The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound

Chapter 375: The Hounds of Nouvelle Vague (1)

Chapter 375: The Hounds of Nouvelle Vague (1)

Nouvelle Vague, a place the world has abandoned.

In this remote area 10,000 meters below the sea, there is only one day warm.

It was Christmas Day at the end of the year. Lun's birthday. It's the only day of the year when prisoners are allowed a holiday.

The meals were different.

Instead of the usual pickled sardines and brick-hard black bread, they are served pork jerky and soft white bread.

For the first time in a long time, the prisoners eat in a proper dining room, not on the floor of the labor camp. Candles burn on leaden candlesticks, and meat and bread are served in a gloomy, shadowy stone room.

For once, the guards do not interfere, standing at a distance with their weapons slung behind their backs.

The prisoners are happy with the chewy, savory pork jerky and half-dried white bread, as if they had everything in the world.

"I survived a year looking forward to this day."

"It's a good thing I'm alive."

"The most pitiful are those who died yesterday. Cough, cough-"

Then.

"Kurukuru... get the fuck out of here."

A level 8 prisoner shouted.

When he thrusted his huge body at them, the prisoners scrambled to their feet and out of the way.

They were afraid of his poison, which hadn't been disinfected by the three sulfur showers they'd undergone during the entry.

"Did you hear? That bastard can't control his plague."

"That's right. Anyone who comes in contact with his saliva, blood, or other bodily fluids gets the plague."

"Look at those spots on his skin. Whether it's poison or plague, it's really nasty."

But their rant didn't go unnoticed by the other prisoner.

"Kurukuru, you stupid bastards. I walked in here on my own two feet, and I'm going to get out one day, I am saying that my Queen will take such action!"

He's been saying this for two years now.

At first, it was a sincere belittling of others, but as time went on, there was a hint of madness in his words.

Now it sounded like some sort of sinister incantation.

Some of the prisoners frowned at his salivating rantings, others were horrified. But they all agreed that they didn't want to be around him.

Soon, there was an empty circle around him in the dining hall.

With a satisfied smile on his face, he sat down and chewed on his pork jerky and white bread.

...But?

Suddenly, he felt someone behind him.

Just one. Only one prisoner hadn't moved from his seat.

It was Vikir.

Sakkuth asked in disbelief.

"Kid, aren't you afraid of my plague?"

"...."

Vikir didn't bother to answer.

Sakkuth would probably faint if he knew that Madame's poison, far more terrifying than the plague, was coursing through the veins of Vikir's body.

dalgeulag- dalkkag-

Vikir finished his meal in silence.

It was a much different meal than the one he would have at the Colosseo Academy.

Then, at the table in front of him, he heard a group of prisoners talking amongst themselves.

" ... is this real?"

"It's real, though the guards have seen it all and it's tattered."

"Wow- you really got that?"

"Hehehe – you can pick up a lot of stuff when you're cleaning out the restroom septic tanks. More good stuff than you think."

It turns out that the prisoner who was cleaning the septic tank had picked up something good.

Assuming it was, at best, a cigarette, a watch, gambling paraphernalia, or cheap drugs, Vikir tried to ignore it.

However, his ears perked up.

"Holy shit. You picked up a 'newspaper'."

A newspaper. The only way to get news of the world here in Nouvelle Vague!

Newspapers are incredibly valuable in Nouvelle Vague.

Common sense dictates that these few pieces of paper must have traveled an incredibly long journey to reach the Nouvelle Vague.

Unless it is brought in by one of the guards on an extremely rare occasions when they go out on the ground, receiving a newspaper on a regular basis is a luxury that can only be dreamed of.

But apart from the guards, there are always prisoners who long for news from the outside world.

Vikir was one of them.

Drat-

Pulling back his chair, Vikir walked over to the conversing prisoners.

"Hey."

Vikir's voice startled the prisoners, who were busy talking amongst themselves.

"Yes, yes!"

They were Level One prisoners, low-level prisoners who could get out of this hellish place three years later.

However, they were so weak and frail that most of them lived for less than a year before dying.

Worst of all, if Vikir, a Level Nine prisoner, were to stir up a ruckus, they would die.

