Regressing as the Reincarnated Bastard of the Sword Clan

Chapter 318

The barrier slowly parted, revealing the Mage Tower's hidden stronghold.

The scene within was striking. A crowd stood in a circular formation, and at its center, Nazariou wore a serene expression, as though entirely unbothered.

Seeing this, Theo felt his anger surge. At that moment, his eyes met Lodbrok’s. Lodbrok let out a faint chuckle, seemingly resigned, and extended his hand forward.

A small magical circle materialized.

“Go,” Lodbrok said.

Boom!

At the sound, Theo pushed off the ground, leaving behind a shockwave. In an instant, Lodbrok's magic dismantled the stronghold's barrier, leaving the hidden refuge exposed.

Theo’s body radiated dark energy, black lightning crackling around him.

Slash!

The sound of slicing flesh rang out as Theo severed the leg of the man linked to the tracking spell. It happened so fast that the man couldn’t even scream despite losing a limb.

Everyone in the vicinity—Hexagram Knights and Nazariou alike—froze in place.

Crackle!

Sparks flew from where Theo landed, his movements unrelenting.

“What… what just happened…!” Nazariou stammered, his mind struggling to process the events.

Before his eyes, the protective barrier dissolved into nothing, and above it all, the icy golden gaze of Lodbrok loomed.

“Aaaaaaah!”

“Noooo!”

The air filled with piercing screams, the sound of sheer despair.

Simultaneously—

Thud. Thud.

The sound of bodies collapsing one after another echoed through the clearing. Nazariou’s trembling eyes darted around, taking in the horrifying scene.

One by one, the Hexagram Knights fell like trees cut by an axe, each accompanied by a final, anguished scream. A black, magnetic field encased the area, and for the first time, Nazariou saw the assailant clearly.

“Theo Ragnar!”

Even recognizing his attacker, Nazariou couldn’t react. All he felt was rage and helplessness. He knew the truth: the image of Theo before him was nothing more than an afterimage.

The real Theo left traces everywhere—front, back, and to the sides—making him impossible to track.

Slash!

The final sound of cutting reached Nazariou's ears, and his vision tilted upwards as he realized he was looking at the sky.

“Aaaaaahhh!”

Belated pain surged through him, and he screamed in agony.

Thunk.

A blade pressed against his throat. The cold steel sent shivers down his spine. He followed the line of the weapon upward, meeting Theo’s emotionless, shadowed eyes.

“Kill me,” Nazariou muttered, barely above a whisper.

Perhaps he had known from the moment the stronghold was breached, or even when Theo entered the fray, that his plan had already failed. He had clung to pride, but now, as reality crashed down, he accepted the futility of it all.

Whip!

The sound of the blade slicing the air filled the clearing, followed by the spray of blood as Theo severed the tendons in all four of Nazariou’s limbs.

“Aaaaaahhh!”

Nazariou writhed in pain, unable even to move as his body was overcome with searing agony.

“Why… why would Ragnar go this far! What has the Mage Tower ever done to you?” Nazariou shouted, tears of blood streaking his face.

But Theo didn’t respond. Just hearing the words filled him with disgust, as if they were rotting his very ears. Still, Nazariou’s cries continued.

“Is the Mage Tower’s rise so terrifying to you? Is my ambition—my sacrifices—so insignificant to you?!”

His voice grew hoarse as he screamed, alternating between fury and despair. He glanced desperately between Theo and Lodbrok, pouring out his resentment. But his words were nothing more than hollow justifications, the desperate defense of a defeated man.

“If it weren’t for that being, the Mage Tower could have surpassed you!”

“That being?”

For the first time, Theo’s expression shifted. Something clicked in his mind.

There had been a mention in the quest log—a reference to the Tomb of the Absolute.

“So, that’s what they were after…”

Understanding dawned on Theo. The Mage Tower had cooperated with Hilda to secure the remains of the Absolute, likely as part of their agreement.

“A tempting offer for them. The Absolute's name is written in every piece of history on the continent, and the relics buried with them—spellbooks, artifacts—are priceless.”

Looking at Nazariou, Theo thought grimly, Even if he returned to the Mage Tower now, his death would be certain.

