Chapter 416 – End game (8)

Episode 416 End game (8)

All of Nouvelle Vague’s All-Stars have gathered in the Level Ten sector.

Warden Orca.

And three of the five wardens, D’Ordume, Souare, and Flubber, except for BDISSEM and Black Tongue, who were eliminated by Vikir.

Among them, Orca is the one who stands alone.

Orca’s eyes are fixed on Vikir.

Vikir, in turn, watches Orca.



When a war of nerves between two veterans is about to break out.

“How dare you ignore me!”

A tearing yell pierced the air.

Professor Sady. Her bloodshot gaze flashed toward Orca.


The whip that was under Orca’s military boots broke the ground and was pulled out.

It bared its fangs once more and wrapped around Orca’s body.

But Orca was still unmoved.

It merely clicked its tongue.

“Winston, that guy. Maybe he’s too young, but I advised him not to reap, just stomp her to death. Although it is a baby, what good is there in keeping the seed of anger alive? It will eventually come back to bite him.”

The old soldier recalled a time long ago. A long time ago.

And the reminiscences were enough to provoke someone, just by muttering them.

Such was the case with Sady.

“Die! I’ll kill you! Aaaahhh!”

Her resentment growing thicker and hotter with each passing second, she channeled all of her aura, enhanced by her demonization, into the tip of the whip and let it explode.


The air ruptured, and the ground tore like paper.

Orca’s brow furrowed, and he yanked at the chain around his waist.


The chain moved, and so did the handle of the club at its end.

Orca grabbed the handle of the club and swung it once, casually.


The ripple in the air is enough to break Sady’s whip.

Seeing this, Aiyen’s mouth dropped open.

“Is it possible to have that kind of strength at that age? Normally, He should be lying in bed and being carried around.”

“The same could be said for Chief Aquila.”

“My mother wasn’t that old.”

Aiyen smirked at Vikir’s comment.

At the same time, she raised the bow in her hand and prepared to snipe.

The extra strength she’d gained from the stats she’d gotten from the Hell Tree allowed her to pull the bowstring even tighter.


The sound of an arrow being released was deceptively loud as it struck Orca.

Near his throat, to be exact.


Orca raised his club to block Aiyen’s arrow.

“Sniper, you’re a nuisance.”

Aiyen felt sorry for Orca when he responded indifferently.

“If only I had a better bow…….”

But before Aiyen could finish her grumble, Orca made a move.

“You guys go clean up the area. I’m going to investigate that strange orb.”

At Orca’s command, D’Ordume and Souare nodded with grim expressions.

(Even Flubber’s expression turned a bit somber next to them.)

With that, Orca approached Poseidon with his club crossed in front of him.

Standing in his way was Vikir.


A crimson aura emanated from Beelzebub.

Orca’s brow creased.

“It’s the child of the Baskervilles. But how did you get this power? At your age?”

“Let’s not mention age.”

Young or old, these are two men with powers that don’t belong together.

The two old warriors clashed ferociously in the center of the battlefield.


The atmosphere shatters into pieces.

The heavy black aura emanating from Orca’s club and the crimson light from Vikir’s Beelzebub intertwine ferociously.

The aftermath of the impact is still running through the ground, nourishing Poseidon.

The blue glow was even more intense than before.

Seeing it, Orca’s eyes turned even more sinister.

“You must have something up your sleeve, I suppose, to cause all this chaos and then sneak back here. Like a rat.”

“……I won’t deny it.”

Orca’s club comes down, and Vikir’s sword meets it.

The air cracked and the ground warped with each blow.

Vikir turned to Aiyen behind him.

“I’ll stop this one, and you focus on getting Poseidon activated.”

“Got it!”

As soon as Aiyen realized that Orca was no match for her, she began to do what she could.

“You grumpy old man…….”

Sady raised her demonized body again and tried to aim for Orca’s back, but the presence of D’Ordume, Souare, and Flubber in front of her prevented her from doing so.

This allowed Vikir to focus solely on the opponent in front of him.

…… But that doesn’t make things any easier.


The weight of the club landing on the back of his sword was more than even the mighty Vikir could handle.

Each blow was heavy, and the slightest misstep in the center of gravity would result in an instant death.

‘……Orca. An unexpected figure.’

Indeed, the Nouvelle Vague’s signature fighting power.

Vikir stepped back, feeling a few drops of cold sweat slip away as the club swept past him.

Despite drawing upon the power of the Supreme Realm and beyond, the battle was tense.

Vikir had to admit that Orca was much stronger than he had expected.

‘I think he’s a little stronger than Nabokov I, and…… a little less than CaneCorso.’

Pope Nabokov I’s combat prowess had been a surprise to him, having seen it only briefly against Amdusias.

But she was long past her prime, and as a priest, she wasn’t exactly a combat specialist.

And considering that CaneCorso was also a former human who became a Death Knight, it’s safe to say that Warden Orca in front of him is the strongest human Vikir has ever encountered.

Orca, meanwhile, is equally surprised that Vikir, who appears to be no more than twenty years old at most, has such great strength and seasoned senses.


Once again, Orca’s club and Vikir’s sword clashed.

Their auras tangled wildly, each crushing and cutting the other.

