Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound Chapter 166

Resize text-+=

Episode 166: Crime and Punishment (5)

The sack was wide open.

What came out of it was the ‘face’, the face of the person Bikir loved.

“… … !”

And the moment I saw that face.

Dolores couldn’t help but put on a blank expression.

‘Isn’t anyone here?’

Yes.

The inside of the sack was empty.

nothing. With nothing.

Then Dantalian was even more flustered.

[Nonsense! I heard that man is an animal that lives by love! No, not just humans, but all animals have the feeling of love! But what about you… … !]

However, Dantalian’s words did not carry on to the end.

… Boouk!

It was because Bikir’s sword, which appeared as he removed his black hilt, pierced his chest fiercely.

[Heuk!?]

Dantalian backed away, pouring black blood.

All 36 faces distorted after witnessing the unbelievable situation.

Could it be that the magic didn’t work?

Maybe that’s why no face came out of the sack?

Unfortunately, Dantalian’s hopes were dashed.

The magic was activated normally, and the tremendous consumption of mana and the tremendous recoil damage caused by the destruction of the magic came as a burden to Dantalian’s body.

Furthermore, Vikir, who dug into the arms of Dantalian, who had become defenseless due to the use of magic, continued to stab deadly swords with each shot.

… Whoop whoop!

An aura so thick that it felt like a solid was continuously pushed in.

It pierced the flesh like the teeth of a wild beast, breaking bones and tearing through the intestines.

Riding on those teeth, the bubbling aura rushes in and gnaws at the soul.

No matter how much the devil’s body is, there is no business.

[Grumble… … !]

Dantalian hurriedly retreated, hugging his stomach skin, which had become rags in an instant.

Blood, flesh, and fragments of internal organs dripped and covered the floor like asphalt.

[Nonsense! Does it make sense that man has never loved anyone in his entire life! That, there is no such person!]

“Yes. Here.”

Bikir answered briefly and dryly.

Bikir, who was always disciplined to kill his emotions from a young age, grew up straight and not crooked.

In a way, that straightness could have been a kind of crookedness, but I didn’t know that at the time.

A killing machine that operated only on orders, excluding all emotions. dog of death.

That was Vikir Van Baskerville in his previous life.

A time when everything was fleetingly extinct.

Could I afford to love a hound whose emotions have worn out and dried up while crossing the line 500 times, big and small? Was there anyone who could teach me love?

“… … .”

And Dolores, who was watching the back, was able to guess such circumstances of Bikir, albeit vaguely.

It was because of the resonance of the soul and the smell of life that can be felt the more Bikir opens his momentum.

A priest deeply empathizes with his soul in the process of praying, healing (healing), and praying (Buff) for others.

That’s why I’m affected by that emotion, and sometimes I’m assimilated.

Dolores remembered what the night hound had once told her.

‘Theology is the study of understanding people.’

At the time, I did not fully understand the true meaning of these words, but now I think I know why.

At this moment, Dolores, more than anyone else, was empathizing with and empathizing with the feelings and circumstances of the night hound.

‘What kind of life has he been living? How heavy a burden is he carrying alone? How long must he have continued his solitary and lonely struggle?’

Right now, she had known the night hound as a terrorist not too long ago.

Even by giving him his ‘Villain name’ from the newspaper club he is in.

… … But no.

He was a fighter who was fighting the evils of this world before anyone else.

A prophet persecuted by the world, understood by no one, and loved by no one all his life.

How far does he stand in front and how far is he looking forward?

How lonely, how hard, how painful, how hurt must it be?

suddenly. The warm water moistens the eye area.

Dolores, as a human being, wanted to stand behind him, even beside him.

Rather than walking along the path he was taking, I wanted to walk with him and be his strength.

Just like the legend of the priest who accompanied the hero on a long journey to subdue the demon king a long time ago.

I wanted to stand close to him, hug and comfort his scarred soul.

I wanted to hold my torn feet on the thorny road in my arms.

I wanted to hold the hand that had been cut by the knife.

I wanted to let you know that you are never alone.

… … but. Dolores also knew.

The hound of the night is never someone to lean on.

He will never give up on anyone.

——————

faqwiki.us

Join our Discord for new chapter updates!

https://discord.com/invite/xr7SxG5T6V

——————

I will not lean on or rely on it.

I will always stand tall and move forward.

Even if it is a thorny ascetic road, a single road dotted with blood and flesh.

Dolores, who was able to know it well due to the temporary and partial assimilation of the soul, could not help but feel even more regretful.

Deep down, I know that the person who wants me to lean on him will never, in fact.

However, is the heart of a woman who has no choice but to wait despite knowing it is so painful, sorrowful, and fading?

… … However, there was one more painful and sorrowful existence besides her.

