The Regressed Magic Swordsman Devours the North - Chapter 34

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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 34. The Way to Gain People (3)
I stood in the middle of a vast Wheat Field.
Beyond the endlessly stretching horizon, golden dawn shattered down like light. The wheat field itself turned golden.
Whoooosh—
A gentle wind blew. The wheat swept by the wind formed golden waves.
Before such beauty, the wind tickled my cheek. It felt peaceful yet refreshing.
Looking around, I saw my father, Director Midgal, my eldest brother, my second brother. Silvia, Louis, Bwindle, Bill.
All of them walked toward the dawn. There was hope in that sight.
It felt like it would stay this way forever. Peaceful. Mankind’s extinction was a lie. That’s what it felt like.
But. Then.
—Duckie…
A low, hollow voice flew from behind me and lodged itself in my spine. As if possessed, I turned my head.
In that moment.
——————Crack!
Centered on me.
The world split in half.
Ahead was still brilliant gold, but behind was a battlefield.
The stench of blood, severed heads rolling free from bodies, steel swords embedded in corpses, flames consuming people.
Mothers who’d lost their children wailed. Husbands robbed of their wives screamed vengeance. Slaughtered corpses protested their injustice.
It was hell.
No—before the Regression.
It was a scene I had witnessed.
Something lurched upward from the ashen earth. Its mouth, disfigured by burns, split open wide as it spoke.
—Can you really go alone like that?
Flinch. My body trembled. The peace I’d felt moments before vanished like a lie.
I turned my head forward again. The golden plain was nowhere to be found. Instead, what I saw was.
Villagers trampled by demon hooves, their entrails torn open, hanging limp.
People transformed into beasts, reduced to experimental subjects.
From the sky, black fireballs rained down like meteors, burning every existence that touched the ground.
Then. A wet, cold sensation seized my ankle.
“…!”
Looking down, bloodied hands gripped my legs.
Following the hands to the faces, I recognized them. Comrades from the Resistance Army—those who had shared life and death before the Regression.
A general stared up at me with hollow eye sockets, Doctor Crombel crawled forward with his lower body gone, and five heroes who had fought until the very end, their backs to me as they made their last stand.
With rotting lips trembling, they asked.
—It hurts. It’s agony. Our flesh burns.
—Why only you…
—Sion. Are you leaving us behind?
The grip around my ankle tightened, threatening to crush bone. Beyond them, an enormous shadow descended, blotting out the sky.
The Demon King.
The Demon Dragon that destroyed the world opened its maw.
—————Roaaaaar!
With a sonic blast that shook the earth itself, a wave of dark breath came crashing down.
The comrades who held me, the vengeful phantoms who poured out their resentment—all turned to ash in silence and scattered.
Suffocating with terror, I jolted upright, screaming.
“Gasp! Huff, huff…!”
Breathing roughly, I looked around. The Carsen Family Mansion. Inside my room.
A dream.
Right, damn it.
Yes, it was a dream.
—September 6th, 2 AM
I got out of bed and approached the window, throwing it wide open. Cold dawn air rushed in unfiltered.
My entire body was soaked in cold sweat, and my ankle still seemed to retain that chilling touch.
That’s why. That’s why I can’t stop. If I stop moving, the dream I just had will become reality.
Then. From somewhere, a sound like a heartbeat reached my ears.
Thump— thump—
In a corner of the room, the Black Egg placed beside the safe pulsed ominously.
I approached it and placed my hand upon it. Whoosh. Mana drained into it. What would this egg become when it hatches?
Whatever it is, it must be of aid on the path I walk.
“That is the way you survive.”
***
-September 6th, 3 AM
There are places that glow whether the sun rises or sets. Or rather, it would be more accurate to say they grow dark when the sun shines and bright when it sets.
I walked through the slums at the edge of the capital, Seireen, wearing a mask carved with an eagle, a Black Cloak draped over my shoulders, and a hood pulled low over my head.
A place where the fist spoke louder than law, and steel spoke louder than the fist.
The eyes of the vagrants I occasionally passed held the dull gleam of hunger.
Sure enough, a man approached from behind, lips curling back in a hungry snarl.