Having failed after receiving such resources, Nazariou would undoubtedly face execution. Perhaps that explained his willingness to delve into forbidden dark magic.

“So, this is the fate of the man who might have been called the Ivory King.”

Theo stared down at Nazariou’s tear-filled eyes, his gaze devoid of sympathy.

“Let’s die together, you hypocritical bastards,” Nazariou spat, a faint glow beginning to emanate from his chest.

Theo reacted instantly, driving his sword into Nazariou’s mana core, physically shattering it.

“Too late.”

The self-destructive spell had already been activated. Light poured from Nazariou’s eyes, nose, and mouth.

Boom!

A deafening explosion rocked the stronghold, sending dust and debris into the air. The force of the blast was enough to obliterate everything within its radius.

“Did the intruders die?”

“Lord Nazariou…” muttered the survivors, barely clinging to life outside the blast zone. Some wept for their leader, while others clung to the faint hope of survival.

Then, the dust began to settle.

Whoosh.

The faint breeze revealed two figures standing amidst the destruction.

“…”

The survivors stared in disbelief. That anyone could survive such a catastrophic explosion was unimaginable, yet here they were.

What struck them even harder was the condition of those two figures.

“Not a single scratch…?”

Neither Theo nor Lodbrok bore so much as a mark on their bodies. Even their clothing remained pristine. Theo’s crimson eyes, brimming with a menacing aura, locked onto the survivors.

“Only three left alive?” Theo remarked, almost disappointed.

With those words, he seized one of the survivors by the head.

Crash!

He drove the man’s skull into the ground, knocking him unconscious.

“Loddy, can you erase all their memories?” Theo asked.

“After that, do you think there’s anything left to erase?” Lodbrok replied with a faint chuckle, gesturing toward the fractured ground.

Lodbrok stepped forward, placing his left hand on the remaining two survivors' chests, emitting a soft blue light. With his right hand, he traced a sigil in the air.

Snip.

A sharp sound accompanied the severing of their tongues, ensuring they would never speak of what they had witnessed.

“This should suffice,” Lodbrok said, dusting off his hands.

Theo carefully inspected their mouths, checking for hidden poisons. Once satisfied, he turned toward the cave that had been revealed by the explosion.

The moment he stepped inside, his face twisted in disgust.

“This is vile.”

The stench of decay and the oppressive cold emanating from the cave spoke of countless atrocities. It was a place where the initial chimeras had been created—a laboratory of horrors.

“Don’t go in,” Lodbrok warned, placing a hand on Theo’s shoulder.

“This place isn’t worth your time. It’s nothing but the birthplace of those abominations.”

Theo nodded, his grip tightening on his sword. The rising sun behind him cast a somber glow.

Whoosh!

With a single swing, flames engulfed the cave, incinerating everything within. For a fleeting moment, Theo caught sight of the grotesque remains, the pitiful fragments of what had once been lives.

“Pain isn’t just expressed through faces.”

The bloodstains and flesh scattered across the cave seemed to scream in anguish.

“May even the pain burn away.”

Bowing his head in silent prayer, Theo stood quietly as Lodbrok purified the area. Golden light seeped into the ground, lifting dark energy into the air and dispersing it.

As the light faded, the souls of the departed began to flow peacefully toward their final rest.

“Warm…”

For the first time in a long while, Theo felt his heavy heart grow lighter. Unnoticed tears welled in his eyes as faint whispers of gratitude brushed against his fingertips.

When the last of the golden light disappeared, Lodbrok spoke.

“We’ll be busy for a while. Who knows how many places like this are left.”

Carrying the unconscious Mage Tower survivors, Lodbrok signaled their departure.

“Your burden grows heavier, Loddy,” Theo remarked.

“It always does,” Lodbrok replied.

As they walked back toward the Naga Sanctuary, Theo glanced behind him. Life was slowly returning to the forest, the trees regaining their vitality.

Following Lodbrok’s lead, Theo continued onward, feeling the weight of all he had seen and endured.

“How many more hells must I witness?”

Even in his previous life, he had never encountered such horrors. His head throbbed with the burden of it all.

Despite the boiling rage and lingering bloodlust, Theo found himself unsure of how to proceed with the captured mages.

The two arrived at the Naga Sanctuary in heavy silence.