The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound

Chapter 359: Voluntary (1)

Finally, the day of Vikir’s transfer arrived.

The streets were bustling with curious onlookers eager to catch a glimpse of the infamous convict known as the “Night Hound,” being escorted to the world’s most notorious prison, Nouvellebag.

“I can’t believe they actually caught the Night Hound.”

“I read in the newspaper that he surrendered?”

“…Why do you think he surrendered?”

“I don’t know. I’m more curious about what he looks like.”

“He’s a serial killer who’s murdered countless people. He must look terrifying.”

“I heard rumors that he’s over 3 meters tall, with gruesome tattoos all over his body.”

From the early hours of the morning, crowds gathered to witness the spectacle of the Night Hound being transported. And soon enough, in the distance, a carriage appeared.

Surrounded by layers of guards, the carriage moved forward. On top of it stood iron cages with black grilles.

Furthermore, shackles adorned the wrists and ankles of the prisoner, along with chains wrapped tightly around his body.

All of these were special restraints made of a mysterious substance called “BDISSEM,” which nullified Aura and forcefully restricted all physical strength.

A mark reserved only for capital punishment or convicts bound for Nouvellebag, these restraints always attracted a cloud-like crowd eager to witness the spectacle.

But this time was different.

Neither the BDISSEM restraints nor the unprecedentedly large convoy caught the crowd’s attention.

“Is that Night Hound?”

“He looks… pitiful.”

“No, is this some kind of photo shoot?”

As the crowd caught sight of Vikir sitting quietly alone behind the bars, they quietly put down their rotten food and stones.

No one dared to shout or throw garbage in Vikir’s presence.

An unapproachable aura. A sharply honed presence that made the surroundings tremble even without Aura.

Vikir advanced quietly, without any fuss.

Then, suddenly,

“You, you wicked person! You killed my father!”

Breaking through the crowd, a boy dashed forward.

He hurled the dagger he was holding, and his throwing skill was quite remarkable, as it flew gracefully through the gaps between numerous guards.

But of course,

Clang!

The boy’s dagger was blocked by a long blade.

Sharp pointed ears, ruby-red eyes, a uniform of black and brown intertwined—

Isabella La Baskerville, the knight commander who led the Doberman Order under the Ironblooded Sword Clan Baskerville, was also the Countess of Baskerville. She was one of those responsible for overseeing Vikir’s escort today.

“It’s bitter to send my nephew to Nouvellebag.”

She was Vikir’s distant relative, akin to a great-aunt. Though they had only met twice in the past, during Seth’s execution ceremony and the Abyss tree incident, she genuinely felt sorry for Vikir.

“I should have attended the banquet that day. If you had joined the Dobermann Order, things wouldn’t have turned out like this…”

But Vikir casually made a different remark.

“It’s tough for you being the successor of Professor Sadi.”

Originally, Isabella belonged to the Imperial Squad that specialized in arrests, but relinquished her position to Sadi and returned to her family after her term. However, due to the Abyss tree incident, Sadi was revealed to be a traitor, and the failure to arrest her left a void in the commander position of the squad, leading to Isabella, despite being related by blood, taking on Vikir’s escort.

Since they were already in the prisoner-escort relationship, using honorifics seemed meaningless, so Isabella simply nodded her head.

“Sadi. She was always a mysterious woman. I always advised her to be cautious despite her exceptional skills…”

Isabella clicked her tongue as if she had expected this turn of events.

Afterward, an awkward silence lingered between them.

Even though it was unlikely for a conversation between a prisoner and his escort, considering their familial relationship and the absence of ill feelings, Isabella left Vikir with a piece of advice.

“Nephew.”

?

When Vikir turned his head, Isabella spoke with a solemn tone.

“It might be better to end it now by your own hand.”

If he died now, he could still be buried on land. Perhaps that would be better.

The harsh space of Nouvellebag, as spoken by Isabella, who had been through thick and thin, was where Vikir was heading. It was the place where he would spend the next 3,021 lifetimes without the possibility of parole.

* * *

Some time passed, and the escort convoy began sailing on the sea.

Naturally, Vikir didn’t end it.

He simply boarded a ship from the northern continent, heading towards the “Cruel Sea,” where countless icebergs drifted.

On the deck of the massive ship, Vikir sat upright despite being drenched by pouring rain and icy waves, bound in handcuffs, shackles, and chains.

‘…The journey to Nouvellebag is treacherous.’

Waves tens of meters high and raging storms threatened to overturn the ship and swallow it whole at any moment.

Then.

There were those who approached Vikir as he meditated quietly alone.

“How does it feel to be heading to your deathbed?”

“Hehehe, I’d rather drown in the sea right here.”

“It’s easy for you to be so indifferent because you don’t know what Nouvellebag is like.”

Three mocking voices.

As Vikir turned his head, he recognized familiar faces.

Pedro Donquixote. Isotrope Usher. Thomas de Reviadon.

They were escorts sent from the Usher, Donquixote, and Reviadon families, respectively.

Originally, Isabella should have been the sole escort, but because she was Vikir’s relative, each of the seven families participating as jurors sent one escort, leading to the selection of Pedro, Isotrope, and Thomas, each representing their respective families with various skills and statuses.

“Nouvellebag is no joke. It’s a terrifying prison lying deep in the abyss of the sea.”

“You’ll die there, mark my words.”

“So, why not end it now? It might be better. Nouvellebag is truly hell on earth.”

