The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound

Chapter 365: Castle of the Deep Sea (3)

The formalities were all over. The bodies of the deceased prisoners were tossed like trash beneath the cliffs under the volcano.

Since they were not officially ‘executed’, nobody cared about the situation of the prisoners reported as ‘alive and incarcerated’ in the records on the surface.

They would remain bureaucratically trapped in this prison even after death. On the other hand, the surviving prisoners from the arrival announcements were assigned floors and rooms.

Vikir, who had received a life sentence of over 3,000 times and showed a casual attitude during belongings inspection, health check, and bathing, was naturally assigned to ‘Level Nine’.

…Clang!

Vikir found himself trapped in a cramped room. Level Nine meant solitary confinement by default.

Surprisingly, the atmosphere in the room was ordinary. It was a chamber built of large black bricks, with bars made of a substance called BDISSEM, which absorbed mana and physical force, covering the entire chamber.

‘So, it seems I won’t be chiseling bricks with a spoon anytime soon.’

The BDISSEM bars were not only tightly spaced but covered the ceiling, walls, and floor, making escape an impossible dream.

Even if one managed to break through the wall or floor, it would lead to the seabed 10,000 meters below, rendering digging meaningless.

Drip-drip-drip- Cold water droplets fell between the bricks. It was heavily salted water, saturating the air with extreme humidity, making Vikir feel sticky all over.

The dark, cold, damp aura filled not only the cell but also the entire corridor.

Inside the chamber, there was nothing. Just an empty cuboid space devoid of even basic bedding or utensils.

Yet Vikir’s assessment was somewhat positive. ‘It’s a livable place, relatively speaking.’

Compared to the hellish battlefields he had traversed during the era of destruction, this situation could be considered comfortable.

As Vikir muttered quietly to himself…

Thud!

The heavy iron door across trembled loudly.

Creak-creak-creak- Nearly a hundred guards had to exert themselves to open it

Inmates were likely coming back from forced labor outside.

Huh, huh! Huffing… puffing…

“Ugh…”

“Gruhh… ugh…”

The state of the prisoners returning from forced labor was uniformly dismal.

Vikir recalled the information he already knew. From Level 1 to Level 9 prisoners, all inmates of Nouvellebag had to go to the labor yard every morning.

The labor involved digging into the inner depths of Mount Sahwa, the underwater volcanic mountain peak on which Nouvellebag prison was located. It was an expansion project to increase the internal space of Nouvellebag; Mount Sahwa’s immense geothermal volcanic energy never diminished, even after many centuries.

Hence, prisoners dug and dug every day, their lives ebbing away as they toiled, while the land remained unchanged.

“New prisoners will also be assigned to work starting tomorrow,” a voice echoed from beside Vikir’s iron bars.

It was Garam Nord, who had now approached him. Walking from beside the row of moaning prisoners suffering from burns and dehydration, he spoke.

“At 4 a.m., you will wake up and work continuously until 1 p.m. There is a 10-minute lunch break. After that time elapses, work continues until midnight. Then, you return to your room, have one hour for prayer and repentance, and go to sleep at 1 a.m.”

In other words, it meant three hours of sleep per day, one meal a day, and even that was a meager meal like black bread or a piece of jerky to be eaten within 10 minutes.

This relentless, high-intensity labor continued daily.

Due to Nouvellebag’s vertical panopticon structure, Garam’s voice reverberated upwards, conveying the message far and wide.

Listening to Garam’s voice and the waves it created, Vikir could grasp the overall structure of Nouvellebag.

‘…A large cylindrical structure. Prisoner cells are arranged in a circular manner on the walls, and there seems to be a workshop at the center of the 9th floor below.’

Stronger prisoners near Level 9 were engaged in breaking rocks and digging deeper into the earth in the central depths of the 9th underground floor, while weaker ones closer to Level 1 seemed to be working far away, handling piles of dirt and chunks of rock, presumably disposing them outside.

Prisoners placed in between were divided into work areas based on their level, moving piles of rocks and dirt.

So, the closer to Level 9, the deeper and hotter the workshop, and the more dangerous the work, while the closer to Level 1, the relatively shallower, cooler, and safer the work.

