Regressor of the Fallen Family

Sshhhh.

The moment he drew the sword…

“Wow…”

From Logan’s lips, only a single exclamation of admiration escaped.

The blade, stretching long and wide in silver, matched perfectly with the cross guard that was about a span in length, along with the flame-shaped pommel. Moreover, the perfect sense of balance that was felt simply by holding it in hand was indescribable. It wasn’t enough to say the sword was well-made. It was as if…

“The sword made for me.”

The length, width, shape, and feel of the blade all fit him just right. It was an incredible sense of unity, like having acquired another arm.

“This can’t be…”

Shwoosh.

When he swung the sword using only a snap of his wrist, the freshness of the grip as it sliced through the air felt exhilarating. Despite looking like it should weigh around 5 kg based on its appearance, it felt as if it only weighed about a third of that.

“A pure mithril sword…”

Mmmm.

The pulse of Force he experimented with briefly lent a brighter luminescence to the sword than usual. Within that bright radiance, Logan recalled the dwarf who had recently been scrutinizing him keenly.

“You’re really extraordinary. Thank you, Hamar…”

It was a sword that one couldn’t help but admire, akin to a work of art. As he stored the sword, marveling anew at the contracted dwarf’s talent,

Thud.

A note that had been wedged in the sheath belatedly fell to the ground.

“I’ll take at least half a year off after making weapons for the knights. I will give it my all! Of course, it won’t be as good as the main piece.”

On the day Logan burst into laughter without realizing it, he spent the whole day swinging his sword, enjoying the dance with his new partner.

* * *

Two weeks had passed since the capture of Sylvan and its incorporation into the Maclaine territory. It’s said, a loyal retainer does not serve two masters. If that was an absolute truth, then the knights of Sylvan, who had been prisoners, must all be betrayers, for they all switched lords and switched allegiances within two weeks. Of course, that is if one doesn’t take into account the special nature of a territorial conflict.

“Still, there might be problems eventually. The knights who served a tyrant won’t all be reliable.”

“That’s to be expected.”

“Eh?”

“What difference would the ones from Teslon make? Work them to the bone, and they won’t have a mind for mischief.”

“…I see.”

Logan scoffed at his father’s response, dismissing his worries.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay on your own?”

“It’s enemy territory. What if I take servants or knights with me and something happens? It’s better to be alone. If I’m alone, I have confidence I can escape from anything.”

Although those were the words of someone with a past life experience as a common knight who managed to evade an empire’s army for 20 years, they obviously didn’t convince.

“One hand can’t compete with two. At least take a few mid-tier knights…”

“Even if I take our whole knight order, we cannot win now. It’s better to go alone.”

“At least take a servant. It’s unbecoming for a noble to be…”

“Looking for dignity might kill those I take along.”

“If things go as you plan, that won’t happen. Unless… you’re planning something?”

“I shall return!”

“Logan? Logan!!”

Thudthudthud.

Leaving behind his shouting father, Logan sped away on horseback.

‘I don’t plan to cause trouble… but it might end up happening.’

He internally swallowed the excuse he couldn’t voice, kicking his horse into full speed.

It would take two days on foot to cross Sylvan territory from the starting point at Sylvan Castle. The journey from the border of that territory to the heart of Bifrost territory and Bifrost Castle would take three days on foot. Yet, for Logan, who had now reached the realm of an advanced knight and could enhance the horse with Force, that five-day distance could be reduced to less than a day.

That was, assuming he paced the horse to allow for ample rest. However, Logan set out, giving himself a full five days.

Rather than entering Bifrost Castle too soon, he intended to personally see the state of the surrounding towns and villages, the conditions of the territory, and to indirectly assess the condition of Bifrost, the potential enemy he would have to fight.

But the reality was different from Logan’s expectations and hopes.

“The lord? A good person, yes. Eh? Of course, I haven’t met them personally, but taxes are low at least. Haha.”

While he avoided entering other castles lest he be unnecessarily detained and lose time, the reactions from the different villages where he spent four days were largely the same.

At least, it meant Bifrost wasn’t practicing tyranny like Sylvan or Fereta.

And that meant…

‘Even as they consolidate power and expand their influence, they have the leisure to not need to excessively exploit their own people.’

Logan naturally tensed his expression.

Finally arriving at the east gate of Bifrost Castle, his attention was caught by a specific banner. An eagle soaring over flames.

‘Fereta…’

It seemed he wasn’t the only one that had timed his arrival so narrowly.

“Who’s that?”

“…The flame emblem?”

“Maclaine?!”

As he approached, an uproar erupted among the Fereta group. At a glance, there were over twenty knights, along with at least a hundred soldiers, and over fifty attendants.

And the leading carriage was nearly the size of a small house.

It was all absurd to Logan. What were they thinking, bringing such a carriage and force?

‘I wonder what they are up to?’

It was too many for an assault and too few for proper escort. It seemed better that he came alone, as that might have lulled them into complacency.

Instead, they took the opposite view.

“Alone?”

“Is he mad? Without a single escort?”

“He must have overtaxed himself in capturing Sylvan.”

“If only we had encountered him sooner, before arriving… Too bad.”

The knights, mumbling what they thought were whispers, were clearly heard by Logan.

He quietly laughed.

‘If only we had met sooner? I wish.’

He truly felt it was a shame. Among their party were three mid-tier knights, but they wouldn’t be enough to stop him.

‘They’re relying on some luck.’

