Revenge of the Iron-blooded Sword Hound

Revenge of the Iron-Blooded Sword Hound Chapter 431

Chapter 431: The Lion King (2)

Whoooosh—

As the fishermen predicted, perhaps due to a volcanic eruption in the distant sea, a strange warmth had been carried by the fierce sea breeze for the past few days.

The stench of dried fish carried by this warm sea breeze spread throughout the entire castle of the Donquixote clan, built atop the coastal cliffs.

This smell came from the process of drying the unusually large catch of warm-water fish, a result of the increased water temperature.

The excess fish were dried by the fishermen all along the coast, and the stench spread over a wide area, even reaching the Donquixote clan’s castle.

……However.

The stench now wafting through the hallway was of a completely different kind.

Lion King, Cervantes Donquixote.

Head of the Donquixote clan and one of the Empire’s seven pillars.

He was the maritime emperor who commanded the invincible cavalry and navy (Fleet), ruling the blue seas.

He was also the father of one of the most notable young heroes of this generation, Tudor Donquixote.

Tudor could see his father as soon as he opened the door.

However, the first emotion Tudor felt upon seeing his father was neither sadness nor joy.

“……?”

It was curiosity. It was nothing special.

It was the pure curiosity of not understanding what he was seeing.

The unlit bedroom.

On the large, desolate bed, something dark was moving.

Though it had a human shape, its slight trembling suggested something unusual.

As Tudor took a step forward to see what it was.

Rattle, rattle, rattle—

Sensing a human presence, it began to move wildly.

Countless black waves spread out from the bed in all directions.

“……!”

Tudor finally realized what those dark things were.

They were cockroaches, flies, ants, centipedes, and various small beetles.

Buzz—

The stench grew stronger as the unpleasant sound of wings filled the air.

An obscene scene was revealed on the bed swarming with a tremendous number of insects.

King of the Seas, Lion king Cervantes.

The superhuman who could pierce mountains with a single spear thrust and split the sea with a single swing.

A figure who possessed the most vast territory among the Empire’s seven great clans.

The king of sailors who ruled the seas.

He lay on the bed with only his skull and dried skin remaining.

His body, teeming with insects, was reduced to nothing but bones, and his two skeletal arms tightly gripped the long spear piercing his belly.

The stench and the insects originated from that very spot.

Thud—

Tudor collapsed on the spot.

“…Father.”

His voice muttered in a daze.

A demeanor that suggested he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

Silence. A dreadful silence.

Even a grave would be quieter than this.

In the face of the horrifying scene before them, no one dared to speak.

No one dared to approach Tudor, who had collapsed.

His best friend, his greatest teacher, his beloved father.

Tudor’s eyes, having witnessed the tragic end of such a figure, were trembling like a sailboat caught in a storm.

At that moment.

“Hold on.”

Someone covered Tudor’s eyes from behind.

It was Bianca. With a trembling voice, she spoke softly into his ear.

“Just stay like this for a moment, okay?”

Bianca held Tudor tightly, desperately. She covered his eyes with her shaking hands.

After a long silence, Tudor finally spoke, as if a dam had burst inside him.

“……Fatherrr!”

He couldn’t continue speaking for a long time after that.

Dolores, who was standing nearby, stepped forward.

She began to clear the bugs crawling over the bed with her bare hands.

Once most of the insects were gone, Dolores covered Cervantes’ face with her handkerchief.

“This is my body, which I give for you. Ite, missa est. Rest in peace, and go to a better place.”

It was a short, but heartfelt farewell from the saintess.

As soon as Bianca let go of his eyes, Tudor collapsed onto Cervantes’ mummified body, struggling to contain his sobs.

The sound of tears..

Emotions of pain, sorrow, hatred, and regret swirled within him.

“……He took his own life.”

Everyone, including Dolores, could infer Cervantes’ final moments.

The cause of his death was obvious to anyone.

Weakened by poison and inner demons, he used his remaining strength to turn his spear on himself before the demon could take over.

With superhuman willpower and endurance, he drove the spear deep into his abdomen, piercing through to the floor below.

