Chapter 355

Chapter 355

[Translator – Clara]

[Proofreader – Lucky]

Chapter 355: Outside the Tower (5)

Is the demonic unicorn truly dead?

Tsu tsu tsu tsu tsu tsu tsu tsu tsu......

The colossal demon began to slowly dissipate.

Starting from the broken horn to the tip of its hooves turning into ashes, the sight conveyed to everyone that there was an end to this long nightmare.

The demise of the Fifth Corpse. It was the moment when the cornerstone of sin was utterly obliterated.

“...It’s, it’s over!”

“The demon is dead!”

“The ugly ahh horse is crumbling!”

Excited cheers erupted from all around.

Parents who thought they had lost their children, children who thought they would never see their parents again, disciples who had lost and found their revered masters, and disciples returning to the embrace of their respected mentors.

All were overcome with emotion, tears of joy streaming down their faces as they cheered together.

All eyes turned towards the center of the area where the demon crumbled away.

There stood the seven knightly orders of Baskerville.

And among them stood the six counts and young patriarch of Baskerville..

Had it not been for them, the crowds gathered at the Colosseo Academy would have suffered much greater losses.

“Thank you! Thank you, Baskerville Clan! If it weren’t for you...”

“I shall never forget this kindness for the rest of my days!”

“B-But why are the knights of Baskerville here?”

“Wasn’t the Ironblooded clan extremely secretive?”

“I saw that boy summoning the knights! I witnessed him blowing the whistle!”

The crowd murmured with excitement.

Gradually, the attention of the audience shifted to one place.

The dragon that emerged from the Abyss tree.

The swordmaster who erected a pillar of aura reaching the heavens.

Once a first year at the Colosseo Academy.

...but now, he was the entity who had summoned all the hounds of the Ironblooded Sword Clan to this place.

Vikir. Vikir van Baskerville!

Vikir unleashed the hidden forces he had harbored until now without restraint.

And before him, seven hounds politely bowing.

“We have fulfilled your command.”

Osiris, the Young patriarch of the Baskerville Clan,

Isabella le Baskerville, the commander of the Doberman Knights;

German le Baskerville, the commander of the Shepherd Knights;

Metzgerhund le Baskerville, the commander of the Rottweiler Knights;

Cu-Chulainn le Baskerville, the commander of the Wolfhound Knights;

Boston Terrier le Baskerville, the commander of the Pit Bull Knights;

and Great Dane le Baskerville, the commander of the Mastiff Knights.

.

All bowed their head.

Everyone witnessing this was collectively shocked.

It wasn’t just any other family; it was the Baskerville Clan.

Those gathered here represented the entirety of Baskerville’s might. Even the next lord, Osiris, was present.ViiSit no(v)3lb!n(.)com for new novels

Their bowing heads towards an unknown boy went beyond shock, bordering on the surreal.

Tudor, Sancho, Figgy, and Bianca approached Vikir’s side.

“Alright, alright, journalists~ Take your turn! Our Vikir is a bit tired right now! Yes, yes, we know meeting the hero of the century is exciting, but~”

“Vikir. Is your body alright? You seemed to be radiating aura earlier, do you need medicine or potion?”

“Isn’t the number of interviews a bit too much? Shouldn’t we prioritize rest first...?”

“Ugh, where did all these journalists come from? They were nowhere to be seen during the battle. Hey, should we tell our dad to clear the crowd a bit?”

Across countless conversations, reverence was shown to the friend who had completed the seemingly impossible task that everyone thought was impossible.

It was evident in the attitudes of his friends.

......However.

Vikir’s response to his friends’ pure and boundless kindness was short.

“Get lost.”

At that, his friends momentarily froze.

Tudor, Sancho, Figgy, and Bianca chuckled as if they misheard.

“Huh? Vikir, who are you talking to?”

“Who dares to disturb Vikir?”

“Haa! Who’s there! Who dares bother Vikir!”

“Let’s talk to the professors first and get rid of the journalists...”

At this point, Vikir spoke again, sharply and clearly.

“I said, get lost. Y’all are trash.”

At this, Tudor, Sancho, Figgy, and Bianca finally realized.

They saw the hostility in Vikir’s eyes directed towards them.

“Hey, hey... What’s gotten into you? Why the sudden change...?”

“Um. Do you think we’re clinging to your honor? Misunderstanding. We never thought...”

“Y-Yeah, Vikir! We’re just genuinely concerned for you...”

“Have you lost your mind? Why are you suddenly like this?”

Their friends’ reactions, clearly caught off guard by Vikir’s unexpected attitude.

But Vikir cut them off.

“I’ve never befriended weaklings like you. Know your place and stop whining.”

Period.

That line severed all ties, connections, and relationships up until that moment.

Shock. Utter shock. Tudor, Sancho, Figgy, and Bianca sat frozen, mouths agape.

Tudor, the first to regain his senses, stuttered with a crestfallen expression.

“Why? Why, Vikir?”

But Tudor couldn’t finish his sentence.

Vikir pushed Tudor’s chest and walked towards the center of the crowd.

Tudor, Sancho, Figgy, and Bianca felt an insurmountable barrier in Vikir’s gaze, looking down on them like insects.

A clear, unmistakable line drawn. A distance that could never be bridged.

Tudor, Sancho, Figgy, and Bianca, utterly bewildered and crouched on the ground.

Those frozen in place included Camus, Dolores, Sinclaire, and everyone else who had been saved by Vikir inside the tower.

Vikir drew a line and cast them aside, all those he had met and befriended at the Colosseum Academy.

No, all those he had formed relationships with until now.

And facing the throng of journalists, he said.

“My work is done.”

The unexpectedness of Vikir’s words left most except those at the front row struggling to comprehend. As journalists at the back furrowed their brows and strained to hear, Vikir, instead of answering, retrieved something from his chest. And...!

Everyone who saw the items Vikir pulled out from his chest immediately recoiled, stepping back in shock. A crimson blade. An inverted pentagram necklace. And a plague doctor’s mask. The symbolism behind these artifacts was all too clear. Facing the momentarily silenced audience, Vikir spoke with a calm yet unmistakable voice.

“I am Night hound”

[Translator – Clara]

[Proofreader – Lucky]