The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound
chapter-406

Chapter 406: Escape (4)

Vikir fixed his gaze on the sword in front of him.

Though he couldn’t be certain of the sword’s identity, there were certainly recognizable features about it.

Long ago, a few legendary Demonic Weapons of unprecedented power existed beyond the demon realm and into the mortal realm.

Known as the ‘Seven Calamities,’ they were named after Seven Ancient Demon Kings.

And the remains of these seven demonic kings, whether material or conceptual, somehow lingered into the present, retaining a significant portion of their former power, beyond the reach of causality.

One of them was this sword, ‘Beelzebub.’

‘But there are six more besides this sword.’

Vikir thought as he looked at the crimson blade of Beelzebub protruding from his right wrist.

…And the sword in front of him was also one of the Seven Calamities.

Asmodeus, the demonic weapon. A wicked blade rivaling Beelzebub.

It’s one of the ultimate weapons brought by the demons in the later stages of the Great war.

‘Who would’ve thought it’d end up here.’

Vikir thought as he looked at the demonic weapon Asmodeus in front of him.

And the current owner of Asmodeus, Major Black Tounge, gazed at the twisted blade with an almost possessed look in his eyes.

“Once upon a time, I had a leech that I loved…… No, now that I think about it, maybe it wasn’t a leech at all, well, anyway.”

Major Black Tounge explained how he came to possess Asmodeus.

“That one had an insatiable thirst for blood. Quite greedy, it was. But the more it drank, the larger and stronger it became, to the point where it couldn’t be controlled.”

Major Black Tounge chuckled as he kissed Asmodeus.

“So, I tricked it, locked it up in a cell, and starved it to death. Poor thing suffered quite a bit, I imagine.”

“…”

“But you see, this fellow here… was so strong that no matter how long I kept it locked up, it wouldn’t die. Instead of hibernating for the winter, it just lay there, stiff as a board, not a twitch. Even after being left out to dry in the heat, it didn’t die, just dried up like jerky.”

“A lot of dried blood powder came out. But still, look how sharp it turned out, huh? It’s a beautiful sword.”

It’s astonishing that even after separating from the demon king, the craving for blood remained for such a long time, but what’s even more surprising is that there’s someone crazy enough to grind it into a sword.

‘So this is how the demonic sword Asmodeus came to be.’

Vikir admired the madness in Major Black Tounge’s eyes.

But it was just admiration as a spectator watching a show; the hunting dog merely observed its prey with its usual languid gaze.

“It’s best to be careful. That sword doesn’t serve unworthy masters. It’ll eagerly wait for an opportunity and turn the tables on you.”

He had seen many cases before the regression, where humans and demons alike became prey to that sword.

However, Vikir’s warning was naturally disregarded.

Major Black Tounge grinned and lifted Asmodeus.

“This fellow still thirsts for blood even after becoming this wreck. Yes, it craves your blood strongly.”

And it was true.

Asmodeus swelled as it drank Major Black Tounge’s blood, seeming to tremble as if it wanted to rush towards Vikir right then and there!

Eventually.

Clang!

The two demonic swords clashed.

“…”

Vikir swallowed a groan as he felt the weight through his wrist.

He couldn’t fathom how much this sword weighed.

It was certainly small in volume, but it weighed a ton, and its strength far exceeded that of any metal.

Like how a large chunk of flesh becomes small and tough when dried up.

And the sword itself was digging into odd angles, seeming to find openings.

It resembled a vampire, a head crazed for blood.

Swoosh-

Asmodeus avoided friction with Beelzebub and coiled like a whip.

Swish, swish!

As Beelzebub pierced Major Black Tounge’s chest, Asmodeus, in turn, stabbed Vikir’s thigh.

“Aargh!? You damned thing! You should protect your master before your dinner bowl!”

Major Black Tounge screamed, yet his mouth curved into a smile.

Madness. Truly, that master and that sword were a match made in heaven.

“…”

Vikir frowned.

Though the swords were rampaging on their own, it was all optimized for lethality.

Moreover, Major Black Tounge also possessed considerable swordsmanship.

Perhaps it was on par with Major D’ordume or Major Souare in terms of sheer combat prowess.

Tss, tss, tss…

Vikir tried to draw upon the thirst-quenching power within Beelzebub, but it was no match for Asmodeus’s bloodsucking ability.

Furthermore, Asmodeus was eagerly feasting on Vikir’s blood, even though it was tainted with Madam eight leg’s venom.

