The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound

Chapter 216: My Neck Will Be Your Sheath (3)

Chapter 216: My Neck Will Be Your Sheath (3)

Seere's expression becomes wet and distorted in the dark red glow emitted by the Aura Sword.

[If you kill me, this girl will die too!]

But Vikir replies with veiled determination.

"No. Only you will die."

At the same time, a red crescent moon rose and lodged itself in Seere's neck.

...Blood!

Red blood dripped down.

In an instant, Seere jerked her neck back to avoid the blow.

Vikir twisted his sword at the last second, deflecting the blow.

'...Failure.'

Vikir clicked his tongue.

He'd verbally assured himself of success, but it was a bluff.

At the last moment, Vikir hesitated to slit Camus's neck, which saved Seere's life.

...Boom!

Vikir gritted his teeth as he rolled across the skewered field.

Since reaching the top of the Graduator, there was little matter he couldn't slice through.

But he still couldn't cut through abstract things, things like souls and emotions.

Vikir's mind flashed back to a Hugo sword strike he had once witnessed.

A blow so casually swung at the fleeing Andromalius that it split the sky into seven pieces and sliced through Andromalius' mind, which was located somewhere on the border between matter and antimatter.

'If I can't reach that level, I won't be able to separate Camus and Seere.'

For now, Camus and Seere are bound together by a contract, a bond of bad blood.

The unyielding knot is abstract and conceptual, and even the Graduator's aura, which can cut through steel, cannot break it.

...But not so with the aura of the Swordmaster, the highest realm.

A superhuman power that surpasses even ironman. Only it can completely slice and sever the relationship between Camus and Seere.

'With my current strength, I can only kill them both.'

It was a difficult task indeed.

Pfft.

Magic and sword intersected again.

Puff-puff-puck!

Twenty-four halberds stabbed into Vikir's left forearm.

Seere was also struck by a sword, but this time, t was only a blow that avoided a vital area.

[Hohoho- once again, your actions don't match your words, try being a little more impudent].

The more poisonous the words that come out of her mouth, the thicker the magic in the air.

Grrrr...

As you touch the life force exuded by Seere, you can feel the underlying emotions of Camus.

Sadness, affection, longing, resentment, anger, and fond longing.

The emotions she's been harboring since she was eight years old, the ones she's tried to erase and hide, the ones that keep sprouting and taking root.

It's what she felt after Vikir disappeared, what she felt when she searched the depth day and night for him, what she felt when she thought he was dead and gave up the search, what she felt when she immersed herself in the research to bring him back, what she felt when she turned her back on her mother and uncle and became part of the Dark Hall, and what she felt when she was involved in a horrific accident that cost her half of her body and soul and made a pact with the demon....

"...."

Vikir gritted his teeth.

No matter how hard I try, I can't do anything about it with the Graduator's skills.

Dignity. Even if it means crying, you must be truthful.

Emotions that I thought had died out in my heart a long time ago were creeping up again.

'Did Hugo feel this way too?'

I had heard that he, too, had lost his wife and daughter before becoming a Swordmaster, a superhuman.

It was hard to imagine what kind of emotions Hugo must have felt then, and to what extent.

Vikir first took a deep breath.

Puff, puff, puff!

Even now, the iron skewers piercing his body, burning hot as hell.

Seere burned away all of the spider traps that Madame cub had set.

She frowned at Vikir's silent suffering.

[There's no chance for you to win anyway. You cannot kill this girl.]

"...."

Turning to the silent Vikir, Seere made a deal.

[Alright, then we'll make a deal.]

"...?"

Vikir's eyes narrowed.

Seere smirked, thinking that Vikir's demeanor had changed.

[Let's make a deal].

Her demands were simple.

[If you release this barrier, I will leave this place, without killing anyone].

"...."

[But if you refuse this offer, you know that, right?]

Seere smiled broadly with Camus face.

[The moment all of your mana is used up, I will break this barrier and go out and kill every single child in this academy].

