Revenge of the Iron-Blooded Sword Hound Chapter 394

Revenge of the Iron-Blooded Sword Hound Chapter 394

[Translator – Clara]

[Proofreader – Lucky]

Chapter 394: The Worst Torture (5)

“......?”

His eyes rolled as if he couldn’t understand the noisy gibberish.

Vikir repeated himself.

“It’s about time the Queen saved you. Didn’t you hear? Or are you too dense?”

“I-I heard. I heard it.”

Sakkuth hurriedly responded.

Vikir clicked his tongue, watching him.

“Good, you heard. You fool.”

“You, you... You’re not suggesting I was about to betray the Queen, are you?”

“Shut it, you idiot. The Queen is still working to get you out of here. That’s why I’m here.”

Vikir berated him and left with a poker face.

“The moment the blue orb at the heart of the level ten construction zone explodes is the perfect timing. The plan was to activate it and get you out of here. If you hadn’t been so foolish, things would have gone smoothly.”

“Are you asking me to believe that? You could have heard my usual conversations and made up stories...”

“Don’t want to leave? You’ve been uncooperative since earlier.”

“...That’s not it but...”

“Then shut up and listen.”

Sakkuth closed his mouth, feeling unjust.

Vikir then loosened his collar slightly.

“I’m not telling you to trust me blindly.”

At the same time, Vikir showed him an item he had retrieved from Andromalius’s ring.

A blade with a white bottom, a black middle, and a red top, with spiral patterns.

This was fragments of the Winter Blade, Orwell.

It was a legendary sword that only allowed its wielder to hold its handle, once owned by Winston, the former principal of the Colosseo Academy.

His eyes widened at the sight of it.

“T-that’s the key to Nouvellebag’s main gate...! No way!?”

Vikir nodded quietly.

‘Queen’ who sent Sakkuth here, and ‘Orwell,’ the item she was fighting for.

A being imprisoned deep within Nouvellebag by Orca and Winston during the 47-person incident.

Vikir spoke, combining various keywords in his mind.

“Miss Ouroboros sent me here. To help you.”

“Oh... oh! Oh, Queen! You haven’t abandoned me! You remembered me...!”

“Shut up, fool. The guards might hear.”

Vikir pulled down his hat and raised his collar slightly.

Then his bare face was revealed, shocking him.

As Sakkuth swallowed the empty words, Vikir continued speaking.

“Didn’t I tell you? I had some hopes for you.”

Sakkuth’s mouth opened wide in a moment of realization. He recalled a previous conversation.

‘Escape from Nouvellebag? What nonsense is this...’

“Why do you think escape is impossible?”

“What?”

“Your thoughts don’t go beyond that? You might think you’ve been abandoned, but that’s not the case. It’s because I saw potential in you.”

“?”

“I’ve been watching you for the past two years. You might lack strength and determination, but your stubbornness and initiative appealed to me. Your loyalty is somewhat strong too.”

“Huh? Why is your face covered in dirt? When did that happen?”

Vikir had managed to recreate the burnt marks on his face with the hot earth he had grabbed from the floor. The slight differences in the scars were masked by dirt, sulfur powder, and bloodstains.

The junior guards clustered around Garam, chattering excitedly for a while.

Then...

“...!”

The junior guards around Vikir suddenly cleared a path, and someone approached.

It was Kirko.

“...Um.”

Kirko slowly approached and stood in front of Vikir. Then, in a small voice, she asked, “Are you okay?”

“...”

“Your face... seems pretty badly injured...”

She hesitated, unable to take her eyes off Vikir’s face.

“It’s fine. Leave it, and it’ll heal.”

It was true. With Basilisk’s power, a burn like this would regenerate in an instant.

But Kirko, unaware of this fact, didn’t leave Vikir’s side.

“Just a moment.”

“....?”

Before Vikir could protest, Kirko took something out of her front pocket.

It was burn ointment.

“...It must’ve hurt.”

Kirko muttered absentmindedly. Then, without waiting for a response, she started applying the burn ointment to Vikir’s face, keeping her mouth shut.

Considering her usual cold and aloof demeanor, it was a surprisingly unexpected scene, leaving the junior guards around them astonished.

Meanwhile, Vikir was about to refuse the help but decided against it. There were more pressing matters at hand.

Vikir glanced over to see Sakkuth being dragged away by senior guards, presumably to solitary confinement.

“Listen up! You’re going to solitary for three months!”

“Solitary won’t be the end! After solitary, we’ll work you like a dog!”

“After that, you’ll be executed! Got it!?”

“I swear on my name! You’ll end up on the gallows for sure!”

The senior guards couldn’t hide their anger at Sakkuth’s foolish riot.

Justice always prevails. It was the natural consequence.

‘...Can’t hold out for long.’

Vikir grimaced in thought. He had never intended to let Sakkuth off lightly, not since he knew he was the culprit behind the “Red death” that had ravaged Ballaks and other tribal people. Even if Sakkuth endured torture and solitary confinement, Vikir had already planned the next steps. It didn’t matter.

He heard the mocking laughter of Decarabia from within his chest.

[Hehehe – Trying to calm the rebel prisoner with the futile hope of escape. Lies of the lowest order. Walking step by step towards death without even realizing you’re being deceived. Isn’t this the cruelest torture? Who’s the demon and who’s the demon hunter, I wonder.]

“Shut up.”

Vikir pretended to be annoyed and thumped his chest with his fist.

“Anyway, this should end the situation.”

The riot among the Level 8 inmates.

This recent disturbance, which could have escalated into a major disaster, was swiftly resolved thanks to the remarkable performance of a junior guard.

And then...

“Hey, guard.”

Vikir heard Captain Bastille, the chief supervisor of this operation, calling him from behind.

“You did well. Really well. I never knew I had such a capable subordinate under me. Why didn’t I recognize this talent before?”

As Captain Bastille praised him, patting his shoulder, Vikir could anticipate what would happen next from his words.

It was time for rewards and recognition.

[Translator – Clara]

[Proofreader – Lucky]