

    [Oh no...]

    Viscount Baldini looked up, wondering what was going on.

    He saw a woman standing there.

    Her cascading red hair and intensely glowing red eyes were the color of blood, as if they had been marinated in it.

    Above all, this overwhelming magic emanating from her, how on earth....

    He quickly checked his schedule for the day, but there were no appointments with the high-ranking demon.

    No visits from above were scheduled either.

    Viscount Baldini tensed up.

    [...Who are you?]

    In response to Viscount Baldini''s question, the red-haired woman revealed her identity and affiliation.

    [I''m ''Tzersi'', the left wingmander of the Tochka Exterminators, and I need to get past this post to the rear, so fill out a pass for me].

    Viscount Baldini racked his brain, trying to think of a high-ranking demon named Tzersi in the main camp.

    But there were no female minions of that name and rank in Leviathan that he knew of.

    ''Well, I don''t know all the people in my family. She could also be a person from the House of Usher or the House of Don Quixote.''

    House Leviathan had recently absorbed troops from House Usher and House Don Quixote, which had led to a sharp rise in their power.

    Because of this, the chain ofmand was not yet fully organized.

    So Viscount Baldini decided to continue the conversation in a gentle tone, rather than jump to conclusions.

    [If you''ll excuse me, ... I''m afraid my memory is too poor to recall who you are, but what brings you here?]

    [Do I have to tell you all that? It''s a top secret from the headquarters. Just give me your pass].

    The red-haired woman, who gave her name as Tzersi, snorted and gave orders in an arrogant tone.

    Viscount Baldini swallowed hard to keep from cringing.

    ''Judging by your arrogance, you''re a Leviathan, and I don''t need to confirm it.''

    However, Viscount Baldini was also not an easy person.

    [Pardon me, this is wartime, we will follow militaryw. Could you please show me your ID?]

    Tzersi''s brow furrowed at that.

    The magic she''d been subtly exuding earlier had now be a full-blown st.

    [...Okay. You''re going to protest, right?]

    [No, I''m just asking you to go through the procedure. Even though I''m an external figure, I''ve been to the main house a few times, and I don''t recognize you from those times. ...]

    [Hmph, Isn''t it natural that I am an illegitimate child? You idiot.]

    At the mention of illegitimate child, Viscount Baldini closed his mouth as if he was going to be sick.

    An illegitimate child from a real family would certainly be rarely seen in the public eye.

    After all, an illegitimate child is the family''s scion.

    ''I shouldn''t have brought up the subject of the real family and illegitimacy, now that I''ve stirred up the illegitimate childplex of such a high ranking figure. I''m sure I''m in trouble.''

    Just as Viscount Baldini realized that things were getting out of hand, Tzersi spoke up.

    [Okay, okay, I don''t need a pass, I''ll go back to the main camp ande back with an ID, you''re right, it''s militaryw].

    [...Yes? A, aaah. Thank you so much for your understanding].

    Viscount Baldini''s eyes narrowed as he realized that things were going to be unexpectedly easy.

    He was almost suspicious that the other party would back down so easily.

    Viscount Baldini should have been appalled, however, at Tzersi''s next words.

    [You seem to be very fond of militaryw, so I''ll give you militaryw. I will ''dare'' to go back to the main camp and get my ID. A mission so urgent that I forgot my ID will be greatly dyed by your inflexible attitude, and you will pay for it.]

    [....]

    [Oh, and before I go, I''d like to take a look at the condition of the sword and shield hanging from your waist, and I want them in front of me right now, and why is the button on your uniform top unbuttoned, and why is the knot in your bootces tied like that? I''m going to take a good look at how well you''re following the military code before I head back to base, and I''ll report back to my superiors as soon as I get back].

    Tzersi''s eyes radiated heat like hellfire.

    It was as if she would not tolerate even the smallest, most microscopic of pods.

    She turned to Viscount Baldini, who was trembling in front of her, and shouted.

    [Attention! Why do you keep sitting there while your superiors are talking! You arrogant bastard!]

    [I, I''m sorry!]

    Viscount Baldini quickly rose to his feet and saluted.

    Tzersi gritted her teeth and circled around him.

    By militaryw, everything in this room is illegal.

    His sword was lightly stained and his shield was rusted, if only slightly.

    The inside of the barracks was dusty, and the soldiers'' clothes were often unbuttoned or untied.

    [I was going to be reasonable and let it slide, but given your attitude, I can''t].

    [....]

    [Poor clothing, poor maintenance, poor hygiene in the barracks, poor soldier discipline Hey... And you''re drinking tea and biscuits in the middle of a battlefield? Apparently, they''re not rations, they''re chain''s snacks. Also, is this the time of day when you''re allowed to eat?]

    [....]

    [You''re not following any of the militaryws you like, so what''s the point?]

    [....]

    [A man like you, so strict with others and so lenient with himself, is bound to get into trouble someday].

    Tzersi reached out with a casual hand, grabbed Viscount Baldini by the hair, and yanked him back.

    ...Kwak!

    Then, in an eerie voice, she said.

    [No, I''ll have to send you to the front lines right at dawn tomorrow, and as soon as I get back to the main camp, I''ll send your proposal to...]

    At that, Viscount Baldini shouted in a voice that was almost crying.

    [A, a pass, I will write you a pass, I am guilty of death!]

    Then Tzersi shook her head.

    [It''s not necessary, I''m going back to the main camp. Your ss and unit will be assigned to the frontline suicide raiders at dawn tomorrow].

    [Front, frontline!? Suicide squad there!?]

    The assault squad was the unit that suffered the most casualties in today''s siege with Major General Orca and Marquis de Sade.

    Viscount Baldini''s face was beginning to turn as pale as a corpse.

    The normally stoic Viscount Valdini dropped to his knees and began to beg.

    [My, my, I was short of thought, I''ll give you a pass, and I''ll contact the rear and arrange for you to go with as little inconvenience as possible, please, just the assault party...!]

    The mood in the barracks hadpletely changed.

    Tzersi nodded, annoyed, but not surprised.

    [I''ve memorized your face, your name, and your unit number, in case something happens to send me back to the main camp...]

    [Well, I''ll make sure that doesn''t happen!]

    [...Hmm. I''ll count on it].

    Finished speaking, Tzersi snorted and grabbed her pass.

    She turned on her heel and left the barracks.

    Viscount Baldini, left behind in the barracks, wiped the sweat from his brow and breathed a sigh of relief.

    One of the lesser minions beside him asked with an uneasy expression.

    [Viscount, do you think it''s okay to issue me a pass without identification?]

    [Hey. Didn''t you see the magic that bitch just gave off?]

    Viscount Baldini shook his head as if he''d just been dismissed from a crane.

    [And by the looks of what she''s doing, she''s a absolute poisoner, a demon to the bone].

    * * *

    [Look at that. I told you this works, right?"

    She brought her low voice back to its original state in an instant.

    Morg Mu Camus. She''d sold her ancestor''s name long ago and pretended to be a demon.

    "The name is full of magic energy. And I am also confident in my ability to emit magic energy. Of course, it just smells."

    When she finished, Camus turned her head.

    On her shoulder was Seere, tears dripping down her cheeks from the smell.

    Whatever.

    "Well done."

    Vikir patted Camus on the shoulder.

    The first gateway to the water source was easily breached thanks to Camus''s initiative.

    With a pass from Viscount Baldini, the gates behind them were nearly free passes as well.

    After that, they passed through a few more private guard posts.

    huug-

    A gust of wind from the front hit everyone''s noses.

    The breeze carried a hot, foul odor.

    Vikir looks up and sees red spirits swarming over the horizon.

    "...The gunds. Probably a ce of poisonous people."

    "I''ll cover you from here."

    Dolores summoned thest of her holy power and gave each of them a drop of her Tear of the Saint.

    With the exception of Vikir and Camus, who were immune to almost all poisons, everyone was protected by Dolores and able to survive the Red Death.

    The group of eight then made their way over the gentle ridge to the next gateway.

    Along the way, a red mist drifted across the ground, strewn with the corpses of the poisonous people.

    Soon, through the red mist, they could see Leviathan''s second siegework.

    Seeing the shadows of barracks and wooden fences, Vikir began to calcte the distance.

    Where poisonous people are present, strategies such as disguised identity will no longer work.

    "15 minutes to infiltrate."

    From now on, it was time to force a breakthrough.

 Chapter 456: Infiltration of the Water Source (5)

    <h4>Chapter 456: Infiltration of the Water Source (5)</h4>

    The ground shakes.

    A cloud of dust rose up along with the sound of horses'' hooves.

    Late at night, it was Viscount Baldini who drove his horse to the rear guard post.

    [Where is she! Where has she gone! Find her quickly!]

    He barked orders at his men in an urgent tone.

    Viscount Baldini, still feeling bad about granting a pass to a stranger with no identification, galloped his horse in pursuit.

    But he found nothing all the way to the rear post.

    In the poisonous archives in the back, he could find no record of the high-ranking demon''s visit.

    All he could see were corpses, the byproducts of war.

    [Damn it. I hope nothing happened...]

    In the end, Viscount Baldini had no choice but to turn his horse around and head back to his post.

    ....

    Soon afterward, Viscount Baldini heard a noise in the wastnd where he had driven his horse back.

    A few shadows stirred over the wastnd where only a few corpses of poisonous people were strewn about.

    "Huu... that was the most unpleasant nket in the world."

    Tudor pushed himself to his feet, tossing aside the corpse of the poisonous people he''d been carrying.

    "My body is soaked with cold sweat, I''d be in trouble if I were caught."

    "I, I feel like my heart is the size of a pea."

    "Euhhh... It''s heavy and unpleasant"

    Beside them, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca also rose from the dead bodies of the poisonous people.

    As the pursuers closed in, the Night Walkers, all of whom had been instructed by Vikir to do so,y down on the ground, each with a few bodies on top of the others, to avoid eye contact.

    "...That was dangerous."

    Vikir pushed off the poisonous people bodies covering and stood up.

    Then three others followed him to their feet.

    The first to poke her head out from under Vikir''s armpit was Camus.

    She narrowed her eyes at Vikir''s waistband on the other side.

    "You''re usually so slow, but you''re so fast at times like this."

    "I, I what?"

    It was Dolores who poked her head up from Vikir''s side.

    This was where she''d jumped in at thest minute.

    Camus red at Dolores.

    "They say a well-behaved cat enters the kitchen first... There is nothing wrong with the old saying."

    "Well, it''s not like that, because the bodies of the poisonous people were only here, and something simr happened to me once upon a time during a drinking game in the dormitory, so I did it unknowingly...."

    "What? Dormitory? Drinking game? What happened, boyfriend?"

    "Who''s your boyfriend!?"

    Camus and Dolores red at each other in the middle of Vikir.

    A voice intervened to stop them.

    "We''re in enemy territory, so let''s be careful~ Do you really want to do that under a pile of corpses?"

    Sinir lifted her head with a meek expression.

    But her head is still stuck between Vikir''s legs.

    "Hey, why are you sticking your head out of there, you''re making this look even more innocent!"

    " ...I don''t think that''s your ce to say, Sinir."

    Camus, Dolores, and Sinir began to engage in a subtle nervous war of words over Vikir.

    "...."

    But Vikir paid no attention to their bickering, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

    Soon, through the red haze, the poisonous people became visible.

    The poisonous people inside the wooden fence stood idly by, doing nothing, or hovering around them.

    "We''re going to infiltrate the barracks now."

    "We''re going to break through the center?"

    "Yes. We could just walk right past them, but the size of the poisonous people is rming."

    Vikir nodded in response to Tudor''s question.

    "These are probably the forces that will be mobilized for tomorrow''s siege. If we can reduce them a bit, it will ease the hands of those left in the castle."

    At Vikir''s words, everyone''s expressions became determined once more.

    Now, if they could only break the siege, they could reach the water source.

    Vikir and the others scrambled to the mound of dirt that had risen upward, crouched down, and peered through the gap.

    ''Baby madam, it would have been nice if that creature had been there....''

    Vikir thought back to his days as a Night Hound.

    He would have been able to move much more freely with his partner, but s, he could not duplicate those movements now.

    Then.

    "How about digging a hole?"

    Camus stepped forward.

    Before Vikir could open his mouth in disbelief, she pulled out an object from her bosom and slipped it over her face.

    It was a picaresque mask, a mask that could turn a man into a dog.

    It was Dantalian artifact that Vikir had given to Camus before traveling to Nouvelle Vague.

    Hack-Hack-Hack

    Camus instantly transformed into a red-furred dog.

    "C-cute...."

    Dolores reached out with a twinkle in her eye, but Camus swatted it away.

    Then, as a dog, Camus began digging a burrow in the high mound of dirt.

    papapapapag-

    In no time at all, the mound of dirt was high and the underground passage equally deep.

    Camus burrowed all the way through the wooden fence and barked loudly at Vikir with her tail flicking.

    Camus''s tant gesture of petting prompted Vikir to stroke her head.

    "You''re putting the mask to good use, aren''t you?"

    "Of course."

    Camus, now back in her human form, red at Vikir.

    Soon, the eight-member death squad came inside through a tunnel under the fence.

    A dense red mist makes it difficult to see ahead.

    But they can sense the asional ck and red shadows moving about.

    Swoosh.

    The Night Hound bared its teeth.

    The heads of several poisonous people wandering around the tunnel rolled on the floor without a sound.

    Vikir nodded as he saw the poison oozing from the cut side of the neck.

    "...That''s certainly a lot of poison in there. How on earth did they produce so much poison?"

    The number of poisoners people is staggering, as is the amount of poison each one of them has stored in their bodies.

    It would take a lot of effort to create such arge number of poisonous people.

    ''They''re not that weakpared to the poisonous people I saw before the regression. They were only seen in thetter stages of the War of Destruction.''

    Vikir couldn''t help but think back to the question he''d had before the Tochka Destruction War began.

    ''How did they create all these poisonous people? Surely there must be a limit to the amount of poison that can be produced....''

    Even before Vikir''s regression, the mystery of how Leviathan had managed to produce so much poison had never been solved.

    ...But.

    Something was different in this life.

    "Brother. excuse me-"

    Sinir poked Vikir in the shoulder with a deft touch.

    Sinir''s eyes spotted the ck barracks beyond the red mist.

    Vikir strained his eyes and stared into the fog for a long moment.

    Only then did thendscape beyond slowly reveal itself.

    Tsutsutsutsutsuts...

    The sparse figures of the poisonous people peeking through the fountain-like mist were like charcoal left behind in a burned forest.

    They were lined up in a row, and one by one, they were entering the ck barracks.

    And on the other side of the barracks, the same poisonous people who had just entered wereing out, one by one, twisting into even more grotesque forms, their bodies growingrger and their limbs even longer.

    ''... Are they charging up their poison in there, and even their strength seems to be increasing?''

    Vikir turned his attention to arge poisonous man who was just entering the barracks.

    [grrrr-grrrr...]

    The poisonous man was covered in stab wounds and burn marks, possibly from the Tochka annihtion battle today.

    After entering the barracks, it disappeared for a long time, but after a few minutes it crawled out through an exit on the other side of the barracks.

    The long limbs were twisted and bent like those of an insect, and the originally hideous face was distorted into something horrifying.

    [Geeeeeeek-]

    The sword marks that had tattered its body were gone.

    As if boasting of its overflowing poison and vitality, it creaked and twisted, disappearing into the red mist.

    "Judging by the tension in my Money Hat, there must be some sort of artifact, a very strong one. I think it''s charging the poisonous people with it."

    Vikir nodded at Sinir''s words.

    Sinir was a new character, one who was not here in the original history, and what she had discovered and spected might hold the key to reversing the original fate.

    "Although we''re not far from the water source,... we''ll need to destroy some of this facility in preparation for tomorrow''s defense."

    It was necessary to put the brakes on so that Leviathan could no longer charge the Poisonous People.

    For the sake of their allies who would face them tomorrow inside Fort Tochka.

    Paralyzing the facility here was not exactly at odds with heading for the water source, so the group nodded in agreement.

    "But how do we destroy the poisonous people factory? It seems like it''s hard enough to just break through?"

    Tudor asked.

    Apparently, the ck barracks high up in the dirt mountains housed the highest ranking members of Leviathan House.

    Furthermore, the sheer number of poisonous people gathered there would mean death for anyone who trespassed.

    To think that they would even destroy a ce that seems so difficult to pass through.

    But Vikir spoke with a confident voice.

    "I have a secret weapon that I have reserved for this moment."

    And then.

    Swoosh.

    Vikir drew out what he had been hiding deep within the thick fog of blood.

    "Vikir! When did you get so big...!?"

    It was enough to make everyone in the group''s eyes widen.

 Chapter 457: Infiltration of the Water Source (6)

    <h4>Chapter 457: Infiltration of the Water Source (6)</h4>

    A ck barracks sits atop an dirt mountain.

    In the center of the barracks was a giant pot, and two giant snakes were coiling inside.

    The two snakes circled around each other, biting each other''s tails.

    Each time the snakes circled the pot, a pool of poisonous fluid would pool in the center.

    The poison is then heated by the wood fire burning beneath the pot, bringing it to a boil and releasing a thick cloud of red vapor.

    [grrrrrrr...]

    [Gyaaaaaagh-]

    [Kiiiik! Kkeueugh!]

    The poisonous people are lined up one by one inside the barracks, smoked by the red steam rising from the pot.

    udeudeug! udeug! ppagagag!

    The poisonous people, who were about to die, are instantly energized by the red vapor.

    Some were so energized that their bodies became bizarrely shaped.

    And there is one figure sitting on a throne at the top, watching all of this.

    "...."

    He wears a ck robe that covers his entire body, and arge scythe on his back.

    He is known as the Harvester to the Night Walkers.

    A mysterious person who stands at the forefront of this Tochka annihtion battle, and especially at the forefront.

    The Harvester silently watched as countless poisonous people were reborn from the red mist of death.

    Just then.

    ...kwakwang!

    Something happened.

    One side of the barracks was torn to shreds, and a strange figure broke in from outside.

    peopeopeopeog!

    As soon as he entered, he immediately cut off the heads of the poisonous people around him.

    Dozens of poisonous people were left with their heads rolling on the ground, unable to resist.

    "...!"

    Harvester jumped to his feet.

    The amount of poison, manpower, and time that went into making a single proper poisonous soldier was staggering.

    They shouldn''t have to die like this.

    The Harvester came down the stairs as if he was flying, and immediately swung his scythe and shed at the assant.

    ...kkang!

    A strange man blocks the Harvester''s scythe with a ragged iron sword that looks like he picked it up somewhere.

    For a moment, the Harvester flinched.

    He instantly recognized the intruder.

    Vikir Van Baskerville, Night Hound. The greatest viin of all time, imprisoned in Nouvelle Vague long ago.

    ..., so why would he appear here at this moment?

    Vikir''s red eyes shed at the Harvester before him.

    ttaang- kkadeudeudeudeug!

    The iron sword pushes away the scythe, creating a pile of sparks.

    The cheap iron sword lost countless of its teeth just by colliding with the scythe once, turning it into a lump.

    But Vikir continued to swing his iron sword.

    kkang! kkaang- ttang! ttaang-

    The recklessness of the attack was enough to make even the Harvester cringe.

    But this was the headquarters of the Leviathan Family, a ce with countless poisonous people.

    chachachachachag!

    The giant poisonous people reached out toward Vikir.

    Each one of them is a monster with a grip that can distort even a cast iron pot.

    Vikir swung his iron sword, which was now almost like a saw de, and cut off their limbs.

    ppudeudeug- ppudeug- ppagagag! udeug!

    Pieces of flesh and bone fragments with uneven cut edges scatter here and there in the air.

    There was even a sense of madness in Vikir''s sword shing.

    ... but in the end, he''s outnumbered.

    Even Vikir had no choice but to sumb to the onught of the poisonous people, who used the corpses of theirrades as shields.

    peoeog!

    The palm of one of the poisonous people mmed into Vikir''s face.

    peoeog! peoeog!

    Another palm on top of it.

    peoeog! peoeog! peoeog! peoeog! peoeog! peoeog...!

    Above it, More and more palms covered Vikir''s face.

    Crushed by countless poisonous hands, Vikir finally died, his entire body horribly mutted.

    The poisonous people tore Vikir''s body to shreds in a frenzy.

    And then.

    ...tug!

    Vikir''s body was reduced to its upper half, rolling across the floor like garbage.

    The Harvester looked down at Vikir''s body on the ground.

    "...."

    Then, he reached out with a pale hand and gently brushed a hand across Vikir''s empty eyes.

    ....

    Just then.

    kwadeug!

    The upper half of Vikir''s body, which had been thought to be dead, jerked up and bit down on the Harvester''s hand with his teeth.

    "!?"

    The moment the Harvester is startled and puts his hands back.

    ...kwakwang!

    The wall right behind the Harvester''s back was torn apart.

    The barracks shook once, and again, countless poisonous people died in a torrent.

    "...!"

    Harvester quickly turned his head.

    There was an unbelievable sight.

    Vikir. Vikir Van Baskerville.

    The man who had been killed by the poisonous people just moments before was alive and well.

    Flutter.

    With a fluttering sound, Vikir began to destroy the poisonous people, wielding a spear that seemed to have been picked up from nowhere.

    Precise, powerful thrusts ripped open vital organs, including the faces and chests of the poisonous people.

    Another ssh of blood and flesh rippled through the barracks.

    The Harvester hesitated for a moment, then threw himself forward to block Vikir.

    Taang-!

    A winding scythe flew out from the hilt, knocking Vikir''s spear out of his hand.

    The poisonous palms of the poisonous people followed through on Vikir''s now-empty abdomen.

    pupupupupupug!

    Once again, Vikir was in by abined assault of the Poisonous People and Scythe of the Harvester.

    ...However.

    kwakwang!

    The wall of the barracks tore open again, and beyond it, Vikir appeared.

    Vikir. Vikir. Vikir. Another Vikir.

    More Vikir appeared, tearing apart the poisonous people.

    They ravaged the barracks, and the moonlight shining through the dark clouds illuminated the interior.

    It was only then that the Harvester noticed something strange about the vikirs who tore through the curtain.

    ck hair, red eyes. But their skin color is different.

    All of the Vikir''s skin is as ck as obsidian.

    The barracks was dark, and the glow of the dark red mist rising from the center of the barracks made it hard to see.

    peopeong! kwakwakwang! ujijig!

    Each of the Vikirs was fierce and vicious, and they could manipte their weapons like limbs.

    Before their inhumanbat power, a violence that questioned whether they were even living creatures at all, the poisonous people were being torn apart like wet leaves.

    ...kwang!

    In the end, the rampage of countless Vikirs destroyed the pot in the center of the barracks.

    The two snakes inside scurried back into the corners, and the thick red mist that had been rising was cut off.

    jjeoeog- peog! deng-geong-

    The Harvester, who had been swinging his scythe to slice and dice the bodies of the Vikirs, was greatly embarrassed when he saw that the pot had been broken.

    So were the poisonous people gathered outside the barracks.

    hwaeg-

    The Harvester rushed out of the barracks and looked around, but there was no sign of Vikir''s true form.

    peopeong! kwang! kuleuleuleug!

    All he could hear was the mes raging throughout the barracks, and the noise of the ck Vikir rushing about.

    * * *

    Hours ago.

    Vikir opened Andromalius'' barrier beneath the Bloodstorm.

    What poured out from within were tiny creatures that looked exactly like Vikir.

    Doppelganger leeches.

    The leeches Vikir had taken from ck Tongue when he left Nouvelle Vague had grown.

    "Oh, my, how cute. What are they?"

    "Mmmm- definitely, they look like something I''d want to take home and raise."

    "...Brother, where did you get your children from? Isn''t it?"

    "Dude, are these really leeches? They look so much like you."

    "Even though I saw it once in Hell Treest time, I still can''t get used to it."

    "Maybe it''s because he grew up drinking Vikir''s blood, but he looks exactly like Vikir. Just put on the clothes I brought and it''ll be perfect!"

    "Wow, now that you''ve dressed him up, he looks exactly the same. That must be very confusing for the enemies...."

    Camus, Dolores, Sinir, Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca, all of them, at one point or another, admired Vikir''s look-alike miniatures.

    Except for one thing: skin color.

    "Here, eat."

    Vikir fed the leeches arge amount of blood, more than he had ever given them before.

    The leeches grow strong after drinking the blood shed by Vikir.

    Vikir then set the leeches loose in the center of the poisonous barracks.

    The leeches, viciously modified by ck Tongue, went on a mad rampage, began to run wild, attracted by the smell of blood and deathing from everywhere.

    "...Well, it was worth the effort."

    Vikir nodded as he watched a significant number of the leeches charge toward the barracks on the dirt mountain.

    "Boyfriend, ignitionplete!"

    In the distance, he could see Camus waving.

    Vikir also nodded his head and gave a signal.

    Camus understood Vikir''s signal and unleashed her mana.

    kwakwakwakwakwang!

    mes and iron skewers erupted from beneath the dirt mountain.

    The poisonous soldiers descending the slope were halted in their tracks, their feet and stomachs pierced by a session of iron skewers.

    The mes began to spread in all directions, using the barracks and the struggling poisonous people as firewood.

    ...hwaleuleug!

    Vikir turned his head to see that the mes had even reached the storehouses of rations for themon soldiers.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, Sinir, and Dolores, who had seeded in moving the fire from the front, were also signaling that their mission wasplete.

    Vikir and Camus quickly joined them.

    "We''re headed straight for the water source."

    If they could just get to the peak behind them, blow up one side of theke, and divert the water, everything would be fine.

    Not only would they have water, but they''d be able to wipe out Leviathan''s forces in one fell swoop.

    ''Perhaps this will be thest mission.''

    Vikir ran quickly towards the shadow of the ridge in front of him.

    It was the final finish line, where the fate of Tochkay.

 Chapter 458: Infiltration of the Water Source (7)

    <h4>Chapter 458: Infiltration of the Water Source (7)</h4>

    jjeoeog!

    One of the giant poisonous people opened its mouth wide.

    The gaping mouth was immediately pulled back, and it fell off its jaw and plummeted to the ground.

    ...cheolpeodeog!

    After shing at the face of the poisonous people in his way, Vikirnded lightly on the ground.

    However, there were still a few poisonous people on the slope leading up to the mountain peak in front of him.

    [Grrrrrrr-]

    [Kiik- Kiiik-]

    [Hiss- Hiss!]

    The poisonous soldiers arerger and more powerful than normal poisonous people.

    And the poisonous people here are evenrger and more grotesque than the average soldier.

    Those with three or five heads belong to the ordinary axis.

    Their long, twisted bodies were dotted with grotesque appendages that could not possibly have once been human.

    Mutants.

    An extremely rare creature that is born when a normal poisonous people crosses the line of fire time and time again, umting experience and refining their poisons.

    The poison and stench emanating from its body were causing the surrounding grass to turn ck.

    And then one of therger and more hideous of the poisonous peoples blocking the peak began to appear.

    [gaggak... gaggaggak... gaggaggak... gaggaggak!]

    Vikir recognized the creature.

    ''Hmm. That''s the one who went into the barracks earlier.''

    The one that had just crawled out of the poison charging station he''d seen in the distance.

    It was arge, powerful mutant, with no idea why it was stationed so far back.

    [geugilg- a... Beoji... Youngest... ya... gagyagyalg-]

    The mutant muttered unintelligible words through its bizarrely altered mouth structure, and Vikir quickly assessed the situation.

    ''This is going to be a pain in the ass tomorrow if he''s going to be on the siege. I''ll have to take him down beforehand.''

    The Night Hound was just about to bare his teeth at the giant poisonous mutant in front of him.

    "Vikir!"

    Tudor''s voice came from behind him.

    Vikir spun around to see Tudor with a determined look on his face.

    "You go first. We''ll take care of this ce."

    "...."

    "It''s more important to get the waterways open. We''ll do something about the poison mutants, so don''t worry...."

    "Got it."

    Tudor had barely finished speaking before Vikir was gone.

    Clearly, it would be more efficient that way.

    Tudor sighed as he watched Vikir rush off without a backward nce.

    "Boy~ At least say no."

    "Now that''s proof that Vikir trusts us as much as he does."

    "I know, and I''m kind of ttered."

    Tudor smirked at Sancho''s axe-raised back, and readjusted his spear.

    Soon, the group began to move forward, sending Vikir first and began to block the poisonous people behind him.

    "Come on, you scum, let me show you something hot!"

    Camus waved her hands, drawing arge magic circle in the air.

    Her signature octa-casting, the ability to manipte eight elemental magics simultaneously.

    Eight rains of fire and iron began to fall.

    ...peopeopeopeopeopeopeopeong!

    The iron skewers that rose up from the ground immediately pierced into the bodies of the poisonous people, melting from the heat and burning their bodies.

    "Eeh...If this happens, my gold will melt too. Well, it doesn''t matter?"

    Sinir drew up her mana and brought it to the ground.

    Then, she pulled out the entire gold vein that was sleeping under the stratum.

    ujijijijijig-

    A huge golden golem tears up the ground, crawls up to the ground, and throws a massive fist.

    The molten gold bubbled and boiled from the me magic that Camus had created, scattering the liquid in all directions, burning the poisonous people to death.

    "Everyone, take a deep breath as much as possible! Don''t go away from me!"

    Dolores cast a divine shield as wide as she could, keeping the red death spirits at bay.

    chiiiiiig-

    The blood and pus that the poisonous peoples emit as they struggle are evaporated into ordinary vapor as soon as theye in contact with the white light emitted from Dolores'' body.

    Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca are also emitting auras of their own, blocking the poisonous people''s advances.

    "Vikir, can you see anything up there?"

    Tudor shouted as he pierced a hole with his spear in the center of the poisonous people''srge palm.

    See- see- see- see-

    Tudor''s strained voice echoes through theyers of trees and cliffs.

    Vikir, who had just climbed over the peak, recognized the faint but clear sound of Tudor''s voice.

    But it was

    "...."

    Vikir had no answer to Tudor''s plea.

    No food. No water.

    No matter how hard he peered down into the crater, he could see no water.

    "...."

    Vikir took a few deep breaths and then looked carefully at the scenery below the crater.

    He could see a hillside of dry dirt rolling away from the overgrown vegetation below.

    As he followed the line of sight, he saw nothing but an empty wastnd.

    There was no sign of water in the crater, just dry dirt and hard rocks.

    Only a few dried tumbleweeds rolled around in the grass.

    Minpin''s information had been wrong.

    Vikir gritted his teeth.

    It was information he hadn''t known before the regression, and he doubted it.

    The uncertainty he''d leaned on had turned out to be a fatal hand.

    kwakwakwang!

    Vikir struck a blow, copsing part of the peak.

    But there was still no water.

    ''...this is dangerous.''

    At this point, they should change course and return to Tochka as soon as possible.

    But the rear was already surrounded by the poisonous people.

    Vikir flew down the rock face to rejoin the front.

    The chaos at the Poison Charging Station hadn''t beenpletely cleaned up yet, and the poisonous people were still spread out, but it looked like they could put out the immediate fire.

    ''After clearing out the poisonous people here, we''ll take advantage of the distraction and head for Tochka. Perhaps by moving in reverse, the siegework will be less vignt... and all that remains is to hope that the leeches will hold out as long as possible.''

    Vikir scrambled down the cliff, nning this and that.

    The moment.

    "...!"

    An unexpected event urred that made Vikir''s ns and judgments go to waste in an instant.

    "Hohohoho... I see all the troublemakers of Tochka have gathered here."

    A face with a sharp hooked nose, tightly closed lips, and a dark shadow beneath deep, sunken eyelids beneath ck hair.

    A grim-looking, middle-aged man dressed in ck priestly robes stepped through the crowd of poisonous people.

    There was not a member of the group who did not recognize his face.

    A genius who knows how tobine all the poisons and medicines in the world.

    A fearsome figure that not even Hugo of Baskerville is reluctant to deal with.

    Duke Hobbes de Leviathan.

    He is the patriarch of the extremely poisonous House Leviathan and a key yer in the current civil war in the Empire.

    Vikir has to grit his teeth when Hobbes shows up much earlier than expected.

    Meanwhile.

    "Hmm. I can see what brought you here."

    Hobbes scanned the faces of the Night Walkers once more, smiled grimly, and thrust his long spear forward.

    A spear de that looks like two long snakes entwined around a hard, dried wooden handle.

    "Go, ''Uroboros''."

    Hobbes''smand dropped.

    Hiss-

    The spear began to wriggle as if it were alive.

    Every time the spear swings, the evil spirits of the Red Death run wild and swirl around Hobbes.

    Huge, hideous, poisonous mutants were standing behind Hobbes along the red mist, spewing out terrifying killing intent.

    When Vikir saw hispanions and Hobbes facing each other across the mountainside, he elerated his steps even more.

    ''...That guy is dangerous.''

    The Second Corpses.

    During the Age of Destruction, the Demon King was never defeated in many-to-one, one-to-one, or many-to-many battles.

    The most vicious and wicked of the ten demons.

    If Vikir was a seasoned demon hunter, he was a seasoned human hunter.

    "Don''t fight him! You don''t stand a chance against him...!?"

    However, Vikir''s shouts to hispanions were short-lived.

    peo-eong!

    A thunderbolt of fire came out of nowhere and hit Hobbes.

    As soon as he appeared, Hobbes'' head turned and he was thrown backwards, spouting out blood.

    "...?"

    As Vikir''s mouth dropped open in surprise, a series of fearsome pirs of fire rained down on the pit where Hobbesy.

    wa-jijijijijig! kwakwakwakwakwakwang! ...kkwaleuleung!

    It was a thunderbolt of fire, each with huge, red-hot iron skewers built into them like pencil lead.

    "Hohohoho- I guess I''ll just have to hunt demons until Vikires. It worked, because I can start with the king."

    Camus, who had been controlling her pace up until this point, let loose her limits for the first time in a long time.

    Tsutsutsutsutsutsutsuts...

    A huge, ck tree began to grow above the red-hot mes created by Camus.

    The Wraith Tree.

    It had fully bloomed and be a mature tree, and before we knew it, it was bearing fruit.

 Chapter 459: Infiltration of the Water Source (8)

    <h4>Chapter 459: Infiltration of the Water Source (8)</h4>

    Camu has begun to show her full power.

    "I''ve been holding back a bit of my power for fear of intimidating the others...!"

    She fired her mana and the Wraith Tree began to shake its branches in response.

    The skull-shaped branches moved ominously.

    The hanging corpses swayed like clockwork.

    Each and every one of them was a vicious criminal or demon during their lifetime.

    Ooooooooooooo...

    Even in death, they were unable to fulfill their destiny and became a source of energy for Camus, squeezing them to their limits.

    They let out blood-curdling cries.

    "Let me show you something cool!"

    Camus drew dozens of magic circles in the air at once.

    Each and every one of them were powerful fire and iron magic.

    ...peopeopeopeopeong!

    A ground-to-air missile that pursues its target until the end.

    Rising from the ground, the giant iron skewers were engulfed in mes and shot up into the sky in a fiery trajectory before plummeting toward their targets.

    kwa-kwakwakwakwakwakwakwakwang!

    The earth''s axis ripped and twisted, and countless pirs of fire erupted.

    A mushroom-shaped cloud of dirt rises with a massive tremor.

    But Camus wasn''t the only one in action.

    "I''m going to show you demons the horrors of man-made capitalism."

    Sinir. A woman who became the world''s number one in ce by ascending to the position of the head of the Bourgeois family of the tycoons.

    She took off the ''Rich Hat'' she was wearing.

    Then the hat awakens and reveals its unique abilities, which have been hidden until now.

    jjalgeurang- jjalgeurang- jjalgeurang- jjalgeurang- jjalgeurang- jjalgeurang- jjalgeurang- jjalgeurang-jjalgeurang- jjalgeurang- jjalgeurang- jjalgeurang-jjalgeurang- jjalgeurang- jjalgeurang- jjalgeurang-jjalgeurang- jjalgeurang- jjalgeurang- jjalgeurang-

    A huge amount of gold coins began to pour out of the hat.

    This was the inventory ability to store an infinite quantity of money.

    "Remember this money? It''s Belial''s inheritance."

    Money is power. Wasn''t that Belial''s slogan?

    As Sinir drew on the mana amplified by her vast wealth, the gold coins that popped out of her hat clumped together and changed her appearance.

    [Uh-oooooooohh!]

    A giant golem of gold coins rose up behind Sinir''s back.

    It was asrge as a fairlyrge building and began to imitate Sinir''s body movements.

    ...kwakwang! kung! ujijijig!

    The golden golem also raised its heavy fist and began punching its target.

    It was a sight as if the fear of golden omnipotence was being expressed with the whole body.

    "Wow- they really are another ss."

    "I can''t believe they''re so motivated."

    "E, I''ll find something I can do and do it too!"

    "I guess the only way to catch up is to train like hell."

    Tudor, Piggy, Sancho, and Bianca clucked their tongues as they watched Camus and Sinir explode with destructive force in the distance.

    Dolores, meanwhile, was expanding the Holy Shield further, pushing back the poisonous people behind her.

    ''We must hold out until Vikir arrives!''

    There was hope, as Camus and Sinir were currently fighting beyond expectations.

    Watching the ground explode and tear apart in real time before their eyes, it''s almost tempting to think that maybe they can hunt demons without Vikir.

    ... But that soon proved to be too much to hope for.

    [Hohoho- the youngsters are lively these days, no time for old men to wear masks].

    A figure emerges from a thick cloud of mushrooms.

    He was no longer Hobbes de Leviathan.

    A face transformed into that of a wild beast, a ck mane, eyes burning yellow like fire brimstone, and a long spear in his hand.

    <''The Second Corpse'' uros>

    Danger Rating : S

    Size: ?

    Found in: The Serpent''s Womb, deep within the Gate of Destruction

    -Also known as ''Second Corpse''.

    One of the Ten gues, natural enemies of mankind, iprehensible and unkible.

    "I will turn the water into blood."

    �C ��Ten Commandments��10: Top �C

    Second Corpse. Among the protagonists who led the Age of Destruction.

    uros brushed the mes from his skin and said.

    [Wraith Tree, I haven''t seen one in a while, it would be perfect for the hilt of my spear].

    As he spoke, uros raised the spear in his hand.

    Two snakes, both of them alive, became the de.

    The shaft of the spear was made of dried tree trunk, and Dolores recognized the material at a nce.

    "Hell Tree!"

    [Hohoho- yes, that''s right, Amdusias''s beloved tree].

    uros grabbed his spear and swung it once, clearing away all the golden waves.

    At the tip of the demon''s spear, two snakes tangled together.

    It was the snake that created the Red Death.

    "...Is that the artifact that produces the Red Death?"

    Tudor''s eyes widened, having lost his father to the gue.

    Bang!

    mming the ground with all his might, Tudor stretched Gungnir forward.

    A tidal wave of blows washed over uros.

    uros whistled and turned his head to the side.

    [Oh- so this is the flesh Cimeries was looking for, not bad].

    Tudor''s charge had missed by a single sheet of paper.

    And the cost would not end with the weight of a piece of paper.

    Thud.

    The spear Uroboros struck the spear Gungnir, forcing it off its path.

    And through the gap, two snakes slithered in like ghosts and pressed Tudor''s neck into the ground.

    "Keoheog!?"

    Tudor spat up blood and fell to the ground.

    It happened in a single blow.

    "Tudor!"

    Bianca immediately raised her bow.

    Running forward, she fired a powerful sniper shot, aiming for Flouros''s head.

    ppeoeog-

    As soon as the dull noise of an arrow hitting the center of Flouros'' face erupts, Bianca grabbed Tudor and lifted him up.

    But Tudor''splexion was pale blue.

    "Bianca! Back!"

    "!?"

    It was a misjudgment to think that the arrow hit the target just by seeing it hit the face.

    Where Bianca turned, she saw uros grinning, biting the arrowhead with his teeth.

    [So this is the body Andrealphus wanted. Why was it so rushed...]

    Then, uros stretched out his hands and brought them to Tudor and Bianca.

    [I''ll turn you both into Corpses, in keeping with the will of myrades... Hmm!?]

    But uros was cut off mid-sentence.

    pis-

    A thin sh flew past uros'' cheek.

    [....]

    For some reason, uros, who had remained nonchnt in the face of Camus and Dolores''bined attack, took two steps backwards.

    And in front of him stood an unexpected figure.

    Piggy.

    A man who stood up for his friends even as his legs shook.

    "Get away from my friends!"

    Piggy swung his sword and emitted an aura.

    His aura had grown stronger over the course of his time at Colosseo Academy and his survival in the harsh world.

    But there was something special about Piggy''s attack.

    He had his own blood on the tip of his sword.

    [...! ...! ...!]

    uros frowned as he saw numerous small scars forming on his forearms.

    [So, it''s an heteromorphic body, It is also a closed form, This is why he was so disgusting.]

    uros''s expression, which had been rxed until now, changed.

    [I never thought I''d encounter a ''homogeneous anomaly'' ahead of my great work. Is it worthwhile to abandon the civil war ande this far?]

    Then, the demon''s fearsome eyeballs locked onto Piggy.

    "Hic!"

    Piggy shuddered, but didn''t back away.

    uros''s hand was slowly moving toward Piggy.

    Then.

    "Back off, buddy!"

    "Get out! Something is suspicious!"

    Tudor and Bianca grabbed Piggy by both arms and pulled him backwards.

    Tudor''s spear and Bianca''s snipe bounced off uros''s arm.

    Tudor and Bianca, with Piggy far behind them, said.

    "By the looks of it, he''s got his sights set on you."

    "Yeah, I''ve been sensing it since the Hell Tree. There''s definitely something about you."

    Tudor and Bianca, who were quick-witted, were protecting Piggy early on.

    "Huh? Guys �C I''m not that special...."

    "Back off!"

    A giant axe flew from behind, slicing through uros.

    Sancho hugged Tudor, Bianca, and Piggy all at once and stepped back.

    Before them, Camus and Sinir''s barrage fell.

    ...kwakwakwakwang!

    uros stretched out his spear as if it was a nuisance and blocked thebined attack of Camus and Sinir.

    [Nuisances].

    However, uros could not afford to rx.

    ...Bam!

    The power of Camus and Sinir''sbined attack had a different kind of energy.

    It was the holy white heat! It was a blessing from Dolores herself.

    Buffed by the saintess, Camus and Sinir unleashed a torrent of holy mes to burn away the Red Death.

    Only then did uros'' expression harden.

    [How annoying. Since we don''t know what will happen in the future, it is right to organize things in advance.]

    The first direction uros''s spear pointed was in the direction of Camus.

    [First, starting with the four most annoying...]

    The two snakeheads pointed at Camus exuded a level of malice that no normal human could stand.

    kwakwakwakwakwang!

    A dark red storm arises and sweeps away the surroundings.

    Fragments of aura and poison scatter like powder, tearing and burning everything around.

    "Keueug!?"

    Camus gritted her teeth as she saw the wraith tree shake violently.

    Was it because it hadn''t yet deeply rooted itself into the Mental World?

    It would need a little more time to be a giant tree.

    Patsutsut- Tsutsutsutsu-

    A shield was hastily created and deployed, but it was unable to block the entire aftermath.

    The thick coat of blood she wore began to burn and reveal her bare skin.

    Despite maximizing her mana, she was unable to fend off uros'' power, which was focused solely in her direction.

    "Camus!"

    Herpanions rushed forward, only to be blocked by the poisonous people.

    In a moment of desperation, Camus gritted her teeth.

    They had traveled all the way to the water source, but there was no water.

    In fact, from that moment on, she knew she was going to die.

    From that moment on, death was looming in the distance.

    ''...Is this the end?''

    Camus thought to herself as she swallowed hard against the rising tide of blood.

    Slowly, her strength was slipping away, her body slowly copsing.

    Just as she was about to copse.

    Flutter-

    Camus'' body, which was almost half naked, was covered with a ckyer of blood.

    "It''s a memorable one."

    And a single ck knight stood in her way.

    "...aah."

    Camus let out a weak groan.

    Even as her vision blurred, she could somehow see the man''s face clearly.

    Vikir. Night Hound.

    He was facing uros.

 Chapter 460: Infiltration of the Water Source (9)

    <h4>Chapter 460: Infiltration of the Water Source (9)</h4>

    [Oh- the demon hunter from back then, s this the first time since the trial in Nakajaniye?]

    "...."

    Vikir did not answer uros''s question.

    Talking to demons was an energy drain in itself, and he didn''t feel it was worth the effort.

    So Vikir decided to just give a short pep talk.

    "Die."

    The magic sword Beelzebub emitted a crimson aura.

    ...sh!

    There was no guarantee of a one-hit kill anyway, so Vikir chose the most confident of the options, 4th Form.

    A four-toothed sh.

    His strongest attack in his previous life and his mostfortable attack in this life.

    Not only does it cost almost no mana, but it''s more skillful than breathing.

    Vikir''s sword attack perfectly grasped in all four directions, biting through the space of uros.

    But uros''s skill with the spear was just as impressive.

    ''Original Uroboros''. A deadly weapon, a terrifying artifact that creates red death.

    uros smirked.

    [Seven Demon Sword... Is that Beelzebub? However, there are many other weapons made from the remains of ancient demon constetions. At that time, there were more than one demon constetion. And my spear is one of them].

    Are these the remains of demons who lived in some distant past?

    The two weapons containing poison were shing fiercely, creating countless sparks.

    kwakwang!

    The Red Evil Spirit and the Dark Sun shed.

    Before he knew it, Vikir was using his full power against Flouros.

    "Tsk-"

    Vikir stepped back, spitting blood that had turned red from the gue poison.

    Madame''s poison was rapidly circting in his body.

    It bubbled through his veins, churning through his body as it ate up any gue poison that came in from outside his body.

    It had been a long time since it had reacted so violently, perhaps recognizing the Red Death as an unwee rival.

    ... Pakang!

    The Original Uroboros mmed down on Beelzebub with the tip of its two des.

    At the same time, the hilt made from the sack of the Hell Tree struck Vikir''s head.

    "...!"

    Vikir, who tilted his head back to avoid it, had a scar on his forehead.

    It was a vicious wound that would not easily regenerate, even with Basilisk''s regenerative powers.

    [A sack carved from the shards of the Hell Tree. When Amdusias was killed, I also obtained some fragments.]

    uros smiled wickedly, his eyes still full of amusement.

    Then.

    "Vikir!"

    "Vikir-nim!"

    "Brother!"

    Red, white, and gold. Three shimmering lights emanated from the sides and behind Vikir.

    Camus, Dolores, and Sinir were supporting Vikir.

    Camus''s fire, Dolores''s holy power, and Sinir''s magic and money were now directed at uros in front of him.

    wagigigigig- ujijig!

    The sound of powerful intangible forces shing and twisting against each other.

    The ground shifts, breaks, and reconnects, naturally changing thendscape around them.

    Even in the midst of his struggle, uros looked at Vikir and hispanions and spoke in wonder.

    [You guys fight really hard for others. There will be no benefit to you personally in confronting me...]

    Fighting together, a sight that would certainly be iprehensible to a demon.

    A demon is basically a being who engages in ''the struggle of all against all''.

    In the first ce, demons are a concept defined by humans, so they are not grouped into a single species.

    For example, 3rd Corpse Andrealphus and 4th Corpse Cimeries are as far apart as a goldfish and a grasshopper in terms of biological characteristics.

    Vikir knew this, and could somewhat understand uros''s puzzlement.

    "You might not be able to sympathize with beings who don''t know how to do anything other than fight and steal."

    [Isn''t that the same for you too? In the first ce, humans are a deteriorated version of demons. The part you upy in this worldview could be better performed by demons.]

    uros smirked, but continued to thrust his spear.

    Apart from the swinging spear, the demon''s tongue also continued to wriggle like a snake.

    [My poisonous soldiers have probably begun the siege by now, and I''m very curious to see how long your friends in Tochka will hold out].

    "...!"

    Vikir gritted his teeth.

    House Leviathan''s poisonous soldiers had finally begun the siege of Tochka.

    It was unclear how long they would be able to hold off such a powerful army of mutants.

    They are fortunate to have Major General Orca and Marquis de Sade on their side, but in the face of overwhelming numerical superiority, they are helpless.

    [There is no hope for you. No water has been found, and you cannot protect yourrades. I can''t wait to see the look on your faces when you see that all the humans in Tochka have been turned into poisonous people.]

    The faces of the entire group fell as they heard uros'' words.

    But there was nothing to argue with.

    So Camus, Dolores, Sinir, Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca all just stared at him in disbelief.

    Except for ...Vikir.

    "You underestimate the power of humans."

    uros narrowed his eyes in surprise at Vikir''s words.

    [Is this the kind of situation that can be solved by force?]

    "That is unknown."

    [I see, hahaha- you seemed to have the most realistic personality, didn''t you?]

    "That''s why I say that."

    [...?]

    With that, Vikir drew Beelzebub out even longer.

    8th Form. The ck sun spun even more fiercely, crushing uros.

    Soon, the distance between Vikir and uros has narrowed to the point where their noses are touching.

    udeudeug- udeug!

    At the forefront where energy shed with energy, Vikir whispered into uros'' ear.

    "It is not wise to predict the future, for it changes just as quickly as you predict it."

    [....]

    "Just like right now."

    [...?]

    uros just shook his head.

    ...peoeog!

    His vision shes ck for a moment.

    uros jerks his head back with a jolt that feels like his throat is being ripped out.

    An iron arrow the size of a child''s forearm was stuck in his temple and was trembling.

    An arrow much stronger than the one fired by Bianca.

    How tough does the bowstring have to be to send off such arge and thick arrow like that?

    And how strong does one''s arm have to be to pull such a string?

    Even uros had experienced such a powerful arrow before.

    A memory of how everything almost went to waste with just one carelessness.

    A night when he had truly feared for his life.

    [...No way!?]

    uros turns his head in horror.

    Pfft.

    Another arrow flew by, this time lodging itself in the center of uros'' forehead.

    [Keug!?]

    uros backs away, spraying ck blood.

    And a thin shadow flutters over the cliff behind it.

    "Long time no see, Husby."

    The female warrior turns to Vikir and offers a brief greeting.

    Seeing her face, Vikir can''t help but breathe a sigh of relief in many ways.

    Aiyen. A female warrior of Bk. A colleague who was imprisoned at Level Ten in the Nouvelle Vague has appeared again.

    Aiyen smirked at Vikir, then greeted the Night Walkers behind them.

    "Some I''ve seen, some I haven''t. Anyway, please take care of me."

    "That! Where can you pretend to be friends!?"

    Camus exims through gritted teeth, and Aiyen''s eyes narrow.

    "Why? Do you want to be stripped off again?"

    "Kyaaaaaah! You''re behind!"

    Camus''s hostility was even stronger than when she was fighting the demon.

    But their confrontation was interrupted by another figure.

    [Hohohoho- If it''s Uroboros, you have the same name as me, isn''t that stealing?]

    A thick whip flew out and struck uros across the torso.

    Sady. The professor who rode all the way to Nouvelle Vague to save her grandfather, Marquis de Sade.

    She activated Belial''s eyeballs and turned into a demonized version of herself, blocking uros'' path.

    ...cheolsseog!

    The whip swung like a snake, slicing through the poisonous people in the area.

    Aiyen was also sending arrows and punching holes in uros'' body.

    "I caught almost everything before, but then lost him. But not this time."

    Aiyen, who is a native of Bk''s hunting grounds, had once tried unsessfully to sneak into Leviathan alone and assassinate the patriarch, Hobbes.

    It is a matter of shame for Bk''s hunters to pursue the same prey twice.

    So it''s no wonder that Aiyen is so eager to make amends.

    ...peong!

    uros dodged the spur arrows with an annoyed expression.

    uros forcibly pulled out the two arrows lodged in his head and growled, showing his fangs like those of a leopard.

    [Fate does not change just because two misceneous things increase.]

    Just then.

    "Two?"

    One more voice whispered in uros''s ear.

    [...!?]

    When had he been caught from behind?

    Without even realizing it, they were right behind him.

    Through the gap that Aiyen and Sady had created.

    ...cheolsseog!

    Arge leech clung to uros''s back.

    The Magic Sword Asmodeus.

    A terrifying weapon that sucks the blood of its victims.

