The Regressor Wants to Become a Hero - Chapter 115

Chapter 115

“…….”

Ian stared at the man as he let go of the priest he had seized.

“Ugh.”

The priest collapsed to the ground, his legs seemingly giving out beneath him. Ian glanced at the crumpled figure and gestured dismissively, silently telling him to leave.

The priest hesitated for a moment before muttering his thanks and hastily retreating.

“Hah.”

The man smirked at the sight. It was futile. How far could the priest possibly go?

The village was encased in a cage-like barrier. While it made external intrusion difficult, it also prevented escape from within. Even if the priest tried to flee, they could capture him anytime. Confident in this, the man took his time.

Believing he had waited long enough, he spoke again.

“Red Spear Knight.”

“Do I look like a knight to you?”

“Your attire is irrelevant. Even if a king wears rags, as long as he commands respect, he remains a king. It’s the same for you. Even dressed as a mercenary, if you wield Berger’s Flame, you’re still the Red Spear Knight.”

“…Surprising. I didn’t think I’d hear such an intellectual response from a Battle Wraith.”

“Don’t insult me. State your name.”

“I don’t get why everyone is so fixated on my name. It’s Ian.”

The man nodded.

“I see. Ian. Let me ask one more thing. Was it you who killed Mari?”

Mari?

For a moment, Ian thought of the twins from the Count Rondria household, whom he hadn’t encountered in a while. But that couldn’t be it.

It must be a coincidence that the Battle Wraith he killed earlier had the same name.

Ian nodded calmly, neither confirming nor denying. The man clearly already knew the answer.

“Yeah, I killed her. I was about to burn that disgusting altar you made, and she got in my way.”

“How was she?”

“Pathetic. Her skills didn’t match her arrogance.”

Ian’s indifferent response caused the man’s expression to twist with anger. He made no effort to hide his emotions.

Unlike those conniving Dark Mages, at least this man’s honesty was refreshing.

But that didn’t mean Ian had any intention of making friendly conversation. Instead, he smirked mockingly.

“Was she one of your kind? She didn’t deserve the title of Battle Wraith.”

“…Shut your mouth.”

Murderous intent flickered in the man’s eyes. His narrowed gaze made it clear he was ready to strike at any moment.

Ian, too, prepared himself. The effects of the Wigner Delta were still active, and they were far superior to the Gamma he’d used before.

Feeling the quickening beat of his heart in anticipation of the impending battle, Ian continued to provoke him.

“Was she someone you cherished?”

“…She was my lover.”

“Wow, impressive. I thought Battle Wraiths were all battle-crazed lunatics, but I guess even among you, love can bloom.”

“We were once human too. Do you think we lack emotions?”

Ian chuckled.

“Well, that’s an interesting little secret. I thought you were born out of malice and countless grudges. But you remember being human? That makes her death even more satisfying.”

“You say that because you know nothing.”

“And I don’t care to know.”

With that cold remark, the man, seemingly unable to hold back any longer, bared his teeth and lunged at Ian.

The man closed the distance in an instant, but Ian could see every movement clearly.

Even so, he was fast. Without the doping agent and clairvoyance, Ian might have struggled to keep up.

The man raised his sword high overhead and swung it down like a bludgeon. Sensing the immense power imbued in the blade, Ian dodged to the side instead of retreating backward.

Crack!

The ground caved in, splitting like a spider’s web beneath the strike. The blow carried far more destructive force than when the man had tried to kill the priest earlier.

From just one move, Ian could discern the nature of his opponent’s swordsmanship.

While most sword techniques focus on slicing or piercing, this man’s style was based on sheer destructive force.

Getting hit wouldn’t result in a clean cut; it would rip flesh apart. A shallow dodge wouldn’t suffice either—the effective range of his attacks was much wider than it appeared.

Then…

The moment Ian’s foot touched the ground, he leaned forward and slashed at the man with his Holy Sword.

Clang!

[Crimson Fang Style: Reversing Heaven]

As soon as their blades clashed, Ian activated the technique.

“……!”

Ian had aimed for a swift victory, but the man didn’t go down so easily.

The man seemed momentarily surprised that his sword moved contrary to his will, yet instead of resisting the circular motion, he followed it and easily broke free.

He countered that?

Ian’s eyes glinted. Compared to the Crimson Fang wielded by the purebred werewolf that had once slept in the ruins, this man’s adaptation might lack refinement.

Still, Ian hadn’t completely mastered the technique either. Differences in species and physique had prevented him from perfecting it. However, he had refined the move with the Hero, making it one of his most polished techniques.

Yet this man countered it in such a brief moment.

As expected of a Battle Wraith.

If the opponent had been a mere mercenary or knight, this would have been unthinkable. But against a Battle Wraith, it wasn’t surprising.

Still, the Crimson Fang Style didn’t end with just Reversing Heaven.

The technique was designed for follow-ups. If the first move was blocked, the next would connect seamlessly.

[Ascending Heaven]

Kaang!

“Ugh!”

The man managed to block, but the impact threw him off balance, pushing him back. Ian didn’t let up, pressing the attack with relentless swings of his sword.

If his opponent’s weapon was heavy and cumbersome, the solution was simple: don’t give him room to strike. Keep the pressure on until the right opportunity arose to finish him off.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Ian’s Holy Sword pounded against the man’s weapon repeatedly, trying to force an opening.

Despite appearances, the man’s defense was solid. Although the speed of Ian’s strikes should have been hard to follow, he barely managed to parry them, retreating step by step.

Ian swung down forcefully.

