Chapter 411: End game (5)
The deep furrows that are often engraved on the faces of veterans who have crossed all kinds of harsh lines of fire.
Wrinkles that look like scars under the corners of the eyes, the ferociously growing sideburns, the eyebrows thick and full enough to hide their coldly sunken eyeballs, the flat noses and square jaws.
His uniform, despite its wetness, was creased like a knife, buttoned all the way up to his neck, and a black fur coat resembling a lion's mane covered his broad chest and broad shoulders.
It was a perfect outfit, except for the crookedness of his belt buckle.
He was taller than anyone else in the place, and a club hung below his waist, with a sharp point of lead attached to the end.
'Orca Montreuil-sur-Mer Javert'. The head of prison at Nouvelle Vague.
Old Man, a symbol of Nouvelle Vague for nearly one hundred years, when generations on earth have changed several times.
chig-
Tapping the end of his cigarette against the flames on the ground, he scanned his surroundings with a lingering gaze.
A puff of cigarette smoke puffs out between cracked, salt-soaked lips.
"What is this?"
He pulled something out of his arms.
A pocket watch, blackened and shriveled.
Apparently, it was made of BDISSEM.
"I had a feeling something had happened to BDISSEM. No matter what...."
Then.
"Ooh, Orca, I've lived my entire life to get revenge on you, be prepared!"
A thunderous shout rang out from behind him.
It was Mammatamuz the Piercing Tusk, a prisoner of Level 9.
King of the Bandits, who once ruled an entire mountain range in his time on land.
A villain of a previous generation, so vicious that he had been sentenced to over 2,800 consecutive life sentences by the Nakajaniye Court.
He rushed forward with tremendous force.
Then he slammed his shoulder into Warden Orca's back with such force that the Major and Lieutenant Colonel guards who stood in his way were knocked to the ground.
peo-eong! udeudeug!
The sound of tearing hard leather and the shattering of hard objects within echoed through the area.
The result.
"Kuaaaaaaghhh!?"
It was a crushing defeat for Mammatamuz.
Broken shoulder blades ripped through the skin.
Mammatamuz fell to the ground in a heap.
Meanwhile, Major General Orca was still standing there, unmoving.
And then.
"... What the hell."
He raised one hand high in the air.
The gongs and spiked clubs followed Warden Orca across his arms and flashed upward over his heavy bald head.
And just like that, it struck the ground like a bolt of black lightning.
"What a sight!"
A deafening crash shook the earth.
Mammatamuz's head exploded, and with that as its epicenter, a massive seismic wave tore and twisted the surrounding terrain apart.
With one of Level 9's prisoners now dead, Warden Orca's anger was beginning to show.
Just by furrowing his eyebrows, the air around him cracked.
"Hehehe- It's Orca after all, he must have a taste for hunting."
"That old man can't even die."
"No, but he's not as strong as he used to be, he's old."
"He is, Mammatamuz. He had a big voice, but he wasn't really good at anything, was he?"
The prisoners of Level 9 snickered and began to close in on the encirclement, but Warden Orca was unfazed.
"Get lost, scum."
At the same time, his club began to wail ferociously.
The two white spots on the tip of the club's black head were swung like the head of a killer whale.
kwakwakwakwakwakwakwang!
Dozens of skulls exploded under the blow of the club.
Shattered skull fragments, brain water, and droplets of blood flew everywhere.
With a terrifying momentum, Warden Orca raised his club and began to beat the Level 9 prisoners to death.
With one sweep of his arm, blood spattered the walls and floor, and with one movement of his body, he split the crowd in half.
peo-eog! peo-eog! peo-eog! peo-eog! peo-eog! peo-eog! peo-eog! peo-eog!
Even the mighty monsters of Level 9 didn't dare to step in front of Warden Orca's club.
The gongs, thorns, and chains at the end of the club were soaked with human oil and blood to the point that their original colors were no longer visible.
"That's right. Where are D'Ordume and Souare, I thought they were here first?"
Warden Orca asked.
Lt. Colonel Bastille, whose face had been scratched by a wolf's claws, bowed down and said.
"With all due respect, ...they are collapsed over there."
At the words, Major General Orca's thick eyebrows knit together.
Turning his head, he saw two people lying on a slope with stairs leading down.