    It was sucking the life force out of uros''s body in a single gulp.

    [Keuhag!?]

    For the first time, a bloody scream came out of uros'' mouth.

    "...."

    Vikir''s eyes narrowed as he recognized the face of the figure holding uros tightly behind him.

    A body connected to the Magic Sword Asmodeus, ck veins covering the entire body, and a ck aura fluttering fiercely over the shoulders.

    ck Tongue.

    An old acquaintance from Nouvelle Vague, whom he had thought he would never see again, red at him.

 Chapter 461: Infiltration of the Water Source (10)

    <h4>Chapter 461: Infiltration of the Water Source (10)</h4>

    A world where red evil spirits run rampant.

    The Saint''s Tears, stored deep within Tochka Fortress, were drying up.

    The holy water that the priests, led by Dolores, have been sprinkling all over the walls is running out, and so are the poisonous people''s attacks.

    The walls, once so high, were now much lower.

    The ground had been raised by the many corpses of the poisonous people that had fallen from above.

    The siege began at dawn and continued until nightfall.

    ...kwakwang!

    A ck palm rose above the castle wall.

    The palm,rger than the average soldier''s body, was rotting with poison.

    [Geu-oooooh!]

    A mutant, whosebat strength easily surpassed that of a poisonousmon soldier, emerged over the castle walls.

    It had been bathed in oil, me, gunpowder, and nails during its climb up the wall, and its appearance was even more hideous than when it first reached the base of the wall.

    "Aaaahhh!"

    "Poisonous people! No, it''s a monster!"

    "Stop it, stop it! If that thing gets inside the castle...!"

    The soldiers brought out their clubs and long spears and tried to push the mutant back, but it was like pushing a boulder with a toothpick.

    The heavily built creature was not being pushed back at all.

    [Ku-rrrrrrrrr...]

    Then, the mutant pulled itself fully up onto the walls.

    The first poisonous man to sessfully climb the walls of Tochka was born.

    The creature stood nearly six meters tall, its tongue dangling from its missing lower jaw as it stalked its prey.

    Eventually, the Mutant spots a boy soldier who is toote to escape.

    [Ooooooh!]

    The Mutant raised its giant palm.

    "Aaa... Ahhhh...."

    The boy soldier tripped over a stone beak on the ground and could only cry out, not even daring to anticipate the weight of death falling upon him.

    And then.

    jjeoeog-

    A hideous mouth gaped open.

    A mouth that has everything you would expect, with protruding gums, sharp teeth, and a tongue that dangles from one side.

    The problem is that it is stuck all over the body, not where it should be.

    The mouth attached to the center of the mutant''s palm pointed at the soldier on the ground.

    "No!"

    Several soldiers rushed to the boy''s aid, but it was toote.

    ...just then.

    Boom!

    A terrifying sound erupted.

    It felt as if something huge and fast had swept past in a blink of an eye.

    "...?"

    When the boy soldier regained his senses, the monster was no longer in front of him.

    Because it was flying like a piece of trash into the sky in the distance.

    ...Boom!

    The flying poisonous man disappeared into the sky, and soon copsed into a blood clot on the ground.

    And in front of the boy soldier stood a tall, old man looking down at him.

    Warden Orca. The Overlord of the Nouvelle Vague prison guards.

    He stood guard on the ramparts, arge club in his hand.

    "Hold your ground, boy soldier."

    With that, Orca walked up the ramparts, his club in ce.

    His demeanor was casual, as if nothing had happened.

    "...Yes!"

    The boy soldier saluted as if he''d been crying all day.

    His eyes shone, rekindling the hope that had been dying fromck of sleep and water.

    Soon, energized by Orca''s appearance, the soldiers began to push back the poisonous people again.

    They scavenged for oil and lit the fire with gunpowder scraped from the floor.

    If they couldn''t find a piece of iron, they''d pick up a rock and throw it.

    Orca barked out instructions in a gruff voice.

    "Each of you report to the Chancellor on the state of the castle tower, and abandon the broken parts of the outer castle; we can stop it from the inner castle!"

    "Tell all the vigntes in charge of security within the castle toe up, the situation within the castle is pointless now!"

    "Focus your arrows on the poisonous soldier, and don''t let them take down the lower part of the walls!"

    "For the stokers of the cannons, pour in the oil and gunpowder without sparing anything! Just hold out until the next drum beats!"

    His gaze reached every corner of the defenses.

    He would closely examine in real time what was crumbling and what was holding, and then send in reinforcements.

    Of course, he didn''t just give orders.

    He was at the front of the line, swinging clubs to crack the skulls of the poisonous people.

    Neither long, sharp spears nor thick, fast arrows could prate Orca''s unseasonably thick coat of fur.

    ...Charararak!

    As the club wrapped around the chain flew through the air, and all the mutants hanging from the ramparts fell with their skulls cracked open.

    "Oooh, Major General Orca, the god of defensive warfare!"

    "Master of water warfare!"

    "As long as Orca-nim is here, Tochka will not fall!"

    The soldiers'' morale was high.

    However. Many have seen the back of a hero, but few have seen the front.

    No one could truly see the expression on Orca''s face as he stood on the front lines.

    ''...This is a difficult situation.''

    Orca''s brow was currently furrowed.

    No one could see the cold sweat running down his temples and spine, hidden by his tight gray hair, beard, and thick fur coat.

    Orca gazed at the horizon below the ramparts.

    It was all ck.

    The sky was filled with red death spirits, and there was no end to the number of poisonous peopleing.

    "No wonder we have a civil war."

    The House of Leviathan was indeed powerful enough to overwhelm thebined forces of all the other Houses.

    Moreover, each and every one of the poisonous peopleing from now on were mutants of great size and power.

    No matter how invincible Tochka''s fortress may be, it is ultimately overwhelmed.

    Even Orca, a master of defensive warfare, could not ovee such a numerical disadvantage.

    Especially in a ce like this, where ragtag vigntes recruited from the refugee poption make up the overwhelming majority of the army.

    "This is regrettable. If only my soldiers in Nouvelle Vague had been there...."

    Orca fumbled with his other hand, the one holding the bloodied club.

    He searched for a cigarette.

    However, the cigarette had long since been burned off, with the insides turning ck.

    Orca cleared his throat, which was parched fromck of water.

    It was his habit when he ran out of tobo.

    Just then.

    Chuck.

    A cigarette pack was held out from Orca''s right side.

    It was filled with his favorite thick cigars.

    "...?"

    Orca instinctively pulled out a cigarette.

    And then.

    Chick-.

    A matchstick flicked out from Orca''s left side, lighting the end of his cigarette.

    "...?"

    Orca is just about to turn his head to the side.

    [geu-oooooh!!]

    Two giant poisonous mutants leap toward Orca.

    And.

    kwa-kwakwakwakwang!

    In the blink of an eye, the two mutants are torn to shreds.

    One shredded by the swirling storm of charges, the other impaled by the countless spikes protruding from the ground and ramparts.

    Then, beneath a shower of falling flesh and blood, two shadows rose from the dust.

    "So."

    "Who will be the next head of the prison?"

    Two figures, a man and a woman, stood in front of Orca and asked the question.

    Both faces were familiar to Orca.

    "D''Ordume. Souare. How did you guys get here...?"

    Major General Orca looked a little taken aback.

    Then a squeaky voice came from behind him.

    "You can''t see me because I''m small? I was a little taller."

    Orca''s gaze turned to see a girl in a ck helmet.

    BDISSEM.

    She reached out and swung a bunch of BDISSEM restraints.

    peopeopeopeopeog!

    The poisonous people climbing the castle are instantly reduced to powerless, mana-less fools, and falling down the walls.

    Out of the water, the effect was less effective, but it was enough to halt the poisonous people''s general assault.

    "...Huh."

    Orca seemed surprised to see the Nouvelle Vague''s wardens here.

    And then. Something happened that surprised him even more.

    kkuleuleuleuleug-tsutsutsutsu...

    A rust-colored glow that started on one side of his vision and slowly colored the entire area.

    It looks like moss is growing all over the castle walls.

    It sprouted from between the bricks that made up the walls of Tochka Fortress, from the gaps between brick and brick, and soon covered the entirety of the vast wall.

    [...oook?]

    [...Grrrr?]

    [...Kiik-sshhh?]

    The poisonous mutants climbing the walls, sticking their fingers between brick and brick, were bewildered by the greenish liquid that filled every gap they could find.

    It was slippery and squishy and... intensely hot!

    Chiiiig!

    The terrifying acidic green liquid soon began to cover all the poisonous people climbing the walls.

    [Kaaaaaaaaaagh!]

    The poisonous people scrambled to escape the melting skin, flesh, and bone, but it was toote.

    jjeobjjeobjjeobjjeob-

    The liquid that oozed from between the cracks in the stones of the wall moved as if it were alive, engulfing the poisonous people and growing in volume as it did so.

    "Has it evene...."

    Orca muttered to himself as he watched the green ooze slide down the ramparts, devouring all of the poisonous people.

    Flubber J Tarbond.

    Even the prehistoric creatures of unknown race that had inhabited the Nouvelle Vague since before it was discovered had made its appearance here.

 Chapter 462: Infiltration of the Water Source (11)

    <h4>Chapter 462: Infiltration of the Water Source (11)</h4>

    The whirlpool of shes roars like a giant serpent, wiping out the poisonous people.

    D''Ordume spins the axe des that have sprouted from his forearms, shredding the poisonous people beneath the ramparts.

    Souare was no slouch in her dwarven power either.

    Earthen spears protruded from beneath the ramparts, skewering the charging poisonous people in an instant.

    The twin walls towing the Nouvelle Vague were equally effective in the deep sea as they were onnd.

    With only two more joining the front line, the poisonous force slowed slightly.

    Orca asked, feeling his strength returning a little.

    "How did you guys know toe here?"

    "I''ll exin that when we''re done with the immediate situation."

    D''Ordume replied as he crushed the head of one of the poisonous people.

    Apparently, he had been through a lot.

    Orca nodded for now.

    The urgency now was to stop the poisonous people from trying to ovee Tochka''s walls.

    The situation was gradually improving.

    cheolpudeog! cheolpudeog! cheolpudeog! cheolpudeog!

    A giant greenish liquid bubbled up and slid down the walls of Tochka.

    The green liquid flowed down the slightly sloping walls, which were designed to protect against artillery fire, and then began to engulf all of the poisonous people climbing the walls.

    Flubber. The most mysterious creature in Nouvelle Vague had made its appearance here.

    jjeobjjeobjjeobjjeobjjeobjjeobjjeob-

    Covering an enormous area, the green, liquid monster began to fatten itself by devouring all the poisonous people it could find.

    Those swallowed into its body struggle desperately, only to fall deeper and deeper into its bottomless slime prison.

    pusisisisisig-

    Orca clucked his tongue at Flubber''s insatiable appetite, which consumed even the mutants.

    "How did that thing get here?"

    This time Souare answered.

    "It must have followed us when it ran out of ces to live, for it was a prehistoric creature that was quite attached to the ce called Nouvelle Vague."

    "Followed us? Voluntarily? Did it have any sense of loyalty?"

    "No, I think it just followed the scent of its prey. It had once consumed a certain poison in prisoner called Sakkuth, and it must have liked it quite a bit."

    Souare was right.

    Indeed, Flubber had been feasting on Leviathan''s poisons, and apparently the very idea of red death was quite appealing to Flubber''s pte.

    And since they had been bred to be even more potent than they smelled, perhaps their vor would be even more intense.

    "...I''m d to see you like the taste."

    Orca couldn''t help but say this with sincerity.

    He had to admit, the poisonous mutants that had been guing Tochka so relentlessly seemed to Flubber to be nothing more than a big lump of candy.

    But there was more.

    "Warden Orca, give me orders!"

    "I don''t want to follow those wardens!"

    "Khahaha! You''re the only one who can boss me around!"

    Behind D''Ordume, Souare, BDISSEM, and Flubber, countless other figures appeared.

    All of them wore the uniforms of Nouvelle Vague''s guards.

    The guards of the Nouvelle Vague.

    An elite group of all-stars who spent their days in the harsh environment 10,000 meters below the surface of the sea, working more like service than work.

    Here they were, the men whose humanity was unknown, but whose skill was untouchable.

    A grin appeared on Director Orca''s dull face.

    Then he blew a puff of smoke from his cigarette and shouted.

    "Now! It''s a suppression formation! Give those foolish dead men their due!"

    The prisoner must be returned to where he belongs. The same goes for the dead.

    The guards of Nouvelle Vague chuckled and crossed their arms.

    Then the guards began to take control of the front lines, leaving the vigntes who had volunteered among Tochka''s refugees behind.

    "Oi- oi- those who can''t use mana, stay back."

    "What, you''re joining the war with your kid? You''re out of your mind. Get back!"

    "This is for people like us, who have nothing to lose!"

    These were people who had spent their lives preventing and quelling riots.

    The poisonous people'' disy began to copse in the blink of an eye.

    As the old guard joined the front lines, Orca''s skills as a master of water warfare were truly shining through.

    "From now on, all positions above the rank of Captain will be filled by Nouvelle Vague! I''m reorganizing the system in real time! You stokers, get off your ass! Continue beating the drums as before, but double the time interval! Push out all the stones in the women''s room!"

    Lieutenant Colonel Bastille, who always made sure everything was in ce before Orca told him to do anything, took charge this time.

    "The stokers are to go down to the castle and procure oil and gunpowder; the drums are to be beaten longer, for the guards can hold out much longer than the vigntes; the reason we are rolling the stones down is to start an all-out war, so everyone throw away your spears and long spears and arm yourself with your favorite weapons!"

    The guards of the Nouvelle Vague who take care of themselves so that Orca does not have to give detailed exnations.

    The rest of the guards are pushed to the front lines to wipe out the poisonous people.

    peopeopeopeog!

    BDISSEM has subdued all of the poisonous people around her, tossing them behind her.

    With their strength and mana sealed away, the poisonous people are reduced to fools and impaled by the vigntes'' long spears.

    Flubber continues to grow in size, devouring more and more poisonous people.

    D''Ordume and Souare also sweep through the poisonous people at breakneck speed.

    Suddenly, Orca turns to BDISSEM beside him.

    "But. Flubber Was that guy originally that small? Wasn''t it bigger before?"

    "It''s split up now. The main body is somewhere else."

    "...Else where?"

    BDISSEM opened her mouth to reply, but the sound was muffled by the poisonous mutant screaming loudly from above.

    Orca asked once more.

    "Wait. If you''re all gathered here, does that mean... ''he'' is alive too?"

    BDISSEM immediately understood who Orca was referring to.

    "If it''s ''ck Tongue,'' he never made it out of Nouvelle Vague and died."

    "...I see."

    Orca clicked his tongue for a moment, then spoke.

    "It had to be done. We''re better off without that rebellious behavior. It only divides our allies."

    "Well, it''s not quite gone, though."

    "...?"

    The unintelligible words from earlier kepting.

    So is ck Tongue dead or alive?

    Just when Orca thinks he''s about to get a proper answer.

    ...Boom!

    The walls copsed in front of him, revealing a giant poisonous mutant.

    It wasrger than any Mutant he had ever seen before.

    Its grotesque appearance was like two or three mutants mashed together into one body,

    Intimidating just standing there, sorge that even Flubber couldn''t swallow it in one bite.

    [O-ooooooh...]

    It opened its mouth and attempted to sweep away the guards on the ramparts with a single blow.

    "...tck."

    Orca was just about to raise his club to strike back.

    jjeoeog-

    There was a twist before that.

    The poisonous mutant''s head caved in, and a ck thunderbolt rained down from above.

    A whip. A long, thick weapon.

    Like a spear falling from the sky, it dented the poisonous mutant''s skull, sending its massive form sprawling and tumbling down the city walls.

    kwakwakwang!

    A heavy vibration rises from beneath the walls.

    Orca''s frown deepened as he looked at the cloud of dust rising.

    It was the sound ofughter that made his ears perk up.

    "Pushishishi-"

    Across the walls. An old man stood like a ghost on the uneven surface of the ramparts.

    Marquis de Sade.

    He was still looking at Orca with a look of amusement.

    Orca growled.

    "I thought you''d thrown me out long ago. Where have you been hiding, and now you''re popping out?"

    "Out? Why would I? This was just getting interesting."

    "...?"

    Orca raised an eyebrow.

    It wasn''t long before he realized what was amusing Sade so much.

    Suddenly, countless shadows began to fall to his side and behind him.

    That''s right.

    The guards weren''t the only ones fleeing from Nouvelle Vague.

    "Kukukuku �C it''s always fun to follow Marquis de Sade around."

    "To fight under him again, it will be an eternal honor."

    "I can''t wait to get on the rampage."

    "Ah- old times!"

    Prisoners of Nouvelle Vague, now escapees.

    Now that there are no cells to imprison them, no guards to keep them, they have gathered under the name of their former master, or former superior, Marquis de Sade.

    Each and every one of them had been involved in the 47 Man Riot in the past.

    Those who had escaped exile or extermination, but had been drunk on Marquis de Sade''s turbulence and followed him, remained secretive.

    There were also a great many who had envied Marquis de Sade''s power and notoriety in prison and sought to join him.

    The monsters of Level Nine bared their teeth after Marquis de Sade.

    The descendants of the defeated nations, who had been holding their tongues for so long, united to vent their frustrations.

    Sade chuckled and turned to Orca.

    "Honestly, what kind of war do you want to fight with a bunch of little chick from the academy or refugees? You''ve got to be a little more than this tomand."

    "...It''s absurd that I''m thinking the same thing as you at this moment."

    Orca spit out the cigarette, lit a new one, and turned away from Sade.

    But it was an unspoken message. Orca would defend the castle, and Sade would counterattack.

    Whether Sade got the message or not, he just chuckled.

    Then Marquis de Sade raised his whip high and shouted to the prisoners.

    "Here we go! Counterattack! Let''s wipe out the foolish enemy, or better yet, drive them right back to the water source!"

    Most of the poisonous people panicked while wearing BDISSEM handcuffs.

    The people who know best in the world how terrifying those restraints are are the guards and prisoners gathered here now.

    Their eyes widened in unison and they clenched their weapons.

    The heat was so intense it could burst at any moment, and Marquis de Sade poured oil on it.

    "Aren''t you all thirsty! Let''s go get some water!"

    The guards, prisoners, and refugees were all thirsty for the scarce drinking water.

    A fire burned in their eyes as hot as their throats.

    Now it was time to counterattack.

 Chapter 463: The Prelude to a Counterattack (1)

    <h4>Chapter 463: The Prelude to a Counterattack (1)</h4>

    This is the first time uros has been hit.

    ck Tongue. Considered the most dangerous man in Nouvelle Vague, he was the one who stabbed uros in the back.

    ...However.

    ck Tongue''s appearance was quite different from the one Vikir remembered.

    For one thing, it was much shorter and more petite.

    His eyes, which had been clouded with vor, now glowed with a straightforward firearm.

    The ck veins that covered his body like armor were the same as before, but the form was unmistakably female.

    Kirko. Captain Kirko Grimm was standing there, staring at Vikir.

    ...peoeog!

    Then, the magic sword Asmodeus was pulled out of uros''s back.

    The entire hilt of the sword was greatly expanded from the amount of blood it had already absorbed.

    [What kind of nonsense...!?]

    The moment an enraged uros turns his head with red death in his mouth, a green substance is seen covering his vision.

    cheolpeog!

    Not only does the poison spew out from uros'' mouth, but it is also a liquid monster thatpletely covers the entire body.

    The dense body of Flubber stretched out from Kirko''s back and engulfed uros.

    Tsutsutsutsutsuts...

    The red death spirit that uros was emitting was absorbed by the Flubber.

    Seeing this, Vikir opened his mouth.

    "...you."

    Kirko. She had surely seen thest of the Nouvelle Vague.

    But now she was here, on the ground, in front of Vikir''s eyes.

    With BDISSEM chains, Asmodeus the Magic Sword, and even Flubber!

    Then, Kirko''s lips moved in a small smile.

    "...It was you, wasn''t it? You saved my life."

    "...."

    Vikir didn''t exactly deny it.

    He had done one thing to save Kirko''s life just before they escaped Nouvelle Vague.

    It was something he had arranged during the elimination of BDISSEM just before the escape.

    ''Please let me live... I''ll do anything.''

    ''Normally, it''s faster to just kill you.''

    ''Hic!''

    ''...But there''s one more thing I want. If you do it right, I might have a way to save your life.''

    ''What, what is it? What is that?''

    ''I want two things. First, the original purpose. And the second...''

    Vikir, who had used BDISSEM to orchestrate a massive prison break, hadst seen to Kirko''s safety.

    ''If you wait outside the window of the fifth floor kennel, a person wille out. You must bring that person back to the ground alive. This person''s name is Kirko Grimm, rank is Captain, and gender is female.''

    This is because, If she survived, she could make a great contribution to the Human Alliance in the future.

    And Vikir''s actions would eventually lead to Kirko''s current cement on the surface.

    Someone who, ording to fate, should have been dead by this point.

    "...Why did you be ''ck Tongue''?"

    Vikir asked, and Kirko gave a very brief exnation.

    "When the Nouvelle Vague copsed and I was being swept away by the sea, I heard a voice calling to me."

    It was the shard of a sword that was on its way to sinking into the depths of the sea.

    It was the voice of Asmodeus, broken into nine pieces.

    Faintly but clearly audible, the sword''s call was of an indescribable nature.

    Asmodeus. A sword that, along with Beelzebub, belongs to the Seven Demon Swords.

    It was broken into nine pieces by Vikir and sunk to the depths of the ocean.

    As it should have been, no one should have found it for all eternity.

    ... But the sword spoke up and found a new owner.

    What it wanted was clear.

    It wanted blood, and to get it, it needed a symbiotic host.

    Kirko, who was destined to die from being crushed by the heavy water pressure in the cold sea water, unconsciously epted the sword''s offer.

    And fate took a turn for the worse.

    Chosen by the sword, Kirko was given the superhuman body of a vampire, just as ck Tongue had once been.

    A body that could withstand the terrible pressure of the deep. The mobility to move even after holding her breath for days.

    At that time, she was rescued by BDISSEM and brought to the surface, along with several other guards who were also being swept away by the tide.

    It''s no surprise that most of the guards saved by Kirko bowed before her power.

    Kirko nced back at Flubber, who was crawling up her shoulder.

    "I rescued this one along there, too. I think it''s because it has a strong attachment to the ce called Nouvelle Vague."

    For some reason, Flubber hadn''t left Nouvelle Vague until now.

    Its strong attachment and obsession with the ce is documented in ancient texts.

    Kirko''s decision to stay and share herst moments with Nouvelle Vague despite its copse must have impressed the liquid creature greatly.

    As a result, Flubber stays by Kirko''s side, acting very friendly.

    As for Kirko, its body''s acidic ability is not particrly evident, so it appears that she can control it.

    Vikir looked at Kirko and thought for a moment.

    ''So much talent, so much potential, and so much luck to sweep all the odds in your favor.''

    Maybe he had rescued an absurd butterfly from under the wheel of fate.

    And the butterfly effect was a wonderful one.

    kwakwang!

    Kirko, who can wield the power of the BDISSEM chain, the magic sword Asmodeus, and Flubber at the same time, is truly Nouvelle Vague itself.

    She blocked uros, who was spouting red death, very easily.

    While Flouros, wrapped in the BDISEM chain, panicked at the sudden interruption of his mana flow, Flubber ate the red death, and Asmodeus slipped through the gap.

    peoeog!

    Asmodeus once again sucked blood into uros mouth.

    [Ugh!? Where do these thingse from...!?]

    The Nouvelle Vague''s extraordinary powers, hidden at the farthest reaches of the depths, were foreign even to uros, who had carefully studied all aspects of the human world.

    kwakwakwakwang!

    Kirko''s attack was cut short as uros swung his Original Uroboros.

    But it was enough to buy time.

    Kirko stepped back and said.

    "Since then, I''ve met Aiyen and traveled here with her, and I''ve heard a bit about you."

    "I gave her a lot of advice, since she seemed to be quite confused about her identity, that the surface is a good ce to live. Hmm- even if it''s like this, I''m a woman with quite a warm heart, Husby."

    Aiyen said, jumping down beside Kirko.

    The Bk''s attitude toward nature must have been a great lesson to Kirko, who was new to the surface.

    "I searched for you as soon as I came to the surface. You forced me to live when I didn''t want to, so you''re to me."

    Kirko stared at Vikir, her gaze unwavering and proud.

    Then, there were hands on Vikir''s shoulders.

    "... You need to talk to me privatelyter, boyfriend."

    "I''m a little bit curious about the responsibility... It''s a responsibility."

    "Bro, brother, who''s that uniform girl, and where did you get into trouble?"

    Camus, Dolores, and Sinir surrounded Vikir, giving off an odd aura.

    At that moment.

    [Hohoho- I don''t think now is the time to leisurely talk about thetest news~]

    The demonized Sady interrupted.

    She swung her whip at the swarming poisonous people.

    Kirko and Aiyen stiffened as well.

    They went out to sea and made a raft out of corpses, were attacked by a swarm of sharks on the way, fought a naval battle with a mysterious ghost ship, and so much more... there''s a lot more to the story, but that''s for another time!

    Later, after ying the demon, it would be enough to solve the story all night long.

    [You''ve brought some pretty troublesome stuff with you, but it''s not a game changer just because it''s unusual].

    uros red at Vikir and opened his mouth.

    His repaired Original Uroboros was ready to spew red death again.

    Vikir lowered his stance and faced uros.

    Certainly, the addition of Aiyen and Kirko would be a great boost to the battle, but they alone would not be able to hunt down the Flouros in front of them.

    Vikir was nning what to do next.

    "U-waaaaaaaah!"

    Tudor''s cheer came from behind.

    Tudor running around looking backwards.

    Soon, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca join in, their voices rising in excitement.

    "...!"

    Vikir jerked his head back.

    He could feel the ground vibrating slightly.

    dudeudeug- dudeudeug- dudeudeug- dudeudeug-

    The sound of hooves shaking the earth. A roar of triumph.

    U-waaaaaaaah!

    An army with four banners was approaching at incredible speed toward them.

    The barracks of the poisonous people crumble. The poisonous soldiers were trampled like rotten leaves.

    Mage Master Family Morg.

    Faithful Saint Family Quovadis.

    Tycoon Family Bourgeois.

    ...And the Iron-Blooded Swordsmen, the Baskervilles.

    All four allied Houses were sending reinforcements here, each with their most elite troops!

    Kirko wiped off her cold sweat and smiled slightly.

    "Well, it was worth to gain some time."

    They could see the Salvation Armying.

    The expressions of the group members present became determined again.

    Vikir also raised his head and looked at uros in front of him.

    [....]

    uros'' expression was crumpled, as if he hadn''t expected such a situation.

    Now the stage was slowly approaching its conclusion.

 Chapter 464: The Prelude to a Counterattack (2)

    <h4>Chapter 464: The Prelude to a Counterattack (2)</h4>

    [Goooooooohhh!]

    Powerful poisonous mutants burst through the ground.

    Each one of them is a monster with a huge and hideous body.

    One of the men at the forefront of the reinforcements drew a crimson sword and began slicing the poisonous mutants into pieces like rotten radishes.

    ...peopeopeopeog!

    Osiris, the young lord of the Iron Blood Swordman Family, stood tall over the corpses of the poisonous people, who were copsing with a fountain of blood.

    "Eat a lot, nephew."

    Osiris swept away even the evil spirits of the Red Death and turned his head to the side.

    There stood a girl with ck hair and red eyes.

    "Yes uncle!"

    "...Not uncle, Samchun."

    "Uncle!"

    "I''m sad. Why don''t you call me Samchun...."

    But before Osiris could finish his sentence, the Pomeranian stretched his hands out in front of him.

    Tsutsutsutsuts...

    The Wraith Tree grew.

    Dark red ghosts rise above the corpses of dead poisonous people as if they were being pulled out.

    Skull-shaped berries burst open on its gnarled branches.

    A battlefield is the best ce for a Wraith Tree to grow.

    Then.

    [Kyaaaaah!]

    From behind Pomerian, one of the surviving poisonous people rushed forward, dragging his battered body.

    It was a cunning creature that had been lying on the ground like a corpse the entire time.

    It stretched out its long arms to grab Pomerian.

    peopeopeog!

    Three strands of strikes sliced through the poisonous people''s arm.

    fluttering-

    Three ck wisps of blood stood in Pomerian''s way.

    Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro.

    They looked up at the mountain peaks beyond the dead bodies of the poisonous people and murmured.

    "Let''s go. Our lord is waiting."

    "Our is waiting."

    "He is waiting."

    The Trident of Baskerville, no, the Trident of Vikir.

    They were escorting Pomerian and leading the Knights to the summit.

    Of course, the road to the mountain peak was long and difficult.

    With so many poisonous mutants rampaging like demons, even the strongest knights could not easily break through the walls of the siege.

    ...That was until the Seven Counts of House Baskerville stepped forward.

    Six shadows stretched across the battlefield, which was entirely covered with dark red aurora.

    The six counts, minus the long-vacant seat of CaneCorso, emerged from the mountain of corpses.

    ''Bostonterrier'' Les Baskerville, leader of the Knights of the Pit Bull.

    ''Greatdan'' Les Baskervilles, leader of the Knights of the Mastiff.

    ''Isabe'' La Baskerville, leader of the Knights of the Doberman.

    ''German'' Les Baskervilles, leader of the Knights of the Shepherds.

    ''Metzgerhund'' Les Baskervilles, leader of the Knights of the Rottweiler.

    ''Cu-Chinn'' Les Baskervilles leader of the Knights of the Wolfhounds.

    Having spent their entire lives on the battlefield, they quickly adapted to the war against the poisonous mutants.

    peopeopeopeopeopeopeog!

    Bostonterrier beheaded a staggering number of poisonous soldiers in a long series of strikes.

    Waves of blood rushed from the ground and showers of blood fell from the sky.

    "Hehehe �C I probably caught the most on this battlefield."

    However.

    ...bang!

    With a deafening bang, a gigantic, fleshy, poisonous mutant fell backwards.

    Greatdan, who had punched a hole in the demon''s huge head, walked out, wiping the blood from his knife with the hem of his clothes.

    "What''s the point of catching many? You have to catch the big one. I''ve probably caught the biggest one on this battlefield."

    "Bullshit! Catching a lot is the best!"

    "Are anglerspeting based on what they catch? Even if you catch just one, it''s best to catch the big one."

    Just then.

    jjeoeog-

    A ck sh was drawn between the bickering Bostonterrier and Greatdan.

    One of the poisonous mutants fell to the ground in half, and Isabe stepped forward.

    Her path was streaked with blood.

    At first nce, she had killed far more poisonous people than Bostonterrier.

    Among the piles of bodies, there were oftenrger ones than Greatdan had killed.

    "If you have time for bullshit, why don''t you cut down one more?"

    "...."

    "...."

    Bostonterrier and Greatdan grunted and averted their gaze.

    It was always a losing proposition with that young, smart woman, whether they fought with swords or words.

    The other Counts were pushing the poisonous peolpe to near pulp.

    German, fiercely charging through the ranks as if he could not lose to Isabe, Metzgerhund, shing his six teeth as if to prove that he was the best of the 6th Form, and Cu-Chinn, 4th Form Master who unusually insists only on the 4th Form.

    Each of them is unique and violent, and they tear apart the poisonous peolpe''s siege with ferocity.

    The Knights, following their leaders, charge through the center of the battlefield.

    Soon, the senators of House Baskerville also appeared on the front lines.

    Old men with bushy eyebrows and long beards, wear ck iron armor, slicing and dicing the poisonous peolpe.

    "Heoheoheo- Sade and Orca are out on the battlefield, shouldn''t we be in the back room?"

    "I''m sure they''ve aged a lot too, Why don''t we see each other again after such a long time?."

    "Holholhol �C it reminds me of the old days., these are the guys I ran into on a fictional day on the battlefield."

    "By the way, things must be pretty bad for them to drag us out, huh?"

    "I was tired of being treated as a waste of the previous generation, so let''s loosen the reins and run wild."

    "Yeah. I guess the head of the house will take care of everything~"

    The entirety of the Baskerville family is in motion.

    The Morg, the Quovadis, and the Bourgeois were all racing across the battlefield with their armies.

    Morg head Respane and her deputy, Adolf, were in attendance.

    Pope Nabokov I of Quovadis, Cardinal Luther, and Archbishop Mozgus were also on the battlefield.

    Bourgeois also poured all of the family''s wealth into this battlefield, and even Demian, the acting head of the family, was at the forefront of the war.

    "Advance to the water source!"

    "Let''s break through to Tochka!"

    "Don''t stop! Keep marching!"

    The reinforcements were on their way to Tochka, as had been decided at the previous meeting of the Alliance Houses.

    It was the result of the persuasion of Kirko, who had once led the Nouvelle Vague''s elite into the meeting.

    kwakwakwakwakwang!

    The red death spirits were all burned to death by the me-type magic unleashed by Adolf the Mad Mage.

    Beside him, the three sisters, Highsis, Midsis, and Lowsis, were searching for Camus.

    "Camus! Where are you!"

    "We are working really hard!"

    "Can''t we talk about this after the war?"

    Of course, there were other forces besides the four allied families.

    The Verangian Boot Camp, the Magic Tower, the Themiscyra Women''s College, and the Colosseo Academy.

    Faculty members, led by Principal Banshee, also appeared on the battlefield.

    "Hahahaha, finally settling a score!"

    "Hmph, you filthy poisonous bastards."

    "Vikir-nim, I''ming-oh!"

    Young talents such as Bakiraga, Hohenheim, and Lovegood were also leading the student army and advancing.

    Even.

    "Pushishishi! What''s this, we''re going to bete for this fun feast!"

    Even Tochka''s counterattack force, led by Sade, had reached the peak.

    Arge army of Orca and Nouvelle Vague guards, prisoners, and refugee vigntes were trampling the poisonous army relentlessly.

    "Young master, we''re here!"

    "Boss! Where are you!"

    "...No, why me too!?"

    Chihuahua, Minpin, and CindyWendy are also seen being included in the reinforcements.

    "Did youe to see me?"

    "Ew! What are you doing, everyone else is watching!"

    Suddenly, Osiris swoops down like a bird of prey and embraces CindyWendy with a huge smile on his face.

    ...And there was a gaze looking down on it all from a mountain peak.

    "...."

    [....]

    Vikir. And uros.

    The Demon Hunter and the Demon King stood sharply opposite each other.

    And behind Vikir stood Camus, Aiyen, Dolores, Sinir, and Kirko.

    ...sh!

    The 8th Form of Baskerville, the ck sun rose high in the sky.

    Surrounding it were scorching mes, iron skewers, powerful rain of arrows, divine protection, golden giants, and blood-sucking creatures.

    "It''s over."

    Vikir continued speaking with confidence.

    "The demon kill."

    But faced with Vikir''s deration, uros was still not rxed.

    [Well. Is that so?]

    "...?"

    Vikir narrowed his eyes.

    uros jumped back and soon stood on the ledge of the crater.

    That was the ce where Vikirunched a sh to clear the waterway before the battle began.

    Peering into the deep furrow, uros smirked.

    [You''vee all this way and there''s no water, aren''t you disappointed, my friends?]

    "It doesn''t matter. If I can kill you here."

    [Hmm- no, we should at least have water, considering the refugees in Tochka].

    Still frowning, uros waved his hand into the dark void.

    And he held out his tightly clenched fist in front of Vikir.

    [What do you think is in here?]

    Vikir didn''t enjoy talking to demons, and he didn''t want to know what was in that fist.

    But before Vikir could answer, uros opened his fist wide.

    It was a nymph.

    "...!"

    Vikir''s eyes widened, and uros chewed and swallowed the shivering nymph in one bite.

    He smirked and opened his mouth to speak.

    [Actually, if it''s water, it is. A lot].

    uros raised the spear he was holding high.

    And he said onest thing.

    [You should have dug a little deeper.]

    A moment. An emotion shed through Vikir''s mind.

    It was a sense of loss.

    ''Lying leopard''.

    It was the nickname of the 2nd Corpse uros.

    It is uros'' habit and ability to tell usible lies about everything.

    Vikir hesitated. He couldn''t predict what uros was after, or what his motives were.

    And then, as Vikir had predicted, uros revealed something he had been hiding.

    ...kwakwang!

    The demon''s spear struck the bottom of the cratered pit.

    And then something incredible happened.

    kwalkwalkwalkwalkwalkwalkwalkwalkwalkwal-

    A tremendous amount of water gushed out from the point of uros''s spear.

    Minpin''s information was not wrong. There was indeed a water source in the crater.

    But when Camus, Aiyen, Dolores, Sinir, and Kirko saw the water gushing out, they couldn''t help but wonder.

    "What''s going on? Why are you suddenly finding water sources?"

    "...It''s suspicious."

    "What are he nning on doing, handing over drinking water?"

    "He''s voluntarily giving us water in this situation?"

    "I have a bad feeling about this."

    They couldn''t fathom why the demon was so willing to give them water.

    And in this situation.

    "...!"

    Vikir was the only one whose expression changed drastically.

 Chapter 465: The Prelude to a Counterattack (3)

    <h4>Chapter 465: The Prelude to a Counterattack (3)</h4>

    "...!"

    Vikir was the only one whose expression changed drastically.

    Vikir had seen all of uros''s malice in that split second when the water burst forth.

    ''Lying leopard''.

    That''s uros''s nickname the 2nd Corpse.

    It is his habit and skill to tell usible lies at every turn.

    He has the ability to make others believe his lies, and he is adept at deceiving others with various tricks.

    ...peopeong!

    The embankment copsed and the underground water inside burst out.

    kwalkwalkwalkwalkwalkwalkwalkwalkwal-

    A huge amount of water gushed toward the ground.

    The water in the undergroundke was clear and clean enough for the nymphs to live in.

    So the absence of water at the source was a false proposition created by uros.

    ...The problem was that uros''s spear was stuck right where the water flowed.

    Shiririk.

    Two snakes gaped at the stream.

    The water grazed their razor-sharp fangs and instantly turned red.

    Yes. As soon as uros opened the waterway, he was releasing a huge amount of gue poison into the water.

    It was the same trick that had infested the Usher mansion.

    "What! Water!"

    "There was actually water here!"

    "Oh my God, I thought I was going to burn my throat out!"

    "But the color of the water is weird."

    "It''s groundwater, maybe there was some dirt mixed in.."

    The soldiers were delighted to see the water flowing down the slope.

    They put their mouths to the pale reddish water and gulped it down.

    ... The reaction was immediate.

    "Keoheug!?"

    Those who drank or touched the water began to vomit and have seizures.

    "Euag!! It''s poison!"

    "You''ve been turned into a poisonous man!"

    "Don''t drink the water!"

    "Quickly bring the priests!"

    The priests quickly applied their spells, and the soldiers didn''t turn into poisonous people.

    But the damage done by the massive drain on their holy power was irreversible.

    "Don''t drink the water!"

    "Spread it backwards! They must not drink the water!"

    "Don''t even touch it!"

    The soldiers spread the message to theirrades below.

    But the water was going down much faster than the messages were spreading.

    Also, many of the soldiers in the back of the line resisted the advice to not drink the water.

    "What''s going on, guys, why are you telling us not to drink water?"

    "I don''t know. Are they trying to keep it all to themselves?"

    "All this water? Isn''t it because you get diarrhea or something if you drink anything?"

    "Kahahaha- I don''t care about that, I have a strong stomach!"

    There was great chaos in the rear troops.

    People turning into the poisonous people, people writhing in pain, and priests wasting tons of holy power to heal them.

    Watching all of this, uros burst outughing.

    [Ha-hahahaha! How''s that, demon hunter, spectacr, huh?]

    uros imbued the hand holding the spear with even stronger magic power.

    The water began to turn a dark blood color.

    The Original Uroboros was producing a massive amount of poison even now.

    The reason uros was able to spread the Red Death across the entire continent and create an enormous number of poisonous soldiers was probably thanks to the unique abilities of that spear, which was no different from his alter ego.

    ...chiiiig!

    Vikir drew upon Madame''s poisonous blood and burned away all the gue poison that had entered his body.

    At the very least, Madame''s poison should be enough to suppress the red death.

    However, it was impossible to stop all of the Red Death that was dissolved in such a huge amount of water.

    The gravity of the situation began to dawn on everyone in the group.

    The water from the source would surely flow down the hillside and reach Fort Tochka.

    Refugees suffering from starvation due to insufficient drinking water will definitely drink this water in a hurry, and the result will be....

    [I told you, I''ll turn all the trash in Tochka into poisonous people. I''m a man of my word!]

    urosughed, his face contorted.

    The turbulent waters rushing down the mountain valley were now stained red.

    At this rate, even the Salvatio forces rushing toward the water source here would be swept away and drowned.

    And the refugees left behind in Tochka, unaware, will drink the water and turn into poisonous people, too.

    "...."

    Vikir gritted his teeth at this horrifying realization.

    He shouldn''t havee to the source. He should never have left Tochka.

    He should have stayed within the walls, locking the gates, even if it meant dying of thirst.

    In the end, they had fallen for uros''s trick, and they would all be poisoned.

    Vikir quickly looked away.

    Dolores was there, nodding her head with a determined expression.

    "We must not give up until the end, for miracles onlye to those who act!"

    Dolores sped her hands together and released all of her remaining holy power.

    ...paas!

    The white pir of light she created cleansed the water around her.

    But it wasn''t enough. It would be impossible for Dolores to purify the entirety of this huge waterway with her power.

    "...Ugh!"

    Dolores'' expression frowned.

    Sweat poured down her face, and she felt like she might copse at any moment.

    Just then.

    Tuck-

    There was a hand on her shoulder.

    Vikir. Night Hound rested on Dolores'' shoulders and gave her strength.

    "I''m sorry. I need a ce to lean right now...."

    Dolores''s heart began to pound hard as she watched Vikir shake his head in disbelief.

    The thing she had always hoped for had happened.

    She would never forget the moment when the scarred hound, who never relied on others, rested his head on her shoulder for the first time.

    ''I can''t let you down, Vikir!''

    Dolores''s eyes changed.

    "Miracles are granted only to the first to reach out, and to those who believe and do, it shall surely happen!"

    Dolores knocks on the door of limitation while reciting a prayer.

    Her soul resonates, and a pir of pure white light emanates from her.

    And all the priests of Quovadis House, seeing the holy light she emits, begin to purify the waters with all their might.

    paaas!

    Martin Luther unleashed a massive shield of holy defense, washing away the entire wave.

    Mozgus and the rest of the elite priests of Quovadis followed Dolores'' lead and stood in front of the red tide.

    To their surprise, the color of the bursting wave cleared for a moment.

    The red energy was slowly draining away.

    However.

    [Hahahahahaha- Are you fools?]

    uros stood atop the rock, sneering at the priests who were trying to purify the waters.

    [Holy power is not infinite, and how long do you think you can keep the poison at bay? It would be more efficient if you saved it and used it to escape.]

    The demon''s words were reasonable.

    A huge amount of poisonous water flows through the mountain peaks.

    Even if they could hold out for a while, the situation was already effectively over.

    A wave of red death would soon wash over the reinforcements.

    And, by extension, the countless refugees who have flocked to Tochka.

    It seemed self-evident that the world would soon be filled with poisonous people infected with the Red Death.

    But then.

    ...kwakwang!

    Vikir still hadn''t given up as he formed eight teeth toward uros.

    [Futile endeavor, demon hunter, for soon it will be a world of poisonous people down there, and no matter how vicious you try, your world is doomed... Hmm!?]

    But the determination in Vikir''s eyes was enough to shut uros'' mouth.

    "Your poison is certainly strong. Far beyond my expectations."

    [....]

    "But at best, your poison has only defeated me, not this world."

    As he spoke, Vikir''s eyes zed with a terrifying light.

    "Do not underestimate this world."

    Vikir pushed forward with all his might, his feet nted on the ground of the world he''d grown up in.

    He put his entire weight on his big toe and ran so that the tip of his forehead was the farthest forward.

    ck Sun. The eight strikes swung fiercely, tearing through uros''s body.

    Kwak-kwak!

    But even as he looked at the fountain of blood gushing out from his body, urosughed leisurely.

    [Hahahaha- So what does this mean, the humans down there are already finished...!?]

    Suddenly. uros'' expression, distorted with ridicule, hardened.

    The peaks came into view, a stream of water cascading down a series of tiers.

    The waterfall at the base of the first peak is red.

    The waterfall below the second peak is also red.

    ...?

    The color of the waterfall at the bottom of the third peak is strange.

    Transparent color. Clear water. Somehow, the water beneath it didn''t carry any of the red death spirit.

    "Uh, what?"

    "What happened to the water in the area we missed?"

    "Who purified that ce?"

    The priests who were purifying the water were also puzzled.

    The soldiers at the bottom of the mountainside drink the flowing water and tilt their heads.

    "What? Why did you tell us not to drink the water?"

    "Hmm? It''s fine, it''s so clear and cool."

    "Ouch! Didn''t the guys who went up first lie so they could drink all the water? There''s so much!"

    The soldiers were right.

    The water that began to flow down the peak was crystal clear, even though it was untouched by holy power.

    The water was flowing swiftly toward Fort Tochka in the distance.

    [Uh, what''s going on?]

    uros stretched out his neck with a dumbfounded expression.

    Only then did the view of the mountainside belowe into focus.

    Gulp, gulp, gulp, gulp, gulp, gulp, gulp.

    There, a giant spider, the size of dozens of adult menbined, stood against the current, drinking water.

    A spider with its head buried in the waves, sucking in huge amounts of water.

    A radius of tens of meters of red death could be seen swirling around it, being sucked in.

    "Wait a minute. Where have you seen a lot of spiders?"

    "No way!"

    "If it''s a poison-eating spider...."

    "Oh my God, that thing!"

    "Are spiders on the ground supposed to be that big?"

    The spider''s performance was so impressive that Camus, Aiyen, Dolores, Sinir, and Kirko each had something to say.

    Vikir''s face lit up.

    Baby Madame!

    The one we lost so long ago had reappeared with a muchrger body and more powerful poison!

    But uros''s momentum was not dead yet...

    [What can a spider do, it''s quiterge for a spider, but that''s all it is, a spider at best!]

    uros shouted nervously.

    He firmly believed that the appearance of a single spider would not turn the tide of the battle.

    However.

    ppajig-

    That steadfast attitude was shattered as thendscape beyond the spider began to reveal itself.

    ...kung!

    Another spider appeared.

    This one was just as big as the original.

    Crawling up beside the original big spider, it too began to suck up water and absorb the red death.

    ...kung!

    Another giant spider appeared next to it.

    ...kung! ...kung! ...kung! ...kung! ...kung! ...kung! ...kung!

    And again. And another. The spiders just keeping.

    The number of spiders was already beyond counting.

    Moreover, the spiders that kept appearing were much bigger and fatter than the first ones.

    Then.

    Vikir''s mind shed back to the words that CindyWendy had said not long ago.

    ''Ah, speaking of Bk, it seems that... has gained a new guardian recently. Apparently, They say it''s quite a ''trusty friend''.''

    Bk''s new guardian. A trusty friend.

    ''Now that I think about it, is it already time for it to get dark like this?''

    The night that had fallen around them was unusually dark.

    But when he looked up, the sun was still hanging at the end of the sky.

    ...So why is it so dark here?

    [...!?]

    uros jerked his head up.

    There, he saw something huge, almost blocking out the sky.

    At first nce, one might mistake it for the night sky.

    Sssssssss...

    The leaves of the nearby trees rustle in unison.

    It was casting an even thicker shadow over the peaks here.

    Extremely.

    Slowly.

    Absolutely.

    No sound.

    It was so close.

    It''s approaching without anyone knowing.

    Stealthily.

    ...But with a clear purpose!

 Chapter 466: The Prelude to a Counterattack (4)

    <h4>Chapter 466: The Prelude to a Counterattack (4)</h4>

    "...Miracles are sure to happen to those who believe."

    Dolores covered her mouth with her hands and muttered in a low voice.

    Anyone who saw what was happening in front of their eyes could say that, even if they were not members of the Lun Church.

    A horde of giant spiders, and the singlergest spider of them all.

    Time has passed so quickly that the baby madam, who was once as small as a lump of dust, has now be a mother with a gigantic body.

    A huge mother with a bunch of small(?) children who look exactly like her!

    "...I can''t believe it."

    "You''re much bigger than Madame Eight-Legged."

    The Madame cub was so huge that even Camus and Aiyen, who had seen the mother before, could not hide their surprise.

    It was like a mountain moving.

    kwalkwalkwalkwalkwalkwalkwalkwal...

    A wall of spiders blocks the stream of water polluted by the Red Death.

    A spider monster from the world.

    For a creature that thrives on poison, the Red Death was like the first fatty meal they''d had in a long time.

    The power, size, and gluttony of the spiders, which even demons were reluctant to confront, blocked even the seemingly unstoppable wave of red death.

    Gulp, gulp, gulp, gulp, gulp, gulp, gulp, gulp-

    The streams that the spiders touched became clear and transparent again.

    The red death aura was being cleansed away by the countless spiders.

    The priests on one side, the spiders on the other, hold the Red Death at bay.

    Flubber, too, was devouring the poisonous people, growing in size and inhaling more and more of the Red Death.

    Camus and Aiyen were beside him, draping an arm over Dolores'' shoulders.

    "Hey, Holy Water Vending Machine. You and my boyfriend were having such a good time earlier. What should I do now that I''m sad that I have less work to do?"

    "Ah, that''s a shame!? And who''s the vending machine! It is sphemy! And why is Vikir your boyfriend in the first ce?"

    "Oh- I also benefited from this saintly juice a long time ago. Hahaha-"

    "J-juice!"

    Behind him, Sinir was barely holding back herughter, and Kirko was just standing there with a sullen expression on her face.

    Then. In front of everyone, Madame cub bowed her head.

    ku-gugugugugu...

    The cub slowly lowered her face to where Vikir stood.

    The sound of the carapace rubbing against the carapace surrounding the joint was transmitted like an earthquake through the ground.

    It''s a bit strange to see a fully grown adult.

    Vikir looked at her with some wariness.

    However.

    ppangsis-

    Madame cub lowered her head in front of Vikir and smiled brightly.

    Back in the days in the dormitory of the Colosseo Academy, she would wait alone in his room while Vikir was out for ss, and when Vikir would open the door ande back, she would always look like that.

    [Hack-hack-hack-]

    The cub tilted her head toward Vikir.

    A fierce hug, seemingly oblivious to her own size.

    "...Mmm. Well, yeah. You''ve grown a lot, really."

    [kkiing- kkeung-]

    When Vikir strokes her, she wags her tail and burrows into his arms like she used to.

    She may have gotten bigger, but she''s still a baby.

    Just then, a familiar voice rang out above the cub''s head.

    "Hunting Leader!"

    "Brother! I''vee to help!"

    How could he forget those voices?

    Vikir looked up and saw the faces of those he had bonded with in the jungle.

    Ahul, whom he had met in the Hell Tree, and Ahun, whom he hadn''t known alive since, stared at him with a bow in hand.

    Behind them, the warriors of Bk, all of whom Vikir had thought dead, smile at him, revealing their white teeth.

    [Grrrr!]

    A roar erupted from behind Vikir, who was just about to wave.

    Vakira, the returning spirit of Aiyen, roars toward the sky.

    An answering roar came from the gathering of Bk''s warriors.

    A wolf, identical to Vakira''s, reared its head.

    Vi, Ahul''s partner. Vakira''s daughter.

    The wolf father and daughter also share a long-overdue reunion.

    And then.

    peopeong! peog! peo-eog!

    The fearsome archery of Bk''s warriors began to push the poisonous people back.

    Ahul''s performance, in particr, was almost unrivaled.

    Based on the stats she had gained from the Hell Tree, she was overwhelming the strength of even the most elderly Bk warriors.

    "You''ve improved a lot, Ahul."

    "...Hunting leader!

    Aiyen patted Ahul''s head roughly.

    Ahul''s eyes filled with tears as soon as she saw Aiyen''s face.

    Meanwhile, Vikirnded on his side and asked Ahun.

    "What about the chieftain?"

