Regressing as the Reincarnated Bastard of the Sword Clan

Chapter 323

As dawn broke, the holographic window vanished.

"The capital, huh."

Though it was a destination he would inevitably need to visit, something about it felt oddly unsettling now.

"It's too soon."

Too fast—excessively so.

Even though the system seemed to be the driving force behind his progress, Theo couldn’t help but feel a sense of dissonance about the pace of his growth.

It was as if someone were pushing him forward.

"Am I just being overly cautious?"

Theo shook his head with a dry chuckle.

After all, it was he who had yearned for strength so desperately. He dismissed his concerns as mere paranoia.

He began organizing his plans for the days ahead.

The first face that came to mind was Cassandra’s.

"Cassandra’s development isn’t complete yet."

The process of educating and guiding her to rise as the Mage Empress was progressing steadily, but she was far from ready.

He could accelerate her training, but it would only add to his already mounting burdens.

“Have you figured something out?”

Lodbrok approached from the Naga clan’s library, stretching his arms as he walked.

Theo scratched his cheek with a sheepish grin.

“Don’t be alarmed, but hear me out.”

Theo cautiously broached the subject, and Lodbrok tilted his head slightly in curiosity.

“I’m heading to the capital.”

“What? The capital?”

At those words, Lodbrok let out a baffled laugh.

Having observed Theo’s exploits thus far, Lodbrok had come to associate Theo’s movements with the eruption of major incidents.

And now, Theo was heading to the imperial capital?

For a moment, it almost seemed as if Theo was planning to overthrow the empire itself.

“When have you ever operated within the bounds of reason? I’ll assume this time is no different,” Lodbrok said with a resigned tone.

“Is it because of that ring?”

Lodbrok’s gaze fell on the shining ring.

Under the moonlight and the red star’s glow, its brilliance was undeniable, exuding an air of suspicion.

“Well, yes,” Theo replied, shrugging his shoulders.

Lodbrok snorted and spoke up.

“If you must go, then go.”

There wasn’t the faintest hint of doubt in Lodbrok’s words, as though he had long accepted Theo’s unpredictable nature.

Theo responded with a smile.

“We’ll depart as soon as preparations are complete. Unless there’s somewhere you need to visit first?”

“No need. I’ve already adjusted things back at my nest during my last visit. I won’t need to return for some time.”

Hearing Lodbrok’s reply, Theo felt reassured.

“Thank you.”

He was tempted to say something more, but held his tongue.

"If I tell him I plan to stir up a proper commotion, I’ll never hear the end of it."

The thought amused him.

Even he found it laughable that he could foresee his actions spiraling into chaos.

"Though, this is hardly the kind of matter that can be handled quietly."

Theo, ever pragmatic yet resigned to the inevitability of stirring trouble, readied himself for the next leg of his journey. The capital awaited.

***

Pain and endurance.

These were often synonymous with faith.

Pain demanded repetitive motions or stillness, as well as unwavering belief.

Endurance proved that faith by weathering pain, driving oneself forward like a lash to the soul.

The Second Apostle was pushing himself harder than ever, punishing himself with relentless severity.

Step. Step.

Then, footsteps echoed once more, grating against the Second Apostle’s ears.

The scent of blood from his former adjutant hadn’t even faded yet.

Grinding his teeth, the Second Apostle glared fiercely.

"This time, I’ll erase their very existence."

Such a senseless fool had no place among his subordinates.

He intended to set an example so severe that not even reincarnation would grant the offender solace.

Step. Step.

Yet, the footsteps came on, undeterred.

Whoosh.

A cold wind swept in, ruffling the Second Apostle’s hair.

But it wasn’t natural.

It was the oppressive force emanating from mere movement—an aura of raw, tyrannical dominance.

How could he forget?

If anyone, the Second Apostle knew precisely who those footsteps belonged to.

"Still the same as ever."

The unchanging rhythm of steps, almost mechanical in their precision, belonged to a figure who made the Second Apostle shudder.

“Well, what an unworthy guest for such an esteemed place,” the Second Apostle sneered, turning to face the First Apostle.

The First Apostle met the Second Apostle’s disdainful tone with an emotionless gaze, as though the humiliation he had once endured was already forgotten.

“I have come to deliver news.”

The deep voice filled the cavern, its sheer power pressing against the Second Apostle’s eardrums. He let out a bitter laugh.

“You’ve come in person just to deliver news? How merciful you’ve grown with age, First Apostle. And as for what you’d report, it’s obvious, isn’t it?”

At this point, there was only one piece of news worth delivering.

Many plans were in motion, but only one had reached a conclusion recently.

“The old fool from the Mage Tower fled, his grandson is dead, and the treasure the Naga clan guarded has ended up in Ragnar’s hands. So? Are you satisfied now? Did you come all the way here just to spew that nonsense?”

The Second Apostle’s words were sharp and mocking, as though driving a stake into the First Apostle.

“It is as the One desired. But that is not why I’m here.”

In that moment, the Second Apostle felt his body stiffen, as though struck by an unseen force.

“What… did you just say?”

He barely managed to steady himself, but the next words from the First Apostle left him dizzy with shock.

"The One… The Nameless Sovereign… They would not lie."

