Three months later.
"Hohoho-what's this, you're alive?"
The concrete of the cell shattered with Souaré's exclamation.
ppageujag- ppadeudeug! ujijijig!
The hardened concrete shattered and V ikir opened his eyes.
His body had been reduced to nothing but bone and skin, but his eyes were still bright with life.
Souaré stroked her mustache and said.
"Well, if I'd known you were going to be like this, I should have taken you out a month or two ago. You're better off in my room than in solitary confinement, aren't you? I've been having some lonely nights lately."
"No thanks."
"Hohoho – you're a cheeky little thing, really. I like you, and I'll be nice to you next time you're in solitary confinement ~ see ya!"
Vikir walked out unsteadily, being waved goodbye by Souaré.
A quick glance behind him revealed a pile of concrete and asphalt, covered in countless piles.
It must be the solitary confinement cell of the old man Angajumang.
'It was a terrible time.'
Next to him, old man Angajumang kept asking him to play nonsword bimu.
Vikir was returned to the stone chamber of Level 9, where he was originally imprisoned.
BANG!
The door slams shut, and darkness immediately descends.
He would be taken to the labor camp at dawn in a few hours.
Vikir decided to save some stamina for that time.
jiiing- twes!
The Ring of Andromalius was spat out from Decarabia's unknown mouth.
He had stockpiled quite a bit of food in it, so Vikir took it out little by little and consumed it.
"I guess I'll live a little longer."
Vikir looked down at Andromalius' ring.
In the past, after creating a large barrier at the Academy, the power has not been gathered well, so he could only use it to take out food like this.
It was a shame.
[Human, what will you do from now on?]
"I have to do labor, now I have an excuse to work hard."
[Human. The other humans must think you work hard because you're afraid of solitary confinement].
"Right. I need to get to work on Level 10 as soon as possible. So I can find what I'm looking for."
When Decarabia asked, Vikir responded indifferently
But today, Decarabia had a lot of questions.
[What on earth are you looking for at such a deep seabed, anyway? Is there some kind of treasure hidden beneath a dead extinct volcano?]
"...."
Vikir was silent for a moment.
What Vikir is looking for.
It's a very important thing, especially now that there are only four of the Ten Corpses left.
'If the three survivors of the ten corpses join hands, something will happen.'
They would most likely try to hasten the age of destruction by force.
If that happens, no matter how hard Vikir try to get out of the way, he'll only have one body.
A terrible war that would kill countless human beings. There will be a war of destruction.
Now, the battle against the Ten Corpses has entered its final phase. Vikir, too, had something to lose and something to gain.
'Maybe I can end the fight once and for all.'
And so Vikir traveled to Nouvelle Vague to find a weapon that could counter the final weapon of the Ten Corpses.
[The final weapon of the Ten Corpses, which presumably means the Rainy Season of Fear?]
"You know very well."
[I know, for I was once their ally].
Decarabia narrows its eyes in agreement, then continues asking questions.
[..., did the human side have any weapons to counter the 'The Rainy Season of Fear', as far as I know, no].
"The demons would know that."
Vikir said, his eyes shining.
But there is. Deep within the Nouvelle Vague volcano, beyond the reach of even the eyes of the demons....
An ancient weapon, 'one that shakes the earth with a roar', that no mortal knows even exists.
"'Poseidon' definitely exists."
The Rainy Season of Fear is the final weapon of the demons, and only Poseidon, the final weapon of humanity, can quell it.
Vikir had traveled all the way down to Nouvelle Vague to find it.
Even if it meant tearing up all the relationships he'd built with his friends.
'They're just schoolmates, people I knew for a year or so when I was a teenager. They'll quickly forget about me.'
Vikir briefly flashed back to the faces of Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinclair, but quickly dismissed them.
What matters now is life in Nouvelle Vague. He must push forward with the construction as quickly as possible, so as not to be outdone by the demons.
'The ones who joined hands must have been Cimeries the 4th, Andrealphus the 3rd, and Flauros the 4th, right?'
The speculation came from the mouths of those who had tortured him before he entered the Nouvelle Vague.
Cimeries, who was apparently a Don Quixote, Andrealphus, who was apparently an Usher, and Flauros, who was apparently a Leviathan.
'Is the last one still in the imperial family?'
It is suspicious that the Emperor did not even show his nose until this division was born from the of the Seven Great Families.
So Vikir planned to infiltrate the imperial family the day he escaped from Nouvelle Vague.
