Chapter 361 – Voluntary Escort (3)

Episode 361: Voluntary Escort (3)

[Our masters are Don Quixote Passamonte, Usher Madeline, and Hobbes Leviathan!]

[Their real names are Cimeries! Andrealpus! Flauros!]

[Well, anything! I’ll tell you anything! Please stop! What more do you want to know!?]

Pedro, Isolde, and Thomas shouted at the top of their lungs.

Their desperate cries sent chills down the spine of anyone who heard them, but Vikir’s face remained unmoved.

“I don’t want to know anything. I’m just having fun.”

With his grotesquely twisted iron, Vikir slowly carved away at the bodies of Pedro, Isolde, and Thomas.

And with each stroke, they wailed miserably.

[Aaahhhhhh! Just kill me!]

Vikir’s torture techniques, which could make even demons cry and beg, were an advanced artifact learned in the Age of Destruction.





Naturally, it was far beyond the reach of any modern-day Isabella, Banshee, Mozgus, or Lovebad.

Even Mozgus, the Inquisitor, was speechless at Vikir’s torture methods and skills.

Soon, Vikir washed away the black blood that had splattered on his face from the foam that crashed into the player.


The disgusting flavor of the demon’s blood washed away in the cool waters.

‘That was good.’

He said it, but of course he wasn’t just torturing himself to relieve stress.

Pedro, Isolde, and Tomas are the entourage of the Ten, and naturally have a lot of information to share.

And Vikir had gotten most of what he wanted from them through his brutal torture techniques.

The information the demons spilled will surely prove valuable in the future.


Vikir tossed the three mangled minions onto the deck.

“Salt them and put them in the fishbowl. I don’t want them to die, so feed them every week or so. A few drops of human blood mixed with liquor will suffice.”

Clear orders.

But none of the men on the deck complained.





Isabella, Banshee, Mozgus, and Lovebad were in a cold sweat.

A prisoner destined for Nouvelle Vague had escaped, in the midst of a convoy for transfer.

It was an event that would turn the entire Empire upside down.

Even a demon showed up in the middle of it, so the aftermath is hard to imagine.

Isabella, Banshee, Mozgus, and Lovebad are the main characters in this story, and their feelings are understandably mixed.

Isabella asked in a small voice.

“……Where are we going now?”

Now that Night Hound has been freed from his restraints and cage, the answer is obvious.

It would flee to a faraway place where it could never be caught.

……The problem was how to get away.

On land, that would be one thing, but here, on the sea, he would need a ship to get away.

If Vikir, who is clearly the Swordmaster, is determined to take the ship, the situation becomes bleak.

No matter how much she thought about it, she was no match for the sunlike aura Vikir had displayed earlier when he subdued the three demons.

Even if he were outnumbered, it would be pointless; everyone on board would have to risk their lives.

……But Vikir’s answer was unexpected.

“That’s not a question for a convoy leader.”


“To prison, of course. To the Nouvelle Vague.”

With that, Vikir turned and walked nonchalantly back to the cage he had just broken through and sat down.

Isabella, Banshee, Mozgus, and Lovebad couldn’t help but gape at the sight of him.

Isabella asked, puzzled.

“Didn’t you mean to steal this ship and run away?”

“Of course not, we have no intention of causing trouble for others.”

Vikir’s answer was both common sense and nonsensical.

The situation was taking an unexpected turn.

* * *

Vikir was true to his word.

He waited until Isabella, Banshee, Mozgus, and Lovebad’s mana was fully restored, and then he let the ship reach its destination.

And so the ship made it through the raging storm and waves to the coordinates they had initially set out for.


Maelström. A giant whirlpool, called the “navel of the sea,” was gaping open.

At the tip of the bow, you can see the color of the sea turning black.

This is because the water is deepening rapidly.


The ship finally stopped after setting dozens of anchors on the surrounding reefs.

“It’s a whirlpool that only opens at midnight. This is the middle gate to Nouvelle Vague.”

Vikir nodded at Isabella’s words.

The Nouvelle Vague, the Great Prison of the Deep, is a long way down this vortex.

Naturally, prisoners are thrown here alone to sink.

During the 10,000-meter descent to the depths of the Nouvelle Vague, most prisoners are crushed to death by the pressure and claustrophobia, and only a few survive to be imprisoned in the Nouvelle Vague.

Vikir obediently stepped into the coffin attached to the tip of the boat.

Iron Maiden.

A human-shaped coffin embossed with the face of a gentle, smiling woman with closed eyes.

This fearsome coffin is riddled with nails made of an orthoharcone alloy that, when the prisoner is placed inside and the lid is closed, punctures the prisoner’s body with numerous holes.

The nails are placed to avoid the prisoner’s vital organs and are designed to maximize pain.

The blood that fills the coffin then flows out through the cracks in the maiden’s eyes, creating the illusion that the maiden is weeping tears of blood over the prisoner’s death.


