Revenge of the Iron-blooded Sword Hound

[Translator - Clara]

[Proofreader - Lucky ]

Chapter 480: The Naval Battle (2)

The Invincible Fleet of the Donquixote clan.

When it comes to naval warfare, they were the most formidable force in the empire.

The fleet moved forward, cutting through the blue waves of the deep sea, as darkness loomed heavily ahead of them.

At the forefront, standing at the bow of the lead ship, Vikir faced the fierce sea breeze head-on,

He was deep in thought.

‘Infinite darkness covering the world… this must be one of the abilities of the First Corpse.’

The usually clear skies of the Imperial Capital showed no signs of moonlight or starlight tonight.

But…

…BOOM! Splash—

Only massive tidal waves continued to crash relentlessly.

“If this keeps up, the ship might capsize,” Bianca said, her voice tinged with worry.

But standing beside her, Tudor merely scoffed.

“You think a wave like this can overturn the ships of Donquixote? Not a chance!”

And he was right.

The Invincible Fleet lived up to its name, pressing forward through the waves without a single ship running aground.

The massive ships were linked together by thick chains, making the entire fleet one entity—one ship was all, and all ships were one.

This was the Chain Formation, a tactic of linking ships with chains.

Thanks to Vikir’s suggestion, the fleet’s ability to break through was greatly amplified.

Seeing this, Camus nodded in admiration.

“As long as we’re cautious of fire attacks, this is a great strategy.”

“With this torrential downpour, we won’t need to worry about fire attacks,” Vikir replied.

“Exactly. Given the current situation, this is the best approach. You really are my boyfriend!” Camus grinned, giving Vikir’s arm a playful tap.

At that moment…

“...!”

Vikir’s expression changed as soon as Camus got closer.

“A smell.”

“...?”

Confused by Vikir’s sudden remark, Camus quickly sniffed herself.

“Huh? What? Do I smell? I shower every day! I even brushed my teeth just before meeting you, you know! And I was thinking of wearing perfume, but I thought it was inappropriate for the battlefield… Or maybe it’s sweat from this morning’s exercise…?”

“Not that kind of smell,” Vikir interrupted, dismissing her frantic explanation.

“The smell of a demon.”

“...!”

“The faint scent of a half-demon.”

Camus’s expression hardened.

“That’s strange. At this point, the part of my body occupied by Sere is so small that it shouldn’t even give off a noticeable scent.”

“I’m not saying it’s coming from you,” Vikir replied in a low voice.

In the past, when Camus operated as the ‘Queen of Corpses,’ she had shared half of her body with the Eighth Corpse, Sere.

Vikir had already smelled the half-demon scent on Camus back then, and it had left an imprint on his memory.

And now, that familiar scent was carried by the sea breeze.

It was coming directly from the Imperial Capital, from the very direction of the palace—the heart of the empire.

“...!”

Soon, Camus also caught the scent Vikir had noticed.

Indeed, this smell, so distinct and intense even from a distance, was unmistakable.

“A strange scent. Not a typical demon’s,” Orca, who had been on watch, leaped down and spoke.

Having spent countless battles among demonic beings, Orca had developed the ability to recognize such scents.

“Definitely… there’s something different about this one,” Dolores added, emerging from below deck with a serious expression.

“It’s similar to the scent from when Camus had her connection to Sere, but a bit different. When it was Camus, it felt like a mixture of half-human, half-demon. But this… it’s more like a demon with only half of its power left.”

Sinclaire, who had been securing the anchor, nodded in agreement with the others.

Since her time in the Abyss Tree, drenched in the blood of the demonic creatures, Sinclaire had also developed a keen sense for such things.

A low, ominous hum filled the air—

Vikir heard the cries of Beelzebub, which lay dormant inside his wrist.

At the same time, he heard the exact same cry from behind the deck.

Kirko.

From her waist, where the demonic sword Asmodeus was strapped, came the same cry as Beelzebub.

Vikir then asked Decarabia, who was hanging from his chest.

“Do you know anything about the First Corpse?”

[...Do I look like a vending machine for information? Don’t treat me like that saint over there.]

Dolores, who was standing nearby, flared up at Decarabia's remark but was quickly calmed down by Camus and Aiyen.

“Calm down. It’s not like he's wrong.”

“Haha—during Tochka Battle, you were basically a holy water vending machine.”

“You’re so mean! I was working hard, providing shields from the back! This is why being a healer is so unrewarding! When you do well, no one notices, but when you mess up, it's obvious…”

“Please calm down. If it weren’t for you, Tochka would’ve fallen long ago.”

“Exactly. The power of divinity is incredible. I had never seen anything like it before.”

Dolores, Sinclaire, and Kirko all chimed in with their comments.

But through it all, Vikir remained focused solely on Decarabia’s answer.

