Revenge of the Iron-Blooded Sword Hound (Novel) Chapter 37

C37: Slave Auction (3)

"The method of cleaning up the underground economy is indeed simple. It is to penetrate the core hidden among the pawn organizations."

Vikir repeated the line he had spoken to Chihuahua.

The gathering place where the massive underground economy of Underdog City and the influential figures who control it come together.

Vikir already knew about it thanks to his knowledge from before his regression.

However, it would be difficult to subdue this large-scale den with just a small force.

That's why Vikir had made preparations in advance.

"Can I borrow it for a moment?"

The conversation he had with Hugo before leaving Baskerville.

Vikir had clearly said the following at that time.

"Can I borrow the Knights for a moment?"

After contemplating, Hugo gave his permission to Vikir.

He granted him the right to freely operate a single Knights division for half a day, which was a small part of Baskerville's military authority.

"I believe you won't do anything foolish. My son."

Although it was limited, granting military power implied a significant meaning.

It meant recognizing Vikir as a son and treating him accordingly.

Thus, one of the key forces driving Baskerville's military power, the 'Pitbull Knights,' came under Vikir's control.

With a hundred members, all graduates, a bloodthirsty division that left no survivors once they were deployed became Vikir's underlings for the next six hours.

And now, Vikir is using them to sweep away the corruption in Underdog City all at once.

"Hugo was particularly sensitive about military authority. It's fortunate that he handed over the Pitbull Knights safely."

Hugo, with his character that highly guarded against local retainers having soldiers, was expected to not easily hand over the Knights.

But surprisingly, Hugo's trust in Vikir was strong, making things easier.

Vikir scanned the Pitbull Knights lined up behind him.

One mustn't expose their fangs recklessly when it comes to fighting.

Third-rate fighters flaunt their strength arrogantly and underestimate the enemy.

Second-rate fighters react too hastily to the enemy's movements.

First-rate fighters possess patience and composure, but their gaze is filled with aggression.

And finally, the pinnacle fighters remain completely calm, unresponsive even in the face of the enemy's rampage and threats, like lifeless objects.

The virtue of the wooden rooster.

Just like carving a piece of wood.

In that regard, one could say the Pitbull Knights were a well-trained group of fighters.

They now stood behind Vikir like tree stumps, waiting for his command.

Vikir gave them the signal.

"Eliminate them all."

Finally, the hundred Pitbulls bared their fangs.

Vikir shouted toward the charging fighters.

"Don't kill those who surrender meekly. But if they make even the slightest movement, kill them mercilessly."

It was a warning.

Vikir's words were impactful enough for the enemy to hear.

Those who had lost the will to fight quickly dropped their weapons, fell to the ground, and raised their hands and feet in surrender.

However, most people couldn't do the same.


"Please, save me!"

The head of a screaming lady, trembling in fear, was mercilessly severed.

Underneath her fur-stained coat, her chubby head rolled and tumbled.

A middle-aged man fleeing the scene had his entrails spill out all over the ground.

Regardless of whether they were men or women, those who tried to escape or screamed in terror were being killed off.

...However, those who meekly lay down were not unharmed.

"Ugh, let's just lie down for now. As soon as things calm down a bit, we'll make a run for it."

A few people laid down on the ground, placing their bellies against it and raising their hands and feet in surrender.

It was a signal to await handcuffs.


"We don't carry handcuffs or the like."

One of the Pitbull Knights approached them, smiling slyly.

At the moment when those lying on the ground were about to ask what they would be tied up with...

Thud! The sound of a swift motion!

The Pitbull Knight's sword swept past their arms and legs.

Their wrists and ankles fell to the ground with a thud.


"What the hell is this!?"

Those who appeared to be attempting to flee while on the ground suddenly sprawled out like insects.

Meanwhile, the Pitbull Knights paid no attention to them and launched themselves towards other moving prey.

On the other hand, standing beside Vikir was a middle-aged man with black hair, reciting a thick poem.

He had a triangular, well-built body, a square jaw, sagging cheeks, sunglasses covering his eyes, and impressive scars running across his face.

The head of the Pitbull Knights, Viscount Boston Terrier Le Baskerville, asked Vikir.

"Nephew, are you satisfied?"

"Yes, Uncle."

"Hehehe, you little rascal. If you ever need help again, just say the word."

He quite liked his nephew Vikir for no particular reason other than finding his energetic nature appealing.

Coupled with the favor from their family boss, Hugo, having a close relationship with his nephew seemed harmless in the Boston Terrier's judgment.

Vikir, too, didn't hold a particularly negative view of the Boston Terrier, who pursued only blood and combat, without any interest in power, honor, or political struggles.

At that moment, the Chihuahua beside them spoke with a trembling voice.

"Subcónsul, but is it alright to treat them like that? They are nobles, after all, even if we cut off their wrists and ankles."

"Well, what does it matter? They're all soon to face execution anyway. It's enough to prevent them from escaping with their lives."

Upon hearing Vikir's response, the Boston Terrier Viscount chuckled, expressing even greater satisfaction.

"Hehehe, nephew, you must join our Pitbull Knights in the future. Your uncle will raise you properly."

