The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound

Chapter 25: Morg Camus (6)

"You said it wasn't for me to hear, so I didn't listen after that."

At those words, Hugo hastily covered the corner of his mouth with his hand.

Though expressionless from the hand up, it was a... gesture that hid a smile from anyone who saw it.

Camus also stares at him with wide eyes.

"Hoo... hoo hoo hoo hoo...."

Only Adolf's forehead is covered in blood.

He straightened his bent back to meet Vikir's eye and looked back at Hugo.

"My lord. Will you allow me to speak with this child for a few moments?"

It was highly unusual for a delegate of House Morg, much less a top member of the power, to take such an undue interest in a mere eight-year-old.

And Hugo didn't have much to say in response to his opponent's overreaction.

"What are you doing with that kid? Is the Mad Star of the Empire persecuting an eight-year-old boy?"

Hugo hadn't forgotten what he'd heard before, and he was returning the favor.

But Adolf was stubborn.

"Hehe, isn't this a child who may one day be my niece's husband, and I'm asking you this as an uncle, not as the head of Morg's delegation?"

"Oh, uncle, it's not like that!"

"Uh-huh, leave my nephew alone. This uncle will take care of it. We all have to see this once in a while."

Adolf says with a stern look on his face as Camus speaks up.

He nudges Hugo with a sly glance, a nuanced way of asking him to save face.

"...."

Hugo threw up his hands, thinking that it had been a long time since he'd had to deal with the Morg.

Do as you please.

* * *

Vikir readily accepted Adolf's request.

Morg Adolf was an absolute powerhouse who had been difficult to deal with even before his regression. At the age of forty, he is already the acting head of the family at official events.

The chance to experience a little bit of Adolf's power was a good one.

I'm sure Hugo thought so too, which is why he allowed me to attend.

After the annual ceremony, everyone cleared out of the ballroom.

Vikir and Adolf stood facing each other in a large field.

The observers were Hugo Les Baskerville and Morg Camus.

They stood at a distance from each other, looking at the two men in the center of the arena.

Adolf said.

"Child of Baskerville, I am about to test your qualities, so show me all that you are."

Vikir nodded and thought of something else.

"If I show you all of me, you'll faint."

What would happen if I faced him at his pre-regression peak?

Fifty percent in ambush and assassination, ten percent in hand-to-hand combat.

But I don't have all of my pre-regression strength back, and I don't have to fight to the best of my ability.

I just need to fulfill Adolf's expectations in moderation.

"Let's see what confidence can do."

It's said that masters can tell each other's skill by shaking hands.

Vikir thought he'd take this opportunity to see how Morg stacks up against the top players.

Then Adolf said.

"Child, I give you a handicap."

He raised his hand and swung it toward the ground.

Boom!

Mud rose up from the ground and swirled around to form the shape of a jar.

Boom!

The flames from Adolf's hand solidified the clay.

...

Next, the jar began to fill with water spontaneously.

A seemingly simple combination of earth, fire, and water, three magical elements all at once.

...just right!

Adolf snapped his fingers, and the jar of water slowly rose into the air and landed on top of Adolf's head.

Carrying the jar of water, Adolf looked down at Vikir and said.

"I will fight you with this jar full of water on my head. If you can get even one drop of water to flow from the jar on my head, you win."

In other words, go for it.

Vikir gripped his short sword and took up his stance.

Adolf crossed his arms and stared at Vikir.

And then.

...Tadak!

Vikir made the first move.

Seeing Vikir charging straight at him, Camus cried out in alarm.

"Uh-uh! You can't run straight at my uncle!"

Hearing this, Adolf looks back at camus with a very regretful expression.

"Nephew, I don't want you to tell him that."

At the same time, a transparent barrier forms in front of Adolf's eyes.

Pow!

Vikir is knocked back against the wall as he charges.

"Shield magic is best when dealing with swordsmen. Even an aura sword will be hard pressed to stop them."

Adolf's words were true.

