Iron Blooded Hound

Chapter 77: Divine Confrontation

The ways to the authority home opened.

True to form, there was nobody on the opposite side of the entryway.

There was just a stone sculpture with a pious voice.

"What business have you come to see me for?" The voice of the righteous Dolores came from the sculpture's mouth.

Evidently, she won't meet Vikir face to face.

"..., obviously. It's just regular."

Vikir's outfit currently looked dubious.

An enormous cap, a stork's snout gas veil, and a dark shroud covering his whole body.

No big surprise the holy person wouldn't meet him face to face.

Vikir moved toward the sculpture and talked.

"I have come to report a plague in the ghettos."

As he spoke, Vikir held out a pail of well water, permeated with the energy of the Red Demise.

A decent minister would have the option to distinguish the unconventional emanation of this water.

The occasion.

[....]

The voice from the sculpture cut off.

Vikir suspected. The holy person had quit sending her voice through the stone.

And afterward.

...Tsk!

The entryway behind him forcefully closed.

It wasn't the one to focus on.

...ding! ... ding! ... ding! ... ding! ... ding!

The entryways on the front and sides started to close.

In a moment, the primary hall was segregated and formed like a gladiatorial field.

Cha-cha-cha-cha-cha-cha!

All of a sudden, a line of white-reinforced paladins showed up on the porch on the subsequent floor.

"...."

Vikir investigated.

Regularly an entryway and parlor, the room was intended to be changed over into a combat zone when absolutely necessary.

For sure, with each of the five entryways and halls hindered, there was never a way out toward any path, or more them was an attack organization of ever-present paladins.

The different sculptures got into the corners give no disguise, and once caught, essentially nothing remains to be finished except for sit tight for judgment.

"...."

Nonetheless, Vikir doesn't respond, simply remains there quietly.

As though he had proactively guessed this response.

All at once.

"Who are you?"

The gravelly voice came from among the sculptures on the principal floor.

Past it, a man ventures into the focal point of the square.

More than two meters tall, with a scarred, shaven head, white protective layer and fabric folded over his whole body.

The man has no eyebrows, an observably enormous nose, and a huge mouth.

His eyes were tenderly bended as though he were grinning, however the air he emitted was very brutal.

His arms, thick as logs, supported a huge book, which had all the earmarks of being a blessed book or the like.

Vikir squinted behind his gas cover.

'...Inquisitor Mozgus. It's definitely been a while.'

"Mozgus Quavadis. He was a companion of mine before I returned.

A man I frequently entrusted with my back fighting against devils.

His mass resembles an iron wall, and the sacred power he transmits can illuminate 1,000 miles.

A man who might never think twice about shamefulness and could be more horrible than the evil spirits themselves when it came to equity.

It was reviving to see an old confidant in-arms here, who had passed on so marvelously during the Evil presence War, without any help going head to head against 1,000 devils.

"On second thought, I gained my torment methods from him."

Vikir reviewed the recollections of tormenting the bosses of the Seven Families in Longshot City.

However, those lovely (?) recollections have a place with Vikir alone, and in this life, Mozgus is seeing Vikir interestingly.

He held up a thick Book of scriptures that probably gauged many kilograms and went to Vikir.

"You are dressed dubiously for somebody who has come to report a plague in the ghettos, and I won't permit you to see the blessed lady until you eliminate that cover and show a few habits."

"I can't eliminate my gas cover on purpose. My obligations are finished at the purpose in revealing, so I should return."

Vikir dropped the sack of red demise to the ground and brought his arms up in a token of hesitant.

Then, he gradually stepped back.

"Blasphemer!"

Mozgus hurried forward.

He slammed his Book of scriptures, a weapon by its own doing, down on Vikir's head and attempted to step on him.

Be that as it may, Vikir was quicker.

Vikir exploited the hole in the book's vertical movement, and instantly, he was back through the empty between Mozgus' sides.

Boom!

A profound break showed up in the floor where Mozgus had hit with the book.

Vikir squinted at the white air radiating from the sides of the pages of Mozgus' character book.

