Revenge of the Iron-blooded Sword Hound

Revenge of the Iron-Blooded Sword Hound Chapter 395

[Translator – Clara]

[Proofreader – Lucky]

Chapter 395: The Worst Torture (6)

Four months had passed since then.

“Today is a joyful day! Time for the most awaited ceremony!” Captain Bastille exclaimed with tears of joy, as the modest ceremony of Nouvellebag was underway.

It was the ‘Promotion Ceremony.’

Although it wasn’t the formal promotion ceremony that occurred quarterly, it had all the trappings of one for an impromptu event.

Amidst the applause of everyone, the promoted individuals stepped forward onto the stage.

Captain Bastille, responsible for the ceremony, embraced each promoted individual tightly with tears in his eyes.

Among them, Captain Bastille embraced Vikir the strongest and longest.

“Congratulations, Captain Garam Nord!”

Garam Nord, originally a low-level Lieutenant, had been promoted two ranks to become a Captain.

It was a groundbreaking promotion among the lower-ranking guards.

Yet, what was even more surprising was that despite Vikir’s rapid promotion, no one considered it unreasonable.

“After all, Captain Garam Nord consistently exceeded the workload assigned to other guards. Just considering his merits alone, promotion to Captain was inevitable.”

“Moreover, he subdued the riot of Level 8 prisoners four months ago. That alone was proof of his capability. It was sufficient for promotion to Captain.”

“Anyway, it would have been natural for him to be promoted two ranks over time… Head Captain Bastille is just adding some color to it now.”

“That’s nonsense. According to regulations, promotion by two ranks requires a background check and a thorough investigation of one’s life. Not to mention, it usually takes months, scrutinizing even the smallest details. Captain Bastille waived those processes because he favors this young friend.”

Everyone welcomed the new guard, Captain Garam Nord, with enthusiasm.

Given that they had avoided punishment or demotion due to the riot, their jubilation was understandable.

Head Captain Bastille personally pinned the captain’s insignia adorned with three diamonds onto Vikir’s chest and said, “After your actions, the rioter, Sakkuth, was confined to solitary for three months. Since then, he has been diligently working.”

“That’s good to hear. I believe it’s the result of everyone’s courageous efforts.”

“You’re modest. Among them, you were the bravest. But…”

Captain Bastille lowered his voice subtly.

“How did you manage it, Garam? If what you said about that rioter being so stubborn is true, how did you convince him so easily?”

“I didn’t say much. I simply persuaded him logically. There’s nothing good about causing a riot.”

“Hmm, is that so? Well then, that’s fine. It’s not something to discuss here anyway. Well, there will be more opportunities to talk later.”

Captain Bastille, generally considered a strict officer, seemed somewhat amused by Vikir’s straightforward response.

Finally, Vikir received the enhanced weapon and appointment letter reserved for ranks above lieutenants and descended from the stage.

Thud!

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As expected, Vikir chose the truncheon as his weapon.

[It fits snugly in your hand, doesn’t it?] It was indeed the weapon that Garam had used throughout his life, but it also suited Vikir surprisingly well. For Vikir, who had lived his whole life as an assassin or a swordsman, there hadn’t been many occasions to use a truncheon designed for subduing and restraining rather than killing.

‘But the more you use it, the more it grows on you, isn’t that right?’ The cold touch against the palm, the rough sensation of the handle, the elongated end that produced a cheerful noise with each swing. It was a weapon that appealed to him in various ways. It almost felt like discovering a second nature.

[Human. Are you swinging the other way now?]

“Hmm. Rather than killing, is it about not killing? In that case, it’s possible.”

[No, not that… I meant the way you’re holding the truncheon…]

“?”

*thunk*

Decarabia muttered incomprehensible words once again.

After silencing Dekarabia, Vikir descended from the stage. Now that he had achieved the desired rank of captain, it was a satisfying outcome.

* * *

Thunk—

Vikir closed the door.

His newly assigned private quarters, following his promotion to captain, were much more pleasant than the cramped and dingy space. The fifteen-square-meter stone chamber was neatly arranged. Although the dampness mixed with salt lingered, it was equipped with a window that allowed a view outside and a separate shower facility, far superior to the quarters of the lower-ranking guards.

Vikir approached the window to gaze outside. Behind the thin foam created by mysterious mucous-like substance, a dark abyss stretched out. However, the view was quite clear, thanks to the illuminated coral reef and bioluminescent jellyfish colonies emitting a faint glow below.

In the distance, he spotted a massive shadow undulating in the water.

“….”

Vikir stood by the window for a while, observing the unknown deep-sea creature swimming.

Then…

Tap-tap—

The sound of a knock on the door echoed.

“Captain Garam, may I come in?”

A cold and firm voice.

As Vikir remained silent, the door opened shortly after.

Standing outside the threshold was a woman in uniform. It was none other than High-Level Lieutenant Kirko.

Since Vikir had received his captain insignia, Kirko had become his subordinate. Kirko herself claimed it was a natural administrative assignment, but Captain Bastille’s testimony had a slightly different tone.

