The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound

Chapter 42: Morg’s United Front (3)

Vikir thought.

'?'

What kind of situation is this?

For the first time since his return, something unexpected had happened.

The three infamous young Baskervilles, who would come to be known as Hugo's Trident, had begun pretending to be friendly with Vikir.

The trio had even crossed the line of fire several times before Vikir regressed, and crucially, it was their fault that he was captured and executed at the last minute.

... But what about now?

The High, Middle, and Low Brothers stood in a circle around Vikir.

Whereas before they had surrounded him to harass him, now they were surrounding him to protect him.

"He's the poster boy for our line, you can't let him fight just anyone. He has to pull his weight."

"Protect."

"Protect."

Lowbro even turned his head and winked at Vikir.

Vikir was even more bewildered.

"I just got my finger chopped off, and this is what he's going to do?

But this wasn't the first time Vikir had encountered this behavior from the triplets.

"Certainly, they've been noticeably more civilized since the last time they hunted a troll in front of everyone.

Maybe even before that. Maybe since he'd killed a Cerberus in his first practical assessment at the age of eight?

I knew something was off when I walked up to Vikir while he was scarfing down a haggis and pretended to be friendly.

Vikir had spent his entire life avoiding the attention of his siblings.

They were too weak and young to be worthy of his attention.

But this indifference must have caused a mutation in the triplets' minds.

After all, it was in the Baskervilles' nature to follow the philosophy of the strongest.

What's more, they seemed to be under a strange illusion.

"Leave this place to us, Vikir. We'll repay you for recommending us to the Academy."

"Leave it to us, Vikir. We'll repay you."

"Leave it to us, Vikir. We'll make it up to you."

The triplets speak with determination.

Vikir suddenly remembered his conversation with Hugo not long ago.

He had mentioned the triplets without thinking when asked who he was close to, and it had apparently impressed them.

Vikir decided to keep his mouth shut.

"...."

It's always cute to see a kid who thinks he's doing something great.

(Plus, these triplets have a fucked-up personality, so that's one cute thing about them.)

Vikir thought for a moment.

"They could be useful.

These triplets will surely grow up to be very useful killing machines.

They might not have the brains to make their own decisions, but they certainly knew how to do what they were told.

They've been used for all sorts of sneaky and dirty jobs, so they've proven to be both skilled and loyal.

Hounds, literally. Fiercely obedient to their master's command.

And that was something Vikir knew all too well, having been bitten by their teeth.

Finally, Vikir gritted his teeth in defeat.

"I'll give you a chance, brothers."

The triplets' faces lit up.

They stood in front of Vikir, looking even more pleased than when they'd received Hugo's praise at the end-of-the-month review.

"Well, if they're going to go to all that trouble, why shouldn't I?

Vikir decided to stay in the background for now.

Next.

The three sisters of Morg and the three brothers of Baskerville were about to face off.

The three sisters of Morg and the three brothers of Baskerville had already met at several annual events, and they had a reputation for getting along very badly.

The three sisters struck first.

"What a bunch of idiots, all you know how to do is stick together in threes."

Lausis was the first to bring her hands to the ground.

With her powerful Water Realm magic, she formed countless water droplets and began to shoot them out.

Puff-puff-puff!

The force of the water droplets flying at high speed was powerful.

It was said that falling water could take a long time to pierce through rocks, but the mana-laden droplets she was sending out could pierce through rocks in an instant.

The ground is devastated.

The droplets of water that Lowsis unleashed pierced countless holes in the ground, drenching the earth with moisture.

Middlesea followed suit.

She specializes in powerful earth magic, and with a sweep of her hands, she gathers the loose soil together.

Crunch, crunch, crunch.

At Middlesea's command, the waterlogged and deformable soil formed an earth wall that surrounded the three sisters.

What's more, sharp rocks protruded from its surface like blades, allowing for both defense and offense.

Finally, the eldest sister, Hyssis, stepped forward.

Specializing in powerful grass magic, she flicked her hands together and pulled the grass seeds from beneath the ground.

Thick plant stalks sprouted and vines grew, feeding on the waters of Lowthis and the soil of Middlethis.

Land, water, and plant life worked in synergy to make Morg's fortifications stronger and stronger, while at the same time putting pressure on their enemies.

