Regressor of the Fallen Family Novel - Chapter 138 (New)

Chapter 138

In truth, it was far more efficient to clear away incoming strikes with a wide-area bombardment than to parry them individually. Unlike typical warriors, Logan possessed a technique perfectly suited for such a predicament. Nevertheless, Logan opted to keep his blade close, physically meeting the barrage of gale-driven blades. While his heightened perception kept him acutely aware of every invisible shard spinning through the air, he chose this path to preserve his stamina. The sheer insanity radiating from Roger Bifrost suggested that this confrontation would be a grueling marathon.

As Logan parried the wind-borne edges sent by Roger Bifrost and fended off the intermittent strikes from Aslan, a spark of inspiration flickered in his mind—a more fluid method to neutralize this chaotic offensive. Having faced comparable maneuvers many times in the past, the concept felt intuitive. ‘Can I pull this off?’ The memory of detonating a hundred Liberatios simultaneously was still etched in his mind, as was the magnificent sight of the ‘Silvery Forceblade’ intercepting a similar assault head-on. The idea that tickled his brain soon flowed down into his grip.

Sshwararak.

The golden Forceblade, which had previously only shifted between lengths of one and three meters, suddenly thinned and elongated like a slender thread, stretching out nearly seven meters. Then, curving fluidly at its master’s command, it lashed out at the surrounding air with immense power.

Sshwaah!

“I’ve got it!”

Logan, cleverly mimicking his foe’s own mechanics, swiftly dismantled Roger Bifrost’s sorcery, and a triumphant grin crossed his face. This wasn’t merely the discovery of a new application for his Forceblade; it was the epiphany that his core strength had undergone a profound evolution. He even felt a sudden clarity regarding the fourth movement of the divine sword art, Flame Cutter, which had remained elusive until this very second.

However, that grin—and specifically the whip-like Forceblade that caused it—ignited a primal, senseless fury in a nearby observer.

“How dare you!”

Aslan’s entire frame surged with a crimson heat, releasing thick red vapors as if he were incinerating his own life essence to fuel a level of power far beyond Overheat. Into the vacuum left by Roger Bifrost’s fading magic, Aslan lunged like a bolt of lightning. ‘This is it!’ The signature style of an old comrade had just been mimicked by the hands of his enemy.

Despite his rage, Aslan was determined to capitalize on this opening. A whip-style Forceblade, while versatile and tricky, possessed a glaring vulnerability: the structural integrity of the energy blade was diminished. If any part of that flexible edge were met with equal or superior impact, it would snap like a dry twig—a flaw that made Plantes a nightmare for the weak but a liability against his peers. Plantes himself had struggled to rectify this weakness but ultimately couldn’t abandon his ingrained methods. The unique Forceblade born of a moment’s whim rarely changed its fundamental nature.

Aslan assumed the same applied to Logan. ‘Go to your grave cursing that genius!’ His timing was flawless. Instead of wind blades, the very air encircling Logan solidified into chains, pinning him in place. At his master’s call, a burst of red electrical energy surged from Aslan. ‘I’ll tear through him, whatever it takes!’ With that grim vow, he hurled himself forward with everything he had.

That choice proved to be his final error. Even though Logan was physically restricted, the golden Forceblade retained its autonomy. Unlike the version Plantes used, it didn’t shatter against Aslan’s red lightning; instead, it coiled around the strike with fluid grace, diverting it with startling speed.

‘What?!’

As his full-power thrust sailed into empty space, the golden Forceblade slithered past his guard and lunged for his throat like a striking cobra. The movement was sleek and surgical, far more refined than anything his old friend had ever displayed.

‘How is this possible…?’

Before the world went dark, Aslan couldn’t fathom how he had been outplayed. “Hup!” Utilizing a brief burst of the Wave Cutter, Logan shattered the binding spell Roger Bifrost had placed on him. Finally unburdened, he leaped over Aslan’s collapsing form and sprinted toward Roger Bifrost. The only obstacles remaining were the enemy knights falling in rapid succession. Carried by their momentum, the Mclane knights pressed their advantage into the heart of the enemy camp.

“Stop them!!”

Roger Bifrost’s command sounded more like a desperate wail. Knights scrambled to intercept him, but those of a lower tier were helpless against the golden whip, which flickered and lashed, entangling and shredding through their ranks with effortless precision. Logan didn’t need the massive, energy-draining visions of the divine sword or the raw brutality of the Iron Blood Sword to clear these lesser foes. With a cold focus, Logan cut down everyone in his path, steadily closing the distance to the enemy commander.

When he finally drew within ten meters of his long-time adversary, he saw that the Earl’s once-cold blue eyes were now twitching with a manic light. “You… I will kill you… no matter the cost!” A strange, feverish aura saturated the air, accompanied by a voice thick with hysterical heat, as a staggering amount of power began to gather around them.

“Earl!”

“Aaagh!”

“This is impossible…”

The twelve wind mages surrounding Roger Bifrost, who had been channeling mana to him, suddenly shriveled. The mana they released was no longer pure white but a tainted red. This chaotic blend of energies funneled into Bifrost’s staff and erupted outward.