'If I have to, I'll slit the throats of the entire imperial family....'
Then.
A voice interrupted Vikir's thoughts of casual treason.
"Everyone wake up! It's time to go to work!"
It was the wake-up call of Lieutenant Colonel Bastille.
* * *
All prisoners in the Nouvelle Vague are required to perform labor at 4 a.m.
There were no exceptions, even for prisoners returning from solitary confinement.
…kkang! …peoeog! …kwasag!
Vikir was pickaxing while wearing several layers of BDISSEM handcuffs and shackles.
The guards chattered as Vikir continued to dig without pause.
"I've never seen a Level 9 prisoner work so hard."
"Don't you think there's something fishy about this? Is there an ulterior motive?"
"No ulterior motive. He's the one who refused to do his labor the other day and was subdued by Warden D'Ordume and sent to solitary confinement."
"Oh, right. He was in solitary confinement for three months or so, and he made it out alive? That's a badass."
"He made it back alive, but... After that, he keep his mouths shut and do nothing but labor."
"Indeed, solitary confinement is scary, isn't it? Even the monsters of Level 9 have a human side."
"It's frightening. I've seen a man come out of solitary confinement after only half a day, his head white as a sheet, and another after a full day, dead of a heart attack."
No one, not the prisoners, not the guards, thought anything strange about Vikir's hard work.
From then on, Vikir became known as the hardest-working prisoner in Level 9.
"Okay, it's meal time! Ten minute break!"
The next thing he knew, it was lunchtime and the guards were calling for a break.
Vikir sat down and ate his half-steamed sardines and stone-hard black bread.
Waddeuk-
The black bread, which was hard enough to break a tooth, did not crumble even when it was hit hard against a rock.
The sardines, despite being heavily salted, gave off a sour stench.
But the prisoners ate this trashy meal without a second thought.
The work of completing the Level 10 was hard labor.
Someone called it an extinct volcano, and the slightest digging into the cooled strata unleashed a fearsome burst of heat.
A scorching sun that dried everything to a crisp, and lava cascades that flowed everywhere.
Being here is like being turned into jerky.
A normal person wouldn't last more than a few seconds.
Turning his head, he saw some of the prisoners staring down into the lava-filled pit.
Presumably, they've gotten tired of the stale pickled sardines and rock-hard black bread and are looking for something else to eat.
" ...Are there any?"
"Yes. I just saw a shadow."
"Let's go fishing."
"Pull the line and needle before it burns!"
With that, the prisoners reeled in something with a chain fishing line and hook and line needle made from work tools (which are a death penalty if lost).
Chwaak-.
It was a lava shark, a monster that lived in the lava, eight meters long and over a ton in weight.
"Gotcha!"
A prisoner shouted, and the surrounding prisoners rushed towards him.
The lava shark, which had nothing to eat but bones and skin, was quickly torn to shreds by the hands and teeth of the countless prisoners.
The prisoners searched for other food.
But Nouvelle Vague is not a hospitable environment for hunting creatures in the first place, and the prisoners' hunger forced them to look elsewhere.
"...heoeog, heoeog."
Vikir looked at a prisoner sitting in the distance, gasping for air.
His skin was pale and soft, and he was plump and overweight, making him unsuited to the harsh work environment.
He could see the other prisoners making sure he didn't have to work.
"You don't have to work. We'll do all the work for you."
"Don't even move. Just lie down."
"Uh-huh, don't move, you'll lose weight."
Next thing he knows, the most powerful prisoner in the room walks up to the fat one with his mouth watering.
wajag-
The prisoner tears off a piece of flesh and eats it.
The prisoner screams in pain as his flesh is ripped off, but he can only swallow his tears in frustration.
"Hehehe... Get this bastard treated. He's going to be chewed up for a long time."
"I'm glad you put the ointment in in check."
"Tomorrow it's me."
"This asshole's flesh needs to heal fast."
The expression "Rip Off" is often used to describe the exploitation of another person, and here in Nouvelle Vague, it was happening in a very literal way.
Of course, Vikir had no reason to engage in such a disastrous food war, as he had plenty of food stockpiled within Andromalius' ring.
"... They live so hard."
Vikir marveled.
At this point, it was impossible to tell who was human and who was demon.
Just then.
"...!"
Vikir's eye caught a third way the prisoners were getting food.
It was neither hunting nor eating. Surprisingly, it was the most normal and common-sense way.