The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound

Chapter 336: Mating Room (4)

Madam Sinclaire.

A young Sinclaire, with long flowing locks cascading down to her waist like a galaxy. The little one looked up at the towering man before her and asked, clutching onto her teddy bear.

“Father, why must I leave?”

The little one’s question, while hugging her teddy bear, went unanswered by the tall man. Instead, it was the aged butler standing beside him who replied.

“When you come of age, everything will belong to you, Miss.”

With those words, the little one had to leave the household. After cutting her flowing locks short, she glanced back at the rear entrance of the mansion. Everything remained as it was. Nothing would change even if she left.

Then, something caught the little one’s eye up high in the mansion’s tall building—a small shadow swaying. Was it a hallucination? Or just a shadow? A curtain fluttering in the wind? No. It was the tall man. He stood there, perhaps to watch her final departure.

The little one thought so.

‘Why did you abandon me?’

‘Did you even love me?’

‘Is that why you left me?’

‘When I come back…’

‘…Then, can you love me again?’

Countless questions trailed behind, and the footprints left in the snow occasionally answered with tails of their own.

And at the end of those questions, there wasn’t a comforting answer.

[It wouldn’t hurt to weed out unnecessary connections now. All the plays are over from this moment on.]

The face of the tall man, now matured, was vastly different from the memories of youth.

His height obscured some details, but amidst the ruggedness, there was a glimpse of gentleness that couldn’t be ignored.

The sinisterly contorted expression, the bloodshot eyes, and even the ferocious demeanor resembling a demon—all of it.

The matured little one reverted to the child of that time. To the child who left the mansion on a snowy day.

“I understand.”

“I know it was because you loved me.”

“In reality, you didn’t abandon me.”

“I’ve come back.”

“Please love me again.”

The answer the little one had prepared for so long could ultimately be summed up in one.

“…I missed you.”

But in the end, the little one couldn’t bring herself to say those words.

“Demons must die.”

A hunting dog emerged from the depths of the nightmare, tearing through the fabric of dreams with its vicious fangs and gaping maw, shredding everything before the little one’s eyes.

“It’s over, ‘worthless one.’”

That was the tall man’s final act.

The little one lost her only family member.

And as a result, the little one’s existence in the world was completely lost.

Alone in the world with no ties whatsoever.

Now, who would testify to the little one’s existence?

What does one do when they’ve lost their origin, to reveal themselves to the world?

Esse, Non Videri. ‘To be, rather to seem.’

From that day forth, the little one became someone who existed but remained unseen.

The leader of Bourgeois Clan.

The little one resolved firmly.

She must confront night hound again.

* * *

“Ah…!?”

Sinclaire bolted upright.

It felt like she had just had a terrifying nightmare, but she couldn’t quite recall it. Her mind and body felt foggy.

And then, Sinclaire realized she was completely naked.

“Ahhh!?”

She hastily covered herself with her hands, moving them up and down in panic.

And from behind her neck, a nonchalant voice spoke.

“You’re awake.”

Sinclaire quickly turned her head.

And there, in an undressed state, Vikir was embracing Sinclaire from behind.

“B-b-brother? W-what’s happening…?”

“Maintaining body temperature.”

Still, his voice lacked any inflection.

Sinclaire could finally take in her surroundings.

Surrounded by the top layer of a dugout so deep that it hadn’t been touched by the rain. The rough, dry sawdust piled around them made it not too cold.

The moisture that had clung to their bodies had vanished.

Vikir had spread Cerberus’ fur in the center of the spacious dugout, lighting a very small fire. The firewood didn’t spread throughout the sawdust because Cerberus’ fur was good at resisting fire.

Vikir had created a small ember below the Cerberus’ fur and was slowly tossing in pieces of dry sawdust.

He had also made sure to lay damp sawdust around to prevent any sparks from flying out.

“Ah…”

Sinclaire finally realized why she was able to regain her senses. It was the result of Vikir’s best efforts. In the cold and dark world, even a single spark of fire from a matchstick could make it significantly brighter and warmer. The solid warmth of Vikir’s body and his ticklish breath felt the same way from behind.

