The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound

Chapter 68

Episode 68: Flesh and Blood (1)

The jungle’s four seasons are quite distinct. Summer, scorching summer. Winter, brutal winter. Over the vast expanse of the floodplain, the seasons change countless times beyond the sea of trees. And here, in a tranquil meadow at the onset of changing seasons…

Thunk!

A dull sound reverberated. A Ballakin warrior in his late teens or so held his nose, which was wrapped in a cloth, and sat down.

“Ow, my nose!”

The man who was grumbling with blood dripping from his nose was Ahun.

In front of him stood a man with an indifferent expression, his fist extended.

Tall in stature, roughly cut black hair, cold eyes, and fair skin.

Vikir looked down at Ahun with an impassive expression.

“That’s enough.”

Having finished the practice, Vikir turned away without a word.

Ahun grabbed the hand of a comrade who was helping him up.

As Vikir’s figure grew more distant, Ahun spat in the direction he had left.

“Damn bastard. Since recovering, He’s becoming more and more like a monster.”

Laughter rippled among the comrades around him.

“Well, he was impressive from the start. And I heard his archery skills are nearly on par with Leader Aiyen’s. But seeing his punch just now, he’s not that remarkable.”

“Right, exactly. Although blood came out of Ahun’s nose, I could’ve done that too.”

The comrades laughed and exchanged remarks. Ahun spoke in a subdued voice.

“…It didn’t touch me.”

“What?”

“The punch. It didn’t touch me.”

Only after a moment did the comrades, one by one, open their mouths in surprise.

They were still dumbfounded, staring at Vikir’s back, which had become very distant and was now just a tiny dot.

Vikir had just turned seventeen this year.

His face had lost much of its youthful innocence.

His height, once small, had rapidly grown with each passing day, and the plumpness of his cheeks had turned into a more defined shape.

The two years spent in the floodplain had been immensely beneficial to Vikir.

Not only had his body fully recovered, but his physique and spirit had also become much stronger.

Vikir realized that the stares from Ahun and other fellow young warriors had disappeared, and he decided to demonstrate his true power.

…Pakang!

The crimson sword Beelzebub emerged from the artery on his wrist.

The blade was now thicker and longer. It could be drawn out to almost a meter.

Vikir swung Beelzebub, testing out different slashing and thrusting techniques.

…Crack! Squelch!

The rock in front of him split in half, and the one beside it had a hole punctured through.

Generally, sending a sword technique in a thrusting motion requires more skill than sending it in a slashing motion. This indicated that Vikir had reached a significant level of swordsmanship.

Right after shattering the rocks, Vikir proceeded to destroy an additional four rocks.

Six rocks were destroyed almost simultaneously.

Six rocks were torn, split, punctured, struck, and cleaved.

The skill he used was the Piercing fang of the hunting dog.

Vikir had fully mastered Baskerville’s 6th Fang.

After just pulling out the six fierce fangs a moment ago, Vikir wiped the sweat drenching his body.

Mana, surging within him, formed six circles and spun rapidly.

With this, Vikir reached the peak of a fully-fledged Graduator.

‘But I still haven’t overcome the barrier of a Master.’

What’s with the ‘Master’?

Being a fully-fledged Sword Graduator was just an achievement he had recently reached. As it stood, he had completely surpassed his past life.

Before regressing, he had remained a Graduator throughout his 40-year life, unable to overcome the wall of a Master.

It might sound like a play on words, but there undoubtedly existed an intermediate barrier that must be surmounted between a fully-fledged Graduator and a Sword Master.

‘Peak of Sword Graduator.’

Gooey Liquid Aura, is the state of being able to manipulate the liquid aura that feels almost like a solid.

To reach this level, he had to fully master his abilities from his past life.

Moreover, He might be able to break through the wall of a Master.

However, apart from attaining the highest level of a Graduator, Vikir had confidence in defeating even a top-tier Graduator in actual combat.

A step above, the ability to kill stronger opponents.

This was possible due to the protection of the Styx River’s blessing, the cursed sword Beelzebub, and the archery and assassination skills learned from the savage warriors of the Ballak tribe.

“The highest output seems to reach the pinnacle of a top-tier Graduator.”

Nevertheless, forcibly squeezing out this level of ability couldn’t truly be considered his genuine strength.