To this, Vikir merely responded with a faint smile.

Eventually, about a minute had passed since the sudden intrusion of the Pitbull Knights, and the situation had completely ended.

As if capturing all in one fell swoop.

The notorious villains in the Underdog City were either dead or captured.

Of course, there were some who happened to be absent, but by searching through the records and contact information of those captured, it would be easy to track them down.

"This... This is truly an unprecedented achievement! It's absolutely perfect!"

The Chihuahua trembled with excitement as she watched the criminals being apprehended in a line in the distance.

The war against crime had been suddenly declared and ended astonishingly quickly.

Now they had to clean up the remnants, but it would be a piece of cake at this point.

The indigenous clans who had also lost their wayward sons would probably not dare to speak lightly about this incident.

The future of the Underdog City was clear, transparent, and undeniably bright.

"Congratulations! Now no one will dare to challenge you, Vikir...?"

The Chihuahua turned her head in joy.

However, Vikir, who should have heard those words of praise, had already left and disappeared a long time ago.

"...I guess it's about time."

Vikir had returned to the back of the auction house without anyone noticing.

On the opposite stage, the slaughter was still ongoing.

By that time, Vikir had discreetly slipped away and come to this warehouse where the auction items were stored.

The warehouse was filled with an enormous amount of gold and treasures.

All of them were purchases made by the nobles who visited this place, paid in cash.

"...We'll definitely secure a good amount."

All of these would be allocated to the city treasury, strengthening the financial power of Baskerville even further.

Vikir didn't feel particularly good about it, considering Hugo's preferences, but it wasn't the most important matter right now, so he let it go.

Vikir searched the warehouse for a while.

Promissory notes and account books piled up in front of him.

They would all serve as valuable evidence for the upcoming clean-up operation against the remnants, so he decided to keep them safely stored.

However, Vikir had a separate target in mind.

Vikir firmly grasped a white cloth that was covering something in a corner of the warehouse and wetted it.

And then, there it was.


Instead of what Vikir was searching for, something completely unexpected came into view.

Iron bars, and within them, a captive savage girl.

The girl who had been rampaging ferociously until just now was now crouched in a corner, whimpering.

"...Nngh, nguh."

The savage girl made sounds of pain, indicating where she was hurt. Her entire body showed signs of malnutrition and abuse. It seemed like she had been whipped from outside the iron bars.

"So, she was punished after biting the fingers of the merchants earlier."

Vikir clicked his tongue momentarily.

Then, he took out a potion from his waist, which was meant for use by the knights.

Opening the iron bar door, he sprayed the potion onto the girl's body.


With a loud noise, the wounds began to heal, and fresh skin emerged.

The whimpering girl opened her eyes and, upon seeing Vikir inside the iron bars, was startled and quickly hid in a corner.

Vikir quietly observed the savage girl.

Her hair was a mixture of black and silver strands. She had pointed ears and charcoal-black markings on her face.

Looking at her arms and thighs, he noticed familiar tooth and claw marks.


Memories from the past resurfaced.

During the practical exam at the age of eight, Vikir had crossed the safety boundary and encountered the A+ ranked demon Cerberus in the dark mountains.

He remembered that Cerberus had arrow-shaped scars all over its flank at that time.

"Hmm. Could it be that the savage tribe that hunted Cerberus back then...?"

It was a reasonable conjecture.

Meanwhile, the savage girl, having regained some energy as her wounds healed, crouched in a corner of the iron bars and stared at Vikir with an intent gaze.

Vikir spoke briefly.


It meant 'Go' in their language.

Upon hearing those words, the savage girl widened her eyes in surprise.

Vikir shrugged his shoulders.

He knew some basic savage language since he had fought countless battles against the savage tribes in the dark mountains before his regression.


Escape, Vikir's words urged her to run away.

The savage girl blinked her large eyes rapidly in response.

As Vikir left the bottle containing the remaining potion on the ground and stepped out of the iron bars, the savage girl finally stumbled out, trembling.


She stared fixedly at Vikir for a few seconds, then tore through the tent and fled.

She took the potion bottle that Vikir had placed on the ground.

"אתה תראה אותי שוב."

The savage girl left a last-minute remark, but her words were too fast for Vikir to understand.

"Now, let's find what we truly sought."

Vikir turned his head and continued with his task.

Gold and silver treasures, promissory notes and ledgers, checks, antiques, artworks...

However, Vikir had something separate in mind.

"Ah, here it is."

Finally, Vikir removed the red cloth covering a corner in the innermost part of the auction house.

There, a massive beast with large horns lay revealed.

<Hellish Bull 'Mursielago'>

Threat Level: A

Size: 3m

Discovered: Enemy and Dark Mountain Range, Sector 2

A type of bovine creature that inhabits the depths of Hell, known to possess nine hearts and relentlessly charges until all of them cease beating.
Wing, wing, wing, wing...

The Baaljebup on Vikir's wrist whined, indicating hunger.

The sound of the Pitbull Knights' slashing blades and the screams of the enemies grew closer from a distance.

It seemed like they would have to finish their meal quickly and depart.

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