The Regressed Magic Swordsman Devours the North - Chapter 12

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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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Episode 12. Red Fangs (1)
An era when guns, automobiles, and typewriters were invented.
An era when brilliant scholars studied Magical Engineering and applied it to daily life.
In this period, countless enterprises large and small sprang up, and some wielded power rivaling the nobility.
Especially the famous magnates—they were sometimes granted treatment equal to or above a baron.
In truth, barony was often conferred on Knights or mages who had distinguished themselves in minor wars, so it was fitting enough.
In peacetime, with no territories and no history to claim, how could a house maintain its noble standing?
Therefore, only those who held their own lands—viscount and above—were truly recognized as nobility.
Their territories had built capital, their capital had drawn talent, and their talent became their strength.
This circulation of power became history with the passage of time, and history in turn became power once more.
Particularly the nobility of count rank and higher wielded formidable authority, anchored in their vast territories.
Yet above them all reigned a single house, like the heavens themselves.
The Karsen Grand Duchy.
The de facto king of the Northern Region.
The counts served the Karsen Grand Duke as their liege and ruled their respective lands, but the complex history binding them together had left territorial boundaries ambiguous.
In any case, all roads from each domain led to Seiren, called the capital of the North, and Seiren naturally became the center of trade for the entire region.
So much so that there was a saying: “If you wish to rise in the North, go to Seiren.”
Yet Seiren, as Sion perceived it, felt like a city lacking any coherent design.
Ancient ruins stood as buildings whose age could not be fathomed, while newer structures were erected with clean lines and freshly applied paint.
The newer buildings, of course, were commercial structures built by enterprises and noble houses.
The homes of ordinary subjects were mostly detached houses with chimneys.
Wealthy entrepreneurs lived in grand mansions, and the places where such mansions clustered together formed their own district—what was called the wealthy quarter.
Beyond that, museums, galleries, theaters, and other new cultural spaces were scattered throughout the city, along with academies and smaller magical towers sponsored by various noble houses.
Everything had formed along a massive river that cut through the city—called Lumenia, meaning “the River of the Dead Sun God.”
Indeed, the Lumenia River never froze, no matter how cold the weather, earning it the name of a mythical river, and the people hailed it as a blessing bestowed by the Sun God himself.
The great manor of the Karsen house stood on a high hill in the center of the Lumenia River, with ruins-buried mountains rising behind it.
The rooms of the Karsen sons occupied the highest floor of the manor, so Sion could look down upon the cityscape from his window.
Morning sunlight sliced across the horizon, staining the city a deep crimson.
It was utterly beautiful, and he gazed upon it quietly.
“If only the demon invasion were nothing but a lie.”
Sion Karsen thought this with genuine sincerity.
He then tidied his bedding, checked the Black Egg once more, and confirmed the time of the operation.
The operation was set for evening, midnight—12 o’clock.
The gathering time was two hours prior, at 10 o’clock.
‘I’ll make use of the spare time.’
Sion retrieved the bottles known as the Breath of the Fire-Ice Dragon—the Crimson Bottle filled with fierce heat, and the Sky-Blue Bottle brimming with cold.
He set the Sky-Blue Bottle on the table and held only the Crimson Bottle in his hand.
His physical condition had nearly recovered by now; the moment had come.
“Inhale… exhale.”
He drew breath slowly and exhaled, steadying his body.
Such Elixir could not be fully absorbed in a single draught.
To consistently breathe and train, fully absorbing the Mana contained in the Elixir—this too was the quality of a true Knight.
Pop.
He uncorked the bottle containing the crimson liquid. A sharp, pungent aroma spread throughout the room. Dense, salty Mana tantalized his senses.
Drawn by a pull like fate itself, he drained it in one gulp.
Gulp, gulp.
The liquid traced vividly the shape of his throat as it descended his esophagus.
Sion immediately sat in formal position, focusing on the Mana flooding his body. It was a truly immense power.
It surged toward his heart, swept through his entire frame, and the force was so violent that maintaining consciousness became difficult.
A faint wind stirred within the room. Not a gale, but enough to make the curtains flutter in a sealed space where no wind should blow.
Sion’s hair rippled. And deep within his eyes, light began to shine—growing ever brighter, transforming into flame.
“Exhale.”
It ended there. By then, the sun had set. The wind ceased. The flames in Sion’s eyes faded. Fortunately, he remained conscious throughout.
Without Derkie’s skill and experience, he could never have absorbed the Elixir so adeptly.
Sion rose from his seat. As he examined his body, he felt a strength different from before.
He also sensed that unconsumed energy still slumbered within his Core and heart.
He clenched his fist. A power unlike what he had known before coursed through him. As the Core grew, so too did his body.
A strange sense of omnipotence washed over him, but he quieted his mind again.
“There is no rushing this.”
The answer lies only in steady training and time.
Sion picked up the Sky-Blue Bottle again. He had no intention of drinking it.
Based on his experience before the regression, there was a specific elixir suited to him, and the only potion he needed to take was the Crimson Bottle.
Sion placed the Sky-Blue Bottle in the safe provided in the room, then showered and changed into fresh clothes.
The Inspection Bureau uniform was white by standard, but since this operation had to proceed covertly, he retrieved the disguise outfit.
He put on the Black Wig, dressed in a thick wool coat and Navy Suspender Pants, and fitted the Black Horn-Rimmed Glasses on his face.
The very picture of an ordinary laborer.
Of course, concealed within the clothing were weapons—a sword and a revolver, among others.
And he’d stashed several Potions useful for wound recovery inside his coat.
He wouldn’t reveal himself as a mage, but he wouldn’t neglect the preparations a mage should make.
***
It felt like far too long since he’d faced the Inspection Bureau building.
