Revenge of the Iron-blooded Sword Hound

Revenge of the Iron-Blooded Sword Hound Chapter 375

[Translator – Clara]

[Proofreader – Lucky]

Chapter 375 Poseidon (1)

Boo-wook-

A loud tearing sound was heard across the entire planet.

The sky suddenly ripped apart.

Around the torn fissure, the edges of blazing flames crackled, and giant serpents of fire thrust their heads towards the earth.

Thud-thud-thud-

Fiery raindrops fell on every corner of the world.

There was no escaping the downpour of fire.

The grass and trees on the mountains burned, and the forest turned into a heap of ashes.

The seas and lakes boiled and turned into deserts, and all living things either burned or shriveled up.

Even the skeletons screamed in death, and those not yet dead found even breathing burdensome.

An era dawned where nothing could be promised or assured.

The notion of guarding and preserving had degraded into crude jest, and the concept of yesterday and tomorrow vanished.

The fiery rain became a flood of flames, flooding the continents for 150 days.

For five months, relentless rain of fire poured without respite, locking the world in flames.

Charred and dried corpses formed mountains, and fiery flames soared on the entire horizon, licking the sky like tongues of fire.

“‘The Storm of Dreadful Calamity”

The endless rain of fire, the firestorm, the fire bolts, the flood of fire.

The prolonged storm of fire heralded the extinction of humanity.

It was the ultimate weapon of the demons that devastated the human allied forces by annihilating 98% of present-day humanity.

* * *

3:30 in the morning.

“Aaaah!”

“It’s hot! It’s hot! It’s hot!”

“Save meeeee!”

Unexpected screams echoed in the silent chamber.

People trapped in burning buildings cried out in despair.

“…! …! …!”

Vikir woke up with cold sweat.

It was a nightmare. A dream about ‘that time’ after a long while.

‘…The fiery rain. A nightmare I haven’t had in a while.’

Someone once said that trauma from fire doesn’t wash away even after a lifetime.

The traces of burn on the retina of an old hunting dog still remained vivid.

Though only minutes had passed since waking from the dream, his tense hair still stood on end.

The goosebumps on his arms had yet to subside.

Tock-tock-plash!

Vikir washed his face in the brackish water dripping from the ceiling.

As the ice-cold water seeped through his hair, reality finally separated from the dream.

The Storm of Dreadful Calamity. The horrific season that inflicted the greatest damage on humanity even amidst the era of destruction, resurrected like a nightmare.

The time when countless fire droplets fell from the sky, burning the entire world.

The turning point of that day when most of the faces Vikir had known, recognized, and remembered burned to ashes.

“…I wonder if Cindiwendy has successfully completed the task I assigned her.”

Vikir murmured as he sank to the ground.

Knowing the dreadful weapon in advance, Vikir had warned Cindiwendy beforehand.

‘Prepare the ‘ark’ as soon as possible, for a great flood is imminent.’

Crouched in a corner of the chamber, Vikir pondered the tasks ahead.

It’s been about two years since Vikir got trapped here in Nouvellebag.

“…Feels like I was locked in solitary for a hundred days just yesterday. Time sure flies.”

A lot has happened within Nouvellebag during this time.

Firstly, the construction work in Level 10 has progressed significantly. The already deep magma pits have become even deeper, now referred to as the Grand Magma Pit.

Existing prisoners have died off, and new ones have come in. Two years ago, the prisoners who were in control were gradually weakened by intense labor and poor meals, either dying or stepping back from power, replaced by relatively younger inmates with less prison experience.

A small number of new guards have also been appointed. However, most of them couldn’t endure the harsh working conditions, the influence of powerful prisoners, or the mysterious prison illness and ended up resigning or being discharged.

Throughout this time, Vikir has generally been able to obtain most of what he desired. He gained the trust of other prisoners and guards by diligently working without causing trouble and contributing to the progress of construction in the Level 10 area.

…But there’s one thing even Vikir couldn’t get, and that’s ‘news.’

More precisely, news from the surface.

While spending close to two years inside Nouvellebag, what events might have unfolded on the surface?

Vikir made countless efforts to find out, but ultimately, he gained nothing. Other prisoners and guards were also unaware of external news, as such information was known only to a very small number of high-ranking guards.

However, there was one instance where Vikir managed to get a clue about the news from the surface, although it wasn’t very reliable.

“…For goodness’ sake. Why was this magazine shut down? It was good.”

A third-rate sUssY magazine left behind by Lieutenant Bastille.

Due to its extreme explicitness, this magazine, which was popular among the guards, suddenly stopped coming in.

Could it be that the magazine supply had issues? Did the trees used to make paper disappear? Or did the magazine building collapse? Or maybe there simply weren’t enough people on the surface anymore who could afford to subscribe to magazines?

Vikir pondered, stroking his chin.

Speculating excessively over the discontinuation of a mere third-rate pornographic magazine might seem unreasonable. But in every matter, it’s always good to be prepared.

Vikir thought.

Without any means to hear news from the surface, he wasn’t sure, but it’s highly likely that even demons were preparing for the final war by now.

No, they would have started the execution right from the day Vikir got incarcerated in Nouvellebag.

‘…It’s about time I start showing some tangible results.’

Rarely, Vikir felt a sense of urgency.

Thunk-

As the clock struck 4 in the morning, the blaring sound of the wakeup horn echoed like a sharp blade cutting through the air.

Vikir was once again the first to approach the window bars.

The material of these bars was a truly mysterious substance.

“It’s time for labor, you scums!”

Under the uproar of Lieutenant Bastille, who managed the labor yard, the prisoners crawled out to the yard once again today. With miserable meals and inadequate rest, the prisoners grew increasingly frail.

During the two years Vikir spent here, countless faces had disappeared and reappeared. Almost all prisoners gathered in the yard, ready to collapse to the ground in exhaustion as if they were already dead.

Every day was the same as yesterday, and tomorrow would be the same as today.

The hot air, rising steam, pungent sulfur gas, flickering flames, burning ground, heavy loads, inadequate sleep, flowing sweat, and hungry bodies—all contributed to a race towards death, where prisoners lived lives similar to the dead, devoid of past, present, or future.

But not Vikir.

‘Today, for sure!’

Every day was a new challenge for Vikir, every moment a first exploration, and every race had a clear destination.

Unlike other prisoners, Vikir had come here voluntarily and knew exactly what he wanted. So, for the past two years, he had tirelessly chipped away at rocks, dug into the earth, and delved deeper into the magma pit.

And today, right now!

Vikir faced a day entirely different from the 700-odd days he had spent in Nouvellebag.

Ka-boom!

A mysterious explosion resonated from the center of Level 9’s labor yard. While explosions were as common as death and starvation in Nouvellebag, this one felt different.

The unusually loud and sustained explosion, followed by a prolonged earthquake, indicated that something was amiss.

“Aah, run! The lava tsunami is coming!”

“Huh!? This explosion seems unusual!”

“Everyone, get out of the zone!”

Both guards and prisoners scrambled backward in panic. Falling rocks and surging lava waves hinted at imminent danger.

Yet, amidst the chaos, there was someone moving forward instead of retreating.

Vikir.

While everyone else panicked and scrambled, Vikir gazed at the shining blue light between the waves of lava and collapsing rock layers. The blue light emanated from extremely hot lava, forming a spherical shape.

Amidst the deafening roar, Vikir muttered in a subdued voice.

“…I found it. Here you are, ‘Poseidon’.”

The hope of humanity, the counterattack of the allied forces.

It was a triumph discovered after nearly two years trapped in Nouvellebag.

[Translator – Clara]

[Proofreader – Lucky]