The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound
chapter-322

Chapter 322: Dogma (2)

Dogma, the third-year student at Colosseo Academy, and the vice-student council president.

…No, now he’s Dogma, the leader of the commoner faction.

He climbed up the roots of the Abyss Tree with a long straw he obtained from the random box in 3rd floor.

After sucking the sap accumulated deep within with the straw, he poured it into a bottle he brought along.

As he descended from the roots of the Abyss Tree, the raucous cheers of other commoner students followed.

Dogma poured the collected sap into a rain barrel.

“It’s diluted, but we should all share it together, right?”

With a smirk, Dogma’s words elicited bright smiles and nods from the other students.

But that heartwarming atmosphere belonged solely to the commoners. It was entirely theirs.

Few people were right next to them… But they didn’t share that warmth.

They had been nobles not long ago.

They crawled on the ground like slaves, chained, picking up scraps and cleaning the ashes around the campfire.

They were the triplets.

Highbro le Baskerville. Middlebro le Baskerville. Lowbro le Baskerville.

The three pillars of Baskerville were here.

“…”

“…”

“…”

All three bore severe signs of beatings.

Silently, Dogma’s shadow loomed over the triplets toiling away.

“Hey. Do you guys want to have some of this too?”

Dogma shook the bottle containing the diluted sap.

“Then come here and crawl like dogs.”

Dogma sat on a rotten log, tapping his fingers.

Highbro was the first to prostrate himself on the ground.

Then, crawling on all fours, he approached Dogma’s feet.

*Thwack*

Dogma slapped Highbro’s face.

“Why? Are you feeling bad because you got slapped by a commoner you used to look down on like a bug?”

“…”

“You guys were lucky to be born into Baskerville. You’ve enjoyed good food, good clothes, and a comfortable, luxurious life, right?”

“…”

“But not me. I was born under poor, powerless parents and lived my whole life sneaking around like a rat. I had bad luck.”

“…”

“But after entering the Tower, luck turned for me. Why should I feel sorry when those who looked down on me daily are now less than dogs to me?”

Finishing his speech, Dogma rolled a round bead between his fingers.

Red. It was the strange candy that boosted the strength stat.

“I got lucky in the tower. I gained strength by eating the candies that my friends dropped as they died. I was reborn in this tower, and it taught me the hard way the value of starting from scratch..”

After becoming slightly, just a tad stronger than the surrounding students, Dogma relentlessly worked to maintain that slight edge in the early stages. He snatched any visible candies without fail.

Later on, he shared a bit of candies with other commoners and became the leader in all the conflicts.

As a result of creating and then disrupting several groups, he gained overwhelming power.

“You damn nobles, have been sucking our blood every day, so you should be prepared for this.”

Dogma kept kicking Highbro’s head and side with his foot.

“You told me to fetch water every time, didn’t you?”

“…”

“You took my books and clothes and never returned them, didn’t you?”

“…”

“You all copy my assignments every time? You even submitted them before me and got me accused of plagiarism. Thanks to you, my first year was the worst. Nobody sat next to me during the field trip, and nobody showed me their sheets during exams. Everyone just kept their distance. Ah, it was truly a miserable and lonely time.”

Dogma is in his third year.

Even though Highbro wasn’t at Colosseo Academy during Dogma’s first year, nobody made an issue out of it because that wasn’t the essence of the matter.

“Gordon… I should have met that guy in this Tower. Well, considering he’s a good-for-nothing who has nothing but good parents, he probably would have been devoured by Hellhounds or the flower by now. Haha-”

Suddenly, Gordon’s voice echoed vividly in Dogma’s mind.

‘Wow, Dogma! You draw exceptionally well! Who made this drawing? Ah, It’s Dolores? Hey, Dolores! Look at this! He drew you. Do you like it? Everyone pay attention! Our friend Dogma is making a big announcement right now! Well, he did draw Dolores, but… Although the facial features are similar, the body appears to be slightly different from reality. Is any part exaggerated? Oh, it seems to reflect personal taste… Huh? Hey, what’s wrong? Why are you so angry? Why are you glaring? It’s only a joke. Chill out~’

In an instant…

*Crack!*

Dogma’s eyes turned bloodshot.

He had abilities, ambition, and worked hard enough. But he had always been suppressed due to the luck he hadn’t been born with. However, within this Tower, that wasn’t necessary anymore. Slaves, commoners, servants, bastards – everyone received equal opportunities. The hated poverty and incompetence of his parents no longer hindered him.

There was no longer any need to be left behind in grades for diligently studying only to be surpassed by a wealthy classmate who had a well-muscular body filled with all sorts of potions.

There was no longer any devaluation of achievements made through blood, sweat, and tears just because they were slightly lower in numerical rankings, just because they were pushed out of a few arrangements.

We have moved from a society in which putting in even a little effort was punishable to one in which putting in a little effort can result in a small reward.

What a wonderful world.

“The devil’s world would be much fairer. This side suits me better.”

Dogma trembled with enthusiasm for the current reality.

At that moment…

*Gurgle-*

A sound caught his attention.

Of course, the sound didn’t come from Dogma’s belly. It was coming from Highbro’s stomach. It was only natural, considering he hadn’t had a sip of water for over three days.

Dogma smirked and said, “Hey. If you want to have this, you better prostrate yourself flatter and beg me.”

Upon hearing this, Highbro wordlessly slammed his head onto the ground.

“More.”

At Dogma’s command, Highbro bowed his head even deeper.

So much so that his forehead almost buried into the sandy ground.

And then…

*Ptu!*

Dogma spat into the bottle containing the sap.

Then, he turned around and chuckled.

