The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound

It only takes one man to throw a single stone.

A large 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 accumulated abandonment, their anger accelerates 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 their last chance to counterattack, a chance that would not come again.

Soon, the two veterans led their last remaining troops out and began pressing the poisonous soldiers on the left and right flanks, 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 uncommon 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 slashed at the poisonous soldiers in front of him.

And as he did, one strange thing after another happened.

...! ...! ...! ...! ...! ...!

The poisonous soldiers coming behind Vikir were continuously being defeated.

'Someone's backing me up.'

Vikir glanced 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 – 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? Sinclair? 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.

...Flash!

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. Süskind."

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!

Süskind, still standing after being struck by Vikir's blow... No, what was once Süskind.

It pushed against Vikir's sword with its mouth gaping wide open in a display 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 Süskind 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.

Black 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, nonchalantly, 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 slashed, Hugo stabbed through the gap.

Vikir slashed 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-]

A laugh rises from the battlefield beyond.

Vikir recognized its owner at a glance.

Flauros. The source of all evil.

His eyes glowed as he grinned at Vikir.

[Rampage, my poison is infinite!]

As if to prove his point, Flauros pulled up behind him, a massive carriage behind him.

A carriage with a black barracks on top.

It was the poison recharging station Vikir had seen on his way to claim the water source.

O-ooooooh!

One by one, the poisonous soldiers began to withdraw from the walls of Tochka Fortress.

Presumably to enter the black 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!]

Flauros 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 flames.

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 Flauros.

His expression was extremely contorted as he turned around in surprise.

[What, what!? Why is my Uroboros...!?]

Suddenly, Vikir and Flauros' 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. f(r)eewebn(o)vel.com

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 Sinclair's face in the crowd of Vikir's companions, Grenouille muttered in a daze.

"...Yes. A man should be proud."

The voice sounded like it was coming from a distant memory.

Sinclair shook her head.

...chwaag!

Two snakes jumped out of the boiling oil.

Despite the horrific burns that fried their bodies, the Uroboros summoned the last of their strength and grabbed the dazed Grenouille by the throat, dragging him into the jar.

wasisisisisi-

Hot oil bubbled out of the large jar.

Soon there was nothing but silence in the barracks.

As Flauros 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.

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