    "She was attacked by a demon in the form of a horse. She still suffered from the effects of her battle with Adonai, but she broke the tip of the demon''s horn....."

    Vikir nodded silently at Ahun''s words.

    Perhaps the reason he was able to defeat Amdusias so soon after emerging from the Hell Tree was because of Aqu''s previous battle.

    Amdusias hadn''t been able to ovee the aftereffects of Aqu''s power.

    Then, a hand tapped Vikir on the shoulder.

    Kirko. She said with her eyes shining.

    "Now is your chance. It''s time to strike back."

    Vikir nodded his head in agreement.

    Soon, all the reinforcements began to push toward the peak.

    "Capture Leviathan''s lord!"

    Baskerville, Morg, Quovadis, Bourgeois, Tochka reinforcements, and even Bk and the spiders.

    uros became the target of all who gathered here.

    [...Huh.]

    uros shakes his head in disbelief.

    But the tide of battle has definitely turned.

    Even his secret weapon, poison release, has been neutralized by the priests of Quovadis and the spiders of the Jungle, making things quite difficult for the demon.

    Furthermore, the warriors of Baskerville and Morg were now tearing through the poisonous people with terrifying force, and the battle could be over in a matter of moments.

    uros looked back at Vikir and smirked.

    [Yes, I admit it, I guess I saw your world too easily.]

    A deration of defeat came from the demon''s mouth.

    But Vikir knew better than anyone that a victory was not a victory unless the enemy''s life was ended.

    Especially not against a demon.

    kwang!

    At the same time as Vikir stomped on the ground and charged out, uros also jumped back.

    "...Here''s where we need to catch him.

    uros was a strong and cunning being.

    All demons were, but among them, uros was far more dangerous.

    Vikir raced up the mountain peak, intent on killing him.

    The poisonous people tried to stop him, but the five behind him blew away the obstacles and cleared the way.

    Camus, Aiyen, Dolores, Sinir, and Kirko.

    zing mes, iron skewers, powerful arrows, holy protection, golden giants, and vampiric creatures overwhelmed the wall of poisonous people who tried to protect uros from Vikir.

    Then Vikir broke through the crumbling wall of poisonous people and grabbed uros from behind.

    "Demon."

    ck Sun. Eight ferocious teeth bared.

    "Kill."

    The hound had a strong killing intent.

    Just then.

    [...Oh, my son!]

    uros suddenly turned his face over.

    A ck shadow shed in front of uros as he pulled back the leopard skin, revealing the facial hide of Hobbes, the head of House Leviathan.

    At the same time.

    ...kkaang!

    Vikir had to lift Beelzebub to block the heavy scythe falling on the top of his head.

    Flutter-!

    The ck scythe, tattered from countless battles, swung around.

    The Harvester, who breathes out a thick fog of poison, blocking Vikir''s path.

    Kwagigigig!

    Sword and scythe sh, creating countless sparks of fire.

    But the Harvester was no match for Vikir.

    The more teeth there were, and the more dizzy the sword strike, the more the Harvester was being pushed away by Vikir mercilessly.

    "Some poisons don''t work on me."

    After speaking, Vikir removed the scythe with his sword and at the same time struck the Harvester''s chest with his palm.

    Thwack!

    A heavy crack sounded from the Harvester''s breastte as it cracked open.

    But uros was unperturbed.

    [Hang in there, son, the Movement Magic Circle will be activated soon].

    The words were spoken more to mock Vikir than to encourage the Harvester.

    uros turned back to Vikir with a mocking look on his face.

    [Now, write ''it''].

    Hearing uros''smand, the Harvester immediately pulled a handful of something from his bosom.

    A ck sphere, with many barbed spikes sprouting from it.

    Vikir recognized it at a nce.

    "The seed of the Hell Tree!"

    [Yes! Ites out when it''s bored, doesn''t it?]

    uros answered on his behalf.

    Around them, the rumbling poisonous clouds were gathering once more.

    It wasn''t just the Hell Tree Seed that was distorting space.

    "It''s space movement magic!"

    "It''s quite high ss, brother!"

    Camus and Sinir''s urgent voices came from behind.

    Vikir gritted his teeth and picked up his pace, but he couldn''t seem to keep up with the countless Hell Tree Seeds flying in front of him.

    ''If I get hit by one of those, I don''t know what will happen.''

    ''If I''m dragged into the Illusionary World again, I have no answer.''

    If he were to be dragged into the Hell Tree once more in such a desperate time of war, it would be a terrible thing indeed.

    Vikir had no choice but to give up on the frontal assault.

    ... But at that very moment.

    "Vikir, go!"

    A voice called out, clearing the way for Vikir.

    ...peopeopeog!

    Vikir''s path was cleared by a being who blocked the seeds of the Hell Tree with his entire body.

    Vikir''s eyes widened at the unexpected help.

    Piggy.

    He gritted his teeth, his body covered in blood.

 Chapter 467: The Prelude to a Counterattack (5)

    <h4>Chapter 467: The Prelude to a Counterattack (5)</h4>

    ''Get out.''

    Into the darkness.

    Once again, Piggy found himself in the same environment.

    The only difference was that this time Piggy knew it was an illusion.

    ''...Ah, is this a childhood memory?''

    Piggy looked at his younger self and the middle-aged man standing in front of him.

    The face was familiar, but strangely unrecognizable, a face that was shrouded in a haze.

    ''This scum is not my blood.''

    A memory from the distant past, one that even Piggy himself couldn''t remember, yed.

    It was the same vision he''d had when he was a freshman at Colosseo Academy, when he''d nearly died during a midterm exam.

    ''I seem to be unusually good at seeing visions.''

    It was true at the Academy, it was true when he was trapped in the Hell Tree, and it was true now.

    He''d gotten used to having strange visions and hallucinations whenever his life was in danger.

    ...But the sound of his mother''s cries that followed was always hard to get used to, and made his heart sink.

    And the contempt and hatred that follows.

    ''How dare you be so lowly, you don''t even know the subject.''

    ''Get him out of here now.''

    ''... Get rid of him.''

    The chatter around him swirls and follows the sobs.

    Piggy''s vision shifts several times after that.

    Fleeing mothers, forests and mountains, pursuers, steep cliffs, raging rivers, hungry wolves, and the startled faces of passing merchants and mercenaries.

    Time passes, and so do memories.

    His mother, who never smiled and always looked at him with a sad expression.

    His stepfather, who was always there tofort her and give his son the love he deserved, bing a strong pir of the family.

    In the face of his father''s devoted efforts, her mother gradually began to smile.

    And then came the entrance ceremony. Colosseo Academy, the best university in the empire.

    Piggy wanted to show his mother, who was full of unhappiness, and his father, who had dedicated his life to making her happy.

    ... But it wasn''t all smooth sailing.

    At Peggy''s first school, he was bullied. This was due to his timid nature.

    His rtively frail body, as opposed to his brilliant brain, caused him to fail various tests.

    The scenery of Hell Tree continuing after the academy days. Motives who brutally kill each other.

    The next scene is a world in mes.

    Monsters run rampant, civil wars rage, and the world bes increasingly deste.

    ...However.

    Piggy was bravely oveing all of this.

    Despite all the hardships and adversity, Piggy was able to hold on to life and persevere.

    ''It''s okay now.''

    It was the voices of his friends who always stood behind him.

    It was Piggy''s rtionships with his friends that always had his back, even when he could have easily lost sight of the world.

    The blunt but warm voice behind him made Piggy smile and murmur to himself.

    "He''s a good guy."

    A moment.

    ''Huh? Come to think of it...''

    It was the same voice he''d heard when he''d fought Amdusias the 5th, Cimeries the 4th, and Andrealphus the 3rd.

    ''A good man.''

    An auditory hallucination that embarrassed countless demons.

    That was what he heard every time his blood flowed into the demons.

    A moment.

    ...Huug!

    A face popped up in front of Piggy.

    ''Can''t you hear me? I said get out!''

    That was....

    * * * *

    "...Huh!?"

    Piggy opened his eyes.

    The first thing that came into view was a face.

    Vikir.

    Vikir was looking down into Piggy''s face.

    "It''s okay now, Piggy."

    The voice sounded exactly like the one he''d heard in the vision.

    Piggy smiled weakly through her fading eyes.

    " ...You''re a good man, you always were, and you always will be."

    "Piggy! Come to your senses, the bleeding has stopped!"

    Vikir shook Piggy''s body.

    But even though the bleeding had stopped, too much blood had been lost.

    The Hell Tree Seed had spread like wildfire, lodging deep within Piggy''s body and tearing out all of his internal organs.

    Piggy swallowed a gulp of blood and answered.

    "Closing the Hell Tree is the only thing I''m good at, and even though I can''t do anything else, ... I really wanted to help."

    "Don''t be silly...!"

    Vikir opened his mouth, but Piggy shook his head.

    "Go."

    "...."

    "Go kill the demon. Save the world."

    Piggy looked at Vikir with all the strength in his eyes.

    "If I can''t be a hero, but I can be a hero''s friend, I''ll be satisfied. Go!"

    Vikir gritted his teeth at Piggy''s shout.

    In front of him, the Harvester still stood tall and steadfast with his scythe.

    Behind him, this time, uros was activating an ultra-long-distance magic circle.

    "Move!"

    Dropping Piggy to the ground, Vikir swung his sword at the Harvester.

    Thwack-!

    The Harvester returned Vikir''s blow with a casual gesture, as if he was willing to y along to buy time.

    ...Kwagigigig!

    Vikir''s de fell, and the Harvester''s scythe picked it up.

    A brief confrontation ensued between the two.

    "...I know who you are."

    Piggy''s voice instantly sent a shiver down the Harvester''s spine.

    Piggy''s dying eyes were giving him a contemtive stare.

    "...He''s the demon, and you''re being lied to."

    "...."

    "And you have the power to see through it."

    Piggy coughed and spat out a few mouthfuls of ck blood.

    Then he spoke with difficulty.

    "I don''t think you''re a bad person, we were friends...."

    But Piggy didn''t finish his sentence.

    His hand fell to the floor as he struggled to smile as he said the word friend.

    "Piggy!"

    Tudor and Sancho ran crying, but were blocked by the wall of thest poisonous guards.

    The Harvester lifted his scythe and parried Vikir''s sword.

    peoeog!

    Blood spurted from his chest and limbs, but the weapon had served its purpose.

    uros had perfected his Space Traveling Magic Circle.

    [Come here, my eldest son-]

    uros smirked and summoned the Harvester.

    For some reason, even in the face of defeat and the loss of all his poisonous soldiers, he was smiling broadly.

    [Can I ask you a favor?]

    [A favor? You to me? What?]

    [...It''s about killing a man. If he were alive, he would look like this by now.]

    Recalling his past, uros eximed in a tone of satisfaction, as if he had made a bargain.

    [The purpose ofing here has already been achieved! Everyone retreat! Survive on your own!]

    uros''s shout startled everyone gathered at the water source.

    "...!"

    Vikir recognized the satisfaction and aplishment in uros''s voice.

    And why the master liar had led his entire army to this water source, his true reason and purpose.

    ''Oh no!''

    Vikir turned his head to see Piggy lying on the ground, bleeding out.

    uros''s smirking gaze was fixed on Piggy, whose eyes were closed and growing cold.

    The demon''s purpose ining to Tochka was not to kill the demon hunter.

    His purpose was to kill Piggy in the first ce!

    [Demon Hunter, I''ll save the conversation with you for another time, I promise. It won''t be long, and you''ll soon realize that today was only a taste. For my vials of poison are far more than this.]

    uros shouted, his magic circle glowing brightly.

    ...But.

    "Piggy doesn''t die."

    Vikir''s words were short, as always.

    "Only you will die."

    At the same time, eight fierce teeth tore through the circle, tearing at the magic circle.

    The attack was fiercer and more vicious than ever.

    Vikir''s killing intent and determination made even the mighty uros break out in a cold sweat.

    [Son, stop that!]

    uros''mand was immediately heeded by the Harvester.

    But.

    "...Weren''t we ''friends''? Trusting each other."

    The Harvester''s entire body stiffened at the sound of Vikir''s voice that followed.

    For a moment, a glimpse of his face peeked out from beneath the hood he had cut off.

    Vikir stared at him with a gaze that stretched straight ahead.

    And it was that momentary hesitation that made all the difference.

    ...sh!

    The fiercely meshed teeth took a big bite of the light pir emanating from the magic circle.

    [kkeu-aaaaaag!?]

    uros screamed in unexpected shock and pain.

    At the same time, the magic circle shook violently.

    paas-

    Red poisonous smoke and light enveloped Flouros and the Harvester, swallowing them whole.

    ....

    And then a surprising silence descended.

    Where the battle had raged so fiercely just moments before, it was now as silent as a tomb.

    The demons he had just missed. And thepanions who had lost their lives.

    The btedly assembled group was speechless in the face of the devastation.

    In the distance, the sounds of the Allied forces ughtering the remnants of the poisonous soldiers could be heard.

    Camus, Aiyen, Dolores, Sinir, Kirko, and everyone else stood behind Vikir, saying nothing.

    ....

    And then.

    Vikir''s lips moved, heavy as hardened lead.

    "The real fight is about to begin."

    Everyone''s faces stiffened as they realized that the real fight hadn''t even begun yet.

    A time when greater and more enormous sacrifices will be required.

    The final act of this whole stage would soone.

 Chapter 468: The Prelude to a Counterattack (6)

    <h4>Chapter 468: The Prelude to a Counterattack (6)</h4>

    The nature of the Leviathan.

    ...sh!

    The entire basement brightened up.

    The Spatial Traveling Magic Circle that upied an enormous area hadpletely lost its effectiveness.

    This magic circle, which allows one to travel over a very long distance in a single bound, is extremely costly andbor-intensive to construct, but its effectiveness is certain.

    uros stood up in a state ofplete disrepair.

    His left arm and chest arm had been ripped off and torn away as he walked out of the circle of light.

    [Damned demon hunter, biting and wing until the very end...]

    If he hadn''t moved his heart to the right in the moment of crisis, he would have been in real danger.

    Thousands of thoughts, one mistake (ǧ�]һʧ). The moment of relief at the end might have cost him his life.

    ''Demons kill.''

    The demon hunter''s final growl was still echoing in his ears.

    uros shuddered once.

    Then he had to surprise himself at his body''s reaction.

    ''...Am I shaking?''

    Fear imprinted deeply on his subconscious.

    uros shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

    ''That can''t be, it''s just the result of using up too much magic. I''m just tired.''

    But he couldn''t help the bitterness in his heart.

    After all, in the end, he had been chased away by a mere mortal.

    uros sank into a chair in the corner of the stone chamber.

    He opened his bloodshot eyes and spoke.

    [Once again, I''m sending all the poisonous soldiers to Tochka, and this time it will be nothing like the battle at the Water Source.]

    Even if they were able to draw water from the source area, it would only prolong their lives by three days at most.

    Tochka, which basicallycks drinking water, was not a good ce to camp.

    [The poison here is limitless. It''s a fight we can''t lose].

    In other words, the demon hunters stuck in Tochka are still just flies.

    All they had to do was bring in more troops andpletely iste them.

    This was also a battle of pride.

    A fight to restore the pride that had been torn away in the battle for the Water Source.

    ''I will not spare a single human being in Tochka.''

    uros looked at the Original Uroboros in his hand.

    The two snakes that crawled out of the sack made of hell trees entered the jar again, biting each other''s tails, spinning around and starting to create poisonous fog.

    Infinite poison. Infinite poisonous people. There is no house or power that can stop Leviathan now.

    The same was true even if it was a union of the remaining Houses.

    ''Soon, the First Crown Prince will be Emperor. In the civil war, in the race war, I will be the victor. And then it will be the right time for me to aplish my great work.''

    As uros pondered his future ns.

    The ck-robed man who had copsed in the magic circle stirred to his feet.

    Seeing him, uros smiled in the face of Hobbes.

    [Well done, my heir. Thanks to you, I was able to grant the crown prince''s request. It was fitting that you sowed the seeds of the Hell Tree at the end].

    "...."

    The Harvester stood still, unresponsive.

    uros rubbed his hands together, assuming it was fatigue.

    [Yes, you must be tired, go get some rest. We''ll be busy mass-producing poisonous vials for a while, and as soon as you''re strong enough, you can return to work].

    "...."

    [Then head to Tochka as soon as the Poisonous Man Legion isplete. It''s time to end this once and for all, and soon our family will rule the world].

    At uros''s words, the Harvester merely bowed his head deeply.

    * * *

    The Harvester removed the ck hood that covered his face.

    There was pale skin, deep dark circles, and the face of a young man whose youthful appearance had not gone away despite the passage of time.

    Grenouille.

    He sank back into the couch with a deep sigh.

    His life had certainly been a solid one, from entering the Colosseo Academy, the best university in the empire, as the third son of Leviathan, and returned to his family after earning the honor of graduating early as the valedictorian. Rising to the rank of Captain of the ''Comprachicos'', the core force of Leviathan''s essence and one of the most powerful legions of poisonous mutants.

    ... But.

    Even though he had seeded in achieving the title he had so desperately sought, a position that earned him the recognition and respect of everyone in his family, and a life that was far more sessful than his snooty, arrogant brothers, he couldn''t help but feel a bit empty.

    Since when?

    ...When he watched his uncle, whom he had known since childhood, a man who was always kind to him even if he was always entric, slowly lose his mind after he started experimenting with drugs?

    ...Or when he watched his ssmates die in Hell Tree?

    ...When being put in a position where he was forced to look on in silence as countless people turned to poisonous people?

    In the midst of this chain of thoughts, a voice suddenly echoed in Grenouille''s head.

    ''I don''t think you''re a bad person, we were friends...''

    Piggy. A blurry face, nothing special about him, but for some reason he stuck in Grenouille''s memory.

    As Piggyst words reyed in his mind, his hands, which had never trembled in all the years he''d killed so many people, began to shake violently.

    The voice of a friend from long ago echoes in his ears.

    ''Why are you being so nice to me?''

    ''...Well, because we''re friends.''

    Grenouille bit his lip.

    "Vikir."

    Grenouille couldn''t quite define what he felt when they reunited.

    What he could say with certainty was that the gleam in his eyes, unwavering to the end, was the same.

    He always had a reason for everything he did.

    Vikir was someone he couldn''t help but look up to, someone he couldn''t help but follow and admire, someone he always wanted to chase and surpass, but couldn''t even reach in the end.

    He crossed unimaginably harsh lines of fire, and now he stands here, holding himself back.

    He had always had a belief and a reason for his actions, and this time would be no different.

    Grenouille groaned in a low voice.

    The question he''d been pushing to the back of his mind hade to the forefront of his thoughts.

    ''Am I living my life right now?''

    To produce poisonous soldiers to wipe out the opposition and make the First Prince Emperor.

    To unify the empire in the truest sense of the word, uniting seven fragmented powers into one.

    dalgeg-

    Suddenly, Grenouille felt a foreign object on his left breastbone.

    A ne. A small brooch in the shape of lips.

    It''s something he''s worn around his neck for years, but never paid much attention to.

    But today, it caught his attention unusually.

    " ... ''Straight Lips''."

    An artifact she received as a prize in the University League when he was a rookie.

    In fact, his current ranking wouldn''t have been possible if it weren''t for Vikir.

    "I used to feel bad that I got a useless artifact while everyone else got a good one."

    An artifact that tells you the truth, no matter what the question, only once, yes or no.

    The artifact was made from the lips of a sage who lived long ago and could only be asked once by a single person.

    The cooldown time is about a hundred years. It''s practically an artifact made just for Grenouille.

    "...."

    Grenouille stared at the dry lips.

    Come to think of it. He remembers a conversation he had with a ssmate when he first got this artifact.

    ''I''m the only one who does this.''

    ''Why, I think it''s a very nice artifact. I sometimes have a lot of doubts about my life. It would be nice if I could ask you about it.''

    ''...Tsk, why do you have such doubts? I''m always doing well, you should be proud of yourself!''

    Sinir. The words of the woman he once admired, smiling brightly, suddenly popped out of Grenouille''s old memories.

    "...the straight lips."

    Grenouille''s mind raced through a series of events.

    The inferiorityplex of being overshadowed by his older brothers, the pressure to live up to the family''s expectations, the tragedy of his Uncle Sakkuth, his only escape, the geniuses of the other families he met at the Academy, the small friendships that blossomed in the ranks, his rapid rise through the ranks of the main family, his appointment as a captain in charge of countless poisonous soldiers, and the task of turning countless others into poisonous people, and then war... and war....

    Grenouille looked up.

    A ck cloak hung on a rack, and a massive scythe leaned at an angle.

    Grenouille reached out, wrapped the cloak around himself, and picked up the scythe.

    Grenouille turned his head and peered into the darkness beyond.

    Inside countless cages, he could see poisonous people scraping at the bars with their teeth and nails.

    Beings who had once been human, rendered irrational by drugs and abuse and programmed to hate everything in this world.

    Grenouille turned his head.

    He lifted his hand and ced it on his left chest.

    "..., my father said. They are evil, we are good, and we, the Leviathans, will be the greatest house, and by extension, the prophets who will revive humanity. They are small sacrifices for that day, and after death, they will be saved by God and enjoy glory and power forever as heroes who stood at the forefront of the crusade."

    His mind races with thoughts.

    His father''s words, his uncle''sst appearance, his ssmates reunited on the battlefield after graduation....

    Finally, Grenouille opened his eyes as if making a judgment.

    After thinking about it three times, he finally put his hand on his left chest and asked.

    "Am I right in the judgment I am about to make?"

    Immediately, a small light emanated from Grenouille''s left chest.

    ...dalssag!

    The Straight Lips were trying to give a proper answer.

 Chapter 469: Tochka Annihilation Battle (1)

    <h4>Chapter 469: Tochka Annihtion Battle (1)</h4>

    The drinking water has run out.

    There was a sense of urgency in the Tochka Fortress.

    CindyWendi, who had unfolded the map, spoke with a serious expression.

    "We seeded in drawing water from the water source and were able to hold out for three more days, but it''s really impossible now."

    Although the influx of refugees has slowed considerably since the siege of the water source, the number of people already inside the fort is staggering.

    It''s no wonder that CindyWendy, who was responsible for providing food and water to their mouths, to feel sick.

    Meanwhile, Osiris, sitting next to her, was just as grave as she was.

    "The Leviathans havee with a n this time. They''ve got a whole bunch of poisonous people in the rock formation below the peak. More than three times as many as this side."

    Although Tochka Fortress is an iron fortress that is advantageous to water defenses, it only works in battles between a small number of people and when both sides haverge troops, the story is different.

    CindyWendy and Osiris spoke in serious tones.

    "We''re running out of water anyway, so tomorrow''s battle will be the limit, and we''ll have to settle for that."

    "All-out war, then. There''s no other option. With the numbers we have, there will be local battles,rge and small, outside of Fort Tochka. The good thing about our misfortune is that we have many excellentmanders on this side."

    The elite troops have been assembled, led by outstandingmanders such as Orca and Sade, as well as the generals and warlords of their respective houses.

    Although it was hopeless, it was a good idea to try to break through head-on.

    "What do you want to do, little brother?"

    Osiris looked up and saw Vikir standing there.

    "...."

    Vikir didn''t answer for a while.

    He just stared out the window, counting the stars in the night sky.

    "Is it starry night? Pleasee up with some kind of solution. You''re the one who said we just have to stay here!"

    CindyWendy eximed.

    Even Osiris, who would normally have stopped her, was showing a rare impatience tonight.

    It was only natural, given the circumstances.

    Right then.

    hwiiiing-

    A gust of night air blew in through the open window.

    "What?"

    "What kind of wind...."

    CindyWendy and Osiris covered their faces with their hands.

    It''s natural for a breeze like this toe in when the window is open.

    However.

    "...!"

    Vikir''s expression changed drastically.

    Vikir lightly moistened his index finger with saliva and held it upright.

    "...Southeast wind."

    Vikir opened all the windows in different directions and checked the wind direction at the same time.

    Vikir then returned to the southeast window, where he had always spent his time standing still.

    He began to look at the constetions hanging in the corner of the night sky.

    "One... two... three... four... five... six... seven...."

    The seven stars aremonly referred to as guiding stars. It''s a special constetion that can only be seen from a specific direction and has been a guide to many people since ancient times.

    hwiiiing-

    Once again, the night wind blows. This time from the southeast.

    Suddenly, CindyWendy and Osiris noticed something strange.

    ''...Come to think of it, has the wind evere in from this window before?''

    It seemed that there had never been a breeze from this window, where Vikir had always stayed.

    After realizing this trivial fact, an unexpected feeling of excitement rose in the hearts of CindyWendy and Osiris.

    "One... two... three... four... five... six... seven...."

    Vikir continued to count the stars.

    The fact that there are seven guiding stars in the northern night sky is no secret, even to the young shepherds who live around here.

    ... but.

    "one... two... three... four... five... six... seven...."

    Vikir''s third count of the stars was a little different.

    "...eight."

    The far end of the guide star. There was a single star shining blue.

    The light of the eighth star, the one that had formed after the seven guiding stars, pierced Vikir''s retinas and shone brightly.

    Vikir, who had been counting the stars in silence, finally nodded.

    "Good, that''s one more. It has settled down for sure."

    "...?"

    Vikir''s unclear words left CindyWendy and Osiris scratching their heads.

    Soon, Vikir, who had remained silent despite everyone''s encouragement and criticism, made his move.

    "Tomorrow at noon will be the final battle."

    It seemed like a sudden deration, but CindyWendy and Osiris could feel it.

    That tomorrow''s battle would be the stage that Vikir had been nning and designing for so long, the true conclusion.

    * * *

    Twelve o''clock in the zing noon sun.

    The legions of poisonous soldiers besieging Tochka have begun to move.

    Major General Orca''s face was as grim as ever as he prepared for the final defensive battle.

    With everyst drop of drinking water gone, there is no longer any hope for tomorrow.

    "I''m not even sure if we''ll make it to midnight tonight."

    "Pushishishi- There is no reason for an old man who has lived well to struggle to survive for just 12 more hours."

    Marquis de Sade scowls from beside Major General Orca.

    But unlike the corners of his mouth, which always curled upward, his eyes were not smiling.

    "Pushishishi�C there are no more troops and no more water. It''s truly an extreme situation. It''s been a long time since I''ve had a battle like this. Was it about 50 years ago? Ever since the fight with the Baskerville dogs at Salt Desert..."

    "Shut up, escaped prisoner. I''m not even remotely curious about your saga, so go talk somewhere else."

    "Eih- this could be thest time, and you still being rude."

    Marquis de Sade pouted and shut up.

    The two of them sat far away from each other on the castle pedestal and were silent for a long time.

    Finally, Orca spoke first.

    "...Die without shame."

    "Huh?"

    Sade frowned in confusion, and Orca spoke again.

    "I hate to admit it, but you''re of the same generation as me. Aside from me, you''re the only one still on active duty."

    "So?"

    "Whether you like it or not, you and I havee to represent our generation. Let''s not end it ugly."

    "Pushishishi�C take care of yourself, old man."

    "...Escaped prisoner.. At best, your advice was given in good faith."

    The two bad friends didn''t look at each other until the end.

    They just stared off into the distance, at the poisonous clouds that were turning the horizon ck.

    Then the army split in two, with Orca and Sade leading the way.

    Orca to defend and Sade to counterattack.

    The House of Morg and the House of Quovadis, specialized in defense, guarded the outer castle of Tochca under Orca''smand, while the House of Baskerville and House of Bourgeois, specialized in attack, caught the enemy off guard under themand of Sade.

    O-ooooo!

    The giant poisonous soldiers began to surge toward the walls.

    "...!"

    Orca''s brow twitched.

    The poisonous soldiers that were nowing to the forefront were all dressed in familiar attire.

    The ck blood-like robe of the iron-blooded swordsman Baskerville, the red robe of the mage Morg, the white priestly robe of the religious hymn Quovadis, and the golden cloak of the rich Bourgeois.

    These clothes, all dry and tattered, clearly took the form of ''shrouds.''

    " ... The family tombs of each family were stolen."

    The ancestors of the Baskervilles, the Morgu, the Quovadis, and the Bourgeois.

    Their corpses were being processed into poisonous soldiers, the dead soldiers of the dead.

    It was a moment of revtion, of the grave robbing that had once raged across the Empire.

    Ku-gugugugugu...

    The swordsmen of Baskerville stood at the forefront, stripped to bone, leather, and poison.

    Facing them, the spiders of the Jungle stood on Tochka''s ramparts, their fur bristling.

    Madame Hatchling nced over.

    There, a separate unit was seen moving independently without receiving instructions from Sade.

    Vikir. The person in charge of operating the separate unit.

    "...."

    Vikir was quietly watching the poisonous dead soldiers appearing at the front line in the distance.

    Rather, what was growling with the will to go on a rampage was the detachment standing behind it, and the seven hunting dogs thatmanded that detachment.

    ''Bostonterrier'' Les Baskerville, leader of the Knights of the Pit Bull.

    ''Greatdan'' Les Baskervilles, leader of the Knights of the Mastiff.

    ''Isabe'' La Baskerville, leader of the Knights of the Doberman.

    ''German'' Les Baskervilles, leader of the Knights of the Shepherds.

    ''Metzgerhund'' Les Baskervilles, leader of the Knights of the Rottweiler.

    ''Cu-Chinn'' Les Baskervilles leader of the Knights of the Wolfhounds.

    They stood still in the back, waiting for Vikir''s instructions.

    Except for the two who had been arguing loudly earlier.

    "Killing a lot is best."

    "Big kills are the best?"

    Bostonterrier, the leader of the Pit Bull, and the Greatdan, the leader of the Mastiff, had been at loggerheads since earlier.

    And Isabe, the leader of the Doberman Knights, who was looking at the two with a pitiful gaze, walked between the two and whispered to Vikir.

    "Turning the bodies of our ancestors into the undead is counterproductive. If anything, it increases ourbat power by raising their anger. This will increase our short-term firepower."

    Isabe''s judgment was cold and urate.

    Even German, the leader of the Shepherd, made the rare move of nodding in agreement with his rival.

    "I think so, too. A prolonged battle would certainly be demoralizing, but we''ve run out of water anyway. A burning thirst will be quenched by a rage that burns hotter than that."

    Meanwhile, Metzgerhund, the leader of the Rottweiler Knights, turned his head as if to say that he didn''t care.

    Instead, his gaze remained fixed on Vikir.

    "Nephew, I''ve heard your 6th Form is quite impressive, but I won''t ask how you acquired such skill. I just want to see what you''re capable of."

    "So am I. The 4th Form is my favorite sword technique. If you say that you don''t have a sense as a master... You''re lying!"

    Cu-Chinn, the leader of the Wolfhound Knights, had his gaze fixed on Vikir from earlier.

    Since they are experts who would be disappointed to be second in the 6th and 4th Form, respectively, they seemed to want to use this opportunity topare their skills with Vikir.

    The tense muscles swell to the point of bursting, and the tendons flutter violently.

    Like a rubber band pulled taut, the hounds are ready to spring at any moment.

    In the midst of all this.

    Vikir pulled something out of his bosom.

    It was a red whistle. It was the symbol of the Baskervilles'' military power.

    ...! ...! ...!

    The piercing sound of the whistle echoed through the dry air.

    kwakwang!

    The Baskervilles'' numerous fighting dogs pawed the ground and shot forward.

    ck shadows running in the sand dust. It is a very different production from the wind blowing in the barley field.

    The final battle was now beginning.

 Chapter 470: Tochka Annihilation Battle (2)

    <h4>Chapter 470: Tochka Annihtion Battle (2)</h4>

    ck shadows rise from the dust.

    The hounds of Baskerville sprint like the wind that shakes the ears of barley.

    And standing in their way are the hounds of a previous generation.

    cheolkeodeog... jeolgeuleog... deolgeuleog...

    The swordsmen of the Baskerville family, with only their skeletons and skins remaining, walk towards them with their shrouds waving.

    With each step they take, the tter of rusted metal, knocked-out teeth, and jawbones sh.

    Chaang-!

    The famous swords of the previous generation revealed their teeth that had turned into saw des.

    Isabe, German, Bostonterrier, Greatdan, Cu-Chinn, and Metzgerhund stood against him. The six Knights Commanders also drew their respective weapons.

    The Count of Bostonterrier, sword drawn, was the first to leap to the front of the disy.

    The Count of Greatdane was next.

    "Hahahahaha, old dogs with missing teeth, where are you pretending to be active duty?"

    " ... Look. These are our ancestors."

    "Yeah, well, if you''re tired, just lie down quietly and wait and then eat the ancestral rites!"

    The two sh fiercely with the Baskervilles'' dead soldiers wearing shrouds.

    The wide sh characteristic of Bostonterrier was attacking many dead soldiers at once.

    The violent, storm-like shes were irregr and chaotic, but they were just as destructive.

    In contrast, Greatdan sh is thin but dense.

    Arge, gargantuan dead soldier charged forward, relying solely on his size, only to be sliced in half by the enormous weight of Greatdan''s sh.

    Isabe and German then jumped into the fray.

    "Why don''t you go over there instead ofing over to me?"

    "Hmph, you''re just going to take all the credit for your achievements?"

    "...There is such a difference in military strength, so where is the monopoly?"

    These two people have often been told that men and women seem to have reversed.

    German began to catch up with Isabe, showing both a sense of rivalry and a sense of victimization.

    Isabe, characteristically efficient and cost-effective, began shifting the trajectory of her sword as if she were setting down a checkerboard.

    With minimal movement and aura, dozens of dead soldiers had already fallen.

    German was also disying a sword skill that was not far behind Isabe''s.

    With a strengthparable to hundreds of poisonous soldiers, the poisonous dead soldiers were copsing like scarecrows.

    Meanwhile, Metzgerhund and Cu-Chinn were closely following Vikir, the leader of the detachment, on both sides as if they were guarding him.

    "6th! Let''s go for 6th Form!"

    "4th Form! Compete with 4th Form!"

    Both of them were proud of their swordsmanship, to the point of arrogance.

    However, since the level of extreme intention has been reached, such level of mastery is to be expected.

    hwilililig- kwagig!

    Feeling the stinging gaze on his back, Vikir unfolded the 6th Form without a care in the world.

    The 6 teeth pierce through the poisonous dead soldiers without a second thought.

    Vikir''s 6th Form, honed over the years in the Hell Tree, had certainly be a formidable skill.

    peopeopeopeog!

    Of course, so was the 4th Form.

    The 4 teeth he had honed so fiercely in hisst life had paid off in this one.

    The four teeth stretched out as naturally as if he were just breathing, shredding the dead soldiers in front of him.

    "...Ooh!"

    "...Indeed!"

    Metzgerhund and Cu-Chinn watched in admiration as Vikir spat out 4th and 6th Form almost simultaneously.

    Of course, the more this happened, the more theirpetitive spirit was inmed.

    kwa-jijijijijig!

    Metzgerhund''s carnivorous appetite and Cu-Chinn''s voracious appetite were like a meat grinding mill, crushing the poisonous soldier defenses.

    Behind the Seven Counts, who are breaking through the most fiercely contested front lines as if they were in no man''snd, the hounds of Baskerville are steadily closing the distance.

    And at the forefront of it all was Vikir.

    peopeopeopeog!

    Vikir raises his magic sword, Beelzebub, and a dozen heads rain down from the sky.

    hwiiing-

    A humid southeastern wind from afar swept away the bitter blood incense.

    Just then, as Vikir was leading his detachment through the front lines, something came into view in the distance.

    "...!"

    Skinny giant bodies emerging through red fog and dust.

    O-oooooh...

    It was a unit of tall, poisonous soldiers over a dozen meters tall.

    Their muscles and skeletons deteriorated from their obsession with height, but their grotesquely elongated arms could reach over the walls of Tochka when stretched out.

    They walked slowly from beyond the lines, exhaling a red mist of death from the sweat pores of their bodies.

    They were probably specially designed to attack Tochka''s high walls.

    ''...If we let those things get close to the walls, it''ll be a headache for the defense.''

    I''m sure Major General Orca will take care of it, but it would be best to minimize the burden on Tochka''s own nature.

    There are refugees there to protect.

    ''Fortunately, their poorly constructed skeletons will slow their approach. We''d better cut them down before they reach the walls.

    Vikir made a quick judgment call.

    "Let''s hit those giants over there first!"

    "Yes!"

    The seven counts sheathed their swords and turned on their heels at Vikir''smand.

    The seven hundred knights following them did the same.

    Vikir had just crossed the battlefield at the head of a small army.

    But then, he heard a cacklingugh from the side.

    "Pushishishi- where are you running so hard? I envy your youth."

    Vikir turned his head to see an old man standing on a tall outcropping of rock off to the side.

    Marquis de Sade, he appeared like a ghost, without warning.

    Behind him were the Nouvelle Vague all-stars: D''Ordume, Souare, BDISSEM, Flubber, and Kirko.

    Even the demonized Sady.

    Vikir asked in a tone of disbelief.

    "...What''s thebination, are you under arrest or something?"

    "Pushishishi- no joke. I borrowed it from the old man, Orca. It''s better in small numbers to strike back."

    Marquis de Sadeughs as if it''s no big deal, even as he berates the wardens who once imprisoned him.

    Behind him, of course, D''Orduem and Suoare''s expressions are utterly rotten.

    Especially the expression of Souare, who was in charge of the solitary confinement cell where Marquis de Sade was being held, was quite something to behold.

    Marquis de Sade asked.

    "Anyway, were you on your way to the walls?"

    "Yes. It''s going to be a pain in the ass if those big things get stuck on the walls."

    "Pushishishi �C you''re quick to judge, and urate."

    Marquis de Sade and Vikir, both masters of tactics, were right on the spot.

    Just as he was about to turn away, Marquis de Sade''s gaze fell upon the six men and women standing behind Vikir.

    "Hoo �C I wonder where all this young lifees from. Are you the new Seven Counts of House Baskerville?"

    The six men and women''s brow furrowed in unison at the word ''young''.

    Bostonterrier, Greatdan, Isabe, German Shepherd, Metzgerhund, and Cu-Chinn all turned toward Marquis de Sade, their sharp killing intent spraying in a show of dominance.

    "Ugh, aren''t you a little old for the battlefield, old man? I think you''re closer to the dead soldiers standing there than we are."

    "Hey, no disrespect to the old man, I''m sure he''s got a lot of courageing out of the back room."

    "There''s nothing to discuss with you, you''rebeled a top-ss war criminal by the Empire, and we''ll put you back in the buns when the civil war is over."

    "It''s disgusting how prisonersunder their image. Consider yourself lucky, old man."

    "Marquis de Sade, the old monster. A perfect opponent to test my newfound advanced form of carnivory."

    "... A powerhouse. I want to fight him."

    Marquis de Sade smirked as he watched the seven counts posture for battle.

    "The older the puppies are, the more they bark. There is no particr character in this generation''s Baskervilles. Except for that old man, CaneCorso... ...."

    Just then.

    peopeopeopeopeong!

    A loud boom erupted from the walls.

    "...!"

    Vikir and Marquis de Sade, who were approaching the wall, stopped in their tracks at the same time.

    One after another, the tall poisonous soldiers who had just reached for the castle gates copsed.

    Below them, a dark storm was blowing in, severing their ankles.

    "Hmmm �C there''s someone quite useful over there, who is it?"

    Marquis de Sade is interested.

    The troops guarding the lower part of the castle walls, cutting off the ankles of the poisonous soldiers, soon began to approach.

    Eventually, the being standing at the forefront of the ck wind appeared in front of Vikir.

    "We heard the red whistle, but we were still a littlete in gathering. I don''t want to use my age as an excuse, but this is getting old...But."

    At the sound of his voice, Vikir couldn''t help but look surprised.

    The immactely pressed suit, the handsome mustache, and the polite greeting.

    "...Really. You''ve really grown up, Master."

    Deacon John Barrymore was there.

 Chapter 471: Tochka Annihilation Battle (3)

    <h4>Chapter 471: Tochka Annihtion Battle (3)</h4>

    The battle bes increasingly fierce.

    The hands of the clock that held Tochka''s fate slowly descended, pointing to four in the afternoon.

    jjeoeog-

    A giant poisonous soldier is cut in half.

    Deacon Barrymore, who saw the Marquis de Sade whipping the whip and shaking off the blood, pped his hands and said.

    "You still do great work."

    "Pushishishi- still? Do you remember my old skills?"

    "To be honest, I''ve seen more of it in books and papers than with the naked eye, but it''s still more than recorded."

    John Barrymore, loyal to House Baskerville for four generations, said as he sliced through a number of poisonous soldiers with the sword in his hand.

    "It''s strange."

    "What do you mean?"

    "What I mean is that right now I, no, all of us gathered here-are now under yourmand. It is amazing that people who once fought over the fate of the empire are now joining hands."

    Deacon Barrymore was answering Marquis de Sade''s questions while knocking down poisonous soldier one after another with an undisturbed attitude.

    Vikir, meanwhile, watched, his mouth slightly agape.

    "I didn''t realize that the butler had such great sword skills."

    "Hehehehe- I''ve always been good at dogfighting. When I was younger, I often fought with the patriarch, though I had a slightly better chance of winning back then."

    In fact, he''d once heard the elders of Baskerville say of Barrymore, in passing, ''That bastard became a man back then''.

    ''Is it a case of getting older and milder?''

    It''s hard to imagine that now, looking at his bushy mustache.

    Vikir thought as he sliced open the head of the giant poisonous man in front of him like a watermelon.

    Meanwhile, Barrymore''s eyes were filled with admiration.

    "You have indeed grown up, Master. I still remember that day when you was choosing chocte from the food warehouse... I''m sure the patriarch will be pleased."

    "...."

    At the mention of patriarch, Vikir turned his head in silence.

    Where is Hugo now that the full force of the Baskervilles is here?

    Then, catching Vikir''s gaze, Barrymore smiled casually.

    "My lord has gathered all of his regr troops and is heading straight this way. He''s a bitte since he''s on his way through the Civil War, so he''s a bit slower than the other troops who took a detour...."

    Then.

    kwakwakwakwang!

    A loud explosion erupted that obscured the conversation between Vikir and Deacon Barrymore.

    A poisonous man tore in an odd direction, and irritated voices shed on both sides.

    "How dare you stab me, you lunatic!"

    Sady. She screamed sharply, demonized by Belial''s eyeballs.

    And in the direction her axe-eyes squinted, she could see another woman standing.

    "Ah, I''m sorry. I didn''t realize you were human, not with all that demonic energy spewing out of you. Watch out for the blind sword."

    Isabe La Baskerville is the woman offering Saadi an apology that isn''t really an apology.

    The leader of the Doberman knights of the Baskerville family, she struck again, cutting down the poisonous soldiers.

    It was an inconsiderate sh, despite the fact that Sady was right next to her.

    Sady ducked her head to avoid Isabe''s sword and growled through sharp teeth.

    "Ohora-you''re still a bitch, you vile bitch, trying to get rid of me with a blind stab."

    "Then you''re still a wretch, too, though I suppose that''s to be expected from a traitor''s blood."

    "Hohoho �C why would you rmend such a traitorous bloodline to the Imperial Captive, let alone as your sessor?"

    "It is the regret of a lifetime that I allowed a person like you to take over. A stain."

    Isabe seemed to be trying to wipe away a stain on her life in the midst of a battle.

    Sady, of course, was just as eager to kill her former superior.

    Just then.

    ...Pow!

    A rock spear suddenly protruded from the ground, separating Sady and Isabe.

    The poisonous soldier thrown to the sky and was nailed in the air without even touching the ground.

    A mocking voice mocked them as they retreated, each losing a few strands of hair.

    "What a waste. I wish you were both dead."

    Where Sady and Isabe''s gazes turned, Souare stood.

    The three women''s gazes met in one ce.

    "Hohoho �C what kind of Themiscyra Women''s College reunion is this? Three of our ssmates have gathered, haven''t we?"

    "ssmates? You trash bitches, don''t you dare mention my alma mater''s name."

    "It''s good to see my old dorm roommates after all these years. Life in the deep sea was so lonely that I didn''t like it."

    Sady, Isabe, and Souare.

    Three ssmates who graduated with honors from Themiscyra Women College and went their separate ways.

    One became an empire-shaking viin, the other became a countess who supported the great family, and thest one became a symbol of protecting the worst prison.

    ...but.

    These three people, who thought they''d never see each other again after their paths diverged, are now in the same ce, doing the same thing.

    It is the struggle to survive.

    jjeoeog-

    One by one, the giant poisonous soldiers copsed, and smaller poisonous soldiers took their ce.

    As the bodies pile up, the ground rises, and the Red Death grows ever more powerful.

    The hour hand now points to 6, and the poisonous soldiers are even more numerous.

    Or maybe it just seems that way because they have fewer allies.

    "...."

    Vikir was still at the forefront, silently shing at the poisonous soldiers.

    There was no telling how long the priests'' blessing wouldst.

    Just then.

    Vikir spotted a familiar face not far away.

    An elderly Baskerville. They had met a few times before and after the regression.

    The hound was the same age as his master, Hugo.

    ''Was his name Pavlov?''

    He remembered, as he was one of the more long-lived of those with the same middle name.

    Pavlov Van Baskerville.

    He struck down the poisonous soldiers with a sword whose teeth had been chipped away and turned into saw des.

    Kwazik-.

    The sword, wielded like a sharpened blunt instrument, dented the poisonous soldier''s head rather than severed it.

    Doesn''t he even have a handful of mana left for his aura now?

    Vikir was just about to move to help Pavlov.

    ...peoeog!

    A spear from the front pierced Pavlov''s abdomen.

    "Hey!"

    Vikir rushed forward and supported Pavlov''s limp head.

    "Don''t lose your grip!"

    Vikir shouts urgently, but Pavlov just stares at him.

    Then, his mouth curves into an arc.

    "You''re a good man, you are."

    "...."

    "But that''s okay. I go about my business, you do yours."

    With that, Pavlov took onest deep breath.

    He exhaled with all the force he could muster.

    "High-ranking Leviathan appears on the front lines!"

    It was a loud cry that reached the ears of everyone on the battlefield.

    "...!"

    All eyes, including Vikir''s, turned to the front.

    Up ahead, the fog was red, thicker than any other.

    And the figure emerging from the fog was one Vikir recognized.

    2nd Corpse, uros. Also known as the ''lying leopard''.

    Its left hand had grown grotesquely long, and it smirked down at Vikir.

    It was obvious that this was the same evil beast that had thrown the spear at Pavlov a moment ago.

    [You are finished].

    Leading a vast army of poisonous man, uros looked past Vikir to the walls of Tochka beyond.

    [It''s a miracle you''vested this long without a sip of water. But no matter how much you whine at God, the limits are clear. Now the moment hase to realize reality, bugs.]

    Perhaps if it weren''t for thatst demeaning remark, there might have been quite a few humans sympathizing with uros.

    Suddenly, a staggering number of poisonous soldiers began to push through the lines.

    "Fall back! Fall back, everyone! Get inside the castle and lock the doors!"

    Marquis de Sade shouts in an unusually urgent tone.

    Major General Orca, guarding the walls, gritted his teeth.

    And then.

    peopeopeopeong!

    An army of giant poisonous soldiers began to hang down, holding on to the castle.

    The smaller poisonous soldiers were crawling on the backs of therger ones, climbing up the walls.

    "Douse them with oil! Light the fires! Pour out all the gunpowder you have! Archers and stokers, hit all the stocks! There is no point in saving anything!"

    Orca and Sade''s orders were met.

    Everyone in Tochka blocked the approaching army of poisonous soldiers.

    ...But it was not enough.

    The poisonous soldiers scaled the walls by the dozen, their corpses forming a massive formation.

    The wall was now a gently sloping climb.

    "...It''s over."

    CindyWendy muttered in a cracked voice as she watched the whole scene from the watchtower.

    She hadn''t had a sip of water in several days, and she was beginning to feel defeated.

    Of course, it was also something that everyone on the front lines was feeling more and more clearly and tangibly.

    peoeog!

    Tudor staggered back, red blood gushing from his forehead.

    Now the saint''s tears were losing their power.

    The banners that had flown everywhere had long since been torn to shreds.

    The faces of the knights are darkened.

    The priests, too, have begun to weep instead of chant.

    The poisonous soldier heads were sticking out one by one in front of the castle wall, which was overflowing with evil spirits and the Red Death.

    "...Is this really the end?"

    Even the most glorious and colorful epic muste to an end.

    Tudor smirked through blurred vision.

    The thought crossed his mind that the end of his life wouldn''t be so bad after all the ck and red.

    ... That was it.

    Ttag!

    A small noise pierced Tudor''s ears.

    It was heard as clearly as a miracle even amidst all the explosions and tearing noises.

    tta-ag!

    The noise is heard again.

    It was the sound of small rocks flying.

    It flew out of thin air and struck the poisonous soldier in the forehead as it stuck its head out of the city wall.

    "...?"

    Tudor turned his head.

    Then he squinted his eyes, which refused to open.

    badeulbadeul...

    There was a girl, her whole body trembling like a withered tree, but she wasn''t backing down at all.

    Tudor remembered her face and her name.

    -''My name is Sammua! Can you tell me the name of the benefactor?''

    -''My name is Tudor. Nost name.''

    The girl he''d saved from a small country town he''d stopped in one day.

    ''Shammua'', amon name that means ''God has heard''.

    Now she was standing on the city walls, throwing stones at the poisonous people.

    "Tudor-nim, I will help too!"

    Tudor''s eyes widened at the girl''s cry.

    Bianca sarcastically sat next to him.

    "When did you flirt?"

    "You think so! It''s dangerous, we need to get her to back off... Huh!?"

    But Tudor couldn''t put his words into action.

    He couldn''t turn his words into action, because he was faced with the solemn expressions of the family members who appeared behind the girl.

    And behind the family was an entire vige.

    And behind them, all the refugees who had flocked to Tochka stood with indignant faces.

    "Let us fight too!"

    "We can''t just stay under protection!"

    "One man can do his share!"

    "I''m a veteran after all!"

    "I will repay you for sharing food and water!"

    "Protect the Night Walkers!"

    All the refugees who had been inside Tochka up to this point began to pour out.

    The men picked up their heads, long spears, and whatever rocks they could find.

    Women nursed the wounded and fetched the drinking water they had saved despite extreme starvation.

    Tochka, an iron fortress, is structured so that one girl can defend against 100 soldiers.

    The poisonous soldier, who thought they might have climbed over the castle wall, began to fall again due to the shower of raindrops and slings.

    "...! ...! ...!"

    Some light returned to CindyWendy''s eyes, who was in charge of all supply and procurement on the watchtower.

    The embers of a fire that had been thought to bepletely extinguished had been reignited.

    It was the beginning of a counterattack that no one had expected.

 Chapter 472: Tochka Annihilation Battle (4)

    <h4>Chapter 472: Tochka Annihtion Battle (4)</h4>

    It only takes one man to throw a single stone.

    Arge number of people climbed the walls of Tochka and began to throw stones as hard as they could.

    Tochka is a fortress built on a rocky area. The thing rolling around in the ground is a stone.

    An enormous number of stones.

    Tired of fleeing the harsh wheels of fate, tattered by hard lives and umted abandonment, their anger elerates down the high walls of Tochka Fortress.

    hududug- hududug- hududug- hududug-

    Needless to say, the destructive force was immense.

    peopeopeopeopeopeopeopeog!

    The poisonous soldiers climbing the walls tumbled down, their heads cracked and exploded.

    The shower of falling rocks, as powerful as the hail from Andrealphus, was slowing the poisonous soldiers'' general assault.

    "Now! Tighten up left and right!"

    Marquis de Sade and Orca realized that this was theirst chance to counterattack, a chance that would note again.

    Soon, the two veterans led theirst remaining troops out and began pressing the poisonous soldiers on the left and right nks, where the falling rocks could not reach them.

    Vikir, too, was leading a small army to corner the poisonous soldiers.

    The battle was fiercer than any battlefield they had ever seen.

    It was the bloodiest battle before and after the Regression.

    peoeog-

    Vikir thought to himself as he blew the head off a giant poisonous soldier that stood in his way.

    ''... We must seize the momentum and take the demon''s head.''

    It was the only way to end the war.

