The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound

Chapter 386: The Rotten Dog of Nouvelle Vague (4)

"...."

Kirko looked up, a puzzled expression on her face.

Normally, Garm would have been embarrassed and averted his gaze, but somehow he didn't care that Kirko was looking up at him.

But that was to be expected.

Garm was Vikir in disguise.

An escaped prisoner who became a guard overnight. Vikir was now standing here in the shoes of the dead Garm.

"Stay back, it's dangerous."

Vikir's words were not spoken for Kirko's sake, but to honor what he had learned from the diary.

-I want to show her the outside world.

-If I could just once show her the blue skies and salt-free lakes and wild animals running through the fields where I was born...

His wishes were now forever unfulfilled.

Vikir knew the wishes that Garm had left behind in his palm-sized diary, pressed tightly against the old, damp note so as not to smudge it.

And at the same time, he knew it was impossible.

Garm was already dead and gone.

'However... I can help this woman you wanted so badly to protect to the end, to get out of this place.'

As far as Vikir could see, Kirko had immense talent and potential, and could make a great contribution to the human race when she grew up.

So Vikir decided to protect Kirko as much as possible.

To raise her as a secret weapon of the Alliance, a sword that could be used against demons in the future.

'In my previous life, she probably died namelessly somewhere, but... that will not be the case in this life.'

That would be the way to honor Garm's will. It was a win-win situation.

With that, Vikir picked up his three-tiered baton, which had bent from being swung too hard, and began beating the prisoners in front of him with it.

Ppeoeog! Ppeog! Kwagik-

The skulls and eyeballs of the prisoners who charged at Kirko exploded.

Many had their teeth knocked out and their tongues cut out.

Suddenly, Vikir's attention was drawn to the face of a prisoner sprawled on the floor.

X

Seeing it, Vikir nodded.

'Hmm? It's been a while since I've seen him.'

There was no way he could not remember the mark he had once carved.

'Was your name Pal Euspear?'

They had crossed paths a few times during their time at the Colosseo Academy.

Vikir remembered the face and the name, having fought with him when he was in his dog form, starting with the time he'd scolded him for bullying Piggy when he was a new student.

'I heard you were punished for causing a ruckus in the Hell Tree.'

Although he was struggling outside the Tower, inside the Tower he was acting viciously against his cool classmates and seems to have suffered harsh political retaliation.

Vikir knew that he had character problems, but he didn't expect to see him again at Nouvelle Vague.

'Well, at least it's nice to see a fellow classmate.'

Vikir kicked Euspear one more time in the stomach in a gesture of goodwill.

He could feel his intestines rupture under his toes, but he didn't care.

From then on, Vikir continued to swing the three-tiered baton.

At first, he didn't have time to control his strength, but now he's got the hang of it and was able to subdue his opponent in moderation.

A moderate suppression that would only break a few teeth and fingers or dislocate a limb.

Prisoners who fought back would have their toes crushed by the heels of military boots, rendering them unable to stand at all.

All of this was done as naturally as water.

Vikir moved like a shadow between the fiercely fighting guards and prisoners, swinging his three-tiered baton with ease.

Already more than a dozen prisoners were bleeding to death as Vikir's three-tiered baton slithered soundlessly between their sides and crotches.

The thing was, neither the fallen prisoners nor the guards who had knocked them down and were blinded by excitement, see who had subdued so many prisoners.

... But.

Just one person. There was one person who watched Vikir's actions from start to finish.

Kirko. She was watching Vikir's every move with a mesmerized gaze.

'What is that? Was Garm always that strong?'

She had never seen Garm seriously engaged in suppression before.

He was born so gentle and kind that he was incapable of causing harm to others.

Every time Kirko saw him, she thought to herself, 'He doesn't seem to be fit to be a guard'.

If that's the case, then why did he come all the way here and suffer such hardships, she couldn't understand or empathize with him.

Kirko even felt a little pathetic.

...But the Garm she saw with her naked eyes was completely different from the image she had of him before.

Had he awakened after Sakkuth's riot?

The way he was beating the prisoners with his expressionless face, it was like he was a veteran among veterans.

It was like watching a mad dog who had spent his life harming others.

The stealthy movements, the outbursts of violence, the swirling strength, the outstanding combat prowess... but nevertheless, the emotionless demeanor!

