The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound

Chapter 392: The Worst Torture (3)

“Let’s resolve this through conversation.”

Vikir. No, it was Garam who spoke.

Upon hearing those words, everyone present fell silent.

From the guards who were setting up the perimeter to even Sakkuth who was the culprit, and even Kirko who was captured as a hostage.

Silence enveloped the entire labor camp.

The first to speak up was Sakkuth.

“What is this? Are you out of your mind, stupid Garam?”

Vikir, a seasoned warrior who had lived through the era of destruction, was adept at hiding his mana and presence.

It was to the extent that even Hugo, the lord of Baskerville, would not have noticed anything.

Of course, Sakkuth didn’t recognize Garam’s true identity.

Vikir shrugged his shoulders as Garam.

“I’m perfectly sober.”

“No, you were supposed to be dead…”

“At that time, I almost was.”

When a person escapes from a life-threatening situation, they often undergo significant internal growth.

Sakkuth keenly observed the change in Garam’s demeanor, which was different from before.

“You look the same, but it feels like you’ve become a different person. Your gaze has become somewhat sharper.”

“If you know, then release my comrade. Let’s talk among us.”

“Tsk tsk tsk… Spare me your nonsense. You think changing your gaze is impressive enough to match wits with me?”

Sakkuth sniffed dismissively, as if there was no need to mix words with someone like Garam.

But Garam remained in place, not backing down.

From behind, the shouts of some guards could be heard.

“Hey! Lower-ranked guard! Where do you think you’re going!”

“You can’t just leave like that!? You’ll only increase the hostages!”

“Tsk tsk, they’re stupid. They need to know their place.”

It was as he said. Sakkuth cleared his throat and spat out phlegm into his mouth.

*Ptoo!*

The phlegm, emitting a foul stench, flew towards Garam’s face like a slap.

A direct hit would have been a surefire attack, akin to spreading a disease.

But?

Whoosh-

With just a slight tilt of his head, Garam effortlessly dodged Sakkuth’s attack.

Despite it being at a speed that a lower-ranked guard couldn’t possibly react to.

“…!?”

Sakkuth’s expression changed.

Seizing the opportunity, Garam whispered so softly that the guards couldn’t hear.

“There’s quite an interesting topic to discuss. Aren’t you curious?”

“Tsk tsk tsk! Ridiculous.”

Sakkuth chuckled as if in disbelief.

“What on earth do you want to talk about? You and me.”

He took the bait.

The words uttered by guards were never to be trusted in the first place.

That was a fact Sakkuth, who was orchestrating the hostage situation, knew best.

Yet here was a low-ranking guard, strutting boldly on his own, while even those high-ranking guards were at a loss.

What conversation could such a peon possibly attempt?

Sakkuth seemed slightly intrigued by this point.

But spontaneous curiosity, as easily as it arose, vanished just as easily.

“Ah, let’s drop it. There’s no way a conversation between you and me could be worthwhile…”

“It’s about your ‘Queen’.”

“…!”

“It’s about the one who sent you here.”

However, Sakkuth’s expression quickly hardened.

In the already tense atmosphere, a keyword had been dropped.

The reason Sakkuth was so incensed was because of being ‘rejected by the queen’.

Before long, a palpable malice emanated from Sakkuth’s whole being.

It was the kind of presence that suffocated just by being nearby, weighing down on one’s entire body.

“…You’ve got some nerve, kid. Suddenly feeling bold, huh?”

Sakkuth began to show enthusiasm for the conversation.

His intensity was so strong that all the guards setting up the perimeter from afar took a step back.

But Garam remained nonchalant. It was something unimaginable from his previous self.

With a firm grip on Kirko’s neck, Sakkuth spoke as if chewing out his words.

“Come to think of it, you had a crush on this woman, didn’t you? Fine, let’s entertain this conversation that supposedly piques my interest. If it’s a trap, I’ll snap this woman’s neck and devour her intestines…”

“Hold on. There’s something to do before we talk.”

Garam didn’t just succumb to Sakkuth’s presence, but raised his palm to interrupt him.

“This conversation holds many important details. It’s confidential.”

“What secrets could a mere low-ranking guard like you have?”

“You might find out if you listen. My rank is not the issue here.”

“Tsk tsk tsk… You’ve been quite audacious from the start. So, what’s this thing we need to do before we talk?”

The momentum of the conversation had slightly shifted in Vikir direction.

Garam spoke casually.

“Hand Kirko over to us.”

“Are you insane? You’re coming to the one orchestrating the hostage situation, asking to exchange hostages and talk?”

“Ensure the hostages remain in custody.”

“What nonsense have you been spouting? Who said anything about someone else becoming the hostage?”

“Me.”

Garam was insisting on sending Kirko back instead of using himself as a hostage.

“If not, the conversation won’t happen.”

“…Do you even realize your position right now?”

