The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound
chapter-224

Chapter 224 That Day’s Story (5)

The rhythmic knocking on my door was just a visitor, nothing more.

The oppressive December. The dying embers cast shadows on the floor.

I fervently hoped for tomorrow to come, and in vain, I tried to forget his death and the sorrow that came with it by immersing myself in reading.

Here, the man without a name would be eternal.

For the potential visitor standing outside my door, I swung it wide open.

There was only darkness, nothing more.

I stared at the darkness for a long time, puzzled, fearful, suspicious, dreaming dreams that no one dared to dream before.

The only echo to my whispered words, “Vikir!”, was the repeated refrain, “Vikir!”

Just these words, nothing more.

As I closed the door, every soul within me burned, and I heard a loud and distinct knocking.

Just the wind, nothing more.

When I opened the door, a noisy crow flapped its wings and hopped inside with a “puduk!”

It hopped up, sat down, and that was all.

With a sad smile, I addressed the solemn bird.

Bald and beak-capped, but no coward. O fearsome crow wandering the shores of darkness. Speak your old and noble name.

The crow replied, “Nevermore.”

I shouted again.

Prophet, wicked one! Tell me, in life or death, will I ever meet that noble and shining one named Vikir, whom I named as a god?

The crow replied, “Nevermore.”

I grew furious.

That demon must return. To the underworld of the night. Leave not a single false token, not even a truckload of black feathers.

The crow replied, “Nevermore.”

And so, that crow never flew away and continued to sit there.

Its eyes were like the sinister pupils of a dreaming devil, and the torchlight below cast wicked shadows.

From the hovering shadows on the floor, my soul would never escape…

…nevermore.

Camus Morg, [The Raven, Diary of a December]-

Quoted from Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven.”

* * *

Camus closed her diary.

She ventured out into the city, clutching the diary containing all her memories in her embrace. Her destination was the city’s most famous landmark, the ‘Colosseo Academy.’

In celebration of Halloween, the academy, which usually restricted outsiders, had its main gate wide open.

Colosseo Academy’s door was so high that one had to raise their chin as much as possible to see it all.

Inside, a massive crowd and bright lights filled the space. Camus, with a wistful look, observed their movements for a moment.

‘If I had lived a normal life, would I be here by now?’

Peers and those who appeared to be slightly older were moving about. They formed festival booths, decorated, conducted business, or simply had fun, fists clenched, hands clasped, or on the verge of grabbing each other.

If Camus had grown up normally, she might have become the family genius, thriving and flourishing at this academy. Perhaps she would have co-founded a festival pub with her classmates, laughing and crying together, attracting customers on the streets or in the kitchen, cooking and serving guests with her cousin Rosie by her side.

And beside her…

‘That guy was amazing at cooking, so he’d probably work in the kitchen. Then I would have taken it and served the customers. …No, maybe, because he was handsome, so we’d probably work together to attract customers. There must have been a lot of clingy girls, so I would have had a hard time. But well, I wasn’t lacking in charm either.”

Camus chuckled as she spoke.

Only Gerento, who had become Rosie, nodded approvingly beside her.

Then, while walking down an alley, Camus suddenly stopped upon seeing a large mirror attached to a wall.

A woman with a shabby cloak and a creepy skull mask.

The reflection of herself in the mirror was nothing compared to the pretty female students enjoying the festival.

“…,” Camus momentarily looked away from the mirror.

Creak-

As she averted her gaze, the mirror shattered into hundreds of pieces.

A life born smoothly, grown-up smoothly, entered a good school smoothly, climbed smoothly to a high position, smoothly engaged in a good relationship with a good man, married smoothly, gave birth to a child smoothly, and aged smoothly, closing her eyes with everyone’s love and respect.

Such a life was no longer something she could expect.

The lives of the female students chatting and laughing at the academy were completely someone else’s story now. It was a life that had absolutely no relevance to her.

Camus thought so.

And then…

Boom, boom, boom, boom…

On the night of the market, where flames and cherry blossoms scattered, Camus met him.

The face she had almost forgotten, the one she often saw in her dreams.

Vikir. Vikir Van Baskerville.

He was at the school festival cafe.

“! …! …!”

Camus doubted her own eyes. However, no matter how much she blinked, that face was undoubtedly Vikir’s.

‘…Did he have a younger sister?’

It couldn’t be.

She had thoroughly investigated the family background of the person who would become her husband.

