The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound
The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound - Chapter 362: Voluntary (4)

Chapter 362: Voluntary (4)

“Nouvellebag? Don’t even mention it. It’s hell on earth. A place I never want to return to.”

“The fact that we managed to survive there was pure luck.”

“…Never imagined that old monster would personally intervene to free us.”

Vikir recalled memories from before his return.

During the war with demons, Vikir got acquainted with a few escapees during the war.

The Great Demon War that unified all of humanity. Once classified as human, criminal records didn’t matter. Everyone was on the same side; everyone was a comrade. Alongside the escapees of Nouvellebag, Vikir witnessed and heard many things, experiencing the horrifying prison culture indirectly. Just as a man back from the military would endlessly recount stories, the escapees of Nouvellebag, especially when it came to prison life, would vividly and at length share their tales with other people. Vikir never found it boring; he always listened intently.

“So, you know well enough what Nouvellebag is like.”

Vikir entered the coffin. As the lid closed, the nails inside pierced Vikir’s body without mercy. However, thanks to the protection of Styx River, the physical resistance stat from abyss tree, and the fusion of aura within his body… Thud! The nails inside the coffin failed to pierce Vikir’s skin and bent instead.

In such a situation, Vikir’s voice came from the holes in the coffin’s upper part, where the Maiden of Iron’s eyes and mouth were located.

“Push me.”

Firm, unwavering voice.

Eventually, the coffin containing Vikir tilted towards the sea. All the holes in the coffin were sealed with special wax, and heavy weights hung at the bottom. Now, the coffin would sink rapidly in the midst of the whirlpool, towards the pitch-dark depths, the bottom of the deep sea.

Isabella approached the chain attached to the prow of the coffin and took her longsword.

Her mission: to kill every individual on board this ship, if necessary, to facilitate Vikir’s escape.

But how? How could she force someone so resolute in their desire to go to Nouvellebag?

Moreover, Vikir seemed to have some ulterior motive.

Whatever it was, even she as a countess, couldn’t dare speculate about him.

Meanwhile, regardless of the situation, Isabella was quite surprised internally. She had never thought she would see any prisoners again after sending them to Nouvellebag. …But now, it feeled different.

She had a feeling she would inevitably cross paths with Vikir again someday.

“It’s strange. Having such thoughts for someone heading to Nouvellebag.”

Isabella let out a light sigh.

And soon, her black sword spat out a prophecy.

Splurt-

A drop of gooey honey-like aura dripped on the iron chains connecting the coffin and the ship’s prow cleanly snapped off.

…Splash!

The coffin sank heavily into the water.

Only the white foam rising above the black surface served as the last evidence that Vikir had existed in this world.

Even that was soon swept away by the swirling currents.

Eventually, as midnight passed, the whirlpool subsided, and the currents began to calm rapidly.

Whooosh-

The sound of fluttering sails echoed loudly in the blowing sea breeze.

The four surviving escorts maintained heavy silence.

Eventually, the Lovebad Bourgeois, spoke first.

“…What should I say to my little sister? She’s already suffering.”

“Ugh, what should I say to Lady Camus.”

“I wonder how devastated Lady Dolores will be….”

“I’ll probably get an earful from the patriarch when I return.”

Banshee Morg, Mozgus, and Isabella Basketville also sighed deeply.

It was Banshee who first faced reality.

“Let’s return as soon as possible. And hand over the captives locked up in the hold for trial. We need to investigate the onboard rebellion as well.”

“We should demand a retrial for Vikir too.”

Isabella nodded at Mozgus’s words.

“A retrial won’t be enough. We need to thoroughly investigate the testimonies of Monte Donquixote, Madeline Usher, and Hopps De Reviadon as well.”

“They’re all formidable figures. If we’re not careful, it could spark a massive conflict among the Seven great clans…”

The worries of Lovebad were valid.

Even as Vikir headed to Nouvellebag,

He didn’t just go; he planted a major seed of doubt.

It was something so ominous and dangerous that it could shake the roots of the Empire itself.

* * *

Meanwhile,

Vikir, lying vertically in the center of the swirling vortex within the coffin, was sinking.

