The Regressed Magic Swordsman Devours the North - Chapter 43

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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 43. Above, and Above That
Every region harbored crime syndicates. Shadow followed sunlight as naturally as night followed day.
And among these criminal organizations, a clear hierarchy existed.
The rank-and-file members rarely understood this. To them, their boss was king—the finest man alive.
Yet even that boss answered to someone, and that someone answered to another still.
Iron Teeth, Green Snake, Red Three Eyes. The three organizations’ senior operatives had come to the Yarel Mountain Range.
It was when the crimson sunset faded into darkness and true night descended.
“They’re all dead.”
“Mine too.”
“Same with the Bilton Family.”
Every organization in the Yarel Mountain Range had been wiped out. Not just the ones the three groups directly controlled from Travis as their stronghold, but every outfit they’d brought under their wing.
Not a single one remained.
“I was here just a week ago. This doesn’t make sense.”
“Mine’s the same. Judging by the color of the blood, I’d say four days old.”
……Same here.
“Insane. It’s the same for us too.”
“Then—did all this happen in a single night?”
“Goddamn it. How’s that possible?”
The senior operatives of the higher organizations had nothing to say. The hideout’s condition was grim enough, but they’d found not a trace of their enemy.
Whoever did this was meticulous. And fast. Brutally strong. Could they have numbered around a thousand?
Endless speculation swirled among them.
But these men were merely operatives. The real decisions would fall to the head of the organization itself.
“We’d better report this.”
“Yeah.”
“It’s been a while since the Yarel Mountains felt this unsettling.”
To the organization with Travis as its base, the Yarel Mountain Range was like their own front yard.
An extraterritorial zone, as it were.
Whether executives or foot soldiers, they were men of appetite. The moment opportunity arose, that hunger reared its head—and without a boss to keep them in line, all the more so.
But even the most capable boss had limits when ruling through fear alone.
Men glistening with desire were like starving beasts; they had to be let loose to pillage and take as they pleased.
After plundering cities and villages, they always fled to the Yarel Mountains.
Here, they could kill time and then return to their pillaging and highway robbery.
But now, Travis’s extraterritorial zone had been shattered. Utterly.
***
Thick curtains made the room dark even in broad daylight. Sunlight seeping between them cut across the space like a blade, as if the room were split in two.
A solid wood table sat in the center—rectangular, yet carved with gentle depressions throughout, like a work of art.
Around it sat two men and a woman: Kruger, boss of Iron Teeth; Kevin, boss of Red Three Eyes; and Sneed, boss of Green Snake.
“They’re really all dead? None escaped?”
“Doesn’t look like anyone got away.”
……This is beyond what we can handle.
By any rational measure, hundreds of men were hiding in the Yarel Mountains alone.
To kill them all would require an organization or army of comparable strength and similar numbers.
And even if such a force existed, wiping out everyone in a single night made no sense.
In any skirmish, men tended to flee the moment defeat seemed certain.
Usually, even losing a third of your forces counted as annihilation—yet all of them were dead.
“Could this be the work of Knights?”
“Why now, out of nowhere?”
“The nobility didn’t say anything. Francis didn’t either.”
“Who knows. Maybe they’re playing us.”
“Even if Knights were involved, those stiff-necked bastards wouldn’t move without some justification.”
It was purely his own bias, but most of them agreed. And in reality, Knights did tend to be that way.
“Even if warriors matching Knight-level strength came here, combing a treacherous mountain range and slaughtering everyone? Something’s off about this.”
“What’s off about it?”
“I don’t know.”
……
……
……
The three bosses fell silent for a moment.
Given how events had unfolded, they could deduce the enemy’s caliber.
But who the enemy was, why they’d done this, what countermeasures to take—no matter how hard they racked their brains, nothing came to mind.
Still, it was clear that as the Yarel Mountain Range—long considered a lawless zone—collapsed, it would become far harder to operate freely in Travis going forward.
And the tighter things became, the more secure the noose around their own necks grew.
“For now, let’s watch how things unfold, then report to the aristocrats.”
“Agreed.”
