Revenge of the Iron-Blooded Sword Hound (Novel) Chapter 23

C23: Morgue Camille (4)

What a shocking sight this is.


Even the head of the Blood Sword Family, Hugo Le Baskerville, was taken aback.

Vikir's actions were that sudden.


Camus closed her eyes and screamed in agony. It was only natural, considering that she was in danger of losing her arm.

Little Youngae, who was experiencing a crisis for the first time since birth, cried and screamed.

Even Adolf, who had never been afraid within the family, witnessed Camus crying like this for the first time.

"Stop, stop!"

Unbeknownst to himself, Adolf summoned mana.

The mana of a Circle 6 Master surged out, pressuring Vikir.



As if he had already anticipated it, Vikir immediately released Camus' arm and stepped back.

"Aaah! Father! He... he... my arm...!"

Camus ran towards Adolf, burying her face in the folds of his cloak, crying.

Adolf, with a bewildered expression and eyes that showed no signs of anger, looked at Vikir and then turned his gaze to Hugo.

"Family boss! What are you doing?"

Hugo ignored Adolf's protest. He simply tilted his head and looked down at Vikir.

"My son."

At the mention of "son," Vikir politely replied, "Yes, Father."

"Wasn't the prank just now a bit excessive?"

"I apologize. Among the brothers in the family, it's a common prank."

After finishing his words, Vikir grasped the end of the dagger in his hand and bent it.


The blade bent too easily. It was a fake knife made of rubber.

Adolf exclaimed in disbelief, "No, what kind of toy is this!?"

"Have you never seen the boys playing with toy knives? And our Baskerville children have been playing with these toys since they were one year old."

As if asking when he was surprised, Hugo's words became nonchalant, and Adolf finally opened his eyes and saw what was in Vikir's hand.

It was a shoddy rubber knife that anyone could tell was fake. At that level, even ordinary children in the world would commonly play with it.

Adolf's failure was not being able to properly assess the quality of the knife due to Vikir's momentary burst of energy.

Adolf, known for being meticulous and composed in all matters, was taken aback by this surprising and fumbling sight. Seeing this, Hugo felt somewhat satisfied.

So he quickly forgot about being surprised earlier.

"Well, I've considered the Ruby Mine story from my perspective. Morg will probably like it too."


"So let's finish this friendly match quickly."

Hugo's blatant attitude of wanting to wrap things up.

Adolf, with an expression that seemed to convey his astonishment, was about to voice his objection, but...

"...Ugh, sniff, sob, sniffle. That brat! I won't let it slide! Just you wait!"

Unfortunately, he didn't have the luxury to deal with Camus, who was whining while pulling on his cape.

Thus, due to the quarrel between the 8-year-old children, this important bilateral conference ended abruptly and absurdly.

"Magic and swords may antagonize each other in peacetime, but they become each other's valuable complements in times of crisis, saving the country."

Following the belief of the former emperor, the prestigious magical family Morg and the staunch swordsmanship family Baskerville hold an annual friendly match.

It is a gathering of children aged 8 to 15, competing with each other in their respective fields.

Normally, the battles between the 15-year-old class, which engage in practical combat with swords and magic, are the most intense and attract the most attention compared to the 8-year-old class, where they compete in theory and mana sensitivity.


This year's friendly match drew everyone's attention elsewhere.

The training ground of the 8-year-old class, which usually received little attention.

Standing tall there were two young children who were the main protagonists of the day.

Vikir von Baskerville, from the staunch swordsmanship family Baskerville.

Camus Morg, from the prestigious magical family Morg.

According to Morg's proposal, these eight-year-old children moved to the training ground of the 15-year-old class where actual combat took place.

They would engage in real battles just like the fifteen-year-olds.

Vikir maintained an indifferent expression, while Camus exuded a strong hostility, creating a quite contrasting demeanor.

"Be prepared."


"I won't go easy on you just because you're a girl."


"What did you say?"



Vikir just yawns.

Meanwhile, Camus rolls her eyes even more, as if the medicine is taking effect.


The bell rings, announcing the start of a real sparring match.

And as the fight begins.


A loud battle cry echoes through the air.

Camus charges forward, drawing mana and attacking Vikir.

From the beginning, she displays a performance of unleashing all her power.

It's impressive in terms of initial suppression, but it's not a great long-term strategy since it exhausts all her resources.

However, Camus' talent is truly remarkable.

Quadra casting!

While others struggle to cast two spells in succession, she effortlessly casts four spells at once.

Although they were low-level spells like Fireball, Ice Sphere, Thunder Ring, and Mud Wall, they are still challenging for 15-year-old students at the Morg Academy.

Performing four simultaneous calculations and substitutions with those spells is a talent that surpasses imagination!

Indeed, it was a genius that might appear only once in a hundred years in the prestigious magical lineage of Morg.


A small fireball, an iceball, and a lightning bolt strike the ground.

In fact, even if they hit, they would only cause mild pain, so Vikir simply leans his body to avoid them.

"Vikir, wouldn't it be better for you to focus on just one magic instead of being all flashy?"

"I don't care! You're not even knowledgeable about magic, you ignorant fool!"

Camus diligently controlled three offensive spells as he chased after Vikir.

