The Last Place Hero’s Return - Chapter 5

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 5. Building the Foundation (1)
Inside my cramped Dormitory room.
I sat alone on the bed, absently touching my still-throbbing cheek, the dull ache a constant reminder.
“…What on earth just happened?”
Was this the same sensation Professor Lucas Kane had felt upon seeing me after my regression?
The stark contrast between the gentle, tender Iris I remembered and the woman who had grabbed my collar while spewing curses was jarring beyond measure.
‘My regression couldn’t possibly have affected Iris.’
There was only one plausible explanation.
“I was with her for so long, yet I never truly knew her… not even as my lover.”
I exhaled a self-deprecating sigh and clicked my tongue softly.
In hindsight, Iris had always been gentle and affectionate in her everyday demeanor, but when facing Demon Gods or demonic beasts, she displayed a ruthlessness that made observers flinch.
‘I thought it was because she was a saint of the Seven Star Church.’
To the faithful of the Seven Star Church, which worshipped seven deities, the servants of the Demon God were enemies that could never be tolerated.
So I had simply attributed her occasional ferocity to religious conviction.
‘She had that temperament all along.’
Learning truths about her that I had never grasped during our time as lovers—or rather, precisely because we were lovers—stirred conflicting emotions within me.
There was joy in discovering facets of her I had overlooked in my previous life, yet bitterness in the realization that I was now merely a stranger to her, unworthy even of pretense.
And anxiety about how I should conduct myself when encountering my other ‘former companions.’
“Come to think of it, I only know what Berald was like during the candidate days.”
Yuren, Sophia, Iris—none of them.
Though we all attended school during similar periods, I had no meaningful connections with any of them until graduation, save for Berald.
Even with Berald, we had merely crossed paths during remedial lessons as equally incompetent students; it wasn’t until well after graduation that we became true ‘companions.’
‘I should postpone visiting them for now.’
Part of me yearned to seek them out immediately.
But if my emotions overwhelmed me again like they had with Iris, I would surely make a terrible first impression—appearing as a madman from the start.
“Sigh. I need to get myself in order first before I can even think of visiting them.”
I exhaled deeply, pushing aside my longing.
Right now, reunion with my companions was not the priority.
‘First, I need to assess my current state.’
I closed my eyes and slowly drew upon my mana.
I felt a pittance of magical power spread throughout my body from the stigma at its center.
“This is pathetic.”
After surveying my physical condition through the distribution of mana, I furrowed my brow.
Still, my body retained some semblance of the conditioning expected of a hero candidate.
But it amounted to nothing more than the level of ‘an ignorant fool who simply worked hard without understanding anything.’
My upper and lower body musculature was imbalanced, and my core muscles—the most critical for combat—remained woefully underdeveloped.
‘I’ll start by rebuilding basic strength and stamina.’
Physical training was something I had learned through grueling experience under Berald (with the convenient justification that I would simply be resurrected anyway), so rebuilding my body wouldn’t be difficult.
‘The real problem is this pathetically meager mana.’
In my previous life, I had suffered immensely due to insufficient mana, but now my reserves had dwindled to an even more dire state.
“Ugh.”
No matter how refined my swordsmanship and martial techniques were, there existed a limit to what pure “skill” alone could achieve.
Mana, after all, functioned as a kind of weight class among heroes.
When this disparity became extreme, attacks could fail to land entirely.
What use was technique when a blade aimed at a vital point simply bounced off?
‘Well… it’s not as though I have no options at all.’
In my previous life, I had fought countless opponents with overwhelming mana advantages, so I possessed a few desperate measures.
But.
Why else would they be called desperate measures?
To avoid being cornered in an unfavorable situation from the start, I needed to secure at least a baseline of mana.
“In the end, I have to increase my mana somehow.”
A sigh.
A deep breath escaped between my lips.
The method heroes used to increase their mana was deceptively simple.
Seven breathing techniques, each corresponding to a particular stigma type.
By drawing divine breath into one’s body and layering it within the stigma, heroes accumulated mana—that was the mechanism.
‘Sun, moon, star, sky, earth, sea… and.’
Forest breathing as well.
I knew all seven breathing techniques.
“Tch, what good is knowing them? No matter how hard I try, mana refuses to accumulate.”
Whether it was simple lack of talent or something else entirely, I couldn’t say.
Unlike others, I was unable to build mana through breathing techniques.
‘Even accounting for individual variation in accumulation rates, not accumulating anything at all seems excessive.’
Remembering my previous life’s desperate struggles to eke out even a pittance of mana, my head already began to throb.
“Hmm… but just in case, shouldn’t I try once more?”
Perhaps something had changed with my regression.
“Inhale.”
Seated on the bed, I drew breath slowly.
Since my stigma was that of the Forest God, I would begin with the forest breathing—the most effective for mana accumulation.
Then in order: sun, moon, star, sky, earth, and sea breathing.