    Vikir led the Seven Counts and the Seven Knights through the countless streams of the poisonous soldiers.

    Poisonous blood flowers bloomed all along the front lines where the hounds dug deep, and countless heads rolled in the dust.

    ...kwakwang!

    The poisonous soldiers grab the ground with their giant palms and tear it apart.

    Vikir ducks to the side, out of the way of the poisonous soldier palm that falls directly in front of him.

    Thwack!

    The poisonous soldier''s chest split in two, releasing a fountain of dark blood.

    Just then.

    "...!"

    Vikir felt goosebumps burning up the back of his neck.

    It wasn''t an umon sensation on the battlefield, just a sign that the enemy was attacking from behind.

    Normally, he would have simply flung himself to the side to avoid it.

    ... But the truly unusual experience was about to begin.

    peo-eog!

    With a dull noise, the chill on the back of his neck disappeared.

    The poisonous soldier that had been reaching for him from behind was dead.

    Vikir turned his head to see who had killed the poisonous soldier, but it was impossible.

    Even at this moment, there were countless poisonous soldiers in full bloom in front of him.

    jjeoeog- jjeog! peoeog! deng-geong-

    Vikir extended his magic sword, Beelzebub, and shed at the poisonous soldiers in front of him.

    And as he did, one strange thing after another happened.

    ...! ...! ...! ...! ...! ...!

    The poisonous soldiersing behind Vikir were continuously being defeated.

    ''Someone''s backing me up.''

    Vikir nced behind him, but he couldn''t make out who was behind him in the rapidly shifting vision and the shower of blood and rocks that sprayed everywhere.

    [Hmm �C It''s so fast I can''t see it clearly?]

    Even Dekarabia hadn''t figured out who the helpers currently guarding Vikir''s back were.

    Only.

    peopeog! kung! ujijijig!

    One thing is for sure, Vikir''s back is being supported in near-perfect support.

    ''Who is it? Camus? Aiyen? Dolores? Sinir? Kirko?''

    But they were already far away, across the battlefield.

    The Seven Counts and Seven Knights who had been following close behind had also long since fallen behind, at the edge of their physical limits.

    ''...I guess we''ll just have to trust them.''

    Vikir decided to take a chance on his mysterious assistant, who had been watching his back without making a single mistake so far.

    ...sh!

    Vikir bared his eight teeth at the giant poisonous soldier that appeared before him.

    Just then.

    teoeog- kkigigig!

    Vikir''s hand stopped in midair.

    Surprisingly, a poisonous soldier appeared to counter Vikir''s sword.

    A grotesquely contorted creature, its entire body twisted.

    Vikir recognized it immediately.

    "...The eldest son of House Leviathan. S��skind."

    Once a promising young man, the next great talent, the one who would carry the empire in the future.

    But now he''d long since been reduced to a grotesquely contorted, poisonous demon.

    Thud!

    S��skind, still standing after being struck by Vikir''s blow... No, what was once S��skind.

    It pushed against Vikir''s sword with its mouth gaping wide open in a disy of incredible strength and regeneration.

    ''This thing''s size and regenerative power... It won''t be easy.''

    Vikir furrowed his brow and tried to increase his power.

    ...beonjjeog!

    A blow retraced the same trajectory that Vikir''s blow had traveled just moments ago.

    The Baskerville 8th Form.

    Eight teeth fell straight onto the marks Vikir had made.

    kwakwakwakwang!

    The massive flesh of S��skind shattered and scattered on the spot.

    And in the shower of flesh and blood that followed, Vikir realized who had stood behind him all this time.

    ck blood blowing in the wind, red eyes as if looking into a mirror.

    And the beard that grew from not being able to be shaved while running through the battlefield.

    The lord of Baskerville, the iron-blooded swordsman. Master of all hounds.

    Hugo Le Baskerville was there.

    Father and son, facing each other with eight teeth bared.

    Neither Vikir nor Hugo spoke as they looked into each other''s faces.

    "...."

    "...."

    Hugo was the first to break the silence.

    Charak-

    He swung the famous sword ''Balmung'' returned from the Bourgeois family once and shook off the blood.

    Then, nonchntly, he spoke, like the sound of the wind, a mere whisper, leaving no trace.

    "You''ve grown up, and I haven''t done anything for you."

    Vikir paused at the words.

    He wanted to say something, but he didn''t know what.

    "...."

    That was the end of the brief silence.

    Hugo opened his mouth to say something more, but then shut it and turned away.

    He had reached the 8th Form, which he hadn''t realized he had reached.

    kwa-kwakwakwakwang!

    A strike that split the sky and earth at the same time swept through the poisonous soldier.

    Vikir quickly realized that now was not the time for distractions.

    Soon, father and son were back to back, swinging their swords.

    Where Vikir''s sword shed, Hugo stabbed through the gap.

    Vikir shed through the rest of the gap where Hugo''s sword had gone through.

    On the battlefield, the presence or absence of someone you can trust with your back is crucial.

    As the tide of battle slowly turned, there was an awkward, ethereal silence between the two men, a silence that was more than blood and flesh.

    Just then.

    [Hahahaha-]

    Augh rises from the battlefield beyond.

    Vikir recognized its owner at a nce.

    uros. The source of all evil.

    His eyes glowed as he grinned at Vikir.

    [Rampage, my poison is infinite!]

    As if to prove his point, uros pulled up behind him, a massive carriage behind him.

    A carriage with a ck barracks on top.

    It was the poison recharging station Vikir had seen on his way to im the water source.

    O-ooooooh!

    One by one, the poisonous soldiers began to withdraw from the walls of Tochka Fortress.

    Presumably to enter the ck barracks behind them to gain more power and poison.

    [With this, the number of poisonous soldiers can be infinitely increased! My poison can even raise the dead!]

    uros shouted in a confident voice.

    ...but not before the barracks exploded with a loud boom.

    kwakwakwakwakwakwang!

    A barracks where poisonous soldiers recharge their wasted poison.

    It was now engulfed in mes.

    And in real time!

    "...?"

    Vikir scratched his head in confusion.

    Why would a poison charging station explode at this point?

    But that seemed to be more of a question for uros.

    His expression was extremely contorted as he turned around in surprise.

    [What, what!? Why is my Uroboros...!?]

    Suddenly, Vikir and uros'' eyes met a familiar face.

    The Harvester. Grenouille De Leviathan, the youngest of House Leviathan.

    He was standing in front of a shattered jar with a sad expression under the burning curtain of the barracks.

    Inside the jar, which had once contained the two serpents ''Uroboros'', the red death-making serpents, the oil boiling with tremendous momentum, spewed out a puff of extremely hot steam.

    ''Sometimes I have a lot of doubts about whether I am living well.''

    ''...tch, why do you have such doubts? I''m always doing well, a man should be proud!''

    Spotting Sinir''s face in the crowd of Vikir''spanions, Grenouille muttered in a daze.

    "...Yes. A man should be proud."

    The voice sounded like it wasing from a distant memory.

    Sinir shook her head.

    ...chwaag!

    Two snakes jumped out of the boiling oil.

    Despite the horrific burns that fried their bodies, the Uroboros summoned thest of their strength and grabbed the dazed Grenouille by the throat, dragging him into the jar.

    wasisisisisi-

    Hot oil bubbled out of therge jar.

    Soon there was nothing but silence in the barracks.

    As uros watched the barracks burn, he cried out in horror.

    [No way! How dare this bastard betray...!?]

    What an outrageous, outrageous turn of events.

    A truly unexpected and absurd event.

    "...Last time, I only took your arm."

    His voice was eerily cold.

    "This time, I want your neck, too."

    This was because Vikir had caught up with him before he knew it.

 Chapter 473: Tochka Annihilation Battle (5)

    <h4>Chapter 473: Tochka Annihtion Battle (5)</h4>

    "This time, stick your neck out."

    The voice echoed in his ears, and uros turned to reveal his true colors.

    A skeletal leopard''s face, a mane of dark mes, and eyes that burned like sulfurous fire.

    <''2nd Corpse'' uros>

    Danger Rating : S+

    Size: ?

    Found in: Serpent''s Womb, Deep within the Gate of Destruction

    -Also known as ''Second Corpse''.

    One of the Ten gues, the natural enemy of mankind, iprehensible and unkible.

    "I will turn the water into blood."

    �C The Ten Commandments 10:Top �C

    The Second Corpse uros. The Lying Leopard.

    A being who held the second highest position among the protagonists who led the Age of Destruction.

    The prey that Vikir had set as his ultimate goal for this battle was there.

    ...sh!

    Eight teeth bit into thin air.

    [Huh!?]

    uros jumped back in horror.

    With the Original Uroboros destroyed by Grenouille, he had no weapon to fight against Beelzebub.

    Huuug!

    uros took a deep breath and released a poisonous fog on an enormous scale.

    Red death, an ominous mist that turned the water red, spewed out from uros''s mouth.

    However.

    [Hack hack-]

    The baby Madam that popped out from behind Vikir sucked in all of the red death evil spirit that uros spat out with a single inhtion.

    [Did you see that damn spider!]

    uros gritted his teeth and sprayed even more Red Death, but to no avail.

    This was because five women appeared on Madam Baby''s back.

    "Vikir-nim!"

    Camus, Aiyen, Dolores, Sinir, and Kirko. Dolores, the foremost of them all, cast a spell over Vikir.

    White holy power erupted, burning away the red death.

    The priests of the Faithfulunched a massive counterattack.

    Madame Baby''s descendants also gathered together and began to eat the Red Death.

    The Red Death evil spirits that had been rampaging across the battlefield were gradually being consumed by the enemy, the spiders of the ck Mountains, and the priests of Faithful Quovadis.

    Without the Original Uroboros, no more Red Deaths were being produced, and the end was slowlying.

    The water mist cleared, revealing uros''s bewildered form beyond.

    Vikir is right behind him.

    A chance for a stroke of luck was not to be missed.

    ...jjeojeog!

    The 4th Form, deployed as quickly as possible, sliced deeply into uros''s chest.

    One could see the beating heart peeking through the smoothly cut ribs.

    After that, numerous attacks wereunched.

    Camus'' fireballs and giant iron skewers, Aiyen''s heavy arrow, Sinir''s golden golem, and Kirko''s magic sword, Asmodeus, bombarded uros in quick session.

    uros''s body tattered in the mes.

    On top of that, Vikir''s 8th Form ck Sun had already sealed off every direction uros could escape.

    uros began to grind his teeth as the situation came to this.

    [...If it weren''t for that damned Grenouille, how could he doubt my word?]

    uros wondered inwardly how Grenouille could have recognized the lie that was his power.

    Vikir, of course, did not feel the need to answer the question. He didn''t even know the answer.

    jjeog- deng-geong!

    Both uros''s left and right arms were torn off.

    Vikir dug his fingers into uros''s heart and said.

    "I told you not to underestimate this world."

    Every cause and effect he had ever encountered. The totality of organic things.

    The gigantic wheel of cause and effect they created would not be easy for even the most powerful demon to deal with.

    And here is a pilgrim who has walked the hardest and loneliest thorny path of all, one that has been rolling since the wheel of asceticism was very small.

    Vikir. The Regressor. A hound who went through another life in the underworld.

    It bites at the nape of its prey''s neck, even beyond the ends of Hell, even beyond the bending of time.

    Puugk-

    A fountain of blood erupts from uros''s neck.

    Vikir shoved the Baalzebub into uros'' neck and twisted it with all his might.

    wadeudeug!

    The sound of tearing through the hard pelt and snapping the tough muscle fibers within.

    Furthermore, the heavy, dense bones broke apart, and all the bundles within were ripped out.

    Chwaaaag-

    By the time Vikir pulled out Beelzebub, uros''s neck and body had already been separated.

    uros, who hadpletely melted into Hobbes'' flesh after so much time, had to be beheaded before he could even get his spirit body out of his body.

    ...Thud! deguldeguldegul-

    uros''s head rolled on the floor.

    A bizarre appearance, with Hobbes'' face and uros'' face mixed together.

    For a being who had caused both an Imperial civil war and a two dimensional race war, his words were quite hollow.

    "...."

    Vikir stared at the sliced demon on the battlefield.

    Although there were still arge number of poisonous soldiers remaining on the battlefield, they had lost their leader and were dying out on their own.

    The ragtag group, stomping each other to death, were like straw men to Marquis de Sade and Major General Orca.

    As soon as the Tochka Alliance gained momentum andunched a counterattack, the poisonous soldiers crumbled.

    A struggle of all against all. It was the demons'' value of life.

    The remnants of the Leviathan''s forces, too, had been forced to do as they were told.

    In thenguage of solitary beings with no concept of kin orpanions.

    One man with a brain tried to rally the poisonous soldiers, who still constituted the overwhelming majority.

    [Bite the troops! After retreating, regroup... kugh!?]

    Thomas, the second son of the Leviathan family, rolled on the ground with an arrow in his neck as he led the remaining troops in retreat.

    Bianca''s arrow, followed by Tudor spears and Sancho''s axe.

    "Piggy''s enemy!"

    "I will never forgive you!"

    "I will not let one of you go!"

    The fall of the Leviathan.

    Starting with the death of Hobbes de Leviathan, who was like a symbol, the disy of extreme poisonous dark master rapidly copsed.

    The giant poisonous soldiers begin to lose their minds and go on a rampage, and the minions are rapidly weakening.

    Vikir looked down upon the scene and realized that the long war wasing to an end.

    [...huhuhu.]

    If it weren''t for a muffled mockery from the ground.

    Where Vikir turned his head was the head of uros.

    Like Andromalius before him, uros was still alive, with only his head remaining.

    But Vikir hadn''t let his guard down.

    "Demons kill."

    Always on the edge of action. A hunter always ready.

    uros spoke in a humorous tone to Vikir, who was immediately raising his killing intent.

    [Rx, you can''t kill me anyway].

    What nonsense. There''s no point in ying to the opponent''s tongue when the game is already won.

    Knowing that one must be careful with demonic tongues, especially uros''s, Vikir saw no reason to stop his sword.

    But. uros''s words that followed were enough to make even a man with steel veins and a furnace heart stop in his tracks.

    [The moment you kill me, the ''Age of Destruction'' will arrive.]

    Not one of those gathered here truly knew what the Age of Destruction was.

    Except for Vikir.

    uros continued to click his tongue, knowing that only Vikir would be the one to talk.

    [Before battle. I twist my lifeline, the cord of my life, long and tight, and tie it to the rings of the Gate of Destruction. If it were to break, the gates would naturally open].

    The Demon World. The Oil World. The Gate to Pr Hell.

    Vikir remembered well the day it opened.

    Theing destruction, the approaching apocalypse, the sum total of all these terrible things, the world of human and demons.

    [Do you think you are the only one whoid a trap for the future? In fact, if that''s the case, this one is one step above.]

    "...."

    A cold sweat runs down his face. His hands were trembling, even if only slightly.

    uros is a demon who specializes in deceiving others with lies. Should he believe anything uros says now?

    ... But what if, just what if, this is not a lie?

    What if killing him really does open the Gate of Destruction?

    Even at this very moment, as Vikir pondered, uros was slowly vaporizing his body.

    It seemed like he was nning to turn into the red mist of death itself and run away.

    [Didn''t I tell you from the beginning that your efforts would be in vain?]

    uros said with a wide grin.

    The smile that was in full bloom was thick with malice that could not be hidden.

    Tsutsutsutsuts...

    uros''s body grew paler and paler.

    In just a few seconds, he''ll bepletely gone from this ce.

    Kill him here and now, or let him escape, that was the question.

    At a crossroads where neither option was eptable.

    Sereung-

    Vikir drew his sword.

    To be deceived or not to be deceived.

    Now was the time to make a decision.

 Chapter 474: Knowing the Fate of My Father (1)

    <h4>Chapter 474: Knowing the Fate of My Father (1)</h4>

    A severed head is terrible.

    [Didn''t I tell you from the beginning that your efforts are in vain?]

    "...."

    [It is impossible to kill me at this time, give up, Demon Hunter].

    uros continued to click his tongue.

    Truth or lies. To know and be deceived, or to pretend not to know and charge ahead.

    Camus, standing beside Vikir, gritted her teeth.

    "Hey, is what he''s saying true? Does his death really open the gates of destruction or something?"

    The answer came from two sources.

    Seere, trembling on Camus''s shoulder, and Dekarabia, clinging to Vikir''s chest.

    [uros is a being of the power of deception, so we don''t know if the words are true or not].

    [... But I''d say it''s likely, he''s cunning].

    In other words, even fellow demons can''t tell if uros'' words are false or true.

    Faced with a choice, a crossroads, Vikir hesitated.

    Should he let uros go, or should he kill him, knowing that it would open the Gate of Destruction?

    Even now, uros was escaping slowly, his head like water vapor.

    Sweat dripped from his face like molten lead.

    Vikir clenched his teeth so hard they might break.

    ... Just then.

    "Do what you want."

    A heavy voice came from behind Vikir''s back.

    Hugo. He cast a dark shadow over Vikir''s back.

    "Son."

    He called to Vikir.

    Vikir didn''t turn.

    But Hugo continued.

    "A father is responsible for his children, even if they make the wrong choices."

    Vikir thought the words were very refreshing.

    When he finished, Hugo muttered to himself, ''It''s funny to say this, but since when did I be a father?''

    Then.

    gigigig-

    There was the sound of feet scraping the ground.

    "Now, wait!"

    Vikir whirled around, but it was toote.

    ...sh!

    Hugo swung his sword.

    A powerful strike flew out and struck the ground.

    It was where the head of uros, who was almost ready to flee, was.

    [Kkeuaaaaagh!]

    A tearing scream rang out.

    A merciless blow severed the demon''sst hold.

    Vikir''s mouth hung half open as he watched uros'' head shatter into pieces.

    Demons kill. Vikir would probably have made the same choice, given a little more time.

    But Vikir had been granted a suspension of disbelief for a choice that carried great responsibility.

    By the hand of Hugo, a man he had never considered a father.

    It was as if he had unintentionally made a fool of himself.

    "...."

    "...."

    Vikir and Hugo''s gazes meet.

    A gap whereplex thoughts flow.

    Everyone gathered in that ethereal atmosphere was speechless.

    ...Just then.

    Grumble! Kwakwang!

    Suddenly, a wing fell on the dry sky.

    Dark clouds gathered, and a pir of red light appeared in the sky.

    It was a huge and massive red line.

    The red curve, which seemed to be round, soon began to form an intricate geometric pattern in the center.

    And Vikir recognized it at once for what it was.

    "The Gate of Destruction!"

    The words uros had spoken before his death were true.

    He had opened the Gate of Destruction, even as he shouldered a burden so great that it amounted to nothing less than annihtion, and he had woven his life into a cord to keep it closed.

    And now that uros''s lifeline ispletely severed, the seal is broken and the gate is opened, as nned.

    A gate that was summoned by a High Ranking Demon at the cost of his life.

    Perhaps by now, uros''s soul would be in a terrible state of agony for all eternity, with a penalty far worse than annihtion, but... none of that matters now.

    The Gate of Destruction had been opened.

    Vikir barely suppressed a frantic shudder that ran through his body.

    The rainy season of fear would soon begin.

    The long rainy season that signaled the end of the world.

    The final weapon of the demons that had inflicted the greatest and most horrific damage on the human alliance by wiping out 98% of the living.

    Endless, never-ending rains of fire, winds of fire, thunderbolts of fire, and floods of fire.

    The searing raindrops that would fall on the earth and sky, scorching everything in their path.

    The grass and trees of the mountains will burn, the forests will be reduced to ashen deserts, the oceans andkes will boil over and turn into wastnds, and every living, breathing thing will be burned to death or dried up.

    The great flood of fire that will flood for the next 150 days will wipe out all remaining life.

    "... Was that real?"

    "A portal of this magnitude, the Hell Tree is nothingpared."

    "I''ve never seen such terrible magic before! An overwhelming sense of foreboding...."

    "I can''t believe it. I can''t believe such a thing exists."

    "It makes Nouvelle Vague seem like a cradle."

    Camus, Aiyen, Dolores, Sinir, and Kirko can''t believe their eyes when they see the giant portal being drawn in the sky above them.

    This is what it means to see with your own eyes and not believe.

    Just then.

    ...Quack!

    The entire sky began to shake violently.

    Vikir shouted like a thunderbolt.

    "Herees the first explosion!"

    Before he regressed, he clearly remembered the moment the Gate of Destruction opened.

    First, the gate would open, a huge amount of hellfire inside will pour out.

    The instantaneous firepower is enough to reduce tens of thousands of soldiers to a handful of ashes in an instant.

    The Gate of Destruction that appeared here now was certainly powerful enough to do just that.

    Crouching.

    The gate slowly opened.

    The crowd was stunned by the heat already emanating from it.

    "...It''s hot."

    "Pushishishi- We''re already thirsty, and now we''re going to burn to death?"

    Even Orca and Sade could not fight back against the Gate of Destruction that appeared in the sky.

    Even CindyWendy, standing on the watchtower of Tochka''s main castle, spoke up.

    "...If something like that spews fire, the entire Tochka will blow away."

    The countless refugees who had been furiously throwing stones at the city walls were mesmerized in unison.

    A natural disaster that they dare not even think of resisting, a presence that brings overwhelming despair and fear.

    That was the Gate of Destruction.

    The red portal that had opened in the ck sky was now fully formed.

    And now, it slowly began to open and reveal its deep and vile contents.

    Then.

    jeobeog-

    Through all this despair, chaos, and terror, there was a man who took a step forward.

    Vikir.

    His expression was as calm as ever.

    ''...Now I know why I regressed.''

    Perhaps it was to prevent a situation like this.

    Chaang-

    Vikir drew his sword.

    He took another step toward the Gate of Destruction that was opening its mouth at Tochka.

    To face the great firestorm that was about to burst forth.

    And then.

    ku-leuleuleuleug!

    A huge pir of fire erupted.

    A supernatural disaster on a scale as terrifying as the eruption of the Nouvelle Vague volcano.

    Like a tongue protruding from its mouth, the Gate of Destruction unleashed its first st of crimson mes, attempting to lick up anything in its path.

    And Vikir set his whole body on fire to cut off its tongue.

    All of this was what he had nned from the moment he first opened his eyes in his cradle.

    ...kuleuleug!

    Squeezing everyst bit of mana from his body, Vikir formed a ck Sun at the tip of his sword.

    The eight fiercely spinning teeth took on the shape of a sphere and stood at the Gate of Destruction.

    But it was so small and fragile that it looked like a fire moth rushing toward a torch.

    ''Still, I can''t give up.''

    Vikir gritted his teeth and unleashed a st of mana in his body.

    A blow that gathers all the strength from the time when he strangled a poisonous snake in his cradle.

    Vikir''s charge, blessed by Dolores, met the mes of the Gate of Destruction.

    jilkkeun-

    Vikir closed his eyes, imagining his body soon to be consumed by the mes.

    ....

    ...But nothing happened.

    No shock, not even a hint of heat.

    "?"

    Vikir opened his eyes, puzzled by theck of change.

    And there it was, an incredible sight.

    The Gate of Destruction. A feast of bursting hellfire. A wind-lit Tochka.

    Something stuck in the middle of it all.

    ck teeth.

    One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.

    It was holding back the mes from the gates of hell.

    "No, not eight, but...."

    Vikir fumbled for the number of teeth.

    It had one more than eight.

    Nine.

    The ninth tooth was biting ferociously at the mes.

    Nine teeth resisting destruction. Baskerville 9th Form.

    The enemies that exploded with terrifying momentum and the ck aura prevented the apocalypse froming to Tochka.

    It was certainly something Vikir had seen before.

    The Grave of Swords. The words of a once noble man who had crossed the threshold of death.

    Death Knight. And the Nine Teeth. Baskerville, the Supreme.

    A being who has crossed the line between life and death.

    An undead whose death has been postponed even though he has already died once.

    ''...Since when did I be a father?''

    Hugo.

    Hugo Les Baskerville.

    The patriarch of the Baskerville family, the Iron Blood Swordman Family, was there.

 Chapter 475: Knowing the Fate of My Father (2)

    <h4>Chapter 475: Knowing the Fate of My Father (2)</h4>

    ''He will never again have to live such a painful life of being hung by a thick chain during the day and having the rope pulled by him at night.''

    -Park Young-hee, from��Hound��-

    * * *

    Hugo Le Baskerville.

    The iron-blooded swordsman Baskerville was there.

    The body that transformed into a Death Knight was covered in jet-ck armor forged with the mes of hell, and the dark red aura waspletely changed to ck.

    The life that was pledged is drained like a tide.

    His skin turned white and bluish, and just as the horizon between life and death flipped, so did the ck and white of his pupils.

    A pact to give life and draw power in return.

    In the final battle, Hugo pushed his entire body''s mana beyond its limits and crossed the threshold of the 9th Formation, which he had only seen from afar for so long.

    kwakwakwakwang!

    The mes from the Gates of Destruction sh with the aura of a single Death Knight.

    Even the world-famous sword Balmung, which was at its closest point, was unable to withstand the rebound damage and slowly began to melt away.

    That Balmung.

    The sharp and sturdy sword.

    The core that was colder and sharper than anything else in the world.

    Slowly. Hot. Melting. Breaking apart.

    Vikir looked at it and asked, unable to help himself.

    "...Why did you do that?"

    The voice was slow and hot, melting like a steel de dropped into a furnace.

    It was a heavy tone, but that made even the slightest tremor feel even bigger.

    It was the first time Vikir had ever asked a question he was genuinely curious about, hoping for an answer.

    Unreasonable paternal love? A false sense of responsibility? A bit of guilt? Bted atonement?

    What was it that drove Hugo to make the choices he did?

    ....

    Hugo didn''t look back at Vikir''s question, which left out a lot.

    As always, he simply marches forward, facing straight ahead.

    His broad back slowly dissolves into a blinding halo of light.

    Suddenly, Vikir heard a small voice in his ear, distant and faint.

    ''I don''t know.''

    ...Is there anything in the world that he doesn''t know? Vikir wondered, subconsciously.

    He looked at the back of Hugo''s head with a newfound sense of dread and unfamiliarity.

    He had crossed many lifetimes, and he was certainly older than his current father, but ... why? He could not understand him, could not fathom the depths of his heart.

    The back, which moves away to a distance that cannot be reached, is wide and solid.

    It was ck and murky, as if sinking beneath the surface ofva.

    And then.

    ...pas!

    His vision cleared.

    He could see a ck sky, and a red portal.

    The initial impact from the Gate of Destruction had dissipated.

    The one who blocked it in front of everyone.

    The Ironblood Swordsman, patriarch of Baskerville and Master of all hounds.

    ...And in fact, he himself was a hound who had lived his entire life hanging on a thick chain.

    Hugo Le Baskerville. He was 64 years old. Burning white on the battlefield.

    The only way to describe it is that it was a very Baskerville death.

    Even Major General Orca and the Marquis de Sade were speechless at the sight of Hugo''s exertion and oxidation.

    "...That was definitely the 9th Form Baskerville. Was that really possible?"

    "I can''t believe it. CaneCorso, the old man wasn''t senile?"

    It was overwhelming and spectacr.

    Hugo''sst stand had everyone in Tochka gritting their teeth in disbelief.

    In the end, Fortress Tochka survived. And so did Vikir.

    "...."

    Vikir stared at the white ash scattered by the wind.

    White, charred ash. Completebustion that burned everything.

    It was impossible to tell if that was what Hugo had left behind, but somehow Vikir thought it was.

    ... But.

    Hugo''s sacrifice did not end the whole situation.

    ...Rumbling!

    The Gate of Destruction, summoned by uros with his life, still stood firm in the sky.

    Only the firestorm that had first opened it had dissipated, but the rainy season of fear that followed had not.

    Soon, tiny glowing red drops began to fall from the giant gate.

    Patter-patter-patter-

    It was fireworks. Tiny sparks, the kind you''d see when iron shes with iron.

    Soon they were falling in dots, then in clusters, then in countless numbers.

    "It''s a rain of fire!"

    Someone among the refugees shouted.

    They were right.

    Countless drops of fire rained down from the sky, hitting the ground and scorching the surroundings.

    No one stood a chance against this searing shower of fire, which fell in a searing trajectory.

    The apocalypse. It was surely casting its dark shadow, starting here in Tochka.

    Screams began toe from everywhere.

    Refugees gathered on the ramparts fled down the stone walls, heads bowed to avoid the rain of fire.

    Tents, wooden poles, and anything else that could be burned fell prey to the mes.

    The ground was already smoldering with red ash.

    "...It''s over, there''s nothing we can do about it."

    "Pushishishi- as expected. I was destined to burn to death."

    Orca and Sade also looked up at the red raindrops falling down and said with a sense of despair.

    Just then.

    Sammua, the girl standing next to Tudor, caught the raindrops that fell on her face with her hand.

    "Huh?"

    There was no pain or despair in the girl''s expression.

    There was only surprise and delight.

    "Is this water?"

    Tudor and Bianca turned their heads at the girl''s words.

    "It''s not water, it''s fire! We have to get away from it!"

    "Run under the stone wall now!"

    But Sammua is still dumbfounded.

    "No, big brother, it''s water!"

    After saying this, Sammua wiped the raindrops off her face with her hand and held it out in front of her.

    Moist water. It was clearly an ordinary raindrop.

    "Huh?"

    "Huh?"

    "What?"

    One by one, the people who were running inside the castle to escape the rain of fire raised their heads.

    Fire droplets pouring down from the Gate of Destruction.

    But soon, more and more droplets were falling through the gaps.

    pusisisisig-

    Fire and water droplets meet in the air and turn into white vapor.

    The red mes rising from the ground began to fade in power.

    Soon, the rain from the sky began to grow thicker and thicker.

    sswaaaaa-

    It was all water.

    "It''s raining! It''s really raining!"

    "Wa, water! It''s water!"

    "Water drops are falling!"

    People looked up at the sky with their eyes wide open.

    The Gate of Destruction, and the thick dark clouds that hung over it.

    hwiiiing-

    A gust of wind from the southeast pushes the dark clouds this way.

    kwalkwalkwalkwalkwalkwal...

    The raindrops, which had turned into a torrential downpour, were creating a raging torrent down the steep walls of Tochka Fortress.

    It was a torrential downpour, sudden and maddening, powerful enough to overwhelm the rain of fire falling from the Gate of Destruction.

    Camus, Aiyen, Dolores, Sinir, and Kirko opened their mouths to speak as they watched the sudden downpour.

    "I''ve never seen anything like this before."

    "Even in the rainy jungle, we''ve never seen anything like this."

    "Oh my god, it couldn''t be this timely...."

    "This will solve our drinking water problem!"

    "The climate on earth is constantly changing."

    The rainfall was so heavy that everyone else was speechless.

    Of all the refugees gathered here in Tochka, there''s probably not a single one of them who has ever experienced rain of this magnitude.

    ...kuleuleug! pusisisisisig...

    The scorching Gate of Destruction began to cool.

    A torrential downpour that would have dampened even the rainy season of fear.

    Waves of floodwaters swept away the fires that had just begun to ignite on the ground.

    "Everyone back inside the fortress!"

    Major General Orca ordered.

    Tochka is a teau made of solid rock that is not subject to erosion.

    Thend is so high that it is naturally not subject to flooding.

    The terrain is made up of huge boulders and sand between them, so the water drains away quickly.

    "A fortress that can withstand any major flood. Avoiding fire and water... It''s like an ark from mythology... oh!?"

    Dolores was muttering to herself when she suddenly realized something.

    ''Only here will fire and water escape, and only here will true salvation be found.''

    It was a false myth she had created and spread.

    And the being who had earlier instructed to create that myth.

    ''There will be a great flood soon, so prepare the ark.''

    ''Hold on. All I can say is to hold on.''

    ''Just wait and everything will work itself out. I promise.''

    A person who has made a home here in Tochka for a very long time.

    Even in a situation where drinking water was running out and demons were running rampant, a person who endured everything alone and waited, and who promised salvation.

    Vikir.

    He stood at the very front of the fortress, peering through the Gate of Destruction.

    pusisisisisig-

    Most of the raindrops evaporated before they even got near the Gate of Destruction, but the ones that followed, falling and falling, pushed through the heat and pushed forward.

    The gate, scorching hot from uros''s mana, was cooling rapidly under the torrential downpour.

    Vikir turned his head.

    He could see a star in the southeastern sky.

    Seven starsmonly called guiding stars.

    It''s a special constetion, visible only from a specific direction, that has guided countless people throughout the ages.

    Now, however, the constetion of the Guide Star was made up of eight stars.

    ...kwaleuleung!

    Vikir stared at the eighth star, which shone unusually brightly through the pouring rain.

    "...Poseidon."

    All that hard work rolling around in the Nouvelle Vague was finally paying off.

    The rainy season of fear that lies ahead. A 150-day shower of fire.

    And the torrential rains that began to fall almost simultaneously. A 150-day flood.

    It was essentially a deration of the end of the war,pletely cooling down the furnace that would open the Gate of Destruction.

    The Gate of Destruction cooled and eventually ceased to function.

    The wave of mana has dispersed, and the summoning circle that formed the door is also fading.

    The Age of Destruction is no more.

    Vikir gazed down at the corpses of the poisonous people, all of whom had been swept away, and the in below, which had turned into an ocean.

    Then he gave his finalmand.

    "Tudor."

    Tudor responds to Vikir''s call, raising his spear.

    As if he''s been waiting for this moment, Vikir speaks immediately.

    "We need Don Quixote''s Armada."

    Everyone who heard the words could not help but think the same thing.

    The destination is Imperial Capital. A symbol of the empire where the emperor resides.

    The center of the world where everyone''s youth and prime years have been at least once.

    ...And the final enemy, the First Corpse.

    Thest demon is lurking there.

 Chapter 476: Tochka Annihilation Battle (6)

    <h4>Chapter 476: Tochka Annihtion Battle (6)</h4>

    The eruption of the Nouvelle Vague volcano. And the trigger that caused it, Poseidon.

    Vikir''s small ball ended up causing a massive butterfly effect.

    A great flood that sweeps away the world.

    Over the next 150 days, this torrential downpour would swallow up all but a few high teaus.

    The wildfires that had been raging across the empire, the monster hordes that had taken advantage of the vicious conditions, and the drought that had been lingering were all swept away.

    Naturally, everyone in Tochka was able to receive salvation.

    Not only did the waters never reach the high teau, but the hard rock and fine sand of the ground made for excellent drainage.

    The fortress were also strong enough to withstand the weather, and theck of drinking water, the only drawback, was naturally solved by harvesting rainwater.

    Under normal circumstances, the Great Flood would have been recorded as an unprecedented supernatural disaster.

    But the flood that followed was a miracle because it was first preceded by the catastrophes of wildfires, drought, gue, monster hordes, and rainy season of fear that had spread across the empire as a result of the Gate of Destruction.

    Destruction was offset by destruction.

    * * *

    Deep drainage ditches were dug throughout the barracks within the fortress.

    Large barrels were ced in front of the barracks, and the refugees caught the rainwater in them and drank to their hearts'' content.

    They hadn''t had a drop of water for days.

    "The situation outside the fortress is such that the enemy will not be able to get in. It is time to concentrate on internal security."

    Major General Orca released the personnel of the Nouvelle Vague to take care of the security inside the fortress and reorganize the discipline.

    Meanwhile, Marquis de Sade was already wincing at how long it had been since the battle had ended.

    "Pushishishi-we can finallyplete the revolution we failed to do 40 years ago! Where is the crown prince? The emperor is dead, so we should kill that bastard!"

    "Ugh grandpa! When my body gets better, let''s go together!"

    Sady barely managed to stop Sade, who wanted to grab a small boat and go to the imperial capital right away.

    Other than that, the reorganization after the battle was taking ce slowly.

    Everyone, including Osiris and CindyWendy, worked together to erge and rebuild Tochka Fortress.

    Everyone was preparing and gearing up for the end of the Great Flood in 150 days.

    The hope of being able to move forward. With that, everyone''s faces were bright.

    ... But there was one person who remained expressionless.

    Vikir.

    He always stood at the top of the ramparts, facing the pouring rain.

    ...cheolsseog!

    Outside the fortress, now turned into the sea.

    Hollow orchids bloom above the raging waves.

    Vikirpared the Tochka that was before the regression to the Tochka that is now.

    "...."

    As it was, the wheel of fate should have rolled in an even harsher direction.

    The present world has be hell due to the invasion of demons.

    Sady took advantage of the chaos to lead an army to attack Nouvelle Vague.

    Marquis de Sade, who was able to escape Nouvelle Vague with the help of his granddaughter, Sady.

    Major General Orca, who detonated the Poseidon he found while working to prevent Marquis de Sade''s escape.

    The rainy season of terror was ended by the great flood that followed.

    However, countless people had already been burned to death, and the unexpected deluge had dealt a devastating blow not only to the demons but also to humanity.

    ...But what about now?

    The Great Flood began rtively on schedule, although it was off by a week or so, causing quite a bit of difficulty in securing drinking water.

    The rainy season of fear has ended, and the Gate of Destruction has cooled.

    [At this point, it is nothing short of aplete victory. Isn''t that right, human?]

    Dekarabia said in a self-congrattory tone.

    But Vikir shook his head silently.

    "We haven''t won yet. We''ve won the big local battle, but there''s still one more to go."

    [Are you talking about the First Corpse?]

    "Yes."

    Vikir nodded, looking out over what had be a vast expanse of sea.

    Dekarabia''s eyes widened in wonder.

    [I see. So that''s why you were the first to restore Don Quixote of the Spear Sea Gun Family (�溣����) as soon as you escaped from Nouvelle Vague, so that you could get your hands on the Invincible Cavalry and the Invincible Armada that divided Don Quixote''s power].

    "Yes, indeed. In a world like this, he who has the fleet will be the Overlord(����)."

    At Vikir''s words, Dekarabia paused for a moment.

    Then, after some thought, he spoke again.

    [Speaking of Overlord, human].

    "What?"

    [This is uros, you faced before].

    Decarabia continued speaking with a slightly uneasy expression.

    [uros was one of the Overlord, known for his lies and persistence even in Hell].

    "What are you trying to say?"

    [Is he really immortal? I doubt that. If he faked his own death...]

    uros is such a good liar that even his death is suspect.

    But.

    "I don''t care about that anymore."

    [What? Why?]

    "Whether he was alive or dead at that moment, he won''t survive."

    Vikir smiled dryly as he looked out at the raging storm, the waves, and the distant enemy and tributaries of the ck Mountains beyond.

    "This world, too. It''s just as dangerous as Hell, when you get right down to it."

    * * *

    The jungle is pouring with torrential rain.

    A man runs through a dense forest of sword trees, their leaves as sharp as des.

    [heoeog! heog! keoheog-]

    The man running, his body covered in blood, was clearly Thomas de Leviathan, second son of the extremely poisonous House Leviathan.

    But the red aura of death emanating from his body and his sharpened teeth indicate that he is not the same man.

    He was uros, who, shortly before his death, had used a trick to transfer his soul and take over Thomas''s dying body.

    It wasn''t a strange situation, since all demons are merely demonic hosts, spare bodies that can be switched at any time.

    After stealing Thomas''s body at thest moment, uros fled the battlefield in desperation, carrying the body that was already in a state of destruction, and eventually seeded in reaching this ce.

    [My body is crumbling... I can''t hold out much longer... Damn it... I''ve forced open the Gate of Destruction... Even my soul is tattered... I must hurry to the Imperial Capital... I must ask First Corpse for help...]

    Still, he had seeded in killing Piggy, so there must be something to bargain with.

    uros thought.

    Just then.

    Sssssss...

    uros felt a chill run down his spine.

    The temperature around him was dropping rapidly, starting with the valley he had just entered.

    Cold Bone. The name given to the natives who lived in the jungle of the Red and ck Mountains.

    uros could not have known that the climate here was frosty even in the middle of summer.

    As his already low body temperature drops even lower, his body bes sluggish and his joints stiffen.

    More blood trickled from the puncture wounds in his neck, stomach, and other gaping wounds across his body.

    Just then.

    [...Hiig!]

    uros was forced to drop to the ground as soon as he exited the valley.

    Sssssss-.

    A giant shadow crawled through the raindrops and leaves.

    With an eerie sound, a single spider emerged, its body enormous.

    The spider scoured the forest as if searching for something.

    It wasn''t the only spider in the forest beyond.

    [...Is it looking for me?]

    uros had a hunch.

    If they found him now, he would die. No chance of escape.

    uros crawled along the ground, desperately holding his breath.

    He crawled, crawled, crawled, crawled, like a worm, to avoid the spiders'' eyes.

    ...After what seemed like an eternity, he managed to escape the spiders'' siege and reach the river.

    The river is quite high up, but the stream is swollen from the heavy rains.

    With a plop-

    uros dives into the water to cross the river.

    ...Quack!

    Suddenly, uros feels a violent pain in his lower body, and he has to jump back.

    [Ugh!? Fish!?]

    Fish with teeth like saw des were clinging to him, biting into his flesh.

    ''Nateri''. Even on the surface of the water, the cannibalistic fish of the rivers of the Red and ck Mountains could be seen swarming around, smelling the scent of blood.

    [...Goddammit!]

    uros had just turned to leave the river.

    Hissing-

    A pitch ckness fills his vision.

    A gigantic mouth was reaching up to swallow uros''s head.

    Mushuhushu. A giant snake that lives in the jungle. It approached from behind without making a sound, and in the blink of an eye, it swallowed uros whole.

    [Kuuuuaaghhh! You lowly creature!]

    uros used hisst strength to burst the snake''s belly skin.

    Fortunately, it was an immature creature, so killing it wasn''t too difficult.

    It''s just a shame that he''d spent most of his life force tearing through the tough snake skin to escape.

    [...I must find somewhere to rest, or I''ll have to stay the night, what a disgrace.]

    uros desperately opened his eyes, which kept closing.

    He ripped his eyelids away, leaving only his eyeballs, and his vision cleared.

    Soon, he spotted a deep trench dug under the roots of a tree.

    It seemed like a good ce to stay out of the rain and keep warm.

    uros staggered toward the trench.

    But could it be that his concentration was disrupted due to his low stamina? uros didn''t notice therge fingernail marks on the side of the tree.

    ...And the results were devastating.

    [Keu-wo-aaaahhhhhh!]

    A thunderous roar erupted from behind him.

    uros didn''t even have time to turn around.

    The blind old oxbear female swung her forepaw with the destructive force of a dozen tons.

    It crushed uros''s skull with a sure crack.

    [Keuaag! Kkeueoeoeoeoeo...]

    Oxbear looked on in disgust as uros spewed poisonous blood from his body.

    Oxbear washed the blood off her paws in the rain and went back into her den.

    Not worth killing.

    uros crawled across the ground.

    [...! ...! ...!]

    No wordse out properly from the crushed mouth.

    What is he trying to say?

    The screams of his aching body? The hatred for those who have brought him to this point? The rage thates from recognizing the horrors of his situation? The revenge he has vowed over and over again during his journey here? The fear of... annihtion? The regret that he should never havee here in the first ce?

    Complex thoughts are mixed in the muddy brain.

    and.

    There were those who greeted him.

    weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng-weng...

    Mosquitoes.

    Mosquitoes in staggering numbers, following the scent of blood.

    There were blood-sucking mosquitoes attached to the body of uros, or rather, Thomas.

    There were also some mosquitoes that sucked flesh.

    There were also mosquitoes that only sucked skin.

    There were even some mosquitoes that sucked on bones by sinking their saliva deeper.

    ...And then there were the mosquitoes that didn''t suck anything at all.

    It just floats in the air with hazy, murky eyes.

    A mosquito that sucks nothing, yet somehow lords over the others, exuding an overwhelming sense of foreboding.

    And uros, lying on the ground, groaning, stares bloodshot eyes at the mosquito.

    [...! ...!]

    Then, silently, the mosquitonded on top of uros'' head.

    It then stung him, aimlessly, but with a clear target.

    jjoooog-

    The red-hot smoke enters the stomach through the mosquito''s saliva.

    Mosquitoes are the most feared and wary of natives living in jungle.

    The soul-sucking mosquito adorned uros'' soul.

    [...!]

    It was a shabby and degrading end to be reduced to a mere meal of insects.

 Chapter 477: Downtown Naval Warfare (1)

    <h4>Chapter 477: Downtown Naval Warfare (1)</h4>

    sswaaaaa-

    The rain poured down like a torrent.

    The world that had been turned into a sea was rippling more and more ferociously.

    The people gathered in Tochka gradually became restless.

    "Aren''t we going to starve to death here, stuck in this ce?"

    "What �C there''s still plenty of food, isn''t there?"

    "But what if this flood continues?"

    "It''s only supposed tost 150 days. We have enough food and more water, so it''s okay."

    "But it''s already an ocean outside, and how do we know the flood will stop in 150 days?"

    "Well, Don Quixote''s eldest son is on his way to pick up the Armada, so that''s why we''re all waiting."

    The rumors among the refugees weren''t false.

    In fact, Tochka, in the hignds, is one of the most secure fortresses in the world, and apletely isted, deserted ind.

    Is that why? Vikir was still gazing longingly out to sea today.

    ...Squash!

    The waves crashed against the solid walls of the fortress on the high teau.

    The white bubbles that broke the water were like a field of flowers.

    "...."

    Vikir sat on the ramparts in the pouring rain.

    The cold rain pounded against his body, as if cooling hot iron.

    Then.

    "Raining again today, what a pity."

    A voice came from behind Vikir.

    It was Camus.

    She walked to Vikir''s side, soaking wet, too.

    "It''s pouring like crazy."

    Camu said as she watched the water cascade down the ramparts.

    "This would have been a disaster if it weren''t for the sea of ??fire the demons created, but the two gues have worked together to lessen the damage. I assume this is what you calcted in Nouvelle Vague, before the volcano erupted."

    "Mostly."

    Vikir nodded quietly.

    The math wasn''t perfect, but it was close.

    But if the margin of error had been a little wider, something really bad would have happened.

    "...."

    "...."

    Vikir and Camus looked in the same direction.

    Neither of them said anything for a while.

    Finally, it was Camus who spoke first.

    "...I''m sorry about your father."

    At that, Vikir, who had been standing motionless, reacted.

    At most, his shoulders shook slightly.

    The memory of that day is still fresh in his mind.

    ''...Why did you do that?''

    ''I don''t know.''

    The memory fades to white. White ashes. Now scattered in the rain.

    Hugo, who had been burned to death, was a hero to everyone in Tochka that day.

    But Vikir can''t help but see him as aplicated figure.

    "...He."

    Vikir spoke after a long silence.

    "I don''t know how he crossed the threshold of the 9th Form."

    It was a far cry from his previous life.

    Camus pauses at Vikir''s words.

    "Actually...."

    "?"

    "He came to visit me a long time ago."

    Camus''s testimony came as a surprise to Vikir.

    "It was not long after the trial in Nakajaniye, and he wanted to discuss with me a way to get you out of prison. Oh, and by the way, Sady, I think he and that woman were holding hands back then, too."

    The fact that Sady and Hugo were holding hands was a bit of a surprise to Vikir.

    It seems that Hugo had more in mind for Vikir than he realized.

    The process of CindyWendy finding Sady, who had disappeared, the process by which Aiyen was able to go to Nouvelle Vague to avoid summary execution, and Sady''s ability to create a false identity and pass through the Gate of Nouvelle Vague.

    It was all thanks to a helping hand that was just around the corner.

    Vikir''s mind shed back to the image of Hugo in the courtroom.

    -The Baskervilles'' case is as follows. The crimes of rebellion, murder with intent to kill, and poisoning of the patriarch are grave and heinous, but the used is of Baskerville blood and deserves to be treated as a nobleman. Therefore, we ask for a ruling of mitigating circumstances.

    Hugo sits backwards in his wheelchair, having made no objection to the sentence.

    "...."

    Vikir was speechless.

    Camus continued the story.

    "When we were talking about helping you escape, the topic of the Wraith Tree came up, and I couldn''t help but mention the Grave of the Swords."

    Camus raised her hand.

    Tsutsutsutsutsutsutsuts...

    The Wraith Tree waved its long, stubby branches in the air.

    "I''m surprised the Wraith Tree reacted to Hugo, he must have read ''some memory'' from it."

    Vikir nodded silently at Camus'' words.

    He had a point.

    [There is something to be gained by those who step into the realm of the supreme, and continue to fight with the same heart as when they first held the sword.]

    [This is a realm that defies ordinary human understanding, empathy, conviction, faith,mon sense, probability, and causality. No being who has not experienced death can ever set foot here.]

    [You will probably never attain this realm in your lifetime].

    [For the realm of the 9th Form lies at the threshold of death, beyond it].

    [If you''re a true Baskerville, you''lle here at the end of your life].

    [You will see it again someday].

    What Hugo saw was probably the figure of CaneCorso.

    What did he feel in his older brother''s words?

    Vikir thought again.

    The 6th Form. A state of mind that can only be reached by transcending all emotion.

    The 7th Form. A state of mind that can only be attained by reiming emotions that have been abandoned.

    The 8th Form. A state of mind that can only be attained by fighting through countless devastating battles, just like the first time you held a sword.

    The 9th Form. An iprehensible zone at the core of the highest realms that only those who have experienced death can ascend to.

    "...."

    What must have been Hugo''s mind as he crossed the threshold.

    At the edge of the threshold between life and death, Vikir thought and thought and thought.

    at that time.

    Thud.

    Camus tapped Vikir on the shoulder.

    "Don''t try to take it all on yourself. You''vee all this way, think of the people who care about you."

    "...That''s right."

    And then there was a voice that agreed with Camus.

    Dolores. She appeared in front of the wall and offered Vikir her umbre.

    "These people here are all Vikir''s followers, ready to follow him wherever he goes, aren''t they?"

    "...That''s true, but don''t I have an umbre?"

    "It''s for two people."

    Ignoring Camus''s grumbling, Dolores continued to speak to Vikir.

    "Don''t worry about Tudor. He''s a strong fellow, I''m sure he''lle back with the Armada."

    At her words, Vikir turned his head back toward the sea.

    The storm is raging, the waves are rising, and it seems as if no fleet could sail against it.

    Now that they had won the game, it was urgent, but it was a very frustrating and hopeless situation.

    "I''m always watching from the watchtower, so you should go inside. I don''t want you to get sick."

    Aiyen, who had suddenly appeared, said to Vikir.

    Her superhuman eyesight, capable of seeing for miles, far surpassed Vikir''s, and if Tudor came with his Armada, she would be the first to see him.

    "What is it, barbarian? Why do you keep flirting with other people''s men?"

    "Barbarian? do you want to be stripped naked again?"

    "Oh, it reminds me of the old days? You think that''s still possible?"

    Camus of Morg and Aiyen of Bk hadn''t gotten along well then or now.

    Then.

    "Stop fighting. It''s hard enough on the mind, brother."

    Sinir appeared, having finished repairing the walls.

    Camus and Aiyen narrowed their eyes at her, but Sinir shrugged them off.

    She set down a cup of hot tea in front of Vikir and spoke.

    "The next battle will be the final one. Why don''t you have a cup of tea to calm your nerves?"

    " ...We''re going to the Imperial Castle. I''ve only heard of it in literature."

    Beside Sinir was Kirko, who was in charge of security.

    Kirko turned to Vikir.

    "By the way, does this mean that everyone who lives in the londs is dead?"

    "We''ve gathered as many people as we can to Tochka to prevent that from happening, and we''ve already relocated those who couldn''t make it here in time and space to other hignds. I think we''ve done all we can."

    Sinir answered instead.

    They had apparently been having this conversation all the way here.

    Just then.

    "Huh!?"

    Aiyen, who''d been clinging to Vikir''s side, exchanging nces with Camus, jumped to her feet.

    Her good eyesight had seen something beyond the darkness and the churning waters of the storm.

    Then she cried out.

    "They''re here! It''s the Armada!"

    She was right.

    Soon, through the churning waters and storm, the great ships began to approach.

    Therge, massive ships ignored the waves and headed straight for the hignds of Tochka.

    The number of such ships was countless. Their majesty is truly staggering.

    Dolores shouted with joy.

    "It''s Tudor! Tudor are back!"

    True to her word, the banner of Don Quixote fluttered from the foremast at the top of the captain''s ship in front.

