The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound
chapter-286

Chapter 286 Power Inflation (4)

Belial.

‘The Greedy one.’ or the ‘Worthless one’ Sixth among the ten demon lords who descended to destroy humanity. A schemer who, in alliance with the Ninth Corpse, attempted to engulf both Quovadis and Bourgeois simultaneously.

Finally, the creature revealed its true colors.

‘The most beautiful among those expelled from the heavens, the worst fallen angel.’

Adorned with extravagant decorations and glittering wealth, but beneath the surface, its appearance is grotesque. Horns hanging from his massive head, lips absent, revealing sharp teeth beneath the exposed gums.

Lightning bolts spewing from its eyes, a smoky aura billowing out like a mountain of incense, a breath emanating a nauseating stench.

The crevasse on its head, resembling the crevices in the polar ice, split open, and the horns and wings extending on both sides were large enough to cover the entire battlefield. This enormous and hideous form, reminiscent of a puppet, floated above Bartolomeo’s lifeless body – this was the true form of Belial.

…Clang!

Vikir raised the demonic sword Beelzebub.

‘Fortunately, we met before he formed a legion.’

Deception, confusion, manipulation, sowing discord—Belial’s skills shine in large-scale battles. So, engaging it one-on-one is the best strategy to hunt it down.

Meanwhile, Decarabia continued to offer advice from Vikir’s chest.

[“It’s been a while since I’ve seen that fellow. The name ‘Belial’ is from the ancient magical nation’s dead language, meaning ‘worthless.’”]

[Hahahaha]

Baby madam, too, clung to Vikir’s shoulders, her body covered in bristling fur.

Her eyebrows raised defiantly, it was clear she considered her master’s enemy as her own enemy.

“Saintess, come here.”

Vikir positioned Dolores behind him. Dolores cautiously moved closer to Vikir.

Then, Belial spoke, its mouth opening.

[When the priests turned into a rebellious mob, abandoning their faith, there was no entity more worshiped than me in the temples and altars throughout the old magical nation.]

A mocking tone filled its words.

Indeed, Belial had already consumed nearly half of the Quovadis Clan.

“…Humbert.”

Dolores gritted her teeth.

Was Cardinal Humbert aware of Bartolomeo’s true identity as Belial, and still collaborated with the creature? Was he intentionally weakening the family while in alliance with the demon?

Recalling the unpleasant gaze of her father, Dolores shivered.

Humbert, undoubtedly human, was more fearsome to her than a demon.

Just then, a calm voice echoed.

“Do not be afraid.”

Dolores turned her head to find Night Hound standing confidently.

In an instant, Dolores recalled the time during the fight with Dantalian.

‘Yes, it was the same back then.’

When Dantalian with those bizarre pouches, extracted Humbert’s illusion, Dolores momentarily lost her strength, overwhelmed by fear and unease.

“There’s nothing to fear.”

Back then, with a word of encouragement from Night Hound, Dolores could dispel all her fears and find peace of mind.

“Thank you, Night Hound!”

Dolores clung closely to Vikir’s back, offering prayers while preparing for Belial’s demonic onslaught.

“The Lord is our strong fortress, a shield, and weapon in times of great trouble. Deliver us from evil!”

Paat—

A burst of white light erupted, enveloping Vikir like flames. It was a fierce blaze, but Vikir felt no heat whatsoever.

“Even in ancient times, the devil used his power for schemes and dominance. Who in the world could stand against it? Relying solely on my strength would lead to defeat. A powerful warrior steps forward to fight in my stead. Who might this warrior be? The sacred name is…”

While reciting the prayer, Dolores hesitated for a moment. Then, with a slight pause, she continued.

“…’Night Hound’! The Eternal Pilgrim! The Lord of all armies! Who shall fall before you? You shall surely prevail!”

Having finished her prayer, Dolores gripped Vikir’s back with trembling hands and, with a voice even shakier than her hands, said, “Um, it seems like the buff would work better if I knew your real name…”

Names hold power. Just being called invokes a peculiar energy that transcends dimensions, affecting both the spiritual and material realms. Therefore, demons do not casually reveal their true names.

Demon hunters, who pursue these demons, follow the same principle.

“This is sufficient.”

However, Vikir interrupted Dolores. It was not only to prevent her from becoming more entwined with him by revealing his name; there was another, more significant reason.

Qua-qua-qua-qua-thud!

Belial began its full-fledged attack. Belial’s body which was between tangible and intangible, delivered both spiritual and material attacks simultaneously.

[Pitiful humans dare challenge me!]

As typical of a demon lord, Belial uttered arrogant lines. However, Vikir, a seasoned hunter who had captured four demon lords to date, was unfazed.

