Revenge of the Iron-Blooded Sword Hound (Novel) Chapter 25

C25: Morgue Camille (6)

"I didn't hear any instructions for you," Morgue Camille said, "so I haven't been listening since then."

Upon hearing those words, Hugo quickly covered his mouth with his hand.

Though his expression remained neutral... it was a gesture clearly hiding a smile.

Camille also looked in this direction with sparkling eyes.

"Hoo... hahaha...."

Only Adolf's veins on his forehead seemed to bulge.

Eventually, he straightened his previously bent waist, aligned with Vikir's eye level, and turned to Hugo to speak.

"Family boss, would you allow me to have a deeper conversation with this child for a moment?"

A representative member of Morgue, and even one of the highest-ranking members of the Ming Party, showing such excessive interest in an ordinary 8-year-old was quite unusual.

And as Hugo, he had little to say in response to such an overreaction from the other side.

"What are you doing with a child like this? Are you really persecuting an 8-year-old boy in the Imperial Mage Academy?"

Hugo replied, returning the words he had heard before without forgetting them.

However, Adolf remained resolute.

"Hehe, he might become the future husband of my niece. This is not a request from the ambassador of Morgue, but a request from an uncle."

"Oh, Uncle! It's not like that!"

"Oh well, let the nephew be. I'll handle it. It's something we should all experience once."

Camus, the head of the family, spoke with a stern expression.

While doing so, she subtly gestured towards Hugo, giving off a nuance of requesting him to maintain his dignity.


Hugo thought to himself that it had been a while since he had flattered the Morgue members for so long, and he clapped his hands.

It meant to do as he wished.

Vikir readily accepted Adolf's request.

Morgue Adolf, even though he was a former regressor, was an absolute powerhouse that was difficult to comprehend. Already in his forties, he held substantial authority, enough to represent the family at official events.

Having the opportunity to experience a glimpse of Adolf's power, even if only slightly, was quite a good opportunity.

Hugo also thought so, which is why he allowed this gathering to take place.

After the annual event ended, everyone left the training ground.

Vikir and Adolf stood facing each other in the spacious field.

The spectators were Hugo Le Baskerville and Morgue Camus.

The two of them stood apart, observing the two individuals in the center of the training ground.

Adolf spoke.

"You, child of Baskerville. I will now test your qualities, so show me everything you have."

Vikir nodded his head and had a different thought.

"If I show you everything, you'll probably faint."

What would happen if he confronted the power of Adolf's prime?

If it were an ambush or assassination, maybe a 50% chance, but in a direct confrontation, perhaps only 10%.

However, he hadn't fully regained the power of his prime, and there was no need to fight with all his might.

He just needed to meet Adolf's expectations within a reasonable limit.

"Shall I show you a bit of my Imperial Mage skills?"

It was said that masters could gauge each other's abilities just by shaking hands.

Vikir intended to roughly estimate the skills of the top-tier masters of the Morgue through this opportunity.

Finally, Adolf spoke.

"Child, let me give you a handicap."

He raised his hand and flicked it towards the ground.


Mud surged from the ground, quickly spinning and forming the shape of a pot.


The flames emitted from Adolf's hand engulfed the pot, hardening it.

Squish, squish, squish...

Soon after, water began to fill the created pot on its own.

It appeared simple, but it was a combination of earth, fire, and water—three different types of magic in one combination.


When Adolf snapped his fingers, the pot, filled with water, slowly floated up into the air and positioned itself above Adolf's head.

Adolf, holding the water-filled pot, looked down at Vikir and spoke.

"I will engage in a duel with you while this pot filled with water is placed above my head. If even a single drop of water flows from the pot on top of my head, it's your victory."

In other words, it meant to give it your best shot.

Vikir took hold of his shortsword and assumed a stance.

Adolf stood with his arms crossed, calmly observing Vikir.



Vikir began to move first.

Rushing straight ahead, Vikir's aggressive charge made Camus hastily shout.

"Whoa!? You're not supposed to charge head-on against our master!"

Upon hearing those words, Adolf turned around to look at Camus with a displeased expression.

"Nephew, what do you expect me to do if you tell me that?"

At the same time, a transparent barrier formed in front of Adolf.


Vikir, who was charging, collided with the wall and was bounced back.

"When facing swordsmen, shield magic is the best. It will be difficult to block with just an ordinary aura sword."

Adolf's words were true.