But Vikir didn't raise his voice.

"Newspapers and such will only cause trouble if you have them. Treasure you can't handle is a curse."

"...."

"Why don't you trade it for this?"

Vikir held out a bag of black bread, a prize he'd won not long ago.

The prisoners' eyes widened at the sight of it.

Vikir teased in a low voice.

"I'm sure you've all read the newspaper anyway."

"Oh, I haven't seen it yet... because I'm blind."

"Then why don't you let me read it and then I'll tell you what it says?"

That was a deal not to be refused.

The prisoner frowned, and then pulled from his pocket a finely folded piece of yellow paper.

"It's a little smelly because I picked it out of the shit, hehe-"

Vikir handed over the bread and took the newspaper.

At first glance, the newspaper was not in pristine condition.

Most of it was torn, so the only intact parts were the first and second pages, and even then, only the headlines were recognizable due to smudged or torn text in the middle.

Worst of all, it was dated six months earlier.

'I used to look at newspapers before they were even published.'

Looking at the newspapers that he used to tirelessly create during his time at Coliseo Academy's newspaper department, Ryukeion, and that he used to have access to even before they were published, it was refreshing to see them being treated with such respect (even six months old!).

Parak.

Vikir scrutinized the paper.

[Inside...] ... palace guard, raiding...

-The Usher family... a mysterious attack... heavy damage... authorities have identified one suspect... the victim, Madeline... seriously injured, but not life-threatening...

The [sole] victim of a series of attacks on...

-Don Quixote Family... another mystery... attack... Count Pasamonte... minor injuries... authorities have identified one suspect... believed to be the same...

[Exclusive] Suspected assassin arrested...

-Leviathan Family... Attack on Patriarch Hobbs... Blamed on the recent surge in demonic activity... Mysterious gates and strange dungeons popping up all over the Leviathan Family estate... An empire-wide investigation has been launched... The Night Hounds... A suspicious organization... A citywide scare...

It's a short list, but it gives you an idea.

The first and second pages usually contain the biggest events in society, so here's a glimpse of what's going on on the ground.

'The Usher family, Don Quixote, and the Leviathan family have been attacked, one after the other. One attacker? Who?'

As Vikir scrolled through the article, his attention was drawn to one place.

'... A series of unexplained gates and strange dungeons.'

There were other odd keywords, like the Night Hounds, but the first one caught Vikir's attention.

'The Ten Corpses have begun in earnest.'

The gates of destruction were already showing signs of opening.

No, considering this was already six months old....

'We'd better hurry.'

The time of destruction would be hastened.

Perhaps it was the butterfly effect of Vikir's elimination of the Ten Corpse so far, and the messages he'd left to Cindy Wendy, Isabella, and others before his imprisonment in Nouvelle Vague.

-'I have always seen you during my time at the academy. You are not a villain. That much is certain.'

-'Seeing the reality of the demons that were under my nose just a moment ago, I now know everything for sure. You must live. Why have I only realized this now?'

-'As soon as I get back, I'll show them the evidence and ask for a retrial.'

-'I have orders from my lord to break you out of prison, Vikir, even if it means sinking the ship.'

The strict Banshee Professor, the single-minded Archbishop Mozgus, Lovebad whom he had never met, and even the Baskerville Hound, Countess Isabella.

Given the attitudes of the Morg, Quovadis, Bourgeois, and Baskerville escorts at the end, it was easy to imagine what must have happened between the Seven Families after Vikir's trip to Nouvelle Vague.

'I can see why they would be so rash to open the gates of destruction.'

It's probably a political and strategic decision. They operate with demonic common sense, not human common sense.

...Thud!

Vikir closed the newspaper and washed his hands in the falling water from the ceiling.

'I need more information from the outside world.'

There's no point in searching for a newspaper when you don't know when you'll get one.

There is only one surefire way to get information from the outside world.

'You have to go out there yourself.'

He's already found his core purpose of coming to Nouvelle Vague, Poseidon.

That alone is more than 90% of the way there.

Vikir was starting to get tired of the heavy restraints on his wrists and ankles.

'... There's no need to wear this prison uniform anymore.'

The dawn of the prison break was dawning in earnest.