Chapter 432: The Returned Hound (1)  

[...Demons kill]

Vikir muttered in a low voice.

Dolores and the other graduates of the Colosseo Academy were surprised to see such Vikir, but then they realized.

That's not Vikir. It's a fragment of the imaginary world, that were not yet disposed of when Amdusias was eliminated four years ago.

The residual thoughts remaining within it are merely imitating the image of Vikir.

"... But even so."

"It really does look like Vikir."

Tudor and Bianca broke out in a cold sweat.

While everyone has changed a lot in the past four years, both internally and externally, Vikir in front of them is the same person he was four years ago.

"Now that I think about it, Vikir was so young."

"He must have been hunting those terrifying demons in his young body."

Sancho and Piggy both groaned.

"...."

"...."

Dolores and Sinclair remained speechless.

Their gazes were tinged with sadness, wistfulness, and longing as they stared at the residual thoughts that had once been part of Vikir's subconscious.

But.

Then something happened that shattered all of their tender feelings.

[...Demons kill!]

Vikir's residual thoughts.

The ego that was once a part of Vikir's inner self began to swing its sword in their direction.

kwa-kwakwakwakwakwang!

A terrifying blow swept across the land.

Everyone, including Dolores, hurriedly fled, feeling a sense of sadness.

That's right. Now was not the time for them to pity Vikir.

No matter how devastated Vikir was inside, he was an absolute force at the peak of his Swordmaster powers.

"Uuuuuh- why are you attacking us!"

"Ugh, it's because he's been trapped in here for the past four years? he's so aggressive."

Tudor and Bianca were in the front, so they were the first to be attacked.

Kwagigigigigig-!

The sight of teeth flying and tearing in all directions made them feel like small herbivores being hunted by a giant beast.

Overwhelming fear. A sense of power that they couldn't resist. Instincts screaming like crazy. Run away now!

Grumbling-

A fierce storm of teeth, an aura like a black, blazing fire.

Vikir's eyes, tearing between them, blazing with nothing but an infernal void.

It was a terrifying glare that one could only think of avoiding, but not the will to fight back.

[...Demons kill].

A fiery hatred for the demon.

But it's not just demons that it's burning, it's everything in the world.

" ...That's right. Because there are only demons in this world, and he moves to kill everything he encounters."

Dolores gritted her teeth.

The size of the peaks and mountain ranges that rose up behind them was an indication of the burden and responsibility Vikir carried.

Perhaps he carries more on his shoulders than any mere mortal would dare to imagine.

'I've felt it since the first time I saw you, Night Hound.'

A feeling Dolores had vaguely sensed in the distance as he served the sick in the slums.

It was a feeling that Dolores was now firmly reaffirming.

Meanwhile, Sinclair was analyzing Vikir in detail.

"I think that's what it is."

"That? What is that?"

"...A humanoid creature that lives only for battle. A crystallization of the residual thoughts of a noble knight blackened."

Sinclair answered Bianca's question while wiping off a cold sweat.

"The Death Knight."

At that, everyone's heads snapped up to look at Vikir's face.

"One. ...one. ...two. ...three. ...four. ...five. ...six. ...seven. ...eight."

Then they counted the number of teeth Vikir was currently showing.

Vikir, who fought Amdusias with a whistle during the events of the Hell Tree.

Everyone clearly remembered the path of the teeth drawn by his sword at that time. Eight. That was the number of teeth Vikir had drawn.

And now, in front of them, the number of teeth Vikir was drawing.

"...Nine."

Nine.

Vikir was drawing nine teeth with the tip of his sword.

kwa-kwakwakwakwakwakwakwakwang!

Nine streaks of teeth ripped through the earth and sky, tearing them apart.

Disorder and no rules. However, as far as destructive power goes, the swordsmanship is truly formidable.

"Ugh, this is what we have to dodge to survive in this barren world?"

"I can see why the fragment of Amdusias dried up earlier."

Tudor and Bianca took a sharp step back.

Baskerville 9th Form.

Vikir's remnants of consciousness, which were able to use it, spewed out terrifying killing intent and turned his head left and right.

...udeug! ...udeudeug!

No matter how they look at it, it does not belong to a living human being.

It was as if a fragment of Vikir's self had achieved some sort of awakening after all the fighting and suffering it had endured while wandering this doomed world.

"We have no choice but to fight."

Dolores said, biting her lip.

paas!

Eventually, a sacred wall blocked Vikir's path.

[...?]

Vikir's remnants of consciousness are startled by the energy that is completely different from that of the demon.

However.

Bam!

There are no exceptions. The Death Knight destroys everything in its path.

Baskerville 4th Form. Four strands of strikes pounded Dolores's shields.

"Brother!"

Sinclair joined the battle.

She pulled up the gold vein from beneath the ground and added her own golden defense wall to Dolores' sacred defense wall.

kukung-

A terrifying impact ripped through the barrier, tearing it apart.

