Regressor of the Fallen Family Novel - Chapter 150 (New)

The conflict that broke out the very next morning was intense enough to turn the faces of the Maclaine military pale from the onset. This terror was rooted in the fact that the superhumans, the ultimate powerhouses of every side, had all surfaced at the frontlines at the same time. As the engagement commenced, the sight of the allied battalions surging forward under their leadership was more than enough to plant seeds of dread in the soul of any witness.

“Curse it! Why so suddenly…!”

“They must have come to terms with one another. It is the logical step forward.”

“But to do so now, when our position is so fragile, seems premature.”

“No. Not for today, at least. We have a few cards left to play.”

“What cards?”

Patrick was consumed by confusion, but Logan lacked the time to offer a detailed breakdown. He hadn’t expected to trigger his backup plan quite this early.

‘Even if this succeeds, we cannot rest. And if it fails… no, I can’t let my mind go there.’

With the cords in his neck straining from the force of his voice, Logan bellowed.

“Clayton, you are to engage Luther Kyle. I will take Wicken myself. Knights! Concentrate the Libertiatio strikes on the remaining superhumans! Is that clear?”

“Swiftnighters, steer clear of the blast zones! Focus on the enemy knights attempting to scale the ramparts with me!”

“Understood!”

As the father and son duo of Patrick and Logan rallied their troops while sprinting across the battlements, the knights felt a grim shadow of a final stand looming over them, bracing themselves with the determination of men ready to fall. The rank-and-file soldiers also felt a level of pressure far exceeding the last two days, fighting to steady their shaking limbs.

Shortly thereafter, as a deluge of bolts fell upon the units within range and a series of Libertiatio detonations thundered across the front.

‘It’s time!’

Three Libertiatios flung from Logan’s hand detonated one after another in mid-air. Following the sequence of booming echoes, the localized chaos within Prince Two’s primary division, accompanied by a sudden, freezing gale, transformed the landscape of the war.

“Huan, you treacherous…!”

Fuelled by Duke Yordan’s fury, two superhumans who had been ascending the Aegis walls abandoned the Maclaine front and retreated frantically toward their own base. Half of the knights from Prince Two’s legion, who had been mid-charge toward the stronghold, continued their assault on the walls, while the other half spun around to follow their leaders back to camp in a display of utter absurdity.

A similar frenzy gripped Prince One’s forces moving against the western and southern defenses. Terrified by the erratic movements of Prince Two’s elite, Wicken and Huan Douglas beat a hasty retreat. Within the ranks, those pushing forward and those fleeing backward collided, resulting in a mess of total disorder.

“Open fire! Do not stop!”

“Let them have everything!”

For Maclaine, this was a golden opening.

‘The plan worked!’

The most lethal threats, the superhumans, had vanished from the front.

“Focus your fire on the retreating knights!”

Being the only one who had foreseen this turn of events, Logan observed the enemy’s disarray, issued his orders, and vaulted recklessly off the ramparts.

“Crown Prince?!”

“Stay at your posts! Keep the pressure on!”

Logan shouted back as he touched down on the earth below. Without the superhumans present, he could withdraw whenever he pleased. Observing the turmoil within Prince Two’s divided ranks—some fleeing, some still fighting—Logan’s lips curled into a freezing smirk.

“Haap!”

With a sharp, focused cry, a gargantuan golden blade of energy manifested from the Lux.

Rip!

A dozen advancing enemy knights were sliced through simultaneously.

“Aargh!”

“He’s a demon!!”

These screams didn’t come from the fallen, but from the survivors surrounding them. Most of the infantry and knights began to scramble away from Logan, yet even in the madness, a few dared to challenge him.

“He is the one from Maclaine! Strike him down!”

The commander of Count Chernov’s knights, Oliver Ortega, stepped forward. Known as the Knight of Flash, this high-tier warrior led his personal guard in a charge against Logan. Unfortunately, he had not been a witness to the brutal duel between Logan and Wicken at the southern rampart the day before. He had heard the accounts but had dismissed them as exaggerations.

‘A match for an Aura User? Preposterous! It must have been the work of that sorcerer!’

He was aware of a magic user among the defenders. Having seen the half-giant Luther Kyle forced back, he couldn’t deny the wizard’s presence. However, there were no mages nearby to support Logan now, nor even a single Maclaine knight.