    There were even a surprisinglyrge number of people on board.

    "It''s true! Tochka didn''t flood!"

    "Is there really food there?"

    "s, there really is salvation! There was and that was not flooded!"

    "I should have believed the words of the Night Walkers then! If only I had...."

    Aboard the enormous ships were an equally enormous number of refugees.

    And at the stern of the lead ship, two familiar faces appeared.

    It was Tudor and Bianca.

    "Vikir, I apologize for beingter than promised, it''s disgraceful!"

    "We''rete because this idiot came by and said we had to save all the people stranded in the hignds!"

    The two were still bickering even at this emotional moment.

    Camus, Aiyen, Dolores, Sinir, and Kirko looked at the many other refugeesing to Tochka with concern.

    "We''ll have less food if we let them in, won''t we?"

    "Hmm, and there might be new security problems."

    "It''s okay, they said we have enough food, and the security is manageable with the addition of the Nouvelle Vague team."

    "Five months, maybe. We''ve spent all our family''s assets."

    "I''m all for seeking justice, but I don''t want anything to get in the way of the final battle."

    Then.

    "It doesn''t matter. I have to leave here soon anyway."

    Vikir finally stood up.

    "It''s time for the final round."

    Everyone''s faces hardened.

    They, too, understood what Vikir was saying.

    Soon, the final battle would be fought on the Imperial Capital.

    The final hour was approaching.

    * * *

    The number and variety of ships Tudor brought with him was staggering.

    The longships, with their small hulls and shallow draft, allowed for small, fast maneuvers; the Carvi, with 13 rows of oars and 26 oarsmen; the Sneka, with 20 rows of oars and 40 oarsmen; the Skade, with a capacity of one hundredbatants; the Draka, with over a thousandbatants; and so on.

    What''s more, the crews of these vessels are veterans of Don Quixote''s vast expeditions, who know how to navigate the vast expanse of the open sea.

    Not only did they possess tremendous navigational skills as they navigated the North Sea, where drift ice was floating, but they also had the courage and fortitude to rush to the center of the empire, which became the sea.

    Chwaaaag- Squash!

    Countless ships cut through the rough seas.

    The Baskerville, the Marg, the Quovadis, the Bourgeois, and even the survivors of the Don Quixote and Usher families.

    What''s more, the Colosseo Academy, the Themiscyra Women''s College, the Varangian Boot Camp, and the Magic Tower are all in attendance.

    Prominent figures such as Osiris, the Seven Counts, Respane, Adolf, Pope Nabokov I, Cardinal Luther, Archbishop Mozgus, Demian, and Principal Banshee were all standing at the forefront.

    And in addition to that, everyone who has been in a rtionship so far gathers in one ce and fires up their will to fight.

    The Allied Forces of Tochka went to the imperial capital aboard Don Quixote''s ship.

    Going inward, further inward, tracing the map of the Imperial Capital, which has now been transformed into a sea chart.

    Meanwhile.

    "...."

    Aboard the lead ship, Vikir stood at the stern, gazing out at the endless horizon.

    Cheolgeuleog-

    Every time the ship rocks from side to side, you can hear the sound of the chains wrapped around Vikir''s hands scraping on the deck.

    Beside him, Minpin and Chihuahua look worried.

    "Oh no, Deputy, there''s over there...!"

    Vikir turned his gaze in the direction Chihuahua was pointing.

    A giant shadow streaked across the water beside the ship.

    An enormous sea monster of some unknown nature could be seen passing beneath the water.

    It''s a species that, by definition, shouldn''t live here.

    ''I can see how the Imperial Capital must have changed.''

    Where the emperor lives. No, now the crown prince lives here.

    I can only imagine what the submerged ce must look like now.

    In the center of the empire, on the Impeial Capital, thest stand would be made. The 1st Corpse the protagonist who led the Age of Destruction.

    And the end of the many lives Vikir has crossed.

    The revenge of his fallenrades was slowlying to an end.

    Whiiiiing-

    A strong sea breeze blew and inted the sails.

    The ship began to fly over the waves.

    cheolgeuleog-

    The sound of chains scraping the deck again.

    Vikir tightened his grip on the chain in his hand.

    Minpin, beside him, turned to the end of the chain and stammered a question.

    "Uh, by the way, Deputy. I''ve been wondering before... what is that?"

    He didn''t ask because he didn''t really know what the thing at the end of the chain was.

    It was a coffin.

    What Vikir was carrying was arge, heavy coffin.

    No telling who was inside.

 Chapter 478: Downtown Naval Warfare (2)

    <h4>Chapter 478: Downtown Naval Warfare (2)</h4>

    Don Quixote''s Invincible Armada.

    As far as sea battles go, it is the Empire''s most powerful force.

    Darkness loomed ahead of the countless ships as they sailed across the blue waters of therge expanse of sea.

    Vikir, at the bow of the foremost ship, was lost in thought as he faced the strong sea breeze.

    ''Infinite darkness, enveloping the world. This must have been one of the First Corpse''s abilities.''

    The normally clear Imperial Capital sky was now shows neither moonlight nor starlight.

    Only.

    ...Kwakwang! Ssh-

    There is nothing but a tidal wave of enormous height.

    "We''re going to capsize!"

    Bianca says worriedly.

    But Tudor, standing beside her, merely snorted.

    "Don Quixote''s ship would capsize in a tidal wave of this magnitude? No way!"

    It was true.

    The Invincible Armada lived up to its name and sailed through the tidal wave without a single ship running aground.

    The massive ships were linked together by thick chains so that the whole was one, and one was the whole.

    Yeonhwangye (�B�hӋ). A tactic of connecting ships with chains.

    Vikir''s strategy had multiplied the Invincible Armada''s breakthrough power.

    Seeing it, Camus nodded in admiration.

    "It''s a good method as long as you watch out for fire attacks."

    "With the rain pouring down like this, there''s no need to worry about being attacked by fire."

    "Exactly. It''s the best we have at the moment. You are my boyfriend after all!"

    At Vikir''s reply, Camus smirked and punched Vikir in the arm.

    Just then.

    "...!"

    Vikir''s expression changed as soon as Camus got closer.

    "The smell."

    "...?"

    Camus was greatly embarrassed by Vikir''s unexpected remark.

    She quickly sniffed the scent on her body.

    "W-what is it? what? Do I smell? I wash every day? Hey, I just finished brushing my teeth! I''m meeting my boyfriend, but I don''t know... Oh, or should I have at least sprayed some perfume? I was already worried because it didn''t seem like it would be a good idea to carry perfume into the battlefield... Hey, maybe I was sweating when I did gymnastics in the morning...?"

    "Not that smell."

    Vikir dismissed Camus, who blushed bright red.

    "The smell of a demon."

    "...!"

    "Half a unique, faint smell."

    Then Camus'' expression hardened.

    "That''s strange. Right now, Seere only ounts for a very small amount of my body, so it shouldn''t smell that much, right?"

    "It''s noting from you."

    Vikir replied in a low voice.

    In the past, Camus had shared half of her body with Seere during her reign as the Corpse Queen.

    Vikir had smelled the scent of the other half of the demon once before, and had it imprinted on his nose.

    And now. A simr scent was being carried on the sea breeze.

    Straight ahead, from the direction of the imperial pce, which is considered a key area in the imperial capital, the center of the empire.

    "...!"

    Camus too could soon smell what Vikir was talking about.

    Indeed, it was a thick, intense scent that could be felt even from a distance.

    "It''s an anomaly, not the usual demonic scent."

    Aiyen said, jumping down from the watchtower.

    She had spent so much time in the Hell Tree, ying countless demons, monsters, and fairies that she had be ustomed to smelling this type of scent.

    "It''s definitely... A different aura than I''m used to, much more ominous, but just as unstable. Different from the level of strength."

    Dolores, who had emerged from her cabin below deck, was equally grim.

    "It''s simr to what I felt with Camus, but it''s also different. Where Camus felt like she was half human, half demon..., this feels like there''s only half demon left."

    Sinir, who was organizing the anchor lines, agreed with everyone.

    After being bathed in demonic dragon blood in the Hell Tree, she too had a feeling.

    Buzz buzz-

    Vikir heard Beelzebub''s cry as it slumbered on the inside of his wrist.

    And the exact same cry wasing from behind the deck.

    Kirko.

    Asmodeus, the magic sword, was emitting the same cries as Beelzebub from the strap around her waist as she stared at Vikir wordlessly.

    Vikir turned to the Dekaravia clinging to her breastte.

    "Do you know anything about the First Corpse?"

    [...Am I a knowledge vending machine? Don''t treat me like that saint over there].

    Dolores, who was next to him, became angry at Decarabia''s words, but was stopped by Camus and Aiyen''s dissuasion.

    "Calm down. It''s not wrong."

    "Haha- In the Tochka Siege, you were practically a holy water vending machine."

    "You, that''s too much! I worked hard to protect yourself from behind! This is why healers lose money! If I do well, it won''t be noticeable, but if I don''t, it will be noticeable...."

    "Calm down. If it weren''t for you, Tochka would have fallen long ago."

    "That''s right. Holy power is a strange thing. I''ve never seen it before."

    Dolores, Sinir, and Kirko also chimed in.

    But all the while, Vikir was focused on Decarabia''s answer.

    [Ahem! The First Corpse is. He''s a heteromorph. Normal creatures divide individuals based on their bodies, but that concept doesn''t work for him].

    "...What does that mean?"

    [I mean. you will divide and define human entities based on you. You, the human being, are one. and if there are other human beings who meet the same criteria, they are two. And three. Four. Five.... But not once. Two may be one, and one may be two. Since the criterion for separating the ''a'' and the ''non'' is outside the human concept, it is impossible to cut them ording to conventional wisdom.]

    "I have no idea what you''re talking about. So, I guess it means he has a unique body structure like you?"

    Dekarabia is an object-type demon, which is a fairly unusual category among demons.

    In that case, First Corpse could also be difficult to deal with.

    [Anyway. I don''t know much about him either, he''s a secretive creature, but....]

    Decarabia''s voice tightened as if he were about to reveal a very important secret.

    [I only heard that the roles of ''those who close the door'' and ''those who open the door'' are separate. This is all I know.]

    Vikir furrowed his brow at the increasingly confusing answer.

    He''s been a straight and upright man all his life, and he doesn''t like this kind of back-and-forth conversation.

    Just when Vikir was about to ask another question.

    "Emergency! Tsunami up ahead!"

    CindyWendy shouts from the watchtower of the next ship over.

    Everyone quickly grabbed onto the railing and fixed their gaze forward.

    Koo-oooooooooo!

    The water surged with tremendous momentum.

    One moment it looked like a distant hill was rising, and the next, a wave that seemed to reach the sky.

    It felt like watching the entire skin of the sea surface peel off.

    "...Eueum!"

    Tudor was getting pretty nervous, too.

    In the face of a tsunami of that magnitude, even the most powerful ships would be in danger.

    But.

    "Pushishishi- Fools, what are you so worried about?"

    Marquis de Sade, who was sitting in front of the bow and holding a fishing rod, lookedpletely carefree.

    He tilted his head sharply and turned to Tudor and Don Quixote''s knights.

    "Have you forgotten who you are with?"

    ...?

    They all shook their heads.

    At that moment.

    kwa-kwang!

    A tremendous boom erupted from the front, and the tsunami in front of them tore apart in an instant.

    The tsunami lying helplessly in a gaping hole.

    And everyone on the ship saw it.

    Just as the tsunami rose to engulf the armada, a hand grabs the back of the tsunami with tremendous force and pulls it down.

    ...peopeong!

    The next thing they knew, the hand clutching the line of Marquis de Sade''s fishing pole shot out of the water.

    It was a killer whale with white spots on its grayish skin thatnded on the deck of the ship.

    "Sometimes you have to warm up like this."

    Orca, in his killer whale form, puffed on a damp cigarette that Lieutenant Colonel Bastille lit for him.

    peopeopeopeopeong!

    The tsunami debris that Orca crushed in the water was disposed of by the heads of each family.

    Even though they were fragments, each and every piece of water was of considerable size and was flying in all directions.

    ...teog!

    It was Osiris, the Bizarre Bird, his ck hair flowing and perched on the railing in front of Vikir.

    He had just shed through a giant tsunami and suddenly felt Vikir''s gaze on him and turned his head.

    Is it because he''s his brother? Osiris quickly read the emotion in Vikir''s eyes.

    "Are you worried about your father''s affairs?"

    Vikir didn''t bother to answer.

    And Osiris didn''t ask.

    Instead, Osiris turned and added.

    "I, too, could not understand his actions."

    "...."

    "But I can sympathize."

    "...!"

    Unable to understand, but able to empathize. The opposite is true, but it is extremely rare.

    Osiris turned his head.

    His gaze was fixed on CindyWendy on the watchtower of the nearby ship.

    "Perhaps one day you will understand."

    Osiris muttered, ''It''s not necessary to understand,'' and vanished as quickly as he had appeared.

    "...."

    Vikir was lost in thought.

    The women following him, his father''s white-oxidized body, the Gate of Destruction that had cooled, the final battle with thest of the Tens.

    His stomach churned wildly, and his mind raced.

    Vikir breathed deeply.

    The ship may be shaking, but the heart must not be shaken.

    Especially not at a moment like this.

    Vikir shook his head to clear his thoughts.

    There is no need to think about the future.

    Only one thing.

    "Demons kill."

    All we need to do is go all in on the head-to-head battle against First Corpse, which is just around the corner.

    And then.

    There was something visible in the center of the world, which at first nce seemed to be a vast chaos, with the ckened sky and water.

    A pointed building pierced the horizon, rising up.

    Kirko stood on the railing and shouted.

    "That''s the Central Clock Tower! I''ve seen it in the books!"

    The symbol of the Imperial Capital, which overshadowed the passage of time, was seen standing tall, showing off its unchanging majesty.

    The center of the metropolis, where everything, including the Colosseo Academy, was submerged in water.

    The armada advancing over a city that was once a symbol of prosperity and fashion.

    It was a full-fledged yet somewhat bitter entry into the Imperial Capital.

 Chapter 479: Downtown Naval Warfare (3)

    <h4>Chapter 479: Downtown Naval Warfare (3)</h4>

    The Central Clock Tower, the symbol of the Imperial Capital.

    The Central Clock Tower, which is considered the second tallest building after the Imperial Pce, was flooded almost to the top.

    The great ship on which Vikir rode parted the raging waters to pass alongside the clock tower.

    Suddenly, Vikir muttered to himself.

    "I think we''ve been through this once before."

    Beside him, Camus nodded.

    "Yes, it has."

    "..., right?"

    "Yeah. When we were eight years old, we got into a fight and my clothes came off, and I was in a lot of trouble, and you...."

    "No. Not that."

    "Oh yeah, like at the festival, when we were fighting all over the ce here in the Imperial Capital, and we wore masks. Oh,e to think of it, that was also the time I think my clothes came off at the end...."

    "Not that, either. I''m talking about the smell of demons."

    Vikir was feeling the increasingly intense demonic energy directly on his skin.

    Then.

    "Is that the Imperial Pce? I can see something."

    He hears Aiyen shout from the watchtower.

    Then he saw a sh of golden light on the horizon.

    A radiance that shimmers like the aurora in the night sky. It was clearly like a symbol of the Imperial Pce.

    The tallest staircase in the world, and the golden pce built atop it.

    It looks like a replica of the castle on the clouds where the gods in mythology reside.

    What had truly been a celestial castle in the clouds before the Great Flood now towered like a solitary castle on the sea.

    "The Imperial Pce. It''s really here, I didn''t think there would be a demon in there...."

    Dolores said with concern in her voice.

    She sounded quite nervous, but there was no hint of skepticism or guilt in her tone for turning against the Emperor.

    Perhaps it was because life after knowing Vikir felt so much longer and moreplete than life before knowing him.

    And it was the same for Sinir, a ssmate at the same academy.

    "Wow, is that all gold? What a waste of a building, I''ll have to strip it all off."

    Sinir''s eyes sparkle as she examines the pce''s exterior.

    The Rich Hat atop her head was already rattling.

    Meanwhile.

    "...That''s the Imperial Pce. Where the Emperor lives."

    Kirko gazed at the Imperial Pce on the horizon withplicated feelings.

    Even the guards of the Nouvelle Vague in the deepest depths had always been taught to be loyal to the Emperor.

    However, the Emperor in the pce above and the guards in the prison below never actually see the Emperor.

    For the Emperor, the Nouvelle Vague is a quarantine zone that exists only on paper, and he never sees it with his own eyes.

    They could live a lifetime and never see each other.

    So Kirko had only vaguely imagined what the Emperor was like in his daydreams, never imagining that she would ever meet him in person.

    But now. They stood in front of the pce.

    The rain was pouring down in torrents and the waves were crashing fiercely, but the pce was getting closer and closer.

    ...Just then.

    "It''s another tsunami! It''s bigger this time! And there are more of them!"

    CindyWendy warned.

    Scanning ahead with her telescope, she warned all the ships behind her.

    "Another tsunami? For an unusual weather change, it is strangely frequent.."

    "Pushishishi- look at the magnitude. Who''s creating this?"

    Orca and Sade both frowned as they watched the massive masses of water rising and falling before them.

    A series of waves of that magnitude would capsize any ship before it even reached the pce.

    But.

    "Hahaha, is this the ce for this body great hero to step out!"

    Despite his youth, Tudor''s eyes shone as he skillfully led the Invincible Armada, not fazed in the slightest.

    His eyes sparkle as blue as the vast expanse of the sea, guiding all in the darkness.

    "One outskirts! Divide!"

    Tudor''smand came through the storm, clear to all ships.

    And then.

    ... Pakang! ... Pakang! ... Pakang! ... Pakang!

    The sound of breaking chains could be heard everywhere.

    Therge sailing ships on the outskirts of the fleet fell out of the annr system.

    "...?"

    Everyone''s heads turned.

    Tudor shouted out loud.

    "The outermost ships consist of nothing but abandoned ships! There are no sailors aboard, only gunpowder and breakwaters!"

    And now that they were out of the way, the fleet''s forward speed increased by leaps and bounds.

    Now that the heavy obstacles have been removed, the speed has increased.

    "But won''t the lighter weight make it unstable? The waves are so strong."

    "Why do you think I dragged all this stuff up here in the first ce?"

    Bianca said uneasily, but Tudor remained confident.

    And then.

    Tudor raised his spear Gungnir and gave the signal.

    And then.

    kwakwakwakwang!

    mes and explosions erupted from the wrecks on the left and right wings of the fleet.

    Heavy abandoned ships sink to the bottom of the water and scatter hot mes.

    The heavy breakwaters they were filled with were slowly sinking toward the bottom.

    Then a remarkable change urred.

    "The waves are gone!"

    Orca, sensitive to changes in water currents, was the first to notice the change.

    Not only had the abandoned ships on the left and right wings of the fleet exploded, stopping the waves, but the sinking breakwaters were also pressing down on the iing tide from below.

    The sea was safe for a moment. It opened a straight path to the Imperial Pce.

    The Invincible Armada, which had be lighter and faster after removing the abandoned ships, was heading straight for the imperial pce along that straight path.

    "It''s a bold n. My friend."

    "Haha- I''m the patriarch of the Don Quixote, this is the least I can do!"

    Tudor chuckled as Sancho patted him on the shoulder.

    The raging tsunami moved out of the armada''s path.

    The Armada advanced, meandering through waves less than half the size of the others.

    Then.

    something else happened.

    [K-Aaaaaaaaagh!]

    [Kkieeeeeg!]

    [Hiss! Hiss!]

    Just when everything seemed to be calming down, all sorts of creatures started poking their heads above the surface.

    Crabs so huge that they could stand on the bottom with their legs, ancient coderms with solid iron armor, sea serpents so long you could see the end of them, and deep-sea fish so hideous and grotesque that it''s hard to describe them all were attacking the ships.

    "Well, this is a monster that has been released openly."

    Faced with such creatures, Bianca simply clicked her tongue.

    "God Killing Squad, prepare to fire!"

    At Bianca''smand, the knights of Usher took up positions at the front of the ship.

    Even on the rocking deck, they didn''t move an inch, bows and arrows raised and aimed at therge targets in front of them.

    "Open fire from the ready shooter! Fire!"

    Bianca gave the finalmand.

    At the same time, countless iron bolts imbued with a gray aura flew out and began to pierce the sea monsters.

    Each arrow was like an artillery barrage.

    Whether they hid under the water or dodged behind the waves, the arrows followed them as if they had eyes.

    Peopeopeopeopeog! Kwakwang! Kwakwakwang!

    The sea was running red with the blood of the monsters.

    Not a single one of them could break through Usher''s fire.

    "The demon is showing its true colors openly."

    "You don''t even bother to hide your identity anymore."

    "It was said that His Majesty the Emperor passed away, so the First Prince must be the demon."

    "With the fall of his supporters, the House of Leviathan, he no longer needs to conceal his identity."

    "Darkness and chaos itself. Such is the nature of centers of power."

    Camus, Aiyen, Dolores, Sinir, and Kirko.

    They, too, drew their weapons, preparing for the great battle against the monsters toe.

    Then.

    bugeulbugeulbugeulbugeulbugeulbugeulbugeulbugeulbugeulbugeulbugeulbugeul...

    Things started to look a little different.

    The swarming sea creatures suddenly scattered to the left and right.

    The tsunami that had been raging steadily up until now had finally subsided.

    A strange silence that came out of nowhere.

    And in the middle of it all, a huge pool of water was rising.

    Ku-leuleuleuleuleuleug!

    Despite the sniper fire of Usher''s knights, the water mass rising from the center of the seane, and the huge, dark shadow beneath it, did not flinch.

    "...Could it be ''that guy''?"

    The sight was enough to make even the mighty Major General Orca grunt and groan.

    Behind him, the Nouvelle Vague''s all-stars, including D''Ordume, Souare, BDISSEM, and Flubber, were also showing signs of difort.

    "Did they follow us here?"

    "No. It looks like the demon brought them here."

    "Well, it''s bad luck in many ways."

    [....]

    A being that originally lived somewhere else,pletely unrted to the Imperial Capital.

    The most feared enemy of Nouvelle Vague''s guards.

    They battled for supremacy of the deepest ocean.

    Now that the Nouvelle Vague is gone, ''it'' seems to have made the Imperial Capital its new territory.

    Chwaaaaaak-

    Eventually, thest gatekeeper of the imperial pce pulled its bodypletely out of the water.

    Eight tentacles surrounded the surface of the ocean like a mountain range.

    In the chaos, where sky and sea were indistinguishable, two eyeballs glowed as yellow as the sun in the inky darkness.

    Kraken.

    One of the two monsters said to have been born together when light and darkness were created.

    At this point, the worst creature you could ever hope to encounter.

 Chapter 480: Downtown Naval Warfare (4)

    <h4>Chapter 480: Downtown Naval Warfare (4)</h4>

    Who says that the first life came from the sea?

    In this worldview dominated by creationism by God, few would agree with the above proposition.

    However, many people agree with the statement that thest life perishes in the sea.

    ...kwakwang!

    The final battle against the demon began with a naval battle.

    The ck swirling sea, the storm blowing like crazy, the pirs of fire rising up as they break the sea surface, and the monsters of the deep sea baring their teeth.

    Don Quixote''s Invincible Armada and the Tochka Alliance are engaged in an all-out war against the demon''s minions.

    The location is the highest center of the empire, the ''Empire Capital''.

    The city, once a gathering ce for all cultures and fashions, where the richest and most sophisticated walked with graceful strides, was now in the midst of a fierce naval battle with tidal waves, winds, and torrential rains.

    And in the midst of all this great chaos, there was one great chaos, the biggest, heaviest, and most vast of all.

    A monster that appears most often in sailors'' epics.

    A terror that no one has ever seen, but everyone has heard of.

    An unknown being that can pull an ind into the deep sea with each of its eight legs.

    <Kraken>

    Danger Rating: S+

    Size: ?

    Found in the deepest part of the Lower Sea

    -Also known as the "Great King of the Deep Sea" or "Antagonist of Nouvelle Vague."

    One of the two monsters born with light and darkness at the creation of the world.

    It is by far the best among the various strange creatures that frequently appear in sailors'' epics.

    It lies alone at the bottom of the ocean floor, too cold and dark for anything to live, but once it begins to move, it changes thendscape of the six oceans.

    No one knows why this terrifying creature, which belongs in the depths of hell, is living in the oceans of the human realm.

    Huge and round, its head resembles a rocky ind from a distance, with countless attached oysters, barnacles, and seaweed.

    Eight tentacles, each one a tributary of a mountain range.

    Two enormous, circr eyeballs burn a fiery yellow as they feed on the darkness of the great deep.

    Kraken.

    One of the two monstrous creatures that resulted from the separation of darkness and light in the creation of the world.

    A great king who rules the entire deep sea.

    Another name for the kraken is ''the Antagonist of Nouvelle Vague''.

    eudeug-

    Orca gritted his teeth.

    kwakwakwakwang!

    He swung his club with all his might, meeting the Kraken''s tentacles as they fell toward the ship.

    Not even the mightiest Orca could fully defend against the Kraken''s tentacles.

    Even the barrage of artillery from the Knights of Usher pales inparison to the Kraken''s overwhelming size and defense.

    How long had it been deposited over time?

    The Kraken charged, tens, hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands ofyers of armor of oyster shells, barnacles, and coral shells encasing its entire body.

    peopeopeopeong!

    A hole opened up in the Usher family''s fire, and countless monsters began to pour in.

    As they tore through theting of the bombardment, they tore holes in the ship''s sole or clung to the railings to pull themselves up onto the deck.

    Several ships in the Invincible Armada were already showing signs of sinking.

    But the Allies were no slouches either.

    D''Ordume, Souare, BDISSEM, and Flubber stepped forward.

    "Leave it to us. That''s a demon of the deep who used to raid our Nouvelle Vague regrly, and he owes us a debt of gratitude."

    "We''ve fought him a few times before. See that scar over his eyeball? I made it for him about ten years ago."

    "My God, I never thought I''d see you here again."

    [...! ...! ...!]

    D''Ordume created a whirlwind of strikes and began scraping the oyster shells and barnacles off the Kraken''s body.

    Waggigigigigig-

    The thick, carapace-like armor of the Kraken''s body, seemingly made of time itself, is sliced away by the axe de.

    The living ones shattered with a burst of fluid, and the dead corals beneath them crumbled lightly.

    Souare, too, drew on her dwarven strength.

    She lifted the skyscrapers from the bottom of the Imperial Capital, now a sea, and stabbed the Kraken at the base of its body with a spear of earth and stone.

    peopeopeopeopeog!

    The Kraken let out a dull roar beneath the water.

    BDISSEM took advantage, wrapping countless chains of seaweed around the Kraken''s body.

    Flubber, too, spread out, covering and dissolving parts of the Kraken''s body.

    o-ooooo-

    The sound of a boat horning from under the sea.

    This must be the roar of the Kraken in pain.

    The water boiled over, and an earthquake began to rage.

    ...peoeog!

    Vikir sliced through one of the tentacles falling toward the ship with a single blow.

    ck blood sshed, leaving a cold, sickly taste in his mouth.

    Just then.

    "My friend, now!"

    Tudor shouted from behind him.

    Vikir turned his head to see a ship, driven by Tudor himself.

    A ship with arge, pointed spear at its head was charging furiously towards the Kraken.

    kwakwang!

    Tudor''s small fleet had managed to sever one of the Kraken''s tentacles.

    It was a feat not even the mighty Orca or Sade could aplish.

    Tudor turned to Vikir and shouted.

    "We''ll take care of this gatekeeper on our own lines, you go forward!"

    "...."

    Vikir watched Tudor''s face as he did so.

    He''d been a mere little chick when they''d met at the Academy, but he''d risen to hero status in recent years.

    Seeing him nowmanding so many ships against the Kraken made him realize that he no longer needed to worry.

    With a little more time, he could be as great a hero as Tudor was before his regression, or even greater.

    For in this life, he survived, not died.

    And Sancho and Bianca''s presence alongside Tudor only strengthened Vikir''s conviction.

    "Vikir, I need you to follow me!"

    "You said there''s no time! We''ll do something about it!"

    Finally, Tudor closed the conversation with a tremendous shout.

    "My friend! Go and be a myth!"

    At the same time, the Invincible Armada and the Kraken engage in another ferocious battle.

    The sky and the waters are turned upside down in a frenzy of thunder and fire, tidal waves, and earthquakes.

    Morg''s magic, Quovadis'' holy shields, and Bourgeois'' supplies continue to burst forth.

    The hounds of Baskerville were also tearing at the Kraken''s massive body with all their might.

    Soon, Vikir is in a small carved boat.

    He ns to sneak through the gap in the Kraken''s line of sight and march on the pce.

    Then.

    chwa-ag!

    The Kraken''s body suddenly flipped over.

    One of its giant eyeballs turned toward Vikir.

    In addition to its two visible eyeballs, the Kraken had hidden a third giant eyeball in its tail!

    kugugugugugugu-

    Then, eight legs stepped back from the front and faced Vikir.

    The severed and charred legs swung wildly at Vikir, aiming for him as they were.

    "...!"

    Vikir gritted his teeth and drew his sword.

    kwakwakwakwakwakwakwang!

    The surface of the water behind Vikir shattered with a loud crash.

    Octagon(�˽�). Eight legs.

    Eight gigantic legs jutted out from the sea floor, blocking the Kraken''s tentacles.

    [Kaaaah!]

    Baby Madame. How had she gotten this far?

    Leaving her children behind, she followed Vikir alone, and, stepping over the Clock Tower of the Imperial Capital, where they had once glided together, she drew out her eight legs.

    peopeopeopeopeopeog!

    As soon as she emerges from the water, she stamps down on the Kraken''s legs.

    The Kraken was very surprised to see another creature asrge as him, let alone the venom spreading through his body.

    Suddenly, as he struggled with the Madam, another barrage of Allied artillery began to rain down on his back.

    Oo-oooooo!

    The Kraken was forced to turn around again.

    Naturally, Vikir was out of the way.

    "...Thank you."

    The first words out of Vikir''s mouth were his first acknowledgment of indebtedness.

    His friends, who would have been jumping around in joy if they had heard those words, didn''t actually hear them.

    Next thing you know, Vikir''s boat is racing furiously downwind, fueled by the southeast wind.

    The wind was strong enough to snap the masts, and the small craft sped along at the speed of an arrow.

    And then.

    kung!

    Vikir''s boat, riding the high waves, crashed into the solid steps and shattered.

    Vikir leaped onto the deck andnded on the steps before the boat broke apart.

    A golden staircase so high it seemed to reach the sky.

    Though it had been flooded by the sea halfway up, it still stood tall and majestic.

    Above it was an imperial castle that was usually hidden by clouds and was not visible.

    teog-

    Vikir stepped onto the stairs leading to the imperial pce.

    ...Drrrr!

    The sound of a coffin being dragged on chains.

    Vikir climbed the stairs, dragging a coffin.

    ...And Kirko, seeing Vikir''s backside shrinking in the distance, scratched his head in desperation.

    "What is that coffin? Who''s inside?"

    "Come to think of it, I think he''s been carrying that coffin since he came out of Tochka."

    It was Sinir who answered the question.

    Dolores spoke up in a tone that suggested she was puzzled as well.

    "I was wondering the same thingst night."

    "Mmm. Me, too. So he said it''s the souls of all his deadrades?"

    Aiyen nodded in agreement.

    Then, for thest time, Camus'' eyes narrowed.

    "Hmmm. I have a bad feeling about this."

    If a great mage of Camus'' caliber had a bad feeling, it was a bad one.

    Aiyen, Dolores, Sinir, and Kirko''s gazes were demanding to know why.

    Finally, Camus opened her mouth to answer their questions.

    "... I guess it''s my feelings as a woman?"

 Chapter 481: The Marquis of Discord (1)

    <h4>Chapter 481: The Marquis of Discord (1)</h4>

    A pce covering an area of about five square kilometers.

    Thergest and tallest structure in human history, the Imperial Pce is the result of over 100,000 mages and more than 1 millionborers over 14 years.

    It consists of a total of six pces, and the First Emperor Pce (ʼ�ʵ�), which rises at the innermost center, shows the true pinnacle of architectural beauty.

    A ce of splendor, grandeur, and nobility.

    It was supposed to be the residence of the emperor, but it was currently home to the first crown prince.

    And now a hound, freshly drenched from the storm and wind, stood in front of the First Emperor Pce.

    Vikir.

    The veteran, who had crossed countless lines of fire, looked up at the signboard of First Emperor Pce with a bitter expression.

    The one he had once been blindly loyal to. The ultimate master. A majestic existence that even the great Hugo had paid allegiance to.

    But now, this ce was just a demon''s yground.

    BANG!

    Vikir smashed through the massive front gate.

    In the old days, this would have been a capital offense that would have gotten him executed immediately, but no one cared about that now.

    No man''snd, a deste battlefield that seemed to have been cut off from human contact long ago.

    Vikir walked through the chilly central hall and headed straight for the interior.

    Soon, the Emperor''s throne room came into view.

    Up the craggy staircase, a figure sat on the throne, looking down at Vikir.

    Red hair, pale skin. A pair of cold eyes and a high, sharp nose.

    The First Crown Prince, Golding Jack Meridew, the little sun of the Empire, sat there.

    Unexpectedly, he smiled broadly at Vikir and waved.

    "Oh my�C it''s been a long journey and you''ve had a hard time, Mr. Demon Hunter."

    His tone is casual despite his appearance, but the meaning behind his words is anything but casual.

    Vikir did not reply, but Prince Meridew continued in his own jovial tone.

    "I apologize foring all this way and not being able to offer you a cup of tea. All the people are dead, and I''m the only one in this big pce. How lonely it is."

    "...."

    "This is the first time we''ve met in person, isn''t it? I think I''ve sent you a fewmendations, but the first time was when you saved Morg''s life on the Red and ck Mountain, I believe?"

    "...."

    "Oh, yeah. What was her name? Camus? Camus, yes, Camus. She had a really pretty face and a really nice body. For a girl, she had skills. I fell in love with her at first sight, so I debated marrying her several times, but it all ended. Is there a guy who has already made up his mind? I''m so jealous of this~"

    "...."

    "Oh, I see, that''s a sideways nce. Anyway, I thought you were dead then, though of course you came back alive and well. And when was the next time I saw you, when you were writing your thesis on Killer Ants at the Colosseo Academy?"

    "...."

    "Ugh- I tried to meet you in person back then, but I was turned down. Probably because you were undercover or something, right, right?"

    "...."

    "I wanted to go to the Colosseo Academy to check in person because I thought he was that friend of the Baskervilles, but I was so busy with work that I forgot. If I had known it would be like this, I should have gone and at least forced myself to meet you. right? huh-"

    Vikir raised his hand to cut the crown prince off at the continued chatter.

    teong-

    Vikir pulled the chain and set the coffin on the floor.

    The crown prince smirked at the coffin Vikir carried.

    "What''s with the coffin? Did youe prepared to die, or something? It''s old-fashioned. You''re a bit old-fashioned for your age, you know."

    "I came to end the war."

    At Vikir''s words, the crown prince''s mouth quirked up in an amused expression.

    "End the war? Oh, you mean the civil war? Geez~ Why do you all keep looking for my brother when he''s already missing?"

    "...."

    "Yeah, well, I''ve heard about the Leviathan family, I''m sorry to hear that, but the Second Prince that the other factions are pushing for is long gone. I''m the only one with legitimate ancestry, so who bes the Emperor?"

    "...."

    "Why don''t youe under me? It''s better to be a public figure than to be a traitor, and the stigma of being a usurper is a bit much, don''t you think?"

    The crown prince''s words were bizarre.

    They were so far removed from reality that they felt foreign.

    The lines that didn''t fit the situation or the mood seemed to go on and on and on, like the symptoms of schizophrenia.

    Vikir finally bared his teeth in response to a series of questions.

    "I have no interest in quarrels between humans."

    "Oh? A deration of neutrality? But isn''t it human nature to eventually take sides?"

    "Yes. That''s what humans are, and that''s why they can''t be demon dogs."

    Vikir''s words were decisive.

    [....]

    With thatst line as a turning point, the ck and white masturbation in the crown prince''s eyes changed colors.

    His voice, too, began to take on an eerie tone.

    [Hohohoho- Okay, I''ve had enough of this bullshit for now].

    "...."

    [Oh, but one more thing. The Kraken is a rare creature, that guy is a rare species that is hard to find even in the depths of the world. Originally, I was nning to make it into a spirit beast, but I just released it into the sea.]

    "...."

    [Did it fight that spider? Wow, that would have been a great picture... It''s rare to see a battle of that magnitude even on the maind. When did that tiny spider get so big? Did it absorb the poison and fraud that were signs before destruction? I never thought it would grow bigger than its mother. ...]

    The crown prince, showing his true colors, but still chatty.

    Vikir, of course, had no intention of joining in the chatter.

    4th Form spewed out like breath.

    kwakwakwakwang!

    Vikir''s blow smashed through the throne.

    [What the hell, did you reallye here to fight?]

    But the crown prince was undeterred.

    He pped his hands in genuine panic and tried to calm Vikir down.

    [Okay, okay, let''s have a conversation!]

    "Demons kill...."

    [Demons kill, right? I get it, just calm down for a second, I''ve got something interesting for you to talk about, too!]

    The crown prince was still chatty.

    Finally, he brought up something that made Vikir stop in his tracks.

    [You. I called you.]

    "...!"

    Vikir''s eyes widened slightly.

    The crown prince, not missing a beat, spoke up.

    [It means I was the one who brought you back.]

    Vikir was confused for a moment.

    ...A regression to kill a demon was caused by a demon?

    At first nce, the logic didn''t make sense at all.

    But the crown prince seemed to be sincere.

    [The reason I wanted to regress you to meet with me was because I have something to ask you.]

    "Something to ask?"

    [Yes.]

    The crown prince nodded, and then spoke in a serious tone.

    [My brother. Where is he?]

    Vikir''s eyes narrowed at the question.

    The crown prince smiles wryly and continues.

    [I thought you might know who and where my brother is, for when I looked into the future, I saw nothing but a dying brother. And you were thest link in his dying bond.]

    "...."

    [And there was only one scene in the future that brought you back: me waiting in the imperial pce, and you, dragging the coffin. You clearly said, ''I brought your half-body,'' so I waited patiently, so that you woulde here exactly as I had foreseen, with information about my brother.]

    The point is simple.

    Andras realized that his brother and Vikir were linked by a bond.

    He foresaw that if he brought Vikir back, he would one day bring information about his brother to him.

    That was the beginning of all this.

    A strange superpower that allows him to see the future.

    All descendants of the imperial family, descended from the first emperor who was a prophet and astrologer, have this kind of uncanny ability.

    ''I''m pretty sure that''s what Hohenheim of Magic Tower told me when I yed against him in the old university league.''

    So there was a good chance that what the crown prince was saying now wasn''t a lie.

    Vikir thought to himself.

    ''...He''s a good person.''

    A strange sound shed through Vikir''s ears.

    It was a voice he had heard many times before.

    It was a voice that brought back memories of his pre-regression days.

    And the moment Vikir heard it, the crown prince''s expression changed drastically.

    [Yes, the blood of the First Emperor boils in my veins. Oooh- I see it again, my brother''s future. My brother''s words as hey dying miserably!]

    "...."

    [I can tell, you are definitely rted to my brother. Who is it? Where is it? Just tell me that].

    The crown prince repeatedly asked.

    But Vikir didn''t answer the questions.

    "Why should I answer your questions? What is it you really want?"

    [You''re a fool. There''s no reason for me to seek out my brother].

    "Bullshit. I already know that your body is not a typical structure."

    It''s impossible to take his word for it.

    The crown prince sighed heavily at Vikir''s retort.

    [You''re right, I have two bodies, and it is my task to unite them.]

    "...."

    [Of course, I didn''t expect you to just cooperate with me, so I had a reward in mind for your cooperation].

    Then, the Crown Prince spoke up.

    [I know because I have seen the future. That you were involved in my brother''s final moments before his return. So, all you have to do is tell me the identity and location of my younger brother.]

    "...."

    [In return, I promise you one thing].

    The Crown Prince then held a mirror before Vikir''s eyes.

    "...!"

    Vikir''s eyes widened.

    Inside was a world after destruction.

    Thend had been scorched, but the trees had begun to grow again.

    It rained, and there were oceans and rivers again.

    There were people, though few in number.

    They had ovee their miserable past and were rebuilding a happy life, spreading their offspring again.

    Among them, of course, were familiar faces that Vikir knew.

    They wererades-in-arms who had crossed the line of fire together.

    The original world was in the mirror. The original world that Vikir had lived in, before the regression.

    The crown prince said.

    [After your death, the world turned out just fine. In the final war, the demons lost and the humans won. The human realm is in ruins, but the survivors are rebuilding it].

    "...."

    [But it won''t be easy, for too many heroes died during the War of Destruction, and now there aren''t many people who can handle mana, and they need powerful heroes who can.]

    People who can rebuild happiness after the end of the Age of Destruction.

    If Vikir could return to his original world, he would be able to make a tremendous contribution to the humanity of his original world.

    [I want to know who my brother is. Where he is now. Just tell me that. Then I will send you back to your original world. And I will allow you to see the faces of those you miss. I may even be able to bring some of them back to life, if you name them. It would be a stretch to bring the entire human race back to life, but it''s certainly possible].

    It was a radical offer.

    However.

    "I decline."

    Vikir cut off the crown prince''s offer with a single word.

    The prince didn''t even bother to look surprised.

    "I am well aware that you are not capable of such a thing. ''Andras. Marquis of Discord''."

    And at the same time.

    [...Amazing].

    One corner of the crown prince''s mouth twitched.

    And then.

    Kurrrrr!

    A ck me engulfed the crown prince''s entire body.

    Every trace of human skin had been burned, revealing the hideous malice that lurked within.

 Chapter 482: The Marquis of Discord (2)

    <h4>Chapter 482: The Marquis of Discord (2)</h4>

    First Corpse Andras, also known as the Marquis of Discord.

    His white-feathered wings are sacred at first nce. He has the head of a raven, the eyes of an owl, and the lower half of a wolf.

    In his hand he held a single, ming sword.

    A destroyer, always full of dissatisfaction.

    A being that hates all that is in harmony, loves disorder, and joins with chaos.

    Chaang-

    Vikir immediately took out Beelzebub.

    But.

    [Huhuhu- Why are you so wary? There is no need for that.]

    Andras was still smiling.

    [I''m just showing my true self so we can have a real conversation. We can''t have a conversation if we''re hiding things from each other, right?]

    "...."

    [We both have our own goals, and they don''t conflict with each other, so put the sword down].

    At this point, Vikir had to admit, he was feeling a bit dumbfounded.

    This was the first time he''d ever seen a demon in its true form and not fight.

    ''...A lesser demon hunter might have been fooled.''

    But despite Andras''s kindness, Vikir is not fooled.

    The reason is that he has memories from before the regression.

    The Marquis of Discord.

    A demon who rode the battlefield with terrifying force, decapitating countless Alliance heroes.

    Even though it was wearing a kind smile in front of him now, it was basically a demon, and the most terrifying one at that.

    While Vikir was pondering these things, Andras sighed and opened his mouth as if he was tired.

    [This is the first time I''ve ever shown my true form and not fought, but I can''t help it since I want to talk, and I''m at a disadvantage].

    "...."

    [Now, can we continue what we were talking about earlier?]

    Andras''s eyes glowed.

    [As I said before... the world has settled down a lot since your death, and I can return you to your original world, and maybe even bring back some of the people in your memories].

    However.

    "There is no way to bring back the dead. Even a demon can''t defy Providence."

    Vikir''s attitude was equally steadfast.

    "Demons kill, that''s the way it is."

    Hounds hunt. They don''t talk to their prey. That''s how he was taught.

    So, the conversation ended here, and from then on, the only thing to talk about was the sword.

    ...sh!

    Vikir unleashed the full force of his sword from the very beginning.

    Baskerville 8th Form. His teeth shed together, creating a bright sun.

    Kwazijijik!

    The solid jade throne was shattered like tofu.

    The words were quite hollow for a ce that had been the residence of a Supreme Being for the past few decades.

    [So. If ites to this, is there nothing we can do?]

    Andras swung his ming sword.

    A st of hot me shot out, aimed at Vikir.

    Thwack!

    Where Vikir dodged, a deep crack appeared, and it began to melt away.

    The Baskerville 8th Form and the mes of Andras sh fiercely.

    The atmosphere was shredded, and glowing cracks of mana were forming everywhere.

    [It''s a shame. It was half the truth.]

    Andras smirked as he thrust the tip of his sword into Vikir.

    Half-truths and half-lies were the demons'' standard tactic when it came to seduction, and Vikir knew it well.

    "You guys are basically beings who came to this world to use humans as food. It''s absurd to make a deal with something like you."

    [Do you think so? I''m actually the opposite, right?]

    "...?"

    Vikir frowned.

    Then Andras spoke up, as if it were obvious.

    [Demons can actually make humans prosper, for the greater good.]

    "Bullshit."

    [It is not. You misunderstand our purpose.]

    Andras hadn''t given up trying to convince Vikir.

    [Do you know the animal called ''chicken''?]

    "...?"

    Who doesn''t know chickens?

    They are one of the most familiar domesticated animals to humans.

    Andras asked again.

    [You humans breed, ughter, and eat chickens. What do the chickens think about this? Are they happy?]

    "It can''t be."

    [No. they will be happy If you look at it from the perspective of the entire species, not just one individual.]

    Andras continued.

    [Chickens, for example, were much smaller and weaker animals before humans improved their breed, and probably would not have survived and be extinct if they had stayed that way. Being small and weak, most of them would have been hunted to death by other animals as soon as they emerged from their eggs].

    "...."

    [But since humans chose chickens as domesticated animals, their poption has grown exponentially. They now outnumber any other bird in the world. From a species-wide perspective, isn''t that a pretty efficient choice?]

    "What are you trying to say?"

    Vikir''s sword sliced through the air again.

    Andras dodged it and moved closer to Vikir''s ear.

    [Aren''t humans also weak, hardworking animals, and how many things make their lives so painful?]

    "...."

    [War, wild beasts, famine, drought, floods, wildfires, starvation, disease. And then there are the quarrels, the rivalries, the fights, the battles, and the... hardships of trying to find a ce to live, of raising children, and of breaking your back to take care of your old parents].

    "...."

    [A bottomless, never-ending race where the one you want to breed with is always snatched away by a better-looking, better-financedpetitor, and you have to fight tooth and nail to do well in all the tests and assessments society demands. But is there always happiness at the end of the race? No, there isn''t.]

    "...."

    [Were you born into this world because you wanted to be? No. You were ''birthed'' by your parents into this harsh, lonely world. You are a pitiful animal, forced to be born and forced to die.]

    Andras jumped back with a start.

    He sat back down on the shattered throne and spread his arms wide.

    [At least the lives I mentioned before are better. Most human beings die shortly after birth. Do you know the infant mortality rate of the empire? It''s over 80%. In this world where the average adult lifespan is in the mid-30s, most of the babies, even if they are born safely, end up going from orphanage to orphanage. And even then, war, disease, and starvation kill them before they reach the age of ten. Did you see the reality of the orphanage where Dantalian was located? It is said that volunteer work at the orphanage is a required course at noble schools.]

    Darkness was gathering around Andras.

    Vikir felt an unusual nt and shed them with his sword.

    But the ck mist swayed in the wind, enveloping Andras'' body even more thickly.

    [Humans are pitiful animals indeed. Sad beings who have the intellect but can only recognize deficiencies with it. Lust, appetite, greed, jealousy, anger, sloth, arrogance... The wandering ego, unable to fully satisfy any one need, can only feel inferior, indebted, and defeated in an unequal and unjust society. asional happiness is nothing more than a temporary resolution of those dissatisfaction.]

    An animal forced to be born and forced to die.

    Life is hard when you''re young, hard when you''re old, hard when you die, always hard and burdensome.

    [So I propose].

    Andras chuckled.

    [The overwhelming majority of humans die of poverty and starvation before the age of 30, or even before the age of 10. Wouldn''t you be happier if humans were reduced to demonic livestock instead?]

    "Nonsense."

    [You may think so, but do you think the children suffering in the orphanage, or the children who died in the back alleys before they were even allowed to enter the orphanage, think so?]

    Andras continued, blocking Vikir''s blow.

    [Bing a demon''s livestock would guarantee humans a healthy life, averaging over a hundred years old. You can mate and reproduce to your heart''s content, live a full and warm life, and live in blissful self-actualization in a world without disease, war, or hunger. And when they reach the age of one hundred, they give their souls to demons and their bodies are ughtered, just as chickens are divided into No. 7 and No. 8 chickens depending on how long they''ve been growing. Is this the ''salvation'' you speak of, how is it different from God?]

    In the thickening darkness, Vikir could feel Andras''s gaze studying him.

    Its mouth tears red in the darkness.

    [There was a being who first made this offer to humans a long time ago].

    "...."

    [That''s ''God''.]

    Andras chuckles.

    [Of course, that god is far more evil than I am. ughter was done the same way as ughter, but it did not give the promised happiness and peace at all. Even humans who aren''t fully grown are captured at will, right? Well, since human farming has been so prosperous up until now, it''s understandable that they''re behaving like that. but I just don''t understand you humans unterally upholding contracts even when they are all being broken.]

    "What do you want me to do?"

    [I want you to understand that I have a good offer for the humans, and that I need to find my brother to make it happen].

    After Andras finished speaking, his face changed to that of the First Prince.

    The Emperor''s eldest son. The rightful heir to the throne.

    He is now desperately searching for his half-brother.

    [If you help me, I may even make you the head of the system, the emperor, just as the Golding family did in the past...]

    But once again, Vikir cut off Andras''s offer.

    "Where have you learned to be so mean?"

    [...what?]

    "That logic of yours. Isn''t this a trend that was popr during the ancient Warring States Period? It is a logic that would have only worked in the now-vanished ''Demonic Sovereign Country''."

    Vikir raised the tip of his sword.

    The tip of his gaze was aimed at Andras.

    "Human development desires and upward instincts cannot be confined in a livestock system. No matter how hard you try, they will eventually break through, like an awl in a pocket. That''s what humans are."

    The magic sword Beelzebub shoots out an aura with its awl-like tip.

    ...Boom!

    The thronepletely copsed.

    Andras emerged from the cloud of dust, wings spread wide.

    "Demon Kill."

    [Gee, that''s hard to say].

    Vikir''s sword and Andras''s crossed fiercely in the air.

    Vikir brushed away the sparks and mes from Andras''s sword, thinking to himself.

    ''...It''s fortunate that there is no Asmodeus/''

    The magic sword was Andras''s signature weapon before the regression.

    How surprised Vikir was when he first saw it in Nouvelle Vague.

    Asmodeus is now in Kirko''s hands, which is a relief.

    Vikir burned all the auras at Beelzebub''s tip.

    Andras, too, was drawing darkness into his grasp, dark enough to swallow Vikir''s aura.

    [Very well, if you won''t make a contract... I''ll make you want to do it.]

    Those words made Vikir tense up.

    He may not have the sword, but the demon''s unique supernatural powers are enough to be threatening.

    And now, once again, Andras was about to use his unique ability.

    [Soon you will be begging for a contract yourself.]

    It was a moment of unmistakable power from the pinnacle of the demons who had led the Age of Destruction.

 Chapter 483: The Marquis of Discord (3)

    <h4>Chapter 483: The Marquis of Discord (3)</h4>

    Tsutsutsutsutsuts...

    Darkness falls.

    So dark that if you stretched out your arms, you couldn''t even count your fingers.

    But even in the darkness, some objects were unusually clear.

    A figure rose up in front of Vikir''s eyes.

    "...Sergeant J."

    Vikir muttered, his voice cracking.

    The person standing in front of him was unmistakably familiar.

    A formerrade in the same unit before he was regressed.

    One after another, familiar faces appeared.

    Comrades-in-arms he had left behind in the Age of Destruction. Subordinates,rades, and superiors stood bleeding and ring at Vikir.

    [You won''te back?]

    [You could have brought us back].

    [Are you abandoning yourrades?]