The moment.

"...!" freewebno(v)el

"...!"

Dolores and Sinclair felt waves of intense emotions surging through their minds.

And Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca, who were picking up the pieces of their auras, must have felt the same thing.

Every time the swords meet and blood splatters, a wave of emotion rushes through their heart as if it were cutting into their heart.

That is the emotional wound that Vikir has suffered throughout his life.

It wasn't physical, but a collection of emotions: pain, solitude, hatred, loneliness, sadness, and loss.

"...!"

Everyone was focused on the visible pain, not the shadow of emotion that lay beneath.

The resolve that Vikir always carried in his heart, and the past that he relived over and over again, filled everyone's minds.

Empathy. In the truest sense of the word.

Dolores, Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinclair realized.

The loneliness of being raised as hounds amidst all the discrimination.

The loss of comrades-in-arms who were the only ones who cared.

The grief of being betrayed by those you trusted.

The desolation of being abandoned and executed by your loyal master.

The helplessness of watching so many of the people you tried to protect die like trash.

Lost, tortured, fighting, biting, dying, killing, struggling.

...Yes, struggling. Always struggling.

Illegitimate son of an abandoned concubine, hence the Van middle name.

A life of loneliness and suffering, even though he had to work hundreds of times harder than his siblings because he wasn't even born with a surname like "La" or "Le," which were given to him.

This is the life of the Night Hound.

This was Vikir's last life, a life of war and destruction.

Juruk-

Tears fall from his eyes without anyone knowing who came first.

His body was being torn to shreds in the maelstrom of bombardment, but it was his heart that ached more.

"Vikir has been carrying these feelings in his heart all this time."

"...I can't believe he's been through this physically."

"I can't believe he's survived all this."

"What the hell, how can a human being do this?"

Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca are deeply disturbed by their newfound companion. Sinclair, who is also forming a barrier, bites her lip so tightly that it bleeds.

'I didn't realize your past was this bad.'

To be honest, she thought she was the saddest, loneliest person in the world.

But now, feeling the sword of emotion slashing through her body, she knew.

I see it so clearly.

-'Now is not the time to think about a relationship.'

-'...'Now?"

-'?'

-'Not now, right? Just not 'now'. So you'll have some time later, after you've achieved your goal?'

-'My goal is on a very long and difficult road. It's still a long way off...'

-'I know. For someone of your caliber to say that, you must be very ambitious indeed. Then one day, when you've achieved everything you want.'

-'....'

-'Will you accept me then?'

She realized then how immature and foolish she sounded.

What a burden it put on him.

'...If that day ever comes.'

And what a heavy heart, what a desperate sincerity, what an answer he had given to what he thought was just a way out of the situation.

Meanwhile.

"...."

Dolores could barely keep her hands and feet from shaking.

'Vikir, come on, you're a strong man!'

She shouted to herself as she faced the storm of hits raging before her.

It's a good thing they're aimless now, because if they were any more accurate, they'd tear these defenses apart like paper.

She carefully moved between the swords.

The sword pierced the barrier, leaving a long line of blood on her body, but Dolores was undeterred.

Then, an artifact was pulled from her chest pocket.

The Mirror of Truth. A mirror that reveals the true colors of those it reflects.

Dolores wished to show this to the remnants of Vikir's rampaging, self-absorbed mind.

She wanted to help him see who he really was, how valuable and brilliant he was.

Then.

Like a lie, the storm of bombardment paused.

Turning to Vikir, who stood still, Dolores took out a mirror as a last resort.

Faasshh.

And there, in the mirror, was Vikir's reflection.

No longer the pale face of four years ago, but a man's face with thicker, darker lines, staring back at Vikir's remnants.

Sincerity. Uprightness. Strong conviction. A face that showed something like steely determination.

Dolores smiled faintly as she felt her body relax.

"Yes, this neat and tall figure, this is who you really are."

She spoke with sincerity.

Even if she crumbled into a handful of dust at this very moment, if she could lighten the burden of this lone man in front of her just a little bit....

....

...However.

Reality played out a little differently than Dolores had imagined.

"I know."

The Vikir in the mirror opened his mouth to speak.

"?"

Dolores looked dumbfounded for a moment.

'Did the Mirror of Truth even have this feature?'

But her thoughts didn't last long.

Swoosh.

A palm silently covered the mirror.

Yes, it did. Dolores hadn't realized she hadn't gotten the mirror out of her hand.

...Then what is that Vikir in front of her now?

Dolores raised her head once more and looked closely in front of her.

[...Demons kill].

"I agree."

The remnants of Vikir's consciousness in the mire, frighteningly alive.

And another Vikir, facing his own reflection.

"Besides, it's been a while, everyone."

The sight of him giving a short reunion message to everyone clearly leaves no doubt about who he is.

That was the real Vikir!