In the aftermath of this murderous clash, the surrounding stone mountains crumbled, leaving behind a trail of steam, flame, and dust.


Vikir raised his knee to block the flying Orca’s military boots.


Orca turned his head away to avoid Vikir’s left fist.

The blue flames surrounding Poseidon grew stronger and stronger as Vikir and Orca fought a fierce hand-to-hand combat, using fists and feet in addition to swords and clubs.

“Husby, it’s almost time!”

Hearing Aiyen’s shout, Vikir nodded and tried to push back.



A chain swung from the end of the club like a whip, grabbed Vikir’s ankle and yanked.

“Where are you going? I have to see the end. Young people these days don’t have much patient.”

Orca’s eyes sparked with searing fire.

Vikir glanced away and squinted behind him.

Poseidon’s vibration is unusual.

Judging by the constant explosions near the roots, the accumulated shock must be about to cross the breaking point.

‘……Now, or a little longer? No, should we leave now?’

The timing was ambiguous enough that even Vikir couldn’t make an accurate judgment.

A little more shock, just a little more, would make it clearer, but if he stayed here and fought Orca any longer, he wouldn’t have the stamina to escape.

And above all, on the battlefield before the regression, Orca was a great hero who had helped the Human Alliance enormously, so he could not be expected to fight to the death in a place like this.

‘He was also the one who blew up the Nouvelle Vague with his own hands…….’

Vikir already knew why.

The Destruction War. A growing war. The looming doom. Demons turning their attention to Nouvelle Vague. ……And then there was the event that had nothing to do with any of that.

‘……The ‘Second’ 47 Man Riot.’

Vikir mentally recalled a specific event.


Orca’s club came flying down.

Vikir pushed his aura to the limit and met Orca’s blow.


Baskerville 8th Form, Black Sun.

Despite the fact that even the Black Tongue was sent flying in a single blow, Orca managed to hold on.

His brow crumpled slightly, but he didn’t back down.

The gaping wounds on his forehead and chin were popping open and spewing red blood, but he hadn’t taken a step back from the spot, blocking Vikir’s black sun.

“…… Is this your highest power?”


“Then it’s my turn.”

Orca swiped a hand across his sweaty, bloodied face.

And then.


The sound of twisting muscles and bones could be heard throughout his body.

For a moment, a piece of pre-regression common sense flashed through Vikir’s mind.

‘ ……They said Orca wasn’t an ordinary human either.’

That’s right. Just as the five wardens of the Nouvelle Vague were not all human, so was Orca.

Vikir had just adjusted his stance and was about to enter the second round.


The sound of tough leather popping came from somewhere.

The back of Javert’s thick fur coat was torn from his shoulders, and a whip flicked across it.

Sady. She was holding onto Orca’s back, exhausted from the aftereffects of the demonization and the battle.

Further behind them, D’Ordume and Souare lay sprawled in a pool of blood.

Flubber doesn’t even look like it’s been blown to pieces.

“……Thank you.”

Sady wasn’t looking at Orca, she was looking at Vikir.

Vikir tilted his head at her unexpected words.

What is she thanking me for?

Sady continued.

“For keeping your promise.”

Suddenly, Vikir remembered a promise he’d made to her at Colosseo Academy.

He had asked her to hand over Orwell, the key to Nouvelle Vague’s front door.

‘Hand it over.’

‘Yes~ I’ll give it to you~ I really need the ‘front door key’ too, but…… there are other ways.’


‘Can you promise me one more thing in return?’

Sady was clearly asking for a favor.

‘When you escape, if you get a chance, please bring my grandfather out with you.’

Sady’s grandfather, the man she credits with having the greatest influence on her thinking.


Vikir’s eyes widened and she looked around.

The terrain had already been ravaged by Vikir and Orca’s clash.

Every mountain and hill had collapsed, and countless crevasses had formed on the plains, leaving them open-mouthed.

Even Level 9 couldn’t handle it, and the aftermath had reached the areas of the beings they had isolated.

Under the circumstances, it’s no wonder.

ujig- ujijijig!

In the distance, the cell began to crumble.

“……Ah, no.”

Souare, who was in charge of the cell, turned white.

D’Ordume, too, was unable to speak as he was devastated.


Even the mighty Orca’s face crumpled.

His face was even more distorted than when he was facing Vikir’s 8th Form earlier.

And then.

A voice began to emanate from the crumbling cell.


A hollow laugh, like the wind being let out of a balloon.

It was a sound Vikir had heard once before, when he was in solitary confinement.

Then, from among the crumbling rubble, a tall, sturdy old man pushed himself up.

His appearance was so gaunt and twisted that one might suspect he was undead.

Indeed, he had the gaunt appearance of someone who had just been released from solitary confinement.

However, his gestures and movements still have a leisurely feel.

He didn’t look like he was someone who had just come out of solitary confinement.


Vikir asks, and the old man nods and smiles.

“Good thing you came, I was getting tired of ‘vacation’.”

The old man looked back at Sady on the floor and smiled warmly.

Only then was Vikir once again certain of his identity.

“Angajumang Cedric Sady de Sade. Also known as the Marquis de Sade.

It was the unleashing of a rare warmonger who had shaken the Empire to its core more than forty years ago with the ’47 Man Riots’.