Iron Blooded Hound

Chapter 84: Efforts to Heal the Afflicted

The Night Hound has returned.

When Vikir returned to Balak's town, the Red Passing had spread across the grounds.

Balak constructed a house on the water and fabricated a dam to trap the water, so the harm was little, however the states of other adjoining clans were really hopeless.

Ahun was quick to come out when he heard that Vikir had returned.

He approached him, his face loaded with tears, and when he saw Vikir, he hurled himself entirely into his arms.

"You're back!"

Ahun had been noticeably shaken for a really long time.

He had scarcely eaten or dozed since his main sister, Ahul, had become sick with the Red Demise, and all he had done was care for her.

Ahun grasped Vikir's hand through thick tears.

"Much thanks to you for returning. You are a devoted kid. It's alright on the off chance that you didn't get the fix, simply the way that you returned this way..."

They appeared to misconstrue in light of the fact that Vikir had come with nothing.

Yet, Vikir had certainly carried it with him.

A marvel that would fix every one of his companions in the depths.

"Follow me."

"...?"

Vikir pulled a stunned Ahun along, going directly toward his sleeping shelter.

Ahun's sleeping shelter, right close to the entry to the town, where Ahul lay groaning.

She was quick to be struck by the red demise, so she was in the most horrendously terrible condition.

Her face is currently split, however she's perfect, liberated from soil and foul scents, because of Ahun's great consideration.

Without even batting an eye, Vikir took out the vial of Holy person's Tears.

...Pow!

The Holy person's Tears from his pocket hadn't even opened the vial yet, yet it actually applied areas of strength for a power.

Shockingly, the light exuding from the holy person's tears was sufficient to drive the red demise out of Ahul's body.

The red spots were vanishing.

The illness that had been torturing him for such a long time had disappeared no sweat.

"...! ...! ...! ...!"

Ahun's eyes enlarged to tears at the marvelous scene.

The way that he was frozen completely still, unfit to try and shout, parted with him.

Ahun stroked Ahul's face with a shudder hand.

His face was bended and perspiring, however Ahul was snoozing, looking more loose than he had in quite a while.

There was nothing left but to groan and perspire in a vivid scratch.

"...Vikir!"

Ahul called out enthusiastically, and afterward a couple of additional times with hardly a pause in between.

" Vikir! Vikir! Vikir! Vikir!"

The tone was cautious however respectful, similar to a sincere cleric saying the name of God in petition, with limitless trust, fondness, and happiness.

What's more, it was something very similar with Ahun's nearest relates.

Companions who needed to observe the aggravation and distress of a companion they were sufficiently close to entrust with their lives.

They, as well, couldn't resist the opportunity to recite his name overwhelmingly despite his phenomenal capacity to impact away the entirety of their uneasiness, sharpness, powerlessness, and disappointment with a solitary blow.

"Vikir! Vikir! Vikir! Vikir! Vikir!"

The strong Balak champions stepped their feet and cheered so uproariously that the drifting house almost fell.

Yet, Vikir tried to avoid panicking amidst all the energy.

He had quite recently relieved one patient. There was still far to go.

Bikir went to Ahun and the other Balak fighters.

"What number of patients do you have?"

"Around thirty, including Ahul."

Vikir gestured at that.

It was as yet a generally modest number, one that could be smothered early.

Yet, they shouldn't let their gatekeeper down.

Vikir was intending to not just annihilate the whole arrangement of the harmful expert Leviathan, yet in addition assimilate all the gradually expanding influences of it.

"And different clans?"

Vikir asked, and Ahun answered with a dull look.

"It's sad. Some of them have been essentially cleared out, different clans that didn't assemble drifting houses. Yet, the people who accepted your recommendation and assembled drifting houses have experienced less."

"What number of patients are there, precisely?"

"I don't have any idea, however there are a ton of them, similar to the crowds of bison in those bumpy fields."

Some place during the many thousands.

Vikir settled on a choice.

"Gather together every one of the patients from different clans."

"Huh? Different clans? Yet, there are such countless fixes?"

"Simply relax, there are bounty. How about we make a move to show different clans some regard."

Hearing Vikir's words, Ahun and the other youthful heroes' appearances illuminated.

For what reason would it be advisable for them to think often about different clans?

It is to be expected for clans to be connected by fellowship or blood, regardless of whether they are outsiders in a far off land.

They frequently had disagreements regarding marriage and hunting, however they had a past filled with meeting up in the midst of emergency.

After hearing Vikir's words, Balak's champions flew out of the town to get out the good word.

Meanwhile.

"...."

Vikir's eyes sparkled as he investigated the tears of the holy person.