“You’re quite bothersome.”

Vikir muttered as he stepped back.

Major Black Tounge chuckled and followed Vikir.

“Scared? Afraid? Why run away?”

“…”

Vikir withdrew silently. It was a route to retrace his steps thus far. However, Major Black Tounge didn’t let Vikir escape.

“Fear blinds the eyes and ears, my friend.”

Simultaneously.

Crack!

Major Black Tounge’s arm twisted even more grotesquely.

“…!”

Vikir saw Asmodeus, twist at an even harsher angle.

Major Black Tounge smiled.

“Isn’t it obvious? The more blood it drinks, the more flexible it becomes.”

Just like how jerky becomes softer as it absorbs water.

Asmodeus was no different.

Twisting its body even more unpredictably than before, Asmodeus lunged at Vikir’s face.

“…!”

Vikir quickly turned his head, but Major Black Tounge’s subtle swordsmanship succeeded in pushing Asmodeus even deeper.

Thunk!

Vikir’s ear was torn off completely.

It was a grievous injury, to the extent that organs like the cochlea and semicircular canals were ripped out along with it.

“Urgh-”

A groan escaped Vikir’s lips, the pain indescribable, akin to having a cotton swab shoved deep into your ear and it punctures your eardrum, except it was torn out entirely.

Tss, tss, tss…

The basilisk’s regeneration quickly healed the wound, but it would take time to regenerate the intricate organs within.

Wobbling-

With his inner ear a mess, his sense of balance and spatial awareness naturally faltered.

Major Black Tounge, with a grin full of madness, lunged at Vikir, mouth wide open, aiming for his neck.

“Chomp, chomp, chomp, chomp! Die, NIGHT HOUND!”

Vikir swung his sword towards Major Black Tounge, desperately.

Swish, swish, swish, swish!

The deafening sound of the blade swinging in all directions.

But none of them touched Major Black Tounge.

No, not even close, as they flew off in entirely wrong directions.

“Die, Die, Die! You’ve become a complete idiot!”

Major Black Tounge mocked Vikir as he swung his sword aimlessly towards the wrong direction.

…Thud!

Pressing down fiercely on Vikir, Major Black Tounge’s body had grown more than twice its original size due to excitement.

The leeches covering his body bubbled and boiled, representing its heightened state of excitement.

With saliva dripping down, Major Black Tounge taunted Vikir, perched on top of him.

“Now that such a commotion has occurred, it’s a big deal, isn’t it? Who knows, maybe D’ordume or Souare will come. Oh, perhaps even Orca, that old man, might directly intervene. How does it feel? Anxious? Sweating cold? Is the room spinning?”

However.

“Hmm. That wouldn’t do.”

D’ordume or Souare might be manageable, but Orca was a different story.

In response to Major Black Tounge’s banter, Vikir replied briefly.

“I’ve wasted too much time cause those special leeches intrigued me. But it seems there’s no more time to play around.”

As Major Black Tounge made a puzzled expression, Vikir raised his left hand.

“…!?”

Major Black Tounge’s eyes bulged as if they were about to burst.

The leather pouch filled with the special leech eggs was now in Vikir’s hand.

“Well then.”

Vikir bid a short farewell.

Simultaneously.

…Crash!

An upheaval occurred in the corridor.

The walls, floor, and ceiling of the corridor were all covered with sword marks, following the traces of Vikir’s recent swings.

Swish, swish, swish!

A section of the corridor was completely cut open, along with the Flubber mucus that wrapped around the building’s exterior.

“…Huh?”

For a moment, Major Black Tounge felt the ground beneath him, or rather, the entire space he occupied, moving.

Like a slice of cake falling off, the entire space where Major Black Tounge had been positioned was moving away from the corridor.

Swoooosh-

The seawater of the abyss rushed in.

“Ugh!? Th-this is nothing! I just need to swim back!” Major Black Tounge, taken aback by its sudden plunge into the sea, flailed its arms and legs in panic.

At that moment.

“…!”

Major Black Tounge saw it.

The hunting dog preparing to leap towards him.

“The bothersome one is…”

Vikir unleashed the power he had been holding back…

Baskerville 8th Style: Black Sun.

The intensely concentrated aura formed a black sphere, sucking everything in.

…Swirling!

The approaching seawater formed whirlpools, and trapped in their center, Major Black Tounge was rendered helpless.

And the hunting dog, having gained absolute superiority, delivered the final verdict towards him.

“Suffer.”

It was simple and clear.