There were no females in his household; no daughters were born.

Since the disappearance of the only daughter, Penelope, a long time ago, it seemed as if a curse had befallen the family, and no daughters were born.

Camus walked forward as if possessed. Soon, she would be able to meet him or at least find some clues. The faint hopes were turning into concrete certainty, guiding her forward.

Just as Camus was approaching the festival pub with the sign “Newspaper Club Cafe” written on it:

“…Who are you?”

A familiar figure. Night Hound blocked her path. Moreover, this time, it was someone different, or at least it seemed that way.

Again…

Camus was furious. Just when she had caught a clue, just when she could meet the person she had longed for, these nuisances kept interfering.

She was a woman who had come here a long time ago to meet a man she had long loved, and she was determined not to give in to anything..

“Step aside.”

There would be no second chance.

******

And again, time passed, and now.

…Pahat!

Gerento brought the battered Camus to the hideout and used Life Vessel to heal her. Despite an enormous amount of highly concentrated mana potion flowing into her body, Camus’s body barely recovered. However,

“…Haha! This time, I almost crossed over for real.”

She had barely regained consciousness after being on the verge of death.

Upon waking up, Camus immediately checked her own condition.

“My body is a wreck. But well, it doesn’t matter. As long as there’s time, I can heal it as much as I want.”

More importantly, Vikir is still alive.

“…Yeah. He was alive. So that’s why I couldn’t meet him. Why did I foolishly think he was dead?”

Even though her body was covered in blood and injuries, laughter continued to escape Camus. She couldn’t control the upward curve of her lips.

“And at the end, I confirmed his feelings too. In the end, he couldn’t kill me. Why? Because he has feelings for me!”

Camus couldn’t fully grasp Vikir’s mind, but she could sense that he had crossed some barrier during the internal conflict about whether to kill her or not.

At that moment, Camus checked her body once again.

Most of the injuries were the result of Sere’s rampage, and except for the wounds on her arms and legs from Vikir, there were no other injuries. There were no fatal wounds, and even those were rapidly healing.

Camus looked at Rosie, who was beside her.

“Vikir didn’t try to kill me when I was escaping at the end, did he?”

Nod.

Eventually, Rosie’s memories were conveyed to Camus.

“…I see.”

Camus smiled bitterly.

When she first met Vikir as the Night hound, she could have killed him, but she didn’t because of some strange intuition. Vikir felt the same way. He let the unconscious Camus go. It meant he trusted Camus and Rosie.

Camus came to this place to meet the man she had loved for a long time and to find out whether she could break free from the demon’s contract with her own strength.

Camus stared at the cliff’s edge in the depths of her mind, where a steep and high precipice loomed.

At the end of the sharply protruding cliff was a peak. Someone seemed to be dangling at the dead end.

[“Uwaaah! Help! Someone, please save me!”]

It was Sere.

Vikir severed the connection between Camus and her, and she found herself in the deepest recesses of consciousness, pushed into a corner.

Her body had shrunk to the size of a newborn, like an infant.

Camus had regained control of her body almost 99.99%, and the parts of her body that had been severely damaged and semi-paralyzed were now perfectly restored, thanks to Sere’s repairs.

Since Vikir had obliterated most of Sere’s consciousness, there was only a minimal trace of Sere’s consciousness remaining in Camus’s mind.

If we were to compare it to juice, it would be like pouring juice into a glass, spilling it all, and having just a minimal amount of juice remaining on the surface of the glass.

Even if it wasn’t there, it would be an exaggeration to say it was there.

Camus asked, “Why didn’t you completely disappear?”

[Well, um… that’s because you broke the 12-hour contract. Thanks to that penalty, I can still exist a tiny bit.]

During the battle with Vikir, Camus had infringed on Sere’s authority. Therefore, Sere was benefiting from that counteraction, gaining a slight bit of vitality.

“Hmm~” Camus stroked her chin while standing on the edge of the cliff.

Then, tearful Sere grabbed Camus’s toe, pleading, [P-please don’t let go! Please, even if it’s just a little, considering the favor from before!]

Camus opened her mouth with a chilling tone, “A fearless brat who relied on her talent and her will.”

[Eh?]

“Hoho-hoho. Do you have a man you really want to meet again? Where is the fool who risked his life for such a trivial reason?”

[E-e-e-eh…]

“If I had this face and body, I wouldn’t have lived like that. I would have comfortably drained the lifeblood of young males, become stronger, and might have even grown into a powerful figure. Ah~ life is so difficult.”