    [Was the world after regression sofortable?]

    [Yes, you can live well after the sacrifices of yourrades-in-arms].

    [I trusted only you....]

    They shouted at Vikir with tears in their eyes.

    A thick cold sweat drips down his face.

    The trauma in his heart resurfaced like an evil spirit, tugging at his heartstrings.

    [Did you regress to flirting with women?]

    [Did you really try your best to prevent the destruction of humanity?]

    [And yet you are a demon hunter?]

    [You don''t even remember the sacrifices of yourrades-in-arms anymore!]

    [...Traitor! ...Traitor!]

    The ghosts of the past began to wail in a mournful wail.

    They opened their mouths wide enough for their lower jaws to fall out, and from within, they drew out their tongues, sharp as spears, and spat out words that flew toward Vikir.

    ...peoeog!

    One of the tongues became a spear and flew out, stabbing into Vikir''s chest.

    After that, countless tongues were flying like daggers.

    peopeopeopeog!

    Vikir stumbled back, feeling his entire body covered in blood.

    A quick check revealed that he was unharmed.

    Was that fountain of blood just an illusion?

    ''Andras specializes in ying with the minds of his opponents. One should never be fooled.''

    Vikir desperately tried to ignore the spears and daggers that pierced his mind.

    Then.

    Vikir turned around and saw something else this time.

    [Who are you to refuse a contract at will?]

    [You don''t listen to us?]

    [You were at least born into a noble family].

    [I was buried in a garbage can as soon as I was born.]

    [I froze to death in a coin locker on a magic train].

    [Eung-ae- euaang-]

    There stood the children who had died in the orphanage.

    Children who didn''t live long enough to live, or who died as soon as they were born.

    Beings forced to be born by their parents.

    They were casting resentful nces at Vikir.

    And there was one girl standing at the front of the group.

    [Brother. No, Mister].

    Nymphet.

    The one who had died so long ago, the one who had be his first sense of guilt since the Regression.

    Nymphet turned to Vikir.

    [You speak well of the human desire for development and upward instinct..., Are you qualified to say something like that?]

    "...that."

    Vikir opened his mouth without realizing it.

    But Nimpet didn''t wait for it.

    [It sticks out like an awl in your pocket? Hohoho �C you mean my tongue?]

    The ghost with Nymphpet''s face chuckled hysterically, then spat out a long spear-like tongue from its mouth.

    ...Puck!

    Nymphet''s words, lodged in Vikir''s chest, were sharp and cold as hell.

    Just like this world.

    Then, the remainingrades from the Age of Destruction and all the children who had died in this world surrounded Vikir.

    [How dare you, you unworthy bastard!]

    [Hang him! Hang him!]

    [Throw stones!]

    [Kill him! We must kill him!]

    At the same time, the daggers continue to strike.

    ...peog! ...peog! ...peog! ...peoeog!

    It was not only piercing his mind, but also his body.

    It''s not a metaphor or analogy, it''s really hurting.

    "...!"

    Vikir drew his Baalzebub long and sharp.

    kwakwakwakwang!

    Baskerville 8th Form. The stage reached through extreme practical experience. The final destination of the living.

    After this, it is the realm of the dead.

    It is a realm beyond the reach of mortal life.

    Vikir bared his eight teeth, scattering the darkness around him.

    But the stings of the tongues continued to fly, embedding themselves in Vikir''s body.

    ''Where are you?''

    Vikir continued to run through the blinding darkness.

    Andras''s voice echoed in his ears.

    [You will die here, but if you ept the deal, even now, I can make it all go away.]

    The voice sounded so sweet and soothing.

    It felt like all you had to do was take the outstretched hand and everything would be fine.

    Like the promised salvation, the flower path, for mankind.

    ...But.

    peoeog!

    Vikir stood steadfast despite the barrage of daggers piercing his chest.

    The surroundings have already be miserable with blood flowing down and spears and daggers stuck on the floor.

    It is the thorny path of asceticism itself.

    The flowery path promised before his eyes was in stark contrast to the thorny path I had walked so far.

    [Are you scared? Are you afraid? You will be, because that''s what humans are like. Well, even now...]

    Andras''s voice stuck like honey in his ears.

    But.

    "Demon."

    The aura Vikir emitted grew even more ferocious and wild.

    "Kill!"

    The crimson half-moon shed through the ck clouds around him.

    Vikir. The scarred hound stood on the thorny path, gasping for breath.

    The air around him was thick with blood, and his heated body scorched the air.

    "I am not afraid of death."

    Vikir had already died once.

    Twice, if you count his experience in the Hell Tree.

    The end of a line he''d crossed countless times before. And now this.

    "I''ve been decapitated by the guillotine and I''ve taken my own life. It''s not a metaphor, it''s a real experience."

    A man who has experienced death so many times that others have never experienced it.

    An anomaly who had actually experienced death and was still breathing right here.

    Vikir moved his hand and raised his sword.

    The sword that had always guided him through the countless deaths he had faced.

    Vikir swung the sword.

    Perhaps it would be thest Sword Form he would ever use.

    Eight trajectories began to glow like guiding stars.

    However.

    peopeopeopeopeopeopeopeopeog!

    There was nothing to be done about the countless tongue stings from the darkness.

    Vikir fell to his knees, spewing fountains of blood.

    "...."

    Vikir shook his head, unable to utter a groan.

    The darkness cleared before him. Andras appeared, clicking his tongue.

    [Too much rigidity will break you].

    Andras gently touched Vikir''s bloodied head with his toe.

    [Is he dead? Hmm �C is his mind dead as well? s, I must have misjudged my power control. Where should I look for the Second Prince then?]

    Andras tugged at his hair, his expression gradually turning to irritation.

    ...Peopeong! ...Bang!

    A bombastic sound from far away. An earthquake that traveled through the floor.

    The battle outside the Imperial Pce seemed to be getting more and more intense.

    [I''ll have to clean up the mess outside first].

    Andras frowned in annoyance.

    Then, as Andras was about to slowly turn away from Vikir.

    " ...Demon."

    There was a groan that sounded like a gut being ripped out.

    Vikir lifted his unfocused eyes to stare at Andras.

    "Kill."

    [Hahahahaha- You''re like a bloody dog.]

    Andrasughed at the absurdity of it all.

    But regardless, Vikir could only move slowly, his body stiff with exhaustion.

    ...one. ...two. ...three. ...four. ...five. ...six. ...seven. ...eight.

    His mana is drained, and not even a faint aura emanates from him.

    His hands are moving, but the teeth can''t be felt on his tips.

    Just before reaching the threshold of death, the now familiar dry and crumbly sensation was repeated eight times.

    Andras, of course, does not care for Vikir''s final act.

    And because of that, Andras missed one thing.

    ...nine.

    The trajectory of the 9th, the one that followed the 8th.

    And finally.

    pas-

    A frighteningly intense burst of light began to emanate from the tip of Vikir''s Beelzebub.

    [...Hmm?]

    Andras turned his head.

    There, there was a burst of light so bright that it burned out his pupils, who were ustomed to darkness, in an instant.

    [Eeh!?]

    His tightly closed eyes burned.

    A thick cloud of pungent smoke was billowing out through his eyelids.

    One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.

    ...and Nine.

    When Andras opened his eyes, the tiny dots of light had transformed into a gigantic ball of light that filled his entire field of vision.

    -[Only those who step into the realm of the Supreme, and continue to run without resting with the same mindset as when they first picked up the sword will gain something.]]

    CaneCorso once said of the 8th Form.

    -[You will probably not attain this in your lifetime, for the realm of the 9th Form lies beyond the threshold of death].

    The 6th Form.

    A state that can only be reached by transcending all emotions.

    The 7th Form.

    A state that can only be attained by reiming emotions that have been abandoned.

    The 8th Form.

    A state of mind that can only be attained by grasping a sword and fighting through a series of desperate battles.

    And the 9th Form.

    An iprehensible zone at the core of the highest realms that only those who have truly experienced death can ascend to.

    "...."

    Vikir was staring nkly at the nine glowing trails beyond his fading vision.

    Across the swirling darkness, he heard the voice of CaneCorso, a voice he had once heard.

    -[This realm defies normal human understanding, empathy,prehension, faith,mon sense, probability, and causality. No being who has not experienced death can ever set foot here.]

    -[Ah, it looks like you have a lot of regrets in life. but. You''re not old enough to have even contemted death yet].

    -[You are not yet ready].

    Words that, at the time, he didn''t understand.

    ... But now, for some reason, it seemed to make sense to him.

    As an anomaly who had experienced death so many times despite being alive, he had witnessed countless other deaths that he had missed at his fingertips.

    And a certain realization that came unexpectedly at the crossroads of life and death had opened a new gate, one thaty somewhere beyond the other side.

    Vikir stretched out his hand and peered into the world beyond the gate.

    For a brief moment, a fleeting glimpse, a dot of light scattered into countless fragments.

    The upper level of the Supreme realm seen in such a short period of time.

    Thendscape he saw with his mind''s eye was burned into his retina, leaving a mark.

    And as he absentmindedly moved his hand along the trace, it soon became the trajectory of a cluster of living stars.

    ...sh!

    Finally, the 9th tooth began to fully reveal itself.

 Chapter 484: The Marquis of Discord (4)

    <h4>Chapter 484: The Marquis of Discord (4)</h4>

    [The realm of the 9th Form lies beyond the threshold of death...]

    A voice crackled into the distance.

    The realm of the Supreme glimpsed in the briefest of moments, left a mark on his retina.

    As a result of drawing the scenery there in the air like a hand-drawn ink painting, nine teeth were created, which was said to be absolutely impossible in life.

    The trajectory of a cluster of living stars.

    ...sh!

    The Baskerville 9th Form was revealed.

    [Keuhag!?]

    Blood spurts from Andras''s mouth.

    The nine teeth that tore through the boundary between life and death instantly tore Andras'' body into tatters.

    Vikir stood still, a dazed expression on his face.

    At first nce, it seemed like he was just standing there, mesmerized.

    But Andras''s eyes showed something else entirely.

    Ku-ooooo!

    A crimson aura rises with terrifying momentum.

    A dog of death with a ck body, bright red eyes, and an open mouth.

    [...Yes, I''ve seen death a few times, so maybe it''s possible to cross the line between life and death alive, but I never thought I''d get there].

    Andras muttered in surprise.

    But there was still an odd ease in his hand as he drew the sword at his waist.

    Gurgling!

    mes roared up the hilt of the sword, which looked like it had been molded from volcanic ash mixed with water.

    Kazanbai, one of the Seven Demon Swords, crashed down on Vikir''s head.

    Beelzebub parries the vertical fire strike, deflects it, and immediately strikes back.

    ...kkaang! ttang! kkang! kwagigigigigig-

    Countless sparks of fire and shards of aura scatter in all directions.

    ''Good thing there''s only one sword.''

    Vikir thought as he parried Andras''s sword.

    Andras, who had originally carried two swords, Kazanbai and Asmodeus, before his regression, now wielded a single sword.

    It was much easier to deal with a master of dual-wielding when he only wielded one sword.

    [Tch. Is it still difficult with a divided body? We have to be one properly...]

    Andras rolled his eyes and adjusted his stance.

    Vikir exuded a crimson aura and gathered all nine teeth into one ce.

    ...Kurrrrrrr!

    ck Sun. The star grew even heavier and more massive.

    A ck, enormous sphere of destruction that sucked everything in its path into its center and crushed it from within.

    Andras chuckled in disbelief.

    [Awakening at thest moment in the final battle and fighting the final boss one-on-one, isn''t that a clich��?]

    "Stories sell for a reason."

    [...That''s true.]

    At the same time, a dull noise erupted.

    Andras''s face was sliced horizontally, leaving only his mouth.

    Kurrrrr!

    Vikir''s sword bent at an odd angle in midair and returned.

    Andras regenerated his face in an instant, then spread his wings and fell backward.

    kwakwakwakwakwakwang!

    In the blink of an eye, dozens of blows were exchanged.

    ...sh!

    Andras unleashed a thousand mes, melting the surrounding golden pirs.

    Vikir swung his strike through the dripping ceiling and pirs.

    Andras also struck down his ming sword and confronted Vikir.

    In what seemed to be the final battle, Vikir suddenly felt someone standing behind him.

    The same warmth he''d felt on the battlefields of Tochka.

    Afort he didn''t want to admit.

    Then, a small voice echoed in Vikir''s ear.

    ''You''ve grown up.''

    The voice sounded so clear like it was right next to him.

    At the memory, Vikir felt an unexined emotion welling up in his chest.

    This intense, vomit-like emotion was directed at his father, Hugo.

    It was something he''d spent his entire life, through two lifetimes, denying, suppressing, and eradicating.

    And it burst out like an explosion, carrying the aura of the tip of the sword.

    ...kwakwakwakwakwakwang!

    A straight line is formed by the movement of a huge, swirling ck sun.

    ck Lightning.

    It soon splits into nine trajectories, each stretching forward.

    Nine teeth, each piercing, grasping, tearing, cutting, slicing, dismembering, crushing, mincing, and mashing.

    The perfection of Baskerville''s swordsmanship tore the world apart.

    In the Grave of Swords, CaneCorso''s demonstration of ''The Ultimate Level of Killing Intent'' unfolds.

    It is a level of swordsmanship unheard of even in the Age of Destruction.

    Even for Andras, the pinnacle of predators, this was his first time experiencing it.

    [What kind of nonsense...!?]

    A sh that goes beyond eight directions and tears through all nine directions.

    Andras struggled in the midst of the torrent that crushed his entire body.

    But the oue had already been decided.

    The winds whipped around and the fragments of his aura were oxidized with intense mes.

    ...ppajig!

    The sword broke.

    Kazanbai, one of the Seven Demon Swords, was burning bright red and crumbling to pieces.

    Andras''s body was the same way.

    Lava boiled from cracks all over his body.

    His wings were tattered, and his two eye sockets were ckened and withered.

    Vikir realized it was all over.

    Though it had taken all of his strength, he had gotten what he wanted.

    Once and for all, the life of Andras, the Marquis of Discord.

    ...Thud!

    Atst, thest enemy, Andras, fell to his knees.

    Vikir held out his magic sword, Beelzebub, for the final word.

    "Demon kill."

    The immutable logic of death and rebirth.

    The ideology of demon hunters can be said to be dogma itself.

    ...However, there was one more absolute thing that did not change.

    [I can''t help it].

    That is the malice of demons toward humans.

    It''s like that smile on Andras''s face at the end, even though he''s exhausted all his power.

    [What did they say about stories that sell for a reason?]

    Andras''s ckened, dying eyes once again emanated a darkness that was almost unbearable.

    [...I couldn''t agree more].

    Even Vikir could not help but pause at the strangeposure of Andras, who was showing signs of extinction.

    [The protagonist awakens at thest moment and faces the final boss in a one-on-one fight. In the end, the protagonist ovees through the power of love and friendship. The viin''s final struggle must also be present, right? True despair].

    "The concept of emptiness does not work."

    [Huhuhu- I don''t y such shallow tricks].

    The ominous darkness emanating from Andras''s eyes grew darker and darker.

    Suddenly, Vikir saw Andras'' current form oveid with a memory from the past.

    It was thest of Andrealphus the 3rd Corpse, and uros the 2nd Corpse.

    Both of the demons he had in before had been willing to pay with their lives to open the Gate of Destruction.

    At a heavy price, of course.

    Not so, Andras said.

    [I, too, have no choice but to open the Gate of Destruction with my own magic and life.]

    "Enough of this nonsense. I know that the Gate of Destruction can only be opened once."

    There is already information obtained from Seere and Decarabia.

    The Gate of Destruction can only be opened once in this life, even by the most powerful demons.

    Since uros has already failed to open and maintain the Gate of Destruction this time, there is no way the Gate of Destruction can be opened in this world anymore.

    "I''m sorry, but the Gate of Destruction has already been opened by uros, and he has failed to keep it open, because of this torrential rain and the great flood that is now falling."

    [Oh, so that was you? I thought it was just bad luck that the great st remaining dragon" was awakening at that time...]

    "Once the gate is closed, it''s closed, and now it can never be opened again. No matter what sacrifices you make."

    Andras smirked at Vikir''s deration.

    [...Well, is that true?]

    Andrasughed bitterly. And he continued speaking in a rxed tone.

    [I''m afraid I''m the one who''s sorry. There''s one more Gate of Destruction, and it''s already wide open.]

    "...!"

    Vikir''s eyes widened.

    Then Decarabia, who was hanging on Vikir''s chest, shouted.

    [It''s ugly, Andras. To prolong your life with such lies. There is only one Gate of Destruction. How can you say that you can create two when it takes thebined mana of ten demon-king demons to create one in the first ce!]

    [Hahahaha- What is it, Decarabia? You''re acting funny, but I''m not lying, another Gate of Destruction is already open.]

    Andras burst outughing.

    [No, not just one! I can open more than a hundred!]

    At the same time.

    Andras gathered hisst remaining mana and summoned ck magic circles around him one after another.

    Kiiiiiiiing-!

    Dozens of dark portals drew in the air.

    All of them were magic circles that didn''t require much mana.

    However.

    "...!"

    In an instant, Vikir''s expression stiffened.

    [You. I called you].

    Vikir''s mind shed back to the conversation he''d had with Andras when they''d first met.

    [It was I who brought you back.]

    What Andras summoned was not a portal to pr hell.

    ''Oh no!''

    A world line where the door to Pr Hell is already open.

    It was a portal to the world where Vikir originally lived before regressing.

 Chapter 485: The Marquis of Discord (5)

    <h4>Chapter 485: The Marquis of Discord (5)</h4>

    The river of blood has finally dried up.

    The decades-long war between the human and demon realms has been recorded in the history books as the Age of Destruction.

    And the day the human world''s victory was carved into stone.

    A head was hung on the main gate of Baskerville House, a house known for its Iron-Blooded Swordsmen.

    <Name: Vikir Van Baskerville>

    <Crime: Internal Communication>

    Vikir. ''Vikir van Baskerville''.

    The illegitimate son of Hugo Le Baskerville, the patriarch of House Baskerville.

    A shadowy figure with countless blood on his hands for years behind the scenes.

    The hound of the House of Baskerville.

    * * *

    ....

    A severed head is speechless.

    The world in which the dog''s neck hung was still suffering from the aftermath of the war.

    The Imperial Capital was destroyed in half.

    The Red and ck Mountains were devastated by fire and water.

    The Colosseo Academy is in ruins.

    Dozens, perhaps hundreds, of Hell Tree that soared into the sky.

    Leviathan, Don Quixote, and Usher, are still shrouded in Red Death.

    Baskerville, where only smoke rises.

    The fallen Quovadis.

    The fallen Bourgeois.

    Morg, struggling alone.

    In Tochka, dead bodies dried up due to the depletion of drinking water.

    Broken angel statue.

    A crumbling clock tower.

    The Nouvelle Vague vanished without a trace....

    How can he forget such familiar scenes!

    How can he forget this wastnd, reddened with the blood of so many fallenrades...!

    "...! ...! ...!"

    Vikir shuddered as if struck by lightning.

    Indeed.

    Andras had not opened the Gate of Destruction.

    However, it was no different from opening the Gate of Destruction.

    A world beyond where the Gate of Destruction is already open.

    The world that Vikir lived and died in before he regressed.

    The portals to it have been thrown wide open!

    [Huhuhuhu- A world line where the Gate to Destruction is already open. It''s the gate leading to that ce.]

    This wasn''t just Andras''s ability alone.

    Emperor''s blood.

    Golding Gerald, the first Emperor of Rock, the great empire that united the continents, was said to have the ability to see the future.

    The first crown prince of the Golding family, who inherited the bloodline of the first emperor, also possessed the power inherent in his blood.

    Thebination of his host''s ability to foresee the future and his own ability to open a gate gave Andras the ability to jump through time and open a gate to the past or future.

    In other words, he has the power to interfere in parallel worlds.

    While this ability was quite limited in many ways, it was still a tremendous power.

    Unlike the other Ten Corpses, Andras chose a host with the most power he could muster.

    The result was that Vikir was standing here now.

    Andras smirked.

    [Are you finally willing to make a deal? Tell me who my brother is and where he is now, and I''ll spare you the worst of it].

    "...."

    [You''re not nning on destroying this world either, are you? Are you nning to bring only misfortune wherever you go? Isn''t it necessary to protect at least one of the world?]

    "...."

    Vikir frowned.

    The original world where he had died.

    The Gate of Destruction has already been opened, and the destruction of pr hell has descended.

    Tsutsutsutsutsutsuts...

    There was a bridge between that world and the current one.

    It was only a bridge, but it was still indirectly connected to Hell.

    The rains of fire will flood.

    Countless demons would cross over.

    It was clear that countless human beings would perish once again.

    However.

    "...In thest life, humans were victorious. In any case, the Age of Destruction is over."

    Yes.

    Although 99% of humanity perished, and Vikir himself was executed at the end of the story in a plot left by the demon, ... humanity was not wiped out as a result.

    The Great Flood cameter, ending the rainy season of fear.

    All of the Ten Corpses were either dead or disappeared with their magic power wasted.

    The thousand fires that lit the world were extinguished, and the remnants of the monsters were hunted down.

    Everything must be righted.

    All the vile things that crossed the Gate of Destruction eventually vanished.

    As a result, the humans, once as numerous as grains of sand on a white beach, were reduced to a handful, but a victory was a victory nheless.

    "So, even if you created a portal to the other world, there are no mes and monsters to cross over."

    Vikir said through clenched teeth.

    Before the regression, humanity avoided the apocalypse thanks to the sacrifices of countless heroes.

    It was a vision he saw clearly before his throat was cut.

    But Andras merelyughed in disbelief.

    [Do you really think so?]

    "...what?"

    [Do you really think the destruction is over and you humans have won?]

    Andras goes beyond ridicule and bursts intoughter.

    And underneath that unpleasant smile, there was a hint ofposure and malice that could not be hidden.

    Soon, several more portals opened around him.

    Tsutsutsutsutsutsutsutsutsuts...

    A portal with an eerie aura.

    A mirror-like transparent membrane appeared in the darkness.

    The world beyond the portal became a little more visible.

    A widernd and a higher sky came into view.

    A moment.

    "...!?"

    Vikir''s eyes widened in shock and disbelief.

    His pupils fluttered as he saw a world he didn''t recognize.

    After Vikir was executed, the world was bing more and more cruel.

    He sees a great fire rising from the teau where the surviving humans had gathered.

    The roar of giant monsters that were thought to be extinct can be heard.

    Centipedes wrapping themselves around mountains, cephalopods asrge as inds rising from the sea, giants tearing through the earth, birds sorge they cover the sky, and various ferocious monsters racing across thend.

    And there were demons, some of them seemingly powerful, leading hordes of monsters on a rampage.

    The deserts of the east were turned into muddy pools of human blood.

    Storms were blowing, strong enough to turn the jungles of the west into a wastnd.

    The seas to the south have been turned to rotten water by a virulent gue.

    A tsunami of me so hot that it turned the snowy fields of the north intova fields.

    The demons and monsters that rampaged in hordes were more numerous and far more vicious than any of Vikir''s most desperate times.

    O-ooooooooo...

    All that could be heard were cries of rage, sorrow, and agony.

    The few remaining humans were fighting back desperately, but it was clear that they would notst long.

    "Oh, how can this happen? Surely I died after seeing the victory of the Human Alliance...!?"

    It was rare for Vikir to panic.

    Especially since he''d regressed.

    But what was happening now would surely surprise even a seasoned veteran who had crossed so many lines of fire.

    "This is ridiculous. Is that really the world I used to live in?"

    Vikir''s pupils trembled.

    The world in front of him was indeed his original world.

    This was the intuition of a superhuman.

    A terrifying sight that far surpassed all the horrors Vikir had seen and heard before his return.

    A sight so horrifying that even a Regressor who had lived through the Age of Destruction would be appalled.

    -We''re down! More demons areing!

    -Annihtion! This is annihtion!

    -This is... impossible!

    -How much longer do we have to fight!

    -Kill me! Just kill me!

    -I''d rather have been there when the Gate of Destruction first appeared.

    -The heroes are all dead!

    -...It''s over, it''s the real end of the world.

    .

    .

    Countless people were dying.

    The situation has gotten so bad that even the great heroes of the Age of Destruction, the great heroes who fought alongside Vikir, are dying like garbage.

    The monsters that burst forth from the Gate of Destruction, and the Ten Corpses who led them, had been little more than a ''tutorial''.

    Vikir doubted twice or thrice that Andras was showing some kind of illusion.

    [...Human. That''s not an illusion or brainwashing, it''s real].

    It''s not a lie, since the same thing is being seen through the eyes of the demon Decarabia.

    What they were seeing through the portal was clearly the world after Vikir''s execution.

    Andras clutched his gaping stomach in disbelief.

    [What did I tell you earlier, that the world was much more stable after your death? If I were to be honest, that was a lie.]

    "You can''t do that! I surely died watching all ten of them lose!"

    [You saw it well, It''s true that we failed. In any case, it is ''us''.]

    "...!?"

    Andras chuckled.

    [As long as the ''Gate of Destruction'' remains, the demons will be able to rebuild their power, do you know why?]

    Andras''s words were followed by an unbelievable statement.

    [Because we Ten Corpses are only the ''weakest'' among the Demon Lords.]

    Obvious story.

    Amon clich��.

    ...But there is a reason why those things work.

    That''s because the obvious andmon things reflect reality best.

    And then, beyond the many portals, giant shadows are revealed.

    Tsutsutsutsutsutsutsutsutsutsutsu...

    The shadows were so huge, so vast, that as if the world beyond wasn''t dark enough, they stretched beyond the portals into the world here.

    Andras said.

    [I am Andras. ''Marquis of Discord''. and a demon of the Bottom Seats ranked only 63rd in the 72 ranks.... Do you understand what this means?]

    With a smile that tore the corners of his mouth past the base of his ears and up to the crown of his head.

    [It means that beyond that Gate of Destruction, there are 62 demons stronger than me].

 Chapter 486: The Marquis of Discord (6)

    <h4>Chapter 486: The Marquis of Discord (6)</h4>

    [Beyond that Gate of Destruction, there are sixty-two demons stronger than me.]

    The impact hitting the back of the head instantly turns his vision into a dizzying darkness.

    Vikir could tell Andras''s words were mocking, but not untrue.

    "...! ...! ...! ...!"

    Vikir could feel the malicious gazes from all sides of the portal now, cutting into his skin in real-time.

    His skin burned as if it had been under a magnifying ss for a long time, the unpleasant sensation of countless worms burrowing deep into his insides, and the feeling of being watched by countless eyes.

    He could feel the other 62 great evils watching him.

    The gazes from beyond the wall of searing ck mes were like thick spears, piercing into his body and soul.

    If it were a normal person, just receiving one of these gazes would have been enough to make them vomit blood and die.

    Tsutsutsutsutsutsutsu...

    Vikir watched as gigantic shadows were cast beyond the dozens of portals Andras had created.

    The neb-eating serpent, the leader of the insects, the king of the vampires, the scorpion that spewed dark venom, the woman who was beautiful on the outside but no one could tell what was inside, the desert-eating monkfish, the lord of all things rotten, the centipede that scales mountains, the one who walks beneath the sea, the giant that tears up the earth, the fire-drinking lion, the bird with wings that covers the sky, the executioner of the graveyard, the corpse that lies rotting in the swamp, the tentacles that burrow deep, and so on....

    Things with all sorts of sinister names were showing interest in this world.

    They salivate and turn to look this way.

    A world where the Gate of Destruction has not yet been opened, where there is still so much to destroy and ruin!

    Vikir gritted his teeth.

    ...!

    Some of the great shadows cast beyond the portal have already noticed the presence of this world.

    And some of the more vile among them were preparing to cross over.

    Gazes that convey a huge malice and an intense desire for destruction that have never been felt before, even in the Age of Destruction.

    Andras chuckled.

    [The 62 Demons of the Otherworld are absolutes that not even I can stand against, and among them are noble ones that I dare not even fathom, whose shadows on the ground cannot even be kissed.]

    "...."

    Vikir looked out over the great portal at the forefront.

    A single shadow loomed over the army of demons.

    It emanated a nostril-bursting stench.

    The name ''Baal'' can be seen written on the g in thenguage of a long-extinct demonic sovereign.

    The shadow of evil it cast was thicker, darker, and more ominous than any other.

    ''...You seem stronger and more evil than all Ten Corpses I''ve ever facedbined.''

    Even Decarabia, hanging from his chest, trembled.

    [This is the ''Mother of Destruction'', the mother of the 72 demons. When she crosses over, it will be the end of all things, the end of this world. She is the one and the all, the all and the one. ....]

    Vikir suddenly realized the meaning of Decarabia''s words.

    [Are you confident, then, that you can bear the wrath of your own people, that you can take the wrath of one who is ''one and all'', who is ''all and one'', with your whole body?]

    [...The answer will be kept secret forever by covenant.]

    A line of dialog between Belial and Decarabia during the battle at Bourgeois.

    It was a warning to the remaining 62 demons beyond the portal, perhaps preparing for reinforcements after the Age of Destruction.

    Andras spoke.

    [The construction of the Gate of Destruction. It is the building of a bridge over which the 72 demons of Pr Hell will cross with the armies they have recruited from their respective realms, and our row of bottom seats is the Pilot, who has crossed over to do just that].

    "...."

    [You thought the war was over after you died, but you were sorely mistaken. We on the other side of the world line have just finished our work and fallen back. Now the remaining humans in that world are facing their true destruction against the remaining 62 demons. You should be d you died before then and were brought to me.]

    Andras looked at Vikir.

    Then he opened his mouth, emanating darkness and a foul smell from his eyes.

    [It is not toote. If you tell me who and where my brother is, I can close this door now. I don''t want to send upward what I can finish in my line. World interference isplicated enough.]

    "..."

    [I know it''s not your world, but don''t you think this one is nicer to you now, and do you want it to be destroyed like that one, which is wrong anyway?]

    Andras conjured numerous illusions into the dark mists of his own creation.

    Sssssssssssssssssssss-

    It depicted all the people Vikir had met and all the connections he had made since his regression.

    ''Don''t try to take it all on yourself. You''vee all this way, think of the people who care about you.''

    ''All these people here are following you, Vikir, and they''re ready to follow you wherever you go, right?''

    ''You shouldn''t go inside because I''m always watching you. I don''t want you to get sick.''

    ''Stop fighting. My brother, I''m already feeling very disturbed.''

    ''...Are you going to the Imperial Castle? I''ve only encountered it in literature.''

    The voices in his head are as vivid as if they were right next to him.

    Camus has always been by his side.

    Dolores, who has been supporting him without making a sound.

    Aiyen, who not only saved his life but also crossed life and death with him many times.

    Sinir, who chose to stay by Vikir''s side despite her own conflicts and worries.

    Kirko, who turned his back on her homnd and followed Vikir into the terrible war ahead.

    That''s not all.

    Colleagues that he met in the jungle of ??the Red and ck Mountains.

    Friends from the Colosseo Academy.

    Ties made in Nouvelle Vague.

    The triplets Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro, who met in Baskerville as enemies and became trusted allies.

    Osiris, the eldest son, who was always distant and cold, but now seems like an older brother who is not good at expressing his emotions.

    The Seven Counts, now bonded in their own way.

    ... And Vikir''s feelings for Hugo that he still can''t exin.

    And the countless other faces that stare back at him.

    The darkness of his vision swells. The visions surrounded Vikir, animated as if they were within reach.

    [Now, you have no other choice, if you wish to close the portal, ept my offer.]

    Andras continues to wiggle his tongue, knowing full well that Vikir is in no position to defeat them.

    But. Vikir is not swayed at all.

    "I could kill you and close that door."

    [Are you still dreaming? The portal I have created cannot be closed by anyone but me! It is not like the Gate of Destruction! Have you seen the holes in your clothes close themselves? When I die, this portal will remain open forever!]

    Andras continued to urge Vikir on as if he were full of energy.

    But Vikir''s demeanor remained steadfast.

    "I don''t make deals with demons. I only kill them."

    [You''re insane. Do you really have no intention of closing this portal?]

    Andras''s threats were bing more and more tangible.

    The ends of the 62 shadows slowly falling beyond the portal converge toward Vikir.

    But despite this, Vikir maintains his unwavering demeanor.

    "No. I can close it."

    Andras was about to scream at the top of his lungs.

    ... Just then.

    Andras, who was just about to say, ''What can you do!'', could only squeak out the sound of the escaping wind.

    puug-

    A sword pierces through his chest.

    The sword pierced through his back and exited his chest, the back edge of the sword piercing right through Andras'' heart, which was pulsing with mana from the portal.

    [...?]

    Andras''s face instantly changed to that of the First Prince, Jack Merrydue.

    kkigigig-

    His head spins slowly, ticking like a rusty clockwork.

    Thendscape behind himes into view.

    There was a heavy coffin attached to an iron chain.

    Vikir had been carrying it on his shoulder ever since he entered the pce, ever since he sailed from Tochka.

    The coffin lid, heavy with the sense of duty, guilt, anger, and hatred for the demons that the old demon hunter had carried in his heart all his life, was now wide open.

    And the being thaty within was now driving a sword into Andras''s back.

    The crown prince''s eyes widened as he recognized the face.

    The owner of the hand that held the sword hilt.

    He was Piggy.

    Just Piggy, with nost name.

    An inferior student at the academy, a frail friend who had always followed Vikir.

    But somehow, the brilliance that radiated from his eyes right now was enough to overwhelm Andras, who stared back.

    Andras stammered into the crown prince''s mouth.

    [Golding... Golding Ralph. Golding Piggy Ralph And... No, Andras!]

    The Second Crown Prince, is one of the two branches of the Imperial bloodline.

    At the same time, the first of the Ten Corpses, another heteromorphic Andras and a heteromorphic Andras stood there.

    First Crown Prince and Second Crown Prince And the beings of this type gathered in one ce.

    <''First Corpse'' Andras>

    Danger Rating : S+

    Size: ?

    Found in: Serpent''s Womb, Deep Within the Gate of Destruction.

    -Nicknamed ''The First Corpse''.

    One of the Ten gues, the natural enemies of mankind, iprehensible and unkible.

    "Both worlds will be dark."

    �C ��Ten Commandments�� 10:1 �C

    It was the emergence of a true First Corpse.

 Chapter 487: The Marquis of Discord (7)

    <h4>Chapter 487: The Marquis of Discord (7)</h4>

    ''It will swarm like a swarm of flies.''

    The 10th Corpse ''The Inferior Second Son'' Andromalius.

    ''Boils will be rampant because of disease.''

    The 9th Corpse ''The Thousand Faces'' Dantalian.

    ''Livestock and herds will perish.''

    The 8th Corpse ''King of the Dead'' Seere.

    ''They will sweep away like a swarm of locusts.''

    The 7th Corpse ''Wailing Wall'' Decarabia.

    ''Lice will boil in your body and in your barns.''

    The 6th Corpse ''The Worthless One'' Belial.

    ''Take the life of the firstborn that year.''

    The 5th Corpse ''The Unicorn of the Abyss'' Amdusias.

    ''A horde of reckless frogs shall rise.''

    The 4th Corpse ''The Reckless Knight'' Cimeries

    ''There will be hail.''

    The 3rd Corpse ''The Ice Duke'' Andrealphus.

    ''I will turn water into blood.''

    The 2nd Corpse ''The Lying Panther'' by uros.

    ''Both worlds will be dark.''

    ... And the 1st Corpse ''The Marquis of Discord'' Andras.

    The 10 disasters that were cast over the royal family and the ominous beings that caused them.

    Now, with them all destroyed, there is only one remaining, the Marquis of Discord, Andras.

    And that Andras is inherently a being of two bodies.

    The two separate bodies have nowe together to face each other.

    They were Jack, the reigning heir to the throne, and Piggy, the rumored second in line to the throne.

    Vikir stared at Piggy''s face as he stood there, his expression stern.

    Why had Piggy turned away from the Academy, and from all rtionships with others, in the past?

    Was it simply a matter of bullying, harassment, and alienation?

    ...No.

    Vikir had suspected this from the beginning.

    ''Piggy is a much stronger friend than I thought. He''s not the type of person who gets lost simply because of bullying or loneliness.''

    Perhaps Piggy''s reason for leaving before the regression was because he questioned his lineage.

    Vikir made his own guess based on what had happened in the past.

    ''Piggy. Isn''t your blood supposed to be ck in color?''

    ''Huh? Aah, it''s always been this way, huh? It''s been like this since I was a kid, actually! The doctors said it''s because I have a lot of iron in my blood... but it seems like it''s gotten a little darker since I''ve been in the Hell Tree?''

    It was a guess that was rted to the phenomenon in which Piggy''s blood distorted the causalityw when he was trapped in the Hell Tree.

    Piggy died once in a previous fight with a demon.

    Three days after his death, the heavy lid of his coffin was lifted and he opened his eyes.

    The moment Piggy opened his eyes, this was the first thing he thought of.

    ''The reason you woke up first is because there was something you had to do first.''

    Vikir''s words were still ringing in his ears as he exited the Hell Tree.

    The weight and warmth on his shoulders.

    ''Never look back. From now on, you go alone.''

    In the cunning and malicious trap within the Hell Tree, where everything was trying to deceive and harm him, the only thing that pushed his back was the rough, scarred palm.

    Then, raising his head, Piggy locked eyes with a gaze from beyond the portal.

    ''...Please go where you arefortable.''

    It was a decapitated head, disyed on a tall pole.

    "...What I will do."

    Piggy lowered his gaze and looked at his hands.

    ck blood trickled down them.

    The handle of the sword piercing Andras''s heart was clearly visible.

    [Yes, you... Didn''t uros kill him, huh, he was the most suspicious of the candidates, so I told him to be extra careful...]

    The 2nd Corpse uros used the water source to dig a trap in order to get another form of Andras.

    Or to destroy it before it awakens and bes a threat.

    [What the hell did youe here for, to close the ''gate''?]

    Andras said through gritted teeth.

    Suddenly, Vikir had a point.

    It was the information about Andras that Decarabia had told him in the past.

    [Ahem! The structure of the body is heterogeneous. Normal living beings tend to divide individuals based on their own bodies, but that doesn''t work for him.]

    ''...What does that mean?''

    [In other words, you will divide and define human beings based on you. There is one human being named you, and if there is another human being who meets the same criteria, there is two. And three. Four. Five.... But not once. Two can be one, and one can be two. Since the criterion for separating the ''a'' and the ''non'' is outside the human concept, it is impossible to cut them ording to conventional wisdom.]

    ''I have no idea what you''re talking about. You mean, like you, you have an unusual body structure?''

    [Whatever. I don''t know much either. He''s a very secretive creature. But... I only heard that the roles of ''those who close the door'' and ''those who open the door'' are separate. This is all I know.]

    Decarabia is also an object-type, inanimate-type demon, so it has a very special body shape.

    But even Decarabia considered Andras''s form to be strange.

    One soul split in two. One body.

    It naturally led to rumors of the Oracle spreading throughout the world.

    An oracle that caused the civil war in the empire, an oracle that turned the Seven Great Houses against each other.

    It was said that the first and second crown princes, both descended from the blood of the first founding emperor, possessed the power of prophets, and that ''one of them would destroy the world, and the other would save it''.

    The reason for this civil war was to prevent the wrong crown prince from ascending to the throne.

    And the truth behind it was spoken by Andras, who took over the body of the first crown prince.

    [Fufufu- Yes. I am the one with the power to open the gate, and the other Andras, you have the power to close it. Which of us perishes first will determine the end of this dark cloud.]

    Andras grabbed the sword that had pierced his chest and crushed it in his hand.

    ...Kurrrr!

    mes flew towards Piggy.

    But it was blocked by Vikir.

    kwakwakwakwang!

    Vikir gritted his teeth as Andras''s magic burned and melted everything around him.

    "Even a crumbling body can unleash this much power."

    If Andras hadn''t been split in two, if he had killed Piggy and absorbed his soul, if he had even had the magic sword Asmodeus at his disposal, the result would have been unthinkable.

    [Open or close the gate, it''s time to choose one, don''t interfere!]

    Even at this moment, Andras was baring his sharp teeth and showering fireballs at Piggy.

    Kwakwakwakwakwang! Kurrrrrr!

    The entire Imperial Pce began to shake ferociously.

    Andras''s demeanor was desperate and desperate again.

    It was true that he wanted to find his brother and be one.

    But the way to be one was through the logic of a game of survival where each must kill the other.

    In front of him, Vikir couldn''t help but think of the past.

    When Grenouille''s participation in the war had killed Piggy, Vikir had personally picked up Piggy''s body.

    Just as he had before the regression.

    ''...I had also personally carried Piggy''s body back then. I was with him on his deathbed.''

    Vikir''s memory of the exact circumstances is hazy.

    But when he recalls the moment, he thinks.

    ''...He''s a good person.''

    It''s a phrase he''s heard over and over again in moments of crisis, and it sticks in his mind.

    Since then, Vikir has had some amazing experiences.

    Piggy''s body hadn''t dposed, even though it had been days since he''d returned from the battlefield.

    Piggy''s body smelled stronger as time passed.

    At the same time, there is also a bad smell.

    But it was of apletely different nature from the stench of dposition.

    Awakening.

    With his death, Piggy was reborn into somethingpletely different, something not human.

    It was due to another Andras self that had been dwelling near his soul all this time.

    "...I thought it was somehow simr to Seere."

    It was the way of demons hovered around their hosts, waiting to strike when their minds or bodies were at their weakest.

    As soon as Vikir smelled the familiar yet unfamiliar odor on Piggy, he held up the Mirror of Truth he had borrowed from Dolores to Piggy''s face.

    And in the mirror, he saw a surprising reflection.

    The First Emperor. The same face he''d seen so many times in portraits.

    Piggy''s lineage was now revealed to the world.

    The soul of another variant of Andras had been lingering around Piggy''s body, waiting for the moment of awakening.

    "I see now why your blood was able to close the Hell Tree."

    Piggy smiled faintly at Vikir''s words as he stood in front of him.

    Piggy''s soul, which hadn''t beenpletely extinguished, was able to remain in his body with the help of Camus.

    Andras''s ego, which unlike Seere''s, had apletely different structure, fused with Piggy''s soul, and as a result, Piggy was able to stand here now.

    ...Also.

    An intangible string connected Piggy and Vikir''s hearts.

    It was the same string that Andras had noted when he upied the body of the First Crown Prince, a strand of unbreakable bonds from the world before the Regression.

    [I remembered, Vikir, how you and I met in the other world, and....]

    Piggy opened his mouth in a tone that was somewhat sad, but full of longing and joy.

    [Why I brought you back.]

 Chapter 488: Running Hound (1)

    <h4>Chapter 488: Running Hound (1)</h4>

    [...I remembered why I brought you back.]

    Piggy''s voice was trembling slightly.

    At the same time, a memory of the past shed through Vikir''s mind.

    It was the same events that had unfolded before and after the regression.

    ''When did we bully you?''

    ''It''s just a friendly gesture, I''m going to see you for a long time.''

    ''Hey, why are you crying and XX, are you trying to make us look bad?''

    ''Hey. Don''t cry. Have a drink.''

    ''Ew! That''s so dirty! It''s all over my tights!''

    ''Wahahahaha! You puked, you crazy guy, you''ve been so colorful since OT!''

    ''From now on, your nickname will be Puke! Puking Piggy!''

    ''I''ll call you Puke until I graduate!''

    In his previous life, Piggy couldn''t handle the bullying and dropped out, bing a low-level government employee and struggling to make a living.

    His parents had gone into debt to send him to the Academy.

    Then, when the Age of Destruction began and the Great War against the demons began, Piggy volunteered to go to the front lines, where he made many contributions to the Allied Forces of Humanity by implementing numerous supply strategies, intelligence analysis, and collection measures.

    He was a respectablerade in arms.

    Although he left disappointed in the world and in himself, but he was strong enough to ovee his own trauma and join the Allied forces after seeing the Hell Tree rise in the Academy, the Imperial Capital burn, and his ssmates and civilians die.

    But just a few months into the war, Piggy is assassinated.

    Vikir still remembers the devastated look on his parents'' faces when they saw their son''s cold, dead body.

    So Vikir turned back and twisted the causal chain.

    ''You try to make a nuisance of yourself in the Academy one more time, and I will not only kill you but your father and mother as well.''

    The Night Hound terrorized the bullies who had been harassing his friend and deterred them from repeating their misdeeds.

    That small act of kindness rolled like a snowball and eventually made a huge difference.

    The result is the ultimate darkness, driving a sword into the heart of the mightiest demon!

    [I guess I, too, on the other side of the world line, thought you were my only friend.]

    Piggy''s words reminded Vikir of Piggy''sst moments before he regressed.

    Vikir had collected Piggy''s body then, too.

    At the time of the assassination, Piggy hadn''t died.

    When he was first found bleeding to death, many people turned away.

    In their defense, it was war and the situation was urgent.

    It was more urgent to heal one wound on a great hero than to spend the time and effort to save a dying Piggy.

    More people would be saved that way.

    The world is efficient.

    The world runs on cogs of cause and effect, and each of those cogs,rge and small, has a ce, a role, and a value.

    The small, insignificant cogs are left out in the cold while everyone else looks the other way.

    In distrust of the world, in loneliness, in bitter cynicism and resentment.

    Just then.

    A hand closed Piggy''s eyes.

    Wrinkled and scarred, covered in sticky blood, andpletely covered in burns and sword marks.

    ...but a big and warm hand.

    There was a boy there, a boy he''d met at the Academy, many, many years ago.

    Piggy stared at Vikir with narrowed eyes.

    It was a face he recognized. The servant of the boy who had shared the same room in the Academy dormitory.

    The hand that had wordlessly handed him medicine when he was beaten and crying.

    When no one else was around when he was traveling, he would quietly sit with him.

    When eating alone, he would sit across from him and stare off into space.

    When Piggy failed a test, when Piggy missed his mom so much, and when Piggyg thought about ending his life, he would appear from time to time tofort Piggy.

    And now, many yearster, in his final moments, whether by coincidence or necessity, the boy''s hand is still covering Piggy''s eyes.

    The boy was the only one who was nice to him throughout his entire school career.

    Though it was only a small, fleeting act of kindness, it remained in Piggy''s heart as big and warm as the sun.

    Suddenly, Piggy remembered the voice he had heard during his midterm exams at the Academy.

    Now that he thought about it, it was definitely the voice of a servant boy.

    ''It''s okay now.''

    The servant boy had said as he closed Piggy''s eyes.

    It had a far greater effect than any other magic in the world, making the pain in his body and mind vanish in an instant.

    The pain of his birth, the guilt of his parents, the obligations of being a child, the burden of his studies, the loneliness of not making friends, the world that had finally turned its back on him, the pain of his body, and one word that relieves it all.

    ''...Please go to a ce where you arefortable.''

    It was the ''constion of a friend.''.

    And as Piggy heard Vikir''s voice from beyond the time-shift in a vision, he heard a vision that Vikir had often heard, too.

    ''... He is a good man.''

    He remembers it clearly now.

    It was Piggy''sst words to him, not from beyond the time axis, but from his own memories.

    It was the same voice he''d heard every time he''d poured Piggy''s blood into demons like Amdusias, Cimeries, Andrealphus, and uros since his regression.

    [Many people say that humans are ck-haired animals.]

    "...."

    [The humans I have experienced are animals that remember the kindness they received.]

    The human Piggy looked at Vikir and smiled broadly.

    "You''re a good man, Vikir."

    It was a smile that could light up the world.

    Even Piggy, with his distrust of humanity, his cynicism, and bitterness, who had left the gates of destruction wide open without closing them, could not be as cold to Vikir as he was to this one man.

    It was impossible to turn away from him.

    Like the intangible link between Seere and Camus in the past, Piggy''s residual thoughts became a strong, unyielding bond that connected him to Vikir on the other side of the world line.

    The tenuous hope that the parallel world might have a different ending.

    As a result, Vikir regressed. No, the parallel time axis was skipped.

    By Piggy''s arrangement, which led Andras to choose and summon Vikir.

    It was the result of a coboration between Piggy from this world line, Piggy from that world line, and Andras of this type.

    A small, seemingly insignificant act of kindness to a stranger is the miracle that saves the world.

    ...And of course, there were those who could not understand this improbable and unreasonable coincidence.

    [Shout nonsense! How dare you fool anyone with such a ridiculous development!]

    Andras. Jack Merridew.

    He was awakened by hanging himself with an umbilical cord while he was still in his mother''s womb, and he made a strenuous effort from an early age to get rid of Piggy from his natural birth.

    Sending snakes to the cradle, deliberately forcing them into dangerous ces, kicking them out of the family, etc.....

    [I didn''t know that that lowly bitch would run away from the pce, but I should have just killed her right away. Ugghh!]

    However, Piggy shook his head.

    [Even if it weren''t for you, I would have died of my own ord, with all kinds of distrust of humanity and hatred of the world.]

    [...!]

    [If someone had said to me, ''You''re a good guy,'' it wouldn''t have happened].

    Piggy seemed to be imagining himself on another worldline.

    However.

    [On this side of the world, I''vee to know and understand a lot about humans. My family, my friends, and the people around me are all valuable and important].

    Tudor, Sancho, Bianca, Sinir, and Dolores, his ssmates from Colosseo Academy.

    And the countlesspanions who joined forces with him in the Hell Tree, therades-in-arms of Tochka who shared his burning thirst.

    With their faces in his heart, Piggy stepped inside the coffin.

    And, of course, Piggy chose.

    [I will close the gate.]

    Andras''s two selves are divided into ''the one who opens the gate'' and ''the one who closes the gate''.

    The gate that Andras(J) opened cannot be closed by Andras(J). It must be closed by Andras(P).

    Conversely, Andras(P) cannot open a gate that Andras(P) has closed. It must be opened by Andras(J).

    The gate opened by Jack can only be closed by Piggy.

    The gate that Piggy closed can only be opened by Jack.

    In the end, it was clear that without either of them, something irreversible would happen.

    Tsutsutsutsutsutsutsuts...

    The gate Andras had opened was being closed by Piggy.

    [Nooooooooooooooo!]

    Andras screamed, but it was toote.

    deng-geong- deng-geong- deng-geong- jjeog! peoeog!

    The gate mmed shut, severing the bodies of several giant demons that had been slowly pulling themselves out of the portal above.

    The neb-eating serpent, the leader of the insects, the king of the vampires, the scorpion that spewed dark venom, the woman who was beautiful on the outside but no one could tell what was inside, the desert-eating monkfish, the lord of all things rotten, the centipede that scales mountains, the one who walks beneath the sea, the giant that tears up the earth, the fire-drinking lion, the bird with wings that covers the sky, the executioner of the graveyard, the corpse that lies rotting in the swamp, the tentacles that burrow deep, and so on....

    ...kung! ...kwakwang! ...kuleuleung!

    Dismembered body parts of demons fall to the ground, causing an earthquake.

    [Ugh... Uuuuuuggh...!]

    Andras shuddered with rage.

    Even now, the 62 portals are slowly closing.

    [You can''t do that! If you want to close them, I''ll keep them open!]

    Andras clenched his remaining magic power.

    Tsutsutsutsutsutsutsuts...

    If Piggy closes and Andras opens, the result is the same anyway.

    From now on, it''s just a matter of who has more magic and who can interfere with the door the fastest.

    However.

    "Are you sure you''re not forgetting me?"

    Andras felt his heart split in two, then four.

    Vikir was standing in front, driving his sword into Andras'' heart.

    ...ppuug!

    Vikir continued to drive the sword into Andras''s body.

    Kazanbai has been destroyed and Asmodeus is in the hands of Kirko in the distance.

    Only one of the twin swords that symbolized Andras remains, and even that is now destroyed.

    Furthermore, having failed to steal Piggy''s soul and body, Andras is left with only half of himself.

    In such a situation, there was no way that Vikir, who had developed as many as nine teeth, would be pushed aside.

    peopeopeopeopeopeopeopeopeog!

    Andras''s body was crumbling in real-time.

    The hound knew victory was within reach.

    He pushed harder and harder to break his prey''s neck.

    ...at that moment.

    "!?"

    Vikir''s eyes widened to tears.

    ck blood sshed from Andras''s body.