Indeed, these are the qualities that have earned it the name "The Three Flowers of Morg.

But Baskerville's three brothers were no slouches either.

"Heh, heh, heh, heh, what are we going to do with all that grass and no meat?"

"What are you going to do?"

"What are we going to do?"

Hive was the first to jump up.

A pale aura of gaseous form drew out a single sharp tooth and slammed it into the dirt wall in front of him.

Then.

...Pow! Pow!

The earthen wall cracked open, revealing the inside.

It was only one circle of magic, so its defense was obviously limited.

The blades of Middle Bro and Low Bro followed suit, slashing down.

The high-speed rotating auras vaporized the flying water droplets and shredded the plant stalks.

Clang! Clang! Pow!

Sword and magic clashed ferociously.

The magic was drawing in more mana, recreating the power of the elements more strongly, and the sword was exploding with firewood from the mana and life force in his body.

Which is stronger, magic or sword?

It was an ever-present debate between the neighboring realms of Morg and Baskerville.

And at the forefront of that debate today stood these three sisters and three brothers.

Each of the six was fighting to prove their family's banner.

"...."

Watching on, Vikir was bored to tears.

After all, what tension could there be in a battle between three first-class mages who could only use first-circle magic and three lowly Sword Expert juniors who had just mastered the first form of Baskerville?

What's more, Vikir is a cripple from across the river, with no real attachment or brotherhood to the Baskervilles.

"I wish they'd all just die.

It's an extremely cynical attitude.

But the other knights of Baskerville, with the exception of Vikir, had a different attitude.

They all seemed to be quite excited, even if they didn't say so.

Staffordshire turned to Vikir, who had a sullen expression on his face.

"Aren't you having fun?"

"What?"

"Isn't it a competition of talent and potential among young dreamers who will one day carry the family name in tow?"

"If you put it that way, I'm a dreamer."

"Master, you're already... and you're not fit to play in that age group."

"It's just a waste of time. I must pass quickly, I have a meeting with the head of the fort to discuss...."

But Vikir couldn't finish his sentence.

Quack, quack, quack!

A powerful explosion ripped through the area.

"Kaaaah!"

"Ugh!"

The three sisters of the Morg family and the three brothers of the Baskerville family were all stunned.

Flames roared, consuming everything around them.

Skewers of steel rose from the ground, turning the area into a field of thorns.

Puff, puff, puff!

The skewered wall of earth collapses in an instant.

The searing heat burned away the water and vegetation before Baskerville pushed back the triplets' blades and sent them flying.

A line of fire and iron, red and black, separates the Morgans from the Baskervilles in an instant.

The magic was so powerful that even the other Baskervilles, who had been watching the children's fight with amusement, half-sheathed their swords in surprise.

Crackle, crackle, crackle, crackle!

In the blink of an eye, the surrounding cotton fields turned into an inferno.

The Baskerville triplets barely made it beyond the wall of fire.

But their hair was already charred to a crisp.

"Hey, what the hell, you almost burned me!"

"What the hell!"

"What!"

The triplets jerked their heads up to protest Morg's overreach.

But Morg's three sisters on the other side of the room were treated even worse.

Not only are they scorched by the flames, but they've been skewered, scratched and torn all over.

Crawling on the floor, Highsis, Middlesis, and Lowsis had dark horror in their eyes.

"Hmph, hmph... I almost died just now...."

"If you had dodged a little later, you would have died, hmph-"

"Sisters- I'm scared-"

Seeing them stutter, the Baskerville triplets quickly shut their mouths to protest.

Morg was unrelenting, even against his own family.

All heads turned toward the direction the fire magic had come from.

Then, from beyond the barrier of fire, came a calm voice.

"... What is this?"

A cold voice, but somehow familiar.

And with it, an enforcer of iron skewers and hot flames.

The distant nickname that would later come to be known as Jian Tian Muhu.

Morg's mistress, who would come to be known as the Queen of Fire and Skewers, or the Queen of Red and Black.

'... But she is still young.

Vikir looked up.

An eight-year-old girl in a blur of memories.

And now, a fully grown fifteen-year-old girl.

Morg Camus.

She looked down at him, reunited after seven years.

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