The Regressor Wants to Become a Hero

“This is killing me, seriously.”

It wasn’t an exaggeration. Just activating Bane of Evil consumed both his mana and stamina.

As powerful as the skill was, it still wasn’t enough to take on the Baphomet effectively.

Of course, this was because his mastery level of the technique was still low.

The only reason he could even hold his ground was due to a favorable matchup, the ring on his finger, and Frey’s help.

Without those, he wouldn’t have been able to scratch the creature.

Baaah!

The Baphomet laughed as it took a step forward. Luckily, it didn’t seem interested in Angelo, the priest, indicating it wasn’t in a rush to end things.

Ian readjusted his grip on his sword, assessing how much mana he had left.

“Just one more.”

It wouldn’t be a guaranteed finishing blow, but it would be close. If it failed?

“I’ll have to accept death.”

Exhaling deeply, Ian charged at the Baphomet.

Kicking off the ground, he closed the distance and swung his sword. The blade aimed cleanly for the Baphomet’s neck, but unfortunately, it didn’t connect.

Ian didn’t stop moving. He needed to seize the right opportunity. Any half-baked opening wasn’t worth pursuing.

Blades clashing, hands reaching, flames scattering, spells firing—it was pure chaos. But he didn’t back down.

Their mana clashed violently as it covered their swords, and their fierce glares met.

His muscles felt like they were about to tear. The opportunity wasn’t presenting itself, and the pressure was mounting. His breath was growing ragged.

But he didn’t let impatience take over. One moment of haste could lead to irreversible consequences.

It had happened many times before, not in this new life but in his previous one. Ian had learned from those experiences, and he wasn’t going to repeat them.

In the end, it was the Baphomet that made the mistake. Frustrated by the prolonged fight, it began swinging its sword recklessly.

Ian dodged and, with all his strength, brought his sword down.

Clang!

The Baphomet’s sword snapped in half.

The broken blade flew toward Ian’s face, but he tilted his head just in time to avoid it.

Scratch. A slight graze near his eye. It stung, but the pain quickly dulled.

“Now!”

This was his chance. Ian’s eyes gleamed with deadly intent.

The flames that had been wildly dancing around his sword now condensed. The Baphomet, startled, tried to back away.

Ian didn’t let it escape. A purple glow gathered in the air and shot toward him.

Whoosh!

It narrowly missed his head as he ducked, and now it was Ian’s turn.

He gripped his sword with both hands, raising it diagonally from below, aiming for the creature’s neck. As he unleashed his mana, the technique activated.

[Bane of Evil: Fifth Form]

[Judgment, Decapitation]

In an instant, his sword accelerated explosively, cutting through the air in a perfect arc.

The Baphomet’s arm, still holding the broken sword, flew off into the air.

While the Baphomet’s face was frozen in shock, Ian’s expression was hardened and focused.

“Damn it!”

He missed. That damned goat had annoyingly sharp instincts! Something surged from within.

A metallic taste, mixed with something bitter—blood.

It was the backlash from using a technique beyond his current level. Ian swallowed hard, forcing down the rising bile in his throat.

“One more time.”

He squeezed out what little mana he had left. A sharp pain radiated from his core, where his mana was stored.

He endured it. There was no other choice—if he didn’t, he’d die. Just barely, he gathered enough mana to meet the requirements for using the technique.

“Bane of Evil: Fifth Form.”

Reciting the name of the technique, he visualized it clearly in his mind.

This time, he would sever the creature’s head. The flames that had been flickering and losing form around his blade steadied once again.

Sensing the imminent danger to its life, the Baphomet instinctively unleashed its mana, preparing a spell.

The speed at which it cast was astounding. There wasn’t even time for an incantation or to draw a magic circle. In an instant, it formed a thick barrier, followed by an illusion.

Then, it crouched low, as if to hide. Most would have been easily fooled.

But Ian didn’t miss any of it. He saw the entire process. For some reason, he could now clearly read the flow of mana.

