Regressor of the Fallen Family

Regressor of the Fallen Family Chapter 141

A distance of over one kilometer separated the retreating camps of the two factions, with their leaders facing each other in the center of the open field.

Thump.

Rolling.

“Here is the head of Roger Bifrost. It’s a bit aged, but you might want to inspect it further?”

“No, I’ll take your retreat at your word. However, if you go back on it…”

“Do not bother with empty threats. We’ve withdrawn from this war and will absolutely not partake again.”

Logan’s words made Wicken Callian grind his teeth.

“Hmph… fine. If anyone could say it, it’s you, Logan McLaine.”

“What?”

“The moment your force attacked, we had already sent a signal.”

The truth was, he was about to send it.

“What?! Damn…”

“Seems you’ve no time to be angry with me?”

“You, just you wait.”

Though he spoke thus, Wicken Callian retreated, glaring at Logan as if keeping him in check.

His form sliding backwards without moving his feet, as if carried by the wind.

And even that retreat was swift as a gale; soon he stood at the rear of the Kaihl Knights.

– All troops, regroup! Full speed back to headquarters!

Only then did Logan turn, spitting out the blood he had been suppressing.

Cough.

“Gh…”

“My lord!”

Between the fading threads of consciousness, he heard a voice calling him, but Logan lacked the strength to respond.

The act could continue no longer; his limits had been reached.

‘I need to send a signal quickly…to pit them against each other in a bloody fight…’.

He pushed aside the thoughts that came to mind momentarily.

* * *

[Bifrost’s assault, followed by an attack from the First Prince’s troops, your grace. How should I interpret this?]

A pale-faced youth appeared within the communication sphere, contempt in his red eyes.

Normally, Yordan Valdermaine would’ve berated such insolence, but the horrendous state of McLaine’s forces seen in real time left him without words.

“…It’s all my oversight.”

A detailed explanation unlike anything he’d uttered before.

“I have no excuse, even with ten mouths, for making you face the brunt of a weapon I gave to supplement insufficient forces.”

His uncharacteristically humble speech failed to impress.

[Roger Bifrost is a well-known confidant of yours. Did you really know nothing of his actions?]

The counterargument from the other side was not assuaged.

‘Even if it had been me…’

Yordan Valdermaine’s teeth grated.

He harbored an ill thought but now had to persuade the other party at all costs.

Losing McLaine along with the already shattered Bifrost?

The victorious momentum he barely seized was about to slip away again.

“Just hear me out! His actions were truly…”

[We openly sacrificed everything for the faction. Yet we were backstabbed. What would your grace have done?]

Unable to rebuke the one who cut him off.

The thick anger could be felt in the calm tone over the communication sphere.

“young lord Logan, calm down and hear me…”

[Turning the tide in the war, I did not expect to have such goodwill repaid this manner. I did not know your grace was so petty. Do you wish for me to defect to the First Prince?]

“Listen to me!!”

[Now who’s angry…!]

“Truly, if I had intended to attack you, would I only have used Roger? Just think calmly, that was his own decision!”

In trying to appease him, he himself became agitated.

However, it appeared to sway the other.

[Hm… indeed, you have a point.]

“Don’t misunderstand! I can more than compensate for your losses. Let’s talk it out and calm down.”

[Huh… after the war ends?]

Logan’s mocking tone sent Yordan’s blood pressure rising.

He restrained himself despite decades worth of irritation brimming.

[Are you jesting right now? After being backstabbed, you speak of compensation after the war ends? Hah. It seems you’re set on turning my insides out.]

Holding back the boiling rage, Yordan was helpless to do otherwise.

“…If you have terms, state them. Whatever I can do, I will fulfill.”

At last, he admitted defeat with a deep sigh.

Yordan hoped to secure McLaine—at any cost.

‘I can just ignore it later.’

But the other party did not accept even this.

[Firstly, my family and I will return to our territories.]

“What?!”

[Continued fighting is impractical under these circumstances. And I must profess, I can no longer trust the faction. Thus, McLaine will withdraw from this war entirely. Should you win, all we ask is that you honor the initial promise.]

“Think it over, Logan. McLaine is worth more than you realize. Even if you abstain from the mission for now and provide weapons, victory is assured. I will not force participation…”

Despite Yordan’s attempts at persuasion,

[After such betrayal, you want me to provide weapons? Sorry, but I am not such a fool.]

Logan’s resolve was implacable.

“As I said, that was Roger’s unilateral act…!”

[I am not defecting to the First Prince because I believe that. Yet, it’s difficult for us to continue aiding your faction.]

“Logan…!”

[Should I change my mind, I will contact you. For now, McLaine will exit the battlefield.]

