The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound
chapter-132

Chapter 132 Freshman Talent Show (3)

The 2nd-year elites surrounded Figgy and jeered at him.

“This round goes to me~ Look forward to the next one~”

“If the next round is also mine~ I’ll pull out all your teeth~”

“One beat rest! Two beats rest! Finish the three beats and one, two, three, four!”

“Come on, do something quickly! We’re bored, guys and girls!”

This group of three guys and three girls continued to torment Figgy.

Timid Figgy, of course, couldn’t say a word and just had tears streaming down his face.

Then the girls burst into laughter.

“What’s wrong? Is he crying?”

“Oh, poor thing~”

“You guys are really mean! Why are you tormenting a kid!”

The guys laughed heartily in response.

“When did we torment him?”

“This is just a way to get closer. We’ll be seeing each other for a long time.”

“Hey, why are you crying? Did we intentionally make someone cry?”

Then, one of the girls tapped Figgy’s shoulder.

“Hey, don’t cry. Have a drink.”

At the same time, a large glass started filling up with alcohol.

Glug, glug, glug…

A potent mix of fermented and distilled spirits.

It was clear that even one sip would lead to a massive hangover the next day.

A guy looked at Figgy and grinned.

“Take a shot, And we’ll let you off the hook for the talent show.”

The six elites continued to laugh heartily, keeping Figgy surrounded.

They showed no intention of letting him go until he finished the drink.

Eventually, Figgy started drinking with a tearful face.

And the result came before he could finish even two sips.

“Ugh!”

Figgy vomited, emptying his stomach contents on the floor.

Since he hadn’t eaten anything, most of the vomit consisted of alcohol and stomach acid.

Meanwhile, the elites who witnessed Figgy’s vomiting reacted in disgust.

“Ew! It’s so gross! It splattered on my stockings!”

“Wow, this guy puked? It’s quite a spectacle even before the initiation ceremony!”

“From now on, your nickname is Vomiting Figgy!”

“I’ll call you Vomiting Figgy until I graduate!”

Instantly, all eyes were on him, and the surrounding crowd made a commotion.

Then, something covered the vomit on the floor with a flutter.

It was the cape Vikir had been wearing.

A cape given to freshmen.

This cape, with the academy’s logo embroidered clearly, was so symbolic that newcomers treasured it almost as much as their lives.

Vikir took it off and used it to cover the vomit on the floor.

Then, he walked up to the second-year elites, who were standing dazed, and patted Figgy on the back.

“Go to the dormitory. I’ll clean up here.”

“…….”

Figgy looked at Vikir with trembling eyes, but Vikir simply silently wiped the floor with his cape.

Then,

“Hey, you.”

The 2nd-year elites grabbed Vikir’s shoulders with grim expressions.

“Are you crazy? Interrupting a senior talking?”

“What are you doing with that cape right now? Do you even know what kind of cape that is…?”

“Hey, is this guy your junior? From the Cold Department? What’s his name? Part your bangs and show us your face.”

The atmosphere grew even more chaotic.

Some of the elites touched Vikir’s glasses and cheeks, smirking.

“You seem pretty confident, huh? Coming out so arrogantly.”

“Hey, a friend left this half-drunk, so you should finish it.”

“This is cruel to Figgy, but if you both drink it all, I’ll let you both off.”

“He’s your friend, so you should drink it in his place, right? Show some loyalty!”

The elites held out a large glass in front of Vikir.

A cocktail of vodka, rum, and more mixed together.

Since Figgy had only taken two sips, it looked like there was more than a liter in the glass, even at a glance.

It would be unreasonable for anyone to drink this much.

However,

“…”

Without any reaction, Vikir picked up the glass.

And then,

Gulp, gulp, gulp…

Without a single change in expression, he emptied the glass without hesitation.

Children in Baskerville often consume small amounts of poison with their meals to build resistance.

During missions, they couldn’t afford to get drunk, so resistance to alcohol was essential, and naturally, they had strong livers.

Moreover, in his previous life, Vikir had heard the word “drinking party” quite often amidst all sorts of rough guys on the battlefield.

“…”

Without any particular reaction, Vikir placed the empty glass back on the table.

Then, he left the scene as if nothing had happened.

When the second-year elites, who were still dazed, finally regained their senses and tried to follow him,

“Hey, why is it so noisy here? Who vomited?”

Dolores, the student council president, happened to call out to them as she was returning from the Hot department’s orientation venue.

