The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound
chapter-218

Chapter 218 My Neck Will Be Your Sheath. (3)

Sere’s expression contorted as the crimson glow emitted by Aura Blade enveloped her.

[If you kill me, this girl will die too!]

However, Vikir responded with a veiled determination, “No. Only you would die.”

Simultaneously, a red crescent moon rose, grazing Sere’s throat.

…Spurt!

Drops of red blood scattered.

In an instant, Sere leaned back, avoiding a lethal strike.

Vikir, too, twisted his blade at the last moment.

‘…Was it a failure?’

Vikir bit his tongue inwardly.

Despite confidently asserting success in words, it was a mere bluff.

In the final moment, Vikir hesitated to cut Camus’ throat, allowing Sere to survive.

…Thud!

Vikir fell down.

Since reaching the level of Peak Graduator, there was hardly any substance he couldn’t cut through.

However, abstract things like souls and emotions remained untouched.

Vikir remembered Hugo’s sword technique from before.

A casual strike towards Andromalius, who was fleeing, effortlessly split the sky into seven pieces and severed Andromalius’ conceptual entity, which existed somewhere between matter and antimatter.

‘If I can’t reach that level, can I not separate Camus and Sere?’

Currently, Camus and Sere were bound by the thread of a contract, a wicked fate.

The tough and tenacious knot was abstract and conceptual, it was something that the aura of a Peak Graduator could not sever.

…But in the domain of the Swordmaster, it was another story.

The power of a transcendent being that surpasses the Peak Graduator.

Only they could perfectly sever the abstract contract between Camus and Sere.

‘With my current strength, the only option will be to kill them both.’

Truly a perplexing situation.

Magic and blade again collided…

Puff, puff, puff!

Twenty-four iron stakes were embedded in Vikir’s left forearm.

Sere, too, was hit by the sword, but once again, it was a swift strike that avoided vital organs.

[Hehehe. As expected, your actions couldn’t keep up with your words. Behave more recklessly~]

As her words became more venomous, the black magic permeating the atmosphere also thickened.

Slithering…

As Sere’s murderous intent reached Vikir, Camus’s mixed emotions became apparent.

Sadness, affection, longing, resentment, and a tender yearning.

Since the age of eight, the emotions had been growing and sprouting roots despite efforts to erase and conceal them.

These emotions were now conveyed without filtering after Vikir vanished, during the days when she tirelessly searched for him day and night, during the period when she believed Vikir was dead and abandoned the search to focus on resurrecting him, during the period when she lost half her body and soul in a horrific accident and made a pact with a demon…

“…”

Vikir gritted his teeth.

No matter how resilient he was, with the skills of a Graduator, it was impossible to separate them.

Even with a crying heart, it had to be endured.

He knew responsibilities take precedence over emotions.

But…

Deep within, emotions he thought he had killed long ago were slowly showing up again.

“Did Hugo feel like this too?”

At that time, it was hard to imagine what kind of emotions Hugo harbored and to what extent.

Vikir focused on his breathing.

Puff, puff, puff!

The iron stakes piercing through his body, heated by hellfire, were viciously hot.

Sere had burned all the spider webs made by baby madam.

And, watching Vikir endure the pain in silence, she grinned.

[You have no chance anyway. You can’t kill this girl.]

“…”

Sere set conditions towards the silent Vikir.

[Let’s make a deal then.]

“…?”

Vikir narrowed his eyes.

Sere chuckled, thinking Vikir’s attitude had changed.

[Remove the barrier.]

Her demand was simple.

[If you remove this barrier and step back, I will leave this place. Without killing anyone.]

“…”

[But if you refuse…? You know what I’d do right?]

Sere smiled widely, resembling Camus’ face.

[When all your mana is drained, I will break this barrier and go out, killing all the children in this academy.]

Sere didn’t seem entirely pleased with the current situation either.

After all, fighting to the death here would benefit Sere in no way.

