Regressor of the Fallen Family

Regressor of the Fallen Family Chapter 121

No normal emotional state could find pleasure in witnessing a body split in half, spewing out its innards.

Especially if it was by one’s own hands.

Yet, there Logan stood, with a pallid face dripping with cold sweat, wearing a bright smile.

It wasn’t because he had a perverse penchant for murder.

“Aaaahhh!”

Crunch.

A hand clenches involuntarily, a thrilling shudder coursing through to the tips of his nerves.

He had reached a realm in his current life that he could never have dreamed of in his past.

“I did it!”

A pure joy overlapped—the joy of overcoming life-threatening danger and the exhilaration of feeling elevated, almost like ascending to a higher existence.

Despite his poor physical state, this joy made Logan exclaim in delight.

But there wasn’t room to revel in this bliss just yet.

– Aaack!

Just as the screams seemed to fade, they echoed once more.

Logan stiffened his face and rushed toward the residence like the wind.

Fortunately, Logan’s pride was met with due consequences.

As he entered the residence, he saw mostly the corpses of black-masked attackers, with scarcely a McLaine soldier or knight in sight.

One of them had even been pierced by the soldiers’ quarrels as Logan discovered and charged at them.

This sight relieved Logan.

“What’s the damage?”

“There’s nothing confirmed yet…”

– BOOOOM!

Logan and the knight who had been responding instantly turned their gaze north.

“Father!”

“My lord!”

At that moment, Logan dashed northward like the breeze.

Ching! Bang! Boom!

Bloodcurdling screams rang out from the northern annex where the lord and his wife resided.

A one-sided fight was underway, with the bright red of the Force Blade catching everyone’s attention.

One was barely managing to block the blows, firmly standing his ground, while the other, as if to mock him, cleverly sneaked in stabs.

Even this was enough for Patrick McLaine, standing his ground, to accumulate more and more injuries.

Whether it was from biting his lip in concentration or an internal injury, blood trickled from his mouth, and the situation was turning increasingly dire.

“Honey! I’m fine! Just fight!”

Marianne Kairos’s desperate cries could be heard.

She might not have the ability or power to fight, but she understood enough to know the cause of her husband’s injuries.

Nonetheless, Patrick did not budge from blocking the door, taking hit after hit.

‘Such folly,’ thought Logan, watching this scene while clenching his teeth.

It was a frustrating sight, a self-defeating move, but profoundly fatherly in a way.

Luckily, Logan had the power to change this irritating scene.

Retaining his sprinting speed, he swiftly positioned himself behind the intruder.

He announced the end of the intruder’s fun, grasping the weakness and gleefully swinging his sword.

“Sorry, pal!”

Thud!

“Ugh?!”

“We’ll talk in a bit.”

A bloody smile brightened the face of the man who had received a blade in the back for the first time.

* * *

“All thirteen attackers you apprehended have been confirmed dead, except one. All killed in the residence appear to be intermediate-grade Force users.”

“Our casualties?”

“Five soldiers dead, twelve injured. And Lord Patrick has suffered serious wounds.”

“Are you certain?”

The damage was remarkably low, given the level of the attackers. Surprisingly, so.

Seeing Logan’s surprise, the knight added,

“It’s true. My personal opinion, sir, it seems like they didn’t do their homework on us at all before the ambush, especially regarding our repeating crossbows.”

“Hm… so it seems.”

Could they be from Yordan Valdermaine’s side?

If these attackers had talked even briefly with Roger Bifrostth, they wouldn’t have made such amateur mistakes.

There was one clear suspect, which shook Logan’s firm suspicions.

But then again.

‘Roger Bifrost might not have said anything, or maybe Yordan didn’t.’

Logan felt the need to have a conversation with his newly-acquainted friend.

“Where are you from?”

“…”

“Valdermaine?”

“…”

“Name?”

“…”

“Are you male?”

For more than ten minutes, only one-sided chatter continued.

His over-silent friend, chained in steel, had nothing to say.

‘Better start talking somehow.’

Whether it would be cursing or lying, one needed the prisoner to start talking to dig anything useful from him.

Thus, masters of torture in Logan’s past life often started by chatting about known topics.

But this guy showed no reaction at all.

Perhaps because Logan had placed a blade in his back right from the start, and then cut all the tendons in his limbs to prevent escape.

‘Maybe I went too far.’

Only rage simmered in his eyes, while his lips refused to part.

Logan had no special talent for torture—neither had any McLaine from a rural territory.

“Stuck at peak condition, and you die as nothing but an assassin? Seems like a waste for a knight, doesn’t it?”

“…”

Even after several attempts, the same expression stayed frozen, unchanging.

“Hmm, I see. I respect that then. Goodbye.”

Swoosh.

“It was nice meeting you.”

“Lord!”

The guard yelped in alarm as Logan stood up, drawing his blade promptly after talking to himself in the cell.

Both Logan and the prisoner remained expressionless, except for one minor detail.

“…Yordan Valdermaine sure picked loyal subordinates.”

