The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound
The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound - Chapter 321: Dogma (1)

Chapter 321: Dogma (1)

-Ding!

[Exited ‘Familiar Ground’ on Basement Floor 3]

[Entered ‘Isle of the Black Sea’ on Basement Floor 4]

Basement Floor 3 became increasingly desolate.

The massive tsunami, which had chased them up to their heels, scattered everyone.

All 68 survivors scattered through individual gates.

… And Vikir woke up in the world of Basement Floor 4.

“Hmm. Is this the sea?”

Vikir brushed off the dry sand clinging to his face.

A place where moist sea breeze blows.

Vikir found himself on an island in the middle of the vast and murky Black Sea.

It resembled a mound of earth protruding from the sea’s surface.

Strange trees appeared and disappeared like bones in gray mist.

Splash-

Vikir went to the shore and dipped his hand in the water.

The water had an overall murky hue.

Just dipping his arm made his hand disappear from sight.

There was barely any buoyancy; even strands of hair or clothing didn’t float but sank straight down.

Splash- Splash-

Waving his hand, he noticed movements were severely sluggish.

The water itself felt much heavier compared to regular water.

‘…Is this what they call ‘Blackwater’?’

Vikir nodded to himself.

An ocean somewhere at the end of the world, a very distant ocean.

The waters there are said to be black, heavy and nothing floats on it.

It’s said that once something sinks into this black seawater, like lead melting, it never resurfaces.

Hence, it’s a forbidden zone that sailors should never enter.

‘Well, ships sailing smoothly suddenly sink for no apparent reason.’

Looking up, beyond the black horizon, fierce storms raged.

As if enclosing the island with relentless fury.

Vikir shook off the seawater and returned to the shore.

Passing through the sandy beach made of black sand, he entered the forest of strange trees, now revealing white soil.

‘This is Mycelium Sand.’

Between clumps of soil, there were sticky threads like fermented soybean paste, stretched out in white.

Half of the island was black sand, the other half white soil.

It was a bizarre ecosystem, as if someone forcibly stitched together fragments from entirely different worlds.

“…The soil is parched, the trees are dead. It’s the result of forcibly mixing two different terrains.”

It’s obvious who created this bizarre world.

[Amdusias, the world absorber.]

The voice of Decarabia in his chest spoke up.

[He travels the world, capturing fragments of the worlds he desires and storing them in the abyss. This is one of many patchwork spaces that he made.]

Thinking of the Colosseo Academy or Venetior’s city centre on the upper floors, it certainly made sense.

“In that case, what happens to the creatures living in the place absorbed from the world?”

[They come along. They become challengers to the tower.]

Which means there might be other ‘pioneers’ who entered this tower before Vikir.

Whether it be human or monster.

Then.

“….!”

Vikir noticed something peculiar near the center of the island.

It was a large tree standing tall in the midst of the black-and-white world, devoid of any leaves, branches, or trunk, just twisted grotesquely.

Perhaps it had sprouted from the root of the abyss tree and wandered here, losing its way.

Vikir climbed up the tree roots.

After ascending for a while through the black and sturdy bark, he spotted a cavity.

There, a viscous, blood-like sap bubbled and formed a puddle.

Vikir dipped his finger and tasted it.

“It’s edible.”

Faintly sweet in taste, despite being diluted due to being the tip of the root and not in large quantity, it was enough to sustain a person.

From the memoirs of the great heroes he had read before, he recalled instances of surviving by consuming sap from the abyss tree’s roots, so it should be safe to ingest.

Vikir leaned into the cavity and sucked the sap, feeling somewhat like a bug, but in terms of survival, it posed no problem.

The moderately sweet and bland liquid quenched Vikir’s parched throat.

His organs, which had felt shriveled and dried up, now felt moist and plump after a long time.

However.

‘…That’s enough.’

Vikir drank just enough and pulled his mouth away from the sap.

There was still a considerable amount of sap left in the cavity, but Vikir refrained from taking more into his mouth.

Decarabia spoke.

[Nice work, human. The amount of sap from the abyss tree that can be consumed at once is limited. Exceeding that is likely to result in demonization.]

“I know.”

As Vikir was about to descend from the tree roots.

“Hey! What are you!?”

A sharp cry came from below.

Several students from the direction of the hill were sending wary glances.

New faces.

But they were fellow students from the Colosseo Academy, so they were all known figures.

They continued to shout at Vikir.

“Who dared to drink that sap without permission!”

“It was our turn this time!”

“How dare you steal our sap!”

They seemed to have landed on this floor before Vikir did.

Normally, Vikir should have landed here after spending over 68 days, but due to the fairy impulsively ending the mission, he seemed to have mixed with others.

‘Hmm. So, did these guys clear the mission on 3rd floor before me?’

Considering how time concepts were arbitrary on each floor within the tower, it seemed plausible.

Vikir glanced down at the students below.

Of course, they weren’t the only ones.