Bifrost saved the Maclaine family, and due to this perfectly timed encounter, its heir was also saved.

It must be that Fereta was using the last of its luck before collapse.

‘Wait another half a year, no, five months now.’

Keeping his murderous intent hidden, Logan moved closer. The Bifrost soldiers immediately blocked his path, drawing their spears.

The tension appeared on the soldiers’ faces, finding the situation ridiculous, Logan managed a hollow laugh.

“Maclaine’s young master? This way, please, someone will guide you separately.”

Knights embroidered with burning rose crests inserted themselves into the commotion.

“Hm. Logan Maclaine. Do I need to go in with those people?”

As Logan displayed his badge, the knight once again bowed, requesting patience.

“Someone will come to guide both heirs shortly. We have already sent word, please wait a moment.”

The mention of ‘someone’ to guide them piqued Logan’s interest. Just then, Fereta’s camp radiated annoying arrogance.

“What’s that? He came like that? I have to be treated on the same level as that brute?”

“Your Highness!”

“Ah, I get it. It would be annoying if he heard from this distance. Ugh, troublesome. If it weren’t for the Count’s mediation, he’d be on his knees begging for his life in front of me.”

‘What? What did he say?’

A ludicrous voice was babbling from the direction of the ornate carriage. An impressive figure with golden hair and blue eyes in a fine noblemen’s cloak smiled falsely at Logan, offering a handshake.

“Fron Fereta. I’ve heard much about you from Lihart. They say you defeated six knights in one breath.”

Logan assessed the young man as the tension in the Bifrost knights loosened a step. Despite being in his mid-twenties, his poise made clear he was a Force user.

The absurd words he had overheard made Logan reluctant to respond, but considering he was in enemy territory, there was no need to stand out with unnecessary actions.

“Pleased to meet you. I am Logan Maclaine.”

Resigning to shake the offered hand,

“But you look so much younger than I expected. The rumors might be a bit exaggerated. Haha.”

Grip.

With those words, an immature attempt to exert strength accompanied the handshake. Disgusted by the childish behavior Logan was about to dismiss it, but an idea struck him.

‘If he’s simple enough, he might just react as I predict.’

‘Let’s see if you can play along.’

Crunch.

The sound that shouldn’t have come from their clasped hands did. Fron’s right hand turned pale, and although he clenched his teeth to bear it, his quivering face couldn’t be hidden.

“Oh, my apologies. I thought you wanted to show your strength…”

Pretending to be apologetic, Logan decided to let go, having had his fun. A normal person would recognize their insufficiency here.

Clang!

“Vile!”

Predictably, Fron drew his sword amid nonsense.

‘You’ve taken the bait!’

Now that Fron had given a pretext, Logan could decapitate him in one fell swoop if necessary.

Of course, there was no need for such brutality. A useless enemy is better than a competent ally, so it was better that he stayed alive.

Thus.

Shick.

He merely cut Fron’s sword in half in one swift move and rested his blade on Fron’s throat. The silver line that stretched from his waist to Fron’s neck was, even to his eyes, perfect—a reflection of the sunset shining on his new sword.

“Why do you utter words you can’t take responsibility for? As an heir of a territory, why do you not understand your place?”

As Logan’s voice dropped, Fron grew even paler.

The Bifrost knights hurried to intervene, solidifying their expressions.

Meanwhile, the Fereta knights did the opposite and stepped forward.

“Scoundrel! How dare you threaten our lord!”

“Attack!”

It seemed both the superiors and subordinates were equally rash.

“No private disputes are allowed in Bifrost’s territories… Eh?”

Before the Bifrost knights could interfere,

Sssshhhhkkkk.

Logan’s sword had already simultaneously sliced through the swords of the three rushing knights.

Crack.

With their bisected swords in hand, the knights, along with others drawn by the noise, stood dumbfounded. Amongst the clamor, Logan deliberately sheathed his sword slowly.

He had intentionally not used the Force, relying purely on his sword’s strength to break his opponents’ blades.

Hamar’s sword. Named Lux, after the ancient word meaning ‘hope’ or ‘dawnlight,’ it possessed a power befitting its name.

‘Any knight would recognize it.’

A glance at the pristine hilt would confirm the sword was freshly made.

Shhrrp.

As planned, Hamar’s diligently forged mithril sword caught everyone’s attention up until the very end when it returned to its sheath.

“It doesn’t feel like an artifact.”

“Right. I don’t sense any magic. But…”

Undoubtedly, it was a remarkable treasure.

The thought simultaneously arose not only in the knights who met each other’s gaze but also in all who witnessed it.

“That’s an impressive sword.”

“Yes, indeed.”

“Would it be impolite to ask where you obtained such a sword? It doesn’t seem ordinary…”

“It would be.”

The avaricious gaze was easily parried by Logan’s immediate and firm tone.

Display the treasure, but not the information behind it.

The curiosity would only intensify the spread of rumors, and in time, those words would surely reach the ears of a certain Count known as a collector.

And if the Count lived up to their epithet, his understanding of Lux’s origins would prevent any reckless actions against Logan.

‘I hadn’t intended to show off like this, but it’s not too bad.’

He didn’t believe his prepared strategies would fail, but it was essential to account for every contingency.

This incident served as a form of insurance.

Amid the murmuring crowd, Logan smiled slyly, and just then,

“…arrived!”

A shout from the castle gatekeepers echoed as a distinctive figure appeared through the gates, drawing all eyes upon them.

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