The Regressor Wants to Become a Hero

Fiiing─────!

A streak of light sharply etched across the air. It was hard to believe that it had been fired without any visible medium, like a bowstring.

The destructive wind emanating from the eight spearheads spiraled in a vortex, burrowing into the open mouth of the Black Dragon.

Kwakakakakakakakakak───!!!

The skull, crafted from the sacrifices of thousands and tens of thousands of monsters, was being crushed on the spot.

Even the teeth, coated with magic, were being torn apart like paper—a sight that seemed utterly surreal.

Only a magic stone, the size of a fist, remained intact.

Thud!

Ian landed rather clumsily on the ground.

Having jumped with all his strength and used his skill to ascend into the sky, he had fallen straight down, only slightly slowing his descent at the last moment. The result was inevitable.

Moreover, he had poured almost all his magic into Parmael.

“Urgh!”

As a side effect, Ian’s complexion had turned pale.

Magic depletion—he had experienced this symptom several times before, but it never became something he could easily get used to.

His stomach churned, and eventually, he began dry-heaving.

“Uweeeeck!”

“……?”

Hearing the sound of someone else retching nearby, Ian turned his head. There, Dior, having removed his helmet, was vomiting as well.

Yes, the one who truly had a hard time was someone else.

Not only had Dior faced the Black Dragon head-on, but he had also severed its tail and wings, neutralizing it.

With a bitter smile, Ian wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stood up. There was still work to be done.

The Black Dragon’s magic stone was still intact. Though it had likely consumed a significant amount of its magic, that could be restored over time, so it needed to be retrieved or destroyed immediately.

“Hoo.”

He raised his head. There was no need to search for the magic stone.

Amid the shattered bones, it was faintly glowing, surrounded by a violet barrier.

Dragging his tired body, Ian approached. The magic stone shimmered, with sparks crackling over the barrier as if it still had some resistance left.

Pzzzzzzzt!

Before it could strike, Ian swung his sword down, as though chopping wood.

Slice!

The barrier split apart and dissolved into thin air.

[Bane of Evil, Sixth Form: Partial Flame Armor Deployment]

Whoosh—

With his hand engulfed in flames, Ian reached out and seized the exposed magic stone.

Fiiing!

Along with a faint resistance, a sinister force pricked his palm like a needle. Just as Ian was about to dismiss it as a feeble last-ditch effort, he suddenly felt a dizzying sensation and staggered.

“Haaa.”

A charming, sweet voice softly whispered into his ear. An incongruous scent, not fitting the atmosphere or situation, lingered faintly around his nose.

“……!”

Ian snapped his head around. A woman with a seductive body and a face as beautiful as her voice stood right in front of him.

Her attire was exceedingly provocative. The surreal sight jolted him back to his senses.

Embarrassed by his momentary lapse, Ian swung his sword without hesitation.

───!

The woman made no attempt to dodge.

The sharp blade cut through her exposed skin, but no blood spurted out.

There was no sensation of cutting her. She approached as if nothing had happened.

Ian flinched and stepped back. The woman chuckled.

“Haa, really.”

Her voice was clear, her gaze sharp, yet there was no presence. She was definitely not real.

Dior, who had finished vomiting and was now sitting down, looked at Ian with a puzzled expression, as if wondering what he was doing.

Even the Red Spear Knights were approaching without any sign of alarm.

‘Can they not see her?’

Ian realized the truth.

‘Then, this must be an illusion interfering with my mind.’

It seemed like he might be going crazy, but the star shining in his mind like a lighthouse over the dark sea was gleaming brightly.

Recognizing this, his briefly shaken heart calmed.

He had an idea of the cause. It was undoubtedly related to the pain he had felt when grabbing the magic stone earlier.

This woman would likely disappear with time. But before that, there were a few things he needed to confirm.

The woman was the first to speak.

“That’s mine.”

“You mean this?”

When Ian raised his hand, holding the magic stone, the woman nodded.

“Yes, that! Do you know how much I suffered to make even that small thing? After a long wait, I was finally about to see the fruits of my labor, and now you’re trying to take it?”

“If it was that precious, you should have guarded it better.”

“Hah, unbelievable. You barge into someone else’s domain, destroy everything, and now you’re telling me I should’ve kept better guard? Do thieves these days break into houses, get caught, and then say something like that? The world’s gone mad, seriously.”

“……”

“I’ll give you one last chance. Leave it and walk away. I’ll overlook this just once.”

“Hm, that’ll be difficult. Eivia.”

The Dark Mage, Eivia, widened her eyes.

“What? You know me?”

“How could I not? The Witch of Sandrea, the Regicide.”

Before his return, the necromancer who controlled the Death Dragon wasn’t just one person.

The Death Dragon was an object of authority and admiration among Dark Mages, and many sought to create one. Some even succeeded in making something similar.

However, the only woman among them was the Witch of Sandrea, the Regicide.

“Eivia.”

When her name was spoken, the woman let out a deep laugh. Her wide smile seemed to brighten the surroundings.

But knowing her identity, Ian felt like a snake was lurking beneath that brightening atmosphere.

“Aha. If you know who I am, shouldn’t you be even more inclined to do as I say?”

“No. Knowing you’re Eivia makes it all the more impossible.”

At Ian’s firm response, Eivia’s eyes twitched slightly.

“You… I really don’t like you. I’d love nothing more than to crush you.”

“Aha.”

“Aha?”