Vikir walked into the coffin, wearing the new BDISSEM handcuffs, shackles, and chains.

He turned to Isabella, Banshee, Mozgus, and Lovebad, who were standing outside.

“Would you mind closing the door?”

His calm tone was out of character and extremely out of place.

Isabella, Banshee, Mozgus, and Lovebad had to shudder at the chills that ran down their spines, even though they had been in charge of countless convoys.


Professor Banshee, the Morgue’s escort, stepped forward.



Banshee flinched slightly at the nonchalant tone of Vikir’s voice.

But then he gathered his courage and spoke up.

“I am a professor at Colosseo Academy, and you are a student at Colosseo Academy.”


“No matter what your current situation is, no matter what your identity is, you are my student.”

Banshee took a deep breath.

He took a deep breath and spoke in the same snarky, stubborn tone he had come to expect from the Colosseo Academy.

“I speak not as an escort, not as an official, but as your teacher.”

The words that came out of the Banshee’s mouth surprised everyone. Even Vikir.

“Run away.”

Isabella, Mozgus, and Lovebad look back at Banshee in surprise.

But Banshee’s demeanor didn’t change.

“Honestly, I’m still not good at judging good and evil. I’m not sure what the demon or the Hell Tree is. I never imagined that I would experience such confusion at an age when everything is slowly becoming clear, but…… Still, I always saw you during my time at the Academy. You are not a villain. That much is certain.”


“The Nouvelle Vague is a living hell. Those who enter never return, and I cannot send a good and brave young man to such a place.”

At that moment, someone stepped forward, glaring at Banshee.

It was Mozgus, a member of the Quovadis family convoy.

“I, too, have heard the whole story from St. Dolores.”


“To be honest, I didn’t fully believe her when she told me that you were a demon hunter. As a cleric, I couldn’t believe that so many demons were integrated into the human world. But now that I’ve seen the realities of the demons that have slipped right under my nose, I see it all clearly. You must live, and I don’t know why I’ve only realized this now!”

Mozgus slammed his fist down on his head in self-pity.

Beside him, Lovebad, a member of the Bourgeois family convoy, stepped forward.

“Do you remember my second cousin? Merlini Lovegood? She fell in love with you in the University Leagues, and now she’s stoping to eat and drink after learning that you’re Night Hound and are to be imprisoned in Nouvelle Vague.”


“As soon as I return, I will show the demons as evidence and request a retrial. So please run away from here. And although it may be difficult while on the run, I would really appreciate it if you could meet my brother secretly. I will take responsibility and erase your tracks. If it’s money, don’t worry.”

Banshee of Morg, Mozgus of Quovdis, and Lovebad of Bourgeois have made their shocking declarations of defection.

All that remained was Isabella of Baskerville.


After a moment of silence, she looked up.

The dreary gaze was spreading red in the air.

“……Truth be told. I’ve been assigned one other task in addition to the Imperial convoy.”

Isabella’s next words were a surprise.

“The orders came from the Baskervilles in great secrecy. To kill everyone on the convoy and break you out.”

At that, Banshee, Mozgus, and Lovebad swallowed hard.

They had wondered why a magnate of the Seven Counts’ rank had bothered to come to them, especially one who had retired from the Imperial Prison Service, but now they knew.

Isabella even had a dozen of the Doberman Knights’ core strength disguised as lowly sailors waiting in the dock.

“I have instructions from my lord to break you out, Vikir, even if it means sinking the ship.”

In other words, the Baskervilles were going to keep Vikir, even if it meant turning the other six families of the empire and the imperial family against them.

Banshee, Mozgus, and Lovebad muttered in disbelief.

“I almost got killed by accident.”

“For some reason, there was a reason I wasn’t too embarrassed by the appearance of the demons.”

“Damn, it’s Baskerville again, those crazy people.”

Vikir said, sounding surprised as well.

“Didn’t you tell me before that it would be better to commit suicide?”

“That was in the public eye. You’re not really a great person to commit suicide in the first place.”

Everyone, including Isabella, was urging Vikir to run away.

The gale had driven all the sailors back to the dock.

The minions are all salted and locked in the hold, so the only ones who can see the last of Vikir are the four escorts here.

If all four of them are correct in their testimony, Vikir will be able to return to the surface without being trapped in Nouvelle Vague.


“I refuse.”

Vikir dismissed the invitation to run away so casually, so matter-of-factly.

Banshee asked in disbelief.

“Do you not know what the Nouvelle Vague is like? To be trapped there is worse than death!”

Isabella, Mozgus, and Lovebad shake their heads in disbelief.

But Vikir’s voice was still unmoved.

“I could have done anything to escape. What do you think I was tried for?”

Nouvelle Vague. And Vikir, who silently accepted more than 3,000 life sentences.

He smiles dryly at his escort, who seem unable to comprehend the situation.

“I am a person who has been waiting to go to Nouvelle Vague for the past 19 years.”