    It flows into Vikir''s body through his wounds.

    Tsutsutsutsutsutsutsutsuts...

    Just as Piggy''s blood had shocked the demon, Andras'' blood was causing Vikir to experience a strange phenomenon unlike anything he had ever experienced before.

    [Didn''t I tell you? I inherited the lineage of the founding legend, the First Emperor.]

    It is not the blood of a demon, but the blood of a human being.

    A relic of an ancient hero who was said to have possessed the most unique ability in the history of mankind, a unique ability that allowed him to rise to the pinnacle of all mankind.

    It was his power as a member of the Imperial Family, the Golding Family of the Prophet n.

    [Now, this is a ''Spoiler''. I''m about to show you your future.]

    Andrasughed as he gripped Vikir''s arms tightly.

    [...After a lifetime of entangling yourself with demons, Aren''t you curious how your life will end?]

 Chapter 489: Running Hounds (2)

    <h4>Chapter 489: Running Hounds (2)</h4>

    The blood of the Imperial Family, who possess astrology, astronomy, and other abilities to foretell the future.

    The first crown prince, Jack, is the one who inherited the abilities of the founding Emperor, whose ability to see the future led to the beginning of the empire.

    Andras is currently using Jack''s body as a host to maximize the abilities in his bloodline.

    [Keulleog!]

    Pieces of crushed internal organs and ck dead blood are gushing out from under the lower jaw, which has fallen all the way to the chest.

    The cracks all over his body burned brightly.

    Tsk tsk tsk tsk tsk tsk tsk tsk tsk tsk tsk tsk tsk tsk tsk tsk tsk tsk tsk tsk tsk tsk tsk...

    His body was slowly, gradually, in real-time, crumbling like ash from a burned-out volcano.

    However.

    [...I see!]

    All the while, Andras continued to emit angry streams of mana from his eyes like dark clouds.

    The flow of mana gathers in one ce, creating red blood veins.

    The veins converged again, forming the shape of a giant eyeball.

    The eyeball floated high in the air, casting an eerie re down at the ground.

    In a situation where the life of the body had reached its peak, this one evil demon was squeezing out all the vitality that was depleted and showing off his foresight that had risen to an unprecedented limit.

    [...See! see! Your future!]

    And then, with a foresight so urate that even the demon shuddered, it flowed out of the crown prince''s body.

    A swamp of blood and gore, a mountain of bones, an atmosphere drained of mana, and a massive mushroom cloud rising over the distant horizon.

    It was amon sight in the Age of Destruction, one that had been seen many times before in the Hell Tree.

    This is what Vikir''s mental image of the world was like floating in the residual thoughts of Amdusias.

    However. what was about to unfold was certainly unlike anything Vikir had ever seen before.

    ...An endless, barren desert.

    ...A massive tower towering in the middle of the desert.

    ...An old man in ck walks lonely and alone toward the tower.

    Each vision pierces Vikir''s mind, fragmented and disjointed.

    They are unfamiliar memories that Vikir has never experienced firsthand.

    But they were also memories he''d experienced many times before, often indirectly.

    ''...I''m sure it was when I faced Amdusias in the Hell Tree when Piggy''s blood closed the Hell Tree, and when I faced Cimeries.''

    A world in mes, the Age of Destruction.

    A moment of apocalypse, when the ground melted and the breath of all living things burned away.

    But the future that Andras''s blood was showing him now was a muchterndscape.

    [See! You look old as time goes by! your shadow all alone!]

    Of course, what Andras sees is what Vikir sees as well.

    A deste desert that stretched for miles and miles. An old man pacing in solitude with nothing around him.

    He coughed dryly as his long, gray beard and ck fringe of hair blew in the dry wind.

    There is no one, nothing, in sight as the old man traverses the vast desert.

    A few images shed past him, but they were too fleeting to be sure.

    [See it! See it clearly! You say you value your rtionships with those around you now, but in the end, you are alone! You''re all alone in your old age, wandering around alone and rooted nowhere!]

    Only Andras burst outughing.

    In the meantime, thendscape continued to move quickly.

    The old man crossed the desert.

    The old man, bravely wading through strong winds and quick quicksand, looked solitary and lonely.

    [See! You are being chased! You are fleeing from those who are pursuing you!]

    His long beards blowing in the sandstorm.

    The old man pauses for a moment, noticing something towering above the endless desert horizon.

    It was a tower. A single tower, jutting out like a sword.

    Andras''s blood-red eyes shed.

    [A life where you have to run away from pursuit until the end of your life! Words that reflect on loneliness and solitude! But those who pursue you will find you! And in the end, you will reach where you are! You cannot run away from them! Forever! Forever! Hahaha- I see it, the furious looks of those who pursue you, your miserable future, bound and shackled to them forever!]

    It naturally made Vikir recall the trauma of his previous life.

    Memories of running away while falsely used.

    How he was eventually caught by the hounds of the Baskerville family and left covered in blood.

    Being dragged to the guillotine, leaving a trail of blood on the ground.

    Eventually, his throat was cut.

    Cold sweat trickles down Vikir''s face.

    Eventually, Andras predicted Vikir''s end.

    [In the end, there will be five bodies!]

    Five Body Divisions. The terrible punishment that began to be popr during the Warring States Period by the emperor of the Demonic Suzerainty.

    Vikir himself was once nearly subjected to this before being sentenced to the guillotine, so naturally, he can''t help but get a shiver down his spine.

    "...."

    The Hound gritted his teeth.

    His breath caught in his throat. His lungs were constricting with cold sweat, and his mind was bing foggy.

    ''Cradle'' and ''Grave''.

    ...The time between these two ces, at either end of the timeline of life, is life.

    What kind of life was it?

    And again, ''grave'' and ''cradle''.

    Vikir recalled the middle link of memory that connected the end of the first life to the beginning of the second.

    Vikir.

    He struggled.

    He had always struggled.

    An illegitimate son, the child of a concubine.

    Hence the Van middle name.

    He wasn''t even born with a family name, like La or Le, which his siblings were given, so he had to work a hundred times harder than everyone else.

    But it didn''t end well for him.

    After crossing so many lines of fire, luck finally turned against him.

    He was falsely used of being a demon spy and executed.

    The Hound thought intensely.

    ''I want to live.''

    ''I want to live again.''

    ...And a miracle happened.

    eung-ae-

    The flutter of a butterfly''s wings from a previous life. A small, insignificant change.

    And the end of that change changed the world dramatically.

    ...Of course, the hound didn''t do it alone.

    Many, many faces have worked to bring him this far.

    Even at this very moment, when he thinks of them fighting bloody battles with monsters outside the Imperial Pce, he can''t just sit here and break out in a cold sweat.

    "Demon Kills."

    Despite the string of dire prophecies about his graying hair, Vikir was undaunted.

    For the sake of his colleagues, he can''t afford to wallow in sentimentality.

    A single praying mantis cannot stop the gigantic wheel of cause and effect.

    But even so, he must resist the reality at hand as best he can.

    That was a much better choice than being swayed by the demon''s tricks.

    But Andras smiles from ear to ear.

    And with a final flick of his tongue at Vikir, he said.

    [Think carefully, all you see in your words is a ''grave''! Only the terrible fate of having your body and mind cut into five pieces awaits you! If you change your mind even now, you can change this future!]

    The demon does not stop ying tricks on humans until thest moment.

    ...huug!

    At the same time, a thick darkness rose from Andras''s entire body.

    All the illusions that Vikir had ever seen, including Nymphet, were blooming there.

    Therades he had failed to save, the friends he had sent on their way, and the countless dead he had mourned stared back at him.

    As before, he raised his tongue like a dagger and aimed forward.

    However.

    ... sh!

    The red light emanating from Vikir''s eyes saw right through all of these illusions.

    A void of nothingness.

    A being like the dark nothingness that forms the abyss of magic.

    Vikir realized with a startling realization.

    In the end, Andras is empty.

    Nothing (Nevermore).

    He was nothing more than The Raven, visiting a frail and weary body in the dead of night.

    "...."

    Suddenly, Vikir was about to say the words he had always repeated dogmatically, ''Demon Kills''.

    The emotions that were boiling inside of him now would not be resolved by the words alone.

    The hatred of the demons that had umted over the course of his two lives, the self-pity he felt for himself, the regret he felt for what he hadn''t aplished and what he couldn''t do, the regret and guilt he felt for the rtionships he had lost, and theplicated thoughts he had about his father, Hugo.

    The frustration, sense of istion, resentment, and anger about all of these things swell greatly with each inhtion.

    ...Pakang!

    Vikir drew his sword at full length.

    He shed straight through the visions in front of him, forcing all of those old, stale emotions he''d been storing up in his lungs toe out of his bloodied throat.

    [...!?]

    Andras''s eyes widen to tears.

    jjeoeog-

    Vikir''s sword fell like a bolt of lightning.

    A final leap to slice through nothingness. The will of man.

    Just before the head of thest enemy, thest demon falls off from the body and flies away.

    The hound, who had been biting and killing demons all his life, opened his mouth with a sigh of relief.

    "Fuck you."

    It was his personal feelings revealed for the first time.

 Chapter 490: Running Hounds (3)

    <h4>Chapter 490: Running Hounds (3)</h4>

    I close my eyes and listen to the waves.

    I can''t see the sky, the sea, or anything else in the darkness, but I can feel the gritty sand between my toes.

    When the waves hit the sandbank and break, my slender wrists il.

    The waves wash away the little sand I hold in my hand.

    I cry and hold on, but I get nothing back.

    Not the waves. Not the sand. Not even my tears.

    I ask through my stitched mouth.

    -God. Can''t you hold them tighter?

    -Isn''t it possible to save even just a handful more from those cruel waves?

    -The ones I''m holding now, or maybe I am clutching.

    -Is all this simply a dream within a dream?

    My beloved looks down on My wailing from the sandbank.

    I speak with a sewn mouth.

    -Don''t sing me a sad song when I''m gone.

    -Do not nt red orchids or green marigolds next to my head.

    -Just put a sword at my grave to cut through the weather and time.

    -And if you have a moment to spare, remember me.

    -But even if you forget, I can''t do anything about it.

    -Because I won''t be able to hold your throbbing heart, or listen to your bleeding throat.

    -Just follow the cry of an owl screaming in grief.

    -Buried in the dawn twilight, dreaming and stirring.

    -At some point, out of nowhere, I might remember the face of the person I loved.

    -Or perhaps I shall forget.

    * * *

    "...!"

    Vikir snapped out of his daze.

    For a moment, his legs gave out and he nearly copsed.

    They say the heaviest thing in the world is an eyelid.

    Vikir felt the mana drain from his body like a tide.

    A chill ran down his spine. His toes and fingertips were so cold they felt like they were about to fall off.

    The magic sword Beelzebub protruding from his wrist had never felt so heavy and sharp.

    ...Kung!

    The vibration transmitted to the floor, this heavy feeling.

    Vikir''s body did not create it.

    Nor could it have been, for Vikir never knelt on the floor, even under these circumstances.

    What had fallen to the floor was the head of a demon.

    Andras.

    First Corpse. Marquis of Discord. Thest enemy. Thest demon.

    With the head of an owl, it fell to the floor in a spray of thick blood.

    Vikir''s 9th Form was so powerful that the severed part of his neck showed no signs of regeneration.

    No.

    jjeojeojeog-

    The petrified, crumbling cut showed no sign of regeneration.

    Andras was really dying.

    Neither the soul nor the body can go anywhere, it is eternal death.

    "...Did you do it?"

    Vikir muttered to himself.

    Moment.

    [Human! Don''t say such ominous things! Survive again!]

    Dekarabia shuts Vikir''s mouth in a panic.

    Vikirughed, dryly, but with a hint of blood.

    The moment you foreshadow the end, what follows is also a story that sells well and is an obvious clich��.

    But this time, there was no such predictable event.

    Andras poured out all of his strength and, as a result, self-destructed from within.

    To add insult to injury, Baskerville''s ultimate move struck him, the 9th Form and his soul was torn to shreds.

    ...Of course, that didn''t mean Andras was instantly annihted.

    [Hahahaha- so this is how it ends?]

    Andras''s two ckened eyes radiated darkness.

    His tongue still moved, even though only his severed head remained.

    Though it has stiffened considerably.

    [You have won, demon hunter. The Gate of Destruction will soon close, and you and the other humans will never meet the rest of the demons.]

    "...."

    [But is that a good thing, is it the right thing to do, for all of humanity].

    Andras smirked.

    [In a way, you''ve blown your chance to atone for the original sin of humanity...]

    But Andras didn''t get to finish his sentence.

    Vikir lifted his foot and stomped on the severed head.

    ...pulsseog!

    Andras'' body and head turn into spicy, fine ash and flutter.

    Then, in Vikir''s ears, Andras''s prophecy hovered over Asrai and vanished.

    [A life of running and fleeing from chase until the end of time, with words of loneliness and solitude].

    [But those who pursue you will find you, and in the end, they will reach where you are.]

    [You cannot escape from them. For all time. Forever.]

    [I see the furious faces of those who pursue you. Your miserable future, bound and shackled to them forever.]

    Traumasts a long time.

    Vikir, who in the past had to suffer a long chase after being used of being a traitor and a spy, gritted his teeth and endured the prophecies, or rather curses, left behind by Andras.

    [In the end, there shall be five pieces!]

    That was the end.

    Andras shattered and vanished.

    Completely broken and gone, literally gone, even from the world beyond the threshold of death.

    At the same time.

    kudeudeudeudeudeudeu-

    The floor began to shake violently.

    The Imperial Pce was copsing.

    The copse was probably triggered by the raging naval battle outside.

    kwakwakwakwang!

    The roof and pirs behind him copsed and a huge tentacle fell down.

    Torn and charred pieces of the Kraken''s leg flew everywhere.

    "Looks like things are starting to clear up outside ...."

    Vikir turned his head.

    Beyond the crumbling rubble, a portal still stood open.

    And standing at the portal was Piggy. Arade-in-arms through two lives.

    "It''s been hard, really."

    Piggy smiled sadly at Vikir.

    Vikir asked.

    "...What happens now?"

    "Simple, once I close thisst portal, it''s all over."

    The Gate of Destruction closed.

    There was only one portal left leading to a world where the Gate to Destruction was open.

    "I can only close gates, not open them, so once I close this one, all gates are gone, forever."

    "...."

    Vikir nodded silently.

    An exhausted hound, at the end of a long journey. Can hey down now, his body crushed in a bloody ball?

    ...No.

    There was still one thing left to do.

    No, the biggest one. There is indeed a task to be done.

    kkudeug-

    Vikir rose to his feet, clutching his knees with his hands.

    He turned to face Piggy, his gaze unwavering.

    Finally, Piggy turned to Vikir and asked.

    "Before I close thest portal, I''m going to give you a choice."

    "...."

    "Do you want to go back to the world you came from?"

    Yes.

    The world beyond the portal is a world where Vikir is dead and gone.

    With a new body in this world, the Hound is ready to cross over once again.

    But deep down, Piggy doesn''t want Vikir to go there.

    "Once you go back, you can nevere back here again. The bond is severed. It''s goodbye forever."

    The other world has almost returned to peace.

    The Rainy Season of Fear had ended as quickly as it had begun, and the great flood would soon be over.

    The demons have been annihted.

    Many people have survived, and all demons and monsters will perish.

    "Now all you have to do is live a happy life with those who follow you. You don''t have to go back to the barren world you came from, do you?"

    Piggy is right.

    The other world is popted by 62 demons, each more powerful than thest.

    A world overflowing with destruction and apocalypse far more terrible than the worst times Vikir has ever experienced.

    It must be a hell of unearthly proportions.

    Piggy said impatiently.

    "Some of them have not yet given up their love for this world, and I can feel them swarming toward this one remaining portal."

    Thest portal Andras had created before his death.

    There''s a real malice rushing toward this passage.

    If this portal isn''t closed quickly, a truly terrifying demon maye through.

    Something far stronger and more evil than all ten of thembined.

    Vikir was conflicted.

    Just then.

    -Annihtion! Total annihtion!

    -I can''t hold out any longer!

    -Retreat! Retreat!

    -There is nowhere to retreat to!

    -God, save my child in danger...

    .

    .

    From beyond the gate, he heard pitiful screams.

    It was the death cry of therades left behind in the Age of Destruction, thest remaining handful of humanity.

    And there were a few familiar voices among them.

    -All Morg is powered! Imprisoned here!

    -Keep the faith until the end, people!

    -Haha... Now neither money nor gold is of any use to me.

    Vikir made a decision of either yes or no.

    "I can''t end it this way, not after hearing the voices of myrades who are still alive."

    Moving on. To the original world. Back to the original world.

    He will have to walk the thorny path he has walked once again.

    No, it was clear that it would be a much longer and harsher pilgrimage than that time.

    But still, the hound goes. Even though he was covered in blood and limping.

    At Vikir''s words, Piggy closed his eyes as if he knew it wasing.

    "I knew it. I knew you''d do the same."

    Vikir didn''t say anything in response, just nodded once.

    And then.

    Vikir ascended the stairs.

    The shattered throne, the precarious staircase on the verge of copse.

    Finally, thest remaining portal to this worldes into view.

    What he sees beyond is a world with a severed head.

    A timeline of shame filled with blood and stains.

    Vikir turned his head and locked eyes with Piggy.

    Piggy nods with a wry smile.

    Night Hound. Vikir Van Baskerville returns to his original world.

    It was time to move on.

    Just then.

    "You''re not going anywhere!"

    There was a voice that grabbed Vikir by the back as he was about to cross the threshold.

 Chapter 491: Running Hounds (4)

    <h4>Chapter 491: Running Hounds (4)</h4>

    The dark clouds on the horizon recede.

    The sun rose, the rain weakened, and a double rainbow appeared.

    The monsters had lost their strength and were running away to the bottom of the sea.

    ...kwakwang! pungdeong! uleuleung-

    The Kraken, the strongest enemy of the Tochka Alliance, lost all its tentacles and crumbled beneath the water.

    In the distance, the Imperial Pce can be seen copsing.

    "Aaah! The ck fog has lifted!"

    "Vikir did it!"

    "... Also!"

    Tudor, Sancho, and Bianca shouted in joy.

    But.

    "Hmmm. I have a bad feeling about this."

    Standing over the corpse of arge monster, Camus had been feeling ufortable since earlier.

    The flow of mana was strange. There''s a huge surge of mana, then it breaks off, and then it flows out again in a faint trickle.

    This was apletely new type of energy that did not belong to Andras.

    Furthermore, Vikir''s aura was also fading, as if it were about to break.

    It wasn''t a matter of life force, but rather a feeling of being very far away.

    "Camus, what''s wrong, do you sense something bad?"

    Morg Adolf loomed over the corpse of the monster across from Camus.

    Camus answers her uncle''s question with a simple nod.

    " ...It''s like a woman''s instinct."

    By this time, Aiyen, Dolores, Sinir, and Kirko, all of whom are as capable as Camus, are also sensing something fishy.

    kwakwang!

    Camus sprinted across the surface of the water.

    Four shadows followed behind her.

    Aiyen, Dolores, Sinir, and Kirko.

    Their appearance made Camus turn around, irritated.

    "What the hell! Why are you following me!"

    "I''ve been keeping an eye on the pce since earlier. I had a bad feeling."

    "Vikir might be injured, and we need to get him some medical attention as soon as possible."

    "I''m worried about my brother. He deserves a cat''s hand!"

    "I was following him the whole time. Is there a problem?"

    Just then.

    Chaaaahhhhhhhh.

    The sea surface parted, revealing a vast expanse ofnd beneath it.

    Madam. It was holding out its back to the five women, including Camus as if inviting them to get on.

    "Okay!"

    Camus, Aiyen, Dolores, Sinir, and Kirko climbed onto the Madam Baby''s back and rode toward the pce.

    And soon.

    They witnessed a shocking scene.

    Piggy had risen from the dead, and Vikir stood before the portal, covered in blood.

    The first to let out a new scream was Camus.

    "Where are you going! Hey...!"

    In her panic and anger, a swear word escaped the tip of her tongue before she tucked it back in.

    Camus pressed her hands firmly to her chest to control her anger.

    "Huh... No, I can''t, I''ve barely corrected my way of speaking, and I can''t swear again, damn it!"

    But she couldn''t hold it in any longer.

    She stretched out a trembling finger and pointed at Vikir.

    "Where are you going!"

    "...."

    Vikir''s eyes widened at Camus'' sharp question, but he didn''t say anything.

    A few more moments passed before he finally opened his mouth to answer.

    "Where I came from. I''m going where I''m supposed to be."

    "Fuck! Where you''re supposed to be is next to me, don''t you realize that?"

    The area around Camus'' eyes was turning as red as the color of her pupils.

    "...Do you always think about yourself?"

    "...."

    "Do you ever think about me when you''re thinking about yourself?"

    Camus spoke in a quiet voice.

    "Who am I to break up all the gossip thates into the house?"

    "...."

    "Because of you, I never had the love life that everyone else had, the school life that everyone else had, and I spent all my youth searching the jungles of the Red and ck Mountains, and then you turned my path to ck magic and made it awkward with my uncle...."

    "...."

    "Didn''t you know that I became a delegate to the Dark Hall just to meet you, and then I transferred to a school to meet you, and then you fell into the Hell Tree, and when you came out, you were tried and sent to prison, and when you escaped, you staged a sit-in in Tochka, and now you''re in the Imperial Pce...."

    "...."

    "You bastard, who''s the hound of House Baskerville!"

    Camus was about to use her signature magic.

    Vikir realized he couldn''t handle Camus'' anger in his current state, so he quietly raised his hands and stepped out of the portal.

    Only then did the Camus'' momentum slow down a bit.

    Vikir suddenly took a closer look at Camus'' face.

    Time had certainly passed.

    She was still the same little eight-year-old, but she had grown into a determined young woman.

    He thought it was just a crush that would end after a while, but it wasn''t.

    Just then, another girl walked by Camus'' side.

    It was Aiyen.

    "I''m sure you haven''t forgotten your time in the jungle, or what happened in Nouvelle Vague."

    "...."

    "The first time I saw you was in a ve trader''s cage. When you rescued me, I knew in my gut. I knew I would spend the rest of my life with you, and that nothing could separate us, not even the harshest of fates."

    "...."

    "I never forgot you, not even during the Red Death epidemic or when I was trapped in the Hell Tree. I even traveled into Nouvelle Vague myself to rescue you."

    Aiyen''s face flushed a rare shade of red.

    "And I''m already married. You''ve seen everything I''ve seen and everything I can''t, even urinating....."

    At that moment, the word urinating came out of Aiyen''s mouth, and the person next to her blushed bright red.

    Dolores was wriggling her fingers.

    "...I, I am"

    She hesitated for a moment, then gathered her courage.

    "I''ve been working so hard to be of help to you, Vikir! I''ve studied soul resonance so I wouldn''t be a nuisance as your soul mate, I''ve followed you on demon hunts, and I''ve even formed an organization called the Night Walkers to fulfill the mission you left for me...."

    Dolores looked up at Vikir with tears in her eyes.

    "I''ve done a lot for you, and it''s not fair that you''re leaving without giving me apliment...."

    And beside her stood another woman who had been with the Night Walkers all along.

    Sinir.

    She looked up at Vikir, her eyes wide and clear.

    "Do you remember what you said to me before?"

    "...."

    "You said it was entirely up to the individual to decide what to see, what to believe, and what choices to make."

    "...."

    "You''re right, brother, and that''s why I''m going to make a decision that''s solely my responsibility."

    "...."

    "I want you to go out with me, brother, seriously, like marriage! We promised each other when we were having midnight snacks in the dorm, and one day, when you get everything you want, you''ll take me as your bride!"

    Camus, Aiyen, and Dolores'' eyes narrowed at Sinir''s bombshell.

    A fifth voice broke through the bickering among them.

    It was Kirko.

    "Garm. No, Vikir."

    "...."

    "I''m still stunned. Why you saved me, and what was going on in Garm''s mind. Everything is just confusing."

    "...."

    "So I want to follow you for a while longer, to find the meaning of my life, what I have to live for."

    "...."

    "I''m a body that has already died once. If it weren''t for you, I would have no ties or regrets in this world."

    "...."

    "This may sound a bit brash, but... you''re the one who saved me from disappearing with my hometown, so I think you owe me that much,

    so take me with you. To where you originally belong."

    Camus, Aiyen, Dolores, Sinir, and Kirko.

    They were giving Vikir as determined a stare as he was.

    Vikir spoke, his voice cracked and hoarse.

    "Where I came from is a devastated ce."

    All five women nodded.

    "I know. I can guess that from your personality."

    "What kind of environment did you grow up in to have such a bad personality?"

    "Seriously, Vikir, you need to reflect."

    "Brother, do you have a personality problem?"

    "It''s worse than Nouvelle Vague, so... I''m a little curious."

    Vikir said again.

    "I am a terrible human being. I carry a heavy burden... and I''m old."

    All five women nodded once more.

    "I know you''re a terrible person, and you should be grateful that you know that because that''s why we love you."

    "You did seem older. The way you talked and acted."

    "Our Pope said you seemed old in spirit from the beginning, which is why she called you an old man at first...."

    "The carrying part reminded me, brother, do you remember when we were in the Hell Tree, you kicked me for taking on the fist of a Demonic Dragon? I''m secretly behind you~ I''m going to make you regret kicking me."

    "How much age difference is appropriate between a man and a woman? I don''t know because I''ve never been in a rtionship, but is it weird if there''s... Is it strange if we are 50 years apart?"

    They walked up the stairs, spouting off onement after another.

    And then.

    Camus, Aiyen, Dolores, Sinir, and Kirko stood behind Vikir.

    Just as they had always done.

    Of course, their faces didn''t change at the sight of thendscape beyond the portal.

    "I can''t send you to such a horrible ce alone, remember? You said you''d stay with me through death''s door."

    "I''ll go with you. I want to help my tribe, whoever might still be alive on the other side."

    "I saw your inner Vikir in the Hell Tree of Cimeries. You said we were colleagues. Let''s share the burden, Mr. Choco."

    "Wherever my brother goes, I will definitely follow. Don''t you dare leave me behind."

    "It''s an interesting ce. Did the Nouvelle Vague over there copse too? I''d still like to go there."

    Eventually. Vikir couldn''t help but sigh.

    "Do as you please."

    Vikir turns toward the portal.

    Camus, Aiyen, Dolores, Sinir, and Kirko follow him.

    And as Piggy watched them all, a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

    "...They are good people."

    And with that, the portal closed.

    Beyond the zing mes, Vikir threw himself into the twisting space.

    The Hound of Baskerville, the Night Hound.

    He returns to where he came from, having fulfilled all his duties.

    Tsutsutsutsutsutsutsutsuts...

    His vision began to spin.

    Every sense in his body is twisted.

    The clockwork was ticking backward.

    And blooming between the first and second hands, Thest words of a friend who left a long time ago and who is now letting go of him are disturbed.

    ''Have a great trip, friend.''

    That was hisst time in this world.

 Chapter 492: The Day After the Apocalypse (1)

    <h4>Chapter 492: The Day After the Apocalypse (1)</h4>

    ...pas!

    A star twinkled in the sky, and then it was gone.

    It flickered so briefly that most people didn''t see it.

    However, whether by coincidence, a good sense of vision, or simply because she was staring sadly into the night sky, tired of her miserable existence, only one defeated soldier saw it.

    Major J, 1st Battalion, 207th Regiment, Allied Forces of Humanity.

    She pursed her lips, which were stained with burns and sword marks.

    "The guiding star is strange tonight."

    Sergeant Miryamu, who was grilling bugs and lizards next to her, asked.

    "Battalion Leader. Did you say something just now?"

    "Ah, no. The guide star is a bit...."

    "What? What''s with the guiding star? It''s the same as usual."

    Then some of the soldiers looked up at the night sky.

    They could see the seven guiding stars shining brightly.

    But only Major J shook her head.

    "That''s strange. There were definitely eight just a moment ago."

    "Hahaha �C there are seven guiding stars, even a seven-year-old child knows that ...Well, now finding a seven-year-old child is like picking stars in the sky."

    At Sergeant Miryamu''s words, Major J smiled bitterly and tore her eyes away from the night sky.

    The Age of Destruction.

    As the rivers of blood dried up, the decades-long war between the human and demon realms seemed to be over.

    But on that day, as the surviving humans celebrated their victory and carved their glory into stone.

    The true apocalypse had begun.

    One after another, horrors that would make the disasters of the past seem like child''s y were revealed.

    There were 62 demons, each with a power and evil that far surpasses Ten Corpses.

    They turned the human world, which had been devastated by the long rainy season of fire and the great flood that swept through the world for 150 days, into hell once again.

    ''...I was happier when I was a soldier.''

    Major J is reminiscing about the past.

    "Battalion Leader, it''s an air raid, monsters areing!"

    Captain Sdin could be heard shouting as he ran up the hill.

    The orders shouted by superiors from afar also echo loudly.

    Lieutenant General Kirk, Brigadier General White, Colonel Kuberin, and others..., veterans of countless crossfire, were gathering thest remaining survivors of the Human Alliance and preparing for the final battle.

    "Battalion Leader,e on!"

    "If this line of defense is breached, it''s over! Behind us, thest remnants of humanity are... children...."

    Captain Sdin and Sergeant Miryamu paced back and forth.

    "Onya, I know. Take your positions!"

    Major J donned her helmet and raised her sword and shield.

    Behind her, Sergeant Miryamu stood with his spear.

    She opened her mouth, her voice trembling.

    "This is really going to be myst battle."

    "...Probably for everyone here."

    The two soldiers chatted as they watched the swarm of demons staining the horizon ck.

    It was like a brother and sister talking before bed.

    Suddenly, Sergeant Miryamu asked.

    "Battalion Leader, how is it that you are always so carefree?"

    "Hmm?"

    "You''re always calm, never panicking, as if you''re under some kind of protection."

    Now that most of the priests have disappeared, divine protection has be an epic in a vain dream.

    But Major J just smiled.

    "God bless you. If it''s a blessing, it''s there. We all need a little faith to keep us going in this harsh world."

    "Eh! You have a corner you trust? What is it?"

    Major J smirked at thest man standing, Sergeant Miryamu, with whom she had grown close.

    Then, eyeing the swarm of monsters now closing in on them, she spoke.

    "A letter."

    "...yes?"

    "A letter. From my old boss."

    Major J.

    The contents of a letter she held close to her heart as a talisman had gotten her through this far.

    It was a memory of a young junior officer she had met many years ago, when she had just joined the army, struggling to make ends meet.

    "I think hisst name was Baskerville, right?"

    "What? Baskerville? You mean those crazy dogs over there on the front lines?"

    "Yeah. He was a nice man, unlike the other Baskervilles, a good and reliable hunter, though he was falsely used and executed in the middle of the war...."

    Major J''s face fell at the memory of the old days.

    Sergeant Miryamu opened his mouth to speak, facing the swarm of monsters in front of him.

    "You must have been quite the romantic, leaving all those letters."

    "No, he wasn''t much of a letter-writer... which, when I think about it, is very strange."

    "Like what?"

    "The letters. They arrived after he died."

    "Well, what, the postman waszy or something?"

    "Hmm. It''s been too many years for that. The letter didn''t arrive until long after he was executed...."

    But the conversation between the two soldiers went no further.

    ...Boom!

    A giant-sized demon appeared at the front line.

    The momentum it exuded was different from the other demons around it.

    It had two arms, two legs, four wings, and a long tail.

    It had curved horns, eyes that zed like the sun, and dense muscles packed tightly throughout its body.

    Major J had to swallow hard.

    "...Demonic Dragon."

    Cursed half-breeds, born of a dragon and a demon.

    Eternal Diaspora.

    It is a nasty and evil creature that takes out its anger on all other living things for not being treated properly by both dragons and demons.

    [Kua-aaaaahhh!]

    It roared like a demon and rushed toward the human camp.

    Even thest of the humans was nervous before its overwhelmingbat power, capable of tearing thousands of humans apart with a single blow.

    "Damn it. What''s he doing here, usually lurking in the depths of the Hell Tree, only toe out when it''s time for the final battle?"

    Major J gritted her teeth.

    They can''t back down from this. Humanity has already been pushed to the brink.

    One more step backward and it would be over.

    "Stop it! If the line is breached, the refugees behind it will be exterminated!"

    Major J unleashed her aura to confront the Demonic Dragon.

    Against such an absurdly strong opponent, she had only one chance.

    A fatal blow!

    Swinging with all her might, Major J''s sword aimed for the gap left by the Demonic Dragon''s fist.

    But.

    ...Taang!

    The once-in-a-lifetime opportunity was wasted.

    Major J''s sword broke in half as soon as it touched the scales on the Demonic Dragon''s body.

    "...."

    A shadow of despair crossed Major J''s face.

    Where she looked up, she saw the face of the Demonic Dragon, grinning from ear to ear.

    And then. The Demonic Dragon''s huge fist dropped like a meteorite.

    If it hits, it''ll kill her instantly, or at the very least, wipe out a dozen meters behind her.

    And a lot of people will die again.

    ''...Is this the end?''

    Major J is just about to resign herself to life.

    "Battalion Leader!"

    A hand grabbed her by the waist.

    Sergeant Miryamu. He risked his life and leaped in, pushing Major J to the ground.

    kwakwakwang!

    Major J flew to the side.

    She immediately jumped to her feet and screamed.

    "Mi, Miryamu!"

    But there was no answer from the dense dust.

    No wonder.

    "Aaaaah...."

    Tears streamed from Major J''s eyes.

    Even she was surprised at how much moisture was still in her eyeballs, which she had thought had dried up and turned into a hard solid.

    Miryamu. The one who had followed him so closely since he was a second lieutenant.

    They''d fought together until he''d be a sergeant.

    He''d only made it to sergeant over the years, even though it was easy for him to be promoted because his seniors were dying so quickly and in suchrge numbers.

    He was always running away because he was too scared.

    "...Such a coward saves me."

    Major J gritted her teeth.

    She must avenge her subordinate.

    She bit down hard on her burst lip once more.

    She summoned as much of her depleted mana as she could.

    She gripped her broken sword tightly once more.

    "Even if I have to die, I will take one of you with me."

    Major J stared straight ahead with thest of her strength.

    Suddenly, the dense dust settled, revealing a giant shadow.

    The Demonic Dragon stared back.

    For some reason, it stood still, defenseless.

    ''This is my chance!''

    Major J knew instinctively that this was thest chance she had been miraculously granted.

    And before she realized it, her body reacted.

    "Aaaaaaah!"

    She charged with all her might, her sword energized with mana.

    Aim for the heart. A single stab!

    Even as Major J leaped with all her might, the shadow of the Demonic Dragon, which had begun to reveal itself as the dust cleared, stood still.

    As if he were giving the insignificant worm a favor.

    "Your arrogance is your signature!"

    Then, with all her might, Major J drove the broken sword into the Demonic Dragon''s heart.

    And in that moment, she once again realized she had failed.

    ...ttug! pagsag-

    The broken sword broke once again.

    There were too many cracks in the first ce, so it didn''t receive the full force.

    The wound was quiterge, but it didn''t hit the heart at all.

    "...ah."

    Major J knew it was really, really over.

    She had no mana, no strength.

    There would be no excuse, no resistance if her head was crushed in that Demonic Dragon''s grasp right now.

    ''I''m sorry.''

    I could not avenge Sergeant Miryamu''s death.

    Also revenge for otherrades who died cruelly.

    Major J closed her eyes tightly.

    She waited for her death toe.

    She hoped it would be a painless one.

    ....

    ... but.

    No matter how long she waits, death neveres.

    ''What is it? Is it already over?''

    Is death supposed toe without feeling like this?

    Or did it happen instantly, with no time to feel shock or pain?

    "...?"

    Major J opened her closed eyes slightly, ever so slightly, in wonder.

    And then she saw an incredible sight.

    "...!"

    Beyond the dust that had been cleared away, Major J still stood before the Demonic Dragon.

    His chest was puffed out, showing off a body so hard and majestic that even a sword could not prate it.

    ... The problem was, his the shoulders of the Demonic Dragon were empty.

    pusyug! pusyusyug!

    ck blood gushes out from the severed neck.

    Currently, Demonic Dragon has lost his head and is being held by someone.

    And at the feet of that, someone is Sergeant Miryamu, sitting there with a dazed expression on his face.

    Major J didn''t realize what had happened for a moment.

    One second. Two seconds. Three seconds. Four seconds. Five seconds. Six seconds. Seven seconds. And eight seconds.

    The second hand moved as many times as the number of guiding stars she''d confused.

    Only then did Major J dare to look into the face of the ''someone'' who had in the Demonic Dragon and saved Sergeant Miryamu.

    He was.... He was....

    "You''re all alive, I see."

    A voice that speaks in such a strange tone.

    His attitude was as if he had just gone for a walk or a sightseeing trip somewhere far away.

    Like a soldier returning from a long leave of absence, He nced around the battlefield, his inner circle.

    "Captain Kirk, Lieutenant White, Sergeant Kuberin, Sergeant J, Corporal Sdin, and Private Miryamu... Everyone was alive. The 1st toon of the 4th Company of the 207th Regiment is still alive and well."

    The ''he'' was clearly the face in Major J''s memory. But at the same time, it was not the face he remembered at all.

    It was a contradictory exnation, but there it was.

    The burns and stab wounds that covered his face were gone, and he looked decades younger.

    But.

    "It''s great. Well done."

    The aura he exuded was still overwhelming, even more so than before.

    Meanwhile.

    "This, this guy. He fell from the sky, from a guide star."

    Sergeant Miryamu, who was on the ground, pointed at the ''he'' and the ''you from the star'' with a dazed expression.

    Then ''he'' gave a faint smile.

    "I see. Private Miryamu. You were too young then to remember my face."

    "What, what, Private? Me? I''m the sergeant...."

    Sergeant Miryamu looks confused.

    But Major J''s expression ispletely different.

    With tears in her eyes, she eximed in a joyful tone.

    "Company Commander, you''re alive!"

    "...Do you recognize me?"

    "Of course, I knew you were alive after all! Where have you been all this time, and why have you changed your appearance so much...?"

    "You were alive? Did you not see my throat cut?"

    "What? Oh, I did see it, but... Have you not sent any letters since then?"

    Major J looked puzzled and then drew out the letter she had kept in her bosom.

    It was a letter written on parchment, yellowed with age.

    -I miss you,rade. Are you at peace there?

    Upon seeing it, ''he'' looked nk for a moment, then muttered to himself.

    "...Then that letter was real, I don''t know what''s going on."

    At that moment, several soldiers from the Humanity Alliance side, who had seen the Demonic Dragon dead, rushed over.

    They exchanged nces between Major J''s face and ''his'' face, then let out a cry of wonder.

    "Company Commander, Company Commander, is that you?"

    "Are you alive?"

    "Where have you been, everyone has been waiting for you, Company Commander!"

    "We knew you were alive after all! Everyone on the front lines said you couldn''t be dead...!"

    But. The reunion was short-lived. No, it had to be short.

    kwakwakwang! ujijijijijig!

    For there was a giant leg that emerged, crushing the Demonic Dragon''s corpse like tofu.

    A demonic beast with enormous hooves and a long mane appeared, crushing the body of the Demonic Dragon.

    [Fuhahahahaha- I am Orobas, the Equestrian Prince of the Eternal Hell, ranked 55th in the hierarchy! Who is this who continues this futile resistance!?]

    At the appearance of the giant demon, the expressions of all the humans are colored with despair.

    "Off, it''s over! Number 55 in the hierarchy has appeared!"

    "Why is he here!"

    "Wrong. With the descent of Demon Lord-level demon, everything is over...."

    However. there was no time for the humans to despair.

    ...sh! kwa-kwakwakwakwang!

    Five pirs of light fell from the sky.

    Burning Iron Skewers, Fierce Snipes, Holy Pirs of Light, Golden Fists, and Sharp shes mmed into the ground in a terrifying explosion.

    [Kkeuaaaaagh-]

    The demon that had appeared just a moment ago was instantly shattered into pieces and scattered.

    "Ouch, my back, I''m getting motion sickness, yuck-"

    "It''s been a big start since you made your debut."

    "Well, this is my first debut in the other world."

    "I thought the second hand on my watch was drowning me out."

    "The day after the apocalypse is no big deal."

    Five women walk out of the pit where the demons are crushed to death.

    All the demons and humans who had been fighting bloody on the battlefield a moment ago have stopped fighting.

    They turn in unison, mouths agape.

    And then.

    ku-leuleuleuleuleug!

    The storm of aura swirled ck and swept away dozens of meters around.

    A giant ck dog with nine teeth appears in the middle of the battlefield.

    ....

    Everyone gathered on the battlefield, both demons and humans, stood frozen and swallowed dry saliva.

    And then.

    Before all these eyes, ''he'' said.

    "Demon Kills."

 Chapter 493: The Day After the Apocalypse (2) [END]

    <h4>Chapter 493: The Day After the Apocalypse (2) [END]</h4>

    The year BE 1,020 on the Continental Calendar.

    The rivers of blood have finally dried up.

    The decades-long war between the human and demon worlds has been recorded in the history books as the Age of Destruction.

    And the day the human world''s victory was carved into stone.

    A head was hung at the main gate of Tochka, humanity''sst fortress.

    Baal.

    Aka ''Mother of Destruction''.

    72 The Spiritual Pir of Demons.

    The day its head fell to the ground, the Age of Destruction came to an end.

    And there were several people who made great contributions to driving Baal and other demons from the earth.

    Morg Mu Camus, lord of the House of Morg.

    Osiris Le Baskerville, lord of the House of Baskerville.

    Bourgois Ju Sinir, lord of the House of Bourgois.

    Dolores Lun Quovadis, Pope of the House of Quovadis.

    The Warden of the Nouvelle Vague ''Orca Montreuil-sur-Mer Javert...''.

    .

    .

    There are so many other heroes that humanity has barely survived.

    ... but.

    There were also heroes who fought more brilliantly than anyone else, but never made it into the history books.

    They appeared out of nowhere.

    Apanied by the 8th guiding star, they descended upon the battlefield and drove away the demons like messengers promising salvation.

    Age unknown, identity unknown, name unknown.

    But the man who was the eldest of the six heroes was clearly the Iron-Blooded Swordsman Baskerville.

    Rumor has it that he mastered the 9th Form, a rank that was said to be unattainable in a lifetime, but the truth of the matter has never been revealed.

    Other figures have also failed to make it into canonical history due to unusual questions.

    They surprisingly had the exact same appearance and the same powers as already existing figures, such as Morg Mu Camus, Dolores Lun Quovadis, and Bourgeois Ju Sinir, who were among the heroes who saved humanity.

    Some were from long-extinct tribes of barbarian warriors, and there was even a deserting prison guard of unknown rank who was vaguely suspected to have once been a member of the Nouvelle Vague.

    Eventually, at their hands, Baal fell, and a long peace came to humanity.

    Immediately after the end of the Age of Destruction, they were able to receive recognition for only a small portion of their enormous achievements and receive a small amount of territory.

    Can Only Share Sorrow and Cannot Share Joy.

    They withdrew from the ugly squabbles over the public domain, and, satisfied with a small amount ofpensation (considering their merits, a level so small that it would be considered absurd), they quietly retired to their territory and have not been seen in the world since.

    The world can only assume that they had raised arge family, had numerous children, and were living out their final days in quiet andfort.

    ....

    However.

    As I write this journal as a conscientious officer, a schrly historian, a popr author, and a survivor of an Age of Destruction, I cannot help but ask additional questions.

    Where did theye from and where are they going?

    Who were they, and what were their purposes and intentions?

    These are questions that can never be answered no matter how much I think about them and study them, and it is a lifelong task for me, and for all of humanity whose lives were saved by them.

    In a situation where everything is questionable, the guiding star they came down to today is silent and only shines brightly.

    Seven stars shining ever brighter...

    -''Nymphet'' from ��History of Magic��, Volume 3,021 page-

    * * * *

    -# Credit cookie-

    Whiiiiing-

    A dry wind blows, peeling away ayer of desert flesh.

    A ck robe flutters in the wind, and a long, graying beard.

    An old man walks across the salt ts.

    A side effect of being a time traveler?

    A body that grows one year old only when others have lived ten or twenty years old.

    The children grow up, and the children''s children grow up, and the children''s children''s children grow up, and again, and again... Anyway, quite a long time has passed.

    The old man is about to leave.

    Throwing off all his shackles and restraints, he gives in to the instincts he''s been suppressing for a very, very long time.

    Whiiiiing-

    Another gust of wind whips up, chipping away at the rocks.

    The old man rode silently over the crescent-shaped sand dunes covered in salty salt sand.

    And then.

    What the old man was looking for came into view.

    It was a Tower.

    A ck Tower, jutting up against the white horizon.

    Like an awl jutting out of the ground, it bathed in the ckness of the night sky and the red of blood.

    ''Grave of Swords''

    The old man nodded silently as he read the crude writing on the front of the Tower.

    "...A true Baskerville is born in the ''Cradle of Swords''."

    After a moment of silence, the old man continued.

    "...A true Baskerville dies in the ''Grave of Swords''."

    Just then.

    [This is the Grave of Swords, the final resting ce of those who follow the extreme will of the sword.]

    There was a heavy, echoingugh from within the Tower.

    Then the top of the Tower opened like a dog''s mouth.

    Inside the Tower was a throne of steel and an old man in ck armor seated upon it.

    A Baskerville, with a long white beard.

    A former Seven Counts who had seen the turbulence of war, and the strongest man in all of mankind, even in the Age of Destruction.

    He stroked his pure white beard and smiled broadly.

    [This is definitely a familiar face, even though it''s the first time I''ve seen it. The intuition of a superhuman who has reached the realm of the supreme transcends even space and time.]

    The gray-bearded old man did not reply to the white-bearded old man''s words.

    He simply pulled out a crimson sword with the back of his hand.

    Seeing the momentum that the gray-bearded old man exuded, the white-bearded old man smiled with satisfaction.

    Then.

    The two old men with white and gray beards swung their swords at each other.

    It was a split second.

    Nine teeth met nine teeth.

    The gray-bearded old man stopped moving as if struck by lightning.

    In the meantime, his body trembled as if something that had been blocked for so many years had been unlocked.

    At the same time, space and time began to distort.

    ...ppajig!

    In the midst of the nine teeth''s ferocious shing, a tiny speck of light shed.

    It''s teeth. It was the tenth teeth.

    It was so small it was barely visible, but it was clearly attached to the nine teeth.

    And then... the storm subsided.

    Only one man remained. An old man with a gray beard.

    He raised his head and looked up at the Tower.

    He stood there for a long time, then slowly took a step.

    Inside the tower.

    And behind the gray-bearded old man, who slowly entered the Tower.

    [Your birth will be like the birth of a sword, and your death will be like the death of a sword].

    The voice of the old man with the white beard, who had now disappeared, was slowly bing distant.

    ��. Thank you.

    * * *

    -# Real Credit cookie-.

    ...kwakwang!

    With a loud bang, hot mes leaped up.

    "Who says it''s over!"

    A woman stomped her foot, her anger rising to the top of her head.

    "Aaah! I don''t know if it''s a side effect of time travel or whatever, but it made me into a body that never ages, and are you already trying to send me to a venomous workshop!? This is really a dog that can''t give up its old habit of running away without saying a word! like he''s from Baskerville!"

    Her red hair erupts like a volcano.

    All around her, mes and spikes of ckened metal soared murderously.

    And beside her, pacing was a copper-skinned woman.

    Her muscles were toned, her bow strapped to her back, her choker tied around her neck.

    "I want to have many children, to rebuild my tribe, and since the human poption is so small, and fertility is encouraged as a virtue, ... I need to fill at least three digits."

    A native woman preaching the virtues of fertility.

    And next to her, a woman in a white nun''s uniform can be seen knitting in a calm manner.

    "Oh no. Calm down, everyone. Overexcitement is bad for your body. Well, it''s almost demi-god territory at this point anyway, so there''s no chance of getting hurt.... Ah? Is it possible that just because your body is strong and supreme... you asked for too much, and that''s why he got scared and ran away!"

    A saintess who has a calm demeanor but is the first to panic.

    The next to speak was a woman with short-cropped white hair.

    "Brother, stop beingzy, that''s why it sshed again. If I were him, I''d run away because of the noise. Wherever he goes, you always follow him around. One must have faith."

    The white-haired woman criticizes the other women.

    Thest to join the conversation was a woman with dark hair and red eyes, who seemed to have a cold demeanor.

    "Leave it to me. Catching escaped prisoners is my specialty, and I''ve found where he''s gone this time."

    All the women''s eyes lit up.

    "Where? Where did he go this time?"

    "The desert again, I''m sure."

    "If he went looking for the Tower, I''m disappointed, it''s the same old pattern."

    "Well, this time it seemed to have a different momentum."

    "Don''t worry. I''ve already found the Tower, and I''ve been there twice, so I can find it with my eyes closed."

    The five women bonded instantly.

    Despite their usual bickering, they had always been able to work together to solve problems quickly in situations like this.

    "Just wait and see! If he gets caught this time, he''ll get fifty years in prison, he''s dead, really dead!"

    "Wow, the bitch who will cry and snot out her tears and beg him toe back whenever we meet is always good at talking."

    "I miss him already, I don''t want to be away from him even for an hour...."

    "Don''t worry about it. By the way, if he gets caught this time, I''ll have to cut brother''s allowance in half."

    "I wonder if he''s running away from home because you keep cutting his pocket money like that."

    "Well, instead of cutting his allowance in half, why don''t you double the number of defense battles?"

    "I think that would scare him more."

    "I''m fine with just watching from the sidelines."

    "Ugh- you''ve been a sissy for decades, really?"

    "Yeah, but this time it looked like he was really trying to run away."

    "Hey! it''s the Gave of Swords, it''s obvious, I''ve got it all mapped out."

    "Oh, there? The ce guarded by that basilisk? He hasn''te out since I beat the crap out of him on myst preliminary exploration."

    "If it had a map, it would have scared it away and moved its nest. It''s a pretty intelligent creature."

    "Anyway, isn''t it about time we found it?"

    "Oh, look! I see it!"

    The five chatty women cross the desert to the Tower.

    [A life of running and fleeing from chase until the end of time, with words that reflect loneliness and solitude].

    [But those who pursue you will find you, and in the end, they will reach where you are].

    [You cannot escape from them. For all time. Forever.]

    [I see the furious faces of those who pursue you. Your miserable future, bound and shackled to them forever.]

    It was the moment when the ominous oracle that someone had predicted a long time ago came true.

    [In the end, there shall be five bodies!]

    Real ��. Thank you.

    �C

    �C

    �C

    tl/n: �� (finish)

    Side Story Chapter 1

    The river of blood is slowly drying up.

    It happened in the hignds of the Western Front, where the battle against the remnants of the Demon Army had not yet ended.

    * * *

    The Morg''s Citadel is made up of countless towers.

    It appears to be made up of countless skewers stuck into the ground.

    Among them, the basement of the tower is hidden in the most remote ce.

    Each of Morg''s two major factions, the Light Hall and the Dark Hall have their own secret underground spaces.

    One of them is the ''Dark Side'', the deepest part of the Dark Hall.

    The underground space stretches more than 600 floors below the ground.

    And on the lowest level, the 666th floor is the headquarters of the Dark Hall.

    It was a space known only to the Dark Hall''s delegates, inessible to Imperial monitoring, demonic gaze, and even the head of House Morg.

    At the bottom of a spiraling staircase with no end in sight.

    There, a lone woman sits on a throne, her eyes closed.

    Tsutsutsutsutsutsuts...

    She is a mage who checks the mana flowing through her veins.

    With her red hair and white skin, she is clearly a master mage who has reached the peak of her powers.

    Morg Mu Camus.

    She trusts no one and relies on no one.

    She has stood alone her entire life, battling the world tooth and nail, sometimes winning, sometimes losing, and living each moment as if she had never been hurt before.

    "Huu...."

    Finally, Camus opened her eyes from her meditation.

    By nature, when a mage checks their mana, they are very vulnerable.

    As the saying goes, ''A mage who checks their mana is like a crab or a shrimp who has just shed their shells''.

