The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound

*****

*****

Chapter 164: Sin and Punishment (3)

[Ah, no! Sister! I’m scared!]

[Brother! Save me!]

[Someone, please help!]

The faces of crying children.

Dantalian seemed to have captured the faces of the children trying to escape from the orphanage and devoured them.

Vikir recalled the strange regulations/rules he had seen at the orphanage not long ago. They were probably designed to scare the children to prevent them from running away and to ensure that no one would help those who escaped.

And with this newfound knowledge, Dolores was able to conjure a much more intense Holy Fire than before.

…Ssshhhh!

A pure white flame began to engulf Dantalian’s entire body.

[Aaargh!?]

With the sound of his flesh burning, Dantalian convulsed in agony, but Dolores couldn’t see it.

“Evil… the epitome of evil… this wicked creature!”

She didn’t have many curses in her vocabulary.

Tears were streaming from her eyes, clouding her vision.

Shee couldn’t meet the agonizing gazes of the children in the flames, and she lowered his head.

Her innate holiness was at an extraordinary level, but she hadn’t yet accumulated practical experience in effectively manifesting it, which was what had happened.

…But there was a skilled hand to complement that.

Sheek!

Vikir. The night hound, once again, bared his sharp fangs and bit into a chunk of Dantalian’s flesh.

“This is a chance.”

Dolores, as she created the Holy Fire, watched as Dantalian writhed in excruciating pain.

If she could slowly carve Dantalian’s body with her blade right now, victory was within reach.

…Fwooosh!

An aura, almost solid, oozed from Vikir’s blade.

Representing the Peak graduator, this viscous aura was now almost solid.

[Grrgh!? How dare a human…!]

Dantalian, consumed by the white flames, rose and drew out his purple tounges.

Chaang! Chang! Thud!

Vikir’s sword clashed fiercely with Dantalian’s purple tongues.

In the blink of an eye, the high-speed exchange of blows continued.

But the experienced Vikir, despite Dantalian’s demonic speed, managed to keep up the pressure.

Ttwaang!

Vikir’s blade struck Dantalian’s tounge, and he felt his wrist vibrate.

“…Certainly stronger than Andromalius.”

Andromalius, who had possessed the body of Seth Baskerville, was also one of the ten supreme demons. However, the difference lay in the fact that back then, the Knights of Baskerville had fought alongside him, and Hugo Le Baskerville had been the one to finish the battle. But now, Vikir was locked in a 1:1 battle with Dantalian, eventhough he had a powerful ally.

“Night Hound! Step back for a moment!”

Dolores channeled white flames into her hands, creating a barrier.

Amid the lightning-fast exchange of blows, without blinking an eye or taking a breath, Vikir, swinging his sword, could finally step back and recoup behind the barrier.

Zzzzz…

The white-hot radiance that consumed Dantalian threw him far away.

However, Dantalian showed no sign of desperation.

[Hehehe! The first ones to corner me like this. Interesting.]

“Interesting? Let’s see if you can say that before you bite the dust.”

[Die? Are you trying to kill me now? Hoho, your determination surely overflows.]

Dantalian extended the face of a mustached gentleman but soon spoke calmly.

[Yes, indeed. All humans believe they are special. They think they’re the chosen ones. Heroes who can kill demons and bring peace to this world. Protagonists, and all that.]

His face then transformed into that of a seductive woman, followed by that of an innocent child, a stubborn man, and a malicious old man in rapid succession.

A Thousand-Faced Demon. It was indeed one of Dantalian’s most powerful abilities, That directly struck the heart of the attacker.

[But no, that’s not it. In reality, everyone in the world is special. They are all heroes, lovers, fools, and villains. They all have their own unique stories.]

Simultaneously, Dantalian exhaled a thick black mist from his mouth.

The mist filled the entire space in an instant, much like the smoke spewed by a fire.

Fluttering—

Three unpleasant objects fell in front of Vikir and Dolores.

They were similar to the black cloth sacks that Epebo, Hebe, Peto, and Geronto had worn on their faces before.

The sack on the far left writhed.

…Rustle!

The thin cloth sack’s outer surface displayed pulsating blue veins.

After a while…

…Rustle! …Rustle! …Rustle!

The three black coth sacks began to move as if they had gone mad.

The eerie convulsions resembled a death row inmate writhing in his final moments when the executioner carried out his sentence.

Dantalian’s voice, filled with satisfaction as if he had already peered inside the sacks.

[…Now, shall we hear your stories?]

*****

*****

Amidst the thick mist, Dolores searched frantically for Dantalian, who was hidden behind it.

“What is this mist? It doesn’t even disappear with my divine power.”contemporary romance

“…Be careful.”

Vikir had already experienced Dantalian in his past life.

Therefore, he had some predictions about his attack patterns.

After a while, one of the three black sacks floating in mid-air suddenly opened wide.

Vikir spoke with a dry voice.

“That’s the ‘sack of Shame’ that Dantalian, the thousand faced demon, carries around.”

“…?”

As Dolores tilted her head in confusion, the sack of Shame seemed to change its course towards her and something was pulled out from inside.

Dolores’s expression turned to horror when she saw what came out of the sack.

“Ah! What is that!?”

What emerged from the sack was none other than Dolores herself.

[…]

Fake Dolores looked at the real Dolores with an expressionless face.