“Friends. Our dogs here are hungry, so let’s all pitch in a little and help them out.”

“Oh? Sounds good!”

With that, commoner students gathered around.

More than twenty people spat into the bottle.

“I’ll give you my share. Ka-ak! Ptuh!”

“Grrrggh! Urgh-”

“You’re giving too much. At this rate, there won’t be anything left. Haha- Pteh!”

“Ptu! Pteh!”

As saliva from over twenty mouths mixed with the sap, foam began bubbling vigorously.

“If you want to drink, then drink this. Fucking trash.”

Dogma chuckled as he left it on the ground and walked away.

“…”

“…”

“…”

Highbro, Middlebro, and Lowbro sat around the glass bottle.

“Damn it. Do we really have to go this far? Eat this kind of stuff? I’d rather die. I’ll die and distribute my stats to you guys. Then maybe you can cut off at least one of his wrists.”

Lowbro’s voice simmered with rage.

Middlebro remained silent, but he seemed to share his brother’s sentiments.

However…

“…”

Highbro just silently gripped the bottle’s neck.

Eventually…

*Gulp, gulp, gulp-*

After precisely drinking one-third of it, Highbro set the bottle down.

When Middlebro and Lowbro looked at him with widened eyes, Highbro casually replied.

“Why do you think I slammed my head?”

A chilling voice, enough to send shivers down one’s spine.

Highbro sent a cold glance towards his brothers.

“Death is the end.”

“…”

“The notion of heroes sacrificing themselves for their pride is a fantasy concocted by the lower class. True heroes who left their mark in history would laugh and endure much worse humiliation if it meant seizing an opportunity.”

During the Warring States era, before the continent was unified, amidst the whirlpool of wars where hundreds of nations rose and fell every day, there were many individuals who left their mark in history.

Among them, those whose private lives were not honorable stood out.

Those who sold their bodies to old, lecherous merchants to fund rebel armies, those who crawled under the beds of mere jesters to lull enemies into complacency, those who changed fathers thrice, those who sacrificed their sons to satisfy a lord’s palate, those who acted as personal physicians, assessing the health of enemies while awaiting an opportunity for assassination,

They willingly endured disgrace and became great heroes in history.

“It’s said that revenge is a dish best-served cold. It’s never too late.”

Highbro’s words were met with nods from Middlebro and Lowbro.

“…”

“If only we hadn’t discriminated against or harassed the commoners in the first place.”

“Well, we didn’t? It was others. And our childhood was terribly cruel too. We lost several brothers, remember?”

Middlebro and Lowbro swallowed all the saliva-laden sap.

They had to eat such things to survive.

“…I think I prefer this over the Haggis we had at home.”

“Yeah. I agree on that point.”

“Me too.”

Just then…

“…Looks like it won’t work after all.”

A eerie voice came from behind.

When the triplets turned their heads, they saw Dogma, his bloodshot eyes glaring down at them.

“Just came to check, didn’t expect you guys would actually eat that.”

“…”

“You guys are a dangerous bunch. Willing to endure and tolerate the present for the sake of the future…”

Dogma was also a clever man. Rising from humble origins, he even served as vice president of the student council.

And all the more did he understand.

‘Do the well-born have venom too? It can’t be! Venom is the prerogative of underdogs like me! Why do you have even this? You already have everything! At least get fat and act stupid like the rest of us! That way, I can still feel mentally superior to you!’

Various thoughts echoed in Dogma’s mind.

In an instant…

“…!”

Dogma’s eyes met Highbro’s.

Highbro’s gaze wasn’t directed at Dogma.

It was aimed farther, much higher. What could it be?

Great achievement? Grand destiny? Something lofty and intangible that a commoner like himself couldn’t even comprehend?

The eye level of dreams. The dimension of magnanimity. The strength of fortitude. Viewing the present and envisioning the future from different layers.

Dogma felt it in Highbro’s gaze…

And he recoiled once again.

“Worthless trash that has nothing but luck!”

But he also knew the truth.

How he had belittled the achievements of the nobles, treating their inherited luck as nothing, and even sending them disdainful looks, was a form of reverse discrimination.

Furthermore, within the Tower, the characteristics, discretion, fortitude, insight, and pride shown by some nobles couldn’t be dismissed as mere stats inherited as intangible assets.

“From here on, we’ll take over.”

“You guys stay out of it. Stronger individuals should take the forefront.”

“Weaklings, flee! I’ll show them what Noblesse Oblige means!”

“…Run everyone, I’ll be the prey!”

Dogma heard the voices of familiar figures as he fled from Hellhound and the bloodsoaked jade flower,

“…No. That can’t be true. This world is perfectly fair. I will be rewarded for everything.”

Dogma drew his well-crafted longsword from his hip.

He was ready to strike down the triplets at any moment.

Seeing the sharp tip of the sword, Highbro shrugged as if resigned to fate.

“No choice. Two of us will die, and one will inherit the stats.”

“…No choice.”

“…No choice.”

In the end, the triplets’ opinions aligned for the first time in a long while.

Just then…

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing!?”

A sharp cry came from beyond the pile of trees.

It was the voices of those who had gone to spread the sap.

“Who drank that sap without permission?”

“It was our turn this time!”

“Who the fuck are you?!”

The sap is the island’s only food and resource. It’s the biggest taboo to mess with it.

Even Dogma was desperate enough to quickly turn and run away.

And soon…

“…!”

“…!”

“…!”

The Baskerville triplets could only widen their eyes in astonishment.

A familiar face. Though younger than them, he was still the lord they had pledged to serve for the rest of their lives. Regardless of levels, stats, or any other measure, he was inherently a powerful being.

“What about the other survivors?”

It was Vikir.