Regressing as the Reincarnated Bastard of the Sword Clan

Chapter 188

Torkel had never once considered himself a genius.

After all, there were too many exceptional siblings ahead of him to even entertain such a thought.

Instead, he took pride in it.

—"I love having so many brothers and sisters! It’s so loud and fun!"

—"It seems my son is quite fond of his siblings."

—"Yep!"

He never understood why his mother looked at him so sadly as he smiled brightly.

Determined to prove his affection, Torkel resolved to meet his siblings.

Though he’d never properly spoken to or even greeted most of them, they shared the same surname. Surely they would welcome him warmly.

The stories he had read in fairy tales always described families as loving and kind.

So he thought, I’ll meet them, learn how wonderful they are, and tell Mother all about it. That’ll make her smile.

But reality was cruel.

—"Hahaha! Why am I so strong? Hmm, maybe because I’m just amazing?"

His elder sister, Lezé, had a free-spirited personality and always reveled in her own strength.

—"Ancio, did you see this? Doesn’t he look ridiculously dumb? Do we really have to call this guy our brother? How many more siblings is Father planning to produce, anyway?"

—"Brother, mind your words. Torkel, was it? Let’s try to get along from now on."

The twin geniuses, Gishar and Ancio, were quick to laugh at him.

Gishar made no effort to hide his disdain, while Ancio smiled warmly but maintained an unspoken distance.

And then there was the eldest brother.

—"You’re my younger brother? So what?"

Kincarnon didn’t even feign interest.

—"I heard someone wanted to meet me, so I came on a whim. What a pointless question."

The emotion Torkel felt at that moment was despair.

To him, Kincarnon wasn’t just another sibling. He was the eldest, the one closest to their father in both reputation and ability—a figure Torkel had long admired, even if they’d never met.

Yet every word Kincarnon spoke felt like a dagger to Torkel’s chest.

—"Do you even realize how many like you I’ve had to deal with? I can’t even remember half of them. There are far more important people demanding my attention."

A name not even worth remembering.

To Kincarnon, Torkel was just that—an unremarkable presence, utterly forgettable.

—"If you want me to notice you, struggle harder. Maybe then I’ll remember your name."

It was then that Torkel realized how wrong he had been.

Other siblings avoided him altogether, deeming him unworthy of their time.

The ones who did meet him often glared at him as though they wanted him dead. Some even attempted to assassinate him.

Crying, he turned to the head of the family—his father, Kyle—for solace.

But the response he received was a single word:

—"So?"

Kyle didn’t spare him another glance.

It was at that moment that Torkel understood.

This isn’t a family. It’s a den of beasts.

No, even beasts had enough sense to care for their own. This place was worse than that—a pit where only the strong survived.

That was when Torkel began his relentless training.

With a sword in his right hand and a spear in his left, he pushed himself to the brink.

Torkel knew himself. He lacked the innate talent of his siblings. To make up for it, he had to work harder—much harder.

While others trained for an hour, he trained for five.

If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to keep up, let alone surpass them.

Perhaps it was this grueling effort that eventually paid off.

After many years, Torkel achieved his dream of becoming the Commander of the Black Iron Brigade.

Observers called him a rising genius, one who threatened the established heirs of Ragnar.

Some celebrated his ascent, declaring that the "five great successors" were finally complete.

At last, he met Kincarnon again.

This time, surely his eldest brother would remember him. Surely he’d feel threatened by Torkel’s accomplishments.

After all, even Lezé and Gishar, who once dismissed him, now regarded him with wary respect.

But Kincarnon’s reaction shattered those hopes.

—"You look familiar. Who were you again?"

Torkel bit his lower lip hard enough to draw blood.

As expected.

There wasn’t a single thing about this cursed family that he liked.

***

—"Ah, I see. So you are my grandson."

When was it exactly?

The day Torkel harbored deep resentment against Ragnar but could do nothing about it, focusing only on ascending to power.

That day, Torkel was out on a mission—a task to subdue the remnants of the Blood Cult.

His target was a perpetrator who had massacred a small town within Ragnar’s domain.

It was during this mission that he met him.

An old man.

Short in stature, with an unassuming appearance, yet exuding an air of impenetrable authority.

The man stood before Torkel and addressed him as “grandson.”

Torkel was dumbfounded.

His maternal grandfather had passed away after a long illness, and Torkel had personally overseen the burial.

As for his paternal grandfather, he had died in Kyle’s rebellion long before Torkel was even born.

But then, the old man said something that sent shivers down his spine:

—"Resurrection is real. It is the act of descending upon this world by accepting the flesh and soul of a god. I was able to awaken again by accepting the essence of the Nameless Sovereign."

The old man introduced himself as none other than the Dragon Emperor.

To Torkel’s shock, the visions the man shared were secrets only the direct bloodline of Ragnar could know.

A chaotic mix of madness, dark energy, and dragon power—forces that should have been incompatible—radiated from him.

Instinctively, Torkel gripped his sword, ready to fight to the death.

But the Dragon Emperor, far from reacting with hostility, gently lowered Torkel’s blade with his hand.

—"You’re showing hostility toward me… I understand. After all, that is what Kyle and Robert taught you, isn’t it?"

The Dragon Emperor smiled warmly.

—"It’s fine if you see me as your enemy. But before you make up your mind, won’t you at least listen to my story?"

It was then that Torkel learned the hidden truth of the Day of Expulsion, a story unknown to the world.