Vikir calmly explained, “The sack of Shame makes the target show an embarrassed expression. It’s a psychological attack that brings their most shameful memories to life.”

In other words, what was in front of her was the exact recreation of the most embarrassing memory of Dolores in her life.

This would not only shatter her camaraderie with her comrades in an instant, but it would also disrupt her composure, making it a truly terrifying technique.

…However?

Ssshh—

Fake Dolores, who had walked out of the sack of Shame, didn’t do anything.

…She just wet her pants.

“…?”

“…?”

Vikir and Dolores both fell silent as if by mutual agreement.

“D-Die!”

Dolores immediately used the white divine flames, blowing away the sack of Shame.

[Argh!? What is this? How did you overcome the sack of shame so easily?!]

From behind the mist, Dantalian’s bewildered cries were heard.

It seemed that overcoming this illusion caused damage to the demon on the other side.

Afterward, the next sack began to move as if it were alive and opened its mouth towards Dolores.

Vikir’s expression stiffened.

“The next is the ‘sack of Terror.’ It makes the target show a terrified face. In other words, it pulls out the person the victim fears the most.”

After a while, the thing that came out of the sack of terror stood in front of Dolores.

It was the face of a middle-aged man with a stern expression.

Vikir immediately recognized the face.

‘Humbert L Quovadis!’

The leader of the Old Testament faction and Dolores’ father.

As Humbert’s face appeared, Dolores’ expression froze.

“Ah, Father…”

She was so startled that she couldn’t even speak properly.

[Dolores, why are you wandering outside at this hour? Have you finished all the assignments I gave you?!]

Bishop Humbert looked down at Dolores with an authoritarian attitude.

The whip on his hands was making Dolores quite nervous and fidgety.

“That… that…”

Dolores couldn’t meet Humbert’s gaze, and cold sweat began to flow from her forehead.

At that moment…

Thwack—

There was a strike that beheaded Bishop Humbert.

It was Vikir. He had intervened in Dolores’s memory.

“…Illusions are just illusions. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

When Vikir’s voice reached her, Dolores finally exhaled the breath she had been holding.

Cold sweat was dripping from her cheeks to her chin.

“I’m… I’m sorry. My father and I don’t get along well. I forgot it was just an illusion for a moment.”

“…I understand.”

Vikir simply nodded without any further questions.

After a while, only one sack remained.

“…That one is the ‘Sack of Love.'”

Dolores nodded when she heard Vikir’s explanation.

By now, she had a good idea of what would come out. Probably the face of the person she loved.

Dolores, on the other hand, was unable to predict which face would appear. She didn’t have any memories of loving someone with certainty.

Of course, she followed the Rune Religion’s law to “love thy neighbor,” but Dantalian’s definition of “love” was likely different from that.

Afterward…

Tsst, tsst, tsst, tsst…

What came out of the sack of Love began to take shape.

It was the form of a common-looking man.

He was dressed in a black cloak, wearing a reversed hat, and had a strange mask resembling a crane’s beak covering his face.

It was Night Hound.

“…?”

“…”

For a moment, an awkward silence hung between Vikir and Dolores.

“Is this…?”

“Oh, it’s not me! This sack is strange! It’s… showing weird people… Ha-hahaha~!”

When Vikir slowly turned his head, Dolores hastily waved her hands.

At that moment, from beyond the mist, Dantalian’s mocking voice could be heard.

[Hoho! My sack is honest, even more so than the target! It can capture even the tiniest emotions hidden deep within! It can even extract emotions you didn’t know you had!]

In response to his statement, Dolores’s face turned bright red.

“Wait! I’m innocent! I swear! Well, maybe not swear, but I really haven’t…!”

“…”

Vikir didn’t say anything this time either. He simply drew his sword and prepared to confront the fake Night Hound.

“Clang—Bark! Thud!”

Vikir, backed by saintess’ holy fire, swiftly thrust his sword into the Night Hound’s body, and the illusion was reduced to mistt.

“Luckily, it seems that it can’t reproduce the power of the original body.”

Perhaps it was because Dantalian had not accumulated enough magical power yet.

Back before the Regression, when they had met in the era of destruction, Dantalian could reproduce not only the faces but also the powers of the individuals from the target’s memories.

Vikir was relieved that he had discovered Dantalian sooner rather than later.

Meanwhile…

“…”

Saint Dolores was fumbling for words, unable to say anything.

Vikir was contemplating what to say to her when…

…Rumble!

The three sacks started moving again.

[Hoho-ho-ho. To be honest, I didn’t expect much from the saintess. What experiences can an amateur like her possibly have?]

“…”

[But I expect more from you,]

Dantalian’s words were directly aimed at Vikir.

A demonic technique that could draw out and manifest a target’s shameful memories, fears, and loved ones.

Now, it was unfolding before Vikir’s eyes.

Soon after…

Tsst, tsst, tsst, tsst…

The first sack, the “sack of Shame,” began to explore Vikir’s memories and started manifesting them in the real world.

After a while…

Something appeared from the mist.

“…EEk!?”

It surprised Dolores.

[…Huh?]

Even Dantalian, who had created the illusion, was speechless.

The sky was painted blood-red. Mountains of corpses. A river of blood.

In the center of the desolated world, a lone pillar stood.

Dolores’s gaze naturally moved to the top of that pillar.

And there, imprinted deeply in her retinas, was “something.”

A severed neck.

One severed neck, prominently displayed.

*****

*****

done.co