Regressing as the Reincarnated Bastard of the Sword Clan

Chapter 220

“The Eastern lands of former Troivan are hereby granted as a fiefdom to Young Lord Theo Ragnar. He is ordered to purge the remnants of the Troivan rebels and conduct a search for the Sacred Demon Sect.”

“I accept the decree.”

The command delivered through an envoy from Kyle carried immense weight for Theo’s future activities in the East. With the official authority to hunt rebels and investigate the Sacred Demon Sect, no one would dare to challenge him lightly under such a pretense.

As Theo departed Winterer, the residents sent him off with cheers and unwavering confidence, believing he would once again drive the Sacred Demon Sect into a corner and finish the job.

• “It doesn’t matter how slippery those rats from the Sacred Demon Sect are—our Young Lord can handle them. Of course, he can!”

• “Exactly! He secured his position at just sixteen years old!”

• “He’s the one destined to bring Ragnar into a new era of glory after Lord Kyle!”

If Theo could eliminate the Sacred Demon Sect, an enemy the Empire itself had failed to eradicate, it would be a victory unmatched by any other.

With hope and admiration following in his wake, Theo began his journey to the East, accompanied by a host of volunteers.

• “They all look so sharp and capable. Where does he even find such talent?”

• “You know, from the Fourth Training Ground. Those oddballs. That’s them, right?”

• “Their skills have definitely improved a lot recently. But… even so… the very back of the procession, what’s that about? Hmm.”

• “The Young Lord must have a plan for it.”

Indeed, the eyes of the crowd were drawn to the rear of Theo’s procession, where a familiar yet conspicuously out-of-place figure trudged along.

“…”

This person, lips pressed tightly together, marched silently, well aware of how mismatched he looked in this company.

Only a few days ago, he had been a prisoner. Now, he bore no restraints.

It was none other than Kincarnon.

The Last Encounter in the Prison

“Big Brother.”

At the prison, just before their final parting, Theo had turned back and called to Kincarnon, who was still shackled behind the bars.

He had already extracted all the information he needed from him. So why come back? And with such an oddly respectful tone?

“Would you consider joining me?”

Kincarnon stared at him, baffled.

Had he misheard?

But Theo simply smiled. “As you know, I’m heading to the East. But if I’m to wage war against the Sacred Demon Sect, I can’t spare time to govern the former Troivan lands.”

“…Don’t tell me you’re asking me to rule in your stead.”

“Why not?”

“Did you eat something bad?”

“I’m perfectly fine.”

“You would entrust me—someone who tried to usurp your position as a Chosen and challenged you—to such a responsibility?”

“Why take the risk of appointing someone unproven when a capable individual is right in front of me?”

Kincarnon couldn’t even muster a laugh. Instead, his face twisted in a grimace.

“If this is your idea of mocking me, save your breath. If this is the caliber of a man who claims to succeed Ragnar…”

“If I wanted to mock you, there are plenty of easier ways to do it.”

“…”

“You just need to answer one question. Will you follow me, or won’t you?”

Kincarnon glared at Theo, expecting ridicule.

But Theo wasn’t mocking him.

His expression was steady, his gaze composed. It was at that moment Kincarnon realized:

• Ah, this brat no longer considers me a threat.

Perhaps it was because Theo had already crushed him once. Perhaps Theo felt emboldened after his victory. Either way, it was clear: Theo believed he could crush Kincarnon again, no matter what.

And Kincarnon understood why.

• Unlike me, who clings to the past, this boy fixes his gaze on the future. He’s already moved on to seizing the next opportunity.

It was a difference in perspective: the man who dwells in the past versus the man who strides into the future.

It was only natural that the latter would not fear the former.

Crunch.

With that realization, the last remnants of pride and defiance within Kincarnon shattered.

He had lost—both in battle and in spirit.

“…Do whatever you want.”

That was all Kincarnon could manage as he shut his eyes tightly, resigning himself to whatever fate Theo had in store.

“Then I’ll see you outside,” Theo said, accepting Kincarnon’s surrender as if it were only natural. Shortly after, he placed Kincarnon in the Sixth Division of the White Armored Corps.

The Aftermath of Theo’s Decision

The news caused a stir in Winterer. Even Black Dragon and Peach Blossom Princess paid Theo visits to express their concerns.

“Ragnar’s law is survival of the fittest,” Theo explained. “I won, and Kincarnon lost. That’s why I took him in. It’s within the rules.”

