Iron Blooded Hound

Chapter 96: A Moment of Truth

"Madame has made a mistake, and I will overthrow her with this ."

All Vikir's final words staggered Balak's heroes.

Not that they hadn't mulled over everything.

Honest youngsters, elderly folks, patients, mates, and wolves had been killed, and they had lost structures, food, and all the other things they expected to get by.

In any case, all things being equal, the fighters had misgivings of Vikir's words.

"Impossible. No valiant fighter has at any point had the option to do that."

"'Vikir. Regardless of whether you are the legend of the entire locale, that is a fantasy."

"Madame Eight-Legged is the god of these wilderness. She is the abhorrent one of the insidious spirits."

"The harm will ultimately be fixed. The main way is to neglect."

Interestingly, Balak's champions, who entrusted Vikir with whatever he said, shook their heads at his words.

For such daring men to say something like this gives one a thought of the degree of their apprehension about the Madame.

Then.

...tee!

Somebody put a hand on Vikir's shoulder.

It was Boss Aquila, the Fox of the Evening, gazing at Vikir with a pale composition.

She had lost quite a bit of her standard overpowering magnificence.

The person who had gone one-on-one with the Old One, the amazing Adonai, and sent him back to the residue.

However, Aquila, as well, had experienced many injuries all the while.

Endless bolt checks scratched his body, and, surprisingly, the noxious toxin of Madame Eight-Legged was a lot for even an Expert level hero to recuperate.

"Vikir. Youthful legend of all the wilderness and the sun simply rising, don't be influenced by the intensity existing apart from everything else. Where Madame is involved, intense watchfulness should be applied."

Aiyen, adjacent to him, concurred.

"The Eight Legged Madame is a fear to all clans, in addition to the Balak. She is a power of relentless causality and the quintessence of haziness. Her presence resembles a cataclysmic event, and regardless of whether we hold onto sensations of retribution... ... ."

Be that as it may, Aiyen didn't complete her sentence.

[laughs... ... ]

She saw a figure creeping through the rubble of the imploded fabricating.

Bakira. The wolf who had been brought into the world around the same time and time as Aiyen, and had been with him for his entire life.

The person who had raced to the town to tell them of Bikir's triumph before the Iliad among Bikir and Ahriman.

Briefly, Aiyen couldn't resist the opportunity to consider his final words to Bakira.

"Go to the town and advise them to plan to invite the champ of the Iliad."

Much to his dismay the outcomes of that basic task would be so horrendous.

[chuckle... ... giggle... ... ]

Bakira crept over, hauling his rear legs, and cleaned his wet nose at Aiyen's feet.

One of her right rear legs was not doing so well.

In addition to the fact that all were the bones broken, yet a dim toxin had saturated the marrow.

The justification for this was self-evident. What else might it at any point be nevertheless the aftereffect of opposing Madame Eight-Legged?

The toxic substance was all the while flooding as of now, and the circumstance was serious to the point that the leg must be cut off.

Aiyen checked out at Bakira in dismay.

Bikir talked momentarily.

"Will you actually say that retribution is useless?"

"...."

Aiyen didn't answer this time.

Aquila looked between her girl's face and Bakira's groaning legs and moaned profoundly.

"We'll talk later. For the time being, how about we deal with Bakira. Come on, deal with the others."

Regardless of her own human injuries, Aquila keeps an eye on the others first.

The tribal leader's words sent everybody scrambling once more.

They needed to safeguard survivors, watch out for the debilitated, and ensure they had food and asylum for the evening.

The night was bizarrely dim and blustery.

There was no moon, so the totally dark profundities were enlightened exclusively by an intermittent lightning strike.

A shadow passed like a phantom through the downpour that fell like lances.

It was Vikir.

Indeed, Vikir had left Balak without telling anybody.

The dog was currently en route to see Madame.

'... ... She's somebody I ought to have looked somewhere around once.'

