Revenge of the Iron-blooded Sword Hound

[Translator - Clara]

[Proofreader - Lucky ]

Chapter 474: The Annihilation of Tochka (4)

Even if each person throws just one stone, the number becomes countless.

A lot of people had climbed onto Tochka’s fortress walls and began to hurl stones with all their might.

Tochka was a fortress built on rocky terrain, where stones were scattered everywhere.

An overwhelming number of stones.

Thud- Thud- Thud- Thud-

Naturally, the impact was immense.

Crash!

The poison humans who were climbing the walls had their heads shattered and tumbled down.

The rockfall shower was as powerful as the hail that Andrealphus had unleashed, causing the forces to falter in their full-scale assault.

"Now! Tighten the flanks!"

Marquis Sade and Orca realized that this was the last chance for a counterattack that might never come again.

At that moment, the two seasoned warriors led their remaining troops out and began to press the poison humans from the left and right wings, areas unaffected by the rockfall.

Vikir, too, was rushing to corner the poison humans.

It was a battle more intense than any they had ever experienced.

It was VIkir’s most savage fight, even counting the ones from his past life.

Thud!

Vikir decapitated a massive poison human blocking his path and thought:

'…I must ride this momentum and sever the demon's neck.'

That was the only way to end the war.

Vikir led the Six Counts across a river of countless poison humans.

Boom!

The poison humans tore the ground with their massive hands.

Vikir sidestepped to avoid a descending poison human’s hand.

Slash-

Vikir decapitated the poison human in one fell swoop.

At that moment.

"……!"

Vikir felt a chilling sensation on the back of his neck.

It wasn't an uncommon feeling on the battlefield; it was merely a signal that an enemy was attacking from behind.

Usually, he would just dodge to the side.

...But what happened next was truly unique.

Thud!

With a dull noise, the cold sensation on the back of his neck vanished.

The poison human who had reached out from behind was dead.

Vikir tried to turn his head to see who had killed it, but it was impossible, attacks were coming from everywhere.

Slash- Slash! Thud!

Vikir extended his demonic sword Beelzebub and cut down every poison human in his path.

And the more he did, the more strange things kept happening.

...! ...! ...!

The poison humans approaching Vikir from behind kept falling one after another.

‘Someone is covering my back.’

Vikir, though busy, glanced back, but the rapidly shifting scenery and the rain of blood and stones made it impossible to see who was behind him.

[Hmm- It's too fast, I can't see clearly?]

Even Decarabia couldn’t figure out who was currently protecting Vikir’s back.

But one thing was certain:

Thud! Crash! Snap!

Someone was almost perfectly covering Vikir’s rear as he advanced.

‘Who is it? Camus? Aiyen? Dolores? Sinclaire? Kirko?’

But they had already moved far away to other parts of the battlefield.

The counts, who had been following right behind, had also fallen behind long ago, exhausted.

‘…For now, I have no choice but to trust whoever it is and keep going.’

Vikir decided to trust the mysterious ally who had been flawlessly guarding his back throughout the battle.

...Flash!

Vikir bared his eight fangs at a massive poison human that appeared before him.

At that moment,

Clang- Screech!

Vikir's hand stopped in mid-air.

A poison human had surprisingly blocked Vikir's sword.

The soldier was a grotesquely twisted giant.

Vikir immediately recognized the figure.

"…The eldest son of the Reviadon family. Juskin, is it?"

Once a promising talent, hailed as the future pillar of the Empire.

But now, he was nothing more than a twisted, venom-spewing demon.

Crunch!

Despite being slashed by Vikir's attack, Juskin—no, the creature that was once Juskin—did not fall and continued to endure.

It opened its mouth wide, displaying terrifying strength and regeneration as it pushed against Vikir's blade.

‘This size and regeneration... This won’t be easy.’

Vikir furrowed his brow, preparing to muster more power.

...Flash!

A strike followed the exact path of Vikir's previous slash.

Baskerville Eight Style.

Eight fangs descended precisely along the mark Vikir had made.

