Regressing as the Reincarnated Bastard of the Sword Clan

Chapter 161: The Successor of the Magic Tower (1)

"Najariu Monte has appeared. Let’s pursue him."

Ray and Wellington, who had been lazily licking their ice creams while seated on a café bench, suddenly stopped when Theo abruptly appeared. Their eyes widened in surprise.

"Najariu Monte?"

"Are you talking about the ‘Magic Prodigy’ from the Three Lords and Eight Geniuses?"

Members of the Three Lords and Eight Geniuses often had additional epithets featuring the characters ‘Lord’ (군) or ‘Prodigy’ (준), similar to their nicknames.

Wellington’s other epithet was the Sword Prodigy. Najariu was known as the Magic Prodigy. Typically, the epithet reflected the field in which the individual had achieved mastery.

"Yes, that’s correct."

"But why would the successor of the Magic Tower...!"

Theo quickly covered Wellington’s mouth with his hand before he could finish his startled exclamation.

"Shh."

Thanks to this abrupt motion, the ice cream Wellington was holding became a mess, but he seemed not to notice.

Gulp. Wellington swallowed nervously before speaking again.

"Are you saying he’s here? You’re not mistaken, are you?"

"I’m certain."

"…He should know better than to attract suspicion for siding with Troyban, which has already drawn the ire of Ragnar. Why would he risk coming here...?"

Wellington trailed off, his expression hardening.

"He’s clearly up to something."

It appeared that Wellington believed the Magic Tower was infiltrating Ragnar’s domain to stir up internal discord.

Theo, seeing no need to argue, simply nodded in agreement.

"I believe we should capture him, as they are surely not here with good intentions."

"But a figure of his stature wouldn’t move without a formidable escort. Wouldn’t it be better to wait for our master to return after finishing his business…?"

"No. If they completely slip out of the city during that time, it will become impossible to track them."

Only then did Wellington catch on to Theo’s point.

"Surely you’re not suggesting we pursue him ourselves?"

"Will that be okay?"

Ray voiced her concern as well.

After all, the current leader and commanding authority of their group was Upsurging Dragon. Taking independent action without his permission could escalate into a political crisis.

However,

"Practical Swordsmen are authorized to make independent judgments and decisions based on circumstances, and Advanced Swordsmen can even undertake solo missions. Besides, I’m slated to be recommended for Advanced Swordsman upon returning this time."

"…You’re not an Advanced Swordsman yet, are you?"

"Do you think I can’t handle it?"

"That’s overstepping."

"If you’re uncomfortable, Ray and I will go alone."

Ray nodded, finishing off the rest of her ice cream, then stood up with her sword in hand.

Theo, though slightly regretful, accepted it as inevitable.

Wellington, true to his nickname as the “Stickler,” clearly prioritized rules and principles.

“It’s a burden, no doubt. But…”

Wellington alternated his gaze between Theo and Ray, then smirked before rising to his feet as well.

“I’ve been curious about the Magic Prodigy’s skills. I wouldn’t mind crossing swords with him.”

His eyes gleamed sharply.

A deep competitive spirit radiated from them—the same look he had when he first met Theo.

Even if he was a “Stickler,” Wellingto was a martial artist who lived and breathed by the sword .

“Well then, the decision is made.”

“But do you know exactly where they are now?”

Theo smiled silently for a moment, then lightly kicked off the ground.

Pa-at!

Ray and Wellington’s gazes followed him as one.

Effortlessly passing above the bustling crowd, Theo landed in front of a beggar crouched beneath a streetlamp.

“Where is the Magic Tower group currently?”

“Oh, sir! Please spare a coin!”

“There’s no need to hide anything from me.”

“Spare me a coin, and I’ll pray for your blessings for the rest of my life…”

“If not, I can pass this along to the Director of the Information Bureau.”

As Theo turned to leave, the beggar suddenly grabbed his ankle.

“How did you know?”

Beneath the deeply pressed brim of his shabby hat, the beggar’s eyes glinted sharply.

He was an agent of Black Snow.

Theo gave a faint smile.

