The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound

Chapter 291: Successors (1)

Chapter 291: Successors (1)

…Thud!

The sixth corpse, demon lord Belial, known as the ‘Worthless One.’

The scene of his massive head falling was something humanity had longed to see throughout in the past, with countless great heroes sacrificing their lives for the chance.

Vikir leaned against the wall, watching the demise of the demon.

He narrowly avoided falling himself.

And as a result, he could witness Belial’s final moments.

‘…With this, the brains of the Demon Alliance is gone.’

A long war between the demon legion and the human alliance. An era of destruction where corpses formed mountains and blood created seas had come to an end, leading to the hollow victory of humanity.

Vikir successfully eliminated Belial, who strategically inflicted the most significant damage on the human alliance throughout those enduring years and caused the most civilian casualties.

With both the cunning mastermind Dantalian and the existence that brought the most harm to civilians, Belial, now gone, Vikir felt a weight lifted off his shoulders.

“Are you okay!?”

Dolores hurriedly ran to Vikir’s side, offering support.

Vikir spoke briefly to her.

“More importantly, time is almost up.”

“What? Time? What time… Ah!”

Only now did Dolores realize the limitations of the time they could spend in this colossal vault.

Pulling out a pocket watch buried in the piles of gold coins, Dolores took a sharp breath.

“The vault door will open soon!”

Once the door opened, it was certain that the agents and soldiers of the Bourgeois waiting outside would rush in.

“They will burst in as soon as the door opens. Be prepared.”

Dolores nodded in agreement to Vikir’s words.

According to Damian’s arrangements, the deployment of forces inside wouldn’t be particularly formidable.

However, there was no room for complacency.

In any case, their mission was to infiltrate the family, assassinate the head, and escape.

“I’ll act as if you kidnapped me.”

“Got it. If you hold me hostage, it’ll be easier for you to escape.”

As soon as the vault door opened, they had to run with all their might without looking back.

But there was one thing bothering Dolores.

“…”

She turned her head and looked at the other side of the pile of gold coins.

On the other side of Dolores’s gaze stood a girl with white hair, Sinclaire.

She stared into space with a blank expression.

Tsutsutsutsu…

The corpse of Belial, melting away with an overpowering stench.

It disappeared as if questioning when it had been here.

The only thing left on the vanishing floor was the corpse of Bartolomeo, twisted grotesquely in death.

Bartolomeo’s face, distorted with fear and pain.

Sinclaire kept trembling as she continued to stare at that sight.

Then.

“Sinclaire! Snap out of it!”

Dolores grabbed Sinclaire’s shoulders and shook her vigorously.

“That’s not Bourgeois’ head! You saw it too! It was a puppet for the demon to manifest!”

“…!”

Upon hearing this, light returned to Sinclaire’s eyes.

Thunk!

She pushed away Dolores’s arm, which was on her shoulder.

“Don’t come any closer!”

“Sinclaire! Believe me! It’s true! That figure wasn’t human. It was a demon!”

Dolores urgently pleaded.

“The vault door will open soon. Many people will come in here.”

“…”

“Let’s go together for now. I’ll explain everything.”

But Sinclaire remained silent, lips tightly sealed. Dolores felt something odd about Sinclaire’s attitude.

Normally, Sinclaire was a polite and respectful junior who followed her well. Her quick thinking also ensured she never caused trouble for others.

However, Sinclaire seemed different now, distinctly so.

Faced with the appearance of a demon she had never seen before, and the death of the Bourgeois family head controlled as the puppet, common sense dictated they should leave the scene first and assess the situation. Yet, Sinclaire refused to join them.

Dolores spoke desperately one last time.

“Sinclaire, if you stay here alone, it’s dangerous…”

“Isn’t it you who’s dangerous? If I stay here and reveal what I saw, you might…”

But Sinclaire remained uncooperative.

A strangely defiant posture, even as she couldn’t hide her anxiety.

Then,

…Clang!

Vikir stepped forward, drawing his blade.

Sinclaire’s gaze turned towards him.

With a blunt voice, Vikir spoke, “Do as you wish. Since I was the one who killed Bourgeois’ head.”

“…”

“The Saintess was taken hostage by me, unaware of anything. The knight will see it that way.”

Sinclaire, however, responded with a trembling voice, “Are you going to kill me?”

“If necessary.”

There was no warmth in Vikir’s voice. Sinclaire shivered at his coldness.

‘Retreat. Otherwise, you’ll get entangled and die.’

It was the same voice she had heard at the academy festival, an icy chill that sent shivers down her spine.

Sinclaire, standing firm, watched as Vikir took a step forward.

