The Regressed Magic Swordsman Devours the North - Chapter 18

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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 18. Golden Star Branch (3)
Far into the future, long after my time.
After the world’s end.

When I lived in a small southern nation with the Resistance Force, I modified the Karsen Family swordsmanship.

To fit my body perfectly. To respond to any situation.

The Karsen Family’s swordsmanship was among the finest on the continent, but it alone was not enough.
My Mana ran along the Flame line, not ice.
So I drew from the Leonhardt Style Swordsmanship, revered as the strongest in the Southern Region.

In that sense, the Karsen Modified Style I created was the finest swordsmanship for me alone.
I had merged the strengths of the greatest techniques from both the Northern and Southern Regions.
After the Resistance Force was formed, schools and families alike began sharing techniques—a luxury that made such a fusion possible.
A mage who studied swordsmanship? Why?
Simple. Necessity.
Now, mages and knights are seen as entirely separate beings, but in that desperate age when most of humanity had fallen, the boundary between them vanished.
Mages possessed overwhelming firepower against many, yet required lengthy preparation before combat—a weakness that made them fragile in assassination attempts or one-on-one duels.
Knights, by contrast, were useful in every way: mobility, defense, attack power. So even mages commonly wielded blades back then.
Yet not all mages are the same, and not all knights share the same level.
They were classified by skill and renown: Low-rank Knight, Mid-rank Knight, High-rank Knight.
Above that lay beings difficult to categorize cleanly, but broadly they fell into three tiers.
Knight Expert.
Knight Master.
Grand Master.
In the Resistance Force’s final days, I fought on battlefields alongside Knight Masters—not as their equal, but using their swords as my standard.
So Louis’s blade looked clumsy to my eye, and I did not miss the opening.
I swept his sword upward from lower left to upper right.

Clang!

Louis lost his grip. The blade spiraled through the air and clattered to one side of the Training Ground.
Whirr—

I watched his face. I’d expected frustration at defeat, but his expression looked relieved.
He opened his mouth. Anyone could see he was about to concede.
But who would allow that?

“I’ve lost—”

Thud!

Louis couldn’t finish. My fist had already driven into his face.
Crack!
He clutched his face and stumbled backward. Bewilderment crossed his features. I didn’t care.
Louis had always dismissed my skill. Fairly or not, that was beside the point.

What mattered was my plan to include him on the team I’d assemble. A man with his temperament needed to be crushed thoroughly.
“A renowned knight gives up just because he dropped his sword?”
My taunt made him hesitate. Then, after a moment’s thought, he brushed the dust from himself and stood.
“I’ll see it through to the end.”
“That’s right.”
Louis reinforced his body with Mana and charged at me. Admirable. But not a wise choice.
A man who’d wielded a blade his whole life wouldn’t be quick with his fists.
I slipped his punch with a step forward and drove my own fist out.
Crack!
My knuckles sank into his ribs.
“Ugh!”
A side kick followed. I drove my heel into his thigh without giving him time to yield.
Thud!
My fist drove deep into Louis’s abdomen—the final blow.

“Gack!”

Louis dropped to his knees, both hands clutching his stomach. I brought the edge of my hand down against the nape of his neck.

Crack!

Louis collapsed, foam flecking his lips. A total defeat—he’d given it everything and still lost utterly.
“Hah.”
This wasn’t what I’d intended, but something inside me felt unclenched. There was nothing personal in it—or so I told myself.
“You did well.”

That moment.
Midgal raised his arm high and cried out.

“Victory to Sion Karsen!”

The roar erupted.

The crowd exploded.
Already, many knights had turned the tide of public opinion. Now this result was the catalyst that made it irreversible.
I turned to face the spectators and raised a hand in a casual wave.
Clap, clap-clap!

A few isolated claps began.

———Clap-clap-clap-clap-clap!

The applause swept through like a tide.

In the distance, I saw Sid clench his fist and rise from his seat. He looked genuinely moved.
The rest of the family showed similar reactions—shock, amazement, pride.
Feeling those changed gazes upon me, I felt remarkably good. Yet part of me tasted something bitter.
Why had I lived so differently before the return?
As Louis was carried off on a stretcher, Midgal approached me and placed his hand on my shoulder.
“Young master! Where in the world did you learn that swordsmanship?”