Additionally, his true aim was Hugo Le Baskerville, the head of the Baskerville family.

Regardless of the outcome, Vikir needed to continue his diligent efforts.

Eventually, Vikir returned to the village.

At the entrance of the village, young hunters who were just about to go hunting were waiting for Shaman Aheuman’s blessing.

They still had soot smeared across their faces.

This ritual prevented the spirits of the slain prey from remembering their faces.

.

Ahueman stood there, late to arrive, with a discontented look in his eyes, gazing silently.

However, even if Vikir were to simply go hunting, they couldn’t deny him the blessing since he consistently achieved the best results.

Besides, if Vikir achieved remarkable results even without the blessing, it would prove that the shaman’s blessing didn’t hold much significance.

Eventually, Ahueman haphazardly applied soot to Vikir’s face, revealing patches of his fair skin due to the lack of care in the process.

“May the gods of the hunt shall be with you.”

“Thank you.”

As Vikir also didn’t particularly need Ahuhehman’s blessing, they parted without any further exchange.

Meanwhile, Aiyen was receiving a report from the hunting group that had returned before heading out for the hunt.

Unusually, she wore a serious expression as she listened attentively.

Vikir approached Aiyen and asked, “Not going hunting?”

“Hmm. Later.”

It was quite rare for Aiyen to express her refusal.

Normally, she would approach him and suggest things before he could ask.

.

?

Though Vikir was somewhat puzzled, he decided not to pry any further.

Before long, Vikir, armed with a hastily drawn shortsword, a bow, and arrows, delved deep into the floodplain without any accompanying wolves.

Despite his simple attire and equipment, Vikir achieved far better results than other hunting groups with more members and equipment.

Except for Aiyen, that is.

“Gone?”

After confirming that Vikir had completely vanished, Aiyen turned her head again.

A subordinate who had been reporting nodded and continued speaking.

“Let me summarize the findings. Firstly, the rainy season is approaching.”

During their previous reconnaissance mission, they encountered a peculiar creature as they passed a stream.

It was a fish called the “lungfish” These fish had lungs, which allowed them to breathe air, enabling them to survive for a considerable time outside the water.

By flapping their fins, they would crawl across mud puddles.

During the dry season, they would dig rooms in deep, damp mud and sleep, then become active again during the rainy season when humidity increased.

The fact that these creatures were around undoubtedly indicated that the rainy season was imminent.

Since the rainy season could bring about floods and diseases, it was necessary to prepare in advance.

“Secondly, we discovered suspicious foreigners.”

As Aiyen listened to the next report, her eyes narrowed.

The individuals who entered the floodplain were Imperials with fair skin.

I wondered if they were remnants of the merchants or mercenary groups that were wiped out two years ago, but of course, that wasn’t the case.

They entered quietly and left quietly, performing only one action: releasing something into various locations along the river.

Red liquid in glass bottles.

These suspicious individuals poured it into the river and left the jungle just as quietly.

Among the Balakin warriors, one was captured.

He ingested the poison hidden in his mouth and took his own life.

All they left behind was a single shortsword with a large snake symbol engraved on it.

Aiyen held it in her arms.

She planned to ask Vikir later about its significance.

If Vikir, who knew almost everything, didn’t know about this symbol, she would be surprised.

“Thirdly, the current situation of Rokoko.”

Her subordinate continued the report.

Rokoko was a tribe that could be considered a rival of Ballaks.

Just as all members of Ballak’s were excellent archers, all members of Rokoko were shamans.

Their curse and the price of their protection were known as “black magic” in the empire.

Aiyen furrowed her brow.

According to the report, the Rokoko tribe had hardly revealed themselves in their territory recently.

Considering that they had nearly ten times the population of Ballak’s, this was quite unusual.

Finally, the last report came.

“Fourthly, the Morg Expedition.”

Aiyen reacted most sensitively to this fourth report.

“They’re here again?”

“Yes.”

“They’re here a lot.”

“Their commander?”

“Is it her?”

“Yes.”

“’That woman’ again.”

Hearing the account from her subordinate, Aiyen frowned.

The Morg Expedition had been tirelessly scouring the floodplain for the past two years.

And as always, the commander of the forefront of the expedition was unchanged.

Camus Morg.

She was approaching closer.