The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound

Chapter 213: Festival Night (10)

Chapter 213: Festival Night (10)

A black curtain falls.

Tsutsutsutsuts...

Vikir rubbed his ring to create a barrier.

Creating the barrier took a lot of mana, but it was definitely worth it.

Two spaces are overlapping in one coordinate, but they are distinctly different concepts and cannot interfere with each other.

This would be very useful if you needed to store a lot of stuff, or if you needed to get into a big fight with a lot of people watching.

Vikir stared into the space between the barrier.

An empty abyss. A barren, vast wasteland.

Countless swords stuck into the ground, old and weathered by the winds of time.

Only broken and destroyed stone statues roll around.

"...."

Beyond the countless swords, Vikir gazed at the two statues that stood tall in the center of the abyssal hollow.

One was that of Hugo Les Baskerville, and beside him was that of Osiris Les Baskerville.

They were enormous compared to the size of the other miscellaneous statues, and though they were chipped here and there, they were still solid.

And beneath them were a number of smaller, shattered statues, all of them with familiar faces.

The Baskerville family's servants, nannies, butlers, guardian knights... ... Occasionally, I saw stone statues that seemed quite large, and they were the Seven Counts.

Vikir had an instinctive hunch.

'This is the mind of Set Les Baskerville.'

If he was right, what was Set's state of mind before he was possessed by the demon?

What had he seen, what had he heard, what had he thought, what had he lived in?

The statues of his father and brother still loomed large in the space that had been left empty after their deaths.

Vikir recalled the battle with Andromalius.

'..., son, what are you doing there?'

'Ah, father, I came here on business...!?'

Andromalius froze at the mere sight of Hugo because of the residual thoughts of Set, the original owner of the body.

His inability to live up to his father's expectations, the inferiority complex he had with his brother, and his intense self-hatred.

It must have destroyed his relationships with everyone around him.

And it would have driven him to the depths of his mind, where there was nothing but empty darkness.

Set must have heard Andromalius' voice in the deepest reaches of this barren space.

When he was at his most bitter and most desperate.

'Well, those who make contracts with the demon are usually like that. They come when a person's heart is completely broken.'

A broken heart means you've given up on life.

Unlike the lesser demons, who pact through emotions such as momentary pleasure or greed, the higher demons of the Demon King class only visit such people.

The moment when a man, once the most virtuous of all, falls from the top to the bottom in the greatest of falls.

A terrible temptation, an irresistible offer.

Such is probably the case with the Corpse Queen, who now stands before Vikir's eyes.

[...is this within the barrier of the Ten Corpse?

The Eighth, the Corpse Queen, raised her head and looked at the Vikir before her.

Vikir looked at the corpse queen through the eyeholes of his mask.

The skull-masked woman must have a story, too.

Perhaps she'd struggled through unimaginable pain, sorrow, and screams before accepting the demon's offer.

'... but no grave without an excuse.'

What the Corpse Queen's story was that led her to take Morg Snake's place in the position of Eight Corpse.

As far as Vikir is concerned, she is simply an absolute evil that killed countless allies before she was turned.

"Let's end this, demon."

The battle would have been much more difficult if it had been the Eight Corpse who had taken over Morg Snake's body.

But the current Corpse Queen is not yet up to par.

Her talent and potential for magic was on par with Morg Snake's, even exceeding his, but time had not yet allowed the Eight Corpse Seere itself to develop much strength.

Furthermore, the Corpse Queen, for some reason, had not yet fully surrendered herself to the demon.

"This is good news in many ways."

Vikir immediately fed Anubis an arrow.

Puff-puff-puff!

The deadly snipe he had learned from Aiyen shot towards the Corpse Queen and flew away.

But.

POP!

A rock wall rising ninety degrees from the ground deflected all the arrows.

Geronto stood firmly in front of the Corpse Queen.

Hoodeducs-

The bone seeds sown by the Corpse Queen began to produce countless skeleton soldiers once again.

With her undead army at her side, the Corpse Queen once again regained her monarchial dignity.

[Show me your face].

She was determined to tear off the mask of the Night Hound and leave him naked.

Vikir frowned at her persistence.

Soon, a large number of dead soldiers began to press in around him.

Archery was at a disadvantage against such a large number.

