The Regressed Magic Swordsman Devours the North - Chapter 55

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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 55. Rapid Advance
After the warmest August had passed, and the pleasant September faded in turn, October arrived as it always did.
The temperature in the Northern Region dropped further still, and the cold wind extinguished even the lingering heat of the tumultuous events.
When the people of the Northern Region first learned of Travis, it struck them like a hammer blow to the head, and soon waves of grief and rage crashed down upon them like a storm—yet.
Now, as time had passed, it felt like nothing more than a dream.
From some point onward, only the exploits of the Inspection Bureau Special Division dominated every conversation.
This shift inevitably sparked opposing reactions.
Those who celebrated were honest laborers, conscientious business owners, and nobles who thought of their territories and the people within them.
Those who expressed displeasure and discontent were tax-evading officials, stagnant territorial administrators, exploitative industrialists, and nobles who viewed their lands and subjects as mere tools.
What was certain: Sion’s influence grew with each action, though some forces watched less the results of his deeds than the transformation itself.
In a secret chamber within the Central Empire.
Amid pervasive darkness, light filtered through a curtain riddled with holes.
On the pitch-black floor, circles of light formed droplet patterns.
At the edge of that light gleamed black shoes, and following upward rose a man in formal dress. His lips parted slowly.
“…The situation has unfolded in a direction I never anticipated.”
The man was the chairman of Post 24’s headquarters and the massive Central Empire corporation Hectagon Industries.
El Van Riki.
He felt both dismay and a curious fascination that he had not only lost Post 24 but that all related equipment and research data had vanished.
“I shall refund your investment. My apologies.”
The figure to whom El Van Riki apologized sat in a chair wearing a pristine white mask.
“Hahahaha! Yet your expression seems rather delighted?”
The mask bore a beaming smile, and its wearer laughed heartily, yet the eyes beneath it remained utterly cold—an eerie, unsettling contrast.
“That cannot be. However, when variables arise, my blood stirs with excitement.”
“Kekek. How like you.”
He was Hectagon’s largest investor and one of the Central Empire’s most prominent nobles.
Hector Bin Lande.
He brought to his lips a cigar crafted from refined Red Mana Stone.
Swish—
Air was drawn inward.
Crackle—
Flame ignited at the cigar’s tip, and for an instant the spark blazed forth like fury given light.
“Exhale—”
Crimson smoke billowed into the air.
“The frozen Northern Region has begun to change. A variable is indeed a variable—worthy of your interest. However.”
Hector Bin Lande gazed at two photographs laid upon the desk.
David Carsen.
Sion Carsen.
“The son of House Karsen, you say… Has that man not yet made his move?”
He broke into laughter above the mask once more. Of course, the eyes beneath remained unmoved.
“Will you investigate him? Riki?”
“I shall.”
“Inform me of your findings as well. Ah, and keep the investment funds. After all, there is no one else to conduct the research. Resume your work with all haste.”
“…As you command.”
Masked Hector rose from his seat with another burst of laughter, while El Van Riki bent himself nearly double in a bow.
Thud—thud—
Riki remained bowed until Hector’s footsteps faded completely beyond the secret chamber’s threshold, only then straightening.
A smile played across his lips.
“Kekek. A race that has forgotten how to smile genuinely. What kind of human masquerade is this?”
Riki adjusted his clothing and drew back the hole-riddled curtain.
Whoosh—
The most prosperous place on this continent and in all the world—the Central Empire. A flourishing city reflected in Riki’s eyes.
“Sion Carsen. Are you a harbinger of prosperity?”
His gaze kindled with intrigue.
***
Bwindol returned to his homeland, Hartzman, alone.
Ordinarily, he would not have been granted leave during his duties.
Yet it became possible because Sion had told him: “I have matters to attend to for a time. Take this and return home,” granting him the time.
In Bwindol’s hands was a large wooden box that Sion had taken pains to find and give him. He gripped it as though it were infinitely precious.
His homeland was a place where vast expanses of green meadows, orchards, and wheat fields dominated, with wisps of white smoke curling from the chimneys of every house.
He could see farmers busy with threshing from dawn, having just finished the harvest.