“…”

Vikir gazed into Sinclaire’s eyes, lost in thought at her words. A figure who had disappeared from the world when the era of destruction opened, an individual whose name could not be found anywhere in the lists of the Human Alliance. Yet, in the recollections of countless great heroes, she was remembered as a ‘genius,’ ‘elite,’ and ‘extraordinary.’ A mysterious female student who suddenly vanished from the world after graduation, leaving no trace of her name. Should she be spared, or should she be eliminated here? Vikir’s judgment and decision were swift.

“Decide for yourself.”

His voice, with a sharp cut.

“What to see, what to hear, what to believe.”

It weighed heavily on Sinclaire’s heart. She had to decide what to believe in. The moment Vikir turned away…

Thud! Clang!

The vault door swung open. Simultaneously, shouts filled the air.

“Aaaah! What’s going on!”

“Ah, an ambush! Find the family head!”

“All troops, to the vault!”

Confused cries echoed from the Bourgeois forces.

* * *

Crash! With a loud explosion, Night Hound leaped out of the vault. Clattering! Precious gems and gold nuggets scattered in all directions. As the pursuers with weapons and magic staves approached, their attention momentarily shifted to the fallen wealth on the ground. In an instant, Night Hound escaped, carrying the seemingly unconscious Saint Dolores on its back.

“Hey, it’s bad! The family head is gone!”

“Moreover, even the Saintess has been taken hostage!”

“If we continue like this, we’re all done for!”

“Catch them! All troops, to the outer wall! We must rescue the Saintess!”

“No touching! Anyone who dares touch the treasures will be severely punished!”

While chaos ensued, Bourgeois’ forces swiftly adapted to the situation. Among them, Damian, who had recently returned to the main house from the Imperial Mint, was also present.

Hearing the commotion from behind, Dolores slightly opened her eyes and asked, “Can we leave Sinclaire like that?”

Vikir merely shrugged his shoulders. “She seems clever. She’ll find her way out. If needed, she can blame her confusion on the sedative.”

“If she talks about us…”

“Who would believe her?”

Sinclaire, despite being hailed as a brilliant genius, was still a freshman who had just entered the academy, and she was just an ordinary commoner without any notable background. She knew that openly revealing what she had seen inside the vault would lead to being treated as insane, and Sinclaire herself understood that doing so would bring her no benefits.

At that moment, a faint whisper emanated from Vikir’s chest, where Decarabia resided.

[Hehehe. She doesn’t seem inclined to speak. That girl with white hair.]

“She’s the type to try and solve things herself rather than relying on adults,” Vikir responded.

[Did you ever think that such a personality might become more troublesome in the future?]

“I have my own thoughts about that,” Vikir said as he gathered information about Sinclaire.

‘She still has utility in various ways.’

It was a dry judgment, but even considering utilitarian perspectives, it seemed to be the best course of action.

Vikir looked down below the wall, observing the formidable defense of the Industrial clan Bourgeois. Breaking through the crowds rushing from all directions seemed challenging.

“I bid farewell at this point.”

Vikir gently lowered Dolores to the ground.

“What about the Night Hound… I mean, Sir ‘Van’?”

“Just call me as you did before. And I also have a way out.”

Vikir left Dolores, who was sending a worried look, behind and leaped down below the parapet. Although creating a pocket dimension using Andromalius’ ring could simplify the escape, the cooldown period had not yet ended. Therefore, Vikir opted to use the Picaresque mask instead.

Hak hak hak –

Amidst the chaos, not many paid attention to the black puppy cautiously creeping along the corner below the outer wall.

* * *

Inside the vault, only Damian remained after everyone had rushed out. He bowed his head in contemplation as he looked at the fallen body of Bartolomeo.

“…Brother. What a sight this is.”

The demon’s corpse had already melted away, leaving only Bartolomeo’s lifeless body on the floor. The one who once held vast wealth and power had now become a pitiful ragdoll.

It was absurd how the words of a man who possessed so much could end up in such misery. Now that this had happened, what use were the mountains of money and treasures surrounding him?

Damian let out a heavy sigh. Since the soul marriage of his daughter, he had thought there would be nothing more surprising, but now, facing this situation, he felt truly troubled.

“What’s the meaning of demons, and what is ‘Gate’? What on earth is happening…”

Just then.

“It was you.”

A chilly voice echoed from behind Damien. It was as sharp as a dagger, piercing through Damian’s back.

“The one who sent Night Hound and the Saintess into the vault,” the voice continued.

Upon hearing this, Damian slowly turned his head. In his hand he held a steel knife tightly, there were faint streaks of crimson blood.

At that moment, Damian’s eyes widened in astonishment. The hand gripping the knife suddenly lost its strength, and a trembling voice escaped his lips.

“Juliet…?”

His daughter, who had tearfully sent him off, stood there with an icy expression.