C9: Hellhound (2)
At Baskerville House, practical exams take place several times a day.
Mostly, it involves the brothers competing against each other to determine their strength. And most fights begin with this breed announcing the start.
Thunk!
The young hunting dogs of Baskerville House, who were tense in an unfamiliar environment, immediately snapped to attention at the familiar sound.
And as they had learned, they instinctively revealed their aggression.
One of the nine-year-old Baskerville kids quickly leaped across to the other side of the wasteland.
This guy had gained quite an advantage by occupying favorable terrain here last year.
However, he didn't possess the intelligence to consider the gazes directed towards him, even though he remembered the point from last year.
Sharp-eyed eight-year-olds pursued him from behind.
They planned to intercept whatever he was trying to obtain.
These clever kids pretended to know something and rushed ahead, luring their competitors into dangerous pits and swamps, tidying up annoying flies all at once.
Highbro, Middlebro, and Lowbro were the cunning trio behind such schemes.
"Occupy from that side."
"Don't give orders."
"We're doing fine on our own, so you guys just do your thing."
The nine-year-olds were already showing their prowess. By the way, these kids used similar methods last year when they eliminated piles of students a year older than them.
Within a few hours of the bell ringing, the number of eliminated contestants began to increase.
They were shocked, fainted, rolled down steep slopes, got stuck in swamps, or were stabbed and cut by sharp objects.
The reasons varied, but the fundamental cause was the same.
They fell victim to the hands of their siblings.
...Clang!
In the forest, the sound of metal fragments colliding could be heard from various places.
The young children of Baskerville, as soon as the competition began, were fighting each other with the short swords given to them.
The swords were dull, unable to cause fatal injuries.
Killing opponents in this competition is not recommended.
It is not prohibited, but it is not encouraged either.
If they kill their opponents, they will receive deductions in points... and the point deduction is quite significant. So the children did their best to avoid personally killing their opponents.
Of course, if their skills are good enough and they have accumulated enough points to withstand the deduction, or if they can discreetly kill their opponents without being noticed by the Working Dogs, then it doesn't matter.
Well, even though the Working Dogs, who serve as guardian knights, keep a watchful eye 24/7, accidents and incidents frequently occur during the practical evaluations. So, this is an opportunity to eliminate rivals or get rid of someone they didn't want to see.
...However.
Amidst this fierce competition, Vikir was absent.
Vikir acted as if he had no interest in scoring from the beginning.
His only action was to swiftly leave the protected area as soon as the paper was drawn and establish himself in the wasteland on the outskirts of the border adjacent to the forbidden zone.
"...Was it around here?"
Vikir was reminiscing about his days as a former examinee and an instructor.
If he went straight in this direction, there was a wasteland that was precariously within the border area.
In that place, there was a withered tree standing tall, and its roots, which extended deep into the ground, were decaying and making the entire ground soft.
Eventually, Vikir found the land he was aiming for.
The soil there was unusually reddish and soft compared to other places.
Vikir broke off a branch and began to dig into the ground.
While the other siblings were engaged in fierce battles in distant places, gaining and losing points, Vikir silently continued digging the hole.
The Working Dogs guardian knights were observing Vikir from a hidden location.
However, even after several days, Vikir continued to dig the hole without showing any other actions.
"He must be just killing time by hiding there."
"A bit disappointing, isn't it?"
"We don't need to keep watching him."
As Vikir had shown his potential from a young age, the knights had some expectations, but this turned out to be quite underwhelming. Digging a hole and hiding was typical behavior for cowards and insignificant kids from the lower ranks.
Eventually, the knights who couldn't keep watching started to divert their attention away from Vikir, focusing only on the fights between the children.
However, they failed to notice how deep Vikir was digging the hole or what he was doing inside, despite him being just eight years old.
"This place still feels like a cradle."
Vikir sat on the bottom of the hole, enjoying a peaceful time.