“Ah, um. A freshman vomited.”

“We’ll take care of it!”

“It’s nothing serious!”

In an awkward response, the second-year elites forced a smile.

“Be careful not to mistreat the freshmen, even if it’s a minor incident. Maintain the dignity of the Academy’s upperclassmen, understood?”

“Yes! Of course!”

“…Good.”

After scanning the faces of the second-year juniors, Dolores continued on her way.

Only then did the second-year elites shake their heads, but Figgy and Vikir had already disappeared.

“These guys ran away just like that.”

“I’ve never seen someone wiping someone else’s vomit with their initiation cape before.”

“Right. Maybe because he’s a commoner, he doesn’t know the value of this logo?”

“We’ll find them later and make them both pay for this.”

“Oh, what do we do? You do know that dueling between freshmen and upperclassmen is prohibited, right?”

“We can just flatten them in some sports competition or something.”

The second-year elites mumbled to themselves as they left the scene.

Today, they had spotted two freshmen, and they were pondering how to torment them in the future.

A few hours later.

“Phew, I’m drunk. I should go out and get some ice cream.”

The second-year elites were in high spirits and intoxicated.

They left the classroom where the drinking game was taking place and headed towards the shops outside the Academy walls for a while.

“It’s a bit far, but ice cream tastes better outside.”

The second-year elites chuckled and left the Academy through the back gate, entering the shopping district.

In the narrow alleyways, small-scale festivals were happening alongside the Academy’s orientation.

The second-year elites walked towards the street filled with a variety of food.

…Or so they intended to.

Thud!

Until one of them was grabbed by a hand that suddenly emerged from the dark night and dragged away.

“Ugh!? Ugh!?”

The first male student to be grabbed panicked and opened his eyes wide.

In front of him, a dark shadow loomed ominously.

Black leather gloves covering the face, and a strong grip that could be felt from within.

Under a wide-brimmed black hat, a crow’s beak mask exuded the aura of a plague.

The gaze of the mysterious figure, whose face couldn’t be seen, pierced through his eyeballs.

Punch! Thud!

Eventually, he was hit by a flying fist and slammed against the wall.

There was no time to summon mana.

The attacker was swift and powerful.

The moment he took a hit, his nose and teeth were already shattered, and he crumpled to the ground.

Thud, thud, thud, thud, urgh!

The remaining five also met the same fate.

The six second-year elites, who had been dragged into the dark alley, looked up with pale faces.

Night hound.

A presence that seemed like a hellhound was staring down at them with a fierce look, as if ready to pounce and tear them apart.

Whack!

The first one to be grabbed had his jaw dislocated.

!

Their teeth cracked and crumbled, and soon the flesh of their cheeks tore open.

The nasal bone broke into three pieces and twisted in zigzags.

The cheekbone sank, and blood oozed from every hole on their faces.

The bravest of them all managed to speak.

“Who are you?!?!”

It was a typical intimidation tactic, like asking, “Do you know who I am?”

Vikir, in his Night Hound mode, nodded his head once.

Then, using mana, he produced a distorted sound that resembled an old dog with a sore throat growling.

“Yeah, you know. You know well.”

The second-year elites were astonished not only by the eerie voice of the Night’s Hound but also by the fact that he knew their identities despite doing such a thing.

The Night Hound continued.

“From right to left: Yuspier, Realbert, Yellow Love, ImCum, Red Min, South Middle. 2nd-year students from the Cold Department Class B. Each of you is from the Pahl, Vetry, Howzing, Seaweed, Bison, and Euler families. As for your parents, they are most likely Count Offenhauser, Count Munich, Viscount Oswald, Baron Zerma, and Baron Upham, right?”

Names, family names, family positions, and even their parents’ names were revealed, causing the expressions of the second-year elites to turn pale.

Eventually, the Night’s Hound pushed a sharp knife towards their foreheads.

“Uhhhh….”

The second-year elites, in terror, even wet themselves as they lowered their heads, but they couldn’t avoid the knife drawing closer to their foreheads with a strong grip on their chins.

The ominous aura emanating from the slowly approaching blade left a sinister scar on their foreheads.

An “X.”

Like a target.

It represented a target and would leave a permanent imprint for years to come.

“Try causing trouble within the Academy one more time.”

With blood trickling down from their foreheads and trembling, the Night Hound warned them sharply.

“At that time, I will not only kill you but also kill everyone in your wretched families.”