The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound
The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound - Chapter 387: The Wretched Dogs of Nouvellebag (3)

Chapter 387: The Wretched Dogs of Nouvellebag (3)

“These brats! Why should we eat this kind of stuff!? Are they insane!?”

“How can people work in a place like this!”

“They should at least give us some rest time!”

“When can we have family visits!”

“Even prisoners are human! We have rights!”

The prisoners on Level 1 gathered together, causing a commotion. They were the newly arrived recruits of Nouvellebag, still not accustomed to the ecosystem here amidst the chaotic atmosphere.

“Hey, did you hear? There was an escapee yesterday.”

“Nouvellebag isn’t that tough after all.”

“The guards seem overwhelmed, judging by their shifts.”

“Heh heh heh… Seems pretty lax. Should I try to escape too?”

These low-level prisoners, who hadn’t been properly monitored as the guards were busy, were fortunate to be positioned in blind spots, still unaware of the atmosphere.

Then, thud, thud, thud, thud…

the sound of military boots echoed loudly.

The Level 1 prisoners could easily be handled by lower-ranking guards. Mid-level guards lined up against the inmates of Level 1, each holding batons, knives, batons, axes, and the like.

“…Wh-what are those menacing weapons for?”

“They’re not going to kill us, are they?”

“Are they insane? Waving those at us who are already shackled?”

“T-these guys are not in their right minds…”

The prisoners visibly wilted at the sight of the armed guards. That’s how timid they were.

A captain-ranked guard at the front addressed the mid-ranking and low-leveled Lieutenant guards behind him.

“Listen up. Surprisingly, the floors with the most riots in Nouvellebag are Level 1 or Level 2.”

As the saying goes, knowing is half the battle. This is an eternal truth.

In Nouvellebag, lower-level inmates tended to incite more riots, while higher-level inmates tended to incite fewer riots. The higher-level inmates might feel the fear of this place more deeply in their bones, but the lower-level inmates, with less to lose, could be braver because they lacked foresight.

“Especially, Level 1 prisoners, like frightened puppies, often cause trouble without realizing the severity of it. Especially those who have recently arrived and haven’t yet acclimatized to society, they start talking about rights, organized protests, and whatnot, causing riots.”

The lower-ranking guards listened calmly to the supervisor’s words.

The captain-ranked guard continued with a smirk.

“And we, subtly, turn a blind eye to, or even encourage, riots on lower floors like Level 1 or Level 2. Sometimes, we even artificially induce them using planted provocateurs. Today’s riot might be natural, but you know. It’s all for your real-world experience.”

The captain’s words carried a subtle nuance.

Creating an atmosphere that instills confidence in the lower-ranking guards while simultaneously making the prisoners feel intimidated, the prisoners stopped shouting, wondering if their uprising was actually the guards’ sinister plan, and exchanged wary glances with each other. From the moment the thought of an infiltrator crossed their minds, the solidarity was already crumbling.

In such a situation, the captain drove his point home. “Though they’re Level 1 prisoners, they were once notorious criminals who made a name for themselves on the surface, enduring the transfer process and admission procedures to Nouvellebag. Even though they wear BDISSEM shackles, never let your guard down! Understood?”

“Yes, sir!” The lower-ranking guards shouted in unison. And soon after, the stench of blood-filled the air as the suppression began. It was a common occurrence in Nouvellebag.

Blood and flesh flew through the air as guards mercilessly trampled and beat the prisoners with batons and truncheons. Despite being lower-ranking guards, they easily surpassed the Level 1 prisoners who were restrained with BDISSEM restraints.

“S-savagery! This…this is a violation of human rights!”

“Human rights? Why search for that so deep below 10,000 meters?”

A guard silenced a screaming prisoner with a swift kick to the face.

Mid-ranking officer Kirko, her face splattered with blood, raised her head without bothering to wipe away the splatters. Her cold and piercing gaze swept over the criminals.

“You possess no rights. You are irredeemable, incorrigible trash. You black-haired beasts aren’t satisfied with leeching off the society system that ordinary citizens worked so hard to build; you also threaten their safety. What human rights do you deserve?”

Under Kirko’s gaze, the prisoners shriveled like squids thrown onto a flame.

And at that moment, a clanking sound echoed.

Thud. From behind, a chain whipped across Kirko’s back.

A Level 1 prisoner, shackled with BDISSEM restraints and a restraint mask, stood with bloodshot eyes, glaring at Kirko.

X

The man bore a striking scar in the shape of a cross on his forehead.

“Heh heh heh… Do you know who I am?” He spoke arrogantly.

However, Kirko merely touched her throbbing back and furrowed her brow.

“No, I have absolutely no idea.”

“What? You don’t know who I am?”

He smirked arrogantly after flicking his hair back.

“I am Inmate Number 8… No, I am the ‘Monster of the Crossroads!”