Madame Eight-Legged was one of Vikir's actual purposes for coming to Depht in any case.

A super risky monster whose peril is as yet unclear to the Domain.

On the off chance that we can chase it down before it does, the advantages are unending.

Humming.

Vikir pondered internally as he paid attention to the beating of Lucifer in the veins of his wrist.

'Later on, when the Period of Obliteration shows up, animals like Madame will be generally normal, yet for the present... ... she is very novel.'

Additionally, the Madame was the person who had constrained Balak's fighters to leave their homes and move from one spot to another.

Balak's champions were in a troublesome position, keeping away from the Madame's continually extending sweep to fulfill her yearning, and keeping away from the Baskervilles, who were slicing through the wilderness to grow their realm's region.

"I can liberate them."

Madame Eightlegs and the Baskervilles. Vikir possessed the ability to bring these two oppressors of Balak under his influence.

It would be some help to Balak for all he had accomplished for her, and some help for their future.

Vikir likewise needed to test himself.

How much more grounded he had become during his two years in the Depht.

'This fight with Adonai has made me more grounded. Before long I will actually want to climb another step... ... .'

As he suspected this, Vikir cleared his path through the downpour.

Yet, the dog was before long compelled to stop.

A recognizable fragrance floated through the shade of downpour.

Not a day has gone by that he hasn't remembered it for the beyond two years.

Aiyen. She remained before Vikir, soaked from head to toe.

"I've been sitting tight for you."

"...."

"How long have you been remaining there?"

"...."

Aiyen didn't address Vikir's inquiries.

At long last, she opens her mouth.

"Wolves can't be subdued."

"...?"

"Regardless of the amount you tie them up, they break the rope and run."

Aiyen lifted her head and gazed directly at Vikir.

"Wolves can't be subdued, all things considered. You can make them come to you when they need to, without a rope."

She grinned at Vikir.

"You are not a dog. Vikir. You call yourself that, yet... ... no dog at any point acts like you."

"...."

Vikir peered down at Aiyen's legs.

Her right leg was enveloped by a tight heap of leaves and calfskin.

Once, when they had battled the Adonai, Aiyen had injured her leg while saving Vikir from a harmed bolt.

He actually limped from the consequence.

Vikir ended the quietness.

" ... ... You can't assist me with your body. Return to the town."

The air is so thick with water that the words come out dry.

In any case, Aiyen kept her mouth shut, as though she'd anticipated that much.

Then, she held out something to Vikir.

It was dried jerky and products of the soil enclosed by leaves.

Vikir grinned.

"It seems to be a conciliatory feast."

"Try not to kid about that."

Aiyen opened his eyes wildly and scowled at Vikir.

Then, at that point, he added a word.

"I guarantee."

The scene was frightful.

The Dog thought it was somewhat natural.

Once more, aiyen talked.

"Guarantee me you'll be back."

"...."

At the point when Vikir didn't reply, Aiyen talked once more, in a tone that seemed like he was pausing his breathing submerged.

"No."

She delayed the slightest bit, then talked once more.

"I don't. You don't need to vow to return."

A voice that creeps. A voice that hangs with uneasiness, anxiety, and harshness.

Aiyen investigates Vikir's eyes with a voice that sounds like she's going to upchuck blood.

"You don't need to return, simply stay alive... ... ."

Vikir is quiet briefly.

Then, excessively late, he talks.

"... ... obviously."

Then the breath he'd been holding emerged from Aiyen's mouth, all white.

An obscurity that gulped down him.

The expert stopped, watching the dog, or rather the wolf, leave.

The wolf goes through the day break once more.

Dissimilar to last time, there was one point she was unable to make to Bikir.

"You don't need to return, simply stay alive... ... .

Ladies have an approach to setting troublesome expectations.

Without precedent for his entire life, since he was conceived two times, he had lied.

He couldn't say whether he could keep this commitment or not.

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