The Regressor Wants to Become a Hero

He hadn’t sensed the presence. Finding it had been little more than a coincidence.

When did they get here? Why are they just standing there, watching?

The figure wore a mask, making it impossible to read their expression.

Tense, Ian called out to Eor.

“Adjudicator.”

“I know. We have an uninvited guest. You could’ve just pretended not to notice. Then I might’ve had time to ask a few more questions.”

Eor responded nonchalantly, in stark contrast to the shocked expression on the restrained white owl.

“C-Captain.”

The white owl’s face reflected utter betrayal. It seemed as though he wanted to ask why the captain, having arrived, wasn’t doing anything to save him.

But there was no time to ask.

Before he could utter another word, a flaming dagger slashed through the air, piercing his forehead and lodging itself in his skull.

His consciousness flickered out like a dying light. The white owl’s body was engulfed in flames and began to burn.

Eor casually flung the corpse aside as though discarding trash, stepping forward. Watching this, the figure leaning against the tree spoke in an indifferent tone.

“Quite ruthless, for someone who claims to be a priest.”

“Seen from a different perspective, it’s remarkably efficient, don’t you think?”

“Hmm?”

“Look. Not a drop of blood spilled, and the body’s mass is significantly reduced. The stench is unpleasant, I admit, but that’s a minor inconvenience.”

“Not incorrect. When I deal with your kind, I’ll make sure to take notes. I’ll leave no trace behind.”

The captain unfolded his arms as he spoke.

“If you can, feel free. By the way, since you’re being referred to as the captain, you must be the leader of the White Owl Mercenaries, correct?”

“For now.”

“And your name?”

“Karta. Yours?”

“Eor.”

The leader of the White Owl Mercenaries, Karta, slowly drew the sword from his hip in an ostentatious display of leisure.

The movement was excessively relaxed. Soon, his eyes turned black, but that was the extent of the transformation. His demeanor and posture remained unchanged.

“Well then. Since we’ve introduced ourselves, shall we begin?”

Even his tone was unchanged, signifying that the spirit of the Tougui had already assimilated into the mercenary’s mind. He’d been consumed. There was no other way to interpret it.

Eor observed the transformation with a detached air.

“Before we start, there’s one more thing I’d like to ask.”

“I thought you’d already interrogated my subordinate thoroughly.”

“Oh, it’s nothing too significant. I just want to know why you waited. You don’t have to answer.”

“I simply didn’t want to waste time on trivial matters. You’re going to die here anyway, so it’s not a problem. Any other questions?”

“Even if I had more, I doubt you’d answer them.”

“You’re perceptive. Now that your curiosity is satisfied, I’d appreciate it if you focused solely on the duel.”

“Shall I?”

Karta lowered his stance and leaped forward.

He disappeared from sight for a brief moment, reappearing right next to Eor, his sword swinging with deadly precision.

It was a sharp, decisive strike, aimed at slicing Eor’s torso in half in one clean motion.

Hwaaaah!

Before Karta’s blade could even touch the priestly robes Eor wore, flames surged forward to intercept it.

KWAHAAAAA!

The eerie power enveloping Karta’s blade lashed out, slicing through the flames and soaring upward in a violent arc. The strike’s sheer force was ominous, but Eor’s ability to block it without a second thought was equally remarkable.

This wasn’t the time to stand idly by and watch. Ian quickly increased the distance between himself and the duel.

Fortunately, Karta didn’t even glance in his direction, likely perceiving him as no more than an insignificant insect to be swatted at leisure. This oversight allowed Ian to retreat safely.

While stray slashes might be unavoidable, he had to steer clear of direct attacks at all costs. Perhaps he could react to one or two strikes, but enduring concentrated attacks was beyond his confidence.

“Either way, this is an opportunity.”

It was a situation Ian had secretly hoped for—a chance to closely observe Eor’s techniques.

Even now, the source of the flames shielding Eor was none other than the corpse of the White Owl mercenary.

The flaming dagger Eor had driven into the body earlier wasn’t merely to claim the mercenary’s life. It was a calculated move to extend his fiery magic naturally.

“And furthermore…”

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The flames defended against Karta’s relentless strikes.

“Is that… a barrier?”

It resembled defensive magic often employed by mages but with key differences. Instead of forming a protective sphere around the user, this barrier was a small surface that precisely blocked incoming strikes.

It was madness. A single misstep or failure to detect an attack could result in catastrophic injury.

Yet, the gamble came with its rewards. By narrowing the defensive area, Eor had drastically increased the barrier’s durability while reducing mana consumption.

And it wasn’t purely defensive.

CLANG!

BOOM!

Each time Karta’s blade clashed against Eor’s barrier, the impact was absorbed, then redirected outward as an explosion of flames.

With every exchange, the scale of the fire grew, engulfing more space.

In a populated area or amidst allies, such a tactic would be unthinkable. But here, alone against Karta, the Judicator had no such constraints. He could freely unleash his explosions and amplify the flames.

For most opponents, even attempting to strike Eor would mean being engulfed in fire and reduced to ashes. Those with exceptional resilience might survive as mere charcoal.

FWOOOSH!

And that wasn’t all.

Eor controlled the surrounding flames with precision, wielding them like extensions of his body.