Ian slowly curled the corners of his mouth into a smirk.

“Hearing you say that puts me at ease. It seems like all you can do right now is show yourself.”

“……”

“Judging by your silence, you must be too far away to do anything immediately. That’s why you’re making empty threats.”

“Wow. Are they really empty threats? You’re right, I can’t be there right now. But my eyes are on this place.”

Eivia glanced around, scanning the surroundings.

“The Red Spear Knights, the Blue Flower Knights, and the priests from Upfire, right? As for the mercenaries, there’s no one worth paying attention to… except for you. I’ll remember this. Especially you. If we meet again, you’d better be prepared. I won’t let you off easily.”

“Oh. That’s kind of scary. Guess I should stay hidden.”

“You’re really brazen. What makes you so cocky when you can’t even harness your own spiritual energy? Did you think defeating a dragon remnant makes you invincible?”

“A remnant, huh. It did seem incomplete, but should a necromancer speak so lightly of the Death Dragon?”

Ian’s lips suddenly twisted.

“Who would’ve thought I’d be defending the Death Dragon, and I’m not even a Dark Mage.”

“What? You seriously thought that thing was a true Death Dragon? I hate to break it to you. You thought you made an achievement? Too bad. It really was just a remnant. I merely gathered a handful of resentment and shattered souls from this land to mimic Blackfang the Death Dragon. Ha, why am I even explaining this?”

Eivia sighed as if realizing it was pointless to argue further.

Though she merely crossed her arms and sighed, the atmosphere became much heavier.

Knowing who she was, every small movement seemed to carry weight. And it wasn’t just his imagination.

“What a waste of time. The conversation ends here.”

With that, Eivia’s body began to dissolve from the hem of her clothes.

If she’d quietly retreated at this point, Ian couldn’t have asked for more. Unfortunately, it seemed she had no intention of doing so.

She kept her gaze fixed on Ian, as if remembering something she had forgotten, and then spoke.

“Oh, right.”

Eivia lifted her left foot, which she had extended forward, slightly off the ground and set it back down.

Tock

Sensing something suspicious, Ian looked down. The remaining mana in the magic stone he was holding was rapidly draining.

“Shall I give you a parting gift before I go? It’s pathetic that you believed a remnant was a true Dragon, so don’t refuse it. I’ll show you what a real Dragon is. I hope you enjoy it.”

Whoooooosh!

A fierce wind whipped through the air, and then Eivia disappeared without a trace. A black light quickly gathered in the sky, and before long, a massive Dragon appeared, so enormous that Ian had to crane his neck just to see it. The creature’s immense frame towered overhead, its massive white fangs gleaming menacingly.

The sight of it struck everyone with a chilling recognition, as they silently uttered the name that came to mind.

The Black Dragon, Whitefang.

Without a doubt, this was the real thing.

The overwhelming presence of this Dragon far surpassed the Death Dragon they had struggled to defeat. Some of the knights instinctively took a step back.

Yet among them, there were those who knew what had to be done.

“Prepare for battle!”

“To battle!”

At someone’s shout, the knights around them echoed the command.

Even as the Black Dragon’s gaze slowly swept across the field, they were too busy forming ranks to give in to fear.

“Huh.”

Watching the knights bravely standing their ground rather than fleeing, Ian felt a strange sensation stir in his heart.

He couldn’t help but admire their resolve, their refusal to give in to despair or hopelessness. However, this was merely a meticulously crafted illusion.

The Dragon reared its head back, inhaling deeply.

Seeing this, Ian gathered flames into his right hand and waved them above his head.

Fwoooosh!

The red-hot flames roared to life, engulfing the Black Dragon.

The sight left the knights bewildered.

“Wait, something’s not right.”

“It’s distorting. And it’s stopped moving.”

“Since when did Dragons burn so easily?”

Most of them had acted instinctively, driven by the psychological pressure of the moment.

But once they noticed something was amiss, their fear began to dissipate, and they relaxed, coming back to their senses.

The flames that had consumed the Dragon slowly died out as there was nothing left to burn.

Watching the knights’ deflated expressions, Ian glanced down at the magic stone in his hand.

Though it still held a sinister aura, its depleted mana meant it had little effect now.

‘…Impressive.’

The small, palm-sized magic stone was highly pure, serving as a vessel. In time, its empty reserves would refill.

However, since the original material had been crafted using the blood and souls of monsters, it couldn’t be used immediately.

If it could be purified, though, it could serve as a power source for golems or artifacts, so that should be a priority.

The only issue was that there weren’t many who could purify such a wicked magic stone.

One person came to mind right away—the Archbishop of Gawon at the Pantheon—but there was someone much closer.

The Inquisitor, Eor Al Democia.

I should go see him.

***

In the fortress of Gehiel, built upon the ruins of a city, a man dressed in priestly robes sat in a room, lost in thought, his eyes sunken.

“Sir Eor.”

The priest behind him cautiously called his name.

Eor Al Democia, the Inquisitor serving the Lord of Flames, Rahania, did not respond.

His gaze remained fixed on the magic stone placed on the old table in front of him.

The shadowy glow of the stone made the dimly lit room feel even more oppressive, and the priest could hear faint, eerie echoes.

-Aaaaaaaaagh!

It sounded like a person’s scream, or perhaps the wail of a beast. Either way, it was not a sound anyone wanted to hear.

And from the priest’s startled reaction, it seemed he had heard it too.

“H-huh?!”

———