“What’s going on? Is someone happening?”

“Huh? A new guy’s here.”

“Who’s here? Could it be a noble?”

Students revealed themselves one by one.

All of them were unnaturally skinny, with bloodshot eyes.

Then, a person who seemed to be the leader among the students stepped forward.

“I am Dogma, a third-year from the Colosseo Academy’s Hot department. I’m the vice-president of the student council. You should recognize my face, right?”

It was a strangely smug line.

Of course, Vikir knew his face and name.

“Dogma. Commoner. From Underdog City. Third-year in the Hot department, second in the grade. The guy who lost to Dolores in the finals.”

Being a commoner himself, he harbored a significant inferiority complex, and as the student council president and top of the grade was Dolores, from Quovadis Clan, he had an immense sense of competition and admiration.

Dogma spoke to Vikir.

“I know who you are. You’re Vikir, a first-year from the Cold Department, right? Seems like you joined ‘our floor’ late.”

He continued speaking with an authoritative air, as if the entire floor belonged to them.

“There are rules here. Since the amount of sap from the tree is limited, we take turns to drink it at scheduled times. You broke that rule.”

“…Who made that rule?”

When Vikir asked, Dogma replied as if it was obvious.

“It was us, the ‘commoner faction’.”

“…Commoner faction?”

Vikir raised an eyebrow.

There were three factions in the Colosseo Academy.

The official organization: the student council, and the unofficial factions, the noble faction and the elites (Clan heirs).

But there was no such thing as a commoner faction. After all, it wouldn’t make sense for commoners to form factions based on their status.

“I see. Is it a newly emerging concept within the tower?”

Outside the tower, the wealthy and powerful rule. Nobles, the seven great clans, and those in power.

This hierarchical structure passed down through generations, was perceived as unchangeable, with social mobility gradually becoming impossible.

Although there were extreme cases like the 47 Person incident, such attempts were all brutally and perfectly suppressed.

In other words, those from lower standings could never ascend to higher ones.

“…But this place is different.”

Dogma smirked.

The logic of power dominating the outside world, the system that seemed eternal, had no power here.

Zero Base. A world where everything is perfectly fair.

Riches, beauty, good looks, high status, academic prowess, strength… all the criteria that put people on top in the world are reset to zero, a fair starting point.

Equal opportunities. In this world, anyone can rise to the top with effort.

All the burdens of low status, ugly appearance, weak physique, lack of talent, and poverty that one had to bear since birth can all be overturned.

It’s the first and last chance for those who have always been looked down upon to rise higher!

“We, who were born with the original sin of being born to poor and powerless commoner parents, have suffered disadvantages from birth. But how about now? Everything is about levels and stats! And the reward comes as honestly as the effort you put in! Now it’s time for us commoners to have our chance!”

Dogma spread his arms towards the gathered crowd of about twenty people, all of them commoners.

With fervent zeal, Dogma reached out his hand towards Vikir.

“You’re a commoner too, right? I know. You must have suffered a lot until now.”

“…”

“So did I. Nobles and elites never let go of the fact that a commoner could be good at something. Even though I never became top of the grade because of that Bitch Dolores, I was the second place and the vice president of the student council as a third-year. I’ve faced countless humiliation and disgrace all this time.”

“…”

“Yes. Even if you don’t say so, I know everything. You ruined them at the auction, right? I have been paying attention to you since then. I’ve always thought it was a shame that these idiots, who only sat there because they had good parents, slandered you. I wanted to help in my own way, but at the time, I was too preoccupied with myself. But now it is different!”

“…”

“I can help you, Vikir. Let’s join hands. How long are we going to let the rich exploit us and profit off of us!”

Upon hearing Dogma’s speech, all the surrounding students nodded their heads, their eyes moist with emotion.

A heartwarming atmosphere pervaded the island.

“…What about the rest of the survivors?”

Vikir spoke up and dampened the mood,

At least fifty people would have survived from the underground second floor to the third floor.

Having luckily avoided the Hellhounds, they would have faced the desiccated horrors of the flower without much choice but to make a decision.

And here gathered were about twenty commoners who survived that ordeal.

Vikir asked again, “What about the people who aren’t commoners?”

To which Dogma replied, “Well, that’s obvious. You also passed through the third floor, didn’t you? They all became food.”

“Whose food?”

“…”

In response to Vikir’s repeated question, Dogma just smirked without giving an answer.

“Don’t dwell on it too much. This is the land of overturning social hierarchy. It’s just fitting for the fate of those noble bastards who are worse than dogs or pigs.”

Eventually, the students split apart at Dogma’s gesture.

Clank! Clank!

Some students dragged chains that seemed to have been salvaged from the ruins.

Behind the piles of desiccated corpses, several figures emerged.

Necklaces filled with dog tags, long chains trailing behind them, and traces of beatings and abuse visible on their faces and bodies.

Vikir narrowed his eyes.

They were all familiar faces.