I swept him with Mana Detection. A dagger glinted in his grip.
The moment he raised the blade to my back—
In one fluid motion, I wrenched the dagger from his hand and drove it into his belly.
Thud.
“…?!”
His eyes went wide with shock. How? That was the emotion flickering across his face.
I pulled the blade free and drove it into his throat. Thud. Then twisted, severing it clean through.
His head tumbled to the street, spinning lazily. Blood fountained from the stump of his neck.
I flicked the bloody dagger to the ground.
Clang, clang. It skittered across the pavement and came to rest near the rolling head.
I dusted off my clothes and continued forward, indifferent—as if this were nothing at all.
Rumble—
The ground split beneath my feet. I moved on in silence. No one followed.
I descended into a building, then deeper still, into the basement below.
Deep underground, there was a tavern called the Black Feather.
I pushed open the creaking door and stepped inside. Cigarette smoke and cheap liquor assailed my nose.
Beyond the haze, in the tavern’s farthest booth, a woman sat with one leg crossed over the other, idly working a dagger between her fingers.
Her eyes held a lazy indifference, and a smirk played at the corner of her mouth.
I settled into the seat beside her naturally. She spoke.
“This liquor’s probably too strong for a gentleman like you?”
“How strong?”
“Well, let’s say it could dissolve your tongue?”
The woman’s crimson lips curled as she giggled. The dagger danced between her fingers, catching the light with menace. But I ignored the display and cut to business.
“I need information about Travis.”
At that, her eyes narrowed to slits. She drove the dagger into the table with a sharp thrust and leaned forward intently.
“You carry deep pockets?”
She didn’t bother asking why. Cash was all that mattered to her.
I reached into my coat and drew out a single sheet of paper, tossing it before her. She picked it up.
On it was written:
[Purge List]
-Black Eagle.
-Ghost Kill.
-Orange Wolf.
-Green Frog.
……
……
Her eyelids trembled. Only the northern Inspection Bureau could have drawn up such a list.
And the Thieves Guild would have known immediately that the Inspection Bureau’s movements had grown ominous of late.
“…Damn. You can’t be serious.”
“What’s there to be shocked about?”
“Ha. Do I look like the type who wouldn’t be?”
“We know each other, don’t we, Ren?”
“…Huh!”
The woman—Ren—clapped a hand over her mouth. Her other hand remained on the dagger, but I gave her a quiet warning.
“Draw it, and I’ll kill you.”
“…!”
Only then did she remove her hand from the blade. But the shock didn’t fade. She took a sharp breath—no, her mind was racing.
Beneath my mask, I let my expression soften as I spoke.
“Well done, Ren.”
“…Damn. Don’t call me by that name.”
“Understood.”
We did, in fact, have a history.
After I killed Yan Hashman at the tavern Sid ran called Igwen Luna, I stepped outside to survey the scene.
A skilled fighter in hiding. That woman, Len, was right in front of me.
How did I know her name?
It would have been strange not to.
She’d been a comrade in the Resistance Army before the Regression. Her code name was Black Eagle.
She gnawed at her fingernails, rolling her eyes. I could guess what she was thinking.
She’d recognized herself in hiding that day? The moment our eyes met—was it really coincidence?
But how did she know my name? Her intelligence network was beyond imagination. Could it be that the Carsen family was making a serious move? If so, could the organization withstand it?
A useful misunderstanding. Perhaps she’d finished her calculations. Len opened her mouth.
“Please wait a moment.”
Len’s tone had shifted.
She rose from her seat and disappeared somewhere. The dagger still jutted from the table.
I sipped my drink and waited a while. Len reappeared from somewhere, carrying a thick Leather Ledger, which she extended to me.
“The information you requested.”
I accepted the Leather Ledger and tucked it into my coat before speaking.
“My thanks.”
Just as I was about to rise without hesitation, Len asked quietly.
“You truly intend to exclude Black Eagle from the purge?”
I gazed at her through the eye-holes of my mask and answered.
“If darkness is something that doesn’t disappear no matter how much light is shed upon it… then at least darkness that speaks the same language would be preferable.”
……
She nodded, as if she understood.
