The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound

Chapter 139: The Power of Men (1)

“Venompion is a dangerous B+ ranked monster, but focusing on the first sting in its tail and the second sting in its belly, you can easily catch it.”

Professor Banshee frowned as if he had heard shocking news from Vikir’s announcement.

“…’Second stinger’? What’s that?”

Venompion is a large desert scorpion with a large stinger attached to its tail. Those who have traveled in the desert know that you should be especially cautious around the tail because being stung by this stinger means death in just a few steps.

…However, even Professor Banshee had never heard of a Venompion with two stingers before.

The Empire originally set Venompion’s danger level as A rather than B+.

Only adventurers who had lived through the era of destruction found this fact too obvious, but for people of this era, it was unfamiliar information.

Venompion-related strategies were also similar. There wasn’t much known about monsters at this point in time, before the Empire conducted a massive monster extermination.

Venompion research only began a few years ago, so the monster is still unknown to the people of the Empire.

A researcher by chance discovered the second stinger hidden beneath Venompion’s belly armor. The researcher accidentally spilled the solvent while dissolving the tough exoskeleton piece by piece, melting the area around Venompion’s belly armor and revealing the existence of the small stinger.

After that, Venompion’s strategy was re-established, and the mystery behind its questionable movements and unexplained attack patterns was solved, leading to a downgrade in its danger level.

But all of this was unknown information to the people of this era, so Vikir simply remained silent.

“I… I think I made a mistake.”

However, Professor Banshee didn’t let Vikir off so easily.

“You dare bring the wrong research for my class? Those who make such stupid mistakes don’t deserve to attend my lectures. I’ll deduct 10 points from the entire Cold Department’s attitude score.”

Professor Banshee scolded Vikir, or rather, the entire Cold Bottle Department.

As a result, sighs and grumbling were heard throughout the classroom. Some students were even glowering at Vikir instead of Professor Banshee.

Vikir sighed as if he had no choice.

If this continued, the scores of these students would be reduced, and they’ll create problems for Vikir.

There was no other choice. Vikir repeated the information he knew once again.

“However, before deducting points, if Professor disassembles the belly armor of the scorpion specimen you have, the situation may become clearer.”

“In other words, does that mean your research results are correct?”

“Otherwise, you can make my attitude score 0. Just please don’t deduct points from the department as a whole.”

Professor Banshee gave a smirk.

“Fine. I’ll give you a chance to examine my precious sample.”

Eventually, Professor Banshee turned over his treasured scorpion specimen.

A hard-belly armor with creepy legs sticking out was visible in the center.

Professor Banshee used a scalpel and injected mana before flipping the belly armor.

Normally, he wouldn’t touch the specimen at all, but today he somewhat felt like doing it.

Then, something surprising happened. Suddenly, the hidden stinger near the belly jumped out.

“Shit!!!”

Professor Banshee was immediately shocked to see the stinger springing up in front of him and fell backward.

Vikir looked at it and thought to himself, “When Venompion dies, flipping over like that is its last move to kill its opponent. The reason this stinger hasn’t been widely known is that most witnesses are almost always killed.”

Soon, Professor Banshee hurriedly got up from the ground, looking at Vikir as he asked, “How did you know about this?!”

“I just made a guess.”

“What kind of guess?”

“Almost no one has witnessed Venompion because the majority of the witnesses were killed.” I was curious about the location of this deadly technique on this scorpion. The obvious stinger on the tail didn’t appear to be a major threat to the adventurers. So I concentrated on the most important and complicated part, the belly armor.”

Professor Banshee shook his head in disbelief when he heard this.

All this research was done just for such a random reason. And he obtained such meaningful results?

However, when the person who made this major discovery himself said so, it was not as hard to believe.

Professor Banshee mumbled to himself, “I see. Sometimes Venompion exhibits strange attack patterns, like using its middle and hind legs while leaving its pincers idle. That’s because the stinger near the belly is disposable, so it takes a long time to regenerate, which leads it to resort to simple and brute attack patterns during that time.”

At that moment, the students in the classroom were filled with amazement and admiration, exclaiming, “Wow, this is amazing! How did he conduct such research?”

“I thought being good at practical is what that mattered… But studying at this level is impressive.”

——————

“But didn’t he do well in sports too? He competed with Tudor and Sancho in the Rugby match.”

“Well, that was a match without mana. In official competitions, we use mana.”

“What’s the use of studying? He’s just a commoner with no basic knowledge of mana. I bet he’ll fail the mid-term practical exam.”

“But still, his attitude is cool. He said not to deduct points from the Department’s score even if they deduct his individual score. That’s loyalty.”

Overall, public opinion was quite positive.

In the first place, whether it was good or bad, the formation of public opinion about oneself was not a pleasant experience for Vikir.

On the other hand, some freshman girls were whispering to each other while glancing at Vikir.

“I think I found my type~ I like a slightly nerdy guy. Maybe I have a nerd preference.”

“But that nerd should be handsome… right?”