His grip was so strong I nearly staggered, but I gritted my teeth and held firm.
“It is the Karsen Modified Style.”
“Is that so? Ah, my apologies. It seemed different from the lord’s swordsmanship I once knew…….”
Hmm. So Midgal had noticed that my technique differed from the traditional Karsen Style, despite my attempts to modulate it.

‘As expected of Midgal. With eyes sharp as a Steel Knight, his perception runs deep.’

I cleared my throat a couple of times before speaking.

“The family’s swordsmanship did not suit me well, so I modified it to fit my own style.”
“……Is that truly so?!”

Midgal was moved—first with genuine emotion, then his expression shifted to something more satisfied as he continued.
“Just as I thought! Truly, the blood of House Karsen runs true! Noble lineage shows itself regardless!”
His deep cavern of a voice boomed with laughter. He was in a state of high excitement.
He threw his head back and guffawed, marveling at how remarkable it was that one could adapt an ancient swordsmanship to suit oneself.
I answered awkwardly.

“Well… yes, that’s right.”
“Ah, of course. Congratulations on your victory. Do rest before your next duel.”
“Yes. Thank you.”
Trudging out of the Training Ground, I found someone waiting for me.
Kuseto, of the Daikahru Earl House. His face was flushed and pale by turns—he looked furious.
“Congratulations… on your victory.”
The man was unaccustomed to formal speech; his words stumbled. He was, by my measure, utterly contemptible.
“And?”
“…Don’t you have something to say to me? Or rather… to me, sir?”
“Like what.”
“You’ve been deceiving me all this time, haven’t you?”
“What?”
I was so flabbergasted, so utterly at a loss for words, that I found myself responding as I normally would. What is this idiot talking about? What does he mean right now?
But I quickly collected myself and stepped closer to him.
Perhaps because he’d just watched my duel, I felt Kuseto flinch.
“Listen.”
“…Yes.”
“That’s your limit. Kuseto, of the Daikahru Earl House.”
“…?”
When I spoke his name properly, Kuseto seemed momentarily taken aback. He’s so easy to read. Before the regression, why had I ever thought this man was skilled at politics?
“This pathetic whining—that’s all you are. You lose to your brother, so you scheme with your connections to gain an edge. When that fails, you throw a tantrum like a child. That’s your measure. Even the Daikahru Earl would sigh looking at you. You’re not even a vessel worth filling.”
“…What do you mean—”
“Don’t understand? All your scheming in high society, all your tricks—they’re worthless. You’ve reached your ceiling.”
Kuseto’s eyes trembled. I’d struck a nerve; his insides were churning. It would have been satisfying, but he could do nothing about it.
Even facing such direct insult, his anger control remained intact.
So I stepped closer still. And tapped his shoulder lightly.
“Get off the stage. Kuseto.”
“…!”
I walked past him. Through my heightened senses, I could only feel his body trembling violently.
In some ways, Kuseto resembled the man I’d been before the regression. But he was one who’d made a corrupted choice—one who would eventually betray humanity. There was no pity in me.
He wasn’t worth fixing.
Let him outlive his usefulness.
And then rot away.
When I returned to the waiting room, Roman was there, grinning broadly. His smile was so wide I thought his face might split.
I gave Roman a task.
“Roman. From now on, disguise yourself and keep watch over Kuseto. Monitor everything he does. And report back to me.”
Roman’s expression hardened as he absorbed my words. He answered with the look of someone resolved.
“Every move, sir. I won’t miss a thing.”
***
On the first day of the main tournament, I defeated Louis in our duel.
On the second day, I overcame another knight and claimed victory. The opponent was not stronger than Louis, but the roar of the crowd grew louder with each match.
And at last came the semifinals.
My opponent was Sian, a mercenary-born spearmaster from the Northern Region, known as the “Blue-Green Spear.”
Though not a knight by rank, he was a mercenary whose skill matched that of any knight—a formidable opponent wielding a Long Spear over two meters tall, channeling a Blue-Green Aura into his strikes.
