The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound

Episode 216: My Neck Will Be Your Sheath (1)

The Corpse Queen’s face was slowly revealed as the skull mask covering her face slowly broke apart.

Beneath it was a strikingly familiar face, largely unchanged since the age of eight.

Her eyes, reminiscent of deer’s, remained consistently moist when directed his way. Dark eyebrows, a sharp nose, and plump lips defined her features.

The only discernible alterations were the slight loss of cheek fat, the disappearance of freckles, and a shift in the color coordination of her pupils.

It was Camus Morg.

She gazed at him with an expression mirroring the last time he had encountered her.

The tear-streaked face, the now-silent expression, and the hoarse throat—all seemed frozen in time.

Time appeared to flow back, to the time when Vikir fought against Madam Eight-Legs so valiantly.

“…….”

Vikir lapsed into a momentary silence.

Why hadn’t he known earlier?

The true perpetrator, His ultimate enemy- The Ten Corpses,

He had relentlessly pursued the belief that slaying the demons would halt the impending era of destruction.

All other emotions went mute, he just wanted to kill the demon.

Was that the reason?

Vikir now contemplated all the things he had overlooked…

Camus’ abrupt change of heart after searching for Vikir every day for years after his disappearance.

She joined the Dark Faction of her maternal uncle ‘Snake Morg’ after leaving the Light Faction of her other uncle ‘Adolf Morg’.

She then declared herself in a closed training and severed all ties with the outside world.

At this precise moment, an event occurred by chance.

Snake Morg, who was supposed to be the Corpse King, was replaced by a ghostly woman. The Corpse Queen, whose true identity was unknown in life.

She revived Rosie Morg, who died in a war between Morg and the natives of the Black Mountains.

She also had the remains of Aheuman, who was meant to be left in the depths of the Red and Black Mountains.

Looking back, there were many odd things about her, even from the first encounter.

The Corpse Queen got strangely upset by Ballak’s archery skills, maybe because of the memory of losing Vikir and Rosie.

Her reaction to the Baskerville’s sword techniques and the way she held back Rosie (Gerento) when she fainted last time.

Vikir asked, trying to stay calm, “W-Why did you become the Eighth Corpse, and why does your voice sound like that?”

[… Either because I’ve been crying for years since you disappeared, or it’s entirely locked up], The Corpse Queen’s voice huskier than before.

How many times had she cried, screamed, struggled, collapsed, passed out, woken up, and cried again?

Camus, tears falling from her black-and-white eyes, said,

[Fool… I thought you were… dead… and I was trying to find your body or something…]

So, you’re saying she’s been searching the depths of the Red and Black Mountains every day without a break?

…That makes sense to a certain extent.contemporary romance

But then Camus said something that made Vikir press his hand to his forehead.

[So… I tried to bring you back to life].

Black magic. The skill of reviving the dead, bringing them back to life.

Did that explain why she left the Light Faction and joined the Dark Faction?

Certainly, Snake Morg, the leader of the Dark Faction, was a black magic master.

Before his fall, he, too, made a deal with the [Eighth Corpse Sere] to master black magic.

Then Vikir remembered what he had heard from Highsis, Middlesis, and Lowsis.

‘Camus is in closed-door training right now.’

‘…Closed?’

‘She broke ties with Uncle Adolf.’

I was told that Camus had changed a bit since the search was stopped.

She lost much of her cheerful personality and spoke less.

Suddenly, She announced her departure from the Light Faction, shocking everyone internally.

Adolf didn’t officially express any opinion on it.

He silently observed as Camus left and joined the dark faction, opposing the light faction.

Since Camus always followed Adolf, her uncle, and the light faction leader, like a parent.

Adolf Morg was internally shocked. However, he knew how sad Camus had been since “that night” in the black and red mountains and how much she blamed herself for it. He didn’t dare dissuade her.

“…”

Vikir frowned.

Camus, giving up everything and choosing the path of the Black Mage to bring him back from the dead and make him an undead.

What happened to the woman who, if destiny flew it’s way, would one day become the Ironblood Empress, the Invincible, and rule the world beyond Morg?

Vikir spoke in a hushed tone.

“So, you’re telling me you made a deal with a demon lord because of me? Why?”

[Are you asking because you’re unaware?]

“I’m asking because I don’t know. Why would you turn into the Eighth Corpse, What use would I be as an undead??”

[…It does sound weird when you put it that way].

Camus pondered for a moment, then nodded in agreement. She then stated her stance plainly.

[If death dared to separate us, I wanted to be there and steal you back from it’s embrace.]

A brief silence hung between them.

“…”

[…]

Night Hound and the Corpse Queen took off their masks, revealing each other’s faces.

Breaking the uneasy silence, Vikir spoke.

“… But in the end, demons must die.”

A person is a person. Life is life.

No matter how strong personal emotions are, they can’t outweigh the fate of all humanity.

Gradually, the situation became clear.

A man who must kill her woman to prevent the world’s destruction.

A woman who doesn’t care if the world ends as long as she can be with her man.

[…].

Camus had no answer.

Then, her lips parted.

