Regressing as the Reincarnated Bastard of the Sword Clan

Chapter 190

"Kyle? How…?"

Granada’s expression betrayed his shock.

It made sense—Granada had assumed Kyle would be tethered to Ragnar’s main forces.

After all, with the looming threat of the Dragon Emperor’s potential appearance, Kyle couldn’t move recklessly.

That same reason was why Kyle had refrained from leading battles on the northern front lines.

He needed to remain prepared, ready to act at any moment.

Ironically, that very logic had allowed Granada to exclude Kyle from his calculations regarding Theo’s trap.

But Kyle simply smirked coldly.

“Do you think you’re the only one capable of planting spies?”

“...!”

“I’ve known for a long time that the Dragon Emperor wouldn’t make an appearance. My target was always you, Granada.”

“You mean… all this time, you stayed away from the battlefield just to lure me into complacency?”

Kyle’s smirk deepened.

“And here you are, caught like a rat. You’ve learned nothing, Granada, not then and certainly not now.”

Grit!

Granada clenched his teeth.

"Granada, you’re too impatient. Always rushing things. At this rate, you’ll never even come close to my shadow, fool."

The memory came unbidden to his mind.

Back then, Granada had been a green novice, attending a diplomatic exchange under the pretense of fostering relations between the North and East.

Kyle was already a prodigy, known across the empire. Granada, young and full of pride, had openly challenged him.

And Kyle had defeated him. Easily.

Not even one proper strike had landed.

Granada had returned to Ragnar multiple times afterward, attempting rematches with Kyle, only to lose each time.

He’d trained relentlessly, but he never came close to touching Kyle.

When he’d vented his frustration, Kyle had told him:

“You’re impatient. Strategy isn’t just about calculation—it’s about waiting for the right opportunity.”

At the time, Granada had dismissed it as arrogance, but now those words haunted him.

Kyle had anticipated that Granada wouldn’t resist taking the bait of Theo, the Chosen One.

And patiently, Kyle had set his pieces in place.

“Don’t make me laugh!” Granada roared.

SWOOSH! SWOOSH!

Shadows descended behind Granada—agents wearing wooden masks and cloaked in robes.

Among them were Naine and Arct, the Ninth and Eighth Obelisks, their ominous gazes glinting.

Both had once failed in their missions to handle Theo and bore deep grudges.

Granada sneered.

“Fine. I’ll admit I fell for your trap. But now you’ve overplayed your hand. By showing yourself here, you’ve doomed Ragnar. I’ll kill you and capture Theo. This will be your end.”

The masked agents sprang toward Kyle like streaks of light.

“So these are the so-called ‘experiments’ you created in collaboration with the Tower?” Kyle mused, his tone calm but cutting.

He gestured toward the cloaked figures.

“Failures, if I recall. Vessels designed to implant fragments of the Nameless Sovereign’s essence and create infinite mana. Instead, they became monsters hiding behind masks, didn’t they?”

The robes concealed grotesque, tentacle-like forms, their appendages writhing as they lashed out at Kyle.

Each tentacle dripped with venom so potent that a mere touch could dissolve flesh.

“Correct,” Granada replied. “They were made to surpass the Nine Dragons, to ‘evolve’ into something greater. I assume you also understand how dangerous they are.”

ZING!

Granada poured mana into his cursed sword, Hrunti, preparing to strike.

While the Obelisks restrained Kyle, Granada would decapitate him.

‘A shame I don’t have the Dragonslayer Sword to complete the trials,’ Granada thought, ‘but this should suffice.’

Hrunti, one of the most powerful relics from the Age of the Dragons, was a supreme artifact.

During the era when only the Chosen One could ascend as Ragnar’s patriarch, the sword had served as a scepter-like symbol of dominion.

Its true power was the activation of Dragonforce, which allowed Granada to control the mana of those with draconic bloodlines, enabling him to bind or unleash their power at will.

He’d already unlocked this ability using the Azure Key granted by the Dragon Emperor, even without fully mastering the sword’s trials.

That was enough to seal Kyle’s Dragonforce for a few critical seconds.