Survival is the bottom line; demons never make deals that put them at a disadvantage.

[If you step back, everyone can survive. You, me, this girl, and all the civilians in the academy.]

Sere demanded the removal of the barrier as if it were a matter of course.

However.

Vikir shook his head once again.

“I don’t make deals with demons.”

[What? You intend to kill this girl?]

“No. Only you will die.”

[What nonsense is this… How do you plan to do that?]

Vikir opened his eyes narrowly at Sere’s words.

It’s impossible with the liquid aura of a Graduator.

Indeed, with this soft and pliable aura, he couldn’t cut the contract between Camus and Sere.

Only the Solid aura of a SwordMaster can cut the invisible ties that connect Sere and Camus.

At the same time, the thoughts that had been floating in his mind since earlier were organized.

-To perfect the 6th style, discard all your emotions.

-But to master the 7th style, you must embrace them again.

Vikir didn’t exactly know what emotions he had towards Camus right now.

Respect for the hero who dominated the era of destruction in his past life?

And after regression, a childhood friend he had grown attached to in his own way.

‘Would it have felt like this if I had a younger sister?’

This feeling was similar to, yet subtly different from, what he felt towards his niece Pomeranian.

The emotion Vikir thought he had killed off, had somehow survived, taking root deep in his heart.

And at that moment Vikir discovered that emotion.

‘Now!’

Suddenly, Sere’s expression changed.

Camus’ eyes, one white and one black, momentarily regained their original colors.

Camus, shedding tears of blood, shouted.

Her momentum momentarily pushed Sere’s consciousness aside, regaining control of her body.

…Although it was at a very subtle level.

Sere who was pushed back behind Camus protested.

[Crazy girl! How dare you take command your 12 hours!? This is a breach of contract! Your soul will perish!]

But Camus still held onto control of her body, despite the pain of her soul being diminished.

Focusing solely on her mouth and hands, she shouted.

“Hurry!”

Camus’ two hands tore through the tough bone armor, revealing her neck and chest.

A Soul clashed with another soul in her body.

An explosion of mana was an expected outcome.

Sere, now hovering like mist behind Camus, screamed in horror.

[Another mana explosion! Do you want to go through that again? You’re going to die this time!]

“Vikir! Quickly!”

Camus shouted with her neck revealed and small drops of tears in her eyes.

Now, her neck was ready to become Vikir’s sheath.

And then.

“…”

At that moment, a crimson red aura flew towards Camus’ neck.

‘I can’t make a mistake here.’

There’s only one opportunity.

Even the seasoned hound who had crossed numerous battlefields until now had his grip dripping with sweat this time.

A terrifyingly brief moment that split second by second.

Vikir wielded his sword in the midst of numerous doubts, conflicts, and musings.

During this time, the emotions that Vikir thought he had extinguished resurfaced and bore fruit.

Bang! The whirlwind of emotions erupted violently.

They overflew.

It swept away all the dryness and ruptures that had accumulated so far in a passionate surge.

The towering wall that seemed impossible to overcome or break through crumbled like a soaked seaweed castle in the waves.

Was it really this easy?

At the same time, the unparalle powers that were behind the wall began to rush in explosively.

“…! …! …!”

A surplus of strength surged through his entire circulatory system. A sense of transcendence, as if becoming something superior beyond humans.

Vikir had felt this feeling only once before.

When he beheaded Dantalian with the help of Saintess Dolores.

…But there was one difference;

This time he did it without her help…

The only thing present is a wounded and scarred hunting dog, baring its teeth to save the girl in front of it!

Finally.

The trajectory of the sword swung by Vikir split into several branches.

And, the most noticeable among them was the seventh fang, a bright red fang shining sharper and larger than any other tooth, reaching toward Camus’ neck.

And.

The sword that could cut what could be cut… became a sword that could cut what couldn’t be cut.

Snap—

He has reached the Realm of Swordmaster.