The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound

Chapter 340: Trap (2)

[10th Floor: The Lost Paradise]

A translucent screen floats on the wall.

The catalog displaying numerous items and their prices catches the eye first.

[Hot Water Fountain Faucet – [3 Red Candies]]

[Hinoki Wood Sauna – [1 Red Candy]]

[Marble Bathtub – [2 Red Candies]]

[Deluxe Bath Set: Shampoo, Conditioner, Body Wash – [1 Blue Candy]]

[Aged Wine Barrel – [1 Blue Candy]]

[Fresh Fruit Assortment – [1 Blue Candy]]

[Peppa Pig’s boiled Hind Leg – [1 Red Candy]]

[Latest Card Game – [1 Blue Candy]]

[Letter to a person Outside the Tower – [1 Gold Candy]]

.

.

A resting area where anything can be bought with candies.

Comfortable and luxurious amenities are spread all around.

The prices of items aren’t too expensive, so even those with lower levels or stats could relax comfortably.

Delicious food, plush furniture, entertaining activities… you could even send messages to people outside the tower!

Although there’s only one reply, and it costs an additional Gold Candy to read it, communication is still possible.

Plus, sending once a month is free, making it an even better perk.

Considering that only 0.0001% of challengers can enter this floor, and the difficulty increases tenfold from the next floor onwards, coming to this floor as a challenger can only be considered fortunate.

So, Vikir assessed all these comfortable and luxurious things.

“…A cunning trap.”

Setting a trap so overtly like this is unheard of.

Yet, despite that, the trap on this floor has an immense effect.

Even Vikir, who has experienced countless battles and trials, might have succumbed if he didn’t have knowledge from his past life.

“Even Camus struggled considerably on this floor.”

Vikir reminisced about an event from long ago without letting go of his tension.

In his mind, the face of Hugo Le Baskerville, the lord of Baskerville, appeared.

“Do you know how to defeat a very powerful monster?”

One day, Hugo gathered the young hunting dogs of Baskrtville and said the following.

When one dog raised its hand and said, “By overwhelming it with numbers,” Hugo shook his head.

“It’s a very large monster that even a group can’t handle. If such a creature were to dominate a mountain and reign like a king, what would you do?”

A large monster that rules over a region as its loser.

Acting alone, its combat power and danger are so high that even several army units couldn’t handle it.

In the western outskirts, where the Baskerville clan lies, there were quite a few of those monsters, or so it’s said.

Hugo then explained the method he used back then.

“I didn’t really use force. Given enough time, anyone could have done it. Even a mere kid,” he said.

At that time, Hugo said he laid out chunks of meat all over the mountains.

He didn’t even use poison traps. The mere smell of blood or iron would only heighten the enemy’s vigilance.

The chunks of meat scattered throughout the monsters’ territories were seasoned.

They would choose fatty portions of meat, rich in fat and cholesterol, and roast or fry them before laying them out as bait along the hunting routes of the monsters.

At first, due to their vigilance, the monsters wouldn’t eat the meat. But as they kept seeing the chunks of meat laid out along the hunting routes, they eventually succumbed and began eating them.

Incredibly tasty chunks of meat continued to be provided. They were everywhere.

Without needing to go hunting, one could always find such greasy and delicious chunks of meat just by setting foot on the hunting routes.

A life of simply lying down and sleeping, only to get up and pick up chunks of meat to eat whenever hunger struck.

Such a life continued for a while.

During that time, the monsters gained weight. Their bellies protruded, and wrinkles formed.

Their claws, once sharp from traversing the land, and teeth, which used to crush bones and soak in blood, all dulled.

Their ears and eyes, which could detect the slightest movement of prey kilometers away, became clogged with fat.

The lower belly and the fat-laden organs weighed down their once agile bodies.

“That was it. It was time to hunt.”

When the monsters completely lost their wildness, the fiercely trained hunting dogs of Baskerville would break free from their leashes and run out.

And from that day on, the owner of the territory would change.

The bloodthirsty Warriors of Baskerville systematically sorted out the monsters of the enemy and the Black Mountains in this manner.

‘…The principles of this layer is the same.’

Vikir closed the catalog.

The danger of this layer isn’t due to the presence of monsters or traps.

Rather, the fact that there are none of those things.

Good times create weak men.

The space felt as peaceful and comfortable as if all the struggles up to now were just a momentary nightmare.

Conveniences that could be obtained by giving away only a small portion of the stats accumulated through hardships.

Once you step out of this place, not only will you never be able to return, but you’ll also face missions ten times harder than anything you’ve experienced before.

And the ability to send letters to people outside the tower is also a reason to endure here.

It’s an opportunity to let your tearful family, friends, and lovers know of your safety.

And to receive their replies too!

That’s why challengers keep lingering on this floor.

During their stay, they keep using up the candies of stats, bit by bit, like clothes getting soaked in a drizzle.

The diminished candies never come back.

Strength, agility, stamina… and even levels decrease.

Challengers can also regurgitate the stats candies they’ve already consumed outside of this floor.