Even those who lacked deep faith dared not speak the Nameless Sovereign’s name in falsehood.

The very name carried reverence and sanctity beyond question.

Even the First Apostle rarely invoked it lightly.

To hear this now—was it an act of consideration? Or mockery?

But more importantly—

"Why wasn’t I told about this…?"

The Second Apostle’s body trembled violently, his legs threatening to give out beneath him.

Unknowingly, he bit his lip hard enough that blood trickled down.

“You and I have both waited long enough. But now, it ends.”

The First Apostle’s words made the Second Apostle’s brow twitch.

As impactful as those words were, what truly struck him was the First Apostle’s expression.

“At last! The time has come… to prove our faith!”

The First Apostle, who had never displayed anything beyond anger, now raised his voice in elation, eyes shimmering with ecstasy.

That look quickly twisted into something terrifying—madness glinting in his eyes as they locked onto the Second Apostle.

“Ragnar will head to the capital. This is your final command—and your final opportunity.”

His voice dropped, heavy with authority, and the air in the cavern grew oppressively thick.

Rumble! Rumble!

The cavern trembled under the weight of the First Apostle’s power, dust raining down from above.

“Go to the capital. Capture Ragnar. Failure will not be tolerated. If you do…”

At that moment, all sound disappeared.

The tremors, the air itself—everything fell silent.

An icy killing intent sharper than any blade pierced the Second Apostle.

"Khrrrk!"

He struggled to suppress a groan as he endured the suffocating pressure.

The First Apostle left the threat unspoken, a chilling smile playing on his lips as he turned away.

Step. Step…

The fading footsteps stirred a tempest of emotions within the Second Apostle.

Humiliation and disgrace from the encounter warred with an overwhelming sense of loss and fury.

More than anything, the First Apostle’s display of emotion had pierced his heart like a dagger.

“…”

The silence threatened to swallow the Second Apostle whole.

For a fleeting moment, he thought he might simply vanish into the void—and found himself strangely at peace with the idea.

The emotions coursing through him now were pitiful, even wretched.

“Am I… insufficient for you?”

His abilities, his strength—he could acknowledge his limitations.

Though the Apostles were nominally ranked in the order of their arrival, paradoxically, it was also a reflection of their power.

Years of experience and training had created an insurmountable gap, one that would never close.

"But my devotion… I believed it surpassed anyone else’s…"

He had prided himself on the depth of his faith, believing it unmatched among the Apostles.

That pride had driven him, a noble Dark Elf, to coexist with lesser beings such as vampires and werewolves under one roof.

"And yet…"

He couldn’t accept it.

The Nameless Sovereign would never stoop to favoring one follower over another—or so he thought.

"Yes, surely not… But then why…"

Why did he feel so abandoned?

Just minutes ago, the mere notion of doubt had been unthinkable. Yet now, mistrust seeped in like a poison.

Drip.

Hot tears rolled down his cheeks, falling to the ground and blooming into crimson flowers.

Staring at them, the Second Apostle’s vision grew increasingly blurred.

***

Clank. Clank.

The loud clatter of armor echoed through the hallway.

A lavish carpet, adorned with gold embroidery and crimson fabric, stretched along the path.

On either side stood heavily armed imperial guards, lined up in perfect formation.

Walking confidently between them was Felix, the captain of the Empire's First Knight Order.

He stopped before an enormous door decorated with leather and jewels.

“The captain of the First Knight Order has arrived,” the gatekeeper announced.

A voice from inside promptly called for him to enter, and the doors opened.

Inside the chamber, a dazzling throne room lay beyond the doorway.

Standing beside the imperial throne was the Court Duke, his face twisted in displeasure as he looked down on Felix.

Just below him, nobles who leached off the Empire sat in a row, observing the scene.

"Court Duke."

Felix’s gaze briefly lingered on the man, and he felt a surge of anger deep within his chest.

But he gave no outward sign of his emotions.

“Felix, captain of the First Knight Order, greets the great Sun of the Empire,” he said, kneeling on one knee in deference to the Emperor.

"His complexion looks even worse…"

A quick glance revealed that the Emperor’s face was more ashen than before, his energy visibly drained.

Felix unconsciously clenched his fist at the sight.

“What brings you to seek an audience with Us today?”

The Emperor’s voice, tinged with a metallic rasp, betrayed the decline of his health.

“One of our vassals, the Mage Tower, has gone silent. Upon investigation, we discovered that all its members have vanished.”

“…!”
“…!”

The Court Duke and the nobles exchanged alarmed glances at the report.

"Pathetic charades…"

Felix felt another wave of disgust but suppressed it, knowing he could only endure for now.

“Hmm. Then proceed with further investigations—”

At that moment, the Court Duke stepped forward, bowing his head as he interrupted the Emperor.

“Your Majesty, we are already aware of the situation. Please, do not trouble yourself further with this matter.”

His words dripped with feigned loyalty, but Felix’s sharp gaze caught the calculated undertone.

The Court Duke’s interference, coupled with the nobles' reactions, made Felix’s insides churn, yet he remained composed, silently observing the unfolding exchange.

The tension in the room grew, the Emperor’s frailty casting a shadow over the proceedings.