The Regressor Wants to Become a Hero

Chapter 121

He could feel their gazes focusing on him.

Two White Owls. He would subdue the remaining one before they could grasp the situation and charge.

There was enough time. Leaving the dagger embedded as it was, he struck his opponent’s neck.

“Guk!”

With a short groan, he saw the strength drain from his opponent’s body.

Watching as they crumpled to their knees and collapsed, he turned his head. The remaining White Owl stood awkwardly, almost having drawn their sword.

They had frozen upon witnessing their comrade being subdued in an instant.

Ian nodded as he looked at them.

“You made the right choice. If you’d tried to help, you wouldn’t have fared well either.”

These weren’t real White Owls. They were far too different from what he remembered.

The mana spilling out during their body enhancement was rough and unstable, a phenomenon that occurred when a mana user’s skill level was low.

Dressed in white martial uniforms and masks, merely borrowing the name of the White Owls, they were no better than ruffian mercenaries.

‘A picture starts to form.’

The reason the White Owl Mercenary Corps was escorting the Silver Wave Trading Company was likely to advertise their activities to the public.

The white masks might be intended to foster a sense of belonging among their mercenaries, but it could also be a measure to maintain secrecy about who came and went within their ranks.

‘It would also conveniently hide their blackened eye sockets.’

Drawing a sword against a Level 6, someone of Sovereign rank, might even be an act for show.

If they earned the reputation of being lunatics who drew their swords against anyone, it would help conceal the belligerent nature inherent to the Battle Wraiths.

“What do you want?”

His voice was low, but he already looked as though he was terrified.

“I don’t want anything. I just need to confirm one thing.”

Ian looked down indifferently at the unconscious White Owl, as if he had no interest in the other.

In their outstretched hand, revealed as they passed out, he noticed a ring. He crouched down and removed it.

“I don’t know why you’d covet that, but it’s not some kind of artifact.”

“I know. It’s proof of your affiliation, isn’t it?”

The ring held no mana, but it was identical to the one he had taken from the Battle Wraith.

From its design to the pattern engraved on it, it was the same. The only difference was the lack of a background behind the bird with spread wings.

If the rings had been identical, he might have dismissed it as a coincidence that the Battle Wraith had been carrying the ring. But with this, suspicion was unavoidable.

“If the ring was your objective, why didn’t you ask to see it from the start?”

“You think guys who draw their swords just because someone glances at them would’ve shown me?”

“…Is that all you’re after?”

Ian gazed at the ring in his hand and replied.

“I want to know where your mercenary group’s base is. Where should I go?”

“If it’s a request you’re after, why not go to the guild?”

“You don’t take requests through the guild.”

Ian reached into his pocket.

“!”

The sudden action startled the remaining White Owl. Worried he might draw another dagger, they flinched and eventually drew their sword.

However, what Ian pulled out wasn’t a sharp blade but a single gleaming gold coin.

It was too extravagant for mere payment, but for ordinary mercenaries, such a significant amount could easily cloud their judgment.

Just one coin, but gold had that kind of power.

Ting!

The White Owl couldn’t resist the allure of the mysterious power and caught the gold coin with a crisp, ringing sound as it flew toward them.

“What does this mean? Payment for treatment?”

“Use it as you see fit.”

“…Do you think giving me this will make me tell someone as suspicious as you anything?”

“If you think it’s insufficient, return it. Regardless, there are plenty who would reveal the location or size of your mercenary group for just one gold coin.”

The mercenary guild staff in Lus was an anomaly. Who else would consider the location of a mercenary base something to be kept secret?

The White Owl also knew this was a profitable trade and not something to be criticized. They sheathed the sword they had drawn.

“Head to the forest outside the southern gate. Follow the path, and you’ll find it—it’s not hard to locate. We’re practically the only ones using it as a base.”

“Lying wouldn’t end well for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve also heard rumors that the base was recently moved near Animi Fortress.”

The White Owl shot him an incredulous look.

“If you know that much, why are you even asking me? Yes, it’s true the base has moved, but those who aren’t at Level 5 remain here and continue operations. Otherwise, why would we be guarding this place?”

Ian smirked.

“I’m sure you have your reasons.”

He had no further business with them.

***

He visited the temple.

He grabbed Eor, who had been leisurely chatting with the bishop over tea, and headed toward the southern gate.

Ian glanced at the Arbiter. Inside the building, his face had been bright, but as soon as they stepped outside, he began to look haggard.

Watching him visibly weaken as though suffering from some addiction was fascinating.

Dragging his feet like a defeated soldier, he pushed through the bustling crowd and finally straightened his slumped shoulders once they passed through the city gate.

“Whew, much better now.”

Ian chuckled.

“Are you worn out from the crowd or from being outside?”

“Both, if I must say.”

It was unexpected. Ian’s memory of him was as a hero who summoned towering flames with immense mana.

The man who had dominated the battlefield, inspiring awe, now looked like nothing more than a patient.

Without the priestly robes embroidered with golden thread, no one would have guessed he was the Arbiter.

On closer inspection, he didn’t seem suited for the Upheaval at all.

While he seemed well-aligned with a life of faith, perhaps he should have followed a more static Sovereign rather than the Upheaval.

Swallowing back words that rose to his throat, Ian watched as the Arbiter turned to ask him a question.

