The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound

Chapter 37: Slave Auction (3)

"The way to take down an underground economy is really quite simple, you just have to get to the heart of the matter between the dots.

Vikir repeated the words he'd spoken to the Chihuahua.

The vast underground economy of an underdog city, and the big players who control it.

Vikir already knew the place, thanks to his pre-regression knowledge.

But it would be impossible for a single man to take down such a large operation.

So Vikir had planned for this.

"I was wondering if I could borrow ....

A conversation with Hugo before leaving Baskerville.

I'm pretty sure that's when Vikir said

"I was wondering if I could borrow the Templars.

Hugo thought long and hard about it, and then granted permission.

He gave her the right to use one knight for half a day, a piece of House Baskerville's military power.

"I trust you will do nothing foolish. My son.'

The implications of giving up military power, however limited, were significant.

He recognized Vikir as his son and would treat him accordingly.

Thus, the Pitbull Knights, one of the pillars of Baskerville's military might, came under Vikir's control.

For the next six hours, all one hundred of the Graduators, the iron-blooded knights who are known for leaving no survivors behind, will be Vikir's subjects.

And now, Vikir was using them to sweep away the corruption of Underdog City in one fell swoop.

"Hugo was particularly sensitive to the military. It's a good thing we got the pit bull back in one piece.

Given Hugo's tendency to be extremely wary of local officials having private soldiers, it was expected that he would not give up his knighthood easily.

But Hugo's trust in Vikir was surprisingly strong, and it made things easier.

Vikir glanced at the group of Pit Bull Knights lined up behind him.

A Zagoro fighter must never show his teeth.

A third-rate fighter believes in his own strength and looks down on his enemies.

A second-class fighting dog reacts too quickly to the enemy's actions.

A first-class fighting dog has patience and composure, but not the life in his eyes.

And finally, the pinnacle of the fighting dog is as calm as an inanimate object, not reacting at all, no matter how furious or threatening the enemy is.

Woody Virtue

It's as if they were carved out of a tree.

In that sense, the Pit Bull Knights are a very disciplined group of fighters.

They now stood behind Vikir like chunks of wood, waiting for orders.

Vikir started the engine.

"Bite them all to death."

A hundred pit bulls bared their teeth.

Vikir shouted at the running dogs.

"Don't kill the ones that stay down. But if they move, kill them without mercy."

It was a warning.

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Vikir's words were loud enough for his enemies to hear.

Those who lost the will to fight quickly dropped their weapons, dropped to the ground, and raised their hands and feet upward.

The majority, however, could not.

"Aaaaah!"

"Aaaah help me!"

As she screamed and writhed, her head was mercilessly sliced off.

I could see her fat head rolling around under her fur coat, which was stained red.

The fleeing middle-aged man is disemboweled on the spot.

Men, women, and children alike were dying as they fled or screamed.

...That didn't mean that those who stayed down were unharmed.

"Ugh, let's just get down. We'll jump out when it's a little quieter."

Several people lay down on their stomachs on the floor and put their hands and feet up.

It was a sign that they were waiting for handcuffs.

But.

"We don't carry handcuffs."

A Pitbull Templar smirked as he stepped in front of them.

Just as they were about to ask what they were going to use to bind their hands and feet.

...Thud! ...Thud!

The Pitbull Templar's sword sliced through their limbs.

Wrists and ankles snapped off.

"Kaaaaaah!"

"Aaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!"

They crawled across the floor, showing signs of escape, and then quickly dropped like bugs.

The Pitbull Knights, of course, are completely unperturbed and launch themselves at the other moving prey.

Meanwhile.

Beside Vikir, a dark-haired, middle-aged man stands with a thick cigar in his mouth.

He is an imposing man with an inverted triangle of muscle, a square jaw, sunken cheeks, sunglasses shading his eyes, and scars all over his face.

Count Les Baskervilles, a Boston Terrier, asks Vikir.

"Nephew, are you satisfied?"

"Yes uncle."

"Hmph, boy. If there's anything else I can do for you, just say the word."

He was quite fond of his nephew, Vikir, for no particular reason, just because he liked the way the rice leaves fluttered.

The Boston Terrier figured it couldn't hurt to have a nephew who was also the favorite of his master, Hugo.

Vikir didn't feel bad for the Boston Terrier, who was not interested in power, honor, or political battles, but purely in blood and fight.

Just then, the Chihuahua beside him spoke up in a shaky voice.

"Your Excellency. But would you mind if I cut off their wrists and ankles like that, even though they're nobles?"

"What the hell, they're about to be executed anyway, and the handcuffs aren't worth the trouble, just make sure they can't get away."

Hearing Vikir's answer, the Boston Terrier Count laughed with even more satisfaction.