'A book. You actually use a strange weapon, and you're a moderate to cutting edge Slope.'

Half on par with what he was before his relapse.

In any case, considering that this was the home of the Quarvadis and that he had the heavenly ability to mend himself, it was very nearly a tie.

As he watched Vikir take up his position, Mozgus let out a low snarl.

"I sense an abhorrent energy in the water in that moronic thing. In the event that that is to be sure a plague, you should be the one spreading it."

"In the event that I were the offender, how could I come to report it?"

"We don't have the foggiest idea. Perhaps it's a stunt, or perhaps it's a stratagem to draw you out."

Vikir shrugged, on the grounds that it appeared to be legit.

"I'm only here to report a dubious gathering spreading plague in the ghettos."

"Your outfit is the most dubious for saying something like this. We'll hear your assertion later, in prison."

With that, Mozgus swung the book around.

Parallax.

The book opened, the white pages inside flipping over with a boisterous pop.

Simultaneously, electrical discharges atmosphere exude from the pages, focusing on Vikir.

"Have you at any point been cut by solid paper? It harms."

Mozgus was playing out a weird and special assault, opening the Holy book and cutting with his quality against the sharp edges of the pages.

Quack, quack, quack!

Many pages of material dissipated this way and that.

All nonetheless, with a likewise dark spooky development, Vikir evaded Mozgus' blows.

It was a stunt he had gained from the trackers of Balak.

Simultaneously, Vikir drew the enchanted sword Satan from his wrist.

...Blood!

The tip of the edge ejected with a tacky air.

"Graduator!"

Mozgus and different paladins were staggered.

Vikir's emanation, a strong quality that was no counterpart for Mozgus', was currently interlaced with Mozgus' air, shaping a tie.

Furthermore.

Vikir had even initiated Oxbear's ability, "Thousand Muscles," which was fixed inside Lucifer.

Vikir's weight expanded to

almost 600 kilograms in a moment.

Mozgus peered down on Vikir's little size and attempted to push him with his solidarity, yet when he was unable to inspire him to move, he was incredibly confounded.

"It resembles pushing a rock! What the... ... !?

It's not shocking that Mozgus, regardless of how huge and solid he is, can't be just about as physical as Oxbear.

Vikir used Satan as he was.

A Baskervillian meat eater, a hiding ambusher.

It seemed to be a Baskerville outwardly, yet it was a Baskerville within.

Its secret teeth destroyed Mozgus' atmosphere to pieces.

It was anything but a known swordsmanship at any rate, so uncovering a piece wouldn't part with him.

Vikir drew a long sharp edge from his wrist and shaped six teeth.

He cut at Mozgus' head, neck, the two shoulders, and the two backs.

"...cough!?"

Mozgus attempted to cover the Good book and hold it up as a safeguard, however... ... was past the point of no return.

"In the event that you will involve it as a safeguard, you ought to have utilized it sooner."

Vikir sliced the rear of Mozgus' hand as he snatched the Good book.

A second.

...Roar!

The breath of Cerberus, the Dog of Misery, blasted fiercely from the tip of Satan.

The insatiable blazes of the oil field seared the rear of Mozgus' hand.

"Aaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

Mozgus moved on the ground, grasping the rear of his consuming hand.

The fire of Cerberus can't be stifled by water or sand.

Palak-palak-palak!

The torn pages of the heavenly book were consumed by blazes.

Vikir took a gander at the fallen Mozgus and sheathed his blade briefly. He had not come here to kill him.

But.

"You blasphemer! What divination are you rehearsing!"

Mozgus' battling soul was monstrous.

With an eruption of heavenly power, he got the water streaming down the sculpture's mouth and transformed it into sacred water.

Push, push, push!

Abruptly, the fire on the rear of Mozgus' hand was quenched. The fire on the rear of his hand was smothered.

In any case, even with the rushed stifling of the fire, the fight was at that point won.

Mozgus felt a sense of foreboding deep in his soul.

