The Regressor Wants to Become a Hero

None were intact. Limbs were scattered, and the bodies were in utter disarray, as if they had been devoured just moments ago.

From a distance, he scanned the scene. Even with eyes capable of penetrating the flow of mana, no significant abnormalities could be found.

There was no presence to be felt. It seemed the perpetrator of this gruesome scene had long since departed.

Drawing closer, he pulled out a dagger and carefully examined the bodies. Despite the severe damage, the cuts were remarkably clean.

“They weren’t killed by monsters, but by humans,” Bellen said, glancing around as if the situation had grown bothersome. She seemed irritated, as though a worrisome suspicion had been confirmed.

Bellen turned to Ian and asked, “What do you think?”

“That seems to be the case.”

“That’s all you have to say?”

“I don’t have much else to add… Judging by the scattered weapons, they had enough time to draw their arms.”

Bellen looked at him, urging him to continue.

Ian, unsure of what answer she expected, slowly shared his thoughts.

“However, judging by the positions and conditions of the bodies, they were overwhelmed one-sidedly. None of the weapons show signs of clashing. I don’t know how skilled they were, but they were played with. Their skills weren’t particularly impressive.”

“Could you have done it?”

Ian hesitated briefly before nodding.

“It’s not impossible, but why bother?”

“Exactly.”

Muttering in a languid voice, she waved her hand. The blood splattered around faintly shimmered, but no discernible patterns could be found.

“Besides, this wasn’t some kind of ritual. It was just slaughter.”

Ian, casually agreeing, inspected the bodies for any intact possessions.

Sticky blood stained his hands, but he rummaged through without hesitation.

What he found was unremarkable—random belongings, a few coins, and an unidentifiable drug.

There was nothing to verify their identities. Even the nearby weapons, designed more for practicality like military gear, bore no distinctive features.

“Wait, let me see that vial,” she said.

“Do you know where it’s from?”

Bellen, holding the vial she had just received, let out a faint laugh.

“Hold on. I haven’t even opened it yet.”

Ian straightened and watched her silently.

She poured the contents of the vial onto her palm, staring at the pills before picking one up and pressing it between her fingers.

With a crack, it turned to powder and fell. She licked the residue off her fingertip.

Could she really tell anything from that? As Ian watched her with skeptical eyes, Bellen nodded and murmured, “Mathis.”

Ian didn’t ask what that meant. Like Cordelia, Mathis was one of the empire’s well-known pharmaceutical families.

They possessed the technology to produce not only medicine but also elixirs, leveraging their immense wealth to wield considerable influence within the empire.

“Then, do you also know who they are?”

They weren’t mercenaries or adventurers. Judging by their standardized equipment and uniforms, they were more akin to private soldiers.

As Ian searched through more belongings, identical vials kept appearing. Bellen, catching Ian’s gaze, gave a subtle nod with a complicated expression.

“They’re Mathis’s cleaners. They handle dirty work.”

“Is it possible they’re just clients?”

“Do you really think that? Well, maybe. The information is pretty limited.”

Bellen held up the vial in her hand for emphasis.

“This drug is a doping agent specially crafted by Mathis for internal personnel only.”

“What does it do?”

“Why? Planning to try it if it’s safe? Don’t bother. Cordelia’s is much better, and this one has worse side effects. Remember, Mathis is a setting sun; Cordelia is a rising sun.”

“……”

“In any case, this is a restricted item prohibited from being distributed externally. The fact that they have it already ties them to Mathis. But there’s an even bigger issue.”

“And what’s that?”

“I’ve made enemies with Mathis.”

“…And you’re just telling me this now?”

“What difference does it make when I say it? You took this job to get your hands on the elixir I made, and you’d have ended up here either way. Would knowing earlier have changed your resolve?”

“Seems like you had a hunch, though.”

“Of course. But I didn’t expect them to be this blatant about it.”

It felt too early to draw conclusions. Judging by the traces here, it seemed more likely they were targeting someone else and got caught up in the process, rather than specifically coming for Bellen.

Her suspicion was understandable, but the situation itself was perplexing.

“To fully understand the circumstances, we’ll need to find whoever killed them. Can you do that?”

“Feels like you’re always testing me.”

“Do you think so? I’m sorry. It’s a habit of mine to speak this way. So, can you do it or not?”

“I can, but I don’t think there’s a need.”

“What?”

“They’re already here.”

The moment she wondered what he meant, Bellen sensed murderous intent aimed at her and turned her head.

At that instant, Ian flung the dagger in his hand skyward with all his might. Sparks scattered in mid-air as the sound of metal clashing rang out.

Clang!

Falling alongside the dagger was a long blade. Bellen’s eyes flickered in surprise.

Even without Ian’s intervention, her always-active defensive magic would have neutralized the ambush. But that wasn’t what shocked her.

He noticed before I did?

Despite dedicating her life to research, Bellen was a Level 6 mage. With extensive combat experience, she had ascended to the sixth rank, achieving the Spiritual Star and the title of Spiritual Authority.

Since entering the forest, she hadn’t let her guard down for even a moment.

Yet, Ian had detected the ambush before her. It was completely unexpected.

A low hum resonated as Bellen extended her hand toward the sky where the blade had come from.

Mana gathered at her palm, transforming into a beam of light that shot forth like a flash.

Branches and leaves dissolved and evaporated upon contact with the light. But cutting through the beam, a figure descended like a meteor.

Thud!

The man landed on the ground, clad in the same uniform as the corpses scattered around.

The difference was the black blade in his hand.

The ominous energy emanating from the pitch-black sword explained how he had managed to cut through Bellen’s spell moments ago.

