The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound
The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound - Chapter 363: Castle of the deep sea (1)

Chapter 363: Castle of the deep sea (1)

It was the coldest, weirdest, most rugged, filthy, and cruel place in this world.

The gods have separated it from the sunlit world and forever isolated it.

No one can imagine the hell that exists there.

No words or illustrations in this world can fully express the terror of Nouvellebag, and the unique and eerie atmosphere of that place can only be felt by breathing its air.

People of the world, please do not commit sins. If you have already, find a way to repent as soon as possible.

In the depths of the hell, Nouvellebag, the grand prison, lies, its depths unfathomable, waiting to exact your sins!

Deep beneath the abyssal depths of the deep sea.

A towering fortress rose above the swaying black seaweed forest.

Atop the peak, an eerie yellowish-green glow emanated like the bioluminescence of deep-sea creatures.

It was the essence of Nouvellebag, an ancient fortress constructed of massive rectangular bricks.

…Clang! Thud!

Vikir’s ‘coffin’ descended onto the top of the fortress, the circular iron gate towering above.

A castle of the Ultra Deep Sea, Its interior was dug deep into the huge mountain peak.

Vikir surveyed the landscape outside through the eyes of Decarabia.

“…This is the Gate of Morality.”

The massive circular gate had a diameter of dozens of meters.

Its material seemed to be a blend of adamantine and orichalcum, akin to the vaults of the bourgeois clan, with thickness and weight beyond imagination.

The left was white, the right black. The placement of these contrasting colors held only one meaning.

‘The Gate of Morality.’ The final boundary that separates good and evil.

It was the main gate of Nouvellebag, the very symbol itself.

Eventually.

Creak-creak-creak-creak-creak!

The gate began to slowly rotate 180 degrees.

Like a manhole cover, the open gate inverted slowly, sucking Vikir’s coffin along with seawater into the interior of the fortress.

Beneath the Gate of Morality, a viscous, slimy membrane of unknown identity blocked the influx of seawater.

This transparent, viscous membrane also covered all the windows in the fortress.

Thunk! …Clang!

Along with a hefty stream of water, Vikir’s carriage landed firmly on the solid floor.

By then, Iron Maiden had molded itself to Vikir’s body size, snugly fitting like a suit of iron-clad clothing.

Eventually, Vikir felt the ominous touch of hands twisting open the carriage lid.

“…We have arrived.”

As soon as the carriage lid opened, Vikir leaned forward.

And there, the interior of Nouvellebag’s essence came into view.

The floor, walls, and ceiling were all a deep blue-green, befitting a fortress built in the depths of the ocean, cold, damp, and eerie.

Guards clad in black uniforms peered out from under their hats with sharp, piercing gazes.

“…Night hound.’ Is this the final inmate?”

A guard with a shaven head murmured at the front.

On his chest, adorned with a large burn scar, was a nameplate that read ‘Garam Nord.’

Judging by the diamond embroidered on his shoulder plate, he seemed to hold some rank.

“Captain Garam Nord” He looked down at Vikir as he spoke.

“The admission announcement will be made shortly. Prepare yourself after you change.”

Upon hearing this, Vikir raised his head.

Sure enough, several other prisoners had gathered in the waiting room ahead.

Each one of them wore striped black and white prison uniforms and had BDISSEM restraints on their wrists and ankles.

Eventually, Garam Nord, looking at Vikir and the other admission candidates clad in prison uniforms, spoke.

“I’m sure you’re all aware, but allow me to briefly introduce the system here.”

Although Nouvellebag may appear as a fortress atop an underwater Mountain peak, its interior is much broader.

A massive vertical underground space carved beneath Mountain.

“This place is divided into a total of nine zones.”

Garam Nord attached a simple illustration before continuing the explanation.

The first floor, also known as ‘Level 1.’

This is where the guards reside, and all events except executions, such as admission ceremonies or promotion ceremonies take place.

It’s also where inmates with sentences of three years or less are held.

The second floor, or ‘Level 2.’

This is where inmates with sentences of five years or less are held.

Since one year in Nouvellebag equals ten years in other prisons on the surface, those imprisoned here in level 2 typically have sentences exceeding 30 years but less than 50 years in a regular prison.

The third floor, or ‘Level 3.’

This is where inmates with sentences of 10 years or less are held.

In a typical prison on the surface, those convicted of serious crimes with sentences of up to 100 years are imprisoned here.

The fourth floor, or ‘Level 4.’

This is where inmates with sentences of 15 years or less are held.

From this floor onwards, you won’t find ordinary criminals.