Whoooosh—
A crisp wind swept across the plains, and with it came memories from Bwindol’s childhood, precious moments that seemed to bloom back to life.
The kind of memories everyone carries in a corner of their heart.
Before his uncle disappeared. The scent of his happy hometown stirred his nostalgia all the more keenly.
Then.
A village woman passing by with various goods spotted Bwindol and approached him.
“Bwindol! You’ve come back?”
“Hello, ma’am.”
“My, when did you become so handsome?”
“You’re lovely too, ma’am.”
“This boy’s tongue—”
No one dislikes being called beautiful. The woman broke into a smile.
“My daughter’s seventeen now. Shall I arrange something for you soon?”
Bwindol protested that she shouldn’t say such useless things, yet a smile never left his lips.
Further down the road he spotted a boy cleaning up animal droppings, and caught the aroma of a bakery selling fresh bread.
“Karen.”
“Oh, there you are. Here, eat this.”
Karen thrust bread into his hands without ceremony—fresh butter and warm from the oven.
It was a scent impossible to resist.
“Thank you.”
“Oh~”
So Bwindol arrived at his family’s house, which was surprisingly large for a commoner’s dwelling.
“It’s worth it that I’ve been sending the wages steadily.”
The price difference between countryside and city was considerable, and since Bwindol sent most of his Inspection Bureau knight’s salary here, his family was counted among the wealthy in these parts.
From a distance, Bwindol’s mother spotted her son and waved. It was not the sort of reunion where she rushed from afar and threw her arms around him in tears.
“Son. It’s been so long. Come here.”
“Yes, Mother. And—this.”
Bwindol handed over the wooden coffin he had carried from Cardis, and his mother received it.
His mother already seemed to know what it was. Her eyes sank deep.
“It’s Uncle’s ashes.”
“I see……”
Self-defense units had already made their rounds throughout Travis. Many people who had been kidnapped by criminal organizations had returned to their hometowns.
Recently, even Seiren police had visited to explain the truth of the incident.
So she thought—it could be this way.
Then.
“Bwindol?”
“Huh? Really you.”
“See? I told you I was coming.”
“Karl, Ron. Good to see you.”
Bwindol’s cousins Karl and Ron returned from their harvest work, and their eyes fell upon the coffin.
Bwindol hung his head. His mother’s eyes were reddening.
Karl and Ron understood at once what the coffin held.
“Thank you, Bwindol. You’ve brought Father home.”
“He’s truly remarkable, isn’t he? What a blessing for you, Aunt!”
Karl and Ron smiled brightly at Bwindol. They understood.
What spirit had driven Bwindol up to Seiren from this rural village.
What heart had made him an Inspection Bureau knight. How much effort he had poured into it all.
That night.
Bwindol built a tomb for his uncle with his parents and cousins.
The location was naturally beside his aunt’s grave. He laid both of them to rest together in a sunny spot of Hartzman, then wiped away tears for a moment.
Though the reunion with family was brief, for Bwindol it was a time to pull out the nail driven into his heart, to fill the deep gaps it had carved.
The next day.
“Well then, I should be going.”
Bwindol said his farewells in the courtyard.
His father, mother, Karl, and Ron came out to see him off.
“Take care of yourself.”
“Tell Master Sion he has our thanks.”
“You don’t need to send wages anymore. We can get by on our own. We’re more than comfortable.”
“Don’t get hurt. Write to us.”
Bwindol nodded in understanding and spoke.
“Then. I’ll come back another time.”
He turned his back on his homeland and walked away.
As he walked, his mind churned.
Was this truly the result of my own efforts? If it hadn’t been for Prince Sion…….
Bwindol felt a spark kindle in his chest.
“The Special Division.”
He savored the words. The founding mission to overturn the Northern Region was complete. Now there was nothing holding him back.
Whoooosh—
The cold wind swept in again, tousling Bwindol’s hair.
He stopped and looked back toward his homeland, placing a hand over his heart. To the Special Division, and to Sion—I swear my loyalty.
So he swore an oath.
***
Before the E5 Frensis Company building and the research institute of Post 24, barricades marked [ENTRY FORBIDDEN], [SEALED], [SEIZED] hung in place.
As Inspection Bureau agents moved busily about, two knights radiating immense pressure regarded each other.