At his command, the fire moved like wings, shoving Karta back. As the flames spread open, they rippled and surged. From their depths, a sword of fire emerged.

The meticulously crafted magical weapon not only possessed formidable physical force but radiated searing heat as the flames were concentrated into its form.

WHIRRR…

The fiery sword tip swiveled, targeting the swiftly moving Karta. Without hesitation, it shot forward.

Red trails slashed through the air, numbering in the dozens before long. Dodging such an onslaught seemed impossible, yet Karta managed to do so.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

His footwork was swift and precise.

The fiery swords embedded themselves into the ground, briefly pausing before detonating in bursts of flame.

One explosion set off a chain reaction, as subsequent swords ignited in sequence.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

At that distance, Karta moved with a speed akin to blinking, evading, deflecting, or outright destroying every flaming sword aimed at him.

His blade pierced the core of each fiery weapon, scattering their essence. Those disrupted flame swords dissolved into nothingness in the air, not even detonating.

Swishhhhhh!

Amid the chaos, his blade extended like a serpent, lunging at Eor with intent to tear into him.

His movements lacked the recklessness typical of a Battle Wraith. There was no arrogant laughter—only sharp, precise attacks.

So sharp, in fact, that his strikes chipped away at or penetrated Eor’s fiery barrier.

Even Eor, who had remained composed until now, faltered slightly, forced to respond with full seriousness.

“Amazing.”

From a distance, Ian trembled with exhilaration as he observed the battle.

It was exactly as he had hoped. Eor’s mastery over flames ignited his inspiration.

His heart raced wildly—not merely because of the spectacle, but because of the opportunity to learn.

“There’s so much to gain.”

He focused all his magical energy into his eyes, ensuring not a single movement escaped his gaze.

The flames Eor wielded were a divine magic—a power granted by the Lord of Infernal Flames.

While fundamentally different in structure from the Bane of Evil, their source was the same.

If Ian could deconstruct these techniques, as he had with Dior’s Hellfire Prison, he could eventually replicate them. But…

“It won’t be easy.”

Every attempt to analyze the structure was thwarted as the flames dissipated before revealing their full nature.

Even with extended study, it wouldn’t be enough. Learning from brief glimpses was practically impossible.

Only someone with an extraordinary genius might succeed—but Ian wasn’t such a prodigy.

What little understanding he could glean came from his familiarity with similar attributes.

For instance, Eor’s flame-forged weapons bore a principle resembling that of the Sacred Flame Armor imbued by the Bane of Evil. The difference lay only in their forms: weapon versus armor.

“I get it now.”

It wasn’t perfect, but he had a partial grasp.

He could likely emulate the form, giving it a metallic durability and cutting edge.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

Though he longed to test it immediately, there was still much to witness.

Eor wasn’t the only one worth observing. Despite being a Battle Wraith, Karta was also an exceptional swordsman.

By enveloping his entire body with magical energy, he protected himself from the scorching heat while pressuring Eor with relentless and ferocious swordsmanship.

Though referred to as a priest, the Flame-Wielding Inquisitor was closer to a mage in combat style.

Karta was demonstrating, in real-time, how a warrior could battle such a mage.

It was worth taking note of. Yet, the outcome of the fight was already clear.

Without defeating Eor swiftly, Karta’s loss was inevitable. The longer the fight dragged on, the environment increasingly favored Eor.

Fwoooosh!

Karta’s blade slashed through the flames, cutting them apart. Yet it was futile. The fire wasn’t a fragile candle to be snuffed out by gusts of wind.

The area was already engulfed in flames. Even with nothing left to burn, the inferno neither weakened nor relented, maintaining its oppressive heat.

At last, Karta stopped moving.

“…This is difficult.”

“Surrender,” Eor said. “If you cooperate with the interrogation willingly, this can end now.”

With a snap of his fingers, chains of flame materialized, clinking with a metallic sound as they revealed their form.

It was impressive how effortlessly Eor forged weapons and restraints.

Karta exhaled heavily, brushing back his sweat-drenched hair.

“Surrender? I’d rather die than betray my kin.”

“Is that so?”

“Isn’t that a bit too arrogant? The outcome isn’t decided yet. Let me offer a piece of advice: you could be caught off guard like this.”

At Karta’s words, Eor burst into laughter.

“The more I see, the less you resemble a Battle Wraith. I’m suddenly curious—did you pick up your mercenary commander’s tendencies, or was that always your nature?”

“I’ve always been like this.”

“…I see. You’re right. Arrogance is indeed a form of carelessness, and carelessness is a shortcut to defeat.”

With a look of enjoyment, Eor continued speaking.

“But is there any way to turn the tide of this battle?”

Eor spread his arms wide. No longer was he encased in a barrier; now, he cloaked himself in fire, even wearing a helmet.

The sight was strange, as though flames were flowing from his body. He no longer appeared human.

“If you have something to turn this around, you’d best use it quickly. I have no intention of giving you any more leeway. Try surviving this time.”

As Eor spread his hand towards the ground, a heavy magical pressure bore down on the area.

Ian too couldn’t escape its influence.

It felt as though someone were pressing firmly on his shoulders and head. The flames that were burning around them gathered toward Eor.

[Holy Magic, 6th Tier: Sea of Infernal Flames]

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