Chapter 283: Power inflation (3)
"Is there anyone in this world who can scare me?"
As the Great Evil raises its head and views the world.
"Here I am."
The pilgrim raised his hand and answered.
At the same time. Dolores felt her body, which had been about to be crushed, suddenly lighten.
The pilgrim. Night Hound.
Vikir stared at Bartolomeo.
"...!"
Bartolomeo felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
Jzzzzz!
As he tilted his neck back, a crimson slash flew out and split the mountain of gold coins behind him diagonally.
Sssssshhhhh, clatter, clatter, clatter, clatter!
The torn and crumpled gold coins crumble to the ground with a loud clatter.
"...Oho."
Bartolomeo rubbed the black blood flowing lightly down his cheek with his thumb.
He straightened his stance and asked in a hard voice.
"Are you Night Hound, the one who killed Guilty the other day?"
"Not Guilty, exactly, but the 9th corpse, Dantalian, the Thousand Faces."
At the mention of the name Dantalian, Bartolomeo's expression tightened and loosened for a split second.
"...The 9th what? The Thousand Faces? What is Dantalian? You're talking about something I don't understand."
He tried to play it off, but once the demon hunter had gotten this far, there was no escaping the situation.
"Andromalius, 'Inferior Second Son'. Dantalian, 'Thousand Faces'. 'King of the Undead, ' Seere. 'Wall of Wailing,' Decarabia. I took them all away. Do you understand now?"
"...."
At Vikir's words, Bartolomeo fell silent.
There is no need to show off to someone who knows everything.
Slurp-
With that, he pulled out a sword that was haphazardly buried in a pile of gold coins.
Bartolomeo stared at the red sword that extended a meter below Vikir's wrist.
"Maybe should I use a sword?"
"...."
"I'm here."
Bartolomeo smirked and held up the sword.
Vikir recognized it at a glance for what it was.
A black edge. A blue gemstone that glowed grimly at the end of the golden handle. A longsword with a golden cord hanging down.
Balmung.
Also known as 'Balmung of the Deep Sea' or 'Balmung of Bahamut'.
That is one of the magic swords that have been handed down from ancient times to the Iron Blood Swordsman Baskerville.
Sharp enough to cut through steel with a mere touch.
However, it is a fearsome sword with a legend that it corrupts those who wield it and turns them into tyrants.
It once belonged to the Nibelungen family, renowned for their mastery of the sword during the Warring States Period, and became a sacred object of the rival Bahamut family. After the Bahamut family merged with the Baskerville family, it would have been stored in the deepest part of the Baskerville family's armory.
'...Why is it here?'
Vikir was puzzled for a moment.
But the question was soon answered. Bartolomeo spoke first.
"In his youth, this body was a very promising swordsman. So much so that the previous Lord of Baskerville, was so impressed with my talent that he gave me this sword as a gift to become his apprentice."
"...."
"You're pointing a sword at this body like that? Hehehe, well."
Bartolomeo tilted his feet sideways and stood in front of Vikir.
And.
Fit-
He leaped up with tremendous speed and landed on top of Vikir's body.
Boom!
Sword and sword. Bartolomeo and Vikir's auras collided in midair.
The impact shattered the jewelry and gold coins around them into dust and shards, which soon turned into a dense mist that spread in all directions.
...Boom!
Two shadows crossed over the two half-collapsed hills of gold coins.
Bartolomeo and Vikir each shifted to where the other had been standing.
It was Bartolomeo who flinched first.
blugh-
Dark blood dripped from his nose and mouth.
In his youth, Bartolomeo's body was comparable to that of Hugo the Ironblood Swordman's patriarch.
But much time has passed.
His untrained body has grown old, and rust has set in on the qualities that once shone so brightly.
"...But."
The corners of Bartolomeo's mouth twitched.
"Form may be temporary, but class is eternal."
At the same time.
Plugh-
A fountain of red blood erupted from Vikir's waist.
Clearly, Bartolomeo's counterattack had been effective.
The sharp sword edge of the Magic Sword Balmung had pierced through the protection of the Styx River and the regenerative powers of the Danger Rank S Monster Basilisk.
Vikir was forced to retreat with a wound so deep that his internal organs were visible.
... Thud! ... Thud! ... Thud!
Hot blood drops stain the cold, golden soil red.
Bartolomeo frowned at Vikir.
"Financial relationships are give and take, aren't they? I'm the kind of person who doesn't take on debt, so I always pay it back right away."
"...."