The unfamiliar enemies and the black mountains turned out to be a comfortable and cozy place. The knights stood guard outside, and competitors didn't come this far.
When thirsty, he could collect dew on the large leaves hanging from the hole's wall, and when hungry, he could catch and roast passing snakes or moles. It tasted much better than the preserved rations or baby food-like Hesgies served during his infancy.
Even the makeshift bed he made himself was more comfortable. The child-sized beds made of demon shells or thornwood were hard and rough. But in this hole, there were dried straw, sawdust, and a layer of leftover ashes, making it soft and cozy.
As dusk fell, Vikir closed his eyes for a moment while roasting a captured shrew over the campfire.
<Shrew 'Norvegicus'>
Danger Level: F
Size: 50cm
Habitat: Across the continent
-A mouse transformed grotesquely due to exposure to magic.
Adult specimens possess intelligence and a size comparable to small dogs, making them objects of disgust among women.
If the internal organs are removed and they are well roasted over fire or boiled in water, surprisingly, they can be edible.
When it comes to information about demons, even the low-ranking ones remember everything vividly.
Thanks to the Demon Compendium that was memorized before regression.
Of course, Vikir was not the only one who memorized the Demon Compendium and traveled around the world before regression.
In the Age of Destruction, everyone was a hunter.
"...But now, I'm the only one left as a hunter."
Perhaps he was in a position closer to a hunting dog raised by a hunter.
But because of that, he could make hunters even more pitiful.
"There is no existence more ironic than a hunter who dies from being bitten by his own dog."
Suddenly, the conversation he had with Hugo before regression came to mind.
It was before the execution.
"When training a dog, you must be prepared for them to die. Usually, two out of three will die. Do you think it's cruel?"
"No, I don't."
"Of course, you shouldn't. Because the owner must also be prepared to be bitten and killed by the dog during training. The owner must always receive training. You never know when you'll be bitten by a blind tooth."
Hugo himself was aware of this fact.
Perhaps that's why Hugo didn't trust anyone in this world, not even himself.
"..."
Vikir shook his head to clear his thoughts.
Then, he took out a small bean from the pouch hanging from his waist.
Blood beans. A dark red bean with an incredible concentration of cocoa.
Vikir threw a single bean into the bonfire.
The plump bean sizzled as it fattened with oil, releasing the odor of roasted rat meat, its pungent and gamey smell dissipating to reveal a faint cocoa fragrance.
"When it comes to removing the gamey odor from meat, nothing beats cocoa beans, especially the highly concentrated blood beans!"
It was a cooking technique Vikir had learned from a senior sergeant who had served in the same squad during the war against demons.
"...Camping brings back a lot of memories."
Vikir looked around.
The watchful gazes that had been upon him were now gone.
Perhaps the working dogs, feeling uninterested in his actions, had moved elsewhere.
...If that was the case, then the time had come.
Vikir reached out to the stack of firewood he had piled up.
Then, he drew his dagger from his waist and started shaving the trees.
Spears.
Vikir inverted the sharply pointed wooden spears and placed them in various spots on the pit's floor.
Spears that jutted high, as if piercing the sky.
Dozens, even hundreds of them, driven into the pit's floor.
Like fangs protruding from the lower jaw of a fierce beast.
Vikir himself had yet to consider what these teeth would sink into.
Because beyond the border between the enemies and the Black Mountain, in the "Forbidden Zone," there were powerful and enormous demons that the present-day humans could not even imagine.
...Well, as someone who had survived the Age of Destruction, Vikir was familiar with most of these things, so to speak.
"A tree has fallen."
Vikir discovered that all the wood he had chopped was depleted.
Not enough wood to carve spears or throw into the bonfire.
Vikir moved outside the pit to gather more wood.
Since the sight of the Guardian Knights had vanished, he could now cross over into the Forbidden Zone and cut down trees.
Eventually, Vikir stealthily crossed the boundary and entered the Forbidden Zone.