“Kirko, who had consistently refused to be anyone’s subordinate, didn’t seem to resist the administrative order to become your subordinate. Haha…”

Vikir recalled Captain Bastille’s inexplicably pleased expression as he gazed at him.

Vikir shifted his gaze from the window scenery and turned his head.

“What’s the matter?”

A natural demeanor, as if the relationship between superior and subordinate had always been there. Yet Kirko, too, seemed to accept this change as natural.

“Prisoner Sakkuth on Level 8 has had another seizure.”

“Is this the first time since solitary confinement?”

“Yes, it is.”

Vikir nodded in response to Kirko’s report.

Soon after, Vikir grabbed his truncheon and left the room.

And then…

“….Ah.”

Vikir turned as if he had forgotten something.

“?” Kirko tilted her head in curiosity.

What Vikir brought out of the room upon turning was a thick tome of rune scripture. Seeing it, Kirko opened her mouth with a peculiar expression.

“Captain.”

“Yes?”

“Do you believe in religion?”

“To some extent.”

“I haven’t been to the surface, so I don’t know much about surface religions… but I’ve heard they’re quite corrupt. They take money to absolve sins.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“Well, my point is, I want to ask if this book would help calm the prisoners. That’s all.”

In response to Kirko’s question, Vikir gave a dry smile.

“It could.”

The answer was brief.

Eventually, Vikir descended the steep spiral staircase and reached Level 8.

The echoing sound of stone walls and floors could be felt from the entrance of the prison.

“I’m being executed?! Where’s the justice in that! After enduring solitary confinement and working hard on labor duty! The Level 10 construction site even swelled up like crazy with that blue shit! It’s not my fault! Uwaaah!”

Sakkuth’s voice resonated throughout the corridor. It seemed to be a protest against the imminent death sentence.

Captain Bastille was considered generous or overly cautious, depending on the perspective. He was a person who wished to minimize variables as much as possible for his upcoming promotion.

To Captain Bastille, Sakkuth was nothing but a thorn in the side, a volatile element who might cause trouble at any moment.

“….He might need to be unofficially executed quietly,” Bastille muttered to himself.

Manipulating the situation to his advantage was one of his specialties.

Meanwhile, Sakkuth continued to rant, scattering a mixture of mold, sulfur, and various types of soil.

Sakkuth, frothing at the mouth, suddenly calmed down.

Startled by Sakkuth’s sudden change in behavior, the guards who had been struggling to restrain him also turned their heads in surprise.

Garam stood there.

“Seniors, could you please step aside for a moment?” Garam (or rather, Vikir) politely requested, and all the guards nodded their heads, stepping back.

However, Kirko remained steadfastly by Vikir’s side.

Vikir addressed Kirko, “You should step back too.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I am captain Garam’s subordinate. I must always be by your side.”

Kirko’s response, delivered with an unwavering expression, revealed her determination and stubbornness.

Vikir nodded slightly in acknowledgment.

Eventually, Vikir stood in front of the iron bars where Sakkuth was confined.

“In a week, you’ll be executed.”

“….”

“Accept the consequences of your actions.”

Sakkuth, confronted with Vikir’s cold voice, remained silent, only glancing around nervously.

The guards stood ready behind him, prepared for Sakkuth’s potential outburst.

Then, Vikir passed something through the window bars.

It was a rune scripture book.

“Read this until your execution. And repent.”

“….”

Sakkuth took the scripture book with trembling hands. Fixing his gaze on the pages, he began to flip through them.

Suddenly, his pupils dilated in shock.

He saw small writing on the middle pages of the scripture: ‘Time is running out. D-7.’

A hidden message.

Upon seeing it, Sakkuth quietly sank to the ground, tears streaming down his face.

“I admit my guilt. I will accept everything.”

Sakkuth’s sudden change of demeanor shocked all the guards present.

“Unbelievable, that lunatic suddenly quieted down like that…”

“Can’t believe my eyes.”

“Garam! What on earth did you do?”

The guards, who were destined to endure the guy’s antics for the next week, sighed with relief as if they had just served a ten-year sentence. They crowded around Vikir, demanding to know what method he had used.

Vikir replied in a dry voice, “It was nothing special. I simply gave him hope.”

Of course, that hope was false. In a week, he would be executed, and there would be no change in fate.

‘…Hope is truly the worst kind of torture,’ Vikir thought bitterly, understanding it keenly, having lived through the era of destruction.

There was no salvation at the hands of others. The only one who could save oneself was oneself.

Turning away from the now subdued Sakkuth, Vikir began to plan not a false escape promised to Sakkuth, but a ‘real’ one.

‘Escape from Nouvellebag is not just any escape,’ Vikir mused.

As Vikir predicted, when night hound is released from this prison, many things in the world will change. It would serve as humanity’s declaration of war, heralding the beginning of the era of complete annihilation, announcing mankind’s readiness to face the world where demons roamed.

[Translator – Clara]

[Proofreader – Lucky]