"You know what they say, there's no such thing as a free lunch. Everything has a cost, a consequence, a balance of totals. Some things you seem to get for free, some things you seem to lose because you're down on your luck, all end up costing you something in the end... hmm?"
Bartolomeo paused before speaking.
When he did, Vikir said briefly.
"I agree."
At the same time.
...Puff, puff, puff!
Fountains of blood gushed out of Bartolomeo's body with tremendous force.
"Huh?"
He had been so sharply impaled that he hadn't even realized that his body had been wounded.
The hound's teeth were indeed sharp. So sharp, in fact, that blood bled lazily from the wounds they dug.
Bartolomeo staggered back.
"Hehehe... This is such a cliché scene."
"You should be ashamed of yourself if you didn't realize you were cut."
Vikir remembered a time before the regression.
Of all the comrades he had shared countless battlefields with, there were a few who were exceptionally skilled with a sword.
Their swords were so fast and sharp that after a slash, blood would only drain after a few steps.
One time, he made a small cut on his thigh during a tournament and was puzzled that it didn't bleed, but when he walked back to his quarters after the tournament, a fistful of flesh fell off and a fountain of blood gushed out.
That happened even when he wasn't using his aura.
Vikir had been training in the Academy's Gravity Chamber for quite some time now to reach such a state, and it was paying off in a significant way at this moment.
...Snap!
Finished with his thoughts, Vikir swiped his magic sword, Beelzebub.
Despite colliding with the legendary magic sword Balmung, Beelzebub did not even receive the slightest scratch.
No wonder. The sword was forged from the remains of an ancient demon who had long ago ruled the demon world a long time ago.
Instead, Balmung over there just screams.
"Die now."
Vikir imbued the sword with an aura.
Swordmaster.
The solid aura stretches out, creating a slash of ridiculous size.
Swash! Swash! Swash! Swash! Swash! Swash! Swash! Swash!
The Eight Forms of Baskerville.
Thanks to his encounter with CaneCorso in the Grave of Swords, Vikir has learned to summon the Eight Teeth.
Dolores, meanwhile, was stunned.
'...You're even stronger than the last time I saw you!'
When they met in the orphanage, Night Hound had only managed to use six of those strikes.
It was only when she awakened and buffed him that he managed to use the seventh and slay Dantalian.
Although she doesn't know what kind of swordsmanship it is that is moving so strangely now..., what she does know is that Night Hound has become much stronger than before Dantalian.
"Kughh!"
Bartolomeo twisted his body and stepped back.
But with Madame's poison already in his blood, he didn't get very far, slipping under a pile of gold coins.
"Die."
Vikir plunged the sword deep into Bartolomeo's abdomen.
Phuuk-
Bartolomeo held Vikir's arm tightly even as blood spurted out.
"You think you're going to get away with this? As soon as the vault doors open, my men will be here. And I'll call the Imperial Guard...."
At that time.
Szzzz.
A white light descended from above and enveloped Vikir and Bartolomeo.
While the wounds on Vikir's body quickly closed.
"Kuahhhh!"
The wounds on Bartolomeo's body began to grow worse and worse.
It was like being set on fire.
"Do you think people will believe you after seeing this?"
Dolores stood on a mountain of gold coins, radiating white light.
She was holding up the Mirror of Truth, the prize for winning the University League, to Bartolomeo.
In the small mirror, Bartolomeo's true form was clearly visible.
An infinity deep and infinity black evil. That's its true nature.
"...!"
Vikir quickly turned and walked away from the mirror.
Dolores didn't bother trying to figure out who Night Hound was.
And then. Bartolomeo began to laugh.
"Hohohoho... Indeed, you've prepared a lot."
The screams of agony from a moment ago were nowhere to be seen.
Vikir retrieved his sword and backed away.
Dzzzzzzzzzzz....
A black aura enveloped Bartolomeo's entire body, lifting him into the air.
Decarabia, on Vikir's chest, warned in a gravelly voice.
[The play is over, the 6th Corpse is about to show its true colors].
"I know it when I see it."
Vikir pressed Decarabia back into his chest.
Then.
The 6th Demon King descended upon the golden hill in front of Dolores and Vikir, who looked uneasy and nonchalant.
Danger Rating : S
Size : ?
Found in: Deep within the Gate of Destruction, 'Serpent's Womb'
-Nicknamed the Sixth Corpse.
One of the Ten Plagues, natural enemies of mankind, incomprehensible and unkillable.
"Your body and your barns will boil with lice."
– 『Ten Commandments』 10: Top –
Belial, lord of greed and lies.
He was the 6th leading figure in the Age of Destruction.
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