The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound

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Chapter 88: The Iliad (4)

“I-Illiad?”

Aheuman’s expression hardened.

‘Illiad’ is a showdown between warriors. It signifies the ultimate life-and-death struggle to uphold honor when both sides cannot back down.

Chief Aquilla asked Aheuman with a gentle smile,

“Aheuman, the great sorcerer of ballak. You are a being with high pride, shining honor, and a long-standing tradition, as I mentioned before. Would you let such pride, honor, and tradition be tarnished like this?”

Upon hearing this, Aheuman could only swallow his objections.

The chief, who always treated him like a thorn in his side, was now elevating him for some reason.

It appeared to be preparatory work to make it impossible for him to refuse Illiad.

The experienced chief Aquilla seemed to be planning to eliminate the shaman’s power, which had been steadily curbed by fostering an atmosphere among the younger generation to reject superstition and tradition, using his daughter Aiyen.

Even his grandson Ahun didn’t support him.

“Grandfather. You always said that tradition is important. Illiad is the tradition of our ballak.”

“Enough of your babbling! I know that too!”

Aheuman turned his head while grinding his teeth.

Before him stood Vikir with an indifferent expression.

The foreigner who had been a war prisoner for a lifetime had become a hero of calamity in just two years.

Aheuman felt his clothing turning inside out.

His anger toward Vikir erupted like a pillar of flames.

“Fine! I understand! I request Illiad from you!”

Upon hearing Aheuman’s declaration, Vikir nodded without any significant reaction.

He meant to accept it eitherway.

Chief Aquilla, in a voice that only Vikir could hear, opened his mouth.

“…Can you do it?”

“If you tell me to, I’ll do it.”

Vikir had lived as a hunting dog in Baskerville for over fifty years, combining the time before and after his return.

He was familiar with being wielded like a sword by someone.

Chief Aquilla, hearing Vikir’s response, smiled with satisfaction.

It felt as secure as holding a sharp blade in his hand.

“Good. I trust you, son-in-law.”

“…?”

For a moment, Vikir thought he saw Adolf Morg overlapping with Aquilla.

Finally, all the warriors gathered their spirits and set the stage for the final showdown between the two warriors.

The place where the two warriors would engage in their battle.

All the warriors watched with nervously.

Aheuman thought to himself.

‘Well, this is better. I’ll use this opportunity to shake off all the unease and reclaim my place.’

He raised his burning eyes and glared at Vikir.

As if everything would return to normal if that figure in front of him disappeared.

Aheuman roared like magma boiling deep inside a volcano.

“The date is three days from now, on the night when the crescent moon rises! The place is here! I formally challenge you to Illiad!”

For a moment, the warriors were taken aback by Aheuman’s fierce energy.

But Vikir, the intended target of his life force, remained completely indifferent.

Just.

“Three days? That’s too long. Let’s do it right now.”

It seemed like he was in a hurry to quickly finish some trivial tasks.

Vikir’s relaxed attitude made the warriors cheer once again.

On the other hand, Aheuman broke into a cold sweat.

All of his secret plans would go to waste.

Vikir was well aware of this, so he didn’t give Aheuman any time to scheme.

“Most sorcerers are like that.”

He let out an exasperated sigh, trying to subtly delay the Illiad’s timing, but it was an impossible task.

Vikir, an old veteran who had been through countless battles, was by no means inferior to Aheuman.

In fact, having survived the age of destruction, he was even more skilled in devising tricks than the old sorcerer Aheuman.

“Illiad traditionally grants the challenger the privilege to choose the date and location. That’s how it usually goes, right?”

Aheuman could only make a pained sound in response.

The person who usually emphasized the importance of tradition had nothing to say about it in this situation.

He was hoisted by his own flag pole, trapped by his own actions.

Seeing this, Aiyen chuckled.

“As expected, Aheuman’s worst enemy is Aheuman himself.”

Aiyen, who mumbled as if to accuse him, then turned her head.

Next to her, loyal subordinate, trusted comrade, and close friend, the wolf Bakira, sat proudly.

Aiyen, while gently stroking Bakira’s soft ears, whispered quietly nearby.

“Go to the village and prepare a feast for the winner of Illiad.”

It was an order to prepare a victory celebration for Vikir from the people remaining in the village.

However…

“Don’t do such a thing.”

Vikir rebuked Aiyen.

When Aiyen widened her eyes in surprise, Vikir turned his head and replied.

“If you make a big fuss, the opposite result is likely to happen.”

Being too confident can make it difficult to prepare for unexpected variables.