    That''s why Camus always meditated only on the 666th floor of the Dark Side, where no one else was allowed to enter.

    Absolute self-righteousness.

    She trusted no one, so she didn''t do any favors.

    Only she could guard and protect her own body.

    ....

    "Did you finish your meditation? It took longer than usual?"

    When Camus opened her eyes, she saw an unbelievable sight.

    A mask with a stork''s beak.

    A woman in a grim, ominous mask had emerged from behind a stone pir.

    It was a wonder that any outsiders existed on the 666th floor, where only delegates of the Dark Hall were allowed to enter.

    "... More than usual?"

    More than anything else, this statement made Camus frown.

    This meant that the mysterious intruder in front of her had been watching her meditate a lot and for a long time.

    In reality, Camus had been meditating longer than usual, so the words were not just a taunt.

    kuleuleuleuleuleug!

    Mana boils around her.

    Camus summoned mes and iron skewers and hurled them at the intruder in front of her.

    "I don''t know who you are, but die, and I''ll ask questionster."

    As a master of the art of death, Camus was morefortable and ustomed to dealing with the dead than the living.

    Especially when it came to interrogating prisoners or spies.

    But.

    kwakwakwakwang!

    Her eyes widened at the unbelievable sight.

    mes and iron skewers, flew in from the other side, offsetting Camus''s attack.

    And then something else happened that stunned her.

    Sssssssssssss...

    Tree branches as long and thin as a woman''s hair hang down in front of Camus.

    Wraith Tree.

    A tree of mana that takes root in the minds of mages and nourishes the karma of souls.

    An iprehensible being that feeds on abstraction and metaphysics and delivers its harvests to the material world.

    It was also the signature of the eighth demon lord, Seere.

    "No way! Seere, I definitely destroyed that guy along with Snake!"

    Camus was aghast.

    It was a natural reaction.

    The demon lord she''d in so long ago had returned to life.

    But.

    "Calm down, I''m not here to fight."

    The masked woman neatly parried Camus'' attack and took a step back.

    "What are you, a demon lord? How do you possess the power of the 8th Corpse?"

    "Like this."

    In response to Camus'' question, the woman shrugged one shoulder.

    Then something crawled out of her shoulder.

    "Se, Seere... that?"

    Camus stopped in her tracks, about to shout in surprise.

    What was in front of her now is something that is a bitcking to say that it is ''Seere, the demon of necromancy'' who once brought this world to the brink of destruction.

    "...Why is it so small?"

    Camus opened her mouth halfway in disbelief as she looked at the tiny, insignificant Seere.

    The mysterious woman tilted the mask on her face in a pointed manner.

    "Because I''ve absorbed most of it."

    "...demonic power, is that possible?"

    "It is possible."

    Then Camus made a face of disbelief.

    "What kind of a crazy bitch are you, eating demonic power because you had nothing else to eat? You''re no ordinary crazy bitch, and you''ll do the world no good by keeping you alive."

    "Don''t lie down and spit on me."

    "...?"

    Camus shakes her head in confusion.

    Then, the woman removed the mask that covered her face.

    Red hair, red eyes, and a vaguely familiar face.

    "...!"

    Camus'' eyes widened.

    It was Camus standing in front of Camus.

    "W-what is it?"

    "What is it? It''s you."

    The unmasked Camus smirked and walked forward.

    "I thought you were a lot older, but you''re not that old? It''s me too. You''re still pretty no matter how old you get."

    "...?"

    Camus walked forward and stood in front of the confused Camus.

    Camus then revealed her identity.

    "I''m you from the parallel world."

    "What the fuck...."

    "Does that sound like shit?"

    "...."

    Camus, in her 20s, raised her head.

    Camus in front of her looks no different from Camus in her 20s, despite the fact that she is now well into middle age.

    "Let''s just call it ''you on this side'' and ''me on that side,'' because I''m from a different world anyway."

    "What kind of nonsense are you talking about?"

    Camus on this side said through gritted teeth.

    "Demon Kills. We kill people who use demonic powers. We just have to kill them all."

    "...Oh. It''s a lot hotter over here than it is in the West."

    Soon, fire and skewers fly from Camus on this side.

    Camus on that side blocked it, using Seere, who was tied to the roots of the Wraith Tree, as a shield.

    [Kyaaaaaaah! Camus-nim! It hurts so muuuuuch! I''m not Decarabiaaaaaa!]

    Looking at the screaming and wailing Seere, Camus on this side half opened her mouth in disbelief.

    Then.

    "Can you trust me?"

    Camus from that side throws a token of reconciliation to Camus from this side.

    ...tug!

    It was Baal''s head.

    Camus on this side opened her eyes wide.

    "This is Baal, the First Demon Lord, did you kill this guy?"

    "Technically, only the shell, it looks like the main body is hiding somewhere else."

    Camus from that side continued, unconcerned.

    "I''ve never been able to locate Baal''s true body, and I''ve in many demons, but no one seems to know. Perhaps Baal itself has no great desire to conquer the human realm, the problem was that there were too many low-ranking demons who wanted to continue its legacy."

    "How do you know such things, bitch?"

    "I told you, you''re me and I''m you, which is how I got in here."

    When Camus from that side finished speaking, she looked around.

    The seals on the door that responded only to Camus'' body, the familiar array of pirs, and the magic circles on the floor.

    Everything was as she knew it.

    Finally, Camus from that side blinked, her eyes moist.

    "This is where Master died. I still get teary-eyed when I think of Uncle Snake...."

    "What? Snake? Master? Why is that filthy beast a master?"

    "What? Beast? Are you calling Uncle Snake a beast?"

    "...?"

    "...?"

    At this, the two Camus exchanged sharp looks.

    "I have only one uncle, Uncle Adolf. He, too, died in an all-out assault by demons. Snake, that despicable, filthy man is nothing but a dog who sold his soul to a demon."

    "If you insult my master, I will never forgive you."

    "Shut up. Snake is a shameless traitor who caused the deaths of Uncle Adolf and Mother"

    "Not to me."

    "It''s different from what you just said. I am you and you are me."

    "Maybe not."

    The mood of reconciliation, which had been created only briefly by the shell of Baal, quickly became as precarious as a sheet of thin ice.

    Right then.

    "I sent you to hold her hand, but what if you start ying the game?"

    A muffled voice came from behind the stone pir.

    Then, a shadowy figure stepped between the two Camus.

    Vikir. A hound who had crossed many lives.

    An old man covered in wounds was standing there.

    A moment.

    "...!"

    Camus from this side froze.

    The man''s eyes were deep and intense, enough to make even the most arrogant and stubborn person in the world freeze in her tracks.

    Moreover, just by looking at them, for some reason, her body felt weak and her heart trembled, as emotions she had never experienced before in her life suddenly sprouted from the depths of her heart...

    "Hey, what are you looking at!"

    But Camus on this side was forced to snap out of her reverie by the shout of Camus on that side.

    Camus on that side rushed over and grabbed Vikir''s arm.

    She turned to Camus on this side and gave her a stern warning.

    "Don''t set your eyes on someone else''s husband."

    "I am you, and you are me?"

    "Oh, I guess not!"

    Camus on this side snorted in disbelief.

    Then, turning to the other version of herself and her husband (?) in front of her, she asked.

    "So. Why are we here?"

    Camus on that side replied.

    "Let''s hold hands."

    "Hands? What, are you suggesting we do nail art?"

    "I''m you and you''re me, so you know my personality. If you make one more sarcastic remark, I''ll kill you."

    "I''m you and you''re me, so you know my personality. Go ahead, kill me."

    "Ha, is this bitch is really...."

    Then Vikir shook his head, as if he''d seen thising, and stepped between them again.

    "Let''s join forces."

    "Join forces on what? ying demons?"

    "There''s more. There''s something else, something more fundamental."

    "...What''s more important than ying demons?"

    "To restore humanity."

    "!"

    Vikir spoke up, answering Camus'' question.

    "Since the Age of Destruction, 99.99% of humanity has perished. On this side of the world, Tudor, Bianca, Sancho, Piggy, and countless others met a different fate. The same goes for those who were used as hosts for demons."

    "What can you do about it? The dead are dead. They can''te back now...."

    Camus on this side shook her head, her voice bitter.

    Perhaps she was thinking of Respane or Adolf, who had died in the war against the demons.

    But.

    "There is a way to resurrect them all."

    At Vikir''s words, Camus on this side raised her head.

    And in front of him stood Camus from that side.

    Thump-thump.

    Camus stamps her foot on the floor with a smile on her face.

    And on the floor, arge, yet iplete magic circle can be seen drawn.

    Suddenly, Camus on this side''s eyes widen.

    She looks more agitated than she has ever looked before.

    And then.

    The voices of the two Camuse together as one.

    "Liquor ofplete revival!"

    Side Story Chapter 2

    "...The Magic Circle of Full Revival"

    Camus on this side was skeptical.

    "Isn''t it something that can only be attempted by reaching the state of being able to draw at least ten mana rings, which is practically impossible?"

    "It''s close to impossible, but it''s not impossible. Just because it''s close to fire doesn''t mean it''s fire, right?"

    "Don''t y games with me. I know, because I''ve tried countless times to perfect this form, but it''s a wall I could never get over on my own."

    "Yeah. I''m with you on that one."

    "...?"

    Camus on this side looked puzzled, and Camus on that side spoke up.

    "''Alone''?"

    Morg Mu Camus.

    How many people had betrayed her so far?

    How many people had failed to fulfill her expectations?

    Her unparalleled skill, her arrogant temper, and her distrust of others honed through countless heartbreaks.

    All of this has led her to distrust others.

    ... But what about herself?

    Camus on that side spoke in a confident voice.

    "I am a magical genius. The strongest Morg."

    "...."

    "You are a magical genius. The strongest Morg."

    "...."

    "What if we joined hands and made up for each other''s shorings? Can''t you see what would happen?"

    "...."

    Camus on this side remained silent.

    She had always kept to herself, even when meditating to check her mana because she didn''t trust others.

    Finally, after a long silence, Camus on this side spoke up.

    "...Can you really bring them back? All of them."

    "I can''t say for sure, of course. But if there''s even the slightest chance, don''t you think we should try?"

    Camus on this side nods in agreement with Camus on that side.

    Eventually.

    kkwaag-

    The two rare magical geniuses joined hands.

    The objective: the ''The Magic Circle of Full Revival'', a forbidden method that no one had ever seeded in creating.

    "Should we do it right now?"

    "Are you sure?"

    "Of course not."

    Camus on that side slid down to the floor and stood.

    Then she turned to face Camus on this side.

    Camus on that side took a small, deep breath.

    Then she spoke in a low voice.

    "Did you know that the Morg started out as a morgue, a mortuary?"

    "...!"

    "And it was a small family that specialized in that kind of business, keeping only unidentified corpses."

    Camus on that side was rummaging through a long, long memory.

    ''Morgue'' was the name of a very old bloodline, dating back to before humans had any concept of family or nation, and the main job of those who carried on the lineage was to collect unidentified corpses and find their rtives.

    They were paid to collect bodies that had been mutted beyond recognition, find their rtives, and hand them over to them.

    As a result, they were often in the presence of the dead, and as time passed, those who couldmunicate with the dead gradually emerged.

    Whether they were once a power on par with a nation, whether they had been cut off for decades after the downfall, or whether they were once again called a house of Mage, those with this strange ability continued to emerge.

    A nostalgic voice that is no longer there.

    A lifelong benefactor to Camus on that side.

    The voice of a teacher who had left behind a heavy debt that could never be repaid.

    "So, technically, Morg''s origins are very close to death. For from the beginning, Morg was one who spoke to the dead and called upon them."

    " ...You mean that from birth our ancestors were in touch with the ck Magic?"

    "Exactly."

    "Hmm."

    Camus on this side listened to Camus on that side in silence.

    Finally, she spoke up.

    "That''s the first I''ve heard of such a thing in all my time in Morg''s territory. I''ve heard the elders of the Dark Hall say something simr before, but it was in the midst of the war against the demons... and I didn''t have time to listen."

    "I only heard it from my master, too."

    Camus on that side is referring to High Councilor Snake.

    Knowing this, Camus on this side only frowned.

    "But why are you telling me that now?"

    "The ck Mages of Morg know from birth that all the truth a man can seek and understand in a lifetime is a handful of sand picked up from the beach."

    "Then where is most truth?"

    "You''re asking the same question I was back then."

    Camus on that side smirked.

    "After death. Beyond the gate."

    "...!"

    Camus on this side opened her eyes a little wider.

    And Camus on that side met her gaze without wavering.

    Only by crossing the threshold of death is a human beingpletely free and eternal.

    One can explore the infinite truth behind it.

    Then Camus on this side said.

    "So you have turned to the ck Magic path. To familiarize yourself with death."

    "No. It''s the opposite, I first became wary of death."

    "?"

    Camus on this side shakes her head again.

    Camus on that side smiled bitterly, for she too seemed to be seeing her old self.

    "ck Mages are the ones who have the least regard for death."

    "Why is that?"

    "Because we must first understand and familiarize ourselves with life before we can understand and familiarize ourselves with death."

    "...!"

    Camus on this side listens in silence.

    At this age, she had never listened to someone so quietly before.

    ''Well, isn''t that what someone else said?''

    While this Camus was thinking to herself, that Camus continued to speak.

    "Life. Feelings for others. Love. Friendship. Trust. Organic rtionship with all that is in the world. Gratitude for being alive. The preciousness of life. You have to understand these things before you can truly understand death. Everything is two-sided."

    "Can''t I just familiarize myself with death first? I think I can."

    "That''s a good question. My master''s answer to that question was... No, you''ll be angry to hear that. I was a little angry at the time."

    Camus on that side recalled in her mind the answer she had heard from Snake back then.

    ''It''s nothing more than a bunch of drunken fools pretending to be ck mages.''

    If this Camus had heard that, she would have been furious, even more so if it hade from Snake, the man she hated so much.

    "Whatever. Contrary to popr belief, true ck mages must be able to love and understand living things more deeply than anyone else."

    "...One who loves all things living and sympathizes with all things dying. In a way, a ck mage is akin to a sage or saint in the eyes of the world. Are you saying that the opposites arepatible?"

    "It''s me, You understand quickly."

    The two Camus talked for a long time.

    And in the meantime, Vikir was watching the two women''s questions and answers for a long time.

    Finally.

    The two Camus sat down in the center of the circle, facing each other.

    "In order to perfect the Magic of Full Revival, we must travel to the Abyss of Magic to learn the theories and forms weck."

    "That''s where all the truth is kept, the very foundation of this world, so we may be able to find what we need. It will take time."

    Camus on this side has already tried this trick once before and failed.

    "I know how to do it, so I won''t fail this time."

    Camus sat cross-legged with a determined look on her face.

    And then.

    ...paaas!

    The two Camus began to infuse mana into the magic circle.

    deudeudeudeudeudeudeudeudeudeu-

    The magic circle began to ignite.

    Countless intricate shapes emitted light.

    The ingredients are at its center.

    35 liters of water, 20 kilograms of carbon, 4 liters of ammonia, 1.5 kilograms of lime, 800 grams of phosphorus, 250 grams of salt, 100 grams of potassium nitrate, 80 grams of sulfur, 7.5 grams of fluorine, 5 grams of iron, 3 grams of silicon, 15 other trace elements, and memories of blood and flesh... All of this began to emit a strong stench, heat, and smoke.

    ''...Wait, stench?

    Camus on this side stiffened.

    She didn''t know what was wrong, or how it happened, but she knew the result.

    "Fail!

    Camus on this side had a hunch.

    In that instant.

    "It''s not a failure!"

    Camus on that side shouted sharply.

    That brought this side Camus'' mind back into focus, momentarily clouded by confusion and agitation.

    Suddenly, something strange began to stir in the center of the magic circle.

    ...! ...! ...! ...! ...! ...!

    Seeing it, Camus on that side gritted her teeth.

    "It''s good to see you again!"

    All she could think at the time was that ''that thing'' should not be allowed outside the magic circle.

    But the thought was short-lived.

    Rather than preventing ''that thing'' froming out of the magic circle, rather, we must go inside ''that thing''.

    Camus on that side began to control the mana with all her might.

    Sssssssssss...

    The Wraith Tree moves.

    The enormous amount of negative dimensional mana it had stolen from Seere was flowing through the magic circle under Camus'' careful control.

    "You''re saying you can physically suppress this? Are you a monster?"

    "Hoho- What are you patting yourself on the back for, you get a share!"

    Camus on that sideughed, and Camus on this side gritted her teeth.

    ku-gugugugugugugu!

    The two Camus control the magic circle.

    And then.

    ...Quack!

    The magic circle shattered and mana flowed back.

    Instant bursts of light, heat, and wind.

    The two Camus, who were exposed to a shock wave that made them lose their senses, experienced death at least for a moment.

    Near death. The shattering of everything and the return to nothingness.

    Just then.

    "Camus!"

    A voice held the two women''s consciousness firmly in ce.

    Vikir. He was giving strength to the two Camus beyond the magic circle.

    "...! ...! ...! ...!"

    Camus on that side straightened her bent back with all her might.

    ''Master, give me strength!''

    Recalling Snake''s face, Camus took a deep breath.

    Tsutsutsutsutsuts...

    The sight in her consciousness is shared by Camus on this side.

    In the center of the magic circle, she sees a dark door.

    Wide open.

    Camus'' body was being sucked through it of its own ord.

    Toward the vast abyss beyond, where clouds of stars and gas float.

    Like dust.

    ...Just then.

    Flutter!

    There was someone blocking the way.

    A man stood in the doorway, his ck cloak pping. Morg Snake.

    He spoke to Camus without looking back.

    ''Go back.''

    ''Your journey is not over yet, so go back and tell them it was beautiful.''

    Snake stepped boldly toward the doorway beyond, toward the dawn, dew, sunset, and clouds of the abyss.

    ''May you be a ck mage who can love life.''

    And that was it.

    ...It was like that back then.

    But not this time.

    "Ulyaaaaaaahh!"

    Camus began to release mana with tremendous force.

    And then.

    Ku-ooooooo!

    The darkness rising from the center of the magic circle began to take the shape of a huge door, or rather, a hole.

    It sucked in everything around it with incredible power and appetite.

    Even the two Camus and Vikir could not escape being pulled into it.

    "...!"

    "...!"

    Vikir and Camus on this side instinctively resist the powerful suction that is sucking them in,

    But Camus on that side had a different reaction.

    "There''s no need to resist, just let yourself be pulled in, ''that thing'' is the entrance to the abyss!"

    In order to master the Magic of Full Revival, one must go on an expedition into that terrifying hole that evokes the inherent fear of humanity.

    ''... Master!''

    Camus gritted her teeth once more.

    The path that Snake had traveled so long ago.

    An unknown realm of stars and clouds, gas and dust.

    ''The Magical Abyss''.

    Camus'' final destination has been revealed.

    Side Story Chapter 3

    Two Camus walked through an empty void.

    Behind them, the expressionless face of Vikir could be seen.

    The Abyss of Magic.

    Gas, dust, and star clusters drifted through the void, receding into the distance behind theam.

    Camus on that side spoke.

    "The mana wheel here seems to y the same role as the wheel of a ship."

    "I see. Mana is like fuel. We can inject it through the mana wheel."

    Camus on this side answered.

    The two geniuses worked together as if they were one body.

    It was only natural since they were one and the same.

    Vikir asked.

    "... Is it something thates naturally to you as you travel through this space? I don''t understand anything."

    But there was no answer from the two Camus.

    "I see. All the mysteries of Magic that I''ve been wondering about for so long are here,plete with equations, answers, and the process of solving them. This is, this is amazing!"

    "Yes, it was! Time flows differently depending on the motion of an object, and since spatial and temporal mana coexist in all beings, it was necessary to analyze the mana of both factors simultaneously to reduce the error in the form!"

    "The magic circles are also subject to both space and time and the moment the bnce between these two forces is disturbed, even the same magic circles will have slight errors, which is why the Full Revival Magic always fails... I overlooked the rtivity of space and time."

    "This is heaven! This is an ocean of information! Every speck of dust that floats by is the truth that every mage has longed for all their lives!"

    The women were busy feeling and analyzing the countless particles floating through the Abyss of Magic.

    The realization of truth.

    It was something that was only possible for the most entric of the entrics who dwelled in the maddening depths of the Magic Abyss, so it was understandably iprehensible to Vikir.

    "...I don''t know what that is."

    When you don''t know something, it''s always better to meekly ept help from someone who does.

    They''ll get you at least halfway there.

    Vikir decided to keep quiet and follow the two Camus.

    The two Camus were still talking to each other as they moved forward in their spirit form.

    "The ''Abyss of Magic'' is simr to the ''Ring of Reincarnation''. They''re all just abstract names for the ultimate manifestation."

    "If I canbine the forms I''ve gained from my travels here, I''ll no longer be dreaming of perfecting the ''Full Revival Magic''."

    "That''s right, If that happens, I will have the opportunity to meet Master."

    "You keep saying Master, Master, why do you follow Delegate Snake so closely? He was the one who signed the contract with the 8th Corpse to be King of the Dead?"

    "Not in my world. He was a benefactor who gave his life for me. The reason we are here today is all thanks to the research results he left behind."

    "... So, Snake did that? I don''t believe it."

    "So who do you think was the contractor to the 8th Corpse in the world I came from? House Morg, for the record."

    "Hmm. There''s someone else in House Morg who would make such a stupid contract? I can''t believe it."

    The two Camus were getting to understand each other through their conversations.

    The asional argument or bickering escted, but Vikir, who was behind them, mediated, so there wasn''t much of a ruckus.

    Soon, they were traveling deep into the Abyss of Magic.

    A never-ending road of paradoxes.

    They reached the midpoint between the starting point and the ending point.

    After that, they reach a new midpoint between the midpoint and the endpoint.

    After that, they again reach a new midpoint between the midpoint and the endpoint.

    After that, they reach a new midpoint between the midpoint and the endpoint again and again.

    After that, they go again and again and again and again....

    An endless hell full of nothingness and emptiness.

    Beings trapped in the myriad of fleeting moments that exist between dots and points.

    But despite this, they were still hopeful.

    "I''ve already thought a lot about what kind of infinityes from taking a finite number and adding it an infinite number of times."

    "You mentioned the division between the observable and the unobservable, right?"

    "Yes. That infinity has a sequence. I just don''t know if it''s very clear."

    Vikir nodded at Camu''s words.

    Then.

    As they traveled on, they came across something strange.

    It was the shattered body of a demon.

    Floating in the cold void, the demon''s head opened its eyes.

    [...I don''t know if there''s another one that will make it this far. Are they descendants of ''him''?]

    "You are Baal, aren''t you?"

    Camus on this side asked.

    Camus on that side and Vikir instinctively prepared for battle as soon as they saw Baal.

    The being called Baal spoke in a lonely voice.

    [Do you know my name?]

    "I know. I suffered to death for the war your men caused."

    [All I left behind there is a shell, an illusion. The real me has been trapped here, lost in thought for a long time.]

    Baal thought, remembering a time so long ago that it was no longer clear to Baal exactly when.

    ''And when thest moment of your lifees,e to this ce.''

    And as the voice of ''him'' echoed in Baal''s mind, Baal realized.

    [...And so it was. A milestone. Was this my role.]

    Baalughed in disbelief.

    Baal turned to Vikir and Camus in front of it and said in resignation.

    [Just by traveling here, you will get what you want].

    "...."

    [But even after you get what you want, you will have no choice but to return here again].

    "...."

    [Because that''s what ''he'' wants].

    Those were Baal''sst words.

    "Demon kills."

    Then Vikir drew his nine teeth in the air.

    Camus on that side, also rolled nine mana circles, weaving mes of fire.

    ...kwakwakwakwang!

    Baal was destroyed.

    Demon Lord who ultimately failed to be a demon god, ended up turning into red dust and floating in a space full of nothingness.

    "But what is meant by a milestone?"

    "...We''ve destroyed it, so it doesn''t matter now. Let''s go."

    Vikir and Camus continued onward.

    Just then.

    For the first time in their lives, they encountered a crisis.

    Tsutsutsutsutsuts...

    The size of the mana ring gradually became smaller and smaller, and the amount of mana being injected began to decrease.

    "Hmph. It''s difficult to increase the number of mana rings with my current level of cultivation."

    Camus on that side clenched her fists tightly in frustration.

    Then.

    Tsk-.

    A hand touched her shoulder.

    Camus on this side looked up and gave her aplex re.

    Finally, she opened her mouth.

    "Ever since the fall of mankind, I have lived without trusting anyone."

    The sincerity in her voice is palpable.

    "But right now. I can''t help but trust others. It''s funny how I''vee to rely on others......."

    Just then, Camus on that side tapped Camus on this side on the shoulder.

    "It''s no one else."

    "...."

    "I am you, and you are me."

    "...."

    "And we are us."

    Camus looked at herself and smiled broadly.

    "We can do this."

    Then Camus grinned back.

    "Who said anything, there''s no disputing that."

    "Am. There''s no question about it."

    "But I guess we have a different opinion on this one. Is it a difference in the environment in which we lived?"

    "...?"

    A puzzled look from Camus on that side.

    Puck.

    Camus on this side stretched out her hands.

    Camus on that side and Vikir stumble forward, their backs against the wall.

    At the same time.

    paaaas!

    Camus on this side begins to draw in all of her mana.

    Camus on that side immediately realized what she was about to do.

    "What!? What are you doing now...!"

    "If you were really me, you''d know what I''m about to do."

    "...."

    "If you know, don''t hesitate and take it. I don''t want to waste my energy."

    Camus on this side put all her strength into Vikir and Camus on that side and pushed them forward.

    Then, she moves backward like an adjunct propent that has finished its job and is falling away.

    With one more strong thrust, Camus and Vikir shoot forward in the blink of an eye.

    As they receded into the distance, Camus on this side said.

    "Full Revival Magic. If you can''t figure it out, don''te back."

    "...."

    Camus on that side eyes reddened.

    But tears didn''t flow.

    For her next words.

    "And. Did you say Vikir?"

    "...."

    "You can alwayse back to me if you feel you''re in danger."

    Camus on this side red at Vikir.

    Seeing this, Camus on that side became furious.

    "How dare you flirt with my husband!"

    "I''m you, you''re me, we''re us, so he''s our husband~ hohoho~"

    She hasn''tughed this hard in years, maybe decades.

    Until the end, Camus on this side said something mixed with a deepugh that you couldn''t tell if she was joking or serious, and then she was buried beyond the darkness of the abyss.

    Soon, only Vikir and Camus on that side were left alone in the vast void.

    How much time had passed?

    "... Shall we go then?"

    "...Yes."

    The two continued to move forward, across the shrinking horizon of time and beyond the bounds of perception.

    Something pierced the darkness into their vision.

    "Indeed. Is this a scene that can be seen in the Abyss of Magic?"

    "Wow, this is huge."

    They had arrived at the ''Reservoir of the Magic Abyss''.

    It was a cloud that contained 140 trillion times more water than all the water on Earthbined.

    jjeoeog-

    A fish so huge it could swallow a star leaped over the waves crashing against the cloud''s surface.

    It carried countless tiny babies on the tips of its fins.

    Vikir and Camus continued to push forward through the clouds.

    Soon, they came face to face with a ck hole thousands of timesrger than the sun.

    It was a point of gravity that greedily sucked in everything around it.

    "... Is this the main body of the Magic Abyss?"

    "It looks like it, for one thing, it''s ridiculouslyrge."

    But they decided to give it the benefit of the doubt.

    "Hmm. There''s no way the main body of the Magic Abyss is this small."

    "It could be. It''s big, but not as big as I thought it would be. Maybe it''s a trap."

    They decided to walk right past the giant hole in front of them.

    The slightest turn and an unfathomable amount of time passed.

    Vikir and Camus passed by the wandering stars buried in the darkness of the void.

    Some of them were moaning, with eyes, noses, and mouths.

    "Perhaps they were once beings traveling here, like us."

    "If we linger, we could end up like them. Let''s go."

    Vikir and Camus continued to roll their mana wheels, moving forward.

    Paas-

    It''s getting brighter and brighter.

    No, not brighter, but hotter.

    A giant fireball wasing their way.

    But it wasn''t that big, so Vikir and Camus were able to easily avoid it.

    "That must have been a very long snake once."

    "It must have shrunk in length as it aged."

    The two continued to move forward.

    And then.

    A disk-shaped orb of darkness appeared before them.

    Chunks of cold lead floated around it.

    hududug- hududug- hududug-

    The solidified lead masses move toward Vikir and Camus as if pulled by gravity.

    Vikir pulls out his sword and begins to sh at the flying lead.

    Camus, meanwhile, is using her fire and skewers to fend off the lead.

    As they cleared the shower of lead, Vikir and Camus faced each other.

    Huge pirs rise like the five fingers of the Creator.

    -All things are born from the Abyss of Magic and return to the Abyss of Magic.

    -One day, when the stars move, a door will open to a new level and all things wille to their inevitable end.

    And the moment they saw the words written on it, Vikir and Camus felt a shock like being struck by lightning.

    Chllg-

    Countless lettersbine in their minds.

    ck letters on white drawing paper, form a giant library.

    "...Yes, I get it! I get it now! The Full Revival Magic! I''ve found what Master and I werecking, and now I can revive everyone!"

    Camus frantically began to draw magic circles in the air with her hands.

    Meanwhile, Vikir was using all his strength to remove the lead from the surrounding area.

    And then.

    paas-

    Vikir and Camus'' bodies erupted with light.

    They had gained all that they had hoped to gain from the Magic Abyss.

    The purpose of the ritual had been aplished.

    * * *

    "...."

    Vikir opened his eyes.

    The first thing he saw was.

    "What, did youe back right away?"

    It was Camus.

    Vikir asked her.

    "How much time has passed?"

    "I don''t know, I just woke up. Didn''t we wake up at the same time?"

    Vikir was silent.

    Surely a long time had passed since he had parted ways with Camus on this side.

    But if even that epic amount of time had been just a fleeting, barely perceptible moment in reality....

    Then.

    "It''s only been about eleven minutes since we''ve been in the Magic Abyss, 666 seconds to be exact."

    Camus beside him spoke up.

    She nced at her pocket watch, which she had set before unleashing the full revival magic circle.

    "I never realized the rtivity of time could be so extreme. This is the Abyss of Magic."

    "But I don''t think I can go twice."

    "Really? I''m sure I can go again as many times as I want."

    Vikir and Camus looked at each other and smirked.

    Just then.

    "What is this ce, Dark Side? Why am I here...?"

    A familiar voice came from behind the stone pir.

    Instantly, Vikir and Camus looked up.

    Tears began to form in Camus'' eyes.

    "Aaah...."

    The person struggling there was none other than Morg Snake, Camus'' master.

    "I''m sure I resisted the devil''s temptation and went on a mana rampage..., but howe I''m still alive... huh!"

    Snake stood there dumbfounded, only to be startled by Camus hugging his back.

    "Young, Young Lady? How did you get here...."

    "Now is not the time!"

    Camus decided to put off her emotional reunion with Snake.

    She quickly looked back at Vikir and called out.

    "Husband, let''s get out of here!"

    Morg Snake''s revival told her that the Full Revival Magic had been sessful.

    "...."

    Vikir nodded, too.

    With a rare look of excitement on her face.

    And then.

    ...bang!

    The door to the Dark Side burst open.

    Vikir and Camus stepped out into the blinding sunlight.

    And then. The gates opened.

    The sight before them was something new.

    Side Story Chapter 4

    Der Vogel k?mpft sich aus dem Ei.

    -The bird struggles to get out of the egg.

    Das Ei ist die Welt.

    -The egg is the bird''s world.

    Wer geboren werden will, mu? eine Welt zerst?ren.

    -Whoever wants to be born must destroy a world.

    Der Vogel fliegt zu Gott.

    -The bird flies to God.

    Der Gott hei?t...

    -The name of that God is...

    * * *

    "Sancho, Sancho, are you alive!"

    "Tudor, my friend! How are you!?"

    Tudor and Sancho look at each other, dumbfounded.

    For a moment, they stare at each other in disbelief, and then they embrace in a passionate manly embrace.

    "I thought you were dead!"

    "Me too!"

    They hugged each other, sobbing profusely.

    And then.

    "Excuse me. Friendship is nice, but can you give me a little love, too?"

    Bianca, standing behind Tudor, had a vein of blood on her forehead.

    "Bianca! My funny girlfriend!"

    "What, what kind of bitch is funny gf?"

    "Well, it''s just an idiomatic expression...."

    Tudor and Bianca started bickering as soon as they were reunited.

    Then.

    "What... here?"

    A man stood up from the crowd of revived soldiers.

    Tudor, Sancho, and Bianca recognized the man''s face at a nce.

    "Second Prince!?"

    * * *

    Here is an old man.

    Cold eyes, a stubborn nose, a mouth that looks like it has no hair and a mustache that gives off a heavy aura.

    This old man is giving off a chilling impression.

    "Huaaaaahhhhh!"

    He was crying.

    Very sobbing, too.

    "Roxana! Penelope!"

    Hugo Le Baskervilles, the patriarch of the House of Baskerville, was hugging his wife and daughter, every ounce of moisture in his body spilling out of his eyes.

    Roxana and Penelope stare into each other''s faces, dumbfounded.

    "How did we survive?"

    But there was something more important than that right now.

    "Pomerian, my dear!"

    Penelope held the small girl, who must have been six or seven years old, tightly in her arms.

    Hugo thrust his tear-stained face into Pomerian''s wide-eyed, helpless face.

    "Patriarch, from this day forward, you''ll be the Patriarch of the House of Baskerville, and I''ll do anything you want!"

    "Uaahhh- mustache!"

    "You don''t like mustaches! Hello! Is there no one there? Bring me my sword! Nope! Just grab it with your hands and tear it away!"

    Hugo hugged his wife, daughter, and granddaughter and sobbed like that for a while longer.

    ...and.

    Osiris, his eldest son, was looking somewhat dazed at the sight of his father, whom he had never seen before.

    "I see. My father was human after all."

    He smiled faintly and turned his head.

    There stood his younger brother, Set.

    "Brother."

    "Yes, brother."

    "I don''t know what to tell you. Because my body was taken over by a demon...."

    "I know all about it. Say no more. If everyone has been revived, that''s enough. You are innocent."

    "Brother...."

    Set began to sob.

    Osiris, who had soothed Set''s shoulder, turned away.

    Over the railing, in the bell tower, he saw a familiar face.

    CindyWendy.

    She stared at Osiris with a wavering gaze.

    hwag-

    With that, CindyWendy turned and disappeared down the stairs.

    ...tatag!

    Osiris ran after her.

    * * *

    A little more time passed.

    The Morg and Baskerville families, who had be inws, held a friendly tournament.

    The instructors strolled among the eight-year-old boys and girls sparring.

    "If you hurt each other badly, it counts as a defeat. Keep this in mind!"

    "Hehehe- you''re always so eager."

    Instructor Pavlov van Baskerville eximed.

    And Deacon Barrymore, who was watching, smirked.

    The two men began tough and chat.

    "I hear you''re quite skilled, Deacon. I hear you''ve in quite a few demons."

    "No matter how I''ve been serving the House of Baskerville my whole life, and even fought with the patriarch when I was younger."

    "Hahaha- speaking of which, the patriarch has also be much gentler as he gets older. I can''t imagine what has also be much he used to be like."

    "That''s true. How time flies."

    Just then.

    ...Boom!

    A loud bang from the rehearsal hall interrupted their conversation.

    "Let''s settle this today!"

    "I''ll give you a good smashing!"

    Highbro of House Baskerville and Highsis of House Morg fought fiercely against each other.

    "Let''s settle the matter!"

    "All you can do is parrot your brother''s words, you idiot!"

    As their swords and magic shed, their younger siblings, Midbro and Midsis, could be seen holding their own.

    Highbro, Midbro, Lowbro.

    Highsis, Midsis, and Lowsis.

    The triplets of Baskerville and the triplets of Morg are fiercelypetitive with each other.

    kwakwakwakwakwakwakwang!

    Is it because of themonality of having survived a war together and risen from the same battlefield at the same time?

    Their rivalry was still burning brightly today.

    ...Of course.

    "I guess it''s because my brothers are idiots that they don''t get tired."

    "My sisters are also dishonest."

    Looking at Lowbro and Lowsis holding hands tightly, it didn''t seem like that was the case.

    A newspaper fluttered in the wind at the feet of Baskerville and Morg, a handsome man and woman holding each other tightly.

    [Outside] Marquis de Sade, 666th Failed Prison Break!

    -Last night afternoon, another prison break urred at Nouvelle Vague, the worst prison in the world...

    -Marquis de Sade is the mastermind of thistest escape...

    -His granddaughter, Professor Sady, disguised herself as a guard and tried to rescue her grandfather, but...

    -They were stopped by thebined efforts of Lieutenant General Souare and Countess Isabe, who happened to be in the right ce at the right time...

    -The first person to discover Professor Sady disguised as a prison guard was known as ''Colonel Kirko'' and became the talk of the town...

    -She was a prison guard among guards, an elite among elites, known for her stern and strict behavior...

    -Professor Sady, on the other hand, is known to have had a mysterious behavior since her escape...

    * * * *

    And it was not long ago that the Baskerville and Morg families became inws.

    "...."

    There was another person who gained a new lease on life from the Day of Full Revival.

    Unnamed minor graduate.

    No one knew his name.

    A retired soldier, whosest name is better known as ''Baskerville'', was sitting alone at the fountain in the square.

    "...."

    He stood still for a while, taking in the scenery of the square.

    Thinking about what to do with his life now that he''s out of the military.

    Then.

    "Buy flowers �C fresh flowers -"

    A girl walks by the fountain.

    At that time.

    "...!"

    The girl suddenly stops walking in front of the fountain.

    She walked up to the dazed man and handed him the flower in her hand.

    It was a white, pristine lily.

    The man looked at the flower, puzzled.

    "I don''t have any money,".

    "I''m just giving it to you."

    The girl gave the man the flower.

    "Why are you giving me this?"

    "Just because, for some reason, I felt like I should."

    The girl smiled.

    Then she asked the man

    "My name is Nympet. What''s yours?"

    "...Vikir."

    The girl smiled brightly as the man revealed his name.

    "Thank you for protecting this world, Mr. Soldier."

    And with that. After she left, the man was left alone in the square with the flowers in his hand.

    He stared at the flowers for a while, then muttered in a low voice.

    "... I think I''ll start a flower shop."

    Then.

    "There you are."

    An unfamiliar voice came from behind him.

    A woman, her red hood pulled down deep, came to the man.

    The man stared at her as if he''d never seen her before.

    Then, the woman lifted the hood slightly to cover her face.

    "...!"

    Then, the man''s expression finally shows surprise.

    "I see the war hero, The Empress of Heaven."

    "Oh, never mind. No need to say hello."

    The woman walks over with a brisk stride, then slows down again.

    She leaned against the fountain''s railing, her gait awkward, clumsy, and somewhat shy.

    She was right next to the man.

    " ...What brings you here, Camus-nim?"

    "Omit honorifics, we''re the same age."

    "You''re the same age as me? I didn''t know that."

    The woman smirked at the man''sment.

    Now, she looks into his face with a pointed gaze.

    ''Don''t set your eyes on someone else''s husband.''

    ''I am you, and you are me?''

    ''Oh, I guess not!''

    A voice crackled in her ear.

    She smirked and muttered.

    "I''m you and you''re me, but... This is this, that''s that, that''s this."

    "?"

    The man stares at her in confusion.

    She considers for a moment, then nods.

    "The flower."

    "??"

    "Can''t you give it to me?"

    "????"

    The man looked a little confused.

    But the woman was undeterred.

    "It''s just. I thought I''d get to know you a little better."

    That''s one thing.

    This was this side''s business.

    * * *

    "Wow. I guess everything worked out."

    "Yeah."

    Vikir smirked as Camus pped her hands.

    All of those who had died unjustly at the hands of the demon''s handiwork were brought back to life.

    Camus had controlled the Magic of Full Revival to the finest degree, those who died regardless of whether they were evil or demonic were not revived.

    Meanwhile.

    "I suppose I''ll be revived in this world, too, since the Red Death was the work of a demon."

    "By the way, the original Vikir from this world is also very handsome. He''s like a mature middle-aged man...."

    "Hehe, I heard you used to like flower arranging when you were younger. In a world without fighting, you''d be a flower artist."

    "The Nouvelle Vague on this side of the world has been restored, and judging from the newspapers, it looks like I''m alive and well here too. Happy."

    Aiyen, Dolores, Sinir, and Kirko, who had crossed over from their original world to this world, were still busy chatting.

    Everyone on this side of the world, and everyone on that side of the world, had been brought back to life.

    However, the six from this side of the line had decided that they would no longer interfere with their fate.

    "Now we must n our lives."

    "We''ll have to adapt to this world."

    "There are some subtle differences, but I don''t think it will be too difficult."

    "If you have money, you can live anywhere!"

    "You guys are so easygoing. I like that."

    But.

    "...."

    In particr, Vikir still had unresolved concerns.

    [...I see. A milestone. Was this my role.]

    [Just by traveling here, you will get what you want].

    [But even after you get what you want, you''ll have no choice but toe back here again].

    [Because that''s what ''he'' wants].

    The words of Baal that day are stuck in his head.

    Also.

    ''And when thest moment of your lifees,e to this ce.''

    Is it the mystery of the Magic Abyss?

    What was that voice that came from Baal''s head for an instant?

    "...."

    Vikir stroked his chin with his finger.

    He didn''t know who the voice belonged to, but for some reason, there was a ce that immediately came to mind.

    "...Grave of Swords."

    Vikir let the words slip out of his mouth without realizing it.

    And then.

    "What? Grave of Swords? Where is that?"

    "I heard about it from a revived soldier. It''s where the demons were mysteriously exterminated."

    "It''s in the Yuuni Salt Desert, right? But why is that...."

    "What is it? I have a sudden suspicion. You don''t think he''s going to run off again, do you?"

    "It''s possible if it''s him."

    The five women who were busy chatting overheard Vikir''s muttering.

    Camus, Aiyen, Dolores, Sinir, and Kirko began to silently monitor Vikir''s condition.

    "...."

    "...."

    "...."

    "...."

    "...."

    And Vikir, who ispletely unaware of this, mutters quietly to himself.

    "Perhaps I should meet the man who guards it once more."

    An old memory shes through his mind.

    ''I will see him again someday.''

    He clenched his fists.

    ...kkwaag!

    It was truly the first victory he felt in a long time.

    Side Story Chapter 5

    Wiiiiiing-

    A dry wind blows.

    His ck robe fluttered in the breeze, and his long, graying beard.

    Vikir walked across the white salt desert.

    Hongmen(Great Door).

    Once a vast expanse of greenery.

    Now a wastnd of rock and salt.

    Vikir turned his head and looked out over the desert horizon.

    "...."

    Deste and lonely.

    Age weathered many things.

    Emotions, desires.

    ... But there was one emotion that still pulsed as strongly as it had in his youth.

    A sense of victory.

    Who is stronger.

    It is greed and a delusion that a mere mortal who lives on swordsmanship would not let go of until death.

    So Vikir moved on.

    Throwing off all restraints and shackles, he surrendered himself to the instincts he had held in check for so long, so many years.

    Wiiiiiiing-

    A salty breeze blows in.

    His sword sliced through the edge of the storm like a curtain, opening a path into the center of it.

    Vikir found what he was looking for.

    ''The Grave of Swords.''

    An awl-like tower jutting out of the ground, it bathed in the ckness of the night sky and the red of blood.

    It still stood there, unchanged from thest time he had seen it.

    Vikir brushed the salt grains from his long beard and muttered to himself.

    "...A true Baskerville is born in the ''Cradle of Swords''."

    It''s a famous phrase passed down within the Baskerville family.

    But. there''s a sentence behind it that''s actually hidden.

    "...A true Baskerville dies in the ''Grave of Swords''."

    At this point, he''s probably the only Baskerville who knows this phrase exists.

    With that, Vikir entered the Grave of Swords.

    The steps, each one pointed like an awl, rose high and steep.

    This, too, was the samendscape.

    A terribly deste, suffocating, lonely ce.

    With each step he took, his whole body shuddered, and he felt like his stomach was being ripped open.

    Countless swords are embedded in the floor, walls, and ceiling.

    The water dripping from them was red and fishy.

    jeobeog- jeobeog- jeobeog- jeobeog-

    Vikir continued climbing the stairs.

    One step at a time.

    In this way, it was sliced, chipped, cut out, and worn away, climbing towards the top.

    And then he came face to face with it.

    The iron throne at the top of the tower.

    Then he heard a heavy, nging voice, like the sh of steel against steel.

    [This is the Grave of Swords, the final resting ce of those who pursue the extreme will of the sword.]

    And there stood a man in thick iron armor, his long white beard hanging down.

    Beneath his white eyebrows, where the whites should have been, there was a hollow darkness, and in the center of it, eyes as red as the sun burned coldly.

    His nose was sharp as a knife, his lips tightly pursed, and the dead, blue skin seemed to be so dry that it barely covered the skull.

    His dark heavy armor and massive greatsword made the stronghold he was building seem even more imposing.

    Vikir already knew his face.

    CaneCorso Le Baskerville.

    A former Seven Counts who had seen the turbulence of the Warring States, and the strongest man in the world that even the Age of Destruction had not been able to stop.

    He stroked his snow-white beard and smiled wryly.

    [It''s definitely a familiar face even though it''s my first time seeing it. Does the intuition of a superhuman who has reached the realm of the supreme transcend even space and time?]

    Vikir didn''t bother to answer his question.

    ''It reminds me of old times. When I first met him, I had a hard time even receiving a single sword sh.''

    I wonder how it is now.

    He hadn''t really had a chance to test his strength since the war with the demons ended, and this was a good opportunity.

    ...Chaang!

    Vikir drew his favorite sword, Baalzebub, which had been with him all his life.

    The two swords shed.

    CaneCorso swings hisrge serrated greatsword, and Vikir plunges the long, awl-like shaft of Beelzebub through the swirling maelstrom of strikes.

    Baskerville''s 9th Form and Baskerville''s 9th Form.

    It was only a matter of moments before they shed.

    Nine teeth against nine teeth.

    "...!"

    Vikir stopped moving as if struck by lightning.

    A moment toote.

    His mind raced with the many truths he had seen in the Magic Abyss.

    Meanwhile, something that had been blocked for a long time was opened up.

    ...ppajig!

    Space and time began to distort.

    A tiny speck of light flickered amidst the fierce sh of the nine teeth.

    A tooth protruded from the space where dust, gas, clouds, and star clusters floated.

    It was the tenth tooth.

    It was so small it was barely visible, but it was clearly attached to the other nine teeth.

    ...sh!

    The moment it pierced his body, CaneCorso thought.

    [... Is it thest one?]

    As if in response to this thought.

    ppagag!

    The sword hilt of his trustypanion, ''Fragarach'', snapped in half.

    CaneCorso gazed warmly at the broken serrated sword with warm eyes and muttered.

    [I see, now you''re going to get your Godhood, congrattions.]

    The ck energy within Fragarach rose into the sky.

    CaneCorso''s body also turned to red dust and began to fade away.

    [I may not have be a Sword God, but I was able to be a Sword Immortal. I''ll be content to serve as a milestone for future generations.]

    He let himself be carried away by the storm of shes created by the sh of swords.

    It was the end of a man who had spent his life obsessed with the sword.

    ....

    ...And then.

    The storm subsided.

    Only one man remained. Vikir alone.

    [Your birth will be like the birth of the sword, and your death will be like the death of the sword.]

    The voice of CainCorso, now fading away, drifted away.

    Just then.

    "Ouch, you burn!"

    There is a loud voice behind him.

    Vikir turned around in surprise to see familiar faces standing there.

    "I knew you''de this way."

    "I''ve been keeping an eye on this ce ever since I heard you mutter something once."

    "Everyone is so paranoid...."

    "We have a former prison guard who is a master of tracking."

    "Uh, you mean me? I''m a former prison guard, but I''m not very good at tracking unless you count arrests."

    Camus, Aiyen, Dolores, Sinir, Kirko.

    All of his friends from the other world were there.

    "I, I was going toe alone, but how...."

    On rare asions, Vikir even stuttered.

    It was Camus who stepped forward.

    "You should have brought me, if not the others. You don''t even know how to open the gate to the Magic Abyss."

    "...."

    Vikir shut his mouth.

    Camus stepped into the Grave of Swords of his own ord and stared at the giant sigil carved into the bottom of the spiral staircase.

    "...The traces of ten mana wheels."

    Camus looked at the magic circle engraved on the floor and the marks of the mana injection.

    "It''s simr to a Full Revival Magic, but far more noble, greater, and powerful. ... I can''t believe this kind of magic exists in the world. What was its purpose?"

    "It''s almost as if it symbolizes the truth itself, though it''s not for me to know what sister Camus doesn''t know...."

    Even Sinir, who was no stranger to magic, was breaking out in a cold sweat.

    Aiyen, Dolores, and Kirko put their heads together.

    "I can tell by the trail. There must have been a huge explosion."

    "From what I''ve heard, this area used to be densely forested. Maybe the explosion turned it into a salt desert...."

    "Maybe there was a meteorite or something, and that would exin the two gaps in human history."

    And it was Camus who summarized all these opinions into one.

    "We''ll find out when we go there again."

    A second expedition into the Magic Abyss.

    This opinion was the only one that matched Vikir''s.

    * * *

    Vikir and Camus reached the Magic Abyss once again.

    After passing through the ''Five Fingers of the Creator'' area, they saw a familiar phrase.

    -All things are born in the Magic Abyss and return to the Magic Abyss.

    -One day, when the stars move, a door will open to a new level and all things wille to their inevitable end.

    These two phrases stand like gatekeepers of timeless nothingness.

    Camus stretched out the roots of the ghost tree and twisted the locks on the pirs and between the pirs.

    Eight doors opened, and only then did Vikire face to face with something.

    It was a spirit being in the form of a human, a female form.

    Vikir knew the moment he saw it.

    ''Motherhood (Maternal).''

    The being that was now radiating a bright light in front of him was his distant ancestor, the ''First Mother''.

    And the mother said to Vikir, and to her son.

    [I missed you].

    "...."

    Vikir couldn''t say anything.

    And the mother opened her mouth once more.

    [I was so worried about you that I couldn''t leave. I don''t know how many generations have passed, but you are still my daughters and sons.]

    The mother hugged her son tightly.

    Then she spoke in a warm, moist voice.

    [Now I can finally leave in peace, to where he has gone.]

    "Where are you going?"

    Vikir asked, and the mother replied.

    [To grab him by the hair].

    "...?"

    At Vikir''s puzzled expression, she reached out and stroked his head.

    [Live].

    "....?"

    [Live. Live to the fullest. Live to your heart''s content. Live this world cheerfully.]

    The mother seemed to know and understand what Vikir hade here for.

    But Vikir still didn''t know what to do.

    "Can''t I go with you?"

    The mother shook her head at the question.

    [When thest moment of your lifees, a long timeter, a very long timeter,e to this ce.]

    "...."

    [Until then, enjoymon flirtation and ordinary self-satisfaction, for that is the highest cheerfulness, awareness, and love.]

    That was hisst word with his mother.

    * * *

    Vikir returned from the Magic Abyss.

    He spent a very long time in this world.

    His beautiful wives, his cheerful children, and his happy times with them passed like a dream of the Nine Clouds.

    How much time had passed?

    When all the crimson dust of this world was covered by the sands of time and could no longer decay.

    For the third time in his life, Vikir traveled to the Magic Abyss.

    pis-

    On his first visit, he learned the Full Revival Magic and the truths of the 10 Form.

    On his second visit, he met his first mother.

    What will he do on his third visit?

    ".... .... ...."

    Without a word, Vikir walked up the stairs of dust, clouds, and stars that appeared before him, one by one.

    And at the end of the staircase, at the edge of the Magic Abyss, he came face to face with someone sitting on the edge.

    ''The Five Fingers of the Creator.''

    Beyond the five giant fingers glowed the endless jade throne, or rather, the constetion.

    An old man sat there.

    He fiddled with a handful of personalized ss beads.

    ".... .... ...."

    With a look on his face that Vikir wasn''t sure what to make of.

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