Innocence and retrials were out of the question from the start.

What mattered now was safely descending to Nouvellebag.

Gurgling…

With the sound of foaming water, the surroundings gradually darkened.

The narrow space at the tip of his toes felt slightly damp, giving the sensation of water seeping in.

The coffin was tossed about vigorously by the waves of the whirlpool before finally settling down.

Perhaps due to its considerable weight, it sank rapidly.

After a while, strange sounds came from the coffin lid.

Thunk-

As the coffin rapidly sank, the surrounding water pressure increased.

Made of Orichalcum alloy, the coffin began to crumple.

Eventually, it would be perfectly crushed to fit Vikir’s full size.

Most prisoners couldn’t endure this process and either succumbed to claustrophobia or went insane.

“……”

However, Vikir quietly endured, his lips sealed shut.

Thunk-thunk-thunk!

The Maiden of Iron tightly embraced Vikir.

Though the pressure on his body was tolerable, the lack of oxygen was the issue.

Then.

Hiss…

Somewhere, oxygen was flowing.

It seeped out like bubbles through faint cracks at the toes.

“Is it the power of these shackles?”

Vikir looked down at the BDISSEM shackles encasing his wrists, ankles, and body.

This mysterious substance emitted faint oxygen, aiding Vikir’s breathing.

“It absorbs mana, restrains physical strength, but emits oxygen? A strange substance.”

He recalled stories from his fellow escapees about BDISSEM shackles suppressing body movements but still being essential survival tools.

Thunk! Thud-thud-thud!

The distortion of the coffin worsened.

Into the deep abyss, where now there was barely a hint of light.

The infinite void.

An empty yet full space.

Being thrown into the depths within the coffin was no different from being buried alive deep underground.

Guided by the Maiden of Iron, it was a path to death.

Yet Vikir endured it all.

Even as the colossal metal coffin became like a second skin, as he endlessly sank into the lightless abyss of the deep sea, as the monstrous creatures of the sea ominously roamed the surroundings.

If there was one thing that provided solace, it was the presence of Decarabia embedded in his chest.

[Human. Holding up well?]

“I can manage.”

[Just now, an unbelievably large creature passed by us. It had an extraordinary number of legs.]

“Could it be the Shadowless King of the Black Sea?”

[Indeed. Hehehe… Do you still have quite a bit of leisure?]

“I shouldn’t speak of dying so easily. There are many difficult tasks ahead.”

Eventually, upon hearing Vikir’s words, Decarabia seemed to chuckle sarcastically.

[Alright, human. Then let me demonstrate one of my numerous abilities. It may well be the most needed ability at this moment.]

After finishing speaking, Decarabia emitted a strange light from its sole compound eye.

“…!”

Vikir was somewhat surprised.

As Decarabia emitted its gaze, the scenery outside the coffin began to appear in his mind involuntarily.

“Is this a shared vision? Quite useful.”

[Useful? Hmm… Perhaps it’s because of the sea, but as far as compliments for providing enlightenment go, that one seemed a bit bland?]

Though Decarabia grumbled discontentedly, Vikir ignored it without any further response.

Eventually, the scenery below where the coffin was sinking came into Vikir’s sight.

It resembled a forest.

A jungle. A vast forest.

Gigantic seaweeds, as massive as pillars of temples from mythology, were growing naturally over an immense area.

A colony of seaweeds.

Standing tall above, swaying with the currents,

the seaweeds resembled forgotten

soldiers of an ancient civilization,

standing erect as if standing guard.

The coffin containing Vikir was sinking to the center of this seaweed forest, to the top of the highest cliff, to the highest plateau.

Gurgling…

Above the forest where gigantic seaweeds swayed darkly, a jagged cliff rose like a spear, and at its end, there stood a building spewing dim, eerie light like a lighthouse’s beacon.

A massive fortress, constructed in the ancient style of densely stacked bricks,loomed atop the underwater volcanic peak, exuding a decrepit and eerie atmosphere.

Nouvellebag!

The world’s worst supermax prison awaited Vikir.