“That’s classified.”

“Hmm. Just as Lady Kleve said, you really are a man whose intentions are impossible to read, despite that handsome face.”

A familiar name.

Theo’s eyes brightened.

“You know Lady Kleve?”

“Of course. I serve directly under her. And currently, she’s tailing Najariu Monte.”

“...!”

Theo’s eyes widened slightly.

*         *         *

Clatter-clatter-clatter—

Inside a carriage heading toward the outskirts of the city.

“…Aren’t you taking this too lightly? What if Ragnar catches wind of this?”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. They didn’t figure it out until now, so why would they suddenly realize it now? Honestly, Jirima, you worry too much.”

Jirima hesitated for a moment, deliberating whether to slap the nonchalant grin off the other’s face.

If he weren’t the only grandson of the lord Jirima respected, he would’ve ordered a punishment long ago.

‘Or… is he aiming for something else entirely?’

Najariu, knowing exactly how many cunning schemes lay hidden beneath that brazen face, chose to remain silent.

He was simply frustrated by Najariu’s unwillingness to reveal his true intentions.

However, Najariu paid no attention to Jirima’s gaze. Instead, he affectionately stroked the object in his hand.

“Oh, my cute little puppy. You must be starving, huh?”

The object in Najariu’s hand was a black orb the size of a human head. At first glance, it appeared unremarkable, but when Najariu took out pages from a magical tome he had secretly stolen from the royal vault, everything changed.

Ziiik!

With a sound like a zipper sliding, a long slit appeared in the center of the black orb and spread open vertically. Between its curved lip-like edges, jagged, saw-like teeth emerged, giving it a grotesque and menacing appearance.

‘I’ll never get used to this.’

Jirima grimaced slightly as he watched.

The magical lifeform Paracelsus.

It was the pinnacle creation of the Homunculus Project, a top-secret endeavor conducted in collaboration between the Magic Tower and the Alchemy Guild. Paracelsus was a growth-type homunculus that evolved by consuming the codes inscribed within magical tomes.

The Magic Tower held high expectations for Paracelsus, believing it to be the key to fulfilling a long-held aspiration they had pursued for ages. Their raid on the royal vault had been solely for this purpose—to implant specific codes from the magical tome Belphegor into Paracelsus.

-Beep. Beep. Food confirmed. Classified as an A-Rank magical tome.

Though it lacked a nose, Paracelsus pretended to sniff the pages before opening its jaws wide and chomping down with relish.

Crunch!

-Code recognized. Analysis and decryption complete. Storing data on the drive and attempting a new code configuration. Backup data uploading to cloud storage.

With each exaggerated chew, incomprehensible messages continuously spilled out, making its form all the more bizarre.

Jirima furrowed his brow even more deeply, but Najariu’s eyes were filled only with affection.

“Hahaha! Isn’t it just adorable? Come on now, eat up and grow big and strong.”

“You truly find this… adorable?”

“Of course! Don’t you? You know exactly what form this thing will take once it’s ‘complete,’ don’t you, Jirima?”

“It’ll become a monster.”

“Hey now, there’s no need to put it that way. If that ‘monster’ is mine, it’s a different story altogether.”

Najariu smiled contentedly as he continued.

“You see, I’m looking forward to the day this little one becomes fully complete. Because when that happens, I’ll become ‘complete’ as well, don’t you think?”

Jirima pressed his lips tightly together.

Before long, there was a glint of madness in Najariu’s eyes.

“It’s the door to the utopia every magician dreams of! The way to escape this prison of flesh and this suffocating world and ascend to the exalted pantheon of the gods! Do you understand? Becoming a god in a human body—a god! Something no one has achieved since the ancients!”

Najariu lovingly stroked Paracelsus’s head, now busy devouring the last page.

“So how could I not find it adorable? Honestly, I’d love to tear apart every other magical tome and feed it to this little one.”

“Extracting codes like this risks provoking the royal family.”

“I know. That’s why we’re being so careful.”

No matter how chaotic or disreputable the royal family had become, royalty was royalty. If they sharpened their blades, even the Magic Tower wouldn’t be safe.

