The Regressor Wants to Become a Hero

Chapter 47

The old man chuckled softly.

“How foolish. Do you think I cannot curse you just because I don’t know your name? At this very moment, I could cast a curse on you simply by pointing at you. Yet, I refrain, because you showed me respect. Thus, I return the favor.”

“…”

“And do you truly believe I’ll never learn your name if you conceal it? Now that I’ve taken an interest in you, whether sooner or later, I will find out. So, spare us both the trouble and tell me openly. I, Riorg Ribella, swear on the Outer Gods of the Ten Thousand Demon War that I will not use your name to cast a curse here and now.”

Riorg Ribella?

Ian furrowed his brow. Wasn’t that the name of the Dark Mage who would bring nightmares upon humanity?

His infamy was so widespread that even Ian couldn’t forget. Of course, this was a name that would only be known in the future. At present, he hadn’t yet made his mark. However, that wasn’t a good sign. When Ian remained silent, the old man pressed further.

“Will you not speak?”

“I don’t know why you’re so interested in my name, but fine. I’ll tell you.”

Since he mentioned the Outer Gods, he likely wouldn’t resort to cursing.

‘Not that he’d need a curse to kill someone like me anyway.’

With that in mind, Ian revealed his name without hesitation.

“Ian. Ian Berger.”

“…Ian, Berger? Ah, so it is you.”

As if they had just met, the old man’s face lit up with recognition. He continued speaking.

“Do you remember the name Yan Etodi? Don’t say you don’t. He’s the one who pulled your reputation out from the bottom of the lake. He’s the friend who brought it back to the surface.”

Of course, Ian remembered. Yan Etodi was the first Dark Mage he encountered after his return to the past.

Ian almost nodded instinctively but swallowed hard instead. The old man’s aura was growing more oppressive, gradually suffocating the space around them.

Ian could feel the conversation nearing its end, as the atmosphere became heavier.

“Yan Etodi, he was one of my disciples.”

Ian inhaled slowly, feeling suffocated.

Could he win?

Could he survive?

‘Against Riorg Ribella?’

No. The odds were impossible. He couldn’t even consider victory.

The only people he could rely on were Mael and Mari, but no matter how talented those two were, they had no chance against an opponent several levels above them. The same was true for the other Red Spear knights.

‘I’m going to die here.’

The thought of requesting reinforcements before entering crossed his mind, but it was unlikely they would arrive in time.

Still, surrendering wasn’t an option. He had to try something, no matter what. Anxiety and fear gripped his heart tighter with each passing moment.

‘There’s only one option.’

A surprise attack. That was his only hope. The old man, acting as if he knew nothing, kept talking about his fallen disciple’s past.

It wasn’t a story Ian cared about. Who didn’t have their own history?

“…He was a rather useful fellow. Talented too. He knew how to respect and honor his master.”

The old man, his face showing a hint of nostalgia, glanced down once more at the headless corpse.

“Unlike this foolish and disrespectful one here. That’s why I cherished him.”

His gaze was turned away. Now was the chance. Ian made his decision, adjusted his grip on his sword, and leaned forward.

He gathered his mana and kicked off the ground, reaching the old man in an instant.

He had to kill him in one blow. If he failed, then the one to die here would be—

‘Me!’

With all his strength, driven by the single intent to sever his opponent’s throat, Ian swung his sword.

The old man turned his head, but his reaction was too slow. The trajectory of Ian’s sword was flawless, sharp enough to easily sever the old man’s neck.

However.

Clang!

The blade never reached the old man.

“!”

Something invisible had blocked the strike. It wasn’t a magical barrier.

‘…A sword?’

Just as the thought crossed Ian’s mind, a figure cloaked in black cloth slowly materialized in the air. A skeleton with menacing, glowing red eyes in its hollow sockets appeared. Its presence was terrifying.

Sweat poured down Ian’s face. He hadn’t even sensed such a creature lurking nearby. The old man spoke.

“But you did kill my beloved disciple.”

With those words, the skeleton deflected Ian’s sword. The force was so strong that Ian had to retreat two steps. The skeleton, however, didn’t hesitate to continue its assault.

“Ugh!”