[Quaaaaaaaagh!?]

Dantalian.

He is really sick and in pain.

This demon king, who had only known how to sit arrogantly and laugh at humans, distorted his 36 faces and let out a scream.

And Vikir grabbed Dantalian by the hair and didn’t let go, continuing to stab him here and there with a knife.

Hounds do not let go once bitten. so educated

Vikir was steadfastly attempting close combat even as her body was torn apart by the waves of mana emitted by Dantalian.

[Keep it off! You damn bastard! Where, let’s see if it will stick!]

Dantalian picked up one of the fragments in Vikir’s memory.

In Bikir’s memory, where only cold and sharp fragments are infested.

It is dangerous enough to cut off even Dantalian, the devil, if done wrong.

It was like digging through a bag full of blade fragments and shards of glass.

‘… … Shit. What kind of a human could live such a life!’

Dantalian risked his hand to become a rag and picked up one of the memory fragments that was still warm.

The face that was changed into a mindset that would stimulate Bikir’s family love in its own way.

[Look! This is the face of someone who once cared for you! Can you stab me like this!?]

… … All in all, it belonged to Set Les Baskervilles.

Set had been training for such a long time that even people in her family would forget her face, so Dolores just tilted her head when she saw it.

‘… … Who is that?’

A handsome man with fair skin, thick eyebrows, and a rather cold appearance.

It was a strikingly handsome face, but the lack of blood in the skin made it look eerie.

‘Could it be someone related to the Hound of the Night?’

But there was no time for Dolores to examine and remember Set’s face.

“Thank you. For motivating me.”

Because Bikir’s reaction was much faster.

Seeing Seth’s face, the sadness before returning rises even more.

So what could be stabbed once could be stabbed twice.

Perk! Puffer Puck! Fufufufufufufufu!

Seth’s face explodes from the frantic slashing.

At the same time, Dantalian’s entire body began to break into smaller and smaller pieces.

[Quaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah

A terrifying baptism that even the devil’s soul is shaved off.

at that time.

[…] … Aww! Don’t bully me!]

One of Dantalian’s many faces changed.

Appears to be in his early teens. beautiful blonde. white skin. A girl with slightly drooping eyes looking sad.

The words ‘Nymphet’ are visible on an old, crude gold necklace hanging around her neck.

Moment.

“… … !”

Bikir paused.

Dantalian didn’t know what had stopped Vikir, but he thought this was his chance.

[Shut up!]

Countless faces shout out purple tongues.

A Dantalian who, like a demon of conversational skills, wags his tongue like a blade.

but.

Kurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!

Dantalian’s attack failed again.

Enraged at the sight of the nymphet’s face, Dolores again intervened on the battlefield, scattering white flames.

“I thought you touched the wrong person.”

As soon as Dolores burned the tip of Dantalian’s tongue, she leaped to the side of the Night Hound.

At the moment of crisis, she became more confident and calm.

“?”

Vikir tilts her head, not knowing why Dolores has suddenly become so brave.

Soon after, Dolores turned to Vikir and said courageously, as if determined to do something.

“If it’s hard, lean on it.”

“??”

“I’ll wait anytime.”

“???”

The moment Bikir tilts his head once more as if he doesn’t know why.

… Dig!

The white light that Dolores had just radiated soon dwelt on Vikir’s entire body.

“… … !”

“… … !”

For a moment, both Vikir and Dolores felt it.

resonance of the soul.

It’s a feeling like companions walking together on the same road or communicating with each other.

It was literally the kind of relationship that could only be possible between ‘soulmates’.

and the moment it happens.

… Flash!

The light emanating from Dolores’ body exploded nearly 10 times.

Awakening Saint’s buff.

And it had the biggest impact on the saintess’s soul.

The only existence that can make a saintess awaken.

A person who possesses a soul of the same amplitude.

‘Night Hound’.

He is the one whom Saint Dolores recognized as her ‘soulmate’.

whether it is consciously or unconsciously.

“… … Aww?”

Dolores felt all the strength drain from her body.

The divine power that I squeezed with all my might to the point where I couldn’t even stand.

The tremendous power of the buff that came out like that was embedded in Vikir’s body.

It is Dolores who has tremendous divine power due to her natural talent.

It exploded ten times, so the resulting buff couldn’t be an ordinary buff.

The moment Dolores’ buff dwells in her body.

Ooooh!

Vikir felt that the wall that had been blocking his head all this time was being pierced in one blow.

The wall, which had been so high and hard that it seemed impossible to cross it for a while, was torn down, and the realm beyond it came into view.

Sword Master.

The realm of the highest.

It was the moment when he stepped up to the ranks of superhumans.

Buy Me a Coffee at ko-fi.com

share our website to support us and to keep us motivated thanks <3