“Die!!”

With a scream that sprayed blood, the environment around Logan shifted violently. The air itself felt like a physical extension of the Earl’s hands; breathing became a struggle before the atmosphere compressed with such force it threatened to tear his limbs from his torso. Simultaneously, thousands of translucent wind needles became invisible and rained down upon him. While the threat of a thousand punctures was real, it was the nature of the energy that truly unsettled Logan.

‘This isn’t just mana…’

It was a denser, far more alien energy. Having recently encountered such a force—even if only indirectly—Logan recognized it immediately: Magic Force. This was the power exclusive to sorcerers who had reached the 6th circle. Roger Bifrost had somehow forced his way past his natural limits through forbidden means.

Logan had no choice but to reveal his trump card. ‘Lux!’ A gentle, warm glow radiated from his cherished blade, Lux, quickly wrapping around his body. This sword was the unique masterpiece of a legendary dwarven smith, a weapon imbued with a soul. It was whispered among mages that when such a blade finally bonded with its master, it would manifest a singular power. A form of natural magic beyond standard classification—the power of a Natural Artifact.

In their previous encounter, Lux had awakened its potential while fending off the magic of Juan Douglas. Whether by luck or fate, Logan was now experiencing a similar sensation. ‘Temporal Acceleration.’ Unlike the jarring, uncomfortable speed he had felt from Aslan’s sword Velocitas, this felt as natural as breathing—a total synchronization of mind and body, pushing his speed into a proprietary magical realm.

Logan didn’t have time to wonder why this specific magic suited him so perfectly. ‘Merge!’ Pulses of golden energy radiated from his core, shredding the winds that sought to crush him. The Wave Cutter, now utilizing 16 distinct golden layers, formed a temporary barrier. While formidable, it wasn’t enough to stop the thousands of wind needles, known as the Exterminating Storm, indefinitely. However, it gave Logan the window he needed.

‘Ghost’s Shadow.’ With the combined power of his accelerated perception and the Boots of Wind God, Logan appeared to fold space itself, vanishing from the range of the storm. The golden Forceblade, now curved into a semi-circle—the evolved Snake Blade—sliced through the clusters of wind fangs blocking his path.

Suddenly, Roger Bifrost’s face was right in front of him. Whether it was the backlash of his own magic or true insanity, the Earl’s eyes had rolled back, leaving only the whites visible while dark veins pulsed grotesquely across his face. Seeing the conclusion of a long, bitter rivalry reduced to such a wretched state left an hollow ache in Logan’s chest, but he pressed on with a grim resolve. ‘Let it end now.’

A surge of brilliant gold light lunged for Roger Bifrost’s brow. But to Logan’s amazement, the strike was parried! A shimmering, invisible shield surrounding the Earl shattered, throwing Logan back. And then—

“Logan Mclane!”

The Earl’s eyes snapped back into focus, glowing with an icy blue light. Logan didn’t hesitate. The golden Forceblade curved elegantly, snaking around the reforming barrier to tear into the neck of the pale, newly conscious mage.

Snap.

A spray of blood erupted as the protective shield dissolved into nothingness. As the light faded from Roger Bifrost’s eyes, Logan felt a quiet surge of relief, though he knew the threat wasn’t entirely gone.

“We go to hell together!”

A low, threatening hum vibrated from the staff in the Earl’s hand as mana pooled rapidly, once again paralyzing Logan. But—

“Go alone, Earl.”

With a frigid response, the golden Forceblade severed the hand gripping the staff.

“Aaack!”

As the staff hit the ground, the madness vanished from the Earl’s face. His blond hair turned snowy white in seconds, and his veins receded into age spots as he withered into a man who looked over a century old.

“This can’t be happening…”

His life force was nearly extinguished; he looked like a walking corpse. Black blood seeped from the stump of his right arm, a clear sign of impending death. Standing over his dying rival, Logan felt a strange sense of emptiness.

“Do you have any final words?”

Scattered pockets of enemies were still fighting, but they were in the minority. The battle had long since been won by the Mclane forces.

“Krh… if it weren’t for you…!”

“Is that all you have to say at the end?”

Logan’s blade pulsed with golden light, but Roger Bifrost didn’t stop his attempts to curse him. As he lay broken, his eyes darted to something behind Logan. He pointed a trembling, remaining hand and began to laugh hysterically.

“Kukuk… this isn’t over. You and your entire house will be joining me soon! Hahaha!”

Logan turned his head toward the direction of the Earl’s gesture, and his face paled with dread. He saw a whirlwind standard with an eagle taking flight, and leading a charge of five hundred knights was a man Logan recognized instantly.

“Curse it!”

“Heh… your end is here…”

“Quiet!”

With a swift motion, Logan silenced Roger Bifrost forever. He then turned and roared to his soldiers who were still clearing the field.

“Wecken Kariya! The Storm Sword has arrived! We need to regroup and secure the field immediately!”

A true catastrophe had struck Mclane just as they were on the brink of victory.