The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound
chapter-161

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Chapter 161: A Familiar Face (4)

Geronto.

A female magician with a slender frame.

Her long, red hair hung below, and a weird black cloth was covering her face.

Dolores spoke with a stern expression.

“She’s a relatively recent addition to Quilty. Judging by her physique, she looks quite young…”

“…”

Rather than a verbal response, Vikir swallowed a nervous cough.

Eventually, Geronto stepped forward.

A storm of common mana began to swirl around her.

…Crackle! Sizzle!

Elaborate magic circles appeared throughout the air, and flames and Ice spikes immediately burst forth.

Metal spikes that shot up from the ground turned red from the flames.

Even a slight touch would result in burns and injuries.

Seeing the immense amount of mana emanating from Geronto, Dolores panicked and shouted, “If this is magic of this level, she’s at least Class 5… No, Class 6! She must have been an incredibly talented magician!”

Burning iron spikes flew in all directions.

Vikir wielded his Beelzebub and deflected the flying spikes.

Crackle!

The fiery barrier swirled around, obstructing Vikir’s path.

Whenever Vikir stumbled, iron spikes were popping out everywhere, covering the floor, walls, and ceiling, a few of them hit him as well.

Sizzle, crackle, pop…

Vikir evaded the flames sticking to his shoulders, back, sides, and feet.

The central lobby of the first chamber had turned into a furnace.

The melting iron cauldron, the red-hot spewing spikes, and the abundance of sparks resembled rows of teeth.

Crackle! Sizzle! Zzzap! …Crash!

Geronto continued to summon fire and spikes on the other side of the furnace.

The flames continued to swell in size.

Amidst the flying sharp iron spikes, each one was highly threatening.

The air was so thick with smoke that breathing would scorch your lungs, and the bright flames and the hazy glow limited visibility.

Dolores, who had been pushed to the front of the main gate, shouted to Vikir, who was right in front of her, “Night Hound! We can’t even get close like this!”

“…”

But Vikir didn’t respond.

He simply watched the landscape of red and black through the goggles attached to his mask and the magician with red hair standing beyond.

Finally, the Night Hound growled, as if muttering to himself.

“…I need to see her face.”

“What?”

“I need to see her face.”

Ignoring Dolores’s puzzled expression, Vikir took a step forward.

The floor had already transformed into a furnace due to the sharp iron spikes and the blazing flames.

Vikir rushed towards it without hesitation.

Zzzap! Crackle!

With each step Vikir took on the molten ground, the spikes shot up.

They pierced through Vikir’s insteps, heels, and even up to his knees.

spikes that popped out from the walls and ceiling were scorched by the flames and gradually melted into boiling molten iron.

…Drip! …Drip! …Drip! Sizzle!

Iron spikes protruding from the ceiling began to melt and fall like a light drizzle throughout the corridor.

Below, new spikes continued to emerge, and the flames grew more intense, while the ceiling rained fire and molten iron.

“…”

Vikir pressed forward through the rain of molten iron and spikes, undaunted.

Sizzle and pop!

Dozens of spikes flew in, sticking themselves all over his body, but Vikir paid them no mind.

“Her face!”

A hotter rage burned beneath Vikir’s throat than the bubbling molten iron.

“I need to see her face!”

The smell of burning flesh and congealing blood.

Dolores watched in horror as Vikir single-handedly endured this arduous path.

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Why is he going to such lengths? Could he be familiar with that female magician? If they are, what kind of relationship do they have? Unanswered questions dried up my mouth and throat, making me thirst for answers even more.

“Ugh…”

Dolores squinted her eyes and followed behind Vikir.

Sacred light wasn’t particularly effective against elements other than darkness. Nevertheless, Dolores dashed into the blazing fire, molten metal, and the furnace of spikes that Vikir had carved out.

Even though her body was stinging, burning, and suffering in pain, she persevered without giving in. She thought, “Night Hound has embarked on an even more perilous path! I shouldn’t be whining about just following!”

As she followed closely behind Vikir, her body also began to be marked with burns and injuries.

Around that time, Vikir reached the end of the furnace. Meanwhile, Geronto either ran out of mana or staggered back and forth and couldn’t summon more fire or spikes. Vikir stood before her.

Iron spikes penetrated his body from head to toe. But Vikir didn’t care and reached out without paying any attention to it.

“Take off your mask.”

