The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound

Chapter 48: The Husband Hunt (3)

Chapter 48: The Husband Hunt (3)

Vikir thought.

"She looks familiar.

The woman before him must have seen him before.

... But she didn't have long to think about it.

Pfft.

The next moment, the warrior's long legs flew out and kicked Vikir in the stomach.

A tingling sensation down his spine, an unbelievable weight.

There was no way she could have pulled off such a move without using her aura.

Vikir somersaulted a couple of times in the air before landing on his feet.

"Mastery.

The barbarian warrior before him was no ordinary bet.

With the charcoal black paint on her face, it was impossible to make out her features, but she looked to be in her late teens, early twenties at least.

It would be difficult to fight her while hiding her skills.

Vikir lowered his stance and was about to prepare to fight.

The female warrior's mouth opened.

"You said we'd see each other again, didn't you?"

She spoke in broken Imperial.

Vikir suddenly remembered where he had seen this barbarian warrior before.

The girl who had once been kept in a cage like a beast during a raid on an illegal slave auction in Underdog City.

She was destined to be turned into flesh by perverted nobles.

Vikir had helped her escape by turning the auction house upside down and opening the cage door.

He even gave her a potion.

"You return the favor."

The barbarian girl shook her head at Vikir's scowl.

"Me. A slave, avenging my capture. Morg. Nothing to do with you."

Apparently, House Morg had something to do with this barbarian girl's captivity by the slavers.

Not surprising, since the Morg have been at odds with the barbarians over the development of their ruby mines.

Perhaps this latest raid was in retaliation for the barbarian girl's capture by the slavers and her subsequent treatment.

Vikir narrowed his eyes.

"That said, she's a pretty high ranking girl.

And then. The barbarian girl jerked her chin at the wolf in the distance.

The wolf had a lassoed camel tied around its waist.

"For what you've done. We pay him back. We. The woman. The next leader. We take them."

Balak and Morg faced off. The girl swung her bow, knocking the wolves around her back.

The signal to retreat.

All of Balak's warriors began to fall back in unison. As if their purpose was over with the capture of the camouflage.

The barbarian girl looked slightly troubled, then turned to Vikir.

"If you want your girl back, follow me."

"...Do you speak Imperial?"

Vikir continued to speak to her, hoping to gather some more clues, to buy a little time.

But that was it.

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, the barbarian girl turned and disappeared into the jungle.

Vikir was about to give chase.

Beep, beep, beep.

It was impossible because of the countless showers of arrows falling down.

'Should I reveal my ...power?

If he unleashed all of his hidden power, he might be able to break through that rain of arrows.

But.

"Camo!"

That was impossible, as Adolf, leading his soldiers, charged into the battlefield.

Vikir took a few steps back to avoid the arrows.

With so many eyes on him, he couldn't afford to show his strength.

"Give me my nephew!"

Enraged, Adolf cast a great spell, turning the earth upside down.

But Balak's warriors were fast and skilled.

The vanguard easily sidestepped Adolf's magic and disappeared over the water, while the laggards scattered in countless directions to confuse the pursuit.

In the end, Balak's raiders fled into the jungle, most of them, leaving only a few casualties behind.

"This, this nonsense...!"

Adolf stood dumbfounded.

So did the mages who had brought reinforcements.

It took less than three minutes for the Morgans to respond to the emergency signal announcing the invasion, but the Balak assault was so methodical and swift that it would have been all over in that time.

The raiders were well organized and caught the inexperienced camo off guard.

Slaves and crops would have been one thing, but the kidnapping of the next head of the family was a big deal.

"How can this be good!"

Adolf stamped his foot as he watched the sun set over the water.

The waters of the Red and Black Mountains were terrifying, but they became even more dangerous after dark.

Entering the waters at night was suicide, and even the wizards of Morgoth were not easily pursued.

One wrong move could mean annihilation.

... Just then.

"We can still catch up."

Vikir stepped forward.

He gazed into the depths of the water.

"I've been in there when I was a kid."

A lie, of course. He'd only been in there once, briefly, when he was eight years old.

But Vikir had searched, scouted, and slaughtered countless times before his return, and he knew most of the geography underwater.

Meanwhile, the wizards of Morg were dumbfounded by Vikir's words.

One wizard raised his eyebrows and spoke up.

"Entering the Black Mountains with a dark enemy is suicide...."

But he didn't finish his sentence.

"Those who won't go, go. I will not trouble you later."

Morg Adolf, his eyes bloodshot, stood before Vikir.

He had recognized Vikir's extraordinary abilities.

With that, Adolph bent down at the waist to be eye level with Vikir.

...Boom!

Adolf squeezed Vikir's hand with both of his hands, and he said desperately.

"Please, I beg you. Help me save my niece."