But before the duel, my mind had already processed information that took precedence over his strength.
The night before.
The brief report Roman had delivered to me.
-Kuseto of the Daikahru Earl House met with the spearmaster Sian.
He offered three billion Jenni if Sian could cripple one of your limbs, or two hundred billion Jenni if he could kill you in what appeared to be an accident.
I believe we should inform the Lord immediately and wipe out the Daikahru family.
‘Three billion Jenni.’
I stopped Roman. The spearmaster had let greed cloud his judgment, and I would teach him a lesson—but I wouldn’t take further action. Instead, I would save him for later.
That way, I could drive Kuseto deeper into darkness.
Whoosh. The moment the match began, Sian leaped forward to close the distance and thrust his Long Spear.
Screech!
I quickly parried his spear shaft with my blade.
Boom!
My roaring Flame Aura and his Blue-Green Aura collided, sending a massive shockwave through the arena.
He twisted the spear’s shaft deftly, aiming for my left shoulder. I slipped the attack with a light turn and closed the distance between us.
Then I swept my sword forward, aiming to take his head.
Screech!
He evaded my blade and fell back, while simultaneously thrusting his spearpoint at my thigh.
I dodged and closed in and struck; he evaded and fell back and thrust.
Whoosh—
The Flame Aura torched the empty air, and each time the spear point went wide, the Training Ground floor erupted in detonation.
I hadn’t shown it, but there were more than a few moments when his unconventional Spear Art caught me off guard.
He was a formidable opponent as expected, and this was the moment I realized my own strength still hovered at the Mid-rank Knight level.
But there was one decisive difference between him and me. Mana Detection, which I’d manifested from the very start of the duel.
My holy senses deconstructed Sian’s muscle contractions and the flow of his mana second by second.
And.
Clang!
The moment he and I put distance between ourselves. I analyzed the combat data I’d gathered in real time.
And.
When the fight resumed.
I deflected Sian’s Long Spear at an angle and drove into his blind spot. He clawed desperately to widen the distance, but it was already a pattern I’d analyzed—he couldn’t shake me off.
I recited in a low voice only he could hear.
“Is your life worth so little that you’d sell your soul for three billion Jenni?”
“…?!”
Sian’s eyes widened in shock. A moment’s hesitation. I didn’t miss the opening.
—Rip!
My blade drove between his right shoulder and collarbone, scraping bone.
His tendons snapped and his Aura scattered. He cried out and tried to stumble backward, but my blade was already carving its next arc.
Crack!
The tendon in Sian’s right leg severed uselessly. He crumpled onto the Training Ground floor in pathetic ruin.
One arm and one leg.
Exactly as Kuseto had ordered.
“Aaaaagh!”
I flicked the bloodied blade clean and looked down at Sian writhing on the ground.
Midgal’s booming voice thundered across the arena.
“Victory goes to Sion Karsen!”
Roaaaaar—!
The roar of twenty thousand spectators shook Kaiseus. I raised my head slowly amid the cheers and turned to gaze at the VIP gallery.
There sat Kuseto, his face drained of all color. He trembled uncontrollably, unable to meet my eyes.
I formed the words silently toward him.
‘You’re next.’
Then I turned and descended from the stage.
Now no citizen of the Northern Region doubted my strength. Only expectation remained—whether I could claim the championship.
The Returned Sword Mage Devours the North
Author
: Bang-sim
Production Date
: June 16, 2026
Publisher
: (Co.) Ace System Media
Editor
: Ace System Media Editorial Team
Address
: 10F Urban Bench Building, 325 Teheran-ro, Gangnam-gu, Seoul, Korea
Email
: [email protected]
※ This work has been published by (Co.) Ace System Media in accordance with the copyright holder’s contract,
and no part of its contents may be used in any form or by any means without the permission of this company and the author.
This e-book is a copyrighted work protected by copyright law, and unauthorized reproduction or duplication may result in legal liability.
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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