Revenge of the Iron-blooded Sword Hound

Revenge of the Iron-Blooded Sword Hound Chapter 413

Chapter 413: End Game (5)

He had a deep furrow, typically etched on the faces of seasoned veterans who have crossed countless harsh lines.

Wrinkles cut deep beneath fiercely slanting eyebrows, a wild beard, thick and abundant eyebrows that nearly covered his cold, sunken eyes, a flat nose, and a square jaw.

Despite his uniform being soaked, it had sharp creases like a knife, the buttons fastened to his neck, and a lion’s mane-like black fur coat draped over his broad chest and square shoulders.

Except for the slightly crooked belt buckle, his attire was impeccable.

He was taller than anyone around him, and at the end of the club hanging from his waist were pointed lead weights.

‘Orca Montreal Javert’. Warden of Nouvellebag.

For nearly a hundred years in Nouvellebag, during which several generations on the surface had changed, he remained the unchanging symbol of Nouvellebag.

Chik-

As he brought the end of his cigar to the flames rising from the ground, he lazily scanned his surroundings.

Thick cigarette smoke billowed out from between his salt-cracked lips.

“What is this situation?”

He took something out from his coat.

A pocket watch, blackened and shriveled from burning.

It seemed to be made by BDISSEM.

“I had suspected something had happened to BDISSEM. But even so….”

At that moment.

“Oh! Orca! I have lived until now to take revenge on you! Prepare yourself!”

A thunderous roar erupted from behind.

It was Mammoth Tusk, a Level Nine prisoner.

The king of bandits who once ruled an entire mountain range on the surface.

He was such a notorious villain of the previous generation that he had been sentenced to over 2,800 consecutive life sentences.

He charged with immense force.

His powerful shoulders sent captains and lieutenant-level guards flying as he barreled into Warden Orca’s back.

Thud! Crack!

The sound of tough, hard leather tearing and the crunching of the solid things within echoed in quick succession.

The result was.

“Arghhhh!?”

A resounding defeat for Mammoth Tusk.

His shattered shoulder bone pierced through his skin.

Mammoth Tusk lay sprawled on the ground, rolling in agony.

In contrast, Warden Orca stood unmoved, still in his place.

Then.

“…What is this.”

He raised one hand high.

The spiked club was raised high along Warden Orca’s arm.

Then, as if a black thunderbolt had struck, it slammed into the ground.

“What a mess this is!”

A deafening explosion shook the earth to its core.

Mammoth Tusk’s head exploded, and the epicenter created a massive seismic wave that tore and twisted the surrounding terrain.

Warden Orca, who had instantly killed a Level Nine prisoner, began to show his fury in earnest.

Just the frown on his face caused the surrounding air to crackle and split.

“Hehehe- as expected of Orca. It makes the hunt worthwhile.”

“That old man won’t die, will he?”

“But he’s gotten a lot weaker compared to before. He’s definitely aged.”

“Well, Mammoth Tusk was always loud, but he was a weakling, wasn’t he?”

Level Nine prisoners started to close in, laughing, but Warden Orca showed no sign of intimidation.

“Get lost, trash.”

At the same time, his club began to roar fiercely.

The two white spots on the end of the black club head swung like the head of a killer whale.

BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM!

Just swinging his club haphazardly burst dozens of heads.

Fragments of shattered skulls, brains, and blood splattered in all directions.

Warden Orca began to beat and kill the charging Level Nine prisoners with terrifying momentum.

Each swing of his arm plastered the walls and floor with blood, and with each move, the crowd was split in half.

BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!

Even the formidable monsters of Level Nine dared not stand before Warden Orca’s club.

By the time the spikes and chains at the end of the club were soaked with human grease and blood, obscuring their original color,

“So, where are D’Ordume and Souaré? They should have arrived first?”

Warden Orca asked.

Head Captain Bastille, whose face bore the scars of a wolf’s claw, bowed and replied.

“Forgive me… they’re over there.”

At those words, Warden Orca’s thick eyebrows twitched.

He turned his head to see two figures lying on a sloping path leading downwards.

D’Ordume, with his head buried in the ground, and Souaré, with her head against the wall, both unconscious.