Adolf, in particular, was a master of shield magic, able to create shields of various sizes, thicknesses, and shapes to suit the time and place.

Earlier, he had created a shield just the right size to cover Vikir's torso to minimize the waste of mana.

However, Vikir is no slouch either.

...Ta-da!

Vikir used the backward bouncing momentum to close the distance, then immediately turned and moved to the side.

At the same time.

Bam! Bam!

Vikir kicked a few cobblestones in the opposite direction of his travels.

The stones flew straight toward the water jar.

"It's not a good idea to aim for the jug."

Without even looking in the direction the rocks were coming from, Adolf used his hands to create a shield.

He summoned another, smaller shield for the incoming Vikir.

Vikir bounced back from another blow.

Adolf opened his mouth.

"From now on, I will attack as well."

Before he can finish his sentence, fire spears are summoned.

Fire bolts descend rapidly through the air, each one powerful enough to pierce the solid soil of the smokefield and create a deep pit.

Seeing this, Camus cried out.

"Uncle, that's not fair, you didn't even use that kind of magic against me!"

"You are my ... nephew. Whose side are you on now?"

Adolf looked bitterly disappointed.

But Vikir was frantically dodging the flying fire spears.

"Hmm. That's it.

Vikir's familiarity with Adolf's power hadn't changed much since then.

This level was already familiar.

'I see how to deal with him.

The seasoned battle experience before the regression, and the innocent face of a child afterward.

The combination of the two can catch your opponent off guard and lead to unexpected results.

'Or kill him.'

A ghastly thought crossed my mind, but... I didn't need to make a big deal out of it.

Hugo's eyes were on me, and I needed to get this right.

"Eeeeee!"

Vikir moved as if chased by flames.

Vikir quickly drew his sword and swung at Adolf.

But.

"Not a chance."

Adolf's shield blocks Vikir's blade.

Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang!

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

Adolf grumbled.

"Same thing a hundred times. Your sword can't pierce the shield."

But Vikir did not give up.

Boom.

The sword swings.

Boom!

And it hits the shield.

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

Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom!

The sword was hitting the same place over and over again without missing a beat.

Vikir's sword flew with machine-like precision, the same trajectory repeated countless times.

At this point, even Adolf realized that something was wrong.

"...hoh."

Vikir's blade was hitting the same spot on the shield over and over again.

The shield was getting worn down by the blade.

Especially since it was constantly hitting only one part, the magical fatigue level of that part was already quite high.

"Hahahaha- you're trying to pierce the shield by hitting the same spot over and over again, what a bold idea. I can't help but praise your concentration and swordsmanship for being able to target the same spot over and over again without missing a beat."

However, Adolf's eyes immediately turn cold.

"But... that's like trying to hit a boulder with an egg, and you're trying to do that against the durability of my shield and the durability of your sword?"

He was right.

Bam! Bam!

Vikir's sword struck Adolf's shield for the tenth time.

...Pow!

Vikir's sword finally shatters and breaks.

Vikir was forced to retrieve his broken sword and step back.

Hugo stroked his chin and remained speechless, while Camus looked disappointed.

Adolf turned to Vikir, who had retreated into the distance.

"I admire your stubbornness and willingness to stick to one position, but it's something you have to do while watching your opponent. You're a fine young man, but you're far from qualified to be my nephew's husb...."

Adolph was about to end the line with an admonition.

... but.

He immediately felt the top of his head grow damp and stopped speaking.

"What is it?

When Adolf realized that something was wrong.

Gurgling.

A trickle of water dampened his hair and began to run down his face.

"...?"

Dazed, Adolf looks up and sees a jar of water leaking from his head.

"...Boom!

The shard of Vikir's sword that broke and bounced off earlier had stuck into the side of the jar, causing it to leak water.

Adolf, soaked from the crown of his head to his chin and even to the nape of his neck, looked on in a daze.

Thud, thud, thud, thud.

Vikir walked up to him and said.

"You're full to the brim."

He was referring to the water in the jar, of course.