Revenge of the Iron-Blooded Sword Hound

The hunting dog of Baskerville family. He was branded as a Traitor and executed. He was abandoned at the last moment. ……………… Now, he is back….40 years in time. "Now they will be my prey…..and i will bite every single one of them to death." . . [This novel does not belong to me; all rights belong to its author. I merely upload it, and translation credits go to: PindangScans.] Original Author: Regobal Basso/레고밟았어 Official page: https://m.series.naver.com/novel/detail.series?productNo=6750429

Zeom · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
493 Chs

The Hound of the Nouvelle Vague (4)

Sakkuth froze in the presence of the killing intent, a killing intent that could not even begin to compare to the killing intent that Garm had exuded just moments before.

It was so thick that it was almost visualized in the target's eyes.

It was the shape of a black dog, with bulging eyes, gaping maw, and razor-sharp teeth. It was like a blazing fire, ready to bite and tear the world apart.

And then, slowly, the one who exudes such deep killing intent revealed himself.

The dog that emerged from behind the gutted dog was no ordinary dog. It was a hound, It was also a hellish dog that specializes in biting and killing demons.

Vikir's red pupils reflected the shrinking of the dog.

"Stop right there."

The words were spoken in a calm tone, but there was a frighteningly understated violence in his voice.

Sakkuth recognized it and took a step back.

Two years earlier, Sakkuth had been beaten to a pulp once while arguing with Vikir.

'You should know whether you're the predator or the prey.'

He still gritted his teeth when he remembered the days he spent trying to get the nails out of his mouth.

However, he couldn't just bend over and take it, because if he were to be imprisoned in Level 9, he would have to face it.

Sakkuth opened his mouth to growl.

"What if I don't want to? I'm already in trouble. It can't get any worse."

"There's a basement under the floor. If anything, I can show it to you now."


Vikir spoke so nonchalantly.

But knowing how much raw madness and violence lurked beneath that calm expression and soft-spoken tone, Sakkuth couldn't say more.

Vikir does not bluff.

If he says he's going to show you the floor, he's going to show you the floor, and if he says he's going to show you the basement, he's going to show you the basement.

Sakkuth had seen Vikir for the past two years, and he knew it well.

'Crazy asshole. What kind of child's eyes are those....'

Vikir's face is a typical nobleman's handsome face, but his eyes are filled with hatred and the killing intent that has been brewing for centuries.

How many fierce and deadly firing lines does one have to cross to have eyes like that?

Even Sakkuth, who had been conducting illegal human experiments and genocide on countless human beings, could not have dared to imagine.


Sakkuth glared at Vikir with bloodshot eyes.

Then, through clenched teeth, he spoke.

"I will not forget what happened today. I will retaliate."

"If you can, do it. But you'll have to do it fast."

Vikir brought up a topic of interest.

"I'm getting out of here today."


Sakkuth's mouth opened halfway in disbelief.

Then he started giggling.

"Now I know you're crazy. You're going to break out of Nouvelle Vague?"


"What 'He' could not do in the end is escape from prison. What kind of guy are you...."

At this point, Vikir was getting impatient.

"What makes you think jailbreaking is impossible?"


"Is that all you can think about?"

He frowned at Vikir's blunt question, not quite sure what he meant.

Then Vikir smirked at him.

"You think you've been abandoned, but you haven't."


"That's because I think well of you."

Vikir's piercing gaze swept over Sakkuth's entire body.

"I've been watching you for the past two years. You're weak, and you don't have much muscle, but I like your brashness and your ability to take action. Your loyalty is strong."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You'll find out soon enough. After I break you out of here."

He clicked his tongue in disbelief, then turned away.

"It's a move that's not worth dealing with. Don't talk nonsense like jailbreak. Because one day I will definitely kill you with my own hands."

But even as he spoke, there was a glint of agitation in Sakkuth's eyes.

Vikir caught the slightest shaking of his pupils with the unique sense of an experienced hound.


Sakkuth quickly jumped out of the rocky canyon and ran beyond the wasteland.