He wasn’t sure why, but it was helping him see through the deception.

Gritting his teeth, Ian unleashed his technique.

“Judgment, Execution!”

With a fierce sound, his blade shot forward.

──────!!!

It pierced through the barrier, tore through the illusion, and struck the Baphomet’s real neck.

There was strong resistance. Unlike its bare upper body, its neck was covered in thick, leather-like skin.

But in the end, the goat-headed demon’s head flew into the air. Simultaneously, the flames that had been burning fiercely along his blade extinguished like a snuffed candle.

The head that had been soaring through the air fell to the ground. Blood spurted from the Baphomet’s severed neck, and Ian dropped to one knee.

Something surged from within again. This time, he couldn’t hold it back.

“Urgh!”

A mouthful of dark, crimson blood spewed from his mouth. A profound sense of loss washed over him, and his strength drained away.

The backlash from the technique, combined with mana exhaustion, left him utterly spent. Staying like this would be dangerous.

He opened the small pouch at his waist and pulled out a glass vial. It was a healing potion he had prepared for emergencies.

With trembling fingers, he pushed off the cork and downed the contents. But this would only heal his internal injuries. To replenish his mana…

Ian’s gaze shifted to the Baphomet’s corpse.

A mana stone.

He would have to consume it. Although using raw mana stones could lead to mana contamination, Bane of Evil would help mitigate the risk.

Ian glanced down at the sword in his hand. The backlash from the technique hadn’t only affected his body—the blade had heated up, glowing red and melting.

“…Nothing I can do about it.”

If it were an ordinary sword, it wouldn’t have even held its shape.

Ian, now on his hands and knees, crawled toward the Baphomet’s corpse.

Blood was gushing from its severed neck, the stench of it filling the air and making him nauseous.

He pulled out a spare dagger from his waist and gripped it in reverse. But he didn’t have the strength to lift it. A curse escaped his lips.

“What do I do?”

Angelo showed no signs of waking up. As Ian panted, struggling with the situation, footsteps echoed in the distance.

Who could be coming to a place like this? His senses were dull due to his weakened state.

Ian raised his head to see who had arrived. One man. He was holding a sword and, after surveying the scene for a moment, walked over with an impressed look on his face.

“Who are you? Don’t come any closer.”

The warning meant nothing. The man observed the situation for a moment, then confidently strode forward. With a simple motion, he sliced open the Baphomet’s abdomen.

Blood gushed out, but without hesitation, the man plunged his hand inside, rummaging through the organs until he pulled out the mana stone.

Without a second thought, and seemingly with no greed in his heart, he extended the stone toward Ian.

“……”

“Eat it. This is what you needed, wasn’t it?”

His voice was cold and indifferent. Ian didn’t have the luxury to refuse.

With difficulty, Ian reached out, took the mana stone, and put it in his mouth.

The disgusting taste lingered on his tongue as the stone melted, and the much-needed mana began to rapidly infuse his weakened body.

The flow was rough, but manageable.

A few moments later, the dizziness faded, and the searing pain in his body subsided.

“Haa.”

He could breathe again. For a moment, he thought he’d die even after defeating the Baphomet.

Ian slumped down, eventually lying flat on the ground. He didn’t have the strength to even sit up.

Though it felt like he could pass out right there, it wouldn’t be right to do so in front of his savior.

He turned his head to look at the man, who was wiping the blood off his hands.

“Thanks. I don’t know who you are, but you helped me catch my breath.”

“Is that so?”

A curt reply. It didn’t matter. The man had selflessly handed over the mana stone, something that would’ve tempted most. Ian could only be grateful.

The man briefly checked on Angelo’s condition and then returned.

“Is he okay? He took a pretty bad hit to the stomach.”

“He’ll be fine. He’s only unconscious. Once he wakes up, he’ll be in pain, but a few days of rest should do the trick.”

“That’s a relief.”