The blackened swirls on the bed, walls, floor, and ceiling showed how fiercely the demon had fought to claim Cervantes’ soul.

Dolores used her holy power to cleanse Cervantes’ body.

All traces of malevolence, including the poison, were purified.

“Even with his weakened mind, he resisted the demon to the end.”

“I know. I knew. I had expected it, to some extent….”

Tudor responded with a voice thick with emotion.

Cervantes’ mental strength was legendary.

He was the ruler of the seas.

……The question was what had caused his once-strong body to fall ill.

Dolores examined the floor beneath the bed.

There were the rotting corpses of insects.

Dried up and reduced to powder, these were likely the first to feed on Cervantes’ poisoned body.

“……I can feel the poison. A strong plague as well.”

Dolores said as she touched the remains of the insects.

The long-decayed insects had clearly died from consuming Cervantes’ poisoned body.

Even now, a faint trace of poison could be sensed from his remains.

The poison had faded over time, but it was still possible to discern what had tormented him to death.

Dolores recognized it immediately.

“…The Red Death!”

Memories of her first encounter with Vikir surfaced.

“A plague is spreading in the slums.”

Back then, Dolores had been suspicious of Vikir and reluctant to meet him, but the severity of the situation he described forced her to listen.

It was then she first learned of the terrifying plague known as the Red Death.

“The experience I gained dealing with the Red Death back then is proving invaluable now.”

Dolores had firsthand experience purifying this plague.

The Red Death was a virulent poison-based plague created by the Poison Clan Reviadon.

The poison that had infected King of the Seas Cervantes appeared to be a more advanced version of what she had previously encountered.

“It has become even more potent and insidious. To the extent that even King of the Seas couldn’t overcome it.”

Even the lingering traces of the poison after all this time were enough to make her break into a cold sweat.

Dolores committed the sensation of this poison from Cervantes to memory.

Meanwhile, Tudor clenched his teeth in rage.

“…Poison Clan Reviadon!”

These were the enemies who had poisoned his father.

The fiends who created the hateful poison and plague known as the Red Death.

Tudor’s gaze eventually fell upon the spear embedded in Cervantes’ abdomen.

The spear symbolizing the head of the Donquixote clan, ‘Gungnir.’

Cervantes’ spear technique, as swift as lightning and as heavy as a tidal wave, could not be managed by ordinary spears.

While all other spears crafted by renowned artisans broke under the strain, only Gungnir was sturdy and robust enough to handle Cervantes’ technique.

Though heavy, it had a high mana conductivity and never sustained even a scratch, making sharpening unnecessary.

With tears of blood, Tudor grasped the shaft of Gungnir.

“I will avenge you, Father. I will kill Monte and ensure that every person involved in this atrocity pays dearly.”

Then something incredible happened.

Buzz, buzz, buzz……

Gungnir began to tremble slightly, and then slowly, it slid out of Cervantes’ body.

It was as if Cervantes himself was moving it.

Clunk-

Like a magnet finding its pair, Gungnir settled into Tudor’s hand.

The spear’s weight nearly caused Tudor to stumble, but he held on firmly.

Even though Cervantes had wielded Gungnir with both hands, Tudor managed to hold it with one, despite its substantial weight, and stood up without hesitation.

And just like that, as if it were a lie—

Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz…… Ssshhhh—

Cervantes’ body, which had maintained its posture despite being devoured by countless insects, began to crumble into powder.

His remains turned into black and red ash, collapsing with no trace of the previous stench.

Only the sharp, familiar scent of the tobacco he had loved in life lingered.

At that moment—

Clap, clap, clap, clap—

From the dark corner, someone stood up, applauding.

……!

The six night walkers, who hadn’t sensed anyone else in the room until now, quickly assumed defensive stances.

Eventually, the face of the intruder was revealed in the dim light.

A tall, slender man with a white mask.

“It’s finally been pulled out. Gungnir.”

Monte Donquixote.

No, it was the appearance of the fourth Corpse, ‘Chimera.’