“I understand, but—”

“Besides, there’s a fundamental flaw in the Ragnar succession system. I intend to fix it during my generation.”

“A flaw?”

“Yes. The competition for the throne often escalates into outright civil war. Those who back the wrong candidate are purged en masse. The loss of talent is staggering.”

This was an issue that Theo had pondered for a long time.

How many brilliant individuals had been sacrificed in the throne wars?

How many experts had been discarded, not because they were unworthy, but because they chose the wrong side?

Such a system bred endless grudges between the victors and the defeated, sowing seeds of division within Ragnar.

From Hilda, the Mad Dragon, Kyle, Fengzun, and even Kincarnon—Theo believed that consolidating such talents under Ragnar could have prevented its current crisis of survival.

“Fratricidal strife is no longer my hobby.”

Theo’s declaration was resolute. Tradition or not, he would not perpetuate a broken system.

New Members of the Sixth Division

This new vision led to the integration of not just Kincarnon but also Lezé and Ansio into the Sixth Division.

“Uh, excuse me? Young Lord? Are we livestock now, being dragged around by a leash? Care to explain?”

“A transfer order…? I agree with Lezé! This is an outrageous abuse of authority!”

Both Lezé and Ansio protested fiercely.

Theo dismissed their complaints with a simple, almost casual remark:

“If you don’t like it, fight me.”

“…”

“…”

It was an argument neither of them could refute. Neither had any confidence they could best Theo in a duel.

And truthfully, their situations left them little room for maneuver.

Lezé, as a newly minted member of the Nine Dragons, still had much to prove. Participating in the Sacred Demon Sect campaign was the perfect opportunity to solidify her status.

Ansio, on the other hand, had been forced to submit after the Mad Dragon aligned himself with Theo. Severing that connection would mean losing his entire foundation.

“Well… on second thought, if helping the Young Lord with the Eastern campaign raises my prestige, I suppose I have no choice. Consider me a willing participant.”

“I’ll join too. My master has already declared his support for you, and the family needs unity now more than ever.”

Theo smiled, pleased with the outcome. Keeping potential threats close, where he could monitor and use them, was infinitely better than letting them plot in the shadows.

As they joined the march eastward, Lodbrok sighed deeply.

?This kid… he’s going to squeeze them for every ounce of usefulness. Just like he does with me.?

Even Lodbrok couldn’t help but pity those who, like himself, had been drawn into Theo’s grasp.

***

Whoooosh…

On the fourth day of their journey aboard the magical locomotive, Theo and his entourage disembarked at a train station. The moment they stepped onto the platform, they were struck by an eerie atmosphere.

“...Was this place always this quiet?”

Lezé scanned the surroundings of the station with a slightly puzzled expression. The city of Farington, considered the capital of Troivan’s domain, was known as a bustling metropolis rivaling Winterer in prosperity. In some ways, it even surpassed it with its sheer volume of trade and its ever-moving crowds.

Lezé herself had visited Farington before the Northern War began and vividly remembered the city's vibrant, lively streets.

But now? The area surrounding the station was a ghost town. Not a single passerby was in sight. Shops were closed, and there wasn’t even a street vendor to be seen.

“The fate of the defeated is often a miserable one,” Theo said calmly.

“Still, you’d think someone would show up to greet the new lord. This is… odd.”

Even if the city’s economy had been crippled, the administrative body of Ragnar, which had taken over governance, should still be functioning. A young lord of Ragnar had arrived—there should have been some form of reception, even if only symbolic.

For there to be nothing… no one… it wasn’t just strange. It was outright disrespectful.

Despite being brought here against her will, even Lezé couldn’t stomach the blatant disregard for hierarchical order.

“Rommel.”

Sssk—

Lezé’s shadow rippled as a masked figure emerged from its depths, moving fluidly like ink spilling across paper.

“Bring the one in charge here.”

“By your command.”

The masked figure melted back into the shadows and disappeared.

With the Deathbird’s Strikeforce dispatched, it was only a matter of time before the culprits were dragged before them. If they resisted, their severed heads would suffice.

Something’s off…

But Theo could sense it already. This eerie silence—there was something deeply unnatural about it. A feeling of déjà vu settled over him.

The air itself felt familiar.

Too familiar.

“Lodbrok.”

?Yes. It seems my suspicions are correct.?

Lodbrok’s voice was deep, calm, yet weighted with unease.

?The stench of death is too thick in this place. This city… it’s already under the control of the Sacred Demon Sect.?