The damages caused by the enemies and the Black were overwhelmingly dense.
Stems and roots grew without distinction, turning the entire forest into a colossal maze, a jungle gym without any horizontal or vertical divisions.
If one were to look at the dark caves that penetrated through the charred and dead tree roots, it would be easy to suspect that they might be passageways leading to hell itself.
If it were the normal hunting dogs of Baskerville, they would instinctively avoid this gloomy and fiery place. However, Vikir, on the contrary, ventures into the cave on his own.
"Let's see... This should be roughly the habitat, I suppose."
Vikir wandered through the forest for a long time.
During his time as a drillmaster or a soldier, he roamed around this place like it was his backyard, so he felt quite familiar.
Finally.
Vikir discovered something.
Sizzle, sizzle...
It was the sound of smoldering embers buried in the ashes.
Following the smell of burning charcoal, he finally spotted what he was searching for.
It was a pile of dung.
Inside the charred dung pile, a lingering flame was still burning.
As far as Vikir knew, there was only one demon that produced such scorching hot feces.
Raising his head and crawling a little further into the root cave of the forest, Vikir finally saw the owner of the dung.
Enormous size, sharp teeth and claws, and glowing eyes resembling flames.
<Hell Hound>
Danger Level: B+
Size: 3m
Habitat: Border of the enemy and the dark mountain range, Section 2
Also known as the "dog that carries hell."
Encountering it brings inevitable and terrible calamity. Once bitten by it, one can never survive.
The brimstone fire spewing from its eyes and mouth carries the embers of the deepest part of the oil inferno, and it never extinguishes until the life used as firewood is completely burned away.
There wasn't much information about this dangerous monster in the guidebook.
However, Vikir had faced quite a few of these monsters throughout the age of destruction.
"Finally found you."
The reason for coming to the enemy and the dark mountain range was precisely to meet these "creatures."
Vikir quickly turned around.
As soon as the Hell Hound spotted Vikir, it charged at him like a madman.
Bark! Bark! Bark!
The hunting dog pursued Vikir closely from behind.
Vikir threw himself into the cave next to the swamp.
Crash!
The Hell Hound couldn't overcome its intense momentum and stumbled a few steps, unable to maintain a straight path.
"As expected, a fool who only knows how to charge straight ahead."
Beings that crawled up from hell mostly couldn't do anything other than go straight.
Even elite demons like Hell Hounds showed weakness when suddenly deviating from their straight pattern.
Grrrr...
The Hell Hound turned around again and began pursuing Vikir.
Vikir prepared for the next move.
Crash!
A few drops of dew were gathered to create a water supply, which was then sprayed on the ground, forming a long line.
...Flinch!
The Hell Hound abruptly halted its charge.
This demon, belonging to the Oil Realm species, couldn't cross water, no matter how shallow or thin it was.
Apart from running in a straight line, it wasn't skilled at much, so the Hell Hound had to go around the water stain on the ground.
Hunters who had survived the Age of Destruction were well aware of this fact, but it was a behavior that was not well-known in the present due to a lack of research.
"Well, later when the gates of the Demon Realm open, and Hell Hounds roam the entire continent, it will inevitably be revealed."
Vikir faced the Hell Hound.
The Hell Hound's momentum decreased after circling the water stain, but it still remained formidable.
Indeed, even experts above intermediate level knights found it challenging to handle a Hell Hound in a one-on-one situation.
Before his regression, Vikir himself was a powerful hunter who could barely defeat a Hell Hound when he was eighteen years old.
However, Vikir didn't come this far without any countermeasures.
"Monsters with canine features tend to open their mouths wide when they run."
As a seasoned hunter who lived through the Age of Destruction, he brought out a secret weapon he had prepared for this situation.
The most effective weapon for hunting canine-like demons.
...Crunch!
The sound of chocolate-covered coffee beans colliding within his fist.
Blood Bean Kakao beans.
It was chocolate.
