The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound
The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound - Chapter 377: The Hound of Nouvellebag (1)

Chapter 377: The Hound of Nouvellebag (1)

Nouvellebag, the worst place in the world.

Even in this shithole which is 10000 meters underwater and in a volcano, there comes a day when warmth seeps in just once.

It’s none other than Christmas at the end of the year.

God Rune’s birthday. Among the 365 days of the year, only this day grants prisoners a holiday.

The meals are different too.

Instead of the usual dried fish and hard black bread, pork jerky and soft white bread are served.

Prisoners gathered in a proper dining hall rather than on the labor camp floor for the first time in a while.

Candles burned and casted gloomy shadows as meat and bread flew across the dark hall.

Even the guards, on this day, kept their weapons slung behind them and stayed back, without much interference.

Despite the tough jerky and slightly stale white bread, prisoners rejoiced as if they just got released.

“I’d endure a year just for this day.”

“You did well to stay alive.”

“The ones who died yesterday are the most pitiful. Heh heh heh…”

Then.

“Scrrrrch… Get out of here, you mfs.”

A level 8 inmate shouted.

As he shoved his massive frame forward, prisoners scrambled to their feet and backed away.

Even after passing through the sulfur showers, this prisoner’s unsterilized venom was terrifying.

“You heard? That bastard can’t even control his own plague.”

“Yeah. They say if his saliva or blood-like mucus touches you, you’ll get infected for sure.”

“Look at those spots on his skin. Whether it’s poison or plague, he’s a really unpleasant guy.”

But Sakkuth paid no mind to the stares of the surrounding prisoners.

“Scrrrch! You maggots! I walked into this place on my own feet! And someday, I’ll walk out of here! My queen will soon take action!”

It’s a speech he’s been giving for a good two years now.

At first, it seemed like sincere disdain for others, but as time passed, his words started to carry a hint of madness.

And now, it sounds outright like some sinister incantation.

As prisoners watched Sakkuth spit and rant, they furrowed their brows or cowered in fear.

But there was one thing everyone shared: none dared to go near Sakkuth.

Before they knew it, a void had formed around Sakkuth at the dining hall.

Finally satisfied, Sakkuth grinned and sat down, chewing on his pork jerky and white bread.

…But?

Suddenly, Sakkuth felt a presence behind him.

One person. Just one prisoner remained seated without moving.

It was Vikir.

Sakkuth asked incredulously.

“Kid, aren’t you afraid of my plague?”

“… ”

Vikir didn’t bother to answer. If Sakkuth knew the fact that Madam’s poison, much more terrifying than the plague, was flowing through Vikir’s veins, he would probably faint.

Clatter- Clack-

Vikir quietly finished his meal.

It was a far cry from the atmosphere of Christmas he had spent at the Colosseo Academy.

Then, murmurs from a few prisoners gathered at the front tables could be heard.

“…Is it real?”

“It’s real. The guards checked them all, although they ended up in pieces.”

“Wow—did you really get it?”

“Heh heh heh—when you clean the septic tanks, you can find a lot of things. There are more good things than you’d think.”

It seemed that a prisoner cleaning the septic tank had found something valuable.

Vikir, who initially thought it might be nothing more than cigarettes, watches, gambling tools, or cheap drugs, tried to ignore it.

However, Vikir soon found himself intrigued.

“Kya—this is amazing. ‘Newspapers’.”

Newspapers. The only means to get news from the surface here in Nouvellebag!

Newspapers are incredibly rare commodities in Nouvellebag.

Logically, for these few sheets of paper to make their way into Nouvellebag, it requires an immensely long journey.

However, even among guards and prisoners, there are always those who desperately crave news from the surface.

Vikir was one of them.

Dr-r-rum—

Pulling his chair back, Vikir approached the prisoners who were chatting.

“Hey.”

As Vikir spoke up, the prisoners, who had been chattering among themselves, were startled.

“Yes, yes!”

They were Level One prisoners. Prisoners with minimal sentences who could leave after enduring only three years in this hellish place.

However, their lives were like insects, with little strength and weak bodies, and most couldn’t survive even a year and perished.

Frankly speaking, if Vikir, a Level Nine prisoner, were to cause a ruckus even once, these frail beings would perish in droves.