Pedro, Isotrope, and Thomas whispered cunningly into Vikir’s ears.

Of course, Vikir paid them no heed whatsoever.

He simply focused on the faint stench eAurating from them.

‘…Minions of the demon.’

The scent wafting from them resembled that of Monte, Madeline, and Hopps , the smells he had encountered from the judges.

But even without the scent, Vikir already knew their faces, names, and backgrounds—all like prey he had hunted down.

“Pedro, Isotrope, and Thomas. Each of you sacrificed countless subjects as offerings to gain demonic powers before rising to high positions within your families. Does the taste of power acquired so easily satisfy you?”

At Vikir’s words, the expressions of the three hardened.

Eventually, they exchanged glances before speaking.

“As expected. We now understand why our master ordered us to kill you by any means necessary.”

“Locking you up in Nouvellebag won’t bring us peace of mind.”

“This ship will be your tomb.”

With Vikir restrained by BDISSEM restraints, rendering him unable to use Aura, he was nothing more than easy prey.

Pedro, Isotrope, and Thomas believed so.

However…

“…What’s going on over there?”

There was a voice that interrupted the trio.

Isabella La Baskerville.

Standing on the stormy deck, the leader of the Doberman Order glared in their direction, her icy-red eyes brimming with hostility.

“What kind of conversation was that just now? Power of the demons? Master? Why should this ship become the tomb of a convict heading to Nouvellebag?”

Isabella’s voice dripped with venomous energy.

Pedro, Isotrope, and Thomas clicked their tongues.

“Did you hear that? We were reckless.”

“So what? We were planning to kill him anyway.”

“It’s right to cut off the Baskerville family countess as well. Who knows how much she knows?”

They now exposed their vile intentions even to Isabella.

A situation of 3 versus 1.

Despite Isabella being a countess and a combat professional, she couldn’t handle three opponents simultaneously.

Pedro, Isotrope, and Thomas were formidable individuals from Donquixote, Usher, and Reviadon, respectively.

However, the situation once again rapidly changed.

“You were devising an interesting plan, I see.”

“Oh, Lord Rune. Please punish those wicked seeds.”

“How is this happening? Why have those kids suddenly become demon worshipers?”

Three new shadows emerged behind Isabella.

A stern-looking middle-aged man with black hair, a towering priest, and a gentle-looking young man.

They were escorts sent from Morg, Quovadis, and Bourgeois, respectively.

Banshee Morg, Mozgus Quovadis, and Lovebad Bourgeois.

Banshee, the Vice principal of the academy, and Mozgus, the inquisitor of the New Testament faction, were specially selected for this escort mission due to their strong convictions.

Behind Isabella, the leader of the Doberman Order, stood Banshee, Mozgus, and Lovebad, who was also the cousin of Merelini Lovegood, the student council president of the Temesquira Women’s College.

“We cannot overlook the remarks made just now.”

“Since demon was mentioned, we must also reconfirm Vikir’s testimony.”

“I’m not entirely sure, but your side is definitely suspicious. You even showed your intention to kill Isabella first.”

The situation turned into 3 versus 4. In this scenario, it seemed that Isabella’s side had the advantage.

However…

Pedro, Isotrope, and Thomas were still sneering.

“Do you think we just blindly stirred up trouble?”

“Hehehe, like vermin.”

“Hmm. It’s about time for the effects to kick in.”

Thomas, the ruthless lord from Reviadon, produced a pocket watch and held it up.

Immediately, Isabella’s expression changed.

“This… Aura!?”

Simultaneously, Banshee, Mozgus, and Lovebad’s expressions stiffened.

With a smug grin, Thomas spoke.

“You guys drank a substance that serves as a raw material for BDISSEM. It was in powder form and in such minuscule amounts that you wouldn’t have noticed.”

“The amount each of you consumed is enough to buy a whole ship. There’s no way there wouldn’t be an effect. Expensive things are indeed worth their value, aren’t they?”

“You are essentially wearing BDISSEM shackles right now. The effects may only last a few minutes, but that’s enough.”

Pedro and Isotrope also spoke up.

They exuded malice, pressuring Isabella, Banshee, Mozgus, and Lovebad in return.

With a mocking chuckle, Thomas added, “Don’t worry. We’ll report that the ship sank due to the Night Hound’s rampage, and you guys perished because of it. You’ll be remembered as heroes who died in the line of duty.”

Mutiny on deck.

Isabella, Banshee, Mozgus, and Lovebad faced the prospect of the most dreadful event that could happen on a ship, and they couldn’t hide their confusion.

“Damn it. My Aura ain’t working.”

“…It feels like we’re wearing BDISSEM shackles.”

“We won’t last long in this state.”

“Dammit! BDISSEM powder!? Where the hell did that come from? What kind of substance is that!?”

Amidst the chaos on deck…

“Shackles?”

Vikir’s voice came from within the bars.

“Are you talking about these?”

Pedro, Isotrope, and Thomas turned to see Vikir, who was spreading his palms wide inside the bars.

Simultaneously…

…Clunk!

The smiles on Pedro, Isotrope, and Thomas’s faces froze.

Before their eyes shattered the BDISSEM shackles.

Fragments of the broken chains fell with a clatter.

Without even a change in expression due to their immense shock, Vikir stood up.

The BDISSEM cell were distorted as easily as a straw hat.

“Don’t sink the ship.”

Night Hound emerged from his cage.

“I need to go to Nouvellebag.”

With an unbelievably calm expression.