The Corpse Queen was well aware of this, and was pressuring Vikir from all sides.

However.

...A flash!

Vikir unleashed his true power only now that all the eyes were gone.

[Hack-]

Vikir, who had attached the threads from the cub to Hugo's statue, rose up from his seat.

The ground where Vikir stood a moment ago was covered in skeleton soldiers.

Quack, quack, quack!

A blood-red aura swirls around like a six-and-a-half-headed snake, tearing the ground apart.

Baskerville Form Sword Technique!

A crimson aura rises up and engulfs the dead soldiers.

Passtsss...

An exorcism ritual using physical force. The undead return to where they belong.

Crackle, crackle, crackle! Pow!

The power of the highest level of the Graduator burst forth unchecked.

Vikir pushed forward, slaughtering his enemies relentlessly.

Six and a half gigantic wheels made of aura were moving forward, breaking, crushing, crushing, and tearing the bone wall without hesitation.

Lich Geronto cast a few spells to try and stop Vikir's attack, but it was no use.

Source.

[....]

The Corpse Queen does nothing as she watches Geronto get pushed back.

Vikir was able to easily break through the encirclement and stand in front of the Corpse Queen.

Soon, he'll be able to kill the demon and its host in front of him.

'First, we'll separate the neck and head, then remove the skull mask to see what's inside.'

"You will remove the mask."

With that, the tip of the blade extending from Vikir's wrist is aimed at the Corpse Queen's throat.

You will now know the identity of the one who has taken the place of the Eighth Corpse, the Morg Snake who rules the dark faction of Morg the Mage.

Then.

[... no].

The Corpse Queen's mouth opened.

[I can't take off my mask].

At the same time.

Pow!

The tip of Vikir's blade deflected.

It wasn't because the Corpse Queen had done something tricky, and it wasn't because of a lapse in concentration or stamina.

Instinct. The instincts of a veteran hound who has seen countless battles, and at the last second, the tip of the sword slightly twisted its trajectory.

In the end, Vikir struck the corpse queen near her forehead, and it ricocheted off the hard part of her skull mask.

Crack!

It was as if he had struck a chestnut.

...Crack!

The ears of the skull mask were incontinent.

"...?"

Vikir landed on the ground and shook his head.

He didn't understand why he'd just twisted the tip of his sword, even to himself.

'What is this? Has this ever happened before?'

No, I assure you. Not once. In all my life, before and after my regression, in all the many, many slopes I've crossed, I've never made that mistake.

Only.

Parr...

The right hand holding the magic sword Beelzebub trembled faintly.

This was not a matter of the flesh but of the spirit. a movement of the mind.

The emotions he had killed, or thought he had killed, as he rose to the highest levels of the Graduator, were still alive and stirring, albeit faintly.

'What the hell....'

The Night Hound's brow furrowed slightly at a situation he had never experienced before.

The Corpse Queen, in contrast, remained nonchalant.

Her voice was steadfast, as if she had some sort of conviction.

[I can't take off the mask].

"...."

[This was put on by contract. I can neither show my face nor reveal my name of my own volition].

"...?"

[That's why I need you to reveal your identity].

"...!"

The Corpse Queen's voice trembles slightly.

A voice so hoarse from crying so much, from shouting so much, from being so overwhelmed.

But the watery voice at the end resembles the voice of the past, if only for a moment.

"...No way."

Vikir froze for a moment.

And when the Corpse Queen saw him hesitate, she shouted again.

[So show me your face! Tell me your name!]

At the same time, hot flames erupted from the Corpse Queen's hands.

Black infernal flames, and iron skewers poking out of the center of the flames.

In the heat of the fire and the skewers, Deadpool stepped in front of Vikir and quickly raised his sword.

Baskerville's fangs burst forth, shredding both the flames and the skewers.

And it plunged straight into the defenseless corpse queen.

...Woodduck, snap!

Another crack in her skull mask.

Soon, the bone fragments slowly scattered.

Time passed slowly.

The pieces of the mask fall apart, and the pieces of the memory fit together.

In a distant memory amidst the shards and bones, the face of a child, a young girl, rises to the surface of my subconscious.

'No! Vikir! Please come back!'

The same voice I last heard.

A face from so long ago was here.