They imagined Vikir’s face hidden behind his front bangs and glasses and burst into laughter, wondering what was so great about him.

Eventually, one of them raised her head and looked at the girl behind her.

“Hey, Bianca. What do you think? Isn’t he a fine man~?”

Bianca, the eldest daughter of the Usher House and Co-head of the Cold Department raised her head.

Bianca replied with a calm tone, “Being good-looking or smart doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter even if he’s the most handsome man to ever exist.”

“Huh? Then what matters?”

In response to her friends’ curiosity, Bianca replied succinctly with one word, “Strength.”

Bianca’s view on men was very clear and distinct.

“I have no interest in men weaker than me. Whether it’s Vikir or Tudor… I have no interest in someone who’s not even a Low-Tier Sword Expert.”

“What? But he did quite well in the last Rugby game, didn’t he?”

“That’s because they were doing it without mana. The intensity and size of the aura are the real proof of strength. That guy will probably cry during the mid-term exams. Weaklings can’t survive in the academy.”

“Oh, come on, you’re too picky. As long as a guy is handsome and smart.”

The girls turned their heads back and chatted among themselves.

But Bianca still stared at Vikir with an indifferent gaze.

“What’s so great about such a nerdy guy?”

She couldn’t understand how girls her age thought of guys.

Bianca’s gaze remained unimpressed as she observed Vikir.

“He’s probably not even a Low-Tier sword expert… It’s boring.”

Bianca closed her eyes and yawned.

She completely lost interest in Vikir.

******

A small and old orphanage in a remote corner of the outer region, far from Yellow City.

“Master! It’s a Swordmaster!”

A guy called Doxeller ran, pleading, “Please, spare me! I haven’t done anything wrong!”

It was well past midnight when everyone was asleep.

A chubby man was crawling on the ground, tears, and snot streaming from his face in fear.

And behind him, Vikir, or rather the “Night Hunter,” stood with a long sword, emitting a red aura.

Vikir furrowed his brow.

“A Swordmaster?”

Strictly speaking, Vikir was still a Peak Graduator.

However, the aura he emitted through Beelzebub was so thick and dense that it was almost in a solid state.

It seemed that the villain about to have his throat slit mistook Vikir for a master when he saw the dense aura of a Peak Graduator.

In a dry voice, Vikir said, “Doxeller, 52 years old. The Mayor of the Goo district and the director of this orphanage. He made a pact with demons and sold young children. Given the abundance of noble bastards in the Yellow City, he probably only dealt with high-quality orphans, right?”

“High-quality orphans? Wh-where did you hear such a thing!”

“High-quality orphans are those with noble bloodlines, fair and beautiful faces, literate, and have manners. Aren’t they all premium? Like yourself.”

“No, they’re not! What’s the difference between good and bad orphans? They’re all just blood bags anyway… Oh no, What…?” Doxeller unconsciously blurted out his crimes.

A broker disguised as an orphanage director.

Whether he knew or didn’t know that the trading partners were demons was not important.

Vikir raised Beelzebub.

Now, if he applied some force and lowered his arm, the man’s throat would be separated from his body and roll on the ground.

But just then…

“…!”

Vikir felt a cold breeze blowing from behind.

Whooosh-

It was too cold and heavy to be considered a naturally blowing wind.

Crash!

As Vikir leaped upward, a large, solid object flew from behind, smashing the shoulders of the intended victim, Doxeller the chubby man, and demolishing the stone pillar behind him.

“…?”

Vikir turned his head.

Behind the pillar, something eerie was visible.

A man in a neat black suit.

His face was obscured by a dirty black sack-like cloth, and he held a large hammer in his hand.

But most importantly…

“…This smell.”

The overwhelming stench emanating from the man was the kind that only demons could produce.

“Is he one of the Ten Corpses?”

Vikir flicked Beelzebub once.

Thud-thud-thud-

The blade, which had temporarily bent widely under the influence of great force, returned to its original form, and the auras that had been attached to the blade scattered like droplets.

Amidst the countless droplets of aura, the man with the black sack on his head raised his hammer.

…Crash!

The monster struck the ground with his hammer, sending dust and stone fragments flying, effectively blocking Vikir’s aura pellets.

[Grumble… Grumble…]

He made an unpleasant noise under the black sack on his face.

Vikir narrowed his eyes as he looked at the black aura attached to the man’s hammer.

“A Graduator. Probably High-Tier, but not one those ten demons.”

He was a strong one, but not quite at the Ten Supreme demon level. Probably a henchman working under them.

“Good timing. If I kill you, I might encounter one of those ten bastards quite quickly.”

The color on Vikir’s face beneath his mask began to change.

It was the first clue he had found since coming to this academy.

…However?

[Grumble… Grumble…]

As the man with the black sack raised his hammer, Vikir’s expression changed.

The posture the monster had when holding the hammer was quite familiar to Vikir.

“…That’s.”

The monster emitting a strong demon scent.

What he was about to use was undoubtedly the mace technique of the faithful Quovadis clan.

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