Chapter 255: The Grave of Swords (3)
From cradle to grave.
The life of an Ironblood Swordsman Hound consists of nothing but swords.
"A true Baskerville is born in the Cradle of Swords."
Vikir quietly recited what everyone in the world knew.
... But the legend passed down in the family has a backstory.
"A true Baskerville dies in the Grave of Swords."
It was written on a page of an old history book, faded and stained with faded marks.
An old myth that everyone thought was just fiction.
But the moment Vikir found the Grave of Swords, he knew it was true.
He realized that among the proverbs of the Baskervilles, none of them were lies.
Literally, from the cradle to the grave. The roads of Baskerville are made entirely of swords.
Once again, Vikir realized that this was the fate of the iron-blooded swordman hound.
Plod, plod, plod, plod.
Vikir walked up the steep stairs of the tower.
The stairs rose high, each one pointed like an awl.
A normal person would not have realized they were stairs.
If the inside of the Magic Tower was mysterious, beautiful, and dreamlike, the inside of this Black Tower was terribly lonely, suffocating, and isolating.
Every step felt like a flesh being sliced off by the surrounding rock formations, stalactites, and nameless rusted swords embedded everywhere.
Countless swords are glaring with their tips raised. If you were a prosecutor with a keen sense of energy, you could feel it even more closely to your skin.
Stinging – countless stabs, constant sharpened gazes.
The higher you go, the more you feel your whole body shrinking, little by little.
A staircase that is worn down, cut out, and chipped away, and can only be climbed by taking one step at a time.
If Vikir hasn't reached the Swordmaster level, let alone climbing the stairs, he would have been ovulated to death upon entering the tower.
Finally, Vikir reached the upper levels of the tower.
It was a scene reminiscent of the Cradle of Swords, with countless swords on display, but something far more murderous and sharp filled the empty hollow.
...That is because of the man sitting on the throne in the center of the space.
A iron throne of sharp swords.
And there, a man in thick iron armor, with a long gray beard.
Beneath his gray eyebrows, what should be the whites of the eyes are filled with empty darkness, and in the center of those eyes, red as the sun burns coldly.
His nose was sharp as a sword, his lips tightly pressed into a line, and his dead, blue skin was so dry it barely covered his skull.
His dark heavy armor and massive greatsword made the throne he was building seem even more formidable.
"...!"
Vikir recognized the old man's identity at once.
CaneCorso. CaneCorso Le Baskerville.
Even Hugo, who had killed all his brothers to become Lord of the House, couldn't do anything about him until the very end.
A former Seven Counts who has been experienced difficult times, and the strongest of the current Seven Counts.
The average level of inactivity for the Seven Counts lies somewhere between the top grade of Graduator and the path to Master, but this is absolutely not the case in the case of the CaneCorso.
CaneCorso is Hugo's older cousin by blood, but their ages are separated by nearly a generation.
Even before he turned his back on the world and went into hiding, he was already stronger than Hugo, the Swordmaster, and was literally the legend of the sword.
...Is that why?
CaneCorso never showed his face at family events, such as the Great Banquet or the House Council, and he refused all the attendants and knightly orders that a Seven Counts normally would have.
He never intervened in the affairs of the world, and in his later years he went into hiding, erasing all traces of himself.
His deeds have been recorded only in literature, and they are so unrealistic that even the direct descendants of the House of Baskerville do not immediately believe it.
However. there was still no denying that CaneCorso was Baskerville's strongest swordsman.
'If my brother had been greedy for the seat of Lord, I would not be sitting here today.'
Even the great Hugo had admitted as much.
... Meanwhile.
'So here I am.'
Vikir thought quietly to himself.
Before Vikir's regression, CaneCorso had not been seen in the world during the Age of Destruction.
However, there was one incident that suggested he was not dead.
On one occasion, a vast army of demons marched across the Red and Black Mountains.
Their purpose, of course, was to conquer the human world.
