Revenge of the Iron-blooded Sword Hound

Revenge of the Iron-Blooded Sword Hound Chapter 428

Chapter 428: Night Walkers (4)

Sinclaire.

Among the 20th batch of Colosseo Academy, Sinclaire was the exemplary student boasting the most outstanding talent and grades, second only to Vikir.

Originally, in the past life, she had vanished from everyone’s sight after graduating from the Colosseo Academy. But now, she appeared before her peers.

“Step back!”

Sinclaire shouted in a sharp voice at Bianca, who was holding Tudor.

Simultaneously.

Crack! Crackle!

The ground tore apart on a massive scale, and the yellow-gold vein beneath it was entirely lifted.

A whole layer of the earth broke off and floated into the air.

Countless gold nuggets melted in the scorching magical field and were newly reshaped.

Before long, an enormous number of golden hands appeared behind Sinclaire.

One thousand hands.

Each one glowing with a resplendent golden light.

Behind her, a large mana wheel rotated, emitting a halo.

The hat on Sinclaire’s head began to exert its full power.

Nicknamed the “Wealthy Hat,” it was a mystical artifact that increased the amount of mana based on the amount of gold owned.

This artifact truly shone, reflecting Sinclaire’s overwhelming wealth as the official head of the Bourgeois Clan.

Moreover, Sinclaire had reached a high stat level within the Abyss Tree..

Because of this, she was able to double-cast large-scale earth and gold elemental magic.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Numerous golden fists rained down, temporarily halting the invincible cavalry of the Donquixote Clan.

Horses fell, and knights rolled on the ground.

The tightening encirclement momentarily loosened.

Of course, Bianca, who had crossed countless life-and-death situations, wouldn’t miss such an opportunity.

Whoosh—

Bianca moved immediately,

With seamless movement, she picked up Tudor and soared upwards.

As Bianca and Tudor broke through the encirclement and retreated, Sinclaire also flew through the air to cover them.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The spears flying towards Bianca were deflected by golden fists.

Bianca, running silently, finally turned her head towards Sinclaire.

“…What about Bourgeios?”

“I left it to Uncle Damien. It’s shameless to say this now, but… I was worried about you all.”

Sinclaire spoke in a small, creeping voice, lowering her head.

To be blunt, Sinclaire and Bianca had been ignoring each other.

Sinclaire originally planned to graduate from the academy with excellent grades, prove her skills, and then compete with her cousin Juliet for the position of head of the Bourgeois Clan.

However, after Juliet died and Sinclaire found herself increasingly drawn to Vikir, a fellow student, she began to lose her way.

Struggling with inner turmoil, she decided to drop out of the Colosseo Academy to sort out her thoughts and make a firm decision about her future.

She also tried to cut ties with other friends who stirred her emotions.

One day, without a word, she vanished, disappearing from everyone’s sight.

But fate had other plans.

Sinclaire found herself trapped within Abyss tree, and in the process, she began to reflect on her inner self.

The slaughter, the filth, the betrayal, she saw human’s worst qualities.

But, during the mission where only one could survive and descend to the next level.

Amidst such extreme trials,

“If it comes to this, I think it’s right to let the person with the highest chance of survival go. Sinclaire, you’re the genius among us. You should go.”

“…Hmph. You know you’ve been treating me completely unfairly lately, right? Reflect on that, seriously. Where else would you find such good friends?”

Her friends, whom she had been ready to turn her back on, supported and sacrificed for her.

They didn’t ask questions or raise doubts; they simply trusted her completely.

This made her ashamed of herself, as she had calculated that staying away from her friends would be more advantageous.

…And the same went for ‘the one’ she had harbored feelings for in her heart.

“Decide for yourself. What to see, what to hear, and what to believe.”

Vikir said this right before being crushed by the fist of the demonic dragon.

It was the same thing he had said when killing her father, or Belial..

After dropping out of the academy and becoming the head of the Bourgeois Clan, Sinclaire pondered for a long time.

Was this really the life she had pursued?

Was the current situation truly what she had always wanted and longed for?

[At this point, it wouldn’t be bad to weed out unnecessary ties. The play ends now.]

Her only Clan, her father Bartholomeo, whom she had wanted to be recognized and loved by, had long fallen into the role of a demon’s puppet.

Realizing this made the goal of becoming the head of the Bourgeois Clan meaningless.

So were all her beliefs and hard work for nothing?

And what should she believe in and pursue from now on?

After a long period of contemplation, she finally found the answer with her keen mind.

And now, Sinclaire stood here to adhere to her answer.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been thinking wrongly all this time. P-Please take me back as your friend.”

Sinclaire said, holding off the invincible cavalry of the Donquixote Clan.

Her voice trembled, unlike the solid golden barrier standing firm.

Her heartfelt apology reached Bianca, who was requesting Dolores to heal Tudor.

“….”

