The Regressed Magic Swordsman Devours the North - Chapter 9

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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 9. A Shift in Perspective (4)
In the Inspection Bureau’s records, I was currently listed as “[Top Secret Mission in Progress],” which meant I was still technically one of their agents.
Because of that, the matter involving Hashman’s family was processed smoothly. Once the investigation concluded, I drafted a brief report.
Tap—tap—
Though a newly invented Typewriter sat nearby, I picked up a pen and wrote by hand instead.
“The Hashman brothers are members of the Red Fang, and ······.”
The crucial details were the locations of their hideouts—two or three of them. I jotted down what I remembered from newspapers I’d seen before the Regression. The Inspection Bureau’s agents would assume I was simply conducting my investigation duties.
The human mind has a tendency to reshape things it cannot understand into shapes it can.
“The Red Fang is nearly finished, I’d say.”
If I changed the future, wouldn’t the information I’d gathered before the Regression become useless? I worried for a moment, then realized it was a foolish concern.
After all, I’d returned precisely to change the future.
“Lui. And she’ll probably go with him.”
I felt a twinge of guilt for constantly leaving the cleanup to others, but what could I do? That was simply their role.
Once I’d finished the report, I had Roman deliver it to the Inspection Bureau, and then I descended back into the Ancient Ruins to focus on my training.
Shwing! Whoosh! Shwing!
I placed my feet in precise positions and traced exact Sword Paths as I swung my blade.
At first, slow but accurate. Then, as time passed, I gradually increased my speed while maintaining that precision.
‘Still not enough.’
Unlike Magic, Swordsmanship had its limits when it came to reproducing techniques from memory alone.
To execute a single stroke properly in real combat, I needed to practice thousands upon thousands of times until my body remembered it.
Inhale—
Exhale—
Breathing was the foundation of every action, and Footwork was the basis of all Swordsmanship. Neither could be neglected.
Shwing! Crackle—
The more I trained, the more vividly I felt blood coursing through my veins.
The Mana that surged from my Core traveled through my bloodstream, circulating throughout my body—and it was remarkably more refined than before my Regression, which was almost startling.
When I concentrated my awareness on my hands, Mana gathered there. When I focused on my blade, it gathered in the blade. But for now, my hands were easier to control than the sword itself.
‘To grow stronger as a swordsman, I have to close that gap.’
I threw myself back into training. I condensed my burning Aura into the blade and honed it with sharp Sword Qi.
The Karsen School High Sword Technique was originally created for swordsmen wielding Frozen Attribute Mana, so it was fundamentally incompatible with me, who commanded Flame Attribute Mana.
That’s why I sought the aid of House Leonhardt—a house of renowned swordcraft rivaling House Karsen, and once known as the master of the Southern Region.
More precisely, I had learned the secret sword techniques of the now-fallen House Leonhardt.
Normally, teaching a house’s secret techniques to an outsider was a grievous crime. But when humanity itself faced annihilation, what use was jealously guarding such secrets?
In the final days of the Resistance, knowledge was freely shared for the sake of survival, and I had done my part in that exchange.
And from that collaboration, what was born was—
The Karsen School High Sword Technique (Modified).
A sword technique unique to this world, one and only mine. After training for countless hours—
“Phew.”
My entire body drenched in sweat, my clothes clinging heavily to me, I finally left the Ancient Ruins.
As soon as I entered my room, I stripped off my clothes and washed them, rinsed the sweat from my body, and collapsed onto the plush sofa.
On the desk lay a Newspaper and a cup of Black Tea that Roman had brought.
I held the Black Tea in one hand, sipping it, while I read the Newspaper with the other.
Most of it was pointless drivel, when suddenly my eyes snapped open.
“Sion Karsen, taking the lead in ridding the Territory of criminals for its citizens.”
“Sion Karsen.
Is he a dormant predator hiding his true strength?”
Pffft!
I sprayed the Black Tea I’d been holding straight onto the floor in front of me. What the—I was genuinely shocked.
Collecting myself, I calmly dabbed my mouth with a Handkerchief, then read the article again.
And I blinked.
The first word that came to mind was: Why? Suddenly printing such favorable coverage at this stage of things.