“What about your errand in the market? Was it resolved?”

“Hmm. It wasn’t unfruitful.”

Ian handed him two rings.

One was the ring taken from the Battle Wraith. The other was the one taken from the White Owl.

Examining both in turn, Eor nodded. It was hard to dismiss the similarity as mere coincidence.

“They’re clearly related. What do you plan to do now? Visiting their base directly and questioning them might not be the best choice. It’ll raise suspicions unless this ring merely signifies elite status.”

“That would be even better. It’d save me the trouble of prying.”

To be honest, dealing with people was exhausting in many ways.

Without clear and definitive evidence, one cannot justify searching every corner just because something seems suspicious.

If the opponent were a monster, there would be no need for such complications—you could simply fight them.

“We must refrain from spilling human blood. Always remember, our enemy is the Outer World, not humanity,” Eor said.

“And if that opponent is a Battle Wraith, Arbiter?”

“You ask the obvious. In that case, it must be burned. Evil can be purified with fire. Only when reduced to ash can it be considered truly clean.”

The chilling words were spoken with utter nonchalance. But they were not mere rhetoric.

The title of Arbiter isn’t given lightly—it is granted only to those who have achieved great feats and dedicated themselves to the All-God.

He must have burned countless things in the past and would continue to do so in the future.

Ian smirked faintly.

“Indeed, it was an obvious question.”

Having him as an ally was immensely reassuring.

Regardless of his haggard face and lethargic demeanor, traveling with a hero carried its own sense of security.

As they exchanged idle conversation, they reached the encampment of the White Owl Mercenary Corps.

Smoke rose into the evening sky—perhaps preparations for dinner—and a cacophony of sounds echoed from within.

“Do you have a plan?” Eor asked.

“No.”

“…Pardon?”

Eor rarely showed surprise, but his expression faltered.

“Even if I walk in and ask, ‘Are you connected to the Battle Wraith?’ do you think they’d tell me? They’d either feign ignorance or outright deny it. So I plan to sneak in and find out myself.”

“You’re planning a covert operation but boldly strolling down the main road? Dozens of people must have already seen you.”

“It’s not an iss—”

Ian paused, reconsidering. Earlier, at the Silver Wave Trading Company, he’d caused a scene.

He had fought the White Owl mercenaries head-on, and some people must have witnessed it.

Not to mention, he had even paid them gold to confirm the location of their base.

Although these factors could be troublesome, he dismissed them. Traveling with the Arbiter meant he could likely navigate any setbacks.

“It’s fine. If anyone asks, I’ll just deny everything.”

Ian began removing anything that could identify him.

First, he took off the golden insignia pinned to his collar. It provided a small enhancement to physical abilities, so he usually kept it on, but it wasn’t necessary now.

He stored it securely in his pocket and pulled out a wooden mask from his ring.

It was a gift from Bellen. While Aviya had seen through it immediately, there shouldn’t be any issues in a place like this.

He put away the holy sword and took out the black blade.

“…”

Eor’s gaze lingered on the black sword at Ian’s waist.

Even sheathed, it exuded faint traces of dark mana.

Noticing Eor’s furrowed brow, Ian quickly spoke.

“I plan to return it soon.”

“…That would be wise. Unlike the ‘Holy Sword,’ that weapon corrupts its user.”

Ian flinched. As expected, Eor had noticed.

It wasn’t surprising—he had recognized the sword as a cursed weapon despite its unassuming appearance.

That he hadn’t asked about the source of the holy sword suggested he assumed Ian had come by it through some happenstance, given his golden insignia and connection to heroes.

“Are you planning to keep your current attire?” Eor asked.

“…Yes.”

Eor clicked his tongue in mild exasperation.

The ring obtained from the Green Tower limited the number of items that could be stored in Gratius’s subspace to six, so Ian couldn’t bring additional clothing.

While he could use a box or bag to store items as a workaround, such methods were neither convenient nor practical due to weight limitations.

Eor was visibly displeased with Ian’s half-baked preparedness.

“At least wear this,” he said, handing over his robe.

It appeared to be a simple coat that one might find in any ordinary clothing store, but it carried a faint magical aura.

“This robe is enchanted to lower perception of the wearer—it should be useful. But just to confirm, have you ever attempted an infiltration before?”

In response, Ian deftly suppressed his presence, reducing his footsteps and aura to near invisibility.

While not something to boast about, this was a skill he had honed out of necessity—crossing the territories of monsters with extremely keen detection abilities demanded it.

“What would you have me do?” Eor asked.

“You can rest here.”

“…If this is all I’m supposed to do, was there really any need to bring me out of the temple where I was resting peacefully?”

“Who knows? I might end up in danger.”

Considering how Ian frequently found himself embroiled in peril during his outings, his decision to bring Eor along could be seen as precautionary.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen someone so boldly exploit an Arbiter.”

“I’ll take that as an honor. But if you feel indignant, please step in if things take a turn for the worse.”

Ian left the sighing Eor by the roadside and made his way alone toward the encampment.

Tall wooden palisades, crafted from thick logs, stood in his path, preventing any outside view of the interior.

Adjusting the wooden mask securely on his face and pulling the hood of the robe low over his head, Ian leaped silently onto the top of the barricade.

Although his eyes couldn’t see beyond the wall, he knew no one was on the other side, so he moved without hesitation.

———

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