The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound
chapter-491

Chapter 491: The Hound Runs (2)

A bloodline of the imperial family, possessing abilities in astrology, astronomy, and various forms of future foresight.

The one who inherited the ability to see the future- passed down from the founding emperor who established the empire, was none other than the first crown prince, Jack.

And now, Andras had taken Jack's body as his host, amplifying that bloodline’s power to its utmost limits.

[Cough!]

From beneath the sagging jaw embedded in the chest, fragments of decayed organs and blackened, dead blood gush out in choked bursts.

Cracks spread across his entire body, glowing a fierce red.

Tsss, tsss, tsss...

Andras’ body slowly crumbled, bit by bit, like volcanic ash that has been completely incinerated.

Yet.

[...I can see it!]

Even in this state, Andras emitted a dark magical energy from his eyes like black clouds.

The flow of mana converged into a crimson vein.

These veins then gathered once more to form the shape of a giant eyeball.

The eyeball, floating high in the air, gazed down upon the ground with a terrifying glare.

As his physical life neared it’s end, this one wicked demon squeezed out every last drop of his dwindling life force, displaying an unprecedented, extreme level of foresight.

[I see it! I see your future!]

And then, an eerily precise vision of the future emerged from the crown prince’s body, so accurate that even a demon would shudder.

A swamp of blood and flesh, a mountain made of bones, an atmosphere where all mana has dried up, and a massive mushroom cloud rising beyond the distant horizon.

Up to this point, it was a common sight from the era of destruction, Vikir had seen it several times even within the Abyss Tree.

After all, this was exactly how Vikir’s mental world appeared within the lingering thoughts of Amdusias.

However, the scenes unfolding now were undoubtedly things Vikir had never experienced before.

...An endless, barren desert.

...A giant tower rising in the middle of the desert.

...An old man in black clothes, walking alone and desolately toward the tower.

These fragmented visions pierced Vikir's mind.

They were unfamiliar memories that Vikir had never directly experienced.

Yet, at the same time, they were memories he had indirectly encountered a few times before.

‘...Was it when I faced Amdusias in the Abyss tree? These are definitely the scenes I saw when Figgy’s blood sealed the Abyss. And also when I faced Chimera.’

A burning world, the era of destruction.

The ground melting, and the breath of all living things turning to ash, marking the end of times.

But the future that Andras' blood was showing went far beyond those landscapes.

[I see it! I see your future, where you’ve grown old with time! I see your shadow, left alone in isolation!]

Of course, the scenes Andras saw were also visible to Vikir.

An endless, desolate desert. An old man hastening his lonely steps, with no one around him.

Whenever his long, gray beard and the hem of his black robe fluttered in the dry wind, he coughed dryly.

There was no one, no one at all, around the old man as he crossed the vast desert.

Several fleeting images flashed by behind him, but they passed too quickly to be seen clearly.

[I see it! I see it clearly! You may cherish your relationships with those around you now, but in the end, you’ll be alone! In your old age, left alone in solitude, wandering without roots, that’s your fate!]

Only Andras bursted into maniacal laughter.

Meanwhile, the scenes continued to flow rapidly.

The old man crossed the desert.

He looked lonely and forlorn as he braved the fierce winds and swift sandstorms.

[I see it! You’re being chased! You’re fleeing from those pursuing you!]

His long beard fluttered in the sandstorm.

The old man suddenly stopped as he spotted something towering on the endless desert horizon.

It’s a tower, a single tower thrusting upward like a sharp sword.

Andras’s bloodshot eyes gleam menacingly.

[You will keep running, fleeing those who chase you, until the very end! A life filled with solitude and loneliness! But those who hunt you will eventually find you! They will reach where you are! You cannot escape them, not now, not ever! Ha ha ha—I can see it! I see the furious faces of those who pursue you! I see your miserable future, forever bound and shackled by them!]

These words naturally triggered Vikir’s memories of trauma from his previous life.

The memory of running while falsely accused.

The memory of being caught by the hunting dogs of the Baskerville family.

The memory of being dragged to the guillotine, leaving a trail of blood on the ground.

The memory of finally being beheaded.

Cold sweat trickled down Vikir’s face.

And then, Andras foretold Vikir's ultimate fate.