After crossing the mountain range, they gathered together and realized that several of the legions that were supposed to be there were nowhere to be seen.
The demons and the human alliance quickly tracked their location.
And what they found was astonishing.
Countless, uncountable numbers of demons had perished in their attempts to cross the Yuuni Salt Desert.
Sure, salt storms and basilisks existed, but it didn't make sense for several legions to be wiped out.
So the Demon Soldier Chasers were dispatched to investigate.
... But none of the demons that entered the salt desert survived.
They were either missing or found as torn and tattered corpses.
And even then, they were only found after being blown far away by storms.
So the Human Alliance concluded that there was something unknown, powerful, and dangerous in the salt desert.
After much deliberation amongst the great heroes crawling putting their heads together for a long time, it was decided that a certain Absolute Master, who had turned away from the world and lived in seclusion, was responsible for the incident, and one of them was the CaneCorso.
'Hugo must have already had some idea that CaneCorso was here, for one of the Baskervilles hounds died trying to deliver the letter.'
That was why Vikir had come here today, too.
Hugo Le Baskervilles, a Swordmaster like himself, practicing the Seven Baskervilles.
And CaneCorso, who is said to have transcended Hugo long ago.
Vikir hopes to meet with CaneCorso for hints on the Eighth Baskerville and a way to surpass the Swordmaster.
'And on top of that, to get the Wraith Tree.'
You can read about it in The Return of the Mage Hound. The Wraith Tree grows right here.
Vikir also knew from his pre-regression knowledge that the Wraith Tree was in the Yuuni Salt Desert.
He had seen the Eighth Corpse Seere gathering the fruits of the Wraith Tree, which had grown to branches far beyond the salt desert.
'Back then, a great number of people were sacrificed to prevent the Wraith Tree from falling into the hands of the demons.'
And from the manure of those sacrifices, the Wraith Tree grew even taller.
It covered the entire desert and grew bigger and taller than the whole Red and Black Mountains.
Its appearance resembled that of a mythical World Tree.
Countless fruits hung from its branches that stretched out across the mountain.
The skull-shaped fruits hung greedily, filled with the flesh of corpses and the juices of souls, and as they hung and swayed in the wind, it was like watching a line of hanging corpses.
Fruit of the Wraith Tree. Wraithflesh.
When a demon picked the fruit and took a big bite out of it, a thick, nether mana spurted out along with blood-like juices, and a high-pitched scream of agony resounded in the air.
There was no way that the Dead Soldiers, who were all dying, would be able to resist it, as a single bite of Wraithflesh would completely revitalize them.
The Wraith Tree has given the Demon Legion a tremendous boost of power, while at the same time being a disaster for the human race.
"...."
Vikir finished his reminiscence.
And now, behind the iron throne in front of him, he sees something else.
A throne of countless swords. A wicked malice growing behind it.
That's it. That's the Wraith Tree.
It seemed that there was no other tree in the world that could be called a wraith tree.
A tree of wraiths, nourished by the grudges, cries, and grief of the living.
Its skull-shaped flesh hardened with the power of the dead.
The way it stretched upward, trunk by trunk, was grotesque enough to send chills down the spine of even the greatest Vikir.
It is still small, but in time it will cast a shadow darker and greater than any other shadow this world has ever known.
Meanwhile.
CaneCorso raised his head and spoke in a voice as heavy as lead.
[This is the Tomb of Swords, the final resting place of those who seek the ultimate goal of the sword].
Inside the eye socket, where the white and black eyes are reversed, the old man's red pupil has a youthful look.
He seemed to be curious about Vikir's youthful face.
[...Child. What are you?]
CaneCorso is much older than Hugo, and is the eldest adult in the hierarchy, making him technically Vikir's uncle.
However, Vikir has no intention of honoring his family's laws or lineage.
Chang-
That's why Vikir can draw his sword so casually.
"Find out for yourself."
All Vikir cared about was the road to Baskerville 8th Form and the the Wraith Trees blooming behind the Iron Throne.
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