Chapter 3: Hell Hound (3)

In the dimly lit communal nursery, the infant Vikir lay, his tiny body still unable to fully control its movements. As he suckled on the milk provided by his nanny, he reflected on the circumstances before returning.

At age eight, for the first time, he felt mana. In the outside world, he could be called a genius, but in the Baskervilles, he was just an ordinary person.

By the age of fifteen, Vikir had achieved a level of mastery over his mana, such that a faint aura surrounded his sword when he wielded it. And by twenty, he was being put to use by the clan for tasks such as assassination, intelligence gathering, and subjugation of barbarians.

But it was in his mid-twenties that Vikir truly began to distinguish himself. He lived and fought with a ferocity that surpassed even his peers, achieving a level of swordsmanship that would take others decades to reach. However, despite his prowess, Vikir's status as an illegitimate child meant there was a limit to how far he could rise within the clan. And when the gate to the Demon Realm opened and demons began to invade, Vikir was forced to endure an era of destruction and gain practical experience through killing monsters.

Finally, after years of struggle, the war against the demons was won and the human empire emerged victorious. But for Vikir, his loyalty to the Baskervilles proved to be his undoing. False accusations were leveled against him, accusing him of siding with the demons. And so, at the age of forty, Vikir met his end on the guillotine - a faithful hunting dog betrayed by those he had served all his life.

Wooosh

Vikir gritted his teeth, his intense hatred for Hugo Baskerville coming to the fore once again. The nanny, startled by his sudden movement, quickly pulled him out of her arms and laid him on the cradle.

"Ahh, young master sometimes grinds his teeth like this."

As the nanny prepared to leave, something unexpected occurred. She looked around the room before making her way to the other baby's cradle once more.

"Come on, you bastards. Drink milk."

The nanny started breastfeeding some of the children she had previously breastfed separately.

Baskerville's children are co-parented in one room, in order to bring up all children equally.

But which mother would treat her child and half-child the same?

Some mothers have memorized the characteristics of their children and then told the nanny to give them longer breastfeeding.

Of course, it was difficult to expect one for Vikir who did not know who his mother was, so he had no choice but to put all expectations aside.

"...…."

But then, a strange thing happened. The nanny who had just left returned to Vikir's cradle, muttering something about a "madam." The nanny then produced a large box from her bosom and placed it in his bed before quickly leaving again.

'Did I have any memories like this before returning?'

There was nothing.

He lifted his head laboriously and looked out of the cradle.

Vikir's cradle was quite far from the other cradles and he didn't feel good about something.

And his ominous premonitions always come true.

jizz

As he looked at the box in silence, he suddenly heard a hissing sound.

Something was squeezing the box, and two black triangular heads popped out. Vikir's heart raced as he realized that they belonged to a pair of deadly mambas.

It was also called the Seven Deadly Deaths because if bitten, one will die before taking seven steps.

It was a rare species that was rarely found in the public.

As he struggled to process what was happening, Vikir recalled the many cases of sudden infant deaths that had occurred in the nursery.

From the moment of their birth, children with extraordinary abilities had always been a rarity, revered, and feared by many. And for good reason, as it seemed that their exceptional gifts came with a dreadful price: a shortened lifespan.

For Vikir, this had never been a concern. He had believed himself to be immune to such fate, believing it to be the work of malicious enemies or simple bad luck. But as he found himself standing amidst a nursery targeted by an assassin, he realized that his own life could be in peril.

Jzzzzzzzzz

It was clear that the attack had come from within the family, an unsettling realization that left Vikir on edge.

Two venomous mambas slithered towards him, their bloody jaws already slick with the blood of their previous victims. Vikir knew that if he did not act quickly, the children in the nursery would be slaughtered, and the Baskervilles would suffer a catastrophe of unprecedented proportions.

'.... ... Well, that's not bad either.'

There is no such thing as an attachment to the family for Vikir.

But if the ruin begins with him, it becomes a problem.

Vikir stretched out his hand.

Going through the era of destruction, the demons have been attacked and killed countless times by his hands.

He had dealt with reptilian-type monsters, especially those in the shape of snakes, and, of course, he was well aware of their weaknesses.

Even the body of a newborn baby was enough.

GRAB!

With practiced ease, Vikir caught one viper in each hand, gripping them firmly near the nape of their necks. The pre-attacked snakes struggled to pierce him with their scales, but Vikir's body, hardened by the protection of the Styx River, rendered them harmless.

Vikir covered his body in mana. The mana barrel, which had been empty since birth, had filled up quite a bit. It was the result of breathing in the river Styx to the limit. His fists began to glow, and he knew that he could take on the wild beasts with ease. The babies in the nursery would only be able to match his level of skill in another eight years, but Vikir was already achieving it at less than eight months old.

Tsutsutsutsutsutsu...

The two vipers stiffened in fear, their bodies sensing the presence of a higher predator. They froze under the pressure of Vikir's mana-infused hands, before succumbing to the twisting force that broke their necks with a resounding crack.

The vipers opened their mouths wide, their eyes bulging and tongues lolling out. Their broken bodies trembled, releasing dung and urine, and poisonous poison dripped from their fangs.

.....

The following day, at the loud scream of the first nanny who arrived at work, the family guards swiftly gathered in the nursery room. There, holding two broken-necked vipers with a bright smile on his face, was Vikir.

The Guardian Knights were astonished to see the 'Red and Black mountain' poisonous mamba in the nursery, even with its fangs removed. The discovery of such a monster in the children's room was a great tragedy indeed.

Within moments, news of the incident reached Hugo, who hastened back to the parenting department. The nannies who had been on night shift were tortured and executed, and strict surveillance was established in the nursery. Despite the efforts made to uncover the culprit who had released the deadly poison, no one was able to find anything - except for one individual.

A young hound, unable to speak, had seen through the truth. Vikir Van Baskerville, a legendary child who had swum in the Styx River longer than any other, and had slipped through the cradle of swords in record time.

Vikir sat silently in his cradle, waiting for the perfect moment. A moment to pay off his debt, a time for revenge.

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And 8 years have passed.