Charles from Daily?
What exactly was that man doing?
“······.”
In any case.
There was nothing bad about it.
If anything, it was fortunate.
The stigma of being a small-time crook could shed faster than expected.
I would need to change so many things going forward. And in that process, public support would be essential.
Of course, one or two articles like this wouldn’t change much, but that hardly mattered.
There will be no shortage of opportunities to build a reputation going forward. I should look into this newspaper and its journalist as well.
But the more pressing concern is how to win the Golden Star Tournament—the catalyst that will make my name———
“They’ll put up a fight, won’t they?”
Faces flashed through my mind.
Geniuses like Lui Daiken were certainly a problem, but this tournament would see the emergence of a talent so brilliant it could reduce even such prodigies to mere pebbles beneath its feet.
A young knight whose brilliance stood out even among the exceptional—a genius sculpted by the gods themselves.
I turned my gaze to one of the framed photographs hanging on the wall. I couldn’t recall exactly how old I’d been, but there was a picture of the two of us together from childhood.
Hair like blue silk. Eyes like sapphires. A shy smile.
We were close back then, though.
Beyond that, countless other variables would surface. To seize victory amid them all, I would need———
More experience, and one decisive breakthrough to transcend the limits of this current body.
The key that would unlock every situation was, as always———
The Hwabingryong Dungeon.
That eccentric from the ruins said the first floor held an Essence Elixir that could dramatically strengthen one’s Core.
I gazed out the window for a moment, watching fame drift through empty air.
“Champion of the Golden Star Tournament, then———”
Just then.
Knock, knock.
“Young master, Kuseto Daiker has come to see you.”
“Let him in.”
It was an earlier visit than expected.
When Kuseto entered, his complexion was poor. Whatever else was true, one thing was certain: he hadn’t slept properly.
He extended a heavy bag with trembling hands.
“Twelve billion Jeni———. It’s here.”
I took the bag without ceremony and opened it to find high-denomination checks packed densely inside.
Wow. I barely managed to suppress the smile threatening to bloom across my face. I couldn’t show any expression here—I needed to keep pressing him.
“Now you’ll forget all about this, right?”
Of course he would.
There was no evidence anyway.
“Get out.”
Kuseto chewed his lip and glared at me, the vein bulging on his forehead speaking volumes of his rage.
“Sion. I hold sway over the Northern Region’s noble circles. Are you truly not going to regret this?”
At his anger-trembling voice, I let out a soft snort. It was nothing. I was the third son of House Karsen. What did it matter if he commanded the noble social scene?
I drew Mana from my Core. Then I rolled my foot slightly.
Thump.
A wave rippled out from my foot. The wave that spread across me, Kuseto, and the bag reflected back, returning to its source.
Searching for mechanical devices using waves———
This, too, was one of Durki’s Tricks, and with it I could find most things.
Ting———
Sure enough. Hidden inside the bag were a Wiretapping Device and a Tracking Device. I extracted them deftly and held them up before his eyes.
“———!”
His eyes trembled as if seized by an earthquake. Crack! I clenched my fist and crushed the device, then drove it straight into his chest.
Thump.
“Watch your tone.”
Thump. Thump. Thump———
“I told you not to speak to me casually.”
“———Understood, sir.”
“Get out.”
At the curt dismissal, Kuseto forced a smile and turned to leave. I didn’t need to see his face as he departed—I could already picture it.
Humiliation from being overpowered for the first time. Shame burning through him. He’d go back and smash things to pieces, then scheme some way to stab me in the back.
I hoped he would. When that day came, I’d expose all those traitors to humanity he’d thrown his lot with to the world.
Then his usefulness would be at an end.
***
I dressed in a black Formal Suit and pulled on a Bowler Hat, then stepped outside. Today was clear, free of blizzards.
“Young master. Good morning.”
Roman still wore his heavy coat and opened the car door for me. I settled into the back seat and spoke.
“Take me to the Magical Tool shop in District 14 of Seiren.”
“Very good, sir.”
Vroom———
The car glided smoothly onto the road. But———was it my imagination? Roman’s driving seemed to have improved since before.
Perhaps the blizzard had passed. Unlike last time, the streets weren’t empty of people.