He was Imcum, a prisoner recently incarcerated on Level 1. Unlike other prisoners, he had a slightly different background. He was originally a prestigious student at the Empire’s top university, the Colosseo Academy.

At some point, he fell into a life of crime, landing himself in Nouvellebag after deviating from the straight and narrow path.

“Darn it. I crossed some highborn mfs inside the abyss tree and they retaliated against me outside… Who would’ve thought the abyss[ tree would suddenly disappear?”

He found himself trapped inside the abyss, which had suddenly vanished. Taking advantage of the chaos during the reorganization of existing power structures, he had a lucky head start and used his acquired stats and items to bully high-ranking individuals he had never dared to confront before.

Especially targeting Dolores, Imcum had garnered infamy by harming numerous classmates, until the abyss tree suddenly disappeared, returning him to his original world.

“Good grief. I thought we’d live in the abyss tree for the rest of our lives…”

Naturally, those who had been wronged by him inside the abyss didn’t forget, and they repaid their debts. After being expelled from school and descending into a life of crime, Imcum eventually found himself incarcerated in Nouvellebag. However, due to the meager stats he had accumulated within the abyss, even with BDISSEM restraints, the loss of combat power wasn’t significant.

“Die, you wench!”

Imcum wrapped the chain hanging between his handcuffs around Kirko’s neck.

“Gah!?”

Kirko momentarily lost her grip on the longsword she was holding.

She hadn’t expected a prisoner on Level 1 to possess this level of strength.

This guy had the strength to be on at least Level 2, maybe even Level 3. He had likely been hiding his strength all along.

“…!”

Kirko gritted her teeth and twisted her body.

But Imcum deliberately focused solely on overpowering her.

In the chaotic melee of countless prisoners and guards entangled together, they would vanish from sight in an instant. And currently, there was not a single guard around to assist Kirko.

“Heh heh… So there’s a woman like this in Nouvellebag? I’ll let you go if you have fun with me later, how bout it?”

Imcum looked down at Kirko and licked his lips.

Kirko tightly shut her eyes.

Living as a guard in Nouvellebag, Kirko always lived with the anticipation that someday she would undoubtedly face a tough situation. This readiness was sharp and ingrained in her, whether she was lying in bed, standing watch alone in the quiet outpost, showering, or eating. ‘Today might be that day.’

The consequences of a momentary lapse in vigilance were terrifying. Such was the life of a guard working in Nouvellebag.

Kirko resolved to accept and endure whatever came her way.

…And then it happened.

Splatter! Thud-thud-thud…

Hot liquid sprayed over Kirko’s face.

“…?”

Kirko cautiously opened her eyes to identify the sticky substance covering her face. It was bright red blood.

Blood gushed from Imcum’s mouth, which was forcibly pried open and skewered deep down to his throat by a thick, hard, and long rod.

A truncheon.

It tore through Imcum’s upper and lower lips, pulling out all the teeth behind them and piercing through his esophagus.

Naturally, the flesh inside his mouth and his throat were all crushed in the process.

“Urgh! Ugh! Ugh! Euk!”

Imcum struggled to spit out the truncheon forcefully lodged in his mouth, but it was impossible. The hand holding the truncheon possessed tremendous strength and weight.

“…Are you okay?”

The man holding the truncheon asked Kirko dryly about her well-being. He was someone she knew well.

Garam Nord, twenty years old, holding the rank of low-level lieutenant, a fellow guard at Nouvellebag.

Garam responded to Kirko’s distress with his usual expressionless face.

Swish…

The truncheon was pulled out of Imcum’s mouth.

“Uwah! Guweeck! …Cough!”

As the truncheon, which had almost reached his stomach, was removed, Imcum retched, spewing blood, tears, mucus, and sweat.

Crack!

Even though he was on the verge of passing out from the blow to the back of his head, he managed to remain conscious.

“…Y-you?”

Kirko hesitated before speaking.

‘Never thought I’d be getting help from the dim-witted Garam,’ she thought, recalling past instances where she had to rely on him. ‘No, is this already the second time?’

There had been a previous incident during a riot where she had unwittingly received assistance. It felt somewhat different from now, though.

At that moment…

“Huh!?”

Kirko snapped out of her reverie. This was not the time for introspection. They were in the midst of chaos, with prisoners rioting all around them.

Acting quickly, Kirko shouted, “Not now, Garam! You’re supposed to be in your area! Why are you here!? Before helping me, you need to subdue the prisoners in your sector…!”

But she couldn’t finish her sentence. Garam cut her off with a brief reply.

“I’m already done.”

“…What?”

For a moment, Kirko doubted her own ears. But soon, her finely tuned ears confirmed that they had functioned correctly.

Garam’s truncheon, dripping blood, swung in a crooked ‘L’ shape. Behind him, dozens of prisoners lay writhing in pools of blood.

“There are more prisoners left to subdue.”

Garam’s words echoed briefly, leaving not only Kirko but also their fellow guards who had rushed over with blank expressions.