Iron Blooded Hound

"The method for bringing down an underground economy is actually very straightforward; you simply need to focus on the root issues between the spots."

Vikir repeated the words he'd addressed to the Chihuahua.

The huge underground economy of a longshot city, and the large players who control it.

Vikir definitely knew the spot, on account of his pre-relapse information.

Yet, it would be outside the realm of possibilities for a solitary man to bring down such an enormous operation.

So Vikir had anticipated this.

"I was contemplating whether I could acquire ... ... .

A discussion with Hugo prior to leaving Baskerville.

I'm almost certain that is when Vikir said.

"I was contemplating whether I could get the Knights."

Hugo contemplated it, and afterward allowed authorization.

He gave her the option to involve one knight for a portion of a day, a piece of House Baskerville's tactical power.

"I trust you will not do anything absurd. My son.'

The implications of surrendering military power, but restricted, were critical.

He perceived Vikir as his child and would treat him as needs be.

In this way, the Pitbull Knights, one of the mainstays of Baskerville's military might, went under Vikir's control.

For the following six hours, each of the 100 of the Graduators, the iron-blooded knights who are known for abandoning no survivors, will be Vikir's subjects.

What's more, presently, Vikir was utilizing them to clear away the debasement of Longshot City all at once.

"Hugo was especially delicate to the military. It's great that we got the pit bull back in one piece.

Given Hugo's inclination to be incredibly careful about nearby authorities having private fighters, it was normal that he wouldn't surrender his knighthood without any problem.

Yet, Hugo's confidence in Vikir was serious areas of strength for shockingly, it made things simpler.

Vikir looked at the gathering of Pit Bull Knights arranged behind him.

A Zagoro contender should never go on the defensive toward.

A sub-par rate warrior puts stock in his own solidarity and peers down on his foes.

An inferior battling canine responds excessively fast to the foe's actions.

A five-star battling canine has tolerance and levelheadedness, but not the existence in his eyes.

Lastly, the zenith of the battling canine is basically as quiet as a lifeless thing, not reacting by any means, regardless of how incensed or undermining the adversary is.

Woody Temperance (木鷄之德).

Maybe they were cut out of a tree.

In that sense, the Pit Bull Knights are an extremely focused gathering of warriors.

They presently remained behind Vikir like lumps of wood, sitting tight for orders.

Vikir turned over the motor.

"Chomp them all to death."

100 pit bulls uncovered their teeth.

Vikir yelled at the running canines.

"Do not kill the ones that stay down. In any case, assuming they move, kill them without kindness."

It was an admonition.

Vikir's words were clearly enough so that his foes could hear.

The individuals who lost the will to battle immediately dropped their weapons, dropped to the ground, and lifted their hands and feet vertical.

The larger part, nonetheless, proved unable.

"Aaaaah!"

"Aaaah help me!"

As she shouted and squirmed, her head was barbarously cut off.

I could see her fat head moving around under her fur garment, which was stained red.

The escaping moderately aged man is eviscerated on the spot.

Everyone the same were passing on as they escaped or shouted.

...That didn't imply that the people who remained down were safe.

"Ugh, how about we simply get down. We'll leap out when it's somewhat calmer."

A few group set down on their stomachs on the floor and put their hands and feet up.

It was an indication that they were sitting tight for binds.

But.

"We don't convey cuffs."

A Pitbull Knight grinned as he stepped before them.

Similarly as they were going to ask what they planned to use to tie their hands and feet.

...Thud! ... Thud!

The Pitbull Knight's blade cut through their appendages.

Wrists and lower legs snapped off.

"Kaaaaaah!"

"Aaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!"

They crept across the floor, giving indications of departure, and afterward quickly dropped like bugs.

The Pitbull Knights, obviously, are totally unperturbed and send off themselves at the other moving prey.

Meanwhile.

Close to Vikir, a dull-haired, moderately aged man remains with a thick stogie in his mouth.

He is an impressive man with a transformed triangle of muscle, a square jaw, indented cheeks, shades concealing his eyes, and scars all around his face.

Count Les Baskervilles, a Boston Terrier, asks Vikir.

"Nephew, would you say you are fulfilled?"

"Indeed uncle."

"Hmph, kid. In the event that there's anything more I can accomplish for you, simply give the signal."

He was very enamored with his nephew, Vikir, for no great explanation, since he preferred the manner in which the rice leaves vacillated.

The Boston Terrier figured it couldn't damage to have a nephew who was likewise the number one of his lord, Hugo.

Vikir didn't feel awful for the Boston Terrier, who was not keen on power, honor, or political fights, but absolutely in blood and battle.

All at once, the Chihuahua close to him shouted out in a temperamental voice.

"Your Excellency. Yet, would you see any problems assuming I slit off their wrists and lower legs like that, despite the fact that they're aristocrats?"

"What on earth, they're going to be executed at any rate, and the cuffs do not merit the difficulty, simply ensure they can't !ChatGPT

move away."

Hearing Vikir's response, the Boston Terrier Count chuckled with even more satisfaction.

"Hmph, nephew, you should join our Pit Bull Knights sometime in the future. This uncle will raise you properly."

Vikir could only answer with a weak smile.

A moment or so later, the Pit Bull Knights stormed in and the situation was finished.

It was literally over.

All the big bads in Longshot City were either dead or captured.

Of course, there were some who were casually missing, but that could easily be traced back to their detainees' records and contact lists.

"This... is the best thing ever! It's so awesome!"

The Chihuahua shuddered with excitement as he watched the criminals being led away into the distance.

The war on crime was suddenly declared, and it was over surprisingly quickly.

Now they'll need to clean up the mess, but that will be easy.

Even the native families who lost their children could not express anything about it.

The future of Longshot City was clear, simple, and bright.

"Congratulations, nobody will dare to oppose Vikir now, will they...?"

The Chihuahua jumped for joy.

But Vikir, the person who should have heard it, was long gone.

"I think it was near..."

Vikir had proactively returned to the back of the auction house.

The carnage was still happening before the stage across the way.

By now, Vikir had slipped through the back unnoticed and reached 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 aristocrats visiting the city.

"The tax revenue should be great."

This would all be added to the city's treasury, and the Baskervilles' money chests would be even stronger.

Vikir could have done without the thought of Hugo being happy, but it didn't matter now, so he let it go.

Vikir scanned the warehouse for a while.

Piles of notes and records.

He decided to keep all of them, as they would be valuable evidence in his future strikes.

But there was something else he was really after.

"It is right here."

With that, Vikir pulled aside the red fabric hung over the deepest corner of the auction room.

There lay a huge, horned load animal.

<Murcielago, the Diabolical Buffalo>.

Peril Rating: A

Size: 3 meters

Seen as in: Red and Dark Mountains, Edge 2

A kind of cattle that inhabits the Oil Domain in the depths of Misery.

It is said to have nineteen hearts and won't stop charging until they all stop.

Bing-bing-bing.

Satan on the wrist was whimpering that he was hungry.

Somewhere in the distance, the Pitbull Knights' swords and the screams of their foes were drawing nearer and closer.

Vikir had better finish his meal and get going.

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