“No! Think a little longer…”

[As a last show of loyalty, here’s some information: ‘Yesterday’s’ assault on us was by the Kaihl Knights. Count Wicken Callian was also present.]

“…What?!”

Why was he there?

There had been no reports from the spies.

Had Ruter Kaihl survived despite being face-to-face with the Tempest Sword??

Overwhelmed with unexpected news, Yordan Valdermaine’s head throbbed.

[Goodbye, then. I sincerely hope to receive the promised rewards after the war.]

Static.

The communication was abruptly cut.

Stunned for a moment, Yordan Valdermaine could not contain his anger and kicked the desk in his office violently.

Bang!

“Lucent Talos! Call for Talos! And prepare all troops for deployment!”

– Yes? Yes, your grace!

The flustered voices outside the door fueled his fury further.

“Damn it all! How has it come to this…?”

* * *

“We can finally withdraw!”

The grand actor who had finished his performance shouted exuberantly.

To tip the balance between the factions and slip away once the fight ensues.

The daunting plan had succeeded magnificently, invigorating him completely.

And the onlookers shared his excitement.

“Hehehe. Did it really go this smoothly?”

“My lord, the plan has come to fruition much sooner than expected.”

Their admiration was met with a composed smile from Logan.

“The First Prince’s forces took considerable damage and the Second Prince’s forces eliminated Bifrost. With some of Liberatio left, the Second Prince might soon resume the siege before they realize we’ve withdrawn. And us…”

“We just slip away from the battlefield and watch them destroy each other, right?”

“Yes.”

“What comes after?”

“I have a plan. I’ll share it in due course.”

“Alright, well done. Let’s head home.”

Patrick chuckled, patting his son’s shoulder.

Then.

“Everyone up! The play’s over!”

Across the communication sphere, soldiers smeared in blood who had been lying sprawled started to stir.

“It’s over? Is it really over?”

“Yes. We’re heading home!”

“Wow!”

A knight, Henderson, who had buried himself up to his neck in the soil, opened his eyes wide.

“Hey, get me out!”

“You lunatic! Who asked you to bury yourself?!”

“It makes it more realistic!”

“As energetic as ever in the strangest ways…”

Digrom sighed as he grabbed a shovel.

Despite his exasperation, a bright smile played on his face.

* * *

The phenomena known as the Force is a rare ability said to manifest through strenuous training among those of superior physical prowess.

Unlike Force, whose methods of detection are not yet fully understood, the talent for Mana makes itself known.

Most who can feel or use even a trace of mana from a young age possess the potential to become mana users or magicians.

Consequently, many magicians carry a chosen-saviour complex—especially those with notable talent—culminating in the existence of a minority known as high mages after decades of seclusion and experimentation.

Thus, there’s a prevalence of character flaws among high mages.

Their pattern is consistent: Unless someone is their equal or superior in magic, they consider everyone beneath them.

In that sense, Juan Douglas, born an heir to the duke’s family and hailed as a prodigy in magic before reaching the 6th circle at forty, stood at the apex of character-flawed mages.

His noble status had only masked his arrogance and elitism.

But pushed to the brink for the first time in his life, that twisted personality had nowhere to hide.

“Block them! Why can’t you do something so simple!”

His army was faltering against the unexpected onslaught.

The number of enemy knights scaling the walls added to his anxiety.

While the Baltermine knights, abundant in number but not skill, struggled against his disciples and grandstudents from Ice Tower, a top magic institute, the true cause of this was a singular entity.

A giant, nullifying hundreds of repeating crossbowmen as he leaped onto the walls.

The ice-bound Luther Kaihl began to crack through the frozen walls trying to escape.

“Bring the magic crystals! All of them!”

He would have cut the brute’s throat if he could get close; all he could do now was spend magic crystals on inefficient long-range magic.

Eventually, once out of stones, he’d face a dire choice—enter the battlefield himself, risking the prince’s life, or watch as the brute crumbled his forces.

It was that thought that irked him about another superhuman, his insubordinate son-in-law who impulsively gone after a junior.

Despite Juan’s advice to send just the elite of Dukes’s forces, he went personally.

“Wicken disregarded my command.”

Typically, he would laugh it off regardless of his true feelings, but now his anger was palpable.

And that fury inadvertently froze the surrounding air, making nearby adjutants shiver uncontrollably.

“We, we’ve sent the signal, he should return shortly!”

“He has nearly arrived!”

The calming news came just as the imprisoned giant broke free, and his counter, the Tempest Sword himself, arrived at the western walls.

– It’s the Tempest Sword!

– Count Wicken is here!

At last, Juan Douglas allowed himself a sigh of relief, his breath frosting over the command post, and he wore a forced smile.

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