Episode 435: The Return of the Hunting Dog (2)

Episode 435: The Return of the Hunting Dog (2)

"It's been a while, everyone."

A low, low-pitched voice.

Dolores, Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinclair's eyes widened as if they had witnessed something incredible.

Bikir. Hounds of the night.

An old friend who had been imprisoned in the Nouvelle Vague four years ago was standing in front of me.

Taller height, wider chest and shoulders, sharper jawline.

Aside from the fact that a pretty boy whose gender seemed ambiguous has grown into a dependable handsome young man, the density of the aura felt from his tall, tall body has also changed to another level.

It feels like there is a huge mountain, or rather a mountain range, in front of your eyes.

It was like I had become a completely different person from the friend I remembered, but it felt even more real.

This means that the Bikir in front of you is the real Bikir that has been around for four years.

"… … Ha, but how?"

Dolores and Sinclair gape at Bikir.

Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca also had blank expressions, as if they had been entranced by the sudden reunion.

The first to come to his senses was Tudor.

"Bikir! Is that you? Is that you? "Are you my friend Bikir?"

"At least I think so."

"You bastard! You were worried! But why are you here? "What happened!"

"It's a long explanation."

"Then just explain briefly!"

"hmm. Right. "Then let me explain briefly."

Bikir, who walked away from Tudor, who seemed to rush to hug him at any moment, finished his summary after thinking for a while.

"I was trapped in the Nouvelle Vague. I escaped from prison. He came right away to assassinate Pasa Monte. "I've been hanging around the main castle for the past few days, looking for a moment to sneak in, but you guys went in first, so I followed you."

"… … "Is something too omitted?"

Everyone, including Tudor, thought the same thing.

But as Bikir said, there was no time for a detailed explanation.

[…] … kill. devil.]Vikir, who had become a Death Knight, began his movement.

… Quack!

Baskerville Type 4. Four teeth flew towards Vikir.

Each blow is powerful enough to split the earth and tear the sky.

Moreover, his skill level has already surpassed the master level.

However, Vikir did not lose his composure even in the face of a huge whirlpool of slashes.

"Is it 4 meals? "If that's the case, I'm pretty confident."

Bikir also deployed the Baskerville Type 4.

Since this is a swordsmanship that I have been practicing my entire life, the movements are as natural as breathing.

The four teeth viciously bit into each other's space.

Wood-dud-dud-deuk!

A few strands of hair and a few drops of blood fly.

After an offensive and defensive battle without giving up an inch, Death Knight Vikir gritted his teeth.

… Kuoooooo!

The black aura emanates even more strongly.

Death Knight Vikir has raised the level of swordsmanship to another level.

Baskerville Type 5. Five teeth pressed on Vikir.

Then, Bikir also raised his level of swordsmanship to another level.

5 meals vs. 5 meals. A storm of slashes that comes as if you are facing a mirror.

Fit- Squeak-

Flesh was flying and blood was pouring out.

Bleeding occurs little by little on both sides along the fine cracks resulting from left-right asymmetry.

[kill!]Death Knight Vikir has once again raised the level of swordsmanship to another level.

Baskerville Type 6. A ferocious attack typical of carnivores comes.

Bikir also responded with 6 formulas.

Blade against blade, sword tip against sword tip clashed, sparks flashed, and the battlefield was once again tightly balanced.

Next is Baskerville Type 7. The 8th Baskerville series follows. An equal number of equal numbers that continues.

Eventually, Death Knight Vikir took out the final card.

Baskerville Type 9. The ultimate murderous intent that destroys everything.

Kwa-gigigigigeek!

The dark red aura fluctuates steadily, carving away the rocks and hills around it.

Vikir, facing the net of slashes tearing apart the entire world, exclaimed in a low voice.

"… … Equation 9. "Is this the state beyond the threshold of death?"

Perhaps because it is in a fantasy world, the realms of life and death are ambiguous.

It was even more so because the fragments of the ego before my eyes were mixed with the experience of death I had experienced before returning.

Also, since it is a being that runs wild without reason, it is natural that it is aloof from life and death.

As a result of all of this being put together, Type 9 Baskerville was born with an extremely rare and coincidental probability.

Vikir is a type 8 Baskerville.

Even if they move up one level, they can no longer keep up.

That is the limit of those who live, or in other words, those who have a lot to lose.

"… … But in the end, it is just a by-product, a residue left behind when the wheel of fate rolls."

After completing a short evaluation, Vikir drew out the magic sword Beelzebub as long as possible.

… Flash!

Baskerville Type 8. The eight teeth produced by Vikir whirled towards the nine teeth in front of him.

"Vikir! "I'll help you!"