He gazed upward and saw that Vikir had previously stepped on the thick sacred book and was remaining on top of it.

"Stepping on a sacred book is sacrilege!"

"By that action, your tossing and it is more terrible to swing the sacred book."

"...."

Mozgus had to keep his mouth shut.

Vikir talked, heating up a dark air with the tip of his outstretched borer.

"Do you wish to attempt more?"

"...."

Mozgus ground his teeth at the haughtiness in his voice.

What number of different creatures on the planet were fit for pushing him like this, despite the fact that he had arrived at the upper positions of the Graduators?

Mozgus gripped his clench hands firmly together and gathered his emanation energetically.

Quack, quack, quack!

Mana turning at high velocity immediately encompassed his whole lower arm.

"Iyaaab!"

Mozgus accused of all his strength. With enough to shoot the rival before him with a solitary punch.

But.

Vikir didn't respond.

...Thud!

He only dismissed the blessed book starting from the earliest stage.

Boom!

Then, Vikir kicked the Good book up high.

The Book of scriptures turned and flew toward Mozgus.

Mozgus had recently turned his head to avoid it.

"...!"

He needed to uncertainty his eyes.

Vikir, the one who had been before him until the Book of scriptures was a flimsy straight line across his eyes, vanished from view in that short second when the Holy book stood upward and took up a huge region.

"Where?

I shouted. A nervous perspiration runs down my spine.

Out of nowhere, I hear a spooky murmur in my ear.

"... ... searching for me?"

In the small portion of a subsequent it took for the book to fly and turn, Vikir was out of Mozgus' view and clutching his back.

Mozgus twirled around in shock.

...BANG!

Vikir's atmosphere banged into Mozgus' whole body.

Swung like a sledge, Vikir's air broke Mozgus' full body covering like grains of sand, and, surprisingly, the chainmail he wore was broken.

Uh-oh! Thud!

Mozgus smashed through three sculptures behind him and tumbled to the ground.

The paladins on the subsequent floor porch could expand at the stunning outcome.

They had never seen Mozgus Quavadis, Inquisitor, Ecclesiastical overseer of Quavadis Family, and head of the Knights of the Probe, lose with such ease.

"Am I dreaming?"

"Ruler Mozgus has been crushed?"

"Absolutely not a chance, how is it that this could work out... ... !"

Yet, after a snapshot of disarray, they attracted their swords harmony like the tip top of the Quarvadis and jumped to the principal floor.

"Get that blasphemer!"

White qualitys rose from all over.

Vikir changed the gas veil that covered his face.

"A remarkable method for managing a wanderer sheep."

The paladins who had hopped from the subsequent floor presently encompassed the front.

In addition.

Gurgling.

Behind them, among the broke remaining parts of the sculptures, Mozgus hurled himself to his feet.

He had peeled off the entirety of his broke and contorted shield and was grasping an enormous shard of stone with two hands.

Blood was dribbling from his body, yet it didn't appear to irritate him by any stretch of the imagination.

"Provided that you need to see the end."

Vikir drew his enchanted sword, Lucifer, as long as he could.

A tacky fluid emanation, a demonstration of his high level graduator status, percolated and bubbled at the tip of the sharp edge.

Every one of the paladins, including Mozgus, strained at the mind-boggling force Vikir radiated, a dark spooky figure.

They couldn't shut their eyes, couldn't swallow their spit.

The smallest mistake would be enough for that dark apparition's teeth to tear at their throats and hearts.

"Where did this monster come from... ... .?

Mozgus lamented his imprudence and took a position.

One-on-one, a must-lose.

Numerous against one, cream.

The rival was an animal that couldn't be totally crushed, even with each of the paladins here, including himself.

Regularly, he would have made a stride back and officially pronounced a campaign... ... .

"There is a holy person here."

The stakes were excessively high for him to take any risks.

Vikir, Mozgus,

and the other paladins remained in a strained a showdown.

"...Stop!"

A voice broke everybody's focus.

A sort jabbed its head out from the patio on the third floor.

It was Holy person Dolores, and she was here.

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