He learned of Kyle’s cowardice, the Black Dragon’s cunning, Julius’s hypocrisy, and the Plum Blossom Sovereign’s ruthlessness.

Torkel wept for a long time.

His grandfather’s story was unbearably tragic.

Betrayed by his children, vilified by his family, falsely accused of heinous crimes, and forced to wander a desolate path for the rest of his life.

—"At least I was able to find refuge here. Would you like to meet them? My new ‘family’?"

Following the Dragon Emperor, Torkel finally discovered what a real family could be.

And he realized something profound.

The family you are born into is beyond your control. No matter how much harm they cause, there’s no way to escape them.

But the family you choose… that’s where true acceptance and care can be found.

That day, for the first time in his life, Torkel laughed freely, without restraint.

***

Torkel returned to Ragnar with a singular purpose:

To restore his grandfather to the throne where he rightfully belonged.

He had believed that day—the day of reckoning—had finally arrived.

But now…

“TEOOOOO!”

Torkel roared in fury as the Orb of Disgrace vanished in an instant.

All that remained in his clenched fist were the shattered fragments of the orb.

The madness and dark energy it once held had already transformed into lightning, annihilating both Troivan’s White Armor Vanguard and Black Iron Brigade without discrimination.

“Brother!”

“It’s too dangerous now. We must retreat for the moment.”

Two figures stopped Torkel from charging at Theo: Arnold and Harke, the commanders of Troivan’s White and Black Vanguard, respectively.

Torkel clenched his jaw, his frustration boiling over. He wanted to scream at them to let him go, but their solemn gazes forced him to hold his tongue.

“Not all of the orb’s energy was lost, was it? We can salvage what we’ve recovered. Our master will understand.”

“But…!”

“Can’t you see? The assault isn’t over yet!”

At that moment, Theo’s outstretched hand clenched into a tight fist.

<Inferno Hell>.

As the second phase of the Orb of the Rising Sun unfolded, the lightning strikes embedded in the ground erupted into towering flames.

Dozens of firestorms sprang up, turning the battlefield into a sea of fire.

Even those who had narrowly escaped the earlier attacks found themselves engulfed by the flames.

The chaos intensified as Theo’s dragon legion moved freely through the inferno, unscathed, wreaking further havoc on the collapsing troops.

More than half of Troivan’s forces had already fallen, and the rest were on the verge of annihilation.

Such was the sheer destructive power of the energy contained within the Orb of Disgrace.

“Brother!”

Torkel finally turned away, forced to prioritize survival.

For now, he needed to live, as his comrades had urged.

But…

BOOM!

“Damn it!”

Before Torkel could take a proper step, a wall of fire erupted before him, soaring dozens of meters high and radiating unbearable heat.

Even cloaked in aura, charging through it would likely end in death.

Theo had cut off every escape route.

FWOOOSH!

Then, Theo appeared, flames from the inferno swirling around him as he sprinted toward Torkel.

“He’s coming!!”

“Brother! We’ll hold him off—find a way through!”

Arnold and Harke didn’t wait for Torkel’s reply. They leaped forward to intercept Theo, determined to buy their commander time.

Such selfless sacrifice was unthinkable among the siblings of Ragnar.

‘Why… Why would they do this for me?’

Torkel slashed at the wall of fire with trembling hands, tears streaming down his face.

All he could think about was not letting their sacrifices go to waste.

But no matter how many times he cleaved the fire, new flames rose to replace them. Even when he struck with overwhelming force, the inferno quickly recovered.

Theo was channeling the full power of his inferno directly toward Torkel.

BANG! CRASH!

SWISH! SWISH!

The Dragonslayer Sword moved swiftly.

Arnold, the first to face Theo, had his armor shattered, a gaping hole torn through his chest.

The Moonlight Sword followed.

Harke, attempting to exploit Theo’s blind spot after Arnold’s sacrifice, froze mid-step.

The Soul Blade gleamed as it severed Harke’s head in a single stroke.

WHIRRR!

The orb within Theo’s blade pulsed with an intensity he had never felt before, responding to the madness emanating from the Orb of Disgrace.

It had fully activated, guiding Theo’s every movement with unparalleled clarity.

This heightened awareness allowed him to strike with absolute precision, eliminating every obstacle in his path.

At this moment, Theo had reached the pinnacle of his physical and mental limits.

SWOOSH!

A new path revealed itself to him—one that led directly to Torkel.

“Commander!”

“It’s too dangerous, Commander!”

Troops from the Black Iron Brigade and the White Armor Vanguard rallied, desperate to protect Torkel.

But they fell one after another, either to the Drake Fang’s blade or to the relentless pursuit of Theo’s White Armor Vanguard.

In the end, Theo reached Torkel.

Blocked by the unyielding wall of fire, Torkel had no choice but to stand his ground.

Turning his black spear behind him, he aimed it at Theo’s head and thrust with all his might.

CLANG!

The spear scraped against Theo’s greatsword, barely missing his head as he tilted it slightly to the side.

“I’ve got you.”

Before Torkel could react, the Moonlight Sword, now in Theo’s left hand, curved in a half-moon arc.

SLASH!

A deep, bloody line appeared on Torkel’s face, stretching from the top of his head to his jaw.

“I… I really… hate… all of you…”

Torkel’s gaze wavered as he looked at Theo one last time.

SPURT!

Blood gushed from the wound, and his body crumpled to the ground.