Regressing as the Reincarnated Bastard of the Sword Clan

Chapter 176

Theo remembered the Tyrant Dragon's peculiar personality vividly.

On the surface, he seemed like a stubborn, arrogant man, unyielding in his ways.

But deep within, he harbored the cunning of countless serpents—a true monster cloaked in human skin.

The tragic downfall of the Gishar and Ancio siblings was born of this very nature.

Although the Tyrant Dragon had taken in the twin siblings as disciples, he had never disclosed this fact to either of them.

To one sibling, he framed the relationship as merely offering occasional guidance due to a past bond.

Thus, both siblings lived believing they were the Tyrant Dragon's sole and special disciple.

When the competition for the throne intensified, the two began to accuse each other of being frauds, their enmity exceeding even that of mortal foes.

But in truth, it was Gishar who had danced in the palm of Ancio's hand.

Ancio had a quiet demeanor, one that rarely drew attention.

Though counted among the five candidates for the throne, he never stood out prominently.

As a result, most of the achievements and the limelight naturally fell to Gishar, who monopolized the attention.

Yet, that was precisely Ancio’s ploy.

Being in the spotlight also meant becoming a target for hostility.

Ancio deftly leveraged this, shifting all the consequences of his actions onto Gishar.

By the time Gishar realized what was happening, he was surrounded entirely by enemies.

When Gishar reached out to Ancio for help, Ancio struck him down without hesitation.

Then, presenting himself as a savior, Ancio absorbed all of Gishar's enemies and the foundation his sibling had built.

In the end, Ancio succeeded in becoming the Tyrant Dragon's sole heir.

But in this life, things had unfolded quite differently.

Gishar's head had fallen earlier than before—nearly ten years earlier.

This left Ancio with significantly less time to consolidate his foundation.

Nevertheless, the foundation Gishar had already established was considerable.

The greatest concern, however, lay in the fact that the Tyrant Dragon was still actively moving behind the scenes.

How the Tyrant Dragon decides to act will drastically influence my approach.

“To think that the first major opponent in this escalating competition for the throne would be the Tyrant Dragon himself... The difficulty is absurd.”

Theo couldn’t help but reflect on how challenging this life had become.

Theo ignited flames with his magic, burning Gishar’s corpse to ash.

He had no intention of announcing Gishar’s death to the world.

Of course, Gishar's sudden disappearance would spark rumors among those aware of the situation.

But the presence or absence of evidence made a significant difference.

There’s no need to tarnish my reputation by inciting internal conflict before the coming war.

As the ashes scattered into nothingness, Theo withdrew his hand, only for Lodbrok to speak up.

“Companion.”

“Yes?”

“Do you intend to keep everything that occurred here in the White Tower a secret?”

“Yes, that’s correct. Is there an issue with that?”

Lodbrok seemed to have already read Theo’s thoughts.

She nodded.

“I simply believe that keeping it a secret might not be the best course of action.”

An unexpected suggestion.

Theo’s eyes widened.

“This is merely advice. Whether you heed it or not is your decision. However, from what I’ve observed, you tend to err on the side of caution.”

“Me... cautious?”

Theo blinked.

Wasn’t caution a trait more fitting for those who schemed and manipulated events from the shadows?

He prided himself on having achieved groundbreaking results, both during the Rite of Blooming and afterward.

Lodbrok’s words felt unfamiliar.

“True, you’ve built an impressive career that makes you a contender for the throne. But there’s always been a line you haven’t crossed.”

A line.

Something hovered on the edge of Theo’s understanding.

“You’ve shown your career, but you haven’t demonstrated why you deserve to sit on the throne.”

“Well, in Ragnar, the strongest take everything—”

“Yes, strength is paramount. Talent and ambition are critical as well. But those are merely the basics. In human society, there’s one more thing you need.”

Lodbrok’s gaze deepened.

“Legitimacy.”

“Legitimacy?”

“Yes. You need to show that you alone can change Ragnar for the better. That you can lead the North to its golden age. How will you prove that?”

Theo began to grasp Lodbrok’s meaning.

“You must establish that you have legitimacy greater than any of the direct heirs.”

Legitimacy.

The word weighed heavily on Theo’s chest.

Although Cecilia had recently moved to the Camellia Palace, Theo was, at his core, still a bastard born of the harem.

A child meant to disappear in obscurity.

“Ragnar has no shortage of purists who cling to notions of bloodline purity. Though to my eyes, apart from Sigurd, they’re all mongrels.”

Still, Lodbrok’s voice grew firm.

“As you rise closer to the throne, the resistance you face will only intensify.”

In that moment, clarity struck Theo like lightning.

“You’re saying I need to prove that I possess greater legitimacy than even the direct heirs.”

“Precisely. And you have much to show them.”

Lodbrok glanced around.

The Guardians mourned deeply.

Even being chosen by the Primeval Dragon would unsettle many.

Especially the Elder Council, who would be shaken to their core by Theo’s ascension.

“And let’s not forget, you have me, even if I’m only half a dragon.”

“...But legitimacy without power becomes a glaring target.”

Theo voiced his concern.

If the five candidates conspired to crush him, defending himself would be nearly impossible.

However—

“Aren’t we past the point of worrying about that?”

Theo’s gaze shifted to where Gishar had been.

Perhaps Lodbrok was right.

“You have a concrete goal now: to claim the White Dragon Cavalry within two years. To achieve that, you’ll need to move more boldly than ever.”

Lodbrok’s advice resonated with Theo.

