Regressor of the Fallen Family

Less than a week after Rogan and the Sword Master returned from their audience with the king, the long-awaited event happened. The Sword Master, who was in the middle of training, heard the news and rushed into the inner house, visibly startled. That very day, the heir to the Esperanza family was born.

“Uahaha!” A familiar laugh could be heard, even though no one was nearby.

It was a day when, had it been a commoner’s baby, they would have been wrapped warmly in a corner of the room, away from any strangers’ gazes. The Sword Master’s mansion had been bustling for weeks in preparation for the ‘daughter’ of the Sword Master’s party.

The birth celebration was both a tradition of the Grandia nobility and usually reserved for the birth of sons, but the Sword Master’s unusual love for his child prompted most of the capital’s nobility to accept the invitation.

Logan, whose purpose in coming to the capital was this very party, of course also attended.

-“Introducing the heir to the Maclaine family, young master Rogan Maclaine.”

As the servant announced his name, the doors to the banquet hall opened and eyes turned to observe Logan. The situation had changed dramatically from the previous year when he had lurked around the parties of the capital because of Imporlic.

The disciple of the Sword Master.

That title alone was enough to overflow with interest in him.

“He’s only twenty-one.”

Murmurs of curiosity poured in.

And naturally, it wasn’t just looks that followed him.

“Young master Rogan, may I have a moment of your time…”

“Master Rogan, it is an honor to meet you. I am…”

The aggressive approaches were enough to fluster Logan.

Fortunately, the attention on him did not last too long. By a curious twist of fate, the evening’s most important guest arrived immediately after him.

-Representative of the King of Grandia, the delegate of the Union Church, Bishop Crimson Matthew has arrived!

As the servant exclaimed, an elderly man with neatly combed white hair, donning a long white judicial hat, entered. His ecclesiastical robe was also pure white, save for the nine circles depicted on it.

The entrance of the old man, the symbol of kindness, prompted all nobles to bow their heads to him. The bishop in turn offered a slight bow to the party’s host seated at the high table.

“Congratulations on the birth of your descendent, Duke.”

“Thank you, Bishop. It’s a great honor to have you here in person.”

The Sword Master also rose to return the gesture. Normally, any position at or above the High Priest within a church could not be disregarded by someone of the Sword Master’s status.

The old man chuckled at the proper etiquette displayed.

“How could I send someone else? It’s the mainstay of this country, the Sword Master’s child that has been born. It’s only right that I personally provide the blessing.”

“Haha. Once again, I truly appreciate it.”

In Grandia, as well as most of the continent’s nobility, it was considered imperative for a child to receive the divine blessing upon birth. It was believed that these blessings could influence the abilities and temperament of future generations.

Not being able to have a priest perform the child’s blessing was considered a sign of a fallen family. Among these, the blessing from the fifth god Agna, the god of trees and life, was sought by all parents for their child’s health. Hence, a blessing from Bishop Crimson Matthew, a high-ranking cleric, was especially appreciated by the Sword Master.

With everyone in the banquet hall focused, the bishop slowly made his way to the high table.

The most prestigious place in the hall.

Normally this would have been the Duke’s seat, but now an elegant small bed, unbecoming of a party setting, was placed there.

Upon it lay a tiny child swaddled in soft-looking blankets, sleeping peacefully until the mother, with a pale complexion, carefully lifted her child in her arms. The child then woke up to the unfamiliar touch and cried out.

“Whaaa!”

“As a humble servant, I implore the nine divine gods to look upon us…”

The bishop, lifting the child, began to murmur as all eyes and ears attended to the ceremony, with his gentle voice adding to the baby’s cries. Soon, a white light, barely visible through the white clerical robe, slowly began to intensify, enveloping both the bishop’s body and the infant.

‘So, this is divine power.’

Logan concentrated his senses as he witnessed divine power for the first time in this life. In his past life, he only thought of these as sudden, miraculous occurrences that changed situations without feeling any flow of power.

Even the divine power of intermediate priests had been invisible to his eyes.

But the sensation he felt now was different.

‘Closer to the source than Force, more hidden than Mana. No wonder it’s so hard for others to perceive.’

Even though he already knew his sensory abilities, to be precise, his cognitive abilities were exceptionally beyond the realm, he simply imprinted the newly felt characteristics of divine power in his mind as he watched the consecration process.

“Wow!”

“Truly the Bishop!”

“Such clear divine power!”

As exclamations arose around him, the baby held by the bishop stopped crying and blinked with wide blue eyes, seemingly fascinated by the light.

“In the name of Agna, the god of life, I bless the newly born offspring of Esperanza.”

Flash!

As a dazzling white light filled the banquet hall and then dissipated, applause erupted.

“Duke, congratulations!”

“Such a strong light, this child is bound to be remarkable!”

“Congratulations, Duke!”

The Sword Master smiled brightly amidst the applause while simultaneously bowing in gratitude to the guests.

However, only two people in the entire room were not smiling—Bishop Crimson and Logan.

‘The divine power rebounded off the baby?’

Logan accurately perceived that the final bright light was not the maximization of the blessing but rather a reflection off the baby’s body.

If he had felt it, how could the bishop, the person concerned, not realize it? The bishop, with a bewildered expression, handed the crying baby back to the birth mother and once again invoked the white light.

“You’ve done well, Duchess. Please take some time to rest comfortably with the child.”

Once again bathed in the white light, the Duchess’s complexion eased slightly, and the baby stopped crying, seemingly enjoying the warmth.

But.

‘Again?’

The child’s body repelled the divine power once more.

Even the bishop, feigning composure, had a noticeable stiffened expression.