“Ulian.”
“Yes, sir.”
Inspection Bureau Director Midgal Rau and Flag Bearer Captain Ulian spoke for what felt like the first time in ages.
“I hear you’ve had your hands full with this matter.”
“It is only thanks to the Young Lord’s capable work.”
The two knights who once trusted each other with their lives on ancient battlefields now conversed with an odd formality.
They had stood back-to-back drenched in demonic blood, fists locked in combat. How had things come to this?
The Iron-Blooded Knight and the Snow Leopard—two souls had become so entirely different.
Would it have been different if that hellish war against the Demonic Beasts had never ended, had only continued?
That was something they would never know. They could only find their own paths through the currents of the age.
“And how does the Lord of House Karsen fare?”
Ulian asked.
“The Lord…….”
Midgal paused slightly. Ulian interpreted the meaning in his own way.
‘Since the Lady passed, he has still remained withdrawn.’
At the thought alone, his mouth turned bitter.
But.
“Lately, he has taken up the sword again.”
“……!?”
At Midgal’s words, Ulian’s eyes widened in shock. His pupils trembled violently.
He had never been this surprised, not even when Sion resolved the entire Travis affair.
“It seems the Young Lord’s influence has been considerable.”
“Ah…… I see.”
There was no detailed explanation. Yet Ulian laughed as if he understood Midgal’s meaning perfectly.
Sion Karsen. Had he himself not changed upon meeting him? How much more so, then, for the Young Lord’s father.
“That is good to hear.”
“I think so too.”
The two knights’ exchange remained somewhat strained. Yet it was no longer thick with the weight it had carried before.
Perhaps they both sensed it—that in this era of upheaval, a time would come when they must rise again as knights.
Meanwhile, Sion carefully toured Crombel through Post 24’s research institute.
Throughout the tour, Crombel let out continuous sighs.
“Tsk, tsk. All that money and time poured down the drain, and for what? As if such methods could ever yield true evolution.”
Pathetic fools. Is human life so cheap to you? You disgrace the name of scientist. And so on.
“Even if you gathered every person on the continent and transplanted the modification into them, you’d find no more than a hundred suitable candidates. That wretch Jepren must have been a rare exception.”
“Then it would be better to focus on discovering more knights and mages instead.”
“Absolutely!”
Sion supported Crombel’s sentiment and asked whether they could put the seized research data to use.
“We can. Those dog-damned fools have already done what’s done—we can’t change that. But these records? I’m taking them.”
“No more people like Jepren can be allowed to emerge.”
“Obviously. If I’m to experiment, I’ll do it on my own body.”
“That is also unacceptable.”
“Ha! Now you’re nagging at me?”
For all their bickering, the two worked in perfect harmony. Sion compiled even the data he’d gathered through Mana Sense and handed it to Crombel.
Crombel gathered up numerous pieces of research equipment.
Then Sion generated a Mana Wave that enveloped both Doctor Crombel and himself, ensuring no one could hear their conversation.
“Doctor. Have you found any clues regarding Black Mana?”
At that, Crombel grinned widely, his eyes gleaming with the unspoken message: ‘Why are you only asking now! I thought I’d die waiting!’
“Of course! Kha ha ha! If I connect the techniques we’ve obtained here, I think even a modest visualization might be possible! This is a mad leap forward!”
Sion smiled softly upon hearing Crombel’s reply.
“Quite so.”
Crushing Post 24 and its headquarters was naturally a given.
But the truly vital task remained weeding out those traitors among humanity who wielded Black Mana, and acquiring the strength to stand against the Demon Race.
“Such welcome news indeed.”
It was a tremendous stride forward.
The Returning Demon Swordmaster Devours the Northern Region
Author
: Bangsim
Date of Publication
: June 16, 2026
Publisher
: (주)Acesmedia
Editor
: Acesmedia Editorial Team
Address
: 10F Urban Bench Building, 325 Teheran-ro, Gangnam-gu, Seoul
Email
: [email protected]
※ This work is published by (주)Acesmedia pursuant to a contract with the copyright holder.
The contents may not be used in any form or by any means without the permission of the publisher and author.
This ebook is protected under copyright law, and unauthorized reproduction or distribution 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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