The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound

Chapter 394: Dead Man Walking (1)

A week went by quickly.

...Boom!

Vikir burned all of Garm's journals.

He'd already learned all the information he needed, and he could copy the handwriting perfectly.

'The font forgery I learned from Chihuahua has come in handy again.'

Now he wouldn't hesitate to use his handwriting wherever it was needed.

It was a relief.

-I want to get out of here, with her.-

Vikir stared at the burning pages of the diary.

Garm's wish to leave this place would never be fulfilled.

It will only turn to black, white ash and sinks to the bottom of the dark deep sea

"...."

Vikir watched the dozens of notebooks turn to ash from the beginning to the end

It was a small and humble end to a young man's life's work.

'Still, I got a lot of information out of it. Thank you.'

Vikir held a moment of silence for Garm. Until the smoke from the diary cleared.

Then.

A knock.

There was a knock at the door.

He opened the door to find Kirko standing there, her face expressionless.

"There is three hours before the execution."

"...Why are you here so early?"

"I just wanted to let you know in advance."

"...I see."

Kirko stood motionless in the doorway, as if waiting for Vikir to finish getting ready and come out.

Vikir got dressed, feeling a little overwhelmed by the stare he couldn't quite figure out what was going through Kirko mind.

Then.

"Captain."

Kirko spoke.

When Vikir turned his head, she took a deep breath and spoke.

"Before you go to the execution, may I have a word with you?"

It was a rather out-of-the-blue request.

There was no reason to refuse, so Vikir nodded, indicating her intention to do so.

Then Kirko spoke in a serious tone.

"As you know, Captain, I was born in Nouvelle Vague."

"...."

"Once upon a time, there was an incident where a prisoner raped a guard, and I am the result."

Vikir stopped buttoning his collar at Kirko's blunt words.

'I warn you, this may be a summary execution. Because of an 'unsavory incident' between a guard and a prisoner 19 years ago, the actor is strictly controlled and punished.'

Vikir still remembered Colonel DOrdume's words when Vikir had refused to labor for some unknown reason.

Kirko continued in a calm tone.

"Afterwards, my biological father and mother were both referred to the disciplinary committee and disappeared. I guess he probably escaped from prison... anyway, that's why I don't know who my parents are, and of course I've never been to the surface."

"Why are you telling me that story now?

Vikir asked.

Kirko hesitated for a moment, then spoke up.

"That's because I hated you, Captain, because of my personal past, which I mentioned earlier."

Kirko did not like Garm. No, she hated him.

It had nothing to do with the fact that Garm was dull and cowardly, too good to be true, and full of mistakes at every turn.

A fellow his own age, with parents to miss and an earthly home.

But Garm had two things Kirko did not.

"You have a home on earth, and you have parents. When we first met, you said you came all the way here because you wanted to help your parents make a living. You also said you missed the mountains and fields, the streams and lakes of your homeland."

"...."

"Maybe I was envious of that, no, inferiority complex, that's right, so whenever the Captain made a mistake, I filled my lack of self-esteem by looking at it as pathetic and despising it."

Garm probably didn't realize that Kirko had such thoughts until the very end.

'No. Even if I had known, it wouldn't have changed anything.'

Vikir stared at Kirko.

It was as if he wanted to say something.

Kirko took a deep breath before speaking.

"I wanted to be honest about this and apologize, because I don't think I should have this kind of petty, old feelings toward my future superior."

"Is that why you volunteered to be my adjutant?"

"...I didn't say it myself."

"I see."

Vikir nodded.

Then.

Kirko opened her mouth, sounding even more puzzled than before.

"Captain, you have nothing to say to me?"

"...?"

Vikir looked up, and Kirko gave a rare stutter.

"You know, back when you saved me from that prisoner rampage on level eight."

"What?"

"I'm not without ears to hear!"

"...?"

Vikir frowned.

As if he didn't understand.

Then Kirko started to sweat a little.

Her earlobes were already red to the limit.

"Ah, all the seniors around me are saying something."

"Saying what."

"About that prisoner rampage on Level 8. About why the Captain was willing to take a hostage for me...!"

Vikir realized what Kirko was trying to say.

'You. Do you really like her that much?'

'A man risking his life for a bitch. Don't you know what it means to be held hostage by me?'

'Hmm. what. You're so obsessed that you don't care about any of that, you smoked a cigarette with my blood on it. You're crazy.'