It wasn’t just mindless swinging. It was as if the skeleton knew proper swordsmanship. Each strike sent shivers down Ian’s spine, the sword’s pressure climbing up his own blade.

‘It’s strong!’

He barely dodged the next blow, which aimed straight for his head. The skeleton’s strength was undeniable; blocking head-on was something Ian knew to avoid at all costs.

In an instant, more than ten exchanges passed between them.

The armor Ian wore was sliced by the sword’s aura with every brush, and blood seeped from his wounds. Fortunately, there didn’t seem to be any poison on the blade.

Ian managed to retreat, or rather, he was forced back as if being thrown away.

“Huff…!”

Ian panted heavily.

‘It hurts.’

He couldn’t help but think it. His hands were torn, and just the brief contact with the skeleton made his body throb with pain, as if he had been battered all over.

The pain reminded him that he was still alive, though it was far from a relief. He didn’t have much time left. The old man clicked his tongue.

“You’ve done well, to hold out against Sir Gallan. But, unfortunately, I have no intention of sparing you. After all, you’ve killed not one, but two of my disciples. So, it’s only fitting that you die as well.”

Ian ignored the old man’s words and raised his sword, aiming it at the skeleton. But his arms trembled, and the tip of his blade wavered.

‘Damn it.’

Cursing under his breath, Ian realized there was no one coming to help him.

“Sir Gallan, end this.”

Ian blinked. In that instant, the skeleton beside the old man vanished. He hadn’t even caught the movement.

But there was no need to search for it. The skeleton had reappeared directly in front of him, its sword raised high, ready to strike down.

A single step.

If Ian moved to the side, he could dodge it. He could see the attack coming, but his body was frozen, stiff, unable to move.

‘Am I going to die like this?’

In just a few moments, the sword would cleave him in two.

Death was approaching. Fear surged within Ian, but he didn’t close his eyes. Instead, he stared straight at the descending blade.

This couldn’t be the end. He couldn’t accept such a meaningless death. His eyes flashed as he tried to summon his strength and respond in that final moment.

Boom!

A deafening explosion echoed. At the same time, someone grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him backward. The force pulled his body down, and he fell heavily onto his rear.

Clang!

Ian, still sitting on the ground, quickly raised his head. In front of him, a knight clad in old armor and a worn helmet was standing firm, wielding an ordinary sword against the skeleton.

Clang, clang, clang!

Sharp clashes echoed through the air. Ian watched, wide-eyed and stunned, unable to tear his gaze away.

The knight’s swordsmanship was remarkably clean and swift. Every strike from the skeleton, whether a thrust or a slash, was effortlessly parried and deflected.

In the end, it was the skeleton that retreated first.

The knight didn’t pursue it. The old man, watching from the sidelines, scowled in disapproval.

“Who are you? You don’t seem to be one of their comrades.”

“Hero.”

The knight responded in a cheerful voice, as if waiting for the question. His casual tone was almost playful, which only deepened the old man’s frown.

“A hero, you say? Amusing. You seem capable, but if you’re going to impersonate someone, shouldn’t you choose something more believable?”

“Impersonate? You think I’m pretending?”

“Shall I fetch you a mirror? No one would ever mistake your appearance for that of a hero.”

The knight glanced down at his own outfit and then shrugged, as if baffled by the criticism.

“What’s wrong with this? Is there some rule that says a hero must wield a shining holy sword and wear extravagant armor? That kind of narrow-minded thinking isn’t good for you. If there were such a rule, I wouldn’t be standing here, would I? Oh, right! You must be curious as to how I ended up here.”

“……”

“If I were to explain, it’d be a long story, but to keep it short, I got captured by a Dark Mage. He took one look at me and declared he’d use me as a material for necromancy. Isn’t that hilarious?”

“……”

“Using a hero as necromantic material… I mean, sure, I’d make top-tier material. There are only twelve of us in the entire world, after all.”

“……”

“So, I played along. I’m pretty good at acting, you know? After dealing with people like you, I’ve learned how to make you believe what I want. While being dragged here, I overheard some interesting stories…”

“Enough!”

The old man sighed deeply.