That last remark caused the prisoner’s lips to twitch slightly.

“Yordan Valdermaine, indeed.”

In the moment his lips stiffened.

Swooosh! Fwoosh.

Thud.

A spray of blood followed as the man’s head rolled onto the floor of the cell.

“Lo-, Lord.”

“Killed for injuring the lord of McLaine. Death penalty. Ah, should I have let him speak before dying? Tsk.”

The next day.

Despite the previous night’s skirmish, McLaine Town remained peaceful, albeit noisy.

But,

“Did you hear?”

“Yeah, but who launched the attack?”

“I have no idea.”

McLaine House made no official announcement regarding the identity of the attackers; only the compensation for the bereaved soldier families was officially conveyed.

And Logan gathered his close acquaintances.

“Lord Father is severely wounded in bed. The attackers didn’t leave anything to identify themselves, and none of those high-grade Force users had recognizable faces.”

Upon hearing Logan, darkness clouded over the gathered faces.

“That’s why I’m convinced. Last night’s assailant was Yordan Valdermaine. Anyone disagree?”

Dwayne, Heinckel, Philip, Clayton.

All averted their gaze from Logan, looking up at the ceiling or down at the ground.

It was almost as though they had an unspoken agreement.

“Hm. Then, I’ll take everyone’s silence as agreement…”

“No, Lord!”

“We mustn’t challenge the Duchy!”

“What’s more, we could end up facing the entire faction of the second prince!”

“Unless we first get our hands on some generous imperial funds… um… just kidding, kidding. Ahahaha, ha…”

Despite Philip’s reaction, the general agreement was clear.

Logan chuckled.

“Why would you think I’m looking for a fight with the Duke?”

“Well…”

“I mean…”

They returned the look, as if asking whether he understood what he was saying.

Strictly speaking, wasn’t Logan the one who provoked first?

Fortunately, Logan was quick to offer a reassuring response.

“I have at least some common sense, you know. Attacking Yordan Valdermaine now would kill us. If I were the Duke, I’d crush us first. I’m just after Juan Douglas.”

Phew.

A collective sigh of relief was released, a shared breath of release for everyone.

However, this reprieve was short-lived.

“Not a person, but a madman, right? How can someone order an assassination just because a warning was ignored? What kind of twisted person orders a hit because their words were disregarded? Can they live with themselves? Aren’t humans supposed to have a conscience…?”

A string of invectives ensued for over ten minutes, with faces paling again until,

“Ha. Stop!”

Bang!

“We must endure. Why?!”

“…”

“Because we lack power! We’re being slapped, and if we retaliate, we die! It’s unjust, but we must endure. Why?!”

Bang!

“Because. We. Lack. Power.”

“…”

“Isn’t it a pitiful sight? Am I alone in feeling this indignity? Hm?”

Stomp, stomp.

The irritated footsteps resonated through the silence until Logan suddenly asked.

“Heinckel, how is the knights’ training?”

“…We are fully prepared.”

“Are the newly appointed knights reliable?”

“Whether they are or not, they’ll obey orders immediately when given.”

“Good, Dwayne.”

“Yes?!”

The pale-faced administrator looked up at Logan with pity.

“How’s our financial and food stock situation? The second town project should have taken a chunk out of it?”

“It’s a bit tight, but we’ll manage until the harvest season. Once the town construction is complete, we should have some financial leeway.”

“Good. Clayton, how is ‘that’ development doing?”

“A few months… No, we’ll push for a prototype in the next month or two.”

“Excellent. And…”

The mood surged with immense energy, with an intangible morale coming to a boil, and as Logan’s eyes met with Philip’s, he energetically stood up.

“Sit down. Why’re you standing?”

“…Yes.”

“Haha.”

A laugh permeated the room, easing the mood as Logan patted Philip’s shoulder.

“Good job with the food sales to both factions. You’ll be rewarded handsomely if you continue to bring good ideas. And after all this settles… you know?”

“Yes, I’ll do my best!”

“Great. Thanks to you all, there’s hope.”

His irritable expression turned to a smile.

“I believe, no, we believe, that one day we will be strong enough to properly avenge these humiliations.”

The smile-filled face glanced at everyone in the room.

Then slowly and respectfully, bowed his head.

“Lord…”

“Please, just a little more effort from everyone. It’s not far away. If so, all of McLaine’s glory will be shared with you.”

After that day, the atmosphere in McLaine shifted subtly.

* * *

“Do it faster! Push harder!”

Whinnying!

“Take the ones who fall to the medic quickly! And bring on the next!”

The soldiers’ training became increasingly fierce.

“Force users grow by challenging their limits. When you think you’ve reached your limit, step forward. Make it a habit.”

Heinckel demanded near-death perseverance, pushing the knights to their breaking point.

“The lord almost died?”

“A war is brewing?!”

“Insane! There’s no place like our territory to live!”

“We must defend our lands!”

And thus, the number of men joining the local militia to protect their territory continued to grow.

Three months passed in this manner.

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