Boom!

The impact drove the man’s sword into the ground. Ian yanked his blade back for another strike, but he froze at the man’s next action.

The man reached out and grabbed Ian’s blade with his bare hand.

A reckless move. Even with magical reinforcement, there was a high risk of severing his fingers.

But his opponent was a Battle Wraith. Fear of injury or dismemberment meant nothing to him.

Winning was all that mattered. After all, he could always claim another body if he emerged victorious.

Hisssss!

The energy imbued in Ian’s Holy Sword, combined with the searing heat of Bane of Evil, clashed with the man’s magic. White steam erupted as their opposing forces collided, repelling each other violently.

Ian tried to pull his sword free, but the man showed no intention of letting go. Instead, he used the opportunity to retrieve his own sword, still embedded in the ground.

There were no words exchanged, but their gazes conveyed everything they needed to know.

Murderous intent.

Ian returned the Holy Sword to his subspace storage.

“Huh!?”

The man staggered, caught off guard. Ian seized the moment, launching himself into the air and spinning.

[Bane of Evil Style: Flame Kick]

With explosive acceleration, Ian’s foot struck the man’s left arm, sending him flying.

Though his body was durable, the sudden impact was too much to withstand. The man was hurled into a wooden structure.

Crash!

Before the dust could settle, a heavy slash tore through the wreckage. The attack’s range was wide, and the magic imbued in it was too potent to deflect easily.

[Crimson Fang Style: Falling Heaven]

He’s trying to crush me.

Ian gripped his Holy Sword with both hands and brought it down at the precise moment, cleaving through the incoming slash as if splitting firewood.

Boom!

Dust billowed up, obscuring the area. From within, a low voice emerged.

“Mari… was a pitiful woman.”

Ian scoffed. “Oh, are you about to recite some tragic story? Sorry, I’m not interested. Don’t care to hear it.”

“……”

“No matter what excuses you come up with or to whom you speak, no one will ever understand you. Not as long as you’re a Battle Wraith.”

This man and his group had massacred the villagers, killed innocent people, and used their corpses to construct an altar. Such atrocities could never be justified.

“Or are you seeking forgiveness from the dead? If so, let me save you the trouble. No matter how much you beg, the Lords will turn a blind eye. There’s no salvation for you.”

Ian’s resolute words struck a nerve. The man frowned but soon smiled.

“I know. There is no salvation. I’ve already experienced that. Isn’t the proof all around us?”

The man spread his arms wide.

“Look at this village. Hundreds are dead. No one survived. Mari and I opened a sacred battleground here a few days ago. We killed the villagers one by one—searching cupboards, storerooms, under beds. Even the hidden children were dragged out. You saw the altar we burned, didn’t you? Those children were part of it.”

Ian said nothing, his face darkening.

“It didn’t matter who they were. Gender, age—none of it. They all begged for salvation, and we laughed at them. We deliberately severed their limbs to make them scream longer. Then we gathered the bodies, built the altar, and offered their heads as sacrifices while their remains formed the altar’s walls. It was all for the Outer Gods.”

The gruesome account churned Ian’s stomach.

“So? What are you trying to tell me?”

“As you said, there’s no salvation. This world will eventually fall to our god.”

“When did a Battle Wraith become a prophet?”

“A prophecy? Yes, you could call it that. The Lords you hold in such high regard will struggle just to hold back our god. The masses cry out for salvation, but nothing changes. Even as they die, the Lords can do nothing. They might weep, and thunder may crash as if mourning our deeds, but divine punishment never comes. That’s what your Lords are—pitiful and powerless. Their incompetence created us.”

“……”

“And you will end the same. Just as we were forsaken and became a Battle Wraith, just as this village’s people were forsaken and became sacrifices, you too will be abandoned and die. No, you will die. Here, today, by my hand.”

With that, the man unleashed a surge of magic, swinging his sword at Ian.

Five sharp slashes shot forth, cutting through the air toward him. Ian swung the Holy Sword, deflecting them all.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

His arm trembled. The man’s overwhelming strength, combined with the weight of his swordsmanship, pressed down on Ian, suffocating the space around him.

[Four Slashes and Three Thrusts]

Ian recognized the technique. He had seen it before, but this time it was far more threatening than when the woman used it.

The brilliant blue blade lunged forward with deadly precision.

Ian didn’t retreat. He stayed his ground, blocking and evading each strike.

There was no time to catch his breath as he moved his arms with relentless speed.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Each clash of their swords unleashed a burst of flame, distorting the view between them.

Fwoosh—

Ian, however, held the advantage. His awakened Inner Eye allowed him to track the enemy’s every move.

While his opponent was forced to guess Ian’s position through the fiery haze, Ian could anticipate the man’s thrusts and evade them.

Seizing the opportunity created by the evasion, Ian slashed downward. The lingering flames in the air absorbed his mana, taking the shape of a burning wheel.

[Bane of Evil Style: Punishment – Wheel Form]

“Argh!”

Startled, the man switched to a reverse grip, angling his sword diagonally to intercept the flaming wheel. With a defiant roar, he heaved the wheel skyward, pushing it away.

It was an unexpected defense, but it didn’t matter. Ian’s true strike was still to come.

Gripping the Holy Sword tightly, he leveled its tip toward the man’s solar plexus. Mana coiled around the blade, condensing to a single point.

Ian thrust the sword forward.

[Crimson Fang Style: Piercing Heaven]

With a clean and decisive motion, the Holy Sword pierced through the man, leaving a flawless trajectory in its wake

———-