“You’re incredibly chatty. If I let you keep talking, it’ll never end. Are you trying to buy time?”

“You misunderstand. I just talk a lot.”

“I see. I think I know who you are.”

“Oh? Go ahead, take a guess. Who do you think I am?”

“Gailgron, the talkative one.”

The knight chuckled. Then, a golden light began to flow from the sword in his hand.

The holy energy radiating from the blade began to purify the dark, oppressive aura that had permeated the surroundings. The once-heavy atmosphere grew clear. The knight spoke again.

“Correct, necromancer.”

“……”

“No, Riorg Ribella, the fiend of the Demon Realm. Here’s another question for you. Can you guess why I’ve been waiting for you here?”

“Let me guess… You want to defect to the Demon Realm?”

The knight laughed softly.

“Nice try, but no. I’m here to take your life. It’s sad that you’re trying to ignore the obvious. Now, as the chosen of Lord Tamrak, ruler of silence, I declare: Riorg Ribella, you are sentenced to immediate execution.”

“On what grounds?”

“Do you really need to ask? Worshipping Outer Gods alone is reason enough for your death. But if you need more, we have abductions, human experimentation, murder, arson… There’s no shortage of crimes. Your execution is inevitable.”

“Hm. I don’t find that very agreeable. I don’t accept it. So, do your best if you can. But know this—I will resist, and it won’t be easy.”

“Planning to run?”

“That’s right.”

The old man extended his hand, and instantly, a complex magic circle appeared, completing in the blink of an eye.

The knight sprang into action. However, the magic activated before he could reach it.

A violet-hued magical force swelled and surged forward with an ominous sound, sweeping through the corridor.

Kwahhhhh!

Ian’s face went pale. The power and range of the magic were enormous, far beyond what one would expect from a spell activated so suddenly.

Could he block or avoid it? No. If struck directly, it would mean death. He instinctively knew this.

His only hope was the knight before him. The knight tightened his grip on the golden sword, lifting it high.

With that, a strange ripple spread out, and the world turned gray. Astonishingly, the knight cleaved through the magic.

───

Silence. It wasn’t that his eardrums were damaged. The sound had been erased. And the magic vanished without a trace.

The old man, previously obscured by the magic, was now visible again. He showed no sign of surprise, his expression unchanged as if he had anticipated this.

The knight, having closed the distance, did not face the old man. Instead, the skeleton beside him responded with dark magic emanating from its sword.

Kwa-ka-ka-chak!

Every clash of the swords sent shards of dark magic scattering around them.

A skeleton fighting as fiercely as the hero? Ian was suspicious, but there was no time to ponder such matters.

Ian’s gaze shifted to the old man. He was casting a spell. Ian reached for a dagger, intending to disrupt the old man’s incantation. However, he hesitated as a dark shape writhed behind the old man.

‘A wraith.’

It was clear that a high-ranking dark mage wouldn’t have only one subordinate. The skeleton wasn’t ordinary, and neither was this one.

As Ian decided to throw the dagger, the wraith seemed to sense the faint murderous intent and turned its gaze toward him.

With a shiver, Ian felt dark energy gathering silently at his feet.

Startled, he moved away just in time as black spikes erupted from the ground.

Papa-pak!

If he had stayed put, he would have been skewered. Now, he couldn’t move recklessly. Meanwhile, the old man finished preparing and spoke to the knight.

“Hero Gailgron, it’s a pity you cannot fight properly due to the burden behind you. It seems my resting place is not here after all. I wish I could avenge my disciple, but my life isn’t worth risking for that. I’ll have to leave this for another day. I shall take my leave now.”

The skeleton retreated, having lost an arm and broken its sword in the brief encounter.

The knight, trying to follow the old man to finish the fight, was interrupted when the old man threw something.

A magic stone. It was large and clearly contained a tremendous amount of magical power. The old man snapped his fingers.

Thak!

The small sound turned into a chilling noise that pierced the air.

Kki-kki-kiki!

The unsettling sound drove into the knight’s mind, causing him to retreat in alarm.

Between the old man and the knight, the magic stone exploded, tearing the air apart and spilling red magic like blood. The old man grinned and said.

“A gift.”

———

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