Seere didn't seem to be too pleased with the current situation either.

In other words, no matter how hard you fight here, there is nothing to gain for Seere.

You have to survive to get your money's worth, and the demon never makes a losing deal.

[If you back off, we can all live. You, me, this girl, and all the civilians at the Academy.]

Seere demanded, as if it were a given.

But.

Vikir shook his head again.

"I don't make deals with demons."

[What? You're going to kill her?]

"No. I will only kill you."

[No, this kind of wall window... ... By what means?]

At Sere's words, Vikir narrowed her eyes.

The liquid aura of the Graduator. Surely, something this fluffy can't cut the cord of Camus's contract with Seere.

The Swordmaster's solid aura. Only something solid like that could cut through that invisible, formless knot.

At the same time, the thoughts that had been floating around in my head from earlier are organized.

-To reach the pinnacle of the Sixth Form, you must abandon your emotions.

-But to open the door to the seventh, you must retain your emotions.

Vikir didn't know exactly what feelings he had for Camus now.

Before the regression, respect for a hero of the Age of Destruction.

And after returning, I became attached to my childhood friend of the same age.

'I wonder if I would have felt the same way if I had a younger sister?'

There's a similar, yet subtly different, feeling with his nephew, Pomeranian.

The feelings that Vikir thought he'd killed were alive and well, rooted and sprouting deep within him.

And. Vikir is just discovering that feeling.

[...Now!]

Seere's expression suddenly changed.

The whites and blacks of Camus's eyes instantly regained their original colors.

She cries out with tears in her eyes.

Her strength instantly pushed back Seere's spirit and regained control of her body.

...It was only a small amount, though.

Seere protested as she was pushed backwards.

[Crazy bitch! How dare you take over my body after 12 hours! This is a breach of contract! Your soul will be destroyed!]

But Camus was still in control of her body. Despite the pain of her soul being shredded.

Focusing only on her mouth and hands, she shouted.

[Do it!]

Camus's hands grabbed at the hard bony armor and tore it apart, exposing her neck and chest.

Soul and spirit clashing within a single body.

It was only natural that a mana surge would occur.

Seere, floating like a mist behind Camus's body, cried out in alarm.

[The mana surge is coming again! Are you going to suffer through that again? This time you're going to die!]

[Vikir! Come on!]

Camus cried out with her eyes tightly closed.

Now, indeed, she and her neck and chest are ready to become Vikir's sheath.

And.

"...."

The moment he swung the red trajectory towards Camus's neck. Vikir thought.

'Make no mistake.'

Only one chance.

Even a veteran who had crossed so many lines of fire could not help but be drenched in sweat this time.

A split second, a terrifyingly short moment.

Vikir swung his sword with so much thought, anguish, and conflict.

During that time, the emotions he thought he had killed took root, sprouted, and eventually bore fruit.

A whirlwind of emotions that burst forth like a flood.

It violently swept away all the dryness and cracked lack that had existed.

A wall in front of me.

The wall that was so big and high that nothing seemed to be able to overcome or break down, crumbling away like a sand castle soaked in waves.

It's almost comical how easy it was.

At the same time, unprecedented forces that had been blocked behind the wall began to surge in explosively.

"...! ...! ...! ...!"

Power surges through my veins. A sense of exaltation, as if he had transcended humanity and become something else, something higher.

Vikir had only felt this once before.

Only once before had he felt this way, when he'd beheaded Dantalian under the blessing of Saintess Dolores.

But there was one difference: there was no saintess here now ....

There's just a scarred hound who bared his teeth to save the girl in front of him!

Next.

The trajectory of Vikir's sword's tip splintered into many different paths.

The most prominent of them was the seventh tooth, larger and sharper than any of the others, a blood-red trajectory that stretched toward the Camus's neck in front of him.

And.

The sword that cut what could be cut became a knife that could cut what could not be cut.

Sprout-

It was a supreme realm.