D'Ordume, face down on the floor, and Souare, face down against the wall, stunned.
Orca sighs at the sight of his two subordinates.
"Wake up."
However, both of the wardens turned their eyes upside down and made no movement.
A line of blood formed on Orca's forehead.
"...Wake up."
He spoke in an even quieter voice.
But perhaps because of the different weight of energy it carried, it was more effective than his previous words.
"Huh!?"
"Hugh!?"
D'Ordume and Souare snapped out of their reverie as soon as Major General Orca's words left their mouths.
They staggered to their feet and saluted.
"Salute! I see you, sir."
"Forget the salutes. Who made you look like that... No, never mind. Where did he go?"
"He, he went downstairs!"
Orca sighed again.
"I'll take care of this place on my own. You guys should chase after him and get revenge."
"...."
"No one with dirty debts will be the next head of the prison. You know that, right?"
Under Orca's glare, D'Ordume and Souare flinched.
At the same time.
ppa-ang!
The backs of D'Ordume and Souare's uniforms burst open at the same time, revealing their reddened, bare skin.
Major General Orca slapped them on the back with the palm of his hand to encourage them.
"Make sure you pay off your debts."
The Major General's plan was clear.
A man who ruined the face of the wardens and the prestige of the entire Nouvelle Vague in front of everyone.
The plan was to place all responsibility for this riot on him and execute him.
* * *
Nouvelle Vague Level 10. The labor camp on the 10th floor of the underground.
Deeper than Level 9, which was the deepest and harshest.
Vikir made his way to the work pit, the lowest in the Level 10.
Lava flowed, and flames in steam hung in the air.
The hot spring water bursting out from all over the place was bubbling and then evaporated and turned into steam before it fell to the ground.
As if that weren't bad enough, an unidentifiable sphere, engulfed in blue flames, lies in the center of the pit.
Poseidon. The ultimate goal that had driven Vikir to descend to Nouvelle Vague himself.
Aiyen asked.
"...You mean we should destroy it?"
"Something like that. We can shock it or infuse it with mana."
Finished, Vikir gave the test.
Baskerville 8th Form. Black Sun.
Vikir unleashed the most powerful attack he could unleash on Poseidon.
kwakwang!
Surprisingly, Poseidon didn't break.
It simply absorbed all of Vikir's mana, aura, and impact.
He didn't know if it was his mood, but the sphere seemed to swell a little more.
The blue flames burning around it were also a bit more intense.
Aiyen nodded.
"Alright, I'll give it a try."
She picked up the bow and arrow she'd taken from one of the guards.
Beside her, Vakira was preparing to shoot a flame from his mouth as well.
Then.
"Stop, you two!"
"What do you think you're doing!"
A voice interrupted Vikir and Aiyen from behind.
D'Ordume and Souare. They had come to their senses and were following closely behind.
Aiyen's expression turned sour.
"I saved your lives, and you came back without thanking me?"
"Hohoho- I'm so proud of the fact that I barely managed to get one hit in a surprise attack from the side."
Souare is no match for Aiyen.
D'Ordume also glared at Vikir with a tense demeanor, unlike before.
"I didn't realize you were so powerful that you reached the Supreme Realm."
"...."
"But I am not afraid. I'm not going to let my guard down and fall."
But Vikir was calmly analyzing the situation.
'They've already lost once, and they're coming after us, and they don't look scared. Does that mean...?'
After finishing his thought, Vikir shouted.
"Get back!"
Aiyen had just stopped lunging at Souare and immediately stepped back.
And then.
cheolpeog! cheolpudeog!
A blob of sticky slime landed where Vikir and Aiyen had stood just moments before.
kkulleong... kkulleong... kkulleong... kkulleong...
A huge plume of slime began to flow in front of Vikir's eyes.
The translucent green slime grew larger and larger, until it began to extend numerous tentacles behind D'Ordume and Souare.
As if to escort them.
"...I knew it. There was a part of me that believed in it."
Vikir swallowed hard.
It was a hasty misjudgment to exclude it from the escape plan, assuming it lacked intelligence and reason.
Brigadier General Flubber.
A strange substance that no one can determine with certainty whether or not it is a life form, and therefore no one can estimate its combat capabilities, had entered the fray.
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