Bianca turned to look at Sinclaire.

A trickle of blood even flowed from Sinclaire’s lips, indicating the immense strain on her body.

“If you can forgive me, I’ll do anything…”

But she couldn’t finish her sentence.

“Argh! How could I not forgive you in this situation!?”

Bianca quickly ran and grabbed Sinclaire by the back of her neck, pulling her back.

…Boom! Thud-thud-thud-

As Sinclaire dangled from Bianca’s grip, the golden wall collapsed, and the invincible cavalry charged in.

The fact that she had managed to hold off those monsters capable of tearing apart a landslide, even for a few seconds was an incredible feat in itself.

Whizz-

Several spears flew toward Sinclaire, but Bianca dodged them while holding Sinclaire at her waist.

The spears sliced through a few strands of Bianca’s long hair as they flew by.

Running swiftly over a protruding rock, Bianca said to Sinclaire hanging at her waist,

“You fool, We were always friends, we never stopped being friends..”

“Bianca…”

Tears welled up in Sinclaire’s eyes.

They had been close friends, sharing the same room since their first year as freshmen.

But eventually, they had drifted apart due to Sinclaire’s rigid ideology.

Hiding her Clan background and trying to cut off all contact after graduation must have felt like a great betrayal to Bianca.

But now, the situation called for a much greater purpose.

THAAK!

The two heroines held hands.

Their reunited hands clasped even more firmly than before.

“Sorry for coming late.”

“…”

“Sorry for dropping out of the academy without a word.”

“…”

“Sorry for deliberately ignoring your greetings and avoiding you to cut off our bond.”

“…”

“Sorry for hiding that I was from the Bourgeois Clan.”

“…”

“And for what happened in Abyss tree…”

“Ugh! Enough already! I get it, everything’s forgiven! I can’t even respond because I’m out of breath!”

Bianca shouted, forgetting to maintain her composed expression.

Both Sinclaire and Bianca had tears and snot streaming down their faces.

Just then,

The invincible cavalry that was pursuing them stopped….

“You bastards! How dare you mess with my friends!”

“Unforgivable!”

“We’ll pay you back twice over!”

Sancho and Figgy, along with Tudor who had recovered thanks to Dolores’ healing, joined the fray.

“Bianca!”

“Tudor!”

Tudor and Bianca joined hands and leaped, each delivering a powerful counterattack to the knights pursuing them.

“Hey— The Wealth of the night has arrived!”

[TL/N: Cindiwendy will be called Financier of the night going forward.]

“Wouldn’t ‘Golden Queen of the Night’ be a better title?”

Sancho and Figgy grinned at Sinclaire, who returned their smiles with tears of relief.

It’s always reassuring and enjoyable to be together. That’s what it means to be comrades.

“…It’s a shame one of us is missing.”

Figgy’s inadvertent mumble made everyone flinch.

But it was only for a moment.

“Don’t worry. That guy will definitely come back.”

“He’s the kind of person you can’t imagine dying.”

“…Right?”

“He might even be healthier than us.”

“We’ll definitely save big brother.”

Tudor, Sancho, Figgy, Bianca, and Sinclaire turned with determined expressions.

And before them stood Dolores, their most reliable senior and ally.

“All set! The prayer is complete!”

Dolores clasped her hands together and began to emanate divine power.

**Whoosh—**

A bright white flame began to spread out in a dome shape.

As the holy power from Dolores reached the knights of the Donquixote Clan, they all flinched simultaneously.

The dullness cleared from their eyes, and their movements noticeably slowed.

“It worked! It’s having an effect!” Tudor couldn’t help but shout.

However, Dolores’s expression was far from bright.

“No, it’s not enough. The brainwashing is too strong. A demon of the highest order, like the Ten Calamities, must be behind this.”

And standing before Dolores, indirectly controlling the knights through this power, was the mastermind of the battlefield.

“Ha ha ha ha! As long as I am here, His influence remains unchallenged!”

Pedro. He was exuding dark energy and charging toward Dolores.

As Pedro drew closer, the eyes of the surrounding knights grew dark again, and their actions became agile once more.

Ultimately, Dolores bit her lip and took out her trump card.

“…There’s no choice.”

She had hoped not to resort to this method.

Dolores clasped her hands together and began to pray.

**Whoosh!**

Once again, a bright light swirled around her.

A warmth like the gentle sunlight of a spring day began to fill the battlefield.

Pedro sneered at Dolores.

“Prayers and holy spells are laughable! No matter how much light you shine, it will only be warm…”

However, he couldn’t finish his sentence.

Because suddenly, a large shadow loomed over his face.

“…Huh?”

Pedro’s expression turned blank for a moment.

It was because of the object Dolores had suddenly pulled out while praying.

A mace. Big, beautiful, and powerful—a massive hunk of metal.

It wasn’t divine power but physical force—Nabokov I’s beloved weapon was right there in her hands.