“Yes, it’s really fortunate. You were lucky. You managed to hunt a dangerous beast without losing anyone.”

Lucky, huh? Ian had heard that word enough times to wonder if he really was lucky after all. He didn’t feel like agreeing with it.

“What’s your name?”

“Why are you asking?”

“Baphomet is a dangerous creature. Even though the one here wasn’t fully grown, that doesn’t mean its threat was any less real. Whether you meant to or not, by killing it, you saved countless lives and protected this land. I think that’s worth knowing your name.”

“If you put it that way, I guess there’s no reason not to tell you. It’s Ian. That’s my name.”

“…Ian? Hmm, are you perhaps the third son of Berger?”

Ian blinked, then let out a small laugh.

“Am I that famous? I only said my name, and now some guy I’ve never met knows who I am.”

“You’re a popular topic in the East. Your name comes up often, even in idle chatter. If someone hasn’t heard of you, they’re probably not from this region.”

Famous, huh? It didn’t bring much joy. Ian slowly recalled the rumors surrounding him.

“Yeah, I guess I’m an easy target for gossip. I get it. But it’s still uncomfortable. Should I change my name or use an alias?”

“I think it would be better if you didn’t do either.”

“Why?”

“A name represents the impact you have on the world.”

Huh, he’d heard that before. A hero had said something similar.

“I know, but my name’s infamous for all the wrong reasons.”

“That’s true. But that’s also an opportunity. If many people already know your name, you have the chance to gradually change that negative perception into a positive one.”

“Prejudices don’t just go away so easily.”

“From what I’ve seen, I think it’s possible. After all, I just revised my opinion of you a moment ago… for the better, of course.”

Ian smiled wide enough to show his gums.

“That’s nice to hear. Do you want something from me? Since you helped me, it feels like I should repay you.”

“…Would you give me the carcass of the beast if I asked for it?”

“I can’t give you all of it, but I can offer you a portion.”

“Hmm, you’ll regret it.”

“I don’t mind.”

To be blunt, if this guy had attacked while Ian was suffering from mana exhaustion, he wouldn’t have been able to resist at all and would’ve been killed on the spot.

Angelo was still unconscious with no sign of waking up, and there was no one around to call for help in the middle of this forest.

Given how close he’d come to death, he didn’t feel the need to be stingy with the beast’s corpse, especially after the man had given him the mana stone.

The man seemed to hesitate for a moment.

“Would the head alone be enough to prove the beast was hunted?”

“It should be. Who would mistake that face for an ordinary goat?”

Just the wickedly twisted horns alone weren’t normal.

The mana it contained was also anything but ordinary. Anyone familiar with Baphomet would recognize it immediately.

“In that case, I’d like the body.”

“Which part?”

“All of it.”

“Hah, greedy, aren’t you?”

“Is that a problem?”

His expression suggested Ian could refuse if he wanted to.

Ian quickly thought about which parts of the Baphomet’s body held the most value. Other than the hide from the lower body or the hooves, the rest of the carcass wasn’t particularly useful.

The most important parts were the head and horns, so if the man wanted the rest, Ian didn’t mind handing it over.

After a brief pause, Ian shook his head and answered decisively.

“No, take it. It’s all yours.”

The man seemed a bit guilty, his face showing a hint of apology, though it didn’t suit him much.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t expect me to help carry it. You’re on your own.”

“That’s fine. I’ll dispose of it right here.”

“Dispose of it? What do you mean, ‘dispose of it’? Of what?”

Ian asked in a puzzled tone, but the man didn’t respond.

Instead, he plunged his sword back into the Baphomet’s body.

Immediately, a brilliant golden light began to emanate from the blade, and the Baphomet’s flesh crumbled into fine dust, disintegrating like sand.

Seeing this, Ian shot upright. He had seen this exact sight before.

To be precise, before his return. Turning beasts into light—there was only one kind of person capable of doing this.

“…A hero.”

———