"Hmph, nephew, you must join our Pit Bull Knights someday. This uncle will raise you properly."

Vikir could only reply with a faint smile.

A minute or so later, the Pit Bull Knights stormed in and the situation was over.

It was literally over.

All the big bads in Underdog City were either dead or captured.

Of course, there were some who were casually absent, but that could easily be traced back to their captors' ledgers and contact records.

"This... is the greatest thing since sliced bread! It's so perfect!"

The Chihuahua shivered with excitement as he watched the criminals being led away in the distance.

The war on crime was suddenly declared, and it was over surprisingly quickly.

Now we'll have to clean up the mess, but that will be a piece of cake.

Even the indigenous families who lost their sons will not be able to say anything about it.

The future of Underdog City was clear, transparent, and bright.

"Congratulations, no one will dare to speak against Vikir now, will they...?"

The Chihuahua jumped for joy.

But Vikir, the one who should have heard it, was long gone.

* * *

"I think it was around ....

Vikir had already returned to the back of the auction house.

The slaughter was still going on in front of the stage across the way.

By this time, Vikir had slipped through the back unnoticed and made it to the warehouse where the auction items were being stored.

The warehouse was piled high with gold and silver treasures.

All paid for in cash by nobles visiting the city.

"...The tax revenue must be good."

All of this would be added to the city's treasury, and the Baskervilles' coffers would be even stronger.

I didn't like the idea of Hugo being happy, but it didn't matter now, so I let it go.

Vikir searched the warehouse for a while.

Piles of notes and ledgers.

He decided to keep all of them, as they would be valuable evidence in his future raids.

But there was something else he was really after.

Vikir grabbed a white cloth draped over a corner of the warehouse and pulled it open.

And there it was.

"...?"

What Vikir saw was not what he was looking for, but something completely different.

A cage, and a barbarian girl imprisoned in it.

The same girl who had been rampaging ferociously just moments before, cowering in the corner of the cage.

"...grunt, grunt."

A barbarian girl making painful noises.

Upon closer inspection, her entire body shows signs of abuse in addition to malnutrition. It looks like she was whipped outside the cage.

"She must have been corporally punished after biting the traders' fingers earlier.

Vikir clicked his tongue for a moment.

Then he reached into his belt and pulled out a potion reserved for the Templars.

He opened the door to the cell and sprinkled the potion over the girl's body.

Qi Yi Profit...

With a loud crackling sound, the wounds healed and new flesh sprouted.

The groaning girl opened her eyes to see Vikir inside the cage, and angrily hid in a corner.

Vikir stared at the barbarian girl.

A mixture of black and silver hair. Pointed ears. Charcoal-black makeup smeared across her face.

The familiar teeth and claw marks on his forearms and thighs.

"Cerberus?

A memory comes flooding back.

During his practical exam at the age of eight, Vikir had crossed the safety boundary and entered the waters of the Black Mountain with an enemy and encountered Cerberus, a Danger Class A+ demon.

He remembered that Cerberus' flanks were covered with arrowhead-shaped scars.

"Hmm. Could it be that the barbarian tribe that hunted Cerberus back then was...?"

It was a reasonable guess.

Meanwhile, the barbarian girl, now that her wounds had healed somewhat, was crouched in the corner of the cage, glaring at Vikir.

Vikir spoke briefly.

It means 'go.

The barbarian girl's eyes widened at the words.

Vikir shrugged his shoulders once.

'I can speak basic barbarian.

He had fought the enemy and the barbarians of the Black Mountains countless times before his return.

The barbarian girl's eyes widen in horror at Vikir's command to flee.

Only when Vikir leaves the vial with the remaining potion on the ground and walks out of the cage does the barbarian girl cower and follow him out of the cage.

"...."

She glared at Vikir for a few seconds before ripping open the tent and fleeing.

She took the vial of potion that Vikir had set on the ground.

The barbarian girl said something at the last minute, but she spoke too fast for Vikir to understand.

"Now, let's find what you really want."

Vikir turned and went back to his work.

Gold and silver treasures, notes and ledgers, checkbooks, antiques, art....

But there was something else Vikir wanted.

"Here it is."

With that, Vikir pulled aside the red cloth draped over the innermost corner of the auction room.

There lay a large, horned beast of burden.

<Murcielago, the Infernal Buffalo>.

Danger Rating: A

Size: 3 meters

Found in: Red and Black Mountains, Ridge 2

-A type of cattle that inhabits the Oil Realm in the depths of Hell.

It is said to have nineteen hearts and will not stop charging until they all stop.

Bing-bing-bing.

Beelzebub on the wrist was whining that he was hungry.

In the distance, the sound of the Pitbull Knights' swords and the screams of their enemies were getting closer and closer.

I had better finish my meal and get going.