Dolores stepped forward though.

"Okay. "It's enough on your own."

Vikir refused Dolores' help.

It was necessary to save sacred power in preparation for the battle with the Sipsanshi that would follow.

Bikir also wanted to check how well his 8th meal had matured so far.

It was a good thing that I faced the Type 9 Baskerville as my opponent, which no one except the Cane Corso had ever climbed.

… Kwa-kwa-kwa-kwak!

Vikir's Type 8 and Death Knight Vikir's Type 9 collided.

Although they were drawing different trajectories, the essence was ultimately the same.

Because teeth exist in the first place to bite and hurt others.

Pakak-

Balance has been lost.

Surprisingly, the one that faltered first was Death Knight Vikir's Type 9.

[…] … !]Death Knight Vikir, who had never been pushed back before, took a step back for the first time.

His expression was distorted with embarrassment.

Bikir, who saw this, was confident in his judgment.

'It can't even be compared to the Cane Corso's Type 9.'

Certainly, each of the nine sword strikes produced by Death Knight Vikir is powerful and destructive.

However, it tended to wander around without a single clear intention or purpose, just playing separately in different directions.

Rather than nine hunting dogs each playing separately, eight hunting dogs working together in unison can catch a much larger and stronger game.

The current situation was exactly like that.

Woojijijijik!

The eight teeth created by Vikir rotated in a round sphere.

black sun.

This is the most efficient killing method that I learned indirectly from the Cane Corso.

After going through violent rotation and condensing into one place, it breaks the irregularly protruding teeth and gets stuck inside rough and heavy.

It looked as if a hard bowling ball had been thrown with all its might into the mouth of a wild beast with teeth.

Wow, crackle, crackle, crackle!

All nine teeth created by Death Knight Vikir were broken.

On the other hand, the eight teeth created by Vikir rushed towards Death Knight Vikir without a single one being broken or missing.

[…] … ! … … ! … … ! … … !]Death Knight Vikir was sucked into the center of the black sun, and even in the agony of his entire body being torn apart, he did not even utter a single scream.

He just glared at Vikir with his blazing pupils.

[…] … The devil is.]Soon, Death Knight Vikir crawled out between the slashes.

[kill!]however.

"He who fights the devil must be careful not to become the devil."

What was waiting for Death Knight Vikir who squeezed through the cracks of the black sun was an even bigger black sun.

"It's a shame that he has become no different from the devil."

Another black sun was placed on top of the black sun.

Wow!

Two huge black spheres interlock and rotate like clockwork.

Death Knight Vikir, crushed by the pile of slashes, finally let out a single scream.

[G-ahhh!]A body cut up in a miserable manner. But what's worse is that there is no place to relieve this anger that is boiling like wildfire in your heart.

[…] … devil! die! die! Devil die!]Death Knight Vikir was struggling, scratching the ground with his bloody, rag-like body.

The determination to kill the opponent at any cost.

Those who have gone through the era of destruction all harbor extreme anger and resentment in their hearts.

And the words of those who were born as hunting dogs and survived such times are mostly similar.

A collapsed ego, dogmatic hatred, and anger that exploded after being suppressed and repressed.

"… … ."

Bikir looked down at the figure and was lost in thought.

Dolores thought as she looked at the side of Vikir's face.

'What are you thinking?'

Death Knight Vikir is Vikir's alter ego, a fragment of unconsciousness.

As a being who has become stronger by mulling over and over old grudges, he symbolizes and represents Vikir's inherent hostility towards the devil.

And what is Vikir thinking as he looks at a being no different from himself?

'… … You'll be sad. 'You must feel nostalgic.'

Dolores cried as she looked at Bikir.

Who would be okay even after seeing a self-portrait that is so horribly ruined?

Is there anyone who wouldn't be shaken even when faced with that terrible scream, that horrifying cruelty?

… … .

… … It was right here.

"the best."

Vikir smiled slightly as he looked at Death Knight Vikir struggling and scratching the ground.

"It's the best material. "It's worth it to come into the fragments of the Maw Tree."

Ignoring everyone's confusion, including Dolores, Bikir untied the bag tied to his waist and held it in his hand.

Patter-patter-patter-patter-

Then he shook out the things inside and threw them on the ground.

"Eat a lot."

They look like black kidney beans.

"… … ?"

Everyone, including Dolores and Sinclair, widened their eyes.

As soon as they hit the ground, black lumps crawl towards the Death Knight Vikir in front of them.

They were clearly reacting to the strong scent of blood emanating from Death Knight Vikir's body.

'Black-tongued leech'.

It was a secret weapon brought in by Bikir from Nouvelle Vague.