If you’re going to claim the throne, strike before anyone else can act.

Theo closed his eyes, lost in thought, and opened them only after a long pause.

In Lodbrok’s gaze, he saw his own reflection.

“I’ve decided.”

“What will you do?”

“This place.”

Theo was smiling.

“I’ll use it as the stage for my declaration.”

“This is just cruel, isn’t it? Three dragons ganging up on little old me?”

Julius joked, but none of the swords pointed at him wavered in the slightest.

The Blade Dragon, Plum Blossom Lord.
The Ice Dragon, Niel.
And the Illusion Dragon, Magnus.

While Plum Blossom Lord and Niel only radiated an unyielding resolve to block Julius’s path, Magnus’s killing intent suggested he might actually cut him down without hesitation.

Whrooooooom—

The clashing auras of the four created a violent whirlwind that tore into the sky, sparking an extraordinary transformation.

“Wait, is the sky splitting open?”

“No, you idiot! It’s shattering!”

The White Dragon Cavalry, who had been playfully watching the heavens.
The Black Iron Guard, who had just managed to catch their breath.
The Red Sword Knights, still crushed under the weight of their overwhelming defeat.
Even the Blue Sword Guard, standing solemnly.

All turned their gazes skyward.

The sky was indeed breaking apart.

The serene moonlight that had illuminated the night was obliterated.

In its place, dark clouds born from the storm swirled, spreading across the heavens and snuffing out the starlight. Thunder and lightning rained down upon the earth, accompanied by fierce winds.

Crackle! Crackle!
Boom! Boom!
Rumble…

The tremors that followed made it nearly impossible for anyone to remain standing.

The warriors of Ragnar’s esteemed Four Great Divisions all felt as if they were utterly exposed, stripped bare.

Though they had prided themselves on their unmatched skill, this surreal scene made them feel unbearably small.

Yet, the one most shaken by the phenomenon was none other than…

Torkel.

He suddenly realized the depth of his arrogance.

“You’re a genius, Torkel. Someone who can surpass even me without a second thought.”

It had been during the Rite of Blooming.

His peer, Navan, had said those words.

“That’s why you’ll never understand why I set aside my sword. But one day, you will. And when will that be? Haha! Only when someone greater than you appears.”

In this moment, Torkel finally understood what Navan had meant.

Someone greater than him.

No, multiple geniuses.

There they were—four of them, no less.

“No, if I reach their age, then surely…”

But that was nothing more than an excuse.

Though Torkel tried to deny it, deep down, he knew the truth. Talent alone wasn’t enough.

Even if he reached their age and surpassed them in skill, perhaps even becoming one of the new Nine Dragons, that would still be the limit.

But to transcend beyond the Nine Dragons? That was something entirely different.

After all, his father had dismissed beings like them as trivial.

For the first time, dark clouds shadowed Torkel’s heart, which had always brimmed with confidence.

This couldn’t be happening!

Torkel wanted to scream.

He pushed against the raging winds, trying to rise.

“I can’t… I won’t crumble like this! I’ve come too far, fought too hard to reach this point. I still have so far to go before I can grasp the throne. I won’t break here…!”

Whether it was Julius, Plum Blossom Lord, Niel, or Magnus, he didn’t care.

Torkel unleashed what he had kept buried deep within him.

The thing coiled in his heart stirred.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

His heart pounded madly.

Mana surged through his veins, and a feral intensity radiated outward, thick with madness.

It was the kind of insanity that made those nearby lose their minds—or their sanity.

“What is this…?”

“Torkel?”

“Commander of the Black Iron Guard! What are you doing?”

Even the dragons clashing with him turned in surprise, their killing intent momentarily faltering as the madness erupted like a volcano.

There was something profoundly unsettling about it.

The madness charged forward, clawing to tear apart the aura of the Nine Dragons and stoke Torkel’s greed to claim the throne.

But—

Boom!

The previously subdued White Tower suddenly lit up once more.

The remaining floors shone brightly, and as the thirteenth floor illuminated, a deafening roar erupted.

Kaboom!

The White Tower, which so many had fought to protect, exploded.

“...!”
“...!”
“...!”

Even Torkel’s frenzy wavered at the sight.

But soon, the onlookers realized it wasn’t destruction—it was transformation.

Whirl, whirl!

The shattered pieces of the White Tower spun into the air, reshaping themselves into new forms.

Some took the form of drakes that landed on the ground, roaring their fury.

Others became griffins that soared into the skies, while yet others transformed into fairy dragons, spinning through the air and scattering shimmering pollen.

Although these were lesser dragonkin, the sight of such legendary creatures appearing en masse was enough to send chills down anyone’s spine.

Rumble!

At the same time, the earth quaked as three desert worms burst forth, encircling the Four Great Divisions.

From the cracked soil emerged the Magara, submerging the battlefield in a marshland that rendered movement nearly impossible for the swordsmen.

“What in the world is happening?”

Niel’s murmured question echoed the thoughts of every dragon present.

An army of dragons?

Nothing like this had ever been heard of before.

“Theo! That brat—he’s finally done it!”

Only Julius rejoiced openly.

Then—

Flap!

Through the swirling remnants of the White Tower, the wyvern Umbra emerged with a powerful flap of its wings.

Upon its back stood Theo, gazing down at the scene below with supreme arrogance.

He looked every bit a monarch.

“That will happen, of course, when someone greater than you appears.”

Navan’s words buzzed incessantly in Torkel’s mind.

Someone even greater.

There he was.