Yet Vikir didn’t raise his voice.

“Having newspapers in your possession will only cause chaos among you. Some treasures are cursed.”

“…”

“How about trading for this?”

What Vikir offered was a bag of black bread he had received as a reward not long ago.

The eyes of the prisoners wavered as they looked at it.

Vikir teased subtly.

“Since you’ve probably seen the contents of the newspaper already, it’s not a loss for you.”

“Oh, I haven’t seen it yet… Actually, I’m a bit nearsighted.”

“Then, I’ll read it and tell you the contents. How about that?”

In that case, it’s a deal they can’t refuse.

The prisoner hesitated, then pulled out a neatly folded yellow piece of paper from his pocket.

“It smells a bit because I picked it up inside shit. Heh heh…”

Vikir handed over the bread and received the newspaper clipping.

The newspaper didn’t look pristine at first glance.

Most of it was torn, leaving only the front and back intact, but even those had many torn or smudged parts, making it possible to discern only the headlines.

Most disappointing of all was the date, which was a whopping six months ago.

“I used to see newspapers from the Colosseo Academy’s newspaper department even before they were published. Seeing these newspapers being treated so preciously (even if it’s from six months ago!) feels quite different.”

Snap-

Vikir carefully scanned the newspaper.

[Inside…] …Court, Assaults…

– Usher House… Under mysterious attack… Significant damage… Authorities suspect… One suspect identified… Madeline, the victim… In critical condition… No threat to life…

[Exclusive] Hit by consecutive attacks…

– Donquixote… Faces another questionable attack… Monte… Injured… Authorities suspect… One suspect was identified… Presumed to be the same individual…

[Exclusive] Assassination suspect apprehended…

– Reviadon Clan… Attack on Lord Hopps… Due to the recent surge in monsters… Unexplained gates and strange dungeons appear all over Reviadon territories… Imperial investigation initiated… The Night Hounds… Mysterious group… Troubling times ahead…

Although brief, the contents were somewhat understandable.

The first and second pages usually cover the biggest events in society, so one could roughly grasp how things are going on the surface.

“Usher House, Donquixote Clan, Reviadon Clan—all attacked in succession. Same attacker? Who could it be?”

As Vikir read through the articles, he noticed something.

“…Unexplained gates and strange dungeons appearing all over… ”

In addition to strange keywords like ” The Night Hounds,” the preceding content entirely captured Vikir’s attention.

“The era of destruction. It seems the demons have begun their activities.”

The signs of the apocalypse were already showing.

No, considering this is an article from six months ago…

“I need to hurry”

The era of destruction is near.

It was likely the butterfly effect caused by Vikir’s actions against the ten corpes so far and the testimonies he left behind before being trapped in Nouvellebag, to figures like Cindiwendy and Isabella.

“I’ve seen you often during my time at the academy. You’re not a villain. That much I’m sure of.”

“Having witnessed the facts of the majins who had infiltrated just now, I now fully understand everything. You must live. Why did I realize this only now?”

“As soon as I return, I will present the majins as evidence and demand a retrial.”

“Even if it means sinking the ship, there was a command from the patriarch to free you, Vikir.”

From the stern Professor Banshee, to the stubborn Mozgus, the completely faceless Lovebad, and even the hunting dog of the family, Countess Isabella.

Thinking about the attitudes of the escort guards from Morg, Quovadis, Bourgeois, and Baskerville, one could roughly guess what had happened among the seven major clans since Vikir arrived in Nouvellebag.

“I understand why the ten corpses are eager to hastily open the gate of destruction.”

It was probably a political and strategic decision.

Since they operate not by human reasoning but by demonic’s logic.

…Thud!

Vikir closed the newspaper and washed his hands in the dripping water from the ceiling.

‘I need more information from the outside.’

Finding a newspaper that may not be available anytime soon would be of little use.

The surest way to obtain information from the outside world is still one thing.

“I have to leave and go outside”

The core objective of entering Nouvellebag, “Poseidon,” has already been found.

With that alone, it could be said that more than 90% of the goal has been achieved.

Vikir began to find the heavy restraints on his wrists and ankles increasingly annoying.

“…Time to get rid of these shackles.”

The dawn of the prison break was dawning in earnest.