Regressor of the Fallen Family Novel - Chapter 155 (New)

“Damn it all…!”

The warrior positioned beside the youth with platinum hair, First Prince Rohiter von Grandia of the Royal House of Granadia, was the first to strike. Despite his young looks, the fierce crimson Feldblade he brandished identified him as a member of the clandestine forces held in reserve by the Second Prince’s faction. However, in this current chaos, he lacked the strength to truly change the outcome.

“Crush them!”

At Logan’s cold order, the red gems gripped by the surrounding knights were hurled like a storm of hail into the shimmering distortions in the air.

BOOOOM!

Scores of magic explosives, rarely seen in such quantities, ignited at once with a thunderous roar as they tore through the heart of the enemy’s command center. Though unintended, the fading magical shield acted as a pressure cooker, trapping the shockwaves that should have dissipated. The force reflected inward, unintentionally multiplying the destructive power of the bombs.

When the translucent wall finally shattered and the scorched remains of the camp were revealed, Logan stood before the First Prince. Among the blackened remains of his guards, the prince had survived with only light burns. He had likely been saved by the desperate protection of his knights and sorcerers, but in this moment, such survival was futile.

“You certainly are hard to kill.”

“How dare you… You filthy animal! Get out of my sight!”

Logan was tempted to mock such a pathetic response, but he noticed the enemy divisions closing in around them were preparing to strike.

SNAP.

Refusing to waste another second, Logan severed the First Prince’s head with a single, fluid motion. The royal head hit the dirt with a dull thud. Raising it high on the point of his blade, Logan bellowed to the field, “Rohiter von Grandia is dead by my hand!” He offered no further words. By eliminating the man destined for the throne, the First Prince’s forces would descend into a state of total disorder from that single announcement.

However…

“Seize him and claim your fortune! Whoever delivers the head of McLane to me, the House of Douglas pledges on its very name a reward of 100 million gold!” Suddenly, a scream of pure fury ripped across the battlefield, momentarily silencing the violence. The mention of such a staggering, nearly impossible bounty hung heavy in the air.

“What idiotic nonsense,” Logan muttered, shaking his head. Anyone with a shred of logic could see the lie. It was doubtful the House of Douglas, the very architects of this civil war, would even survive the night, let alone possess the means to pay such a sum. And even if they did, would the duke actually part with that much gold?

To any objective observer, the frantic shout from Juan Douglas was the act of a desperate man. But few on this blood-soaked field possessed the clarity of mind to realize that.

“AAAAAH!”

“Kill him!”

“There! The one with the red hair!”

To the common soldiers of the First Prince’s army, it felt as though a legendary treasure had manifested right in front of them. To the unlearned masses, the House of Douglas was an eternal pillar of authority, much like the monarchy itself—a power that could never truly fall.

Seeing the greed ignite in their eyes, Logan let out an exhausted breath. I thought this was going too well. Lately, he had begun to question his own tactical foresight more than he liked.

It was a relief, however, to see the Militia emerging from the city gates of Aegis Fortress, armed with their rapid-fire repeating crossbows. Between the support of the Esperanza Order and his own elite units regrouping, Logan’s path forward became clear. Regardless of the mess, the target remained the same.

“We are striking the Second Prince’s flank! Signal the flags! Direct all fortress reinforcements toward the Second Prince’s lines!” If the Second Prince fell, the conflict would be over.

“But, commander, the First Prince’s men are closing the circle around us…”

“We will cut our way through! Crossbow cavalry, form up and protect our perimeter! Shoot down any man who gets close, and the knights will follow me to carve a path!”

“Understood!”

It was a gamble, one that accepted the likelihood of heavy losses. Yet, if they reached their mark, the war ended today.

“Logan, Yordan is shielding the Second Prince. He has yet to commit to the fight.”

“We will deal with him when we get there.”

I will take whatever risk is necessary.

Caught in the same battle-frenzy as those around him, Logan charged. But the resistance was far stiffer than their earlier push toward the First Prince’s camp.

CRACK.

“AAAH!”

“He’s a demon!”

“Kill the monster!”

A golden blade swept through the ranks