He spewed out a blood mist filled with plague aura.

" ... You have the perfect personality to take advantage of."

That was Vikir's assessment of the vanishing figure.

With that, Vikir turned his head to look at the two guards on the ground.

Lieutenant Kirko.

She was unconscious with a large wound on her forehead.

Large eyes, a sharp nose, a stubborn-looking mouth, a face so pale it hadn't seen the sun because of the depths of the ocean, and long hair down to her waist.

This is a typical imperial beauty.

If it weren't for the uniform and the sword, she could have been mistaken for a courtesan.

"Is she dead?"

Vikir cupped the back of Kirko's head and traced the veins in her neck.


Kirko's brow furrowed and an involuntary groan escaped her.

The blood had stopped, at least, though she was still breaking out in a cold sweat and her body temperature was dropping.

A faint heartbeat told him that she was alive and well.

'She's a lucky woman.'

With proper hemostasis and prolonged rest, she should be able to recover without too much trouble.

...The problem was Garm.

'It's bad.'

At first glance, Garm's condition was disastrous.

His body had already been damaged beyond repair by his continuous clinging to Sakkuth.

His bones had been crushed to powder, and the fragments had pierced through his intestines and burrowed deeply into them.

Apart from that, the pressure inside his body had exploded, rupturing all of his vital organs that controlled his metabolism, and his body temperature was rising to an abnormal level, which seemed to be the result of being contaminated by the poisonous aura.

Of course, if he were taken to the temple immediately and given intensive treatment by the high priests, he might be able to survive, but that was unlikely to happen here in Nouvelle Vague.

Death. Inevitable.

It seemed clear that if left like this, Garm would be dead within minutes.

In excruciating pain, like every nerve in his body was on fire.


"I... Ki...."

Garm opened his mouth to say to Vikir.

"Are... you... there...?"

Both of his eyeballs exploded, and he couldn't see.

He spoke bravely through his broken teeth and severed tongue.

Vikir stood by his side and listened to his last words.

His hand flailed weakly, grasping at thin air.

It was like holding the hand of a loved one.

"I wanted ... to show that... girl... the outside world... and... but...."

The last words didn't flow into a nice, complete sentence like they do in comics and novels.

Instead, his voice broke off mid-sentence, haltingly and hollowly, and his body sagged completely.


Vikir stood for a moment beside Garm's limp body.

Then he knelt down on one knee and closed his empty eyes.

"That's too bad, I didn't mean for it to turn out this way."

Vikir had only been aiming for the épaulettes, insignia, rank, and military boots pinned to Garm's clothing.

But things took a turn for the worse, and this is what he ended up with.

It wasn't of his own making, but he couldn't help but feel a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Still, she's alive because of your efforts. Rest in peace and go to a good place."

Vikir activated the power of 'Starvation Drought' on Garm's body.

The Blood Daylily's inherent power drained the blood and moisture from Garm's body.

The blood dries up and turns to dust.

The flesh, bones, and organs shriveled up and slowly collapsed.


Soon, Garm's body, crumbled to a fine powder, was blown away by the wind.

The dreams and soul of a young man from a faraway land, the earth, came to wander here in the distant deep sea.

It was the similar fate of prisoners and guards, unable to leave this prison even in death.


Badges, épaulettes, and rank insignia clattered to the floor.

One by one, Vikir gathered up the uniform, boots, and insignia that Garm had left behind.



Vikir looked up.

The sound of military footsteps was coming from beyond the steaming canyon.

Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud.

Perhaps reinforcements were on their way.

Vikir glanced up.

Garm's body warmth, which he thought had been blown away by the wind, was hovering around the fallen Kirko.

After circling for a while, the wind swept through Kirko's hair, wiping the sweat from her brow, and then disappeared beyond the flames.


Vikir made a short bow to where the wind had come from.

Then he slipped out the other side of the canyon with Garm's clothes at his side.

Now that he had the materials he needed, there was no need to delay.

Jailbreak. The hounds are out today.

It was going to be done tonight.