“Not that I like having to tread so lightly.”

“……”

Jirima didn’t bother paying attention to Najariu’s complaints. They were pointless and of no practical value.

Besides, this wasn’t the time to worry about such things.

“Jirima.”

“Yes. I feel it too.”

Najariu paused in his petting of Paracelsus and sharply raised his head.

Jirima silently surveyed their surroundings. Though the street appeared empty save for them, the heavy stillness only amplified the sense of danger.

“Didn’t I warn you? I told you we’d left too long a trail.”

As soon as Jirima finished speaking, two servants hastily pulled their hoods over their heads.

The robes they wore, provided exclusively by David’s Star, were artifacts in themselves. They facilitated mana circulation and amplified efficiency, functioning as a kind of magical weapon.

Sensing the presences now encircling the carriage, they began to prepare spells.

“Why so tense? Our little ones will handle everything just fine, won’t they?” Najariu said nonchalantly.

The two servants nodded, though one caught sight of a small stone falling toward them. The servant on the right quickly made a gun-like gesture with his hand and fired an Air-gun, shooting it down.

Inwardly, he scoffed.

It seemed those Ragnar fools had caught their scent and come chasing after them, but the crude way they attempted an ambush was laughably typical of their brute-forced methods, befitting muscle-brained simpletons.

‘I’ll show them that even battle can be an art.’

Unlike those sweaty, brute swordsmen, magicians pursued elegant artistry and noble truths.

He wanted to teach these muscleheads a clear lesson: their positions in life were fundamentally different.

Tang!

An air bullet fired from his fingertip. With targeting magic applied, hitting the mark should have been a given.

But just before the air bullet made contact—

Jirima, who had been scanning the stone’s composition with detection magic, suddenly froze in alarm.

“Wait…!”

The servants had no time to question why their superior was suddenly panicked.

Boom!

The moment the stone shattered, a thunder core concealed within exploded.

KABOOM!

A cascade of lightning rained down in every direction.

Theo’s scaled-down version of the Dragon Pearl Formation—inspired by his observation of the solar eclipse—was already a devastating weapon in its own right.

The real problem arose after the lightning bolts had struck.

From the ground emerged four lightning dragons, which began biting and tearing at one another, amplifying the explosive force in the process.

Hydra Bolt.

As expected of a spell created by Theo, combining the breath and magic of thunder dragons, its destructive power was immense.

Krrkrrkrrrumble—

Whinny!

The resulting devastation turned the horses into charred remains in an instant, and the carriage flipped over, completely obliterated.

“Magic…!”

“Damn it! Cancel it!”

To make matters worse, the servants’ faces turned pale as they realized that, following the Hydra Bolt, a mana EMP had spread.

For magicians, losing control over their mana was as good as being defenseless.

Thwip-thwick!

In that moment of panic, shadow-like projectiles struck both servants in the napes, instantly silencing them.

Ssshhh—

The frost left behind by the storm slowed Jirima’s movements as he tried to form hand seals to overcome the EMP aftereffects.

At the same time—

Shick!

“Don’t move. One wrong move, and I’ll take your head.”

A sharp blade rested beneath Jirima’s chin.

‘When did they…?’

Jirima broke into a cold sweat.

The sequence of events—the lightning storm, the mana-disrupting EMP, the frost, and the blade—was an undeniably calculated approach by someone who knew exactly how to hunt magicians.

Being subdued so easily, before he could even demonstrate the power of a Seven-Star Magician, was proof enough.

The real problem, however, was that the sole successor of the Magic Tower had already been neutralized.

By someone who had already tested their skills against him before, no less.

“Najariu Monte.”

Najariu glanced down at the twin blades, pressed tightly against either side of his neck and crossing just in front of his throat like stocks in a pillory.

Telekinesis.

It was a skill difficult even for magicians to use, and yet it was being wielded by a young man standing far off in the distance.

“Sorry, but you’ll need to come with us for a bit.”

Black hair and crimson eyes.

It was Theo.