Seeing the state of his subordinates, Orca sighed.

“Get up.”

However, both guards remained motionless, their eyes rolled back.

A vein popped on Orca’s forehead.

“…Get. The. fuck. up.”

He said in an even softer voice.

But perhaps because of the weight carried in his tone, it was even more effective than his previous words.

“Gasp!?”

“Ah!?”

D’Ordume and Souaré immediately snapped back to consciousness at Orca’s command.

They hurriedly stood at attention and saluted.

“Sir! We greet you, Warden.”

“Cut the salutes. Who made you look like that… No, never mind. Where did that bastard go?”

“He, he went down below!”

Orca sighed once more.

“I’ll handle things here on my own. You two, go after him and settle the score.”

“……”

“Anyone who can’t even handle a mere level 9 prisoner cannot become the next warden. You understand, right?”

Facing Orca’s chilling gaze, D’Ordume and Souaré flinched.

At the same time—

Bang!

The backs of their uniforms burst open, revealing their raw, red skin.

Orca had slapped their backs with his palms to encourage them.

“Make sure to settle the score.”

Orca’s plan was clear.

The one who had embarrassed the head guards, or rather, tarnished the prestige of the entire Nouvellebag in front of everyone.

He intended to pin all the blame for the riot on that person and execute him.

* * *

Nouvellebag Lv.10. The labor yard on the 10th underground floor.

Even deeper and harsher than Level Nine.

Vikir headed for the work pit at the very bottom of Level Ten.

A place where lava flowed, and flames carried by fumes rippled through the air.

Hot spring water bursting from various spots boiled, evaporating into steam before it hit the ground.

As expected, an unidentified orb enveloped in blue flames sat alone in the middle of the pit.

Poseidon. The ultimate goal that made Vikir descend directly to Nouvellebag.

Aiyen asked.

“…Do we need to destroy this?”

“Something like that. Just hit it with your aura.”

Vikir demonstrated after speaking.

Baskerville 8th Style. Black Sun.

Vikir’s most powerful attack exploded towards Poseidon.

Boom!

Amazingly, Poseidon did not break.

Instead, it absorbed all of the mana, aura, and shockwaves Vikir sent its way.

It might have been just an impression, but the orb seemed to have swollen a bit more.

The surrounding blue flames also grew fiercer.

Aiyen nodded as well.

“Alright. Let me give it a try too.”

She took a bow and arrow she had taken from a guard.

Beside her, Bakira was also preparing to shoot flames from his mouth.

At that moment.

“Stop, you scoundrels!”

“What the fuck are you plotting!”

Voices from behind interrupted Vikir and Aiyen.

It was D’Ordume and Souaré. The two had regained their senses and were now hot on their trail.

Aiyen’s expression immediately darkened.

“I spared your lives and this is how you repay me, by coming back?”

“Hohoho- You got lucky with a sneak attack and now you’re acting all high and mighty.”

Souaré matched Aiyen’s intensity.

D’Ordume, too, was now glaring at Vikir with a tense posture, unlike before.

“To think you were a warrior who had reached the Swordmaster realm.”

“……”

“But I am not afraid. As long as I remain vigilant, I will not be defeated.”

However, Vikir was calmly analyzing the situation.

‘These guys, who were already beaten once, have chased us down. And they don’t seem afraid. That means…?’

Having concluded his thoughts, Vikir immediately shouted.

“Stand back!”

Aiyen halted her attack on Souaré and quickly stepped back.

Then—

Splat! Sploosh!

Sticky globs of slime fell where Vikir and Aiyen had just been standing.

Gurgle… Gurgle… Gurgle… Gurgle…

A massive column of slime began to flow in front of Vikir.

This semi-transparent green slime grew larger and larger, eventually extending numerous tentacles behind D’Ordume and Souaré.

It looked as if it was protecting them.

“…As I thought. They had something up their sleeve.”

Vikir swallowed hard.

His judgment to exclude this from the escape plan, thinking it lacked intelligence and awareness, had been a premature mistake.

Lieutenant Colonel Flubber.

This strange substance, whose status as a living being was uncertain, making its combat capabilities impossible to predict, had entered the fray.