Vikir removed the black handle covering Geronto’s face, and it happened in an instant.

[Zzzzzz!]

Geronto let out a blood-curdling scream, and her body thrashed wildly.

Her mana surged like a frenzy, and Vikir realized what it was and quickly withdrew his hand.

“W-what!?” Dolores was too shocked to react in time.

Kwakwakwakwak!

Geronto’s surging mana instantly turned into a massive explosion, obliterating everything in all directions.

…Thud!

Geronto’s charred body, with her neck entirely burned away, collapsed backward.

Flump-

Only one black sackcloth survived the explosion and the flames, lying on the ground.

“…She had a bomb implanted in her head,” Dolores remarked, furrowing her brow.

Meanwhile,

“…”

Vikir remained silent.

He was fixated on Geronto’s lifeless body sprawled on the ground.

The woman’s body was concealed by a dark red robe. Vikir moved after a moment of silence.

Dolores’s eyes widened slightly.

“Night Hound? What are you doing now…?”

It was understandable that she was flustered. Vikir was stripping Geronto’s clothes off right there.

Pfft- Thud!

The sturdy robe was torn to shreds by Vikir’s strong grip.

Finally, the woman with pale skin was exposed. But it wasn’t particularly obscene; her head was entirely missing because it had been torn off.

Furthermore, her body bore dirty traces of iron and leather and other things sewn and patched in various places.

Given that her flesh and bones were not in perfect condition, it was presumed that when she was resurrected as an undead, her body parts weren’t entirely gathered.

This means that even before she became an undead, she couldn’t leave an intact corpse and died in an extremely painful and gruesome manner.

“…”

Vikir stared at Geronto’s lifeless body for a while.

And then…

“No, it’s not.”

Vikir commented briefly. Dolores, with a puzzled expression, asked, “Do you know her?”

“…I thought I did, but it seems I was mistaken.”

Vikir recalled Camus Morg in his mind. In fact, he had suspected that Geronto might be her.

They appeared similar in age, height, and body type, and even their special magic skills were alike. Even the color and length of their hair were the same as he last saw it. Furthermore, Morg Camus had left the light side for no reason, joined the infamous dark magic side, and had recently entered closed training.

But upon closer inspection, Vikir realized Geronto was Camus. Geronto was slightly shorter than Morg Camus, and there were subtle differences in their secondary sexual characteristics. The age factor was also different.

Most importantly, Vikir had seen Camus’ body before when he was eight years old. It happened during their joint training when Camus set fire to his clothes. Vikir distinctly remembered, “At that time, she had a mole above the chest, below the clavicle.” However, there was no trace of such a mark on Geronto’s body.

Red hair, powerful magic, and the ability to control iron and fire all seemed similar to Camus’s abilities, but there were many differences.

‘The issue is why was she an Undead,’ Vikir thought.

Gerento(Camus’ lookalike), as well as the young men from the Baskerville, Donquixote, and Quovadis, had all turned into undead. How far did the roots of this demon extend?

Vikir realized he needed to intensify his demon-hunting efforts.

At that moment, Dolores expressed her concern, “I’ve heard that the tombs of many prominent martial artists have been robbed recently.”

Hearing that, Vikir stroked his chin with his hand. “Robbery, you say.”

Typically, tomb robbery occurred when one aimed to loot treasures, including gold and silver, along with the corpse. But this situation was somewhat different. The corpse itself was the target of grave robbing.

“…Wretched demons.”

Vikir collected the fourth black cloth, which had covered Geronto’s face. Once again, this black handle contained a potent magic, comparable to the Beelzebub.

“I wonder what kind of artifact this is? I should investigate it later.”

Vikir tucked all four black sack cloths into his bag.

With this, he had overcome all the vexing checkpoints: Ephebo, Hebe, Pedo, and now Geronto.

Only the Quilt, the head of the Indulgentia family, remained.

Vikir thought back on the path that had led him to this point. He had accumulated demerits in the academy and spent the entire Golden Holiday performing volunteer work while living a pretend-soldier life. Now, his final goal for this assassination mission was within reach.

Just as Vikir was about to take his last step to reach his destination…

Clap, clap, clap, clap—

From beyond the pitch-black darkness, applause resounded.

“…”

Vikir and Dolores turned their heads toward the source, and there stood a familiar face, Quilt Rune Indulgentia. He was sitting on the railing, looking down at them with a sinister grin.

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