Episode 453 Declaration of War (4)


The battlefield was filled with smoke.

The Night Hound stares coldly at his freshly killed prey.

Except for the broken neck, it looks like a normal human.

However, judging from the bright red color of its eyes and the red spots on its skin, it was definitely not in a normal state.

Poisonous Man (毒人).

An unintelligent and extremely fierce creature that lunges at humans with a luminescent glow.

Their bites and prolonged exposure to the red energy emanating from their skin can also turn normal humans into Poisonous Man.

Overall, it was similar to a zombie, a low-level undead, but its physical abilities and the amount of poison it emitted were incomparably dangerous.

“Hmph. It must be even more dangerous than him.”

Vikir thought of Sakkuth de Leviathan, a fellow prisoner of the Nouvelle Vague.

Formerly known as the Leviathan’s scoundrel, he was permanently expelled from the family, taking sole responsibility for the ‘First Red Death Incident’.


‘How did you know? There is actually no plague poison in my blood.’

The Sakkuth he met in Nouvelle Vague was strong and fierce, but unsteadily sane, and did not carry the plague.

No one had been infected with the plague until he was eaten by Brigadier Flubber.

But the venomous creatures you just encountered were not only strong and vicious, they seemed to be faithfully carrying out the orders of some entity.

They’re also spreading the Red Death, which has been modified to be more contagious, making them even more dangerous.

“How they managed to create all these Poisonous Man is a mystery. Surely there must be a limit to the amount of poison they can produce…….”

These poisonous beings had been around before Vikir’s regression.

But even then, the mystery of how Leviathan had managed to produce so many of them had never been solved.

“I can’t help but say that I’m glad that Dolores is her…….”

Even if you are bitten by a poisonous person or exposed to poison for a long time, there is no problem as long as you receive the priest’s protection at the right time.

It was also fortunate that the Red Death could not penetrate the space where the Saintess resided, radiating holy power.

Vikir thought to himself.

It was a good thing he’d recruited Dolores in the first place, and that he’d been there to help her develop her skills.

…peog! …peog! …peog! …peog! …peoeog!

Vikir turned his head only after he had finished making sure the ground was covered with the corpses of the Poisonous Man.

Huge craters had formed in the ground where the poisonous creatures had been lying.

The ground had been torn fiercely.

They were the marks of eight teeth.

Vikir thought for a moment.

‘My proficiency with the Eight has certainly increased since Nouvelle Vague.’

Little did Vikir know that after Hell Tree, there was still room for improvement in the Eight Form, which he thought he had already mastered.

With a newfound sense of humility, Vikir reevaluated his swordsmanship.

There is a wall up there, a wall of the 9th Form that cannot be crossed in one’s lifetime, as CaneCorso said.

[You will probably not reach it in your lifetime, for the realm of the 9th Form lies beyond the threshold of death].

[To reach the 10th Form, you must die and awaken. I don’t understand what that means, so I’m still stuck at the 9th Form. How am I supposed to awaken when I’m already dead, and I may never reach the 10th Form?]

Like a legendary island that appears only on stormy nights, or like a rainbow after rain.

The 9th Form that is visible to the eye but can never be reached, but it is definitely there.

Is it really possible to cross that threshold only after death?

Even at the highest level, there are different levels.

Also, in the deep world, there clearly exists something called ‘ultimate intention.’

Vikir has been struggling to grasp a clue to this ever since he was imprisoned in Nouvelle Vague.

Right then.


A scream shatters Vikir’s reverie.

A girl crawled out of the pile of bodies.

Her face couldn’t have been more than ten years old.

When he turned his head, he saw a red-spotted, poisonous creature with a mist of pestilence spewing from its entire body.


Vikir’s mouth falls open for a moment as he sees the girl charging at him, tooth and nail.

The face bears a striking resemblance to the one he remembers.

‘Nymphet.’ Remembering a small encounter he’d had while volunteering at the orphanage long ago, Vikir reached out and brought his hand to the girl’s throat.


The limbs, which had been struggling roughly like a demon, began to droop helplessly.

The girl, who had been writhing in agony even after death, was finally at peace.

Vikir has been traveling from battlefield to battle, eliminating countless Poisonous Man.

The girl before him was the last of his kills.

Vikir nodded, looking at the wheel tracks, half-wrecked carriages, and broken drinking water bottles near the Poisonous People.