“Did you have a nightmare?”

The voice, usually stiff and dry, now felt remarkably soft and sweet, for some reason.

Upon hearing Vikir’s words, Sinclaire finally burst into tears.

“…Night Hound… killed… Father.”

As time passed, the contents of the nightmare became clearer and clearer in her memory. No, she couldn’t forget it since it was something she had actually experienced in the past.

“…When I woke up from sleep, Father was there… He had transformed into a demon… He used strange powers… I wanted to stop him, but I couldn’t… So Night Hound killed Father… Why, why did this happen? Why.”

Sinclaire, still groggy from just waking up, rambled on.

But Vikir understood everything she wanted to say.

‘I don’t know how to explain this.’

It’s always awkward to deal with family members

Are they already dead? Just shells of demons?

Hearing such words would only confuse Sinclaire even more.

‘Maybe hating and resenting me would be better.’ Vikir thought.

That might be a more motivating force for her to live on.

After all, revenge is a good motivation for humans to keep living.

Without a word, Vikir tightened his arms around Sinclaire.

Skin against skin, friction generating warmth.

Sinclaire shivered and cried.

In a moment…

Suddenly-

She turned her head to the side.

Sinclaire’s lips touched Vikir’s neck.

Vikir quickly turned his head to avoid it.

But Sinclaire continued to bring her tongue to Vikir’s neck.

It was slowly moving upward.

“…Oh no! Is it already time?”

For a moment, he had been distracted and hadn’t paid attention to the status window.

Vikir quickly opened the status window visible in one corner of his vision.

By the way, the air coming through my nose had started to smell sweet at some point.

A blue mist. It seeped into every corner of the dugout.

While I focused on the fire and infused mana into Sinclaire’s body, time had already passed like this.

Vikir began to hold his breath.

“Being in this mist shouldn’t be harmful, but…”

There weren’t any harmful substances in the mist.

The only problem was that it overly stimulates the various bodily functions.

It was a mating mist designed to promote mating between males and females.

*Ding!*

[Human 2 (♀) is ready for mating.]

[Human 1 (♂) is not ready for mating yet.]

An alert tone treating humans thoroughly as livestock.

Sinclaire turned completely towards Vikir.

Then, exhaling a breath that was almost burning hot, she said, “Brother, I have no family now. I am alone in this world.”

“…”

“So, I want to create a family. If it’s you, brother… if it’s you.”

The world is cold and dark. It’s inherently lonely and solitary.

But just like the situation inside this dugout, even if it’s warmth equivalent to a single matchstick, it can provide the strength and warmth to live in this world.

Sinclaire couldn’t endure it anymore and buried her face into Vikir’s chest as if to say she couldn’t take it any longer.

But even in that moment, Vikir’s gaze remained cold.

“…”

Naturally, Sinclaire and Vikir couldn’t become a family.

After all, it was Vikir himself who had destroyed Sinclaire’s only family.

“…I must admit.”

When facing Bartolomeo, he didn’t risk his life like a brave warrior.

He avoided adventures as much as possible and found the safest route to kill Belial.

There is no regret. Even if given the chance to go back, I would make the same choice. However, the issue of guilt was something entirely different.

To kill Sinclaire’s only family and then become her only family was the epitome of betrayal upon betrayal.

Vikir lifted Sinclaire’s shoulders deeply buried in his embrace.

As she lifted her head, Sinclaire’s eyes, already hazy, met his.

“Listen, Sinclaire. I-I am…”

Before Vikir could finish his sentence,

*Ding!*

[Entering the mating environment]

[Third attempt begins]

Time limits had all run out.

As Vikir was about to speak, his teeth clenched, a tremor began to show.

…Thud!

The entire breeding ground shook violently.

External intervention. Forced mating in a factory-like setting.

The same monstrous hands that had previously forced giant demon creatures to mate had now entered the breeding ground to do the same thing once again.