“Exhale.”
After completing all seven breathing techniques, I opened my eyes slowly.
And the mana accumulated in my stigma remained exactly as it was—unchanged.
“Damn it.”
Right.
I should have expected as much.
‘I’ll have to abandon the breathing technique approach to mana accumulation.’
Which left only “unconventional” methods.
Elixirs, spirit creatures, artifacts—anything that could boost mana.
Several candidates came to mind.
‘Things I can’t obtain right now.’
As a candidate, there were many restrictions on moving about, and even if I went, I couldn’t be certain whether I’d actually be able to acquire them.
“Ugh.”
In the midst of my contemplation, clutching my head.
Suddenly, a record I had once found in the Ancient Ruins came to mind.
“They said the reason mana was created was because of the Primordial Flame.”
To be precise, it was like this.
In the distant past.
The Tree of Creation grew, the world was formed, and eight gods were born.
The eight gods born by the Tree of Creation began to shape the world according to their respective principles.
The first god created the sun.
The second god created the moon.
The third god created the stars.
The fourth god created the sky.
The fifth god created the earth.
The sixth god created the sea.
The seventh god created the forest.
And the eighth and final god….
Violated the principles of creation and brought forth the first ‘flame’.
‘That is the Primordial Flame.’
The eighth god who violated the principles and betrayed the seven gods—later called the Demon God—burned the entire Tree of Creation with the Primordial Flame.
Thus, from the burning of the Tree of Creation, mana was born.
A miraculous power also called the breath of gods.
“…The Primordial Flame.”
When I regressed, the Primordial Flame I had absorbed in my previous life didn’t disappear with me—I had confirmed that before.
But I had no idea how to actually wield the ‘Primordial Flame’.
‘In my current state, I can’t even sense the spark of the Primordial Flame.’
At least if I could feel something, I could attempt to handle it.
“Let’s see… yesterday was definitely when I felt the presence of the Primordial Flame….”
Sitting on the bed, my gaze naturally drifted toward the sword I had placed at my bedside.
Damn it.
A quiet curse escaped my lips.
I exhaled a sigh and drew the sword from its sheath.
The blade that had once slashed across my throat in days past now pressed against my neck.
‘It’s not like I haven’t experienced this before.’
I was no longer afraid of death.
-Shing!
With a familiar motion, I applied more force to my grip on the sword.
A cool sensation spread across my entire body as the sharp blade bit into my neck.
Death—something I had experienced countless times.
I had never grown accustomed to this sensation—the blade burrowing through flesh.
Thud, thump.
My severed head rolled across the floor.
As blood erupted from the stump of my neck, my vision plunged into darkness.
Several seconds passed like that.
Whooooom!
The sacred mark etched upon my left chest blazed with light, and my vision returned to normal as if the darkness had never been.
“Phew.”
I exhaled softly and touched the back of my neck.
The head that had been rolling across the floor moments before was now perfectly intact, reattached to my shoulders as though time itself had reversed.
As I tried to shake off the lingering sensation of the blade against my throat—
“Ugh!”
Sizzzzle!
A searing pain, like a branding iron scorching my left chest, accompanied faint flames flickering around the sacred mark.
A phenomenon I had never experienced in my past life.
‘If this is the influence of the Primordial Flame…’
Then those faint flames dancing around the mark must be the Primordial Flame itself.
“Tch.”
I sat on the bed and closed my eyes firmly.
Recalling the meditation technique Sophia had taught me, I slowly steadied my breathing.
With a sensation of my body floating weightlessly, I concentrated all my awareness on my left chest.
‘I can feel it.’
Faintly.
A spark burning with fierce, palpable presence.
‘I managed to sense the aura of the Primordial Flame, but…’
I had no idea what to do next or how to proceed.
‘It won’t move even though I’m not trying to move it.’
I poured all my concentration into controlling the Primordial Flame’s aura by sheer will, yet the blazing flames didn’t budge—as though I were trying to grasp fire itself in my bare hands.
After about five minutes of intense focus, sweat pouring down my face—
The pain in my left chest vanished without a trace, and I could no longer sense the aura of the Primordial Flame.
“Tsk.”
I clicked my tongue lightly and ended the meditation.
‘So I truly cannot control the Primordial Flame by my own will.’
I had succeeded in sensing its aura, but beyond that, there was nothing I could accomplish.
“Ugh.”
As I sat there with a disappointed expression—
“…Huh?”
Something.
A sensation different from before emanated from the sacred mark.
‘What is this?’
To confirm, I spread the magical energy dwelling within the stigma throughout my entire body once more.
It was such a meager amount that I would have overlooked it without concentrating my mind.
“My magical energy has increased?”
Before and after I severed my own throat.
Though subtle, I could feel the total quantity of magical energy itself had grown.
“Ha.”
A hollow laugh escaped between my lips.
“So that means….”
My magical energy increases automatically every time I die?

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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