Iron Blooded Hound-Chapter 48 - : Undercover Heroes

Vikir thought.

"She looks recognizable."

The lady before him had probably seen him previously.

... Yet, she didn't have long to consider it.

Pfft.

The following second, the fighter's long legs flew out and kicked Vikir in the stomach.

A shivering sensation ran down his spine, an unfathomable weight.

It was basically impossible that she might have pulled off such a move without utilizing her air.

Vikir somersaulted multiple times in the air before landing on his feet.

"Mastery."

The brute fighter before him was no conventional adversary.

With charcoal dark paint all over, it was difficult to make out her features, but she appeared to be in her late teens, mid-twenties at least.

Fighting her while concealing her skills would be difficult.

Vikir lowered his position and was preparing to fight.

The female hero's mouth opened.

"You said we'd see each other again, didn't you?"

She spoke in broken Magnificent.

Vikir suddenly recalled where he had seen this brute fighter before.

The young girl who had once been kept in a cage like a beast during a raid on an illegal slave auction in Longshot City.

She was destined to be turned into flesh by corrupt aristocrats.

Vikir had helped her escape by flipping over the auction house and opening the cage door.

He even gave her an elixir.

"You give back in kind."

The brute girl shook her head at Vikir's glare.

"Me. A slave, avenging my capture. Morg. Nothing to do with you."

Clearly, House Morg had something to do with this savage girl's bondage by the slave masters.

To be expected, since the Morg have been in conflict with the savages over the development of their ruby mines.

Maybe this latest raid was in retaliation for the savage girl's capture by the slave masters and her subsequent treatment.

Vikir squinted his eyes.

"Well, she's a high-ranking girl."

And then, the savage girl snapped her jaw at the wolf in the distance.

The wolf had a roped camel tied around its waist.

"For what you've done. We take care of him. We. The lady. The next leader. We take them."

Balak and Morg faced off. The girl swung her bow, knocking the wolves around her back.

The signal to retreat.

All of Balak's fighters began to fall back as one, as if their purpose was fulfilled with the capture.

The brute girl looked slightly perturbed, then turned to Vikir.

"If you want your girl back, follow me."

"... Do you speak Magnificent?"

Vikir continued to question her, hoping to gather some additional clues, to buy a little time.

But that was it.

Once the words were out of her mouth, the brute girl turned and vanished into the jungle.

Vikir was about to give chase.

Blare, signal, signal.

It was impossible due to the endless showers of arrows raining down.

'Should I reveal my... power?

If he unleashed his secret power, he might be able to break through that rain of arrows.

But.

"Camo!"

That was impossible, as Adolf, leading his troops, dashed into the battlefield.

Vikir retreated a few steps to avoid the arrows.

With so many eyes on him, he couldn't afford to reveal his strength.

"Give me my nephew!"

Infuriated, Adolf cast a powerful spell, flipping the earth upside down.

However, Balak's fighters were swift and skilled.

The vanguard easily evaded Adolf's magic and disappeared over the water, while the stragglers scattered in countless directions to confuse the pursuit.

In the end, Balak's raiders escaped into the jungle, most of them, leaving behind a few casualties.

"This, this nonsense...!"

Adolf stood stunned.

So did the mages who had brought reinforcements.

It took less than three minutes for the Morgans to respond to the emergency signal reporting the attack, but the Balak raid was so well-planned and swift that it would have been over in that time.

The raiders were organized and caught the inexperienced camo off guard.

Slaves and crops would have been one thing, but the kidnapping of the next head of the family was no laughing matter.

"How can this be good!"

Adolf stamped his foot as he watched the sun set over the water.

The waters of the Red and Dark Mountains were treacherous, but they became even more dangerous into the night.

Entering the waters at night was suicide, and even the wizards of Morgoth were not easily pursued.

One wrong move could mean destruction.

... Suddenly.

"We can still catch up."

Vikir stepped forward.

He looked into the depths of the water.

"I've been in there when I was a child."

A lie, of course. He had only been in there once, briefly, when he was eight years old.

But Vikir had explored, navigated, and fought countless times before his return, and he knew most of the geography underwater.

Meanwhile, the wizards of Morg were puzzled by Vikir's words.

One wizard made a noise and opened his mouth.

"Entering the Dark Mountains with a dark enemy is suicide...."

But he didn't finish his sentence.

"Those who will not go, go. I won't trouble you later."

Morg Adolf, his eyes weary, stood before Vikir.

He had recognized Vikir's extraordinary abilities.

With that, Adolf bowed at the waist to be eye level with Vikir.

...Boom!

Adolf clasped Vikir's hand with both of his hands, and he spoke desperately.

"Please, I implore you. Help me save my niece."