“And let’s inform E5 Francis as well. This month’s supply of human cargo has become impossible.”
“Agreed.”
“Let’s do that.”
The meeting was over. There was little to show for it. Just field reports moving higher up the chain.
***
Whissshhh—
A cool breeze swept across the land.
The wind that had traveled through the Yarel Mountain Range passed over the grasslands and reached Cadis, the main city of Travis.
As if gathering the stories nature had left in the fields, it whispered them along.
The cool breeze continued through the windows of the uppermost floor of the North Wing Travis branch.
There, Sion conducted administrative matters with Q. Though truth be told, it was largely one-sided demands.
In any case.
They reached an agreement to temporarily employ Inspection Bureau knights on the condition that they would receive no separate compensation.
“If I may ask—where would they be staying?”
“I’ll provide the funds. I’d like you to arrange lodging for them.”
“I see…….”
“Q. Since we’ve come this far, treat us like genuine employees, would you? Provide us with uniforms as well.”
“Ah, yes……. I understand.”
Q was known as a tiger throughout the North Wing office, but standing before Sion, sweat beaded on his brow.
After all, Sion was a high aristocrat, and what he was asking was decidedly unreasonable.
‘Can I really trust this man with delivery work? What if something goes missing? Are they expecting us to take the fall?’
But refusing wasn’t an option. Headquarters had already ordered full cooperation.
Besides, the other party was from the Karsen Family.
‘Everything I’ve seen of the Karsen Family’s conduct so far has been remarkably rational. Surely they wouldn’t suddenly change course?’
Q’s thoughts began to settle.
“……We maintain a dormitory for delivery mercenaries. I can offer you one of those. No rental fees required. Though I should warn you—the facilities aren’t always well-maintained.”
“That’s acceptable. More importantly, for your primary duties, I’d prefer you assign us mostly deliveries to aristocratic residences, corporate offices, and merchant guild buildings. And if you ever have packages to remote, sparsely populated areas, please send us for those as well.”
“That……even in the northern borderlands, this is still the capital of Travis. Won’t people from the Caster Duchy recognize you, Lord Sion?”
At that question, Sion smiled gently and answered.
“Q. I heard you’re a master craftsman of Face Masks.”
“……!”
Q was genuinely startled.
He’d certainly made such things in the past, but that was over a decade ago, and almost no one knew about it.
How could he possibly know?
What exactly was this man?
Sion smiled contentedly as he watched Q’s reaction.
Of course, Sion couldn’t have known Q’s background. He’d only heard about it from a resistance comrade before the regression……
-Sion. Use it carefully so it doesn’t tear.
-It’s perfect. The craftsmanship is excellent too.
-Right? I knew you’d appreciate it.
-Who taught you?
-A craftsman named Q, more than thirty years ago.
-Is he still alive?
-No. I heard he does delivery work up north. ……He’s probably dead by now?
-Teach me too.
-Can’t do it. You have no idea how hard I worked to learn this technique from him.
That stubborn bastard wouldn’t teach me even as the world was falling apart. Looking back now, maybe he thought it was better not to teach someone halfheartedly than to teach them at all.
In any case, Sion recognized Q based solely on memories from before his regression.
Sion asked again, respectfully.
“Could you craft Face Masks for myself and my associates?”
“Ah, well. That’s.”
“I. Ask. Sincerely.”
“……Yes. I shall make them for you.”
“How long will it take?”
“Even working quickly, it will take at least five days.”
“Make it three days.”
“……Yes.”
Q yielded to Sion’s polite (?) request and agreed to craft Face Masks for Sion and his colleagues.
“I’ll have my companions come by. Please take their measurements, and I’d appreciate it if you could begin the work promptly.”
Q nodded. He found himself wondering what sort of people Sion’s colleagues might be. It was precisely then—
that Sion let out a sharp whistle.
Wheeeee!
“……?”
Q stared at Sion in confusion, when suddenly he sensed movement behind him.
“Did things wrap up nicely?”
A beautiful woman with flowing deep blue hair stood there—though Q had no idea when she’d arrived. And she wasn’t alone.