“……Same. Were they targeting the supply route to Tochka?”

Poisonous people lined the roads where the wagons carrying drinking water traveled.

Perhaps the Leviathan Family had begun pressuring Tochka from this side in earnest.

There is already something suspicious about Poisonous Man disappearing from various parts of the civil war zone these days.

“Perhaps there will be an all-out war soon.”

The scale and intensity of the battle in Tochka may be small in comparison to the larger wars raging across the Empire’s vast territory.

However, that was just the general public’s view, and the demons probably quickly realized that Tochka was a gathering place for dangerous elements.

A seedy backwater where no one cares and no one supports.

But who could have guessed that this is where the final battle for humanity’s existence would begin?

Vikir closed his eyes and remembered the days before his regression.

Leviathan had once laid siege to Tochka with an army of countless poisoners.

Claiming that it was the duty and right of the Great House to take control of the land on behalf of the family that had lost the ability to manage it.

Ever since then, a feudal war has raged.

It was a war of such magnitude that it was thought of as a war of nations against nations.

At the beginning of the war, the Allies clearly had the upper hand.

At the forefront of the battlefield, the Swordsmen of Baskerville and the Mages of Morg crushed the Poisonous Man with terrifying force.

The Seven Counts of Baskerville, who were said to spend their lives solely in battle, and the Seven Knights, as well as the old and seasoned beasts of the Senate, who were thought to be old men in the backroom, came forward, the Poisonous Man went out like candles before the wind.

The synergy between Morg’s core power, the Light Hall, and the Dark Hall, the secret power that is not revealed, joined hands, the synergy effect was also enormous.

Even Leviathan, who had absorbed Don Quixote and Usher, seemed to falter under their onslaught.

The tide was tipping in their favor.

‘……And then it happened.’

The Rainy Season of Fire.

Showers of fire, a deluge of flames that never stopped for 150 days.

A long rainy season that wiped out 98% of humanity. A season of disaster.

The final weapon of the demons that inflicted the greatest and most horrific damage on the Human Alliance.

Cold sweat broke out on Vikir’s forehead as he recalled the scene of that day when countless dead bodies formed a dark red horizon and the entire sky was ablaze.


The distant sky was darkening.

The clouds had an unnerving reddish tint, and even the thunder crackled with something sinister.

The place where the original home of Leviathan, a Poisonous Dark Master, is located.

Beneath those ominous clouds, Poisonous Man must be gathering. The Poisonous armies are returning from the various battles of the Civil War.


Vikir looked around the Leviathan family’s main home, but was unable to find a way to infiltrate the tight perimeter, so he had no choice but to turn back.

He tried to figure out what had produced so many Poisonous Man, but was unsuccessful.

“Still, it is a great harvest to find out that Poisonous Man are gathering in one place.”

Now it was time to return to their home base and prepare for the next big attack.

“With Dolores, we can put off worrying about the Red Death itself for a bit, but…… mere combat power is a problem.”

The defense of Tochka Fortress, where a single soldier can easily hold off a hundred, is a matter of faith.

Outside the strong fortress of Tochka, the evil spirits of the Red Death will be performing a mad masquerade.

In a land where infectious diseases are rampant, the inside and outside of the fortress have now become a completely different world.

Now everyone, centered around Saintess Dolores, is locked inside the castle and must never go out.

Vikir also planned to close the gates and stage a sit-in once he returned to Tochka after completing this secret mission.


Vikir stared down at the girl’s cold, motionless body for a long moment before taking a step forward.

How many more of these innocent lives will die, he wondered.

When the time of destruction comes, it will be faster to count the living than the dying.

So many more innocent, unknowing, sinless, pure people will die.

No, Rather, the absolute majority of small citizens who are moderately calculating, moderately mean, moderately good, and moderately conscientious will all perish.


Vikir threw a match over the bodies of the Poisonous, including the girl who had just died.

Soon, an acrid smell spreads.

A small flame that bloomed on a land marred by drought and famine soon spread into a rage that seemed to burn the whole world down.

Seeing the burning corpses of so many Poisonous Man, Vikir turned his back completely.

The Night Hound turned back.

Back to his fortress, a natural fortress that specializes in defense and protection.

To Tochka, where his allies await.

And to the final battlefield.