Vikir nodded.

The raiders from earlier had obviously thrown their nooses at him, and it was the camel who had returned the favor.

A debt must be paid, and without another word, Vikir turned and walked into the tangled jungle of roots.

"Maybe this is my chance to get out from under Hugo's control.

They say a crisis is an opportunity, and Vikir thought he might be able to use this to his advantage.

Dusk fell.

The earth spider was losing.

* * *

The watery terrain between the enemy and the Black Mountains is littered with all manner of fiends, poisonous plants, and traps.

Bone-sucking mosquitoes, venomous thorns, spiders that walk without making a sound, narrow, deep cliffs between rocks hidden by fallen leaves.

A normal person wouldn't be able to survive even a few hours in these waters, and the situation isn't much different for beings who have reached the pinnacle of nothingness.

What's more, the nights are so deep and dark that even barbarians are reluctant to pass through them.

All sorts of dangerous things are awakened from their daytime slumber.

So it's no wonder that even the bravest of Morg's warriors wouldn't dare venture into the murky waters.

...But.

In the jungle, among all these potential killers, there was a being who seemed to be weaving in and out of them with incredible speed.

Vikir. Vikir van Baskerville.

He burned blades of grass to scare away poisonous insects, crossed cliffs hidden beneath dirt and fallen leaves, and rubbed animal feces on his clothes to hide his scent and creep.

All in a series of extremely skillful movements.

The Morg and Baskervilles who followed could only hold their tongues.

"Are all ... Baskerville boys like that?"

"Of course not, you're a special case."

Staffordshire shrugged at Adolph's quizzical look.

But Vikir, who is actually leading the way, is nonchalant.

"It was a universal tracking technique in the Age of Destruction.

Swordsmen of that era weren't just good at swordfighting.

There was nothing they couldn't do: foraging, scouting, searching, hiding, ambushing, assassinating, pharmaceutical, healing, and cooking.

It was a time of survival.

SPOT!

Vikir halved a rotting log in his path and stepped through it.

The aura of the Gradient, vibrating and spinning at lightning speed at the tip of his blade, sliced through everything in an instant.

Everyone was truly in awe of Vikir's ability to find and remove obstacles, both large and small, single-handedly.

Especially the Baskervilles' triplets, who followed closely behind him.

"Cool."

"Cool."

"Delicious."

The third one stuttered a bit after his finger was cut off and reattached, but they were all on the same page.

Then.

...Stop!

Vikir, who had been walking ahead, halted.

Looking at the bare footprints in the damp mud, Vikir checked the direction of the wind, then ducked low and circled behind a bush.

To hide his scent.

The warriors of Morg and Baskerville followed Vikir back behind the bushes.

Then they saw a faint glimmer of light.

Balak's hunters were gathered around a small campfire.

Rustle – ding – ding – ding

In the forest at night, even the smallest sounds of human movement can be as loud as thunder.

Furthermore, the Balak hunters had scattered dry leaves and sticks around their makeshift campsite.

They had scattered them around their makeshift camp so that they would be heard.

Vikir pondered for a moment how to muffle the sound as they approached.

Then.

"...Silence."

Adolph chanted the words with a terse syllable.

Instantly, a translucent aura enveloped everyone's feet.

Then, to my surprise, there was no sound as they walked.

This is magic, and Adolf's magic specializes in support.

Vikir had once been an assassin himself, and he knew what a ridiculously deceptive perk it was to be silent when approaching a target.

Soon, the pursuers were close to their target.

"?? ?????? ?? ????"

"????? ?? ???? ?????? ???? ??? ??."

"??? ???? ???? ????? ???? ???"

The hunters rested, unaware that they had become the hunted.

Vikir picked out his targets by the faint light of the remaining fire.

Up ahead, he saw the barbarian girl who had parried his sword and kicked him earlier.

She was barking out orders as if she were the leader of the group.

The barbarian man who had shot the tranquilizer needle and thrown the lasso earlier grumbles as he follows her instructions.

And so on and so forth, until, in the center of the gathering of Balak's barbarian warriors, the final target was located.

Morg Camu.

She could be seen kneeling, naked.

Her hands and feet are tied to stakes driven into the ground behind her, and a collar is around her neck.

The good news is that there are no signs of beatings or other abuse.

The camel was cursing something at the barbarians and didn't seem particularly fazed.

Vikir let out a small sigh.

"No wonder he's naked every time I see him.

Just then.

...Jaw!

Someone touched Vikir's shoulder.

He turned to see Morg Adolf standing there.

Immediately, he spoke, his complexion and voice hardened.

"I will never forget this favor, nephew."

The title ... seemed a little odd, but now was not the time to point it out.

No 2 of the Mado Sect.

It looks like Mado Star Adolph is about to reveal his true power.