Vikir glanced at Aheuman, who was approaching in the distance with frustration.

Since he was a sorcerer, there were often surprises in battles.

Vikir had gone through countless battles with sorcerers, black magicians, alchemists, and more during the age of destruction, and almost every time, he had experienced unexpected counterattacks.

In the end, Vikir always emerged as the victor, but those sorcerers had hidden a trump card just before their deaths, and Vikir had become accustomed to such things.

“I won’t allow even a 1% chance of carelessness.”

Even when catching a rabbit, a hunting dog gives it all.

Let alone if the prey is an old raccoon.

Vikir reviewed all the information before his return and checked each potential unexpected variable that might arise in the future.

Seeing Vikir becoming more cautious, Aiyen also became more cautious.

She shared everything she knew about Aheuman with Vikir in an effort to be as helpful as possible.

During their various discussions, there was a moment when Vikir’s ears perked up.

“Wait. That part, tell me about it again.”

As Vikir showed interest, Aiyen eagerly opened her mouth.

“What part are you talking about? Aheuman’s underwear color preference? According to the report from the child in charge of laundry, he mainly prefers snug-fitting spotted leather…”

“No, not that. Before that.”

“Ah, is that his background?”

Aiyen whispered to Vikir exactly what she had heard from Aquilla.

At this point, the information was a secret that only Aquilla, Aiyen, and Aheuman knew, excluding themselves.

“Aheuman is not a native of ballak. He was originally a member of another tribe and was kidnapped when he was young. Perhaps, Vikir, he was around your age at that time.”

Vikir was a bit surprised to hear this.

He had thought that Aheuman was a native ballakian through and through, with all the traditions and so on. But it turned out he was originally from another tribe.

And what Aiyen said next was even more surprising.

“He used to tell people that he was kidnapped as part of a rite of passage, but in reality, he was sold as a slave, to a shaman who liked Men.”

Perhaps because he had been taken as a slave at such a young age, Aheuman seemed to have projected himself onto Vikir.

… Could it be a form of tribal prejudice?

That Vikir, who used to think like that, had become a hero respected by everyone, must have been even more uncomfortable for Aheuman.

“Anyway, Aheuman lived a life as a sex slave and seized the opportunity one day to kill the shaman and take his magic.”

Aiyen recounted the tearful efforts Aheuman had made to adapt to ballak society afterward.

“In a ballak society that places great importance on physical strength, Aheuman had no place. And he was also looked down upon for killing the shaman who had raised him. So Aheuman did whatever it took. He did everything to gain the recognition of the tribe members.”

He started by cleaning up human and wolf excrement, took on all kinds of odd jobs in the village, and sometimes volunteered to bring in dangerous game or act as bait.

He would get up at dawn and warm the shoes of the former tribe leader with his body temperature. There was even a time when he, who was still a child, carried Aquilla on his back and mimicked a dog on all fours to show off to her.

And as time passed… when he was finally recognized as a member of the tribe, he had already turned gray.

As he became an old man, he could only look forward to the privileges of his youth that he had not enjoyed.

His suppressed vigor, violence, and impulsiveness, along with his sense of compensation, began to emerge along with his desire to surpass even the tribe leader Aquilla.

Reaching out to the ‘Reviadon House,’ a family affiliated with the empire.

Meanwhile, Vikir suddenly had a question.

“…So, what tribe was Aheuman originally from?”

“Hmm. I don’t know.”

Vikir nodded in response to Aiyen’s answer.

In fact, it wasn’t that important now.

On the other hand, Aheuman had been visibly restless since earlier.

It became even more pronounced when Vikir entered the battlefield for Illiad.

Like a skilled hunting dog, Vikir slowly and steadily tightened the leash on his prey, step by step.

After preparing for all the variables, Vikir headed for the battlefield.

However, just before Illiad began, an unexpected fatal variable occurred, even for the renowned Vikir.

… Thud!

The sound of a light kick on the ground from behind.

And immediately, someone firmly grabbed Vikir’s wrist and pulled him back.

When Vikir turned his head.

“……!”

And someone’s lip touched Vikir’s lips.

In the past two years, Aiyen, who had grown a little smaller, looked at Vikir with a mischievous smile, holding herself up with a bird’s-foot.

“Win and come back. I’ll give you something even better.”

She pushed Vikir’s chest with a smile.

Vikir thought about saying something but decided to let it go.

Because right now, this wasn’t the most important thing.

And finally.

…Cha-ang!

The Beelzebub, with its crimson teeth, came out of vikir’s wrist.

The hunting dog’s leash has finally been released.