Rui, Bwindol, and Bil. Four Knights had entered without a sound.
A chill ran down Q’s spine.
‘Insane. This is the seventh floor!’
“This person will be crafting our personal Face Masks. Please cooperate by having your measurements taken.”
The Knights nodded and lined up in order. Q felt the pressure in their silent compliance.
That was it. Even I’ve lost track now.
Q gathered his measuring tape, leather, and various tools, then recorded the facial measurements of Sion’s entire party.
Sion examined one of Q’s finished Face Masks with obvious appreciation, murmuring, “Quite masterfully made,” and Q felt an odd disconnect watching him. What was this feeling?
He truly was an inscrutable man.
“The measurements are complete. However, given the various procedures involved, it will take some time. For now, allow me to show you to your accommodations.”
Q led the way out, and Sion’s party followed in his wake. As they descended the stairs, Q noticed the floors below were growing noisy.
“Do you have any idea who I am!”
The sharp, thin voice contrasted sharply with the blustering tone.
“Get your manager here at once! Listen carefully—you made me wait, and I am extremely displeased. My father will not take this lightly!”
The manner was authoritative and arrogant, yet the content was anything but persuasive.
Q felt his aristocrat-loathing reflex activate.
‘That voice—it’s unmistakably Bester Stern. Damned fool. He’s back again.’
Q hurried downstairs to face Stern. With other guests present—
“Young Lord. Welcome. Please, come this way.”
“Ahem! Q, the price for making me wait is steep. You understand?”
Stern threw out an absurd complaint. Q’s patience was wearing dangerously thin, but with other patrons around, he decided to humor him for now.
“Of course. Naturally. Come, let’s head to my office. I’ll bring out some fine spirits.”
“Hmph! Yes, well. Let’s see what you have, then.”
Stern and his secretary followed Q up the stairs, when they met Sion’s party coming down in the opposite direction.
Stern was about to shout at whoever dared block his path, but the moment his eyes met those of a golden-haired man, his voice caught in his throat.
‘What, what is this?’
Eyes that seemed to hold an abyss within them. Burning flames flickered in that gaze, and they pressed down upon Stern’s chest.
As Stern faltered, Sion passed him without a second glance. As though he weren’t worth acknowledging.
Even his companions regarded Stern with the disdain one might show toward an insect as they walked past.
They said nothing, but the dismissal was unmistakable. His pride cracked.
How dare they? I am a chosen one. An aristocrat! You dare look at me with such eyes?
His bloated sense of self could not tolerate even the slightest disrespect, and Stern spun around with his face contorted in fury.
“You filthy bastards!”
But Sion and his party were already gone.
“Aaaagh! Son of bitches!”
Stern’s rage poured out. And he recalled that face. That pretty, golden-haired man. I hate men who look like you most of all.
Only after making an unfortunate vow—that he would hunt down anyone resembling that man and force them to their knees—did he turn to follow Q upstairs again.
Watching Stern, Q let out a quiet sigh. Did the Inspection Bureau’s Knights never arrest aristocrats? The thought came unbidden.
In the end, Q managed to appease Stern only by handing over three bottles of his carefully hoarded Snow Walker vodka, Blue Label edition.
An empty office.
“Hell. Damned fool.”
Q swore to ease the exhaustion of a grueling day as he tidied up.
“……Where did it go?”
The sample Face Mask he’d set aside for display was missing. And suddenly, a memory surfaced.
‘Ah, yes. Sion Karsen was handling that Face Mask.’
Obvious.
Sion Karsen had taken it with him.
“Ah, well. Hah. Today really was exhausting.”
The Returned Sword Mage Devours the North
Author
: Carelessness
Date of Publication
: June 16, 2026
Publisher
: Acesis Media Inc.
Editor
: Acesis Media Editorial Team
Address
: 10F Urban Bench Building, 325 Teheran-ro, Gangnam-gu, Seoul, South Korea
Email
: [email protected]
※ This work is published by Acesis Media Inc. in accordance with the copyright holder’s agreement,
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 a copyrighted work 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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