Chapter 474: Knowing the Fate of My Father (1)

Chapter 474: Knowing the Fate of My Father (1)

A severed head is terrible.

[Didn't I tell you from the beginning that your efforts are in vain?]

"...."

[It is impossible to kill me at this time, give up, Demon Hunter].

Flauros continued to click his tongue.

Truth or lies. To know and be deceived, or to pretend not to know and charge ahead.

Camus, standing beside Vikir, gritted her teeth.

"Hey, is what he's saying true? Does his death really open the gates of destruction or something?"

The answer came from two sources.

Seere, trembling on Camus's shoulder, and Dekarabia, clinging to Vikir's chest.

[Flauros is a being of the power of deception, so we don't know if the words are true or not].

[... But I'd say it's likely, he's cunning].

In other words, even fellow demons can't tell if Flauros' words are false or true.

Faced with a choice, a crossroads, Vikir hesitated.

Should he let Flauros go, or should he kill him, knowing that it would open the Gate of Destruction?

Even now, Flauros was escaping slowly, his head like water vapor.

Sweat dripped from his face like molten lead.

Vikir clenched his teeth so hard they might break.

... Just then.

"Do what you want."

A heavy voice came from behind Vikir's back.

Hugo. He cast a dark shadow over Vikir's back.

"Son."

He called to Vikir.

Vikir didn't turn.

But Hugo continued.

"A father is responsible for his children, even if they make the wrong choices."

Vikir thought the words were very refreshing.

When he finished, Hugo muttered to himself, 'It's funny to say this, but since when did I become a father?'

Then.

gigigig-

There was the sound of feet scraping the ground.

"Now, wait!"

Vikir whirled around, but it was too late.

...Flash!

Hugo swung his sword.

A powerful strike flew out and struck the ground.

It was where the head of Flauros, who was almost ready to flee, was.

[Kkeuaaaaagh!]

A tearing scream rang out.

A merciless blow severed the demon's last hold.

Vikir's mouth hung half open as he watched Flauros' head shatter into pieces.

Demons kill. Vikir would probably have made the same choice, given a little more time.

But Vikir had been granted a suspension of disbelief for a choice that carried great responsibility.

By the hand of Hugo, a man he had never considered a father.

It was as if he had unintentionally made a fool of himself.

"...."

"...."

Vikir and Hugo's gazes meet.

A gap where complex thoughts flow.

Everyone gathered in that ethereal atmosphere was speechless.

...Just then.

Vikir.

His expression was as calm as ever.

'...Now I know why I regressed.'

Perhaps it was to prevent a situation like this.

Chaang-

Vikir drew his sword.

He took another step toward the Gate of Destruction that was opening its mouth at Tochka.

To face the great firestorm that was about to burst forth.

And then.

ku-leuleuleuleug!

A huge pillar of fire erupted.

A supernatural disaster on a scale as terrifying as the eruption of the Nouvelle Vague volcano.

Like a tongue protruding from its mouth, the Gate of Destruction unleashed its first blast of crimson flames, attempting to lick up anything in its path.

And Vikir set his whole body on fire to cut off its tongue.

All of this was what he had planned from the moment he first opened his eyes in his cradle.

...kuleuleug!

Squeezing every last bit of mana from his body, Vikir formed a Black Sun at the tip of his sword.

The eight fiercely spinning teeth took on the shape of a sphere and stood at the Gate of Destruction.

But it was so small and fragile that it looked like a fire moth rushing toward a torch.

'Still, I can't give up.'

Vikir gritted his teeth and unleashed a blast of mana in his body.

A blow that gathers all the strength from the time when he strangled a poisonous snake in his cradle.

Vikir's charge, blessed by Dolores, met the flames of the Gate of Destruction.

jilkkeun-

Vikir closed his eyes, imagining his body soon to be consumed by the flames.

....

...But nothing happened.

No shock, not even a hint of heat.

"?"

Vikir opened his eyes, puzzled by the lack of change.

And there it was, an incredible sight.

The Gate of Destruction. A feast of bursting hellfire. A wind-lit Tochka.

Something stuck in the middle of it all.

Black teeth.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.

It was holding back the flames from the gates of hell.

"No, not eight, but...."

Vikir fumbled for the number of teeth.

It had one more than eight.

Nine.

The ninth tooth was biting ferociously at the flames.

Nine teeth resisting destruction. Baskerville 9th Form.

The enemies that exploded with terrifying momentum and the black aura prevented the apocalypse from coming to Tochka.

It was certainly something Vikir had seen before.

The Grave of Swords. The words of a once noble man who had crossed the threshold of death.

Death Knight. And the Nine Teeth. Baskerville, the Supreme.

A being who has crossed the line between life and death.

An undead whose death has been postponed even though he has already died once.

'...Since when did I become a father?'

Hugo.

Hugo Les Baskerville.

The patriarch of the Baskerville family, the Iron Blood Swordman Family, was there.