And in the realm of such superhuman combatants, a few seconds could decide life or death.

BOOM!

The clash began as the Obelisks converged on Kyle.

FLASH!

Granada leapt forward, aiming Hrunti directly at Kyle’s neck.

“I told you once,” Kyle’s mocking voice rang out, “you’re too impatient. It’s not arrogance on my part—it’s your own hubris.”

“What?!” Granada froze.

Before he could process the words—

SLASH!

Granada’s right arm flew into the air, still clutching Hrunti.

“Turning your back to an enemy. How reckless.”

Kyle’s derisive voice came from behind him.

Granada spun around, shocked, to find his assailant.

It was Naine.

Kyle had spoken the truth.

Granada had planted spies, but so had Kyle—and one of them was Naine, an Obelisk consumed with rage toward Theo.

Even Naine’s wooden mask couldn’t hide his irritated grimace.

“Damn it. I almost killed him. He actually dodged that?” Naine muttered before launching himself at Granada once more.

RUMBLE!

The air around them vibrated violently as a massive figure emerged.

Naine’s body dissolved into a halo of light, transforming into a hulking, three-meter-tall titan.

“The Fallen Dragon…!” Granada gasped.

The Fallen Dragon, a figure whose power rivaled even the strongest of the Nine Dragons.

Granada didn’t understand.

Naine was a being who had encountered the Dragon of Light in the depths of the Floating Archipelago. Now, that same figure stood before him.

THUD! THUD! THUD!

Each step the Fallen Dragon took shook the earth.

CRASH!

The titan’s fist descended like a battering ram, and Granada, now missing his right arm, barely managed to block with his left.

The impact sent tremors rippling through the ground, raising clouds of dust.

From above, beams of light pierced the dust clouds, revealing the arrival of reinforcements.

The Nine Dragons.

The Swordmaster of Black Dragons, Mae Hua.
The Black Dragon, Robert.
The Ice Dragon, Niel.
The Illusion Dragon, Commander of the Blue Sword Guard.
And the Ancient Dragon, Elder Council Leader.

Five of them had arrived.

“Commander of the Blue Sword Guard,” Robert barked. “Given your ties to Torkel, if you fail to prove yourself in this battle, I’ll see to it that you’re held accountable. Elder Council Leader, the same goes for you. Redeem yourselves here, or face judgment.”

Robert was the first to move, his eyes locked on Granada.

He wasn’t about to let his long-standing rival, the Fallen Dragon, claim all the glory.

“Damn it all,” muttered the Illusion Dragon.

Clenching his teeth, he thought of Torkel, a drinking companion from days past, now branded a traitor.

Meanwhile, the Ancient Dragon stepped forward, ready to crush the very forces that had once conspired to oust him.

BOOM!

The battlefield descended into chaos, Granada finding himself overwhelmed.

What once had been eyes brimming with confidence now gleamed with despair.

And fear.

***

["All Buff Mode has ended."]
["Penalties are being applied."]

Thud!

Theo collapsed to the ground, his body as heavy as a waterlogged sponge.

What started as a mission to assassinate Torkel had spiraled into an overwhelming chain of events: the betrayal, the arrival of the new White Armor Vanguard and Black Iron Brigade, and finally, Granada’s shocking appearance.

The series of high-stakes confrontations had left him reeling.

Yet, as he sat there, the tension in his body ebbed away.

He no longer felt any fear.

There was no chance that Kyle and the Nine Dragons would lose.

‘I never imagined he’d not only use me as bait but also assign someone like the Fallen Dragon as my guardian… or was it a spy?’

Theo recalled his earlier shock when Naine had revealed his identity.

Even those who had been on missions with Naine, like Selpard and Arin, had no idea about his true nature.

‘Just how many moves ahead was Kyle playing to draw Granada into this trap?’

?The more I see of that man, the less human he seems,? Lodbrok remarked coldly in Theo’s mind.

?How can someone claim to prioritize their family while treating their own son like a mere tool? Even Torkel was just a pawn to him.?