“What’s the matter, Bishop?”

“Oh, nothing. Your Grace. The child is so lovely I must have lost myself for a moment.”

However, the bishop’s complexion was far from serene.

The Sword Master also felt something amiss, his own expression tightening slightly.

“Oh, it’s been a long time since I’ve done a blessing. Perhaps I’m a bit tired. Excuse me, I think I must retire early.”

There was no stopping the church’s bishop from leaving.

“Ladies and Gentlemen! Enjoy the party! Let’s celebrate the birth of new life! Raise your glasses!”

The Sword Master quickly tried to revitalize the atmosphere in the wake of the bishop’s abrupt departure. Even though the bishop’s departure left a few doubts in the minds of some, Logan’s thoughts were clouded with unease.

‘… Why?’

It could have just been an insignificant coincidence.

Actually, the chances of that were more likely. After all, divine power was essentially just another branch of ability; maybe the baby simply had a unique constitution that rejected it.

Logan tried to dismiss his lingering discomfort as mere coincidence, but it didn’t easily subside.

Then.

“It’s been a while, Rogan Maclaine.”

A familiar voice reached his ears.

He turned to see a middle-aged man with golden hair and blue eyes, lifting his glass with a chilly smile.

“Yes, it has been a while, Count Bifrost.”

“Indeed. It’s a pity to see you looking so well.”

A cheap provocation from someone of such high rank made Logan smile thinly in return.

“Thanks to you.”

“… Still smooth-tongued.”

“And still brazen.”

“That’s part of my charm.”

Logan deliberately grinned annoyingly as he replied.

Crack.

Clink.

The count’s wineglass shattered, drawing the attention of those around them.

“Ah, such a clumsy mistake. It seems my hands have been slipping lately with age.”

Roger Bifrost exhaled quietly, then with a cunning look on his face, he summoned a servant to clean his dirty hands.

Once people’s interest died down and their attention returned to the Sword Master seated at the high table, the count moved closer to Logan and whispered secretly.

“Be grateful that you fortuitously became a disciple of the Sword Master and preserved your life. You’ve drawn the attention of high-ranking individuals; you’re a lucky fellow indeed.”

“Of course, I’m aware that I’m fortunate.”

Otherwise, he would not have been able to return to the past.

This was not sarcasm but genuine sentiment.

Yet his answer was enough to twist the count’s face in aggravation.

“Yes. Be sure to maintain that attitude in front of someone of higher station.”

“… Someone of higher station?”

“Romain von Grandia. His Highness the Second Prince wishes to meet you. Though I hope you refuse, of course.”

It was phrased vaguely, but it was clear enough for anyone but a fool to understand.

Join the Second Prince’s faction. If you don’t want to die.

It was pretty much a threat.

But Logan smiled broadly at the count’s stern face.

“It would be an honor to be introduced to His Highness. I will carefully consider your proposal.”

“Impudent… Are you taking the Prince’s command as a mere proposal?”

“It is a proposal, isn’t it? Unless you’d prefer I discuss this with my master before going with you?”

Logan gestured towards the other side of the party hall, and the count’s expression grew even more severe. After a moment of silence, Roger Bifrost clenched his teeth and turned away.

“I’ll set a date for you soon. Remember, if this is also a deception, you will face a fate beyond your imagination.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Logan watched as Roger Bifrost walked away, chuckling inwardly.

‘Why would I not be able to say anything?’

The internal conflict was just a few months away from happening.

Even if the meeting was postponed, afterward no prince or duke would have time to attend to him.

The count, only a border margrave who was running errands for the Second Prince, was laughable.

They were going to be enemies eventually, so the threat didn’t matter.

‘He probably didn’t choose to deliver the message himself, I assume…’

Logan’s gaze followed Count Bifrost towards a group at the party, focusing on one massive figure at the center.

A man over two meters tall, muscles shown off through a giant custom-made party attire, his dark grey hair resembling a boulder.

‘Yordan Valtermine, the Blaze Sword.’

One of the only three dukes in the kingdom, a superhuman Aura user, and the maternal grandfather of the Second Prince.

The giant, feeling Logan’s gaze, glanced back briefly, but only passed by indifferently, as if to say that Logan was not yet worthy of dialogue, that he was nothing more than dust to him.

‘Well, he’s probably more interested in my master than in me.’

Logan watched with a smile, but then another familiar voice reached his ears.

“That’s right. One should always be thoughtful in decision-making, nephew.”

“Hm?”

A middle-aged man with neatly combed black hair and a somewhat pale complexion.

At the sight of him, Logan’s expression twisted involuntarily.

“Veron… Cairo, the Duke?”

The tone was polite, but it was clear that the name did not bring joy.

However, despite the uncomfortable response, Veron brightened up and approached.

“Hahaha. It’s been some time, young master Rogan. It’s truly gratifying and prideful for someone from your family to see you so grown up. But your statement earlier was too hasty.”

Logan was involuntarily dumbfounded by the man’s forwardness.

– Uncle? Who? Me? Haha, little master. Let’s maintain our respectful distance.

In his very young days, a young man full of confidence had left a deep scratch on Logan’s heart, but now the man had aged and replaced his confidence with shamelessness.

Understandably, Logan had no intention of politely acquiescing.

“The family elder? Who would that be? Surely you don’t mean yourself?”

“Of course, you and I are not related by blood. But who does not know that the Maclaines and the Cairoses are related by marriage?”

Veron Cairo was by no means a figure to compare with Roger Bifrost.

However, within the First Prince’s faction, they were, after all, the house closest to Maclaine.

Of course.

“Hmm, I thought that tie was already severed?”

For Logan, they were even less than strangers.

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