[Hiik!]

What Camus was saying now were the lines she had spoken to Vikir when she had full control of her body and was scolding him.

Sere swallowed forcefully.

Camus addressed her in a cold tone.

“Listen, don’t judge people according to your standards. He’s not one of those shady men; Do you get it?”

[Yes, yes, yes! Yes, yes, yes!]

Sere’s insignificant share would, at best, cause her to itch like a mosquito bite for about a second once a day.

Camus. She had regained control of her life.

A master with complete command of her body and soul. The empress was back.

“Get down.”

In her mind, her command is absolute.

Sere relinquished all her powers and authority to Camus. It was the moment when the contractual relationship of mutual enmity turned into a unilateral master-servant relationship.

Camus, now became a black mage with the power of a demon lord, laughed even more when she saw the further diminished Sere on her fingertip.

“Your prophecy was right thp. You did eventually lead me to him.”

Vikir had come to Camus as a demon hunter in search of a demon, but the prophecy had been fulfilled anyway.

With Sere carefully perched on her fingertip, Camus grinned. “Shall we open the gate now?”

[R-really!? You’ll really do that?]

“No, just kidding. Do you think I’m crazy?”

Sere’s eyes visibly drooped at Camus’s words.

Camus chuckled brightly. “The world shouldn’t be ruined now. It’s enough that he’s alive, and I’m alive.”

[…Soo, what are we going to do?]

“For a while, I’ll have to take care of this broken body. It’s completely messed up because someone used it recklessly.”

[S-sorry. I didn’t mean to… um…]

Under Camus’s gaze, Sere shrunk even more. She looked as if she had thrown a piece of butter onto a hot pan, causing it to sizzle and pop.

Camus began to seriously consider what to do next.

“To become a good bride, there’s a lot to prepare. I’ll start step by step as I recover.”

[B-bride? Get married?]

“Why not? After going through all this trouble to meet again, what’s the point if someone else gets in the way?”

[S-so he’s that important to you?]

When Sere asked, bewildered, Camus nodded firmly. “Yes. Very, very important.”

To the extent that she wanted to be by his side even if he were dead.

Or even if she were dead, she wanted to be by his side.

A man who had to kill the woman to save the world, and a woman who didn’t mind if the world ended as long as she could be with him. They eventually found a dramatic solution, one in which no one had to be unhappy and everyone could be happy.

“For the time being, I must return to Morg. Those thunderous sisters, Highsis, Midsis, and Lowsis, must be overjoyed that I’m gone. “I’ve got to get them back in line.”

Sere could only watch with a bemused expression as Camus made her decision.

How happy her sisters would be was already evident in her forced smile. Camus could now muster a mischievous smile appropriate for her age.

“I miss Mom, and my uncle… And also…”

In an instant, her expression turned serious. Snake Morg. The announcement of his death was inevitable. There needed to be a funeral befitting his lofty and sacred sacrifice.

“First, inheriting the mantle of the master is the most urgent matter.”

Due to Morg Snake’s prolonged absence, the Dark Faction had become leaderless, and it was essential to completely control it. Camus was determined to follow in her master’s footsteps and become the leader of the Dark Faction.

With Morg Snake’s death announcement, the Dark Faction would be in chaos, and a new election for the representatives would take place.

Fierce power struggles were expected to unfold. Moreover, Camus, who had been hiding behind the excuse of secluded training, would come to the forefront.

To emphasize once again, she was a black mage with the power of a demon lord.

She had absorbed the power of ond of the ten supreme demons, Sere. Capable of reviving beings and making them rise again from death. Camus was resolute in her thoughts.

“First, completely conquering Dark FAction and becoming their leader, I’ll rise to the same level as Uncle Adolf.”

It would undoubtedly be a challenging task, but Camus was confident.

And also…

Camus raised her head. In the distance, the dark night sky of Venetior spread out.

Far away, the pointed spires and high walls marked the location of the “Colosseo Academy.”

Finally, Camus spoke.

“If I enroll, I guess I’ll be in the 21st class.”

A year below him. Yet, she was confident.

“On the day of my return…”

Camus’s eyes glowed crimson. With a voice full of conviction, she declared to Vikir, who would be far away:

“You’ll only belong to me.”

Even the Demon Lord Sere, for a moment, felt a shiver of intense possessiveness from her.