His determination to land a single blow was evident.



Vikir skillfully evaded the pouring (or rather, it was more like three punches from a kid) spells and instead closed in on Camus.

And then...


Vikir kicked down the mud wall that was protecting Camus, shattering it into pieces.


Camus swallowed his disappointment.

He couldn't cast any offensive spells because Vikir was too close.

As the foundation of the mud wall crumbled, Vikir's face drew near.

Camus felt his heart pounding heavily.

"I'm done for!"

With his vision obscured, Camus closed his eyes tightly when Vikir's palm flew towards him.

Soon after, a sharp pain throbbed in his forehead.


Camus shed a few tears as he staggered back and raised his head.


Although his forehead stung, it was just that.

Vikir didn't make any further moves. He simply flicked his finger and created a small bump on Camus' forehead.

"T-This bastard!? Did he go easy on me!?"


"Don't, don't just stand there!"

Camus canceled one of the three offensive spells he had previously cast.


A mud wall, made of mud, formed two layers and covered Camus.

"Haha! Now there are two layers of walls! You can't break through this!"

The problem was that due to building two layers of walls, Camus couldn't see outside the wall himself.



The two overlapping mud walls were easily pierced like a piece of paper.

Breaking through the wall, Vikir's hand extended towards Camus's face.

"Whose hand is this?"

A hand that pierced through Camus's wall and intruded into her space.

Camus was taken aback and couldn't find words to respond, while Vikir's fingers moved swiftly.

"The answer is, someone stronger."

At the same time, there was another thud!

A tear trickled down Camus's eyes.

She was hit in the same spot again.

The second thud landed exactly in the same place as the first, creating a small bump.

What frustrated Camus even more was that as soon as Vikir's hand struck the second thud, it immediately vanished.

It was a hand that only hit with thuds without delivering a decisive blow.

"How dare you play with me-e-e-e-!?"

An 8-year-old prodigy girl who had grown up like a forbidden child in the underworld of genius.

Camus couldn't contain her rising anger and screamed out loudly.

Eventually, she canceled all the offensive spells and created four mud walls to surround herself.

"There! How about this? No one can break through this! You can't either! Ha-ha!"

Camus didn't care even though his vision was completely dark.

Instead, he was relieved that he didn't have to show his hands rubbing his forehead and a distressed expression.


Sure enough, that despicable Vikir seemed unable to break through these four layers of walls and remained silent.

Camus smiled confidently.

"Hohoho! Defeated! I'm a dwarf, so I can't even break through walls! Look how far you've come, you fool!"

But there was still no response.


Some time passed.

Trapped inside the mud dome, Camus lightly rubbed his forehead and contemplated.

"Oh? But if I stay like this, I can't get out either."

What should he do? His vision was completely obscured, and he couldn't know the situation outside.

He couldn't attempt anything else because he had to maintain the four layers of mud walls.

"Hmm. Should I create a small hole to see the outside?"

Camus slightly relaxed his strength and created a small hole in the mud wall.

And just as he tried to peek outside through the hole.


Vikir's hand swiftly penetrated like a ghost and struck Camus' forehead for the third time.


Three consecutive strikes!

Three small bumps appeared on Camus' forehead, and she writhed in pain and anger.

She raised her blazing eyes and immediately canceled all four layers of mud walls.

As the mud walls crumbled, she could see the face of that despicable brat, who had retreated far away.

"I'm going to kill you! Uwaaah!"

Camus screamed. She was too aggrieved and furious to care about her dignity or anything else.

So she discarded all her defensive spells and simultaneously cast four offensive spells.

An overwhelming firepower that would not be seen even in a 15-year-old prodigy!

Meanwhile, Vikir contemplated in front of Camus' anger.

"...What should I do?"

If he wanted to, he could snap their neck in 0.1 seconds. However, that's not the issue at the moment.

Dealing with a child is troublesome. He doesn't know how far he should go to match their abilities.

As someone who has lived their whole life on the battlefield, it was even more so for Vikir.

Shouldn't he handle it appropriately and calm Morg's young subconsciente rather than the enemy?

In the end, Vikir made a decision.

"The thorn in Morg's side should be dealt with in Morg."

Handling the situation without getting directly involved is the cleanest way.


Just as he looked to the side, he saw a fierce duel taking place in the nearby training ground.

It was a training ground where the 15-year-old Baskerville and the 15-year-old Morg engaged in intense combat with swords and magic.

Both of them were so focused that they didn't notice someone approaching from the surroundings.

The 15-year-old Morg, who could be seen over there, seemed to possess powerful explosive fire magic in the shape of a long-range weapon, as a loud explosion echoed continuously in the training ground.


Vikir quickly moved back and stuck close to the boundary of the adjacent training ground.

And the infuriated Camus pursued Vikir closely, as if not wanting to let him go.

"Well, if it comes to it, the mediators will intervene."

Vikir casually turned his body, and Camus tenaciously chased after him, as if determined not to let him escape.

And then, soon after.


A resounding explosion and expressions of astonishment.

"Oh no!? Camus!"

"This can't be! Lord Camus!"

"No way! Lord Camus...!"

The picture that Vikir desired began to unfold.

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