“I do. I’m a lowly guard, barely worth mentioning. I’m making unreasonable demands to someone like you, a level 8 prisoner.”

“I could make you a hostage too.”

“Then the conversation definitely won’t happen. Shame. It’s something you would’ve found quite pleasing to hear.”

Sakkuth became increasingly perplexed by Garam’s calm demeanor, unchanged expression.

“What kind of audacity is this, really?”

“As you know, I’m not usually the bold type. I don’t have the courage to boast at the risk of my life.”

“…”

“If I’m saying this confidently, doesn’t it pique your curiosity? What I’m basing my confidence on?”

Garam continued speaking, and Sakkuth seemed to somewhat agree with his words.

However…

“Fine. Then show me evidence that you’re someone worth being my hostage before we exchange hostages.”

“Do I need proof to become a hostage?”

“Of course.”

Sakkuth, with an angry expression, lifted Kirko’s neck, trembling in his grip.

“Despite being at death’s door, she’s not begging for her life. She’s courageous and resilient.”

“…”

“But you, are you not just a pathetic fool, Garam? The moment you’re taken hostage, you might wet yourself and suffer a heart attack, right? Then the value of the hostage disappears.”

“You’re forcing it.”

“You’re no different.”

“So, how do you propose I prove it?”

When Garam asked, Sakkuth tilted his head to one side.

Then, he reached out towards the nearest senior-ranked guard.

“Hey, you. Give me a cigarette.”

“…?”

Luckily, the lieutenant had a cigarette in his mouth.

He took it out of his pocket and tossed it to Sakkuth.

*Whoosh-*

Sakkuth took a drag from the cigarette and exhaled. At the same time, the red blood flowing from his torn lips mingled with the cigarette, drenching it.

The smell of iron and bitterness emanated from the blood, mixed with the cigarette.

Sakkuth, holding the cigarette in his mouth, extended it towards Garam.

“Smoke this. Then I’ll acknowledge your audacity.”

All the guards fell silent at his words.

Even Kirko, with her eyes tightly shut, pondered,

‘…He wouldn’t put that in his mouth.’

Sakkuth’s blood was a Class 1 hazardous substance.

A single drop required disinfection with alcohol, fire, and explosives within dozens of meters to contain the terrible toxin.

Who in their right mind would touch that cigarette, let alone put it in their mouth?

It goes without saying that smoking it would be even more unthinkable.

Captain Bastille, who stood at the forefront of the perimeter, also grimaced.

‘For a low-ranking guard, he managed to stall for time quite well… But is this the end?’

He planned to slowly advance his rear subordinates to ambush Sakkuth.

But time was running out.

Sakkuth, too, remained vigilant, without a hint of relaxation.

…Then, something happened that astonished everyone.

Swish-

Garam casually accepted the cigarette Sakkuth offered.

Without anyone stopping him, he put the cigarette in his mouth.

“Light it.”

And he even casually demanded the lighter.

Sakkuth stood still with a somewhat blank expression.

Did he not know, what he put it in his mouth?

But Garam simply nodded as if it were nothing.

“You should provide the lighter, too.”

At his words, Sakkuth turned his head towards the guards with a dazed expression.

Eventually…

Thunk-

A match thrown hastily by a lieutenant-class guard fell into Sakkuth’s hand.

Sizzle- Whoosh!

Despite his bewilderment, Sakkuth lit the match and held it to the cigarette in Garam’s mouth.

The sight of a notorious convict, confined to Level 8, bowing to a low-ranking guard less than half his height to light his cigarette was truly bizarre.

*Whoosh-*

After taking a deep drag from the cigarette, Garam exhaled a long plume of smoke.

“…”

Amidst the stunned expressions of onlookers with their mouths agape, Sakkuth, with a serious expression, asked, “How come?”

“I mean, there’s actually no plague toxin in your blood,” Garam confessed.

It was truly a shocking revelation. All the guards who had been watching suddenly realized they had been deceived by Sakkuth for the past two years. In fact, there was no plague in Sakkuth’s body. He had mimicked the appearance of a severe skin disease using powders of certain fungi and mushrooms easily obtainable even within Nouvellebag, along with detoxifying agents injected by doctors, to create the illusion of a plague and impress others. His reputation as the creator of the deadly plague known as the ‘Red Death’ had bolstered his facade.

But all of this turned out to be nothing more than a facade filled with twists.

Now, the only thing left was how Garam, a mere low-ranking guard, knew about this fact in advance.

“What the fuck did I just hear?”

“B-But how come he wasn’t deceived by the facade? Even the doctors couldn’t figure it out.”

“True? Is there a way to distinguish?”

Sakkuth, with his hands gripped on Kirko’s neck along with all the other guards focused on how Garam had seen through Sakkuth’s facade.

…And then, Garam spoke, opening his mouth with a slow and dry tone to address everyone’s doubts.

“I just didn’t know?”