I hadn’t yet decided what to do with her. Just as Doctor Crombel before the Regression differed from Doctor Crombel now, she too would be a completely different person.
Could we truly be comrades again? Or would we become enemies, each pressing a blade to the other’s throat?
For now, there was no way to know.
***
—September 6th, 9 PM
Sion analyzed the information obtained from Black Eagle in meticulous detail.
The terrain of Travis, local culture, characteristics of community society, dangerous fauna and flora.
Influence by noble house. The business ecosystem, the definition of those called merchants rather than merchants proper.
The Thieves Guild and criminal organizations.
The hierarchy that encompassed it all.
It was organized with such precision that you’d think it impossible to compile so thoroughly.
‘There’s clearly a reason she becomes the greatest northern guild before long.’
That thought arose naturally upon reviewing the material.
What stood out most to me was the information on the strong.
The champions who fought proxy battles for nobles. Knights. The skilled fighters of criminal organizations. Which organizations handled assassination. Who wielded poisons.
And.
Based on that information, I purchased the necessary Magical Tools. I spared no effort in preparation. If anything, I was obsessively thorough.
Tick—tick, tick—tick.
Time flowed relentlessly on.
And so dawn broke on September 7th.
Sion and the knights gathered at the outskirts of Seireen.
Silvia, Louis, Bwindle, Bill. The agents wore camouflage in place of uniforms—civilian clothes that reflected each of their individuality.
Over those they’d draped brown-toned cloaks, the purpose being to conceal the swords they wore at their hips.
Behind each was a massive backpack. Inside were various provisions—camping gear, money, food, spare clothes, camouflage uniforms, and more.
Midgal, the Inspection Bureau Director, turned to address the knights.
“This is your means of communication.”
He produced two notebooks, holding them up. They appeared to be ordinary leather notebooks, but they were Magical Tools.
Mirror Notebooks.
When writing was inscribed in one notebook, identical text would appear in real-time in the connected notebook—a pair of twin Magical Tools.
An uncommon method of long-distance communication.
Midgal handed a notebook to Sion, who accepted it and tucked it away.
Midgal then made eye contact with each agent in turn, and spoke.
“Bwindle is from Travis, so he’ll understand, but the rest of you have never set foot beyond the capital of Seireen. Listen carefully to what I’m about to say.”
Midgal withdrew the other notebook. In a voice like stone, he recited a verse by a northern bard of the present age, his words a commentary on this era.
“The words of the easterner are incomprehensible to the westerner.
While the wise tend to providence and achieve brilliant advancement.
The barbarians sharpen their axes and engage in plunder.
While scholars sit in their ivory towers, debating the weight of the soul and ethics.
Savages destroy the soul through blood and violence.
Ah. The age of upheaval has arrived. The era of chaos has come upon us.
Strange and magnificent.”
Snap. Midgal closed the notebook and continued.
“The fastest route from Seireen to Travis is through the Yarel Mountain Range. And that place is a lawless territory.”
Science and Magical Engineering have advanced, and philosophy and ethics have developed—or so they say. But that is only very recent.
In the great cities, perhaps. But in the borderlands, the mountain passes—in such places, one was meant to abandon the morality of today.
“I’m leaving the decision to you, Sion. Understood?”
“Yes, Director.”
Sion saluted Midgal.
“For the sake of loyalty. Inspection Bureau agent Sion Carsen and four others are departing to execute a special mission.”
Midgal received the salute with a sharp, knife-like hand gesture.
“Then. Board the vehicle.”
Sion and his companions boarded the white Military Vehicle.
Vroom-vroom—
The Military Vehicle roared to life and departed.
The Regressed Demon Swordmaster Devours the North
Author
: Bang Sim
Date of Production
: June 16, 2026
Publisher
: Acesmedia Inc.
Editor
: Acesmedia Editorial Team
Address
: 10F Urban Bench Building, 325 Teheran-ro, Gangnam-gu, Seoul
Email
: [email protected]
※ This work is published by Acesmedia Inc. in accordance with a contract with the copyright holder,
and its contents may not be used in any form or by any means without permission from the publisher and author.
This e-book is protected by copyright law, and unauthorized reproduction or copying 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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