Although it might sound complicated when explained verbally, it was a straightforward and simple structure when visualized.

Garam Nord said,

“You are currently engaged in the glorious labor of expanding the great Nouvellebag. I hope you take pride in your work and do it diligently.”

The expansion of Nouvellebag. To be more precise, they were currently working on creating an area one level deeper than the underground 9th floor, known as ‘Level Ten’, a large-scale construction project to create the 10th underground floor.

Since they were digging down to Level 10, it was natural for the workshop to be located on the 9th floor underground.

“In the newly created Level Ten area, we plan to relocate even the most heinous criminals who are impossible to contain in Level Nine. It would be wise for all to cooperate actively if they consider their safety,” Garam added.

There was logic in Garam’s words. Occasionally, uncontrollable heinous criminals caused riots in Nouvellebag, and whenever that happened, the first and most numerous casualties were always the prisoners.

So, from the prisoners’ perspective, it was strategically advantageous for the weaker ones to participate diligently in the work, sending the dangerous upper-level prisoners to the lower levels as quickly as possible.

Vikir nodded in agreement.

‘After all, there are many monsters in Nouvellebag beyond the norm.’

Even among the criminals Vikir knew who were currently confined to Level Nine, their numbers were considerable.

“Sycthus Megidio,” “Duke Griffin,” “Aurora of the Sleeping Forest,” “Snow White of the Saxy Family,” “Cinderella of the Glass Slippers,” “Count Sade”…

Each one of them was a monster powerful enough to destroy a small country with a single breath.

“When they were on the surface, those who were sentenced to more than 5,000 life sentences and imprisoned here seemed to be unbearable even for Nouvellebag’s Level Nine.”

“By the way, if you refuse to work or resist the guards’ control, it’s straight to solitary confinement. Don’t think there’s a floor worse than Level Nine.”

Garam seemed to address Vikir specifically.

Vikir listened and nodded slowly. The solitary confinement mentioned by that guard must be a completely different concept from the solitary confinement Vikir was in.

“It’s solitary confinement. A dreadful place. I heard it’s almost impossible to come out alive once you’re locked in there… And there’s supposedly only one prisoner in Nouvellebag who could endure it.”

As Vikir recalled various pieces of information he had heard before his regression, a sudden exclamation interrupted his thoughts.

“Oh, they’re coming! They’re coming!”

“Everyone, move aside! You might get eaten if you’re not careful!”

The low-level floor prisoners returning from their labor recoiled in terror as black shadows stretched across the horizon, large or small, or monstrously huge.

“They’re the Level Nine prisoners who have just finished their work in the center of the labor yard.”

When all eyes were focused on the returning Level Nine prisoners…

Vikir, seemingly indifferent, turned his head and spoke in a nonchalant tone.

“Hey, guard. Do we have newspapers here by any chance?”

The guard, who had been tense with sweat beading on his forehead, turned his head as if dumbfounded, then replied incredulously.

“Newspapers? Why would you, a prisoner, be interested in such a precious thing?”

“Newspapers are precious? I didn’t know that.”

“Information from the outside world is valuable, no matter what it is. Especially something like newspapers. Even guards can’t easily access them; only guard chiefs or a few privileged individuals can read them.”

The connection with the outside world was that valuable and dangerous. At least that was the case in Nouvellebag.

Vikir clicked his tongue with a hint of disappointment.

“Whether you’re a prisoner or a guard, being trapped here is essentially the same.”

To this remark, Garam put his hands on his hips, looking puzzled. But he didn’t draw the truncheon from his belt.

“…Tomorrow, even that luxury will disappear.”

No matter how demonic the prisoners trapped in Level Nine might be, once they tasted the labor in Nouvellebag, they would likely be completely overwhelmed.

This was a prison named after the once hotter-than-any-volcano, Nouvellebag. Though it had now become Mount Sahwa, the geothermal energy trapped inside was as hellish as ever.

Starting tomorrow, for Vikir, who had to dig into it, especially the deepest and hottest areas, Garam silently expressed condolences in his heart.

Even monsters trapped in Level Nine often perished here.