"We can utilize this chance to come down on the Baskervilles."

Vikir wanted to make the most of this chance to join the adversary and the savage powers of the Dark Mountains.

Baskerville is an Ironblade whose essential mission is to investigate and obliterate the Foe and the Dark Mountains.

Baskerville's most prominent adversaries are not the other six Places of the Realm.

It's their foes, the locals of the Dark Mountains.

The champion group Balak, the shaman tribe Rokoko, and numerous other local groups are Baskerville's most dreaded enemies.

They penetrated the sword like cutting edges of the woods with their uncovered skin and stepped shoeless on the woodland floor, which appeared to be specked with nails and tacks.

Huge number of speeds away, bolts hit willow leaves, and tomahawks and blades cut incredible monsters down the middle.

Such is the day to day existence of the locals of Red and Dark Mountain.

On the off chance that Vikir could get them on his side by taking care of them, he could take on the whole Baskerville family without any assistance.

Also, assuming the locals had the option to stem the plague early and develop further, they would normally have the option to come down on the Baskervilles and the Realm.

"For that to occur, we really want to stay amicable with them."

Vikir is presently a legend of Balak.

However, presently he's going to turn into the legend of the whole Wilderness clan.

The wrongdoings of Leviathan, the Radical, were helping Vikir out.

"We're using up all available time. We should hustle before the loss of life rises."

All utilizing the light from the holy person's tears, Vikir restored Balak's patients.

Presently all that remained was to purge the water source.

The tears of the holy person were

to be sprinkled on the nipples of the wilderness, on the streams that moved from the most noteworthy places and spread to every one of the swamps.

Vikir moved rapidly.

He'd been residing here for a considerable length of time and as of now knew where the water sources were.

Furthermore, with him came the whole clan.

Indeed, even a portion of Balak's more surprising foes bowed their heads as they entered, including the shamanic Extravagant, infamous for their human flesh consumption, and the berserker Renaissance, whose whole clan could take on a whole organization of the Domain with a solitary hatchet.

At the point when the clan leader Aquila drove them all to the wellspring of the water.

"Every one of you might drink of this water."

Bikir sprinkled the tears of a holy person into the waterway.

Out of nowhere, a splendid light radiated from the whole immense waterway.

It was a lovely sight, as though the Smooth Way in the night sky had plummeted to earth and was streaming.

Hypnotized by this puzzling light, the locals unexpectedly gathered up water from the stream with their hands.

What's more, a wonder occurred.

The "red demise" started to bite the dust.

"Oh-oh-oh-oh!"

The whole wilderness emitted in a yell that appeared to divert.

Aquila, the Balak tribal leader, shouted out in energy.

"Vikir, I should select you shaman of our clan!"

The Night Fox adulates the Night Hound.

The wide range of various clans assembled here holler to Vikir, each in their own language and signals.

They all have various approaches to articulating their thoughts, yet they all need to communicate exactly the same thing.

The statements of adoration, regard, and appreciation were inspiring.

The plague patients, whether they were relatives, companions, or patients themselves, dropped to one knee before Vikir and offered him the highest level of appreciation.

This implies that everybody in the wilderness is appreciative to Vikir.

Indeed, even the slanted elderly people men who had been seen ominously inside the Balak bowed profoundly to Bikir.

It was genuine appreciation for saving their children, girls, children in-regulation, girls in-regulation, grandsons, and granddaughters.

Meanwhile.

"...?"

Vikir was searching for somebody as well as treating incalculable patients.

A face he'd heard had the Red Passing, yet couldn't sort out why he was unable to see.

Vikir searched for quite a while, however the face he was searching for was mysteriously gone among the haze of patients.

All of a sudden.

Ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta.

The sound of strides.

Vikir knew from the sound alone that the individual he was searching for had shown up.

He turned his head.

Puck.

Something surges at me dangerously fast, ramming into me.

Aiyen. She surges forward and folds her arms over Vikir's body.

Thud!

Muscles grip, bones shout.

I needed to raise the mana on the grounds that I figured I could crush my spirit the second I moved.

Then, Vikir gets Aiyen's cheek as she covers her face in his chest.

"I thought you had the Red Demise?"

However, Aiyen's face, gazing up at Vikir, was flawless.

There was no redness in her body, no problem at all. Her appearance was typical.

The main thing that annoyed him was the energetic blush across her face.

Just to err on the side of caution, Bikir sprinkled some heavenly water all over, yet the flush didn't die down.

She peers down at herself with a confounded articulation.

"What is ... ... ?"

She scratched her head in disarray.

He turned upward into Vikir's face once more and said.

"You're feeling quite a bit improved, right?"