At least, here, they imprison criminals of heinous acts, those involved in terrorism at the scale of cities, mass killings, and beyond.

The fifth floor, known as ‘Level 5.’

This is where inmates with sentences of 20 years or less are held.

It’s a space reserved for those who have caused significant harm to the nation through acts of terrorism, rebellion, or conspiracy.

Additionally, it houses the residences of high-ranking officers like the warden, as well as special facilities like the ‘Breeding Ground’ and ‘Execution Ground.’

The sixth floor, or ‘Level 6.’

This is where criminals who recieved life imprisonment (in Nouvellebag) stay.

Created with the purpose of permanently cutting off the world from individuals who pose a level of threat capable of overthrowing a nation, the inmates here are treated less like humans and more like ‘monsters.’

The seventh floor, or ‘Level 7.’

Even within life sentences, there are gradations based on the gravity and weight of the crimes.

According to imperial law, when a judge deems that a mere life sentence is insufficient to atone for a crime, they can multiply it several times. In this floor, inmates who have received sentences of at least 100 life sentences are held.

The eighth floor, or ‘Level 8.’

Inmates with sentences of less than a thousand life sentences are held here.

The ninth floor, or ‘Level 9.’

….

Garam Nord finished his explanation, gesturing with a truncheon at his waist.

The prisoners awaiting admission giggled and chattered nervously.

“I got eight years here. It’s truly dreadful.”

“Darn it! I got 13 years. That’s like spending 130 years rotting in a cell on the surface! I’d rather serve a short and thick sentence here and get out sooner.”

“Heh heh heh… I’m a lifer. Damn, living a lifetime in this craphole?”

“These chicks think they’re tough, huh? You know even life sentences have a limit? I’ve been sentenced to three life sentences.”

The prisoners exchanged glances, displaying their strength and cruelty to each other.

Among them, one stood out, drawing attention from those nearby.

A man covered in giant crimson blotches, with demonic features.

No one there didn’t recognize him.

Sakkuth de Reviadon, known on the surface as the ‘Plague Carrier.’

Expelled even from the ruthless clan Reviadon for extreme human experimentation, once with a bounty reaching almost eleven digits for his crimes.

He grinned, revealing sharp teeth.

“Hey, kiddos. Ever heard of the ‘Red Death’ plague? I’m the one who created it.”

Recognized as a severe threat by the empire, Sakkuth received a lifetime sentence, an astonishing 666 times, and was incarcerated here in Nouvellebag.

Although currently awaiting admission in ‘Level 1,’ it’s not where he’s meant to be.

As Sakkuth spoke, the mouths of the surrounding prisoners fell silent in unison.

Seemingly relishing in the heavy silence, Sakkuth continued his sinister laughter.

“I had already finished all the clinical trials on the indigenous people of the Red and black mountains, you know. Suddenly, those zealots intervened, messing everything up. Ah… what a shame. It was a chance to witness a pandemic of historic proportions. Tsk! Tsk! Tsk!”

Sakkuth. Besides his appearance and record, there was one more peculiar aspect about him.

That was the fact that he voluntarily entered this place as a prisoner.

“Tsk tsk tsk! I came here purposely to meet ‘Him.’ So, unlike you tiny little ants dragged here against your will, I’m on a different level.”

Sakkuth disregarded not only the prisoners awaiting admission but even the guards, with his aura being so ominous that none of the guards dared to step forward.

However, perhaps due to concern over the possibility of spreading contagion, everyone kept their distance.

Meanwhile,

Garam Nord was briefly explaining the procedures for the upcoming admission ceremony.

“The admission ceremony will consist of three steps. Firstly, belongings inspection. Secondly, health check. Thirdly, bathing. That’s all.”

To the surprise of many prisoners, they reacted.

“Do we really need belongings inspection or weapons removal? We couldn’t bring weapons here in the first place.”

“They’re going to give us a health check after measuring our physical strength? It’s like medical service, isn’t it? Not some welfare facility.”

“They’ll even provide disinfection and bathing! Haha, Nouvellebag seems more comfortable than I thought.”

“Ugh, I want to wash up quickly. I feel sticky to death because of the saltiness of seawater during the journey here!”

Contrary to rumors, Nouvellebag was quite well-equipped with amenities.

The prisoners seemed to relax, thinking that the upcoming admission ceremony wouldn’t be a big deal.

…But.

“It’s starting.”

Vikir knew.

The term ‘admission ceremony’ in this place didn’t merely mean admission.

And the series of events packaged with everyday words like ‘belongings inspection,’ ‘health check,’ and ‘bathing’ was terrifying beyond imagination.