Theo agreed to a point—Torkel’s rebellion seemed preordained, like another piece in Kyle’s meticulous strategy.

?A god on the cusp of divinity… Perhaps that’s why he’s lost all his emotions.?

‘I don’t think that’s the whole truth.’

?Oh? Enlighten me.?

‘I think… he struggled with those decisions more than he let on.’

?You’ve known your father all these years, yet you still don’t understand him? He’s as cold as ever.?

‘Or maybe he’s not the man we thought he was,’ Theo thought, recalling the fleeting encounter he’d had with Kyle before leaving for this mission.

Kyle’s expression had been its usual stoic mask, yet for a moment, Theo had sensed something beneath it—a desire to say something, perhaps, that Kyle forced himself to bury.

?Fine, cling to your illusions. Just don’t come running to me when he betrays you. That man is fully capable of it.?

Lodbrok’s tone was sharp with disdain, and Theo could only let out a strained laugh as he scratched his cheek.

“Damn, I’m wiped,” Holcus muttered as he slumped to the ground beside Theo.

His arrival offered Theo a reprieve from his mental sparring with Lodbrok.

Theo gave a faint chuckle.

“Thanks.”

It was a simple word, but it carried a depth of gratitude—for disrupting Lodbrok’s nagging and for Holcus’s earlier actions to protect him.

“...I didn’t even do anything,” Holcus mumbled, his face flushing slightly as he turned his head away.

Holcus wasn’t being modest. He genuinely felt that his intervention had been insignificant. Without Kyle’s timely arrival, he wouldn’t have been able to save Theo.

But Theo shook his head firmly.

“You did plenty. You held your ground against Granada.”

“I couldn’t even land a proper strike on him…”

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is that you stepped up, and because of that, the patriarch had enough time to intervene. Granada failed, and that’s because of you.”

“...!”

“You made a huge difference, Holcus. And you saved my life.”

Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

Each word from Theo sent Holcus’s heart racing.

For so long, he had harbored a sense of inferiority, believing he wasn’t good enough to stand beside Theo.

But those few words from Theo—his acknowledgment—swept all that self-doubt away.

Holcus wanted to respond, but his throat felt tight, his voice catching before it could escape.

“Yo, my little bro’s finally stepping up,” Erika teased as she slung an arm around Holcus’s neck, pulling him close. “I thought you were just deadweight, but I guess you’ve got some fight in you.”

Rei, who had settled down beside Theo, gave a small nod in agreement.

The four of them—Theo, Holcus, Erika, and Rei—looked battered and bruised from the relentless battles, their disheveled appearances a testament to the chaos they had endured.

“Damn it…” Holcus muttered, his chest feeling tight.

He turned his head sharply to hide his flustered expression.

“What’s this? Are you crying?” Erika teased, a grin spreading across her face. “Big guy’s got a soft side, huh? Cry it out, buddy!”

“I’m not crying!”

“Not crying, huh?”

“Stop mimicking me!”

“Stop mimicking me~”

“Seriously, stop it!”

“Seriously, stop it~”

“Erika!”

Watching Holcus and Erika bicker like siblings, Theo couldn’t help but smile.

‘If I were to form my own team one day… maybe it would be with them.’

The thought crossed his mind as he gazed at the group.

He imagined what it might be like to travel the world with them—friends by his side, standing together against whatever the future might bring.

‘If only Wellington were here, too,’ Theo thought briefly, a flicker of longing surfacing in his heart.

Then, Theo resolved.

Even though the Black Dragon had implied Wellington might need to be eliminated, Theo wouldn’t let that happen.

‘I’ll make him one of mine. Just like I will with the Twin Dragons and even Hilda.’

No one like Torkel would ever find a place in the Ragnar he would create.

That was his vow.

As the thought solidified in his mind, a sharp sound pierced the air.

Slash!

It was the unmistakable noise of a blade cutting clean through flesh.

Theo and his friends turned their heads toward the source.

Kyle stood tall, his sword having just severed Granada’s head from his shoulders.

The severed head spun through the air before falling lifelessly to the ground.