Regressor of the Fallen Family

Chapter 225

Just three days ago, I heard the news about the revolt, but I never knew waiting for this period would be so agonizing. Logan McLain.”

From atop the throne, the king lifted his cup of alcohol, his face briefly contorted with madness. The knights of McLain surrounding him paid no attention to anything but Logan. With a stern complexion, Logan walked slowly forward, surrounded by their gazes.

Step by step.

He stopped right before the king and looked straight into his blue eyes. The eyes were bloodshot but unshaken, not like those of a man intoxicated.

That sparked the question.

“…Why did you do such a thing, Your Majesty?”

Without hiding the murderous intent brewing within him, though maintaining a courteous demeanor, Logan spoke. If the king wasn’t intoxicated…

‘Then it’s an even bigger problem if he did this in a sober state.’

“Your Majesty? You still honor me with such a title even in this predicament. What an honor.”

The king faced Logan’s murderous intention squarely, his expression pale but sneering nonetheless. An act truly impossible for someone dependent on drugs. Logan’s expression hardened even more.

“…Without such incidents, you could have continued to be addressed that way.”

“Indeed, if I had just obeyed you like a puppet.”

“It’s for the sake of the country.”

“The country? More like for your own sake. Don’t make excuses.”

“Do you really think they are just excuses?”

Logan’s tone was calm but firm, his eyes red and burning with resolve. The king’s complexion paled further in confrontation.

“But…the king gritted his teeth and raised his voice.”

“Wielding the excuse of the nation’s good while the vassal holds all the power and won’t let go? Ha, do you know what history calls such people? People like you are…”

His face, previously pale, turned red with rage and he glared at Logan before continuing.

“…called traitors!”

Taken aback by the king’s unexpected accusation, Logan faltered, but the king shouted once more.

“Or should I call you a tyrant, Logan McLain? Ambitious enough to kill me and declare yourself king! Ha ha ha!”

Despair and madness were evident in the king’s laughter. Yet, Logan remained steadfast.

“A tyrant… The true tyrant is a king who incites war simply because he finds his vassal displeasing.”

Had the king been incapacitated by drugs to the point of irrationality, Logan would have considered confining him while sparing his life.

But if not…

*Shing.*

‘Death.’

Flames ignited in Logan’s eyes, and his drawn sword blazed with a golden aura. Even confronted with the aura of a superhuman, the king seemed tickled rather than fearful, chuckling to himself.

“Ha ha ha. Yes, that’s your true nature. Kill me because I displease you. Wouldn’t it be nice if you were as honest in your words as in your actions? Ha ha ha.”

“…Are those your last words?”

The mocking king paused as the blade drew near his gaze.

Then,

“Heh heh. To think, the tyrant that killed his own master for ambition wonders what I’ll do next. Such a pity I won’t live to see the aftermath.”

The king spat venomous words as blood spilled from his mouth.

“Poison?!”

Realization dawned on Logan’s face as the king smirked one last time.

“Heh, heh heh. I will die a king. At least, let me decide my end…”

The king’s complexion turned ashen swiftly, and Logan could only stare at the lifeless body for some time.

* * *

Within a windowless stone chamber, Cleo took out a fist-sized orb from within his robes. The only source of light in the dark chamber emanated from the orb. Imbuing it with an encrypted mana pattern, a faint blue light began to flicker, and a familiar illusion, the only connection to his past life, was projected.

Without hesitation, Cleo kneeled upon seeing the illusion and whispered.

“Crow Number 3 reporting, Your Majesty.”

The illusion, observing Cleo’s prostrated form, slowly began to speak.

“Speak.”

“The second civil war in Grandia ended much sooner than anticipated. It was resolved so quickly that I had no choice but to escape.”

His excuses were cut short as the projection asked simply,

“The king?”

“…I attempted to bring him but failed due to his strong will. It wasn’t the situation to mobilize ‘Ghosts’, and I couldn’t force him. I apologize.”

“Heh, failed…? I suppose the chaos in Grandia will be settled quicker than anticipated. This is troubling…”

“My apologies, Your Majesty.”

The voice of the Second Prince, albeit cold, seemed to carry less weight as Cleo bowed deeper.

However, the prince merely clicked his tongue and continued observing him from above. The ensuing silence hung heavy until the prince finally issued another command.

“…Gather all the relevant documentation from this operation and come to Ruusvelheim. After reviewing it, I will provide further instructions.”

Cleo immediately answered without delay and, with another bow, the chamber returned to its tranquil silence.

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