“It’s going to be a little shaky.”

Vikir told Dolores, who had her hand on his back.

Before Dolores could respond…

Flash!

Vikir’s sword began to emit a crimson aura. The rapidly rotating aura formed seven large fangs and a slightly smaller eighth fang. The fangs moved fiercely, spinning like wagon wheels, and flew toward Belial’s main body, piercing through it.

Qua-qua-qua-qua-thud!

Baskerville’s Eighth Style.

A formidable blow that had turned Bartolomeo, once considered one of the strongest in the human realm, into a mere rag in an instant.

Even Belial, manifested in its true form, couldn’t help but be shocked.

[Gah! How can a human possess such power…!?]

Belial retreated with a perplexed tone. Vikir seized the opportunity he created by force.

“If there’s no opening, twist it open with strength.”

Eight fangs ruthlessly tore through Belial’s entire body. Moreover, Dolores’s buff, exerting her full spiritual power, magnified Vikir’s eighth fang even more.

…Wooz!

Belial’s teeth and horns shattered. Even his splendid and robust armor showed signs of cracking. Most notably, Bartolomeo’s body seemed unable to withstand the onslaught.

“My Eighth Style is not in its complete state. I must settle the battle in a short time!”

Vikir gritted his teeth and advanced.

In his mind, Hugo’s fight against Andromalius, and Cane Corso’s attack that shook the entire Sword tomb, resurfaced.

Meanwhile, Dolores’s buff from behind surged forward like a torrent!

…Flash!

Ignoring the strain on his body, Vikir swung Beelzebub to the fullest.

Ku-thud!

A massive shockwave rose, causing the golden mountains in the vicinity to collapse.

[Grrr… How can insignificant humans…!]

Belial, with broken parts all over its body, staggered backward. Vikir, receiving healing magic from Dolores, raised his sword again.

At that moment, Dolores expressed regret.

“…The buff doesn’t seem as potent as during the fight with Dantalian.”

She seemed to feel deep self-reproach for her weakened abilities. Understandably, the power of her buffs had significantly diminished compared to last time.

‘I’ve been working hard all this time… It seems like I’ve weakened instead.’

However, Vikir considered it natural.

“Awakening doesn’t happen so easily.”

The manifestation of divine power Dolores displayed during the Dantalian fight was a “miracle,” advancing her understanding of divine power decades ahead.

Although the exact reasons and conditions for awakening were unknown, relying solely on such luck for progress was futile.

Vikir continued to press Belial, wielding his sword relentlessly.

Just then…

[Hehehehe. Indeed. Killing my comrades wasn’t merely luck.]

Belial rose.

Surprisingly, during the brief distraction, he had regenerated most of his wounds and damage.

“…!”

Vikir delivered another strike.

Zzheujeujeuk—

It left another deep scar on Belial’s chest.

[Hehehehehe… Useless. Human. You’re still an insignificant worm.]

However, Belial showed no signs of being discouraged.

Eventually, it raised its large hands on both sides.

Suddenly, an unpleasant change began to occur.

Jalgrang-jalgrang-jalgrang-jalgrang-jalgrang-jalgrang—

Loud metallic sounds echoed everywhere.

Dolores, surprised, turned her head to see a flow of golden liquid in the direction she looked.

Charrurrurrururu…

The sound of money moving. Countless gold coins created ripples on the floor, crawling like a gigantic snake. The gathered coins, gems, and various treasures were absorbed into Belial’s body. Thud! Splat! Squish!

Belial’s broken horns regrew, and the body that had cracked and fissured returned to its original state. Moreover, its already massive size swelled even more.

[All the wealth in this vault is my life force! Money is power! Money is life! In a world ruled by capitalism, wealth is vitality!]

Upon hearing this, Dolores frowned. The vast amount of treasures piled up in this extensive vault, all stored as Belial’s reserve life force, was intricate and thorough.

Only now did Dolores understand why Belial insisted on drawing outsiders into the vault. It wasn’t merely to dampen the spirits of visitors. It was because this place was his absolute domain, where he could wield unrivaled authority, power, and vitality!

However…

“I already knew about that much.”

Vikir casually crumpled Belial’s demeanor with a nonchalant tone.

…Clank!

The demonic sword Beelzebub lengthened slightly. A fiery red aura began to blaze. Gradually, the gleam of the red eyes emanating from the black mask intensified, casting a gloomy glow.

“If money is your life…”

A boiling voice echoed through the sharp fangs of the hunting dog.

“…then let’s bankrupt you altogether.”

It was a declaration of war thrown at the ruler of the vast treasury.