“I heard it was built more than a decade ago, yet it’s twelve stories tall.”
Remarkable.
As time progressed, construction techniques would improve and buildings would grow taller, but he doubted they’d surpass this antique grace.
Besides, the Inspection Bureau was a symbolic structure.
The day all Northern nobility, centered around House Karsen, were brought under its umbrella.
Proof that the entire North had rallied together in pursuit of justice, peace, and prosperity.
Because of that, it wielded absolute authority.
One thing alone: with only the Grand Duke Karsen’s permission, it had the power to sweep away any corrupt faction.
That power was exactly what I needed now. Even if I couldn’t eliminate all corrupted authority, every venal noble, every cartel—at minimum, I had to bring them under control.
I steeled myself and stepped inside. The interior was quite spacious, with at least twenty rooms per floor.
I found my way to Room 408 as indicated on the summons.
There, led by Lui, Inspection Bureau operatives stood in orderly formation, all in civilian clothes and all possessed of skills equal to or exceeding those of apprentice knights.
“I’m Sion Karsen, dispatched to assist. Good to see you, Lui.”
“…….”
Lui merely glanced at me sideways without responding. He’d done the same before the regression—the moment he became a full knight, he’d begun to disregard me.
Had my conduct offended him so much? Fair enough, though…….
The way he looked at me grated more than before. How to describe it. The gaze one casts at something truly despised. Contempt, abundantly clear.
‘Rein it in, you bastard.’
Lui Daiken turned his head sharply, then spread a map across the long table in the center of the room.
“The location marked with the red circle is the stronghold where these vermin have dug in within the Isra District.”
The Isra District was an outlying region of the capital Seiren—a factory zone too destitute to even be called a slum by courtesy.
“From this point forward, we’ll divide into sections by district and proceed with the subjugation. If you, Operative Sion, notice any misinformation or have supplementary intelligence, please offer your input to refine the operation.”
I nodded. But there was nothing to supplement. Planning refinements two hours before the operation didn’t make sense.
He wouldn’t be ignorant of that.
He simply wanted to establish a pretext for my dispatch.
Moreover, the information I’d sent contained only rough locations, and the Inspection Bureau’s intelligence division would have conducted additional investigation to refine the exact stronghold details, leaving no room for my input.
Still, as I listened to the operation, I pondered the Red Fangs and the organizations dwelling in darkness.
Why had the shadowy organizations tried to abandon the Red Fangs?
From their perspective, wouldn’t it have been beneficial to have even more targets drawing the Inspection Bureau’s and law enforcement’s attention?
Could they have been reluctant to be connected to something?
‘What happened?’
This time I’d investigate directly. And I would claim for myself the renown she’d enjoyed before the regression.
By rooting out the Red Fangs embedded in the North.
***
A late night with the full moon burning bright.
The darkness of the North was cold.
Instead of warm sunlight, cool moonbeams lit the world, and the rivulets where snow had melted and trickled were frozen solid once more.
From every chimney on every rooftop, smoke rose—for meal preparation, or to trap warmth indoors.
Yet from an Abandoned Factory in the Isra District rose something else entirely.
A roaring whoosh—
“Agh! Aaagh! Gack!”
“Traitor bastards! Burn to death!”
“This is a pyre prepared for you!”
“That’s right. Does it hurt? Does it sting? Or does the heat get to you?”
Six men were bound to an iron pillar, and beneath them lay straw soaked in oil, set ablaze.
Men bearing the Red Fangs tattoo—a scarlet wound beneath each eye—laughed with cruel glee.
“Handing the job to the Hashman brothers was a mistake. That mongrel let information slip and got the tail caught.”
“Because of those bastards, we have to abandon this place!”
“We shouldn’t have taken in those wretched bastards in the first place.”
“The losses they’ve inflicted… I’d burn them to ash and it still wouldn’t be enough.”
One man cursed. Others hurled stones at the figures writhing in the flames, venting their fury. Some jeered. Others stood in silence, watching the execution unfold with cold precision.
It was a kind of spectacle—a demonstration of control over a crumbling organization, a purge of traitors.
This was Jepren’s method. The leader of the Red Fangs.
He was the only member of the organization to possess the strength of a Wandering Knight. Every operative feared him.
The six men shrieked desperately, as though protesting their innocence.
“Mmph! Nngh! Mmph! Mmph!”
But with stones forced into their mouths and rope sealing them shut, their words were nothing but inarticulate noise.
Their entire bodies bore the marks of torture—bruises, lacerations, burn scars—unmistakable and evident.
Step, step.
Jepren walked forward and spoke.
“It pains me that I must kill you. But tell me. What is this?”
He shook a newspaper in his hand.
“Suddenly the Red Fangs appear in the papers. And right after our name comes Karsen. What manner of damned mess is this?”
Whoosh. Jepren hurled the newspaper beneath the men. The flames roared higher.
Stifled screams echoed for a time. By the time they ceased, the men had become blackened cinders.
Jepren turned to his organization members and spoke.
“Assemble the officers. We leave this place today.”
Fire burned in Jepren’s eyes—a flame that grew fiercer by the moment, as though the inferno within his own soul had taken physical form.
“…This cannot end here.”
The Reincarnated Magic Swordsman Devours the Northern Region
Author
: Bangsim
Production Date
: June 16, 2026
Publisher
: AcesMedia Co., Ltd.
Editor
: AcesMedia Editorial Team
Address
: 10F Urban Bench Building, 325 Teheran-ro, Gangnam-gu, Seoul
Email
: [email protected]
※ This work is published by AcesMedia Co., Ltd. pursuant to a contract with the copyright holder.
No part of this content may be used in any form or by any means without permission from the publisher and author.
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UCI
: G720:N+A129-20260615032

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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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