Vikir nodded.

The raiders from earlier had obviously thrown their nooses at him, and it was the camel who had reciprocated.

An obligation needed to be repaid, and without another word, Vikir turned and walked into the tangled jungle of roots.

"Perhaps this is my chance to break free from Hugo's control.

They say an crisis is an opportunity, and Vikir thought he might be able to use this to his advantage.

Night fell.

The earth bug was waning.

* * *

The watery terrain between the enemy and the Dark Mountains is filled with every conceivable type of devil, poisonous plants, and traps.

Bone-sucking mosquitoes, venomous thorns, insects that walk without making a sound, narrow, deep chasms between rocks hidden by fallen leaves.

A normal person wouldn't be able to survive even a few hours in these waters, and the situation is no different for creatures who have reached the pinnacle of nothingness.

Furthermore, the nights are so deep and dark that even savages are reluctant to pass through them.

All kinds of dangerous things are stirred from their daytime slumber.

So it's no wonder even the bravest of Morg's fighters wouldn't think for a moment to venture into the murky waters.

... But.

In the jungle, among all these potential killers, a being was moving who seemed to be zigzagging all around them with staggering speed.

Vikir. Vikir van Baskerville.

He burned pieces of grass to drive off poisonous insects, crossed chasms hidden beneath soil and fallen leaves, and rubbed animal dung on his clothes to mask his scent and crawl.

All in a series of highly skilled movements.

The Morg and Baskervilles who followed could only hold their tongues.

"Are

all ... Baskerville boys like that?"

"Of course not, you're a special case."

Staffordshire shrugged at Adolph's curious look.

However, Vikir, who was actually leading the way, was relaxed.

"It was a standard tracking technique in the Era of Obliteration.

Fighters of that time weren't just skilled at swordfighting.

They could do everything: scavenging, navigating, tracking, hiding, ambushing, killing, medicine, healing, and cooking.

It was a time of survival.

SPOT!

Vikir split a decaying sign in his path and stepped through it.

The aura of the Slope, vibrating and spinning at lightning speed at the tip of his blade, cut through everything in an instant.

Everyone was truly in awe of Vikir's ability to locate and remove obstacles, both large and small, single-handedly.

Especially the Baskervilles' trios, who followed closely behind him.

"Cool."

"Cool."

"Delicious."

The third one stuttered a bit after his finger was cut off and reattached, but they were all in agreement.

Then.

... Stop!

Vikir, who had been walking ahead, stopped.

Looking at the bare footprints in the damp mud, Vikir assessed the direction of the wind, then ducked low and framed behind a bush.

To mask his scent.

The fighters of Morg and Baskerville followed Vikir back behind the bushes.

Then, they saw a faint glow of light.

Balak's trackers were gathered around a small campfire.

Stir - ding - ding - ding

In the forest at night, even the smallest traces of human activity can be as loud as thunder.

Moreover, the Balak trackers had spread dry leaves and twigs around their makeshift camp.

They had scattered them around their makeshift camp so they would be heard.

Vikir pondered for a moment how to muffle the sound as they approached.

Then.

"... Silence."

Adolph recited the words with a short syllable.

Instantly, a clear aura surrounded everyone's feet.

Then, remarkably, there was no sound as they walked.

This is magic, and Adolf's magic specializes in stealth.

Vikir had once been an assassin himself, and he knew what a strangely advantageous asset it was to be silent while approaching a target.

Soon, the followers were close to their target.

"?? ?????? ?? ????"

"????? ?? ???? ?????? ???? ??? ??."

"??? ???? ???? ????? ???? ???"

The trackers refreshed, unaware that they had become the hunted.

Vikir selected his targets by the faint light of the remaining fire.

Up ahead, he saw the savage girl who had parried his blade and kicked him earlier.

She was barking out orders as if she were the leader of the group.

The brute man who had shot the tranquilizer needle and thrown the noose earlier obeys her commands.

And so on, until, in the center of the gathering of Balak's savage champions, the final target was found.

Morg Camu.

She knelt there, naked.

Her hands and feet were bound to stakes driven into the ground behind her, and a collar was around her neck.

Fortunately, there were no signs of beatings or other abuse.

The camel was muttering something to the brutes and didn't seem particularly distressed.

Vikir let out a small sigh.

"No wonder he's naked every time I see him."

All of a sudden.

... Jaw!

Someone touched Vikir's shoulder.

He turned to see Morg Adolf standing there.

Instantly, he spoke, his expression and voice hardened.

"I will never forget this favor, nephew."

The title ... seemed a bit odd, but this was not the time to point it out.

No 2 of the Mado Order.

It appears as though Mado Star Adolph is about to reveal his true power.

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