The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound

Chapter 113: The Great Banquet (5)

Chapter 113: The Great Banquet (5)

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 a large chunk of steaming meat in one gulp, too.

"This must be my nephew's brew, the flavor 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 similar 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 glanced over to the head of the great feast table.

There, the triplets – Highbrow, Midbrow, and Lowbrow – were sitting and eating in silence.

"...."

"...."

"...."

From the looks of it, they hadn't reported their last 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 glad 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 accomplishment.

"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 exclaimed.

"An intermediate graduator! What I didn't accomplish 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 accomplishment!"

The two men looked completely 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."

Accurate pronunciation, cold voice.

Vikir turned his head in the direction of the voice.

There he saw long hair hanging like a black 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 succession. 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 dilated slightly at the words.

He was surprised that the man had spoken to him first, but a compliment? 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 to come 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 brother complimenting 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 black 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 glanced 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 his lack of talent with the sword and his lack of compassion, he cared for everyone in the house.

A gentle man who would listen to the discomfort of a maid, even if that maid was new to the house.

The only one of his immediate family to lay 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 replayed 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 succession.

.

.

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.