[Ahem! The First Corpse’s body structure is… unusual. Most living beings define themselves by their physical form, but that concept doesn’t apply to the First Corpse.]

“What do you mean by that?”

[Well, you, for example, would define yourself as a human, wouldn’t you? You are one individual, and other humans who fit similar criteria are also individuals—two, three, four, and so on. But the First Corpse is different. Two can be one, and one can be two. The boundary between self and non-self lies outside the human understanding, making it impossible to categorize him by common logic.]

“I’m not sure I follow, but I suppose you’re saying his body is as strange as yours?”

Decarabia, being a demonic entity that exists as an object, is indeed unique among demons.

If the First Corpse had a similar peculiarity, he would undoubtedly be a challenging opponent.

[In any case, I don’t know much more. The First Corpse is a being shrouded in many mysteries. However…]

Decarabia’s voice dropped as if revealing something crucial.

[I’ve heard that the roles of the ‘one who closes the door’ and the ‘one who opens the door’ are distinctly separate. That’s all I know.]

The cryptic answer made Vikir furrow his brows.

Having lived his entire life straightforwardly and honorably, he wasn’t a fan of such vague and circular discussions.

Just as Vikir was about to ask another question—

“Emergency! Tsunami ahead!”

From the crow’s nest of a nearby ship, Cindiwendy’s voice rang out.

Everyone immediately grabbed onto the railings and turned their gaze forward.

ROOOOOAAAR!

A massive wave rose with terrifying force.

It looked like a black hill swelling up, and soon it seemed to reach all the way to the sky.

It was as if the entire surface of the sea had been peeled away.

“...Hmm!”

Even Tudor, who was usually calm, looked tense.

No matter how strong their fleet was, such a monstrous tsunami posed a real threat.

However—

“Hah! What are you fools so worried about?”

At the bow of the ship, Marquis Sade, who was casually sitting with a fishing rod, remained utterly unbothered.

With his head tilted lazily, he looked at Tudor and the rest of Donquixote’s knights.

“Have you forgotten who you’re traveling with?”

...?

Everyone tilted their heads in confusion.

And at that very moment—

BOOM!

A tremendous roar erupted from the front, and in an instant, the towering tsunami before them was torn apart.

The wave, now with a gaping hole, collapsed powerlessly.

And everyone aboard the ships witnessed it.

…Splash!

Moments later, a hand gripping the line of Marquis Sade's fishing rod emerged from the water.

The one who landed on the ship's deck was a black-and-white orca with white spots.

“Sometimes, I need to stretch in this form as well.”

Orca, having transformed into his orca beastman form, took a damp cigarette and leaned it toward Bastille, who lit it for him.

Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!

The fragments of the tsunami that Orca had shattered underwater were taken care of by the heads of each clan.

Though they were mere fragments, each was still a substantial water mass, splashing in all directions.

Thunk!

With the hem of his black cloak fluttering, Osiris, perched on the front railing near Vikir.

Having just obliterated a massive tsunami, Osiris turned his gaze towards Vikir as if sensing his thoughts.

Perhaps because they were brothers, Osiris immediately read the emotions in Vikir’s eyes.

“Are you troubled by our father's actions?”

Vikir didn’t bother to respond.

And Osiris didn’t press further.

However, as Osiris turned away, he added, “I couldn’t understand Father’s actions either.”

“……”

“But I could empathize.”

“……!”

Understanding without agreement is a rare occurrence, though not impossible.

Osiris turned his gaze towards Cindiwendy, who stood on the watchtower of the nearby ship.

“One day, you might come to understand too.”

Osiris left behind a murmur, “Though understanding isn’t necessary,” and vanished as suddenly as he had appeared.

“……”

Vikir sank into deep thought.

The women following him, his father who had turned to ash, the extinguished Gate of Destruction, and the final confrontation with the last of the Ten Corpses.

The ship rocked violently, and so did his mind.

Vikir took a deep breath.

The ship may shake, but the mind must not.

Especially in critical moments like this.

Vikir shook his head, clearing away unnecessary thoughts.

There was no need to think far ahead.

Only one thing mattered.

“The demon must die.”

All that was left was to go all-in on the imminent showdown with the First Prince.

Finally, something appeared in the chaotic darkness where the sky and sea melded into one.

A sharp structure pierced the horizon, rising into view.

Kirko, standing on the railing, shouted, “Is that the central clock tower? I’ve seen it in books!”

The symbol of the imperial capital, standing tall and unchanged despite the passage of time, was in full view.

The fleet advanced into the heart of the capital, a once-prosperous and trendsetting city now submerged underwater.

It was a grand yet somehow bittersweet entry into the imperial capital.

[Translator - Clara]

[Proofreader - Lucky ]

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