'Did Garm like Kirko?'

'You didn't know? He was always staring at Kirko whenever he came to work.'

'But don't you think that's a little reckless?'

'He's a real man. Risking his life for the girl he loves.'

The sarcastic remarks flashed through his mind.

So do the gossipy comments of the other guards,

"I-I would like to make it clear that my becoming your adjutant is merely the result of a natural chain of command, nothing more. There's supposed to be a separation between public and private affairs, but if a superior and a subordinate have such a bad relationship, what can I say, there could be a setback in public affairs... also... eh?"

But Kirko couldn't finish her sentence.

Vikir, now fully dressed in uniform, had left the room.

* * *

ttog- ttog-

An underground passage that looks like the throat of a giant monster.

Salty water droplets fell from the corrugated ceiling.

jeobeog- jeobeog- jeobeog-

The sound of Vikir's military footsteps is heavy.

Dada-dada-dada.

The footsteps of Vikir's companions behind him are also loud.

"Why would you leave so quickly when your adjutant is talking to you?"

It was Kirko.

At Kirko's grumbling, Vikir raised his index finger to her lips.

"Shhh. There's a lot of people now."

"...."

Vikir and Kirko had come down to Level 5 to attend the execution.

There were a number of guards and prisoners gathered there, and in the center stood the protagonist of the day, Sakkuth, bounded and shackled.

Lt. Colonel Bastille, who was on the podium, spoke to him.

"This is not a formal execution. You will forever be recorded as alive in the books."

In a gravelly voice, he shouted at Sakkuth and many other prisoners.

But Sakkuth didn't react.

His eyes flicked from one guard to the next with a slight, uneasy tremor.

Then.

"...!"

Sakkuth's face visibly brightened as he recognized Vikir's form among the group of guards.

Then, the guards who were to conduct the execution stepped forward.

The main one was Vikir.

Vikir dragged Sakkuth to the cliff ahead.

There was a jutting rock at the edge of the cliff, and Sakkuth stood precariously on the edge.

"Stay steady."

Vikir, standing behind him, spoke in a low voice.

"The moment you fall off the cliff, a rescue operation will be launched. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

Sakkuth replied with a calm face.

Being thrown off this distant cliff is the 'unofficial execution ceremony' of the Nouvelle Vague.

hudeulhudeu...

Vikir noticed that Sakkuth's legs were trembling slightly.

"Pathetic. Are you scared?"

"Well, how could I be?"

"Don't worry. See those guards and prisoners over there? They're all included."

Vikir gestured with his chin to the left and right of the cliff.

Sakkuth looked in the direction he pointed.

Sure enough, there are guards and prisoners whose postures are subtly stiffened or loosened.

They looked suspicious.

"Those are the insiders who will help you. They'll come running as soon as I give the word."

"Well, well. You're amazing. When did you get so many people on your side?"

"...."

Vikir didn't bother to answer.

In truth, the guards he was referring to were just ordinary guards and prisoners.

They were merely taking advantage of the psychology that a cornered man sees what he wants to see.

Sakkuth stood at the edge of the Hundred Foot Cliffs with unfounded hopes.

"Kurururu, I'm done with life. Do as you please, bastards!"

Sakkuth bellowed at the guards around him, then turned his head and glared at Vikir.

And with that, he leaped off the cliff.

Whirring.

A prisoner falling into a deep, deep abyss, into a pitch black space.

But.

The expression on the guards' faces hadn't yet resolved.

The execution was not over when he jumped off the cliff.

...And now.

Purrrrrrr.

The 'real' execution had begun.

"Huh?"

He didn't even realize he was being executed.

And for Vikir, it was the first time he'd actually seen it.

Purrrrrrrr!

A long line was being drawn in the darkness.

It opened its huge, vast gaping mouth as if it were alive, revealing a wealth of unpleasant-looking, misshapen teeth protruding from within.

Its mouth gaped open in a long line, seemingly endlessly.

A huge face was looking up, smiling widely with its teeth bared.

"Uh, what the hell! What the hell!"

Sakkuth's face turned pale.

At the same time, Vikir swallowed hard.

Of the five wardens representing Nouvelle Vague, he is the one whose identity is the most shrouded in mystery.

'...I heard he wasn't human, but I never thought he'd look like that.'

It was the appearance of Brigadier General Flubber.

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