[Okay.]

Vikir’s eyes widened a bit. It was an entirely unexpected response.

Surprisingly, Camus seemed unfazed.

[Ever since I joined forces with the demon, I knew my life wasn’t going to end well.]

Camus and Vikir locked eyes.

Camus stepped in front of Vikir.

Her posture straightened.

[Now, kill me].

“…”

Vikir hesitated for a moment.

One of the Ten Corpses says she’ll offer her head, so why is he hesitating?

Many faces of comrades-in-arms flashed through his mind. Despite guilt and a sense of debt, Beelzebub, the magic sword at his wrist, stayed still.

Finally, Camus speaks again.

[What are you doing, kill me?]

“…”

[Kill me! Kill me!]

Suddenly, her voice rised.

kwakwang! hududug- hududug- hududug-

Emotions and mana surge, and showers of fire and iron skewers rain down around them.

Tears well up in Camus’s eyes, trickling down her cheeks.

[Yeah! Now, you obviously don’t like weird witches like me, so kill me now and move on! Your meddlesome ex-girlfriend dies here, and you can happily be with your innocent current girlfriend, the pure Saintess!]

“????”

Vikir’s reaction was incomprehensible.

What’s an ex-girlfriend and a current girlfriend? And why mention Dolores?

Vikir knows there’s a fatal misunderstanding, but it’s hard to explain.

To make things worse, the demonic energy from Camus grew stronger as midnight approached.

Camus unleashed a barrage of magic, using up every ounce of her mana, then slumped back and started sobbing.

[You bastard! It’s been a while since we met, so wdym by “the demon must die”? You baskerville puppy! You bastard!]

“…”

Vikir stood still, unable to speak.

This was the third time he’s seen tears in Camus’s eyes.

The first time was when they met at eight, then when they reunited at Red Castle, and now.

All three times, Vikir couldn’t offer comfort to Camus’ tears.

As if used to it, Camus stopped crying on her own.

[…I know, you’re not good at comforting people].

Rosie, beside a teary-eyed Camus, hugged and consoled her.

Then.

…with a pop!

Camus pulled a worn-out booklet from her arms and tossed it towards Vikir.

[It’s my diary].

“…”

[Even if I vanish, read it once; there’s a lot I can’t say to your face].

Vikir wanted to say something but stopped himself.

“…”

Vikir picked up the diary from the floor.

Surprisingly heavy for a paper-made book.

It carried the weight of all the times a woman wrote to a man, etching feelings that would forever be unanswered, remaining as lingering questions.

With that, Camus loosened her front cloth.

The bony armor split, revealing a white neck in the middle.

[Now do it].

“…”

[You’re mine. No, you’re the only one who deserves to do it.].

“…”

[I gave up on my life when I made my contract with the demon anyway; might as well die from the hands of my love.].

Camus stepped in front of Vikir and knelt silently.

She took Vikir’s right hand and guided the sword to her throat.

[My neck will be your sheath].

Camus’ lips touched Vikir’s right arm. Vikir felt a small trembling breath.

“…”

Vikir still couldn’t move.

Ten supreme demon lords crossed from the demon realm to the human world.

The impending giant gates they’d open soon.

The era of destruction they’d usher in.

Before those gates opened, Vikir had to kill all ten demons.

…Boom!

Vikir clenched his hands together.

Camus looked up at Vikir, determined.

But…

Vikir’s hand still remained still.

An unknown emotion lurked in Vikir’s heart.

Suddenly, details of Baskerville’s seventh form overwhelmed Vikir’s mind.

-To master the sixth level, let go of emotions.

-But to open the door to the seventh, embrace them.

To attain the level of Peak Graduatorl, become emotionless steel.

But to reach Swordmaster, the next level, bring emotions back to life.

Vikir lived a life of hardened steel.

A emotionless killing machine, a death hound, devoid of love.

In the fight against Dantalian, Vikir had no bond except comradeship.

But now, Vikir was unsettled.

A girl knelt, arms open to his sword.

Looking at the her face, a faint emotion stirred in Vikir.

No matter how heavy feelings are, they can’t outweigh the fate of humanity.

…But facing such a heavy-duty, an iron heart becomes superhuman.

The wall of Swordmaster appeared in Vikir’s vision – the ability to cut through anything.

And then.

…Pow!

A sudden pain shot through his lower abdomen.

A hot, piercing sensation.

[…What?]

Camus looked dazed.

A metal skewer extended from her hand, piercing Vikir’s stomach.

At the same time.

Tsutsutsutsutsuts…

A black mist rose from Camus’s back, forcibly controlling her.

[It’s midnight, my little lady~]

An eerie voice flowed from a crack in the fog.

[Eighth Corpse Sere, One of the ten supreme demons].

Danger Rating: S+

Size: ?

Found in: ?

-Nicknamed ‘Eighth Corpse’.

One of the Ten Plagues, natural enemies of mankind, incomprehensible and unkillable.

“Herds of cattle and animals shall perish.”

– The Ten Commandments 10: Top.

It was a demonic voice, tangled up in half of Camus’s consciousness.

done.co