Still, Oliver proceeded with caution. The massive Force Blade he had just witnessed was a power he didn’t care to face head-on. He reasoned that such a massive output must have drained Logan, but he wouldn’t take chances.

“Assault him together! I will deliver the final blow!”

“Yes, sir!”

Following his lead, the elite knights Ternan, Clang, and Phlebon rushed forward. With Logan boxed in from three angles by their synchronized attack, Oliver trailed behind, gathering every ounce of his strength for his finishing move. The Force Blade at the tip of his weapon flickered, pulsing as he waited for the perfect opening to strike through the chaos.

But then, swift as a lightning bolt, a golden line snaked through the air.

Slick.

The heads of his charging subordinates simply drifted away from their bodies in a hollow display of futility.

“What…!”

The shock escaped his lips before he could stop it. Even so, his years of combat experience kicked in, and his body acted on instinct. Utilizing his specialty for sudden bursts of speed, his focused Force Blade lunged like a strike of lightning toward Logan.

However—

Whirl. Click.

The strike that should have been impossible to dodge was caught by the golden serpent and vanished into nothingness. Almost instantly, a searing heat bloomed on his forehead as his muscles stopped responding to his will.

‘Am I… dying this easily?’

It was a reality he couldn’t grasp. But he was granted no further time for reflection. With a high-tier knight butchered in a heartbeat, the others who had intended to join the fray began to scramble backward.

“This is impossible!”

“Run!”

The flaws of a leaderless mob became painfully evident.

“Let’s settle this today!”

Logan ground his teeth and pushed his Force core to its limits, unleashing his full power from the start.

Flash. Scheeear.

He didn’t waste time on every soldier; instead, using his heightened Ki perception, he hunted for the officers and elite knights, moving through the ranks like a specter and claiming their lives. Consequently, not long after his solo descent from the walls, Logan achieved a staggering feat, executing over thirty elite knights, Oliver Ortega among them.

But had his lethal efficiency made him too big a target?

“Kill that man first!”

“He’s the Maclaine leader!”

The remaining top-tier knights, who had been organizing the soldiers, began to converge on Logan’s position.

‘That’s enough for one day.’

His energy reserves were dipping and his complexion was ashen. Sensing the shift in the enemy’s focus, Logan retreated with the speed of the wind, scaling the walls once more.

“The Crown Prince…!”

“As expected…”

“Stop gawking at the prince! Take out more of those cowards before they escape our reach!”

The Maclaine troops looked upon the returning Logan with a fresh wave of reverence. The enemy knights who had been so eager to give chase could only stand in stunned silence at his departing form.

What followed in the struggle for Maclaine was something bordering on a dark comedy, if one can find humor in fields of blood, screams, and corpses.

Boom!

“You absolute moron!! Have you lost your mind? Do you realize the damage you’ve done?!”

[It wasn’t my doing! We had a pact as of yesterday! Why would I—!]

“Some fool on the ground used ice sorcery, you idiot! A rift in the enemy ranks is fine, but this stupidity? Are we supposed to kill each other first? You useless…”

[Pull yourself together, Yordan! If I were going to betray you, would I have been so clumsy about it!]

It was a weak defense, but it held a shred of logic. That thought allowed Yordan Waltermaim to regain a fraction of his composure.

Phew.

“…When this war concludes, I will see to it that yesterday’s promises are kept. Furthermore…”

Crunch.

“…if there is any hint of Prince One’s army wavering or pulling back during this fight, that is when I will finish you first.”

[I will keep that in mind. I will also track down the saboteur who caused this mess and deliver his head to you personally.]

“Hmph. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

A heavy thud echoed from the other side of the communication orb, but—

[Just overlook it this once.]

Huan offered a rare moment of submission, which allowed Yordan to shove down his mounting rage for the time being.

“How did you manage that?”

“I merely poked at the natural paranoia within their alliance.”

“And how did you achieve that, specifically?”

“It was someone I put on the payroll back in the capital. A man buried in gambling debts with a large family to look after.”

Logan gave a casual shrug.

“And the blast?”

“I utilized a scroll. They are common enough in the market. From the Tower of Ice.”