Is it a Magic Weapon?

The whites of the man’s eyes had turned black, making it clear he wasn’t normal.

Grinning, he rose slowly, then flashed a sinister smile.

“Oops, miscalculated the distance. No, actually, this is better.”

The man adjusted his stance, raising his black blade as if he might charge at any moment. Ian quietly drew his sacred sword from his belt in preparation.

Unexpectedly, Bellen stepped forward, closing the distance instead of retreating—an odd move for a mage.

“Mathis’ Cleaner.”

“Hmm? Are you talking to me?”

“Yes. Aren’t you one of Mathis’ Cleaners?”

“Huh? Huh? That sounds familiar… Oh, right. That’s what they used to call me.”

Something was off. The man spoke as if he were recalling a long-forgotten memory. He seemed to realize it too, pausing before tilting his head.

“Yeah, I was Mathis’ Cleaner. But that doesn’t really matter anymore. I’m done with that role.”

“…So, did you kill these people?”

The man looked bewildered by Bellen’s calm, conversational tone.

It was no wonder. In situations like this, people typically demanded, Who are you? or What do you want? Instead, she spoke as though she already knew him. The man chuckled and shook his head in disbelief.

“Yeah, I killed them. Honestly, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking on the way here. How long am I supposed to follow orders? Some people get hailed as heroes and knights, while we endure hellish training and end up kidnapping and killing people. At first, I didn’t care, but now? I’m done. I’m going to live on my own terms.”

“For a Cleaner to say that… It’s grounds for summary execution, you know.”

The man burst out laughing.

“Haha! Wow, you sound just like a supervisor. Are you from Mathis? Weird. I only killed these guys a few hours ago. How’d you get here so fast? I even cleaned out everyone nearby—didn’t leave a single one alive. I’m sure of it.”

“……”

“Is there some kind of communication method I don’t know about? Oh, wait. I heard there’s a research lab in this area. Are you from there? Man, if I get caught, I’ll be shipped off as an experiment for sure. But tell me—did you really come here with just the two of you?”

“Yes. Are you planning to surrender peacefully?”

“Do I look stupid to you?”

With a sneer, the man launched himself forward.

He moved at incredible speed. Ian initially thought to observe how Bellen—a Level 6 mage—might handle the situation, but his role as her protector left no room for that.

He dashed forward, intercepting the black blade aimed at Bellen’s throat with his sacred sword.

Clang!

“Oh? You blocked it?”

The man’s black blade came slashing again.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

In an instant, the two exchanged three strikes.

The man’s aggressive, precision-focused style was more akin to that of an assassin than a mercenary or knight. He used feints and subtle misdirections to create openings while the cursed energy swirling around his blade disoriented Ian’s senses like flickering flames.

Without the experience Ian had gained before his regression, he would’ve been overwhelmed by such a skillful assault.

Clang!

“Come on, let’s see how long you can keep blocking!”

The man’s voice was laced with laughter as if he’d found an exciting new toy. His attacks targeted Ian’s left arm, thigh, head, ankle, and side with increasing speed, yet never lost power.

It was likely an ability granted by the black blade, the Magic Weapon. One mistake would mean a fatal wound, but Ian calmly parried every strike.

“Hahaha! This is fun! The others couldn’t even react, but you—!”

Clang!

“This!”

Clang!

“You can see through this!?”

Ian chuckled.

“Yes, I can see everything.”

In mere moments, they had exchanged dozens of blows. Ian had deliberately refrained from using the Bane of Evil—the signature technique of the Red Spear Knight.

It was simply a whim. He wanted to test how much his physical abilities had improved after reaching Level 5 through real combat. At the same time, he aimed to get a feel for how Mathis’ Cleaners fought.

That’s enough.

He had the measure of it now. There was nothing particularly extraordinary about the man’s techniques. They were pragmatic, efficient—but lacked anything akin to the devastating force of a secret skill like the Bane of Evil’s punishments.

Without such moves, the Cleaner’s style had its limits. And they had reached those limits already. Once Ian could predict where and how his opponent would strike next, the fight was as good as over.

No need to drag this out any longer.

Ian adjusted his grip on the sacred sword with both hands and swung it upward in a powerful arc.

“Guh!?”

The man, startled by Ian’s sudden shift from defense to offense, hurriedly blocked. But his stance was off. Ian’s strength sent him flying.

“Ugh!”

The man deftly caught himself with one hand on the ground and sprang back up, swinging his enchanted blade. The cursed energy entwined around the weapon surged outward like a sharp, razor-thin slash.

Siiiing!

The strike was like a freshly forged blade—precise and deadly. Ian didn’t hesitate, raising his sacred sword to shatter the incoming attack before pressing forward.

As if expecting this, the man kicked a discarded blade lying on the ground, sending it flying toward Ian.

“Die.”

Whoosh!

The blade streaked toward Ian’s head. For a brief moment, he couldn’t help but admire the move.

That’s right. In a desperate fight, swinging blindly isn’t the only answer.

Using the environment to buy even a fraction of a second was a smart move.

But.

That, too, depended on knowing your opponent.

Ian shifted his right foot diagonally, angling his body to the side. He raised his left hand and snatched the flying blade just as it passed his face.

It wasn’t luck. His instincts told him he could do it, and they were right. This was skill—pure and unshakable.

“You crazy bastard.”

The man, in the middle of pulling a vial from his pocket, muttered in disbelief at what he had just witnessed.

Ian smirked. The position he had assumed after catching the blade was perfect for a counterattack. With weight shifted onto his lead foot, he readied himself and said,

“Here, a gift for you.”

He hurled the blade with deadly precision.

———