The longer they stay here, the faster challengers weaken.

Challengers whose bodies and minds have weakened eventually cannot descend to the next floor and end up staying here for life.

It’s like a prison without bars.

Tower challengers who were only physically trapped end up being mentally trapped here too.

And it’s all by their own will!

‘Here, I’ll just grow fat and feeble, and be satisfied with exchanging letters with people outside the tower for the rest of my life.’

Even if it’s not me, if someone else clears the tower, they can automatically leave this floor and go outside.

The psychological factor of “even if it’s not me…” also contributes to challengers being unable to escape this floor even more.

“Moreover… there are definitely hidden traps here.”

Vikir silently turned his head and looked at the screen in one corner of the room.

[※ A small bonus for all of you who have struggled to come here! Send a message to the person waiting eagerly outside the tower!]

[※ We provide the “Letter” which is normally worth one golden candy, free of charge once a month to residents of this floor!]

There was a function installed there to send letters outside the tower.

Without hesitation, Vikir pressed the send button.

Eventually, letters appeared in the air.

[To. 207th Division, 4th Battalion, 1st Company, to Sergeant Janet.]

[Miss you, comrade. Are you living comfortably there?]

.

.

Vikir sent the letter. And then, within a few seconds, a reply came immediately.

[Would you like to check the reply right away?]

[One golden candy will be deducted]

[Free confirmation will be available after 30 days]

.

.

Vikir consumed one golden candy he had and opened the reply.

[From. 207th Division, 4th Battalion, 1st Company, Sergeant Janet.]

[Captain? Captain Vikir? Are you alive? Where are you! Everyone is waiting for you, Captain! We all gathered our voices, thinking Captain Vikir wouldn’t have…]

.

.

Without needing to see more, Vikir immediately closed the letter.

“It’s definitely a trap.”

Experienced Vikir scrutinized all the strange aspects hidden in the letter.

Firstly, Sergeant Janet is a person from his past life, and in that timeline, she had already been executed and no longer exists. At the present moment, Sergeant Janet would be living as a noble lady, having received support from Cindiwendy.

The future has changed.

In other words, the person Vikir remembers as ‘Sergeant Janet’ no longer exists in any world.

Despite that, the fact that a reply came so promptly…

“It’s a deception.”

A function designed to make those who enter this floor feel content and secure with the ability to contact their loved ones, even though it’s all a lie.

“…But all of this is false.”

After reading the letter, the demon peeks into the memories and emotions of the letter’s writer and carefully selects only the words they want to hear before sending the reply.

“Due to the limitation of once a month, only the necessary words can be written and sent to the necessary people. All the yearning and earnestness are read by the bitchy fairies.”

And now, the letters ghostwritten by the demon will make the tower’s challengers feel content with reality.

If they proceed to the next floor, even this small exchange of communication will become permanently impossible.

“Sly and cowardly, just like the demons’ tactics.”

Vikir let out a disgusted grunt and stood up.

Vikir, who had no one waiting for him outside the tower, nor anyone he missed, could leave this floor without any hesitation.

“…But I’ll stay here only until my health and mana are restored.”

Even now, his wounds were regenerating at a rapid pace.

Baby madam and Decarabia were also probably about to wake up from their deep slumber under the bed.

“…But who moved me to the bed?”

As Vikir pondered this strange thought for a moment,

“Oh? You’re awake.”

A voice came from beside him.

Vikir turned his head to see a familiar face, a female student standing there.

Dolores. The student council president of Colosseo Academy was standing across the bed, looking at Vikir.

In that moment, Vikir realized something he had forgotten.

“Right. A pair of male and female is always together on this floor.”

To prevent those imprisoned here from going mad with loneliness and attempting to escape, the demons always place another prisoner here. The two become companions to each other, enabling them to stay here.

Dolores seemed to have entered this floor before Vikir.

She gently stroked the wound on Vikir’s forehead with a sympathetic expression.

“Stay lying down a little longer. The trauma is minimal, but the contusion is severe.”

Vikir was momentarily taken aback by Dolores’s unreserved approach.

‘What the hell is she doing…?’

Was he in his Night Hound state or Vikir from Colosseo Academy? Judging by the informal speech, it seems like she was addressing first-year Vikir from Colosseo Academy.

But the affectionate gaze she was sending him was undoubtedly the one she had when facing the Night Hound.

‘…Could it be? Has she discovered my true identity?’

Just as Vikir was about to hastily rise,

Dolores firmly embraced Vikir’s body.

“Oh, you little rascal! I told you to lie down a bit more, but you just won’t listen!”

At the same time, she slid her hands under Vikir’s ribcage and lifted him up in one swift motion.

In an instant, Vikir’s figure was reflected in Dolores’s large, clear pupils.

It wasn’t Vikir, nor was it the Night Hound.

“Listen to your big sister, Choco. Or I’ll neuter you~, you don’t wanna lose your little peanuts, do you~?.”

Choco, Vikir’s dog form.

It was Vikir’s third identity.