All these things made Kirko feel a shiver run down her spine.

If there was such a thing as a perfect prison guard in the world, wouldn't it probably look like that?

"Kughh!"

Kirko scrambled to her feet and gripped the handle of her sword tightly.

Her back and legs throbbed, but she couldn't afford to rest like this.

As long as she was an ace, she couldn't afford to lose to the Stupid Garm, Nouvelle Vague's Rotten Dog.

"Hwaaaap!"

She joined the fray, shouting in triumph, and followed closely behind Garm.

Once again, the bloodbath was raging.

* * *

About twenty minutes later. The situation was completely under control.

The organizers of the riot were shackled in ever-larger and heavier BDISSEM handcuffs and led off to their cells, while the rest of the prisoners were thrown back into their cells in rags.

No medical treatment or meals, of course. Tomorrow, at 4am, the same labor will be imposed.

If they cannot endure it, they will die ...

The Major in charge of the suppression at the rear nodded with satisfaction.

"It was indeed a perfect suppression. We were a little overwhelmed by the madness of the prisoners in the beginning, but the second half was a game changer. Well done, boys!"

The Major was particularly salivating over the left wing of the suppression squad.

"The left wing, Group B, did a great job, and that's why we were able to make the early breakthrough so quickly. Who's in Group B?"

The major pushed his way through the bloodied and gasping junior guards to the area where the first prize of the day, Group B, was located.

And there in Group B stood Kirko.

The moment the major saw Kirko, he exclaimed.

"I knew it was you! You're even better than before! You cleared the prisoners on the left wing with such speed that the reinforcements were able to spread evenly to the right wing in time. Well done!"

At the Major's praise, all the lower ranking guards around Kirko looked at her with envious eyes.

But.

"...I didn't do it."

Kirko shook her head, denying the fact.

"There's someone else who did. Over there...."

Kirko, who was about to look back at Garm, paused for a moment.

Garm was not where he was supposed to be standing.

Behind them, with the cleaning team, he was cleaning up blood and stone debris.

This was something that was usually done by guards whose achievements were so minimal that they were excluded from public affairs.

'No, why is he in there....'

Kirko was about to open her mouth in disbelief.

"Such humility to give credit to your colleagues! What an example to follow!"

The Major nodded his head, clearly convinced that Kirko was the hero of the day.

Meanwhile, the other junior guards behind Kirko had their say.

"It's you, Kirko. You always do well in every riot."

"Well, this one was a bit of a riot, but you've beaten your own record, Kirko."

"She's a genius. She's not in our league. She'll be a captain in three years at least."

"That's true. Oh, and by the way, where the fuck did this asshole go?"

They soon started looking for an easy target for bullying.

Garm. Once again, the one behind the scenes.

The junior guards gave him a stern look.

"Hey, you didn't do anything this time, did you?"

"Didn't you catch another prisoner?"

"Anyway, I heard you were holding onto Kirko's ankles."

"Wow, Kirko must be really good to be able to take on such an idiot."

They began to giggle and throw punches at Garm.

Hitting him on the back, arms, and back of the head with their fists, stroking his hair, and so on.

... However, Garm's reaction was a little different than before.

"...."

After so many blows and so many swings, the three-tiered baton was bent.

The blood of the prisoners hadn't even dried yet, and it sliced through the lower abdomen of the junior guards in the blink of an eye.

Pug-pug-pug!

The sound of a hammer hitting a snail.

"Uh-hugh!"

"Kuagh!"

"Kuhughh!"

"Kehok!"

The four junior guards froze, clutching their stomachs.

"Hey, what is it?"

The Major turned his head to see Garm holding his stomach and supporting his four fallen comrades.

"It seems to be an acute stomach ache. I'm guessing it's from straining, so I'll take them to the infirmary...."

"Tsk tsk – I can't believe you're that nervous about this little riot. Fools."

The Major quickly turned his attention away from the junior guards.

Garm turned to his comrades, who were laughing at him, and stalked off.

"Now, my friends. Let's forget about the past and discuss the future."

His eyes were the same as they had been when he had subdued the prisoners earlier.

There was no hiding his power, no room for mercy.

And as she watched Garm's back, Kirko could only mutter quietly to himself.

" ... As expected, something is strange."

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