“…And had he been taken alive, wouldn’t that have been a catastrophe?”

“It wouldn’t have mattered. He was led to believe the command originated from Prince One’s camp.”

“…”

Logan’s tone was light, but Patrick’s expression grew heavy as he fell silent.

“This was meant for a deadlock on the central front, but it’s a blessing we could use it now. They just managed a fragile truce, and now that trust is shattered. They won’t be able to rely on one another again.”

“…It truly is a stroke of luck.”

“Yes. Fortune was on our side.”

“Indeed. You were lucky. It’s rare that a scheme of yours works out even better than you planned.”

“Ugh! Father, that’s…”

Wincing at the jab, Logan’s voice trailed off, and Patrick let out a weary exhale.

“But we won’t be able to pull that trick twice, will we?”

“No. They aren’t complete fools.”

The ensuing drama was followed by forty-eight hours of eerie stillness. When the fighting eventually resumed, it mirrored the pattern of the second engagement. Prince Two’s side had Luther Kyle protecting the rear while Duke Yordan Waltermaim led the charge. Prince One’s army saw Wicken Calia taking point—though there was no sign of Huan Douglas, who had previously shared the front with him.

The two-day ceasefire had allowed both sides to reach a singular deduction:

– The strike on Prince Two’s base was a Maclaine deception.

Yet, despite this obvious realization, the unified front from two days prior was nowhere to be found. The underlying suspicion was palpable. While Maclaine found a glimmer of hope in this friction—

“Move the entire army! We crush Maclaine today!”

The start of the assault took an unexpected turn. Regardless of the internal politics, the resolve of the leaders had shifted.

– Letting this linger only invites more interference, whether from Maclaine or the other faction.

This was the unspoken consensus between the two heads, signaling that this might be the final clash on this ground. And before they dealt with each other—

– We will wipe Maclaine off the map.

On this, they were in total agreement.

The battle began in a fashion similar to the second day. However, Yordan had sent his knights charging forward this time, searching for a gap from the rear. He quickly learned through experience that Clayton’s Gravity Control could pin down specific targets regardless of who stood in the way, forcing the Duke to focus entirely on defense while weathering a storm of fire. Wicken, too, was left fuming, unable to reconcile the fact that a commoner like Logan could stand against him as an equal.

The difference this time was that Prince One’s forces didn’t fall back for any clever reason. As the body count grew beneath the ramparts, more enemy knights successfully scaled the walls, creating a dangerous opening in the Maclaine defense. To Patrick, this felt like the inevitable, brutal progression of a siege.

The true crisis began when knights from Prince Two’s legion broke into the positions of the 1st through 5th self-defense squads, who were the ones maintaining the pressure on Duke Yordan Waltermaim. It is impossible to fire a crossbow with precision when an enemy blade is swinging at your throat.

Predictably, the concentrated barrage on Duke Yordan faltered. That was the first crack in the defense. The second occurred when the superhuman, spotting the opening, moved not to secure the wall, but somehow ended up near the eastern battlements where Logan and Wicken were locked in a fierce struggle.

In the midst of the deafening, frantic carnage, did Patrick—who had been tracking Yordan’s every move—feel their eyes meet across the distance, or was it a trick of the light? The slight curve of Yordan’s lip seemed to mock him:

‘Witness your son’s end.’

Patrick had no intention of surviving his child. He abandoned his post and the chain of command, charging directly toward the threat. A single thought consumed him:

I must intercept him. I must protect my son.

As he threw himself from the ledge, putting every bit of his soul into a single strike, he also realized how Moran’s colossal fire aura wiped it away like sea foam. A strange, jarring pain, like being torn from the earth, brought back a ghost of a memory.

‘Of course. It was suicide to challenge an aura.’

That realization came too late as his strength evaporated, leaving him helpless. But curiously, the Duke’s lethal strike seemed to falter for a split second. The murderous intent shifted, and the wave of energy redirected toward his limbs rather than his vitals.

That brief hesitation was all the time needed for another to step in.

“My lord!!”

A voice he knew by heart accompanied a shove that sent him tumbling. Patrick caught a glimpse of a face—a brother-in-arms he had known for half his life—before he was hauled out of the Duke’s reach.

“Oh…