[In the end, you will be torn into five pieces!]

Dismemberment, an ancient and gruesome form of execution popularized by the Emperor of the Demon Empire during the Warring States era.

Vikir had narrowly avoided this punishment before being sentenced to the guillotine in his past life, so the mention of it sent shivers down his spine.

"......"

The hunting dog gritted his teeth.

He found it hard to breathe. His lungs shrank with cold sweat, and his mind began to grow hazy.

‘Cradle’ and ‘Tomb.’

…The time between these two points at the ends of life’s timeline is what we call life.

But what kind of life had it been?

And again, between the ‘Tomb’ and the ‘Cradle.’

Vikir recalled the pivotal memories that connected the end of his first life with the beginning of his second.

Vikir.

He had struggled all his life.

Always struggling.

A bastard child. The son of a concubine.

Even his middle name, “Van,” reflected his status.

Unlike his half-siblings who were born into the Baskerville family with surnames like “La” or “Le,” Vikir had to fight a thousand times harder to earn his place.

But the end had not been kind to him.

He had crossed countless life-and-death situations, but in the end, luck had abandoned him.

Falsely accused of being a spy for the demons, he was executed in an unjust death.

At that moment, the hunting dog had one desperate thought.

He wanted to live.

He wanted to be reborn.

…And a miracle happened.

Wahhh—

As if the flap of a butterfly's wings in his previous life flapped one more time, a tiny, insignificant change.

But the outcome of that change shook the world.

…Of course, he didn’t achieve it alone.

When he thought of all the faces, the many who fought alongside him to help him reach this point, he knew he couldn’t just sit there, drenched in cold sweat.

“I will kill the demon.”

Despite the terrifyingly accurate predictions, Vikir didn’t lose his resolve.

He had no time to be lost in thoughts when his comrades were out there, risking their lives in a bloody battle against the monsters outside the palace.

A mere mantis cannot stop the giant wheel of causality.

But even so, he had to do everything in his power to resist the reality before him.

It was a far better choice than to succumb to the demon’s trickery.

But Andras laughed with his mouth wide open.

Even in his final moments, he lashed out with his blackened tongue towards Vikir.

[Think carefully, for all that awaits you at the end is a ‘Tomb!’ A terrifying fate of being torn into five pieces, body and soul, awaits you! But if you change your mind even now, you could alter this future!]

The demon never ceased his mockery of humans, not even at the last moment.

…*Huff!*

Simultaneously, a thick darkness rose from Andras's entire body.

Within that darkness, all the visions Vikir had witnessed so far, including Nymphet, began to emerge.

Comrades he couldn't save, friends who had gone ahead, and the countless dead he had mourned—all were staring at Vikir.

Just as before, they raised their sharp tongues like daggers aimed at him.

But then…

…*Flash!*

The red light radiating from Vikir's eyes pierced through the essence of every illusion.

Nothing but emptiness.

A void as dark as the abyss of dark magic itself.

Vikir suddenly realized.

Andras was nothing in the end.

A hollow being.

Simply a raven, like the one in that eerie midnight visit, preying upon a weary and worn-out soul.

"……."

Vikir, for a moment, hesitated to utter his usual mantra, “The demon dies.”

The emotions boiling within him couldn’t be satisfied by those words alone.

The hatred for demons that had built up over two lifetimes, the guilt towards himself, the regrets over what could never be achieved, the lingering feelings and guilt towards those he had known, and the complex thoughts about his father, Hugo.

All these emotions swelled within him, filling his lungs with a suffocating mix of frustration, anger, and sorrow.

…*Crack!*

Vikir drew his sword, its length glinting in the darkness.

He charged forward, cutting through the illusions before him, and unleashed the old, festering emotions from his chest, expelling them from his throat with a violent roar.

[……!?]

Andras’ eyes widened in shock, as if they would tear apart.

Slash!

Vikir’s sword descended like a bolt of lightning.

The final leap that sliced through the void. The will of a human.

Just before the head of the last demon, the ultimate enemy, was severed from its body and sent flying into the distance…

The hunting dog, who had spent a lifetime hunting down demons, exhaled with a sense of relief and spoke for the first time from a place of personal sentiment.

“Screw you.”

It was the first time he had ever expressed his own personal feelings.