As the weather grew warmer, crowds poured out to handle the backlog of tasks.
The Northern Region had a smaller population than the Eastern, Western, and Southern Regions, but Seiren, the capital, was different.
This place, governed directly by House Karsen, was regarded as safer than any other land in the Northern Region, and countless people went about their various trades.
I’d heard that territories ruled by other nobles were far more barren by comparison.
But in the larger scheme, those too fell within the Karsen duchy. In the end, they all lay within father’s sphere of influence.
I would make the entire Northern Region prosper. Without a strong, flourishing North, there would be no way to hold back those things that threaten to fill heaven and earth.
Before long, I’d arrived in District 14, and I surveyed the street. More precisely, I scanned the storefronts for a sign.
“Twelve Magical Tools. Found it.”
The place with the inscription exactly reading “12 Magical Tools.”
Cling.
As I stepped inside, a bell above the door chimed to announce a customer. It seemed to be a type of magical tool itself, though I couldn’t fathom its workings.
The shop’s interior was cluttered like an ironmonger’s stall, and nothing was organized—it was impossible to tell what was what.
Quill pens rested atop parchment scrolls of magic, and broken crystal orbs sat beside inkwells.
The sharp scent of concoctions that tickled the nose, mingled with the metallic tang of aged metal, contributed to the dizzying atmosphere.
Artifacts buried deep on shelves, caked in dust, looked no different from junk at first glance. In truth, most of them probably were.
But a few items in this place were the genuine article. And today, I’d come to collect them.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. I see a distinguished guest has graced this humble shop. What brings you here?”
An elderly man with snowy white hair emerged, walking with a slightly hunched gait. This was definitely the place.
Before the Regression, there had been an eccentric obsessed with magical tools. He’d said something like this.
-Hey, Sion. You lived in Seiren in the Northern Region? That’s where my grandfather used to run his shop.
-What did he sell?
-Magical tools, of course! “12 Magical Tools” in District 14! My father, who was called a genius, created the pieces there. Even though they fall short of my father’s and my masterworks, they surpass ordinary magical tools, don’t they? Heh heh. Though Grandfather did treat them as junk.
He’d said that “12 Magical Tools” came from the old man kissing his grandmother twelve times a day, and the name was engraved on the sign as a memento of that. Even now, I found it quite romantic.
This was that place, and this was that old man.
‘So this white-haired elder was a romantic.’
“I’ve come to purchase several magical tools.”
“Feel free to browse.”
“That Ice Sword. And this teal necklace, that ring as well. I’d like this Secret Blade too.”
The old man gathered the magical tools I’d pointed to with bright eyes, bundled them carefully with cord, and spoke.
“The total comes to 1.9 million Jeni.”
“I’ll take the scrolls in that container as well.”
“How many would you like?”
“All of them.”
“…I beg your pardon?”
“All of them.”
“Ah, yes.”
“What’s the total?”
“7.2 million Jeni.”
The old man’s expression remained impassive as he stated the amount, yet somehow the face of a lost comrade overlapped with his.
I, who had suffered significant bodily loss, had received much help from that comrade, and he had yearned for his grandfather.
I placed a check into the old man’s hand. A sum of thirty million Jeni. And I smiled faintly as I spoke.
“I’ll put this to good use. Thank you very much.”
“Yes. Please come again.”
As the old man lowered his gaze to examine the check, I left the shop without looking back and boarded the car.
-WAAAAAH! What is this? How much is all this?!
I heard the grandfather’s astonished cry from a distance.
“Let’s go.”
Vroom.
Afterward, I made several more purchases of expensive medicinal herbs and various types of Magic Scrolls.
A Returned Sword Master Devours the Northern Region
Author
: Bang Sim
Production Date
: June 16, 2026
Publisher
: (Inc.) Axis Media
Editor
: Axis Media Editorial Team
Address
Seoul, Gangnam-gu, Teheran-ro 325, Urban Bench Building, 10th Floor
Email
: [email protected]
※ This work has been published by ACES Media Co., Ltd. in accordance with a contract with the copyright holder,
and the contents may not be used in any form or by any means without the permission of the company and the 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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