Especially Adolf was a master of shield magic. He could create shields of various sizes, thicknesses, and shapes according to the situation and location.

Just earlier, Adolf had created a shield of the exact size to block Vikir's torso to minimize mana wastage.

However, Vikir was no ordinary opponent either.


Utilizing the recoil from being bounced back, Vikir distanced himself and immediately changed trajectory, moving sideways.

At the same time.

Smack! Thud!

Vikir kicked several pebbles in the opposite direction he was moving.

The stones flew straight toward the water-filled pot.

"It's not wise to rely on miracles."

Without even looking at the direction the stones were coming from, Adolf used his hand to conjure a shield.

And once again, he summoned a small shield toward Vikir, who was coming from the opposite direction.

Vikir was once again bounced back from the collision.

Adolf opened his mouth.

"Now it's my turn to attack."

As soon as he finished speaking, fiery spears were summoned ominously swirling around.

Bolts of fire, rapidly descending towards the empty space! Each one is powerful enough to pierce through the sturdy ground of the training field and create deep craters.

Upon seeing that, Camus exclaimed in shock.

"Master! This is too much! You never used such magic even when sparring with me!"

"...Nephew, whose side are you on right now?"

Adolf wore a deeply displeased expression.

However, Vikir was skillfully evading the incoming spears of fire.

"Hmm, is this all?"

Vikir knew that Adolf's magic power hadn't undergone significant changes, neither then nor now.

At this level, it was already familiar to him.

"I see how I should approach this."

Combining his experienced combat skills from before the regression and the innocent face of a prodigious child he had after the regression.

By skillfully combining these two aspects, he could lure the opponent into complacency and achieve unexpected results.

"If done well, I could even kill him."

A chilling thought brushed through his mind, but there was no need to cause such a major incident.

He had to handle this situation well, considering Hugo's watchful gaze.


Vikir moved as if driven to desperation, chased by the fiery spears.

Drawing his sword hastily, he swung it towards Adolf.


"No way."

Adolf's summoned shield blocked Vikir's sword.

Clang! Clang! Thud! Clink!

Vikir swung his sword again, but it was blocked by the shield every time.

Adolf maintained his composure.

"No matter how many times you try, it will be the same. Your sword cannot penetrate the shield."

But Vikir didn't give up.


The sword was swung once again.


And it struck the shield.

Vikir continued repeating the same motion, and Adolf kept blocking the sword with the same shield.

Clang! Clang! Thud! Clang!

The sword continued striking the same spot without any deviation.

Vikir's sword flew with precise mechanical movements, and the repeated slashing followed the same trajectory.

At this point, Adolf also noticed that something was amiss.


Vikir's sword had been repeatedly striking the same area of the shield since earlier.

The shield itself was gradually wearing down due to the sword's impact.

Especially as the shocks kept hitting the same spot, the magical fatigue on that part had already accumulated significantly.

"Hahaha, you keep striking the same spot to break through my shield, huh? Quite a daring idea. Your ability to concentrate and your swordsmanship skills, which can precisely target the same spot without any deviation, deserve praise."

However, Adolf's gaze turned cold.

"But that's nothing more than hitting a rock with an egg. Have you considered the durability of my shield and your sword?"

He was right.

Clang! Thud!

The moment Vikir's sword struck Adolf's shield for the eleventh time...


Vikir's sword shattered into pieces.

In the end, Vikir had to retreat, retrieving his broken sword.

Hugo stroked his chin in silence, while Camus closed her mouth with a disappointed expression.

Adolf spoke to Vikir, who had moved back to a distance.

"It's commendable that you persist with a single stance, but you should adapt while observing your opponent. Your potential is quite remarkable, but you still have a long way to go to become my nephew's equal..."

As Adolf was about to conclude his lecture, he suddenly felt his upper lip moisten and stopped speaking.

"What's wrong?"

When Adolf felt that something was amiss.

Drip, drip, drip, drip...

The water that had splashed on his upper lip began to trickle down, running across his face.


Adolf raised his head, perplexed, and saw a stream of water gushing out from a water jug.


It turned out that a shard from Vikir's broken sword, which had bounced off earlier, had pierced the jug's side, causing water to flow incessantly.

With his forehead, chin, and even the back of his neck drenched, Adolf wore a dazed expression.

Thud, thud, thud...

Vikir walked up to him and spoke.

"It seems like you're overflowing."

Of course, he was referring to the water in the jug.

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