Boom!

Juskin's massive body shattered on the spot.

As chunks of flesh and blood rained down, Vikir realized who had been supporting him all along.

A figure with red eyes that seemed to reflect Vikir’s own, swathed in black winds, with a beard grown from the rigors of battle.

Hugo le Baskerville, the Patriarch of the Iron-Blooded Sword Clan, and the lord of all hounds, stood there.

Father and son, both baring the eight fangs, faced each other in silence.

“......”

“......”

Hugo was the first to break the silence.

Swish-

He swung the famous sword "Balmung," which had been returned to him by the Bourgeois Clan, shaking off the blood.

Then, with an air of nonchalance, he spoke,

"You've grown well. Even though I didn’t do anything for you."

Vikir paused for a moment at those words.

He wanted to say something but couldn’t find the right words.

“......”

That brief silence was the end.

Hugo, who seemed ready to say more, closed his mouth and turned away.

He then displayed the full mastery of the Eighth Style he had somehow attained.

Crash!

A strike that split both earth and sky swept through the poison humans.

Vikir quickly realized that now was not the time for idle thoughts.

Soon, father and son stood back to back, swinging their swords in unison.

Vikir struck, and Hugo pierced the gap left behind.

Hugo stabbed, and Vikir slashed the remaining openings.

In the heat of battle, having someone you can trust with your back makes all the difference.

As they gradually turned the tide of the battle, a strange and awkward silence hung between them, alongside the blood and flesh flying through the air.

Just then,

[Hahahaha!]

Laughter echoed from beyond the battlefield.

Vikir instantly recognized its source.

Phlorosya, the root of all evil.

He was laughing, eyes gleaming as he looked at Vikir.

“Go on, struggle all you want! My poison is limitless!”

Phlorosya seemed eager to prove his words as he brought forth a massive cart from behind.

A cart covered with a black canopy.

It was the same poison recharge station Vikir had seen before while attempting to seize the water source.

Roar!

The poison humans began to withdraw from the walls of Tochka Fortress one by one.

They were likely retreating to the black canopy to gain more strength and poison.

“With this, I can create infinite soldiers! Even corpses can rise again under my poison!”

Phlorosya shouted confidently.

…At least, until the explosion and deafening roar interrupted him.

Boom!

The poison recharge station, which had been replenishing the poison humans' venom, was now engulfed in flames.

And it was happening in real-time!

“……?”

Vikir tilted his head, bewildered.

Why was the poison station exploding at this moment?

But it seemed Phlorosya was even more perplexed.

He quickly turned around, his face contorted in disbelief.

“What… What is this!? Why is my Ouroboros…!?”

In that instant, both Vikir and Phlorosya saw a familiar face.

The Reaper. The youngest son of the Reviadon Clan, Granola de Reviadon.

He stood before the shattered urn under the burning canopy, a sorrowful expression on his face.

‘I often wonder if I’m living well… sometimes I feel deep doubt.’

‘…Tch, why would you have such doubts? I’m always doing fine! One must live with confidence!’

Granola mumbled, looking dazed as he noticed Sinclaire among the people that had followed Vikir.

“...Yes. One must live with confidence.”

His voice sounded as if he were recalling a distant memory.

As Sinclaire tilted her head in curiosity,

Slash!

From the boiling oil, two serpents suddenly leaped out.

Despite the horrific burns frying their bodies, the Ouroboros used the last of its strength to bite Granola’s neck, pulling him into the urn.

Hissssss

The boiling oil sloshed within the large urn, and soon, silence fell over the burning tent.

Watching the tent go up in flames, Phlorosya screamed in disbelief.

[No! This worthless worm dares to betray me…!?]

An unexpected and absurd twist of events.

But Phlorosya couldn’t finish his sentence.

“...Last time, I only took your arm.”

A chilling voice whispered in his ear.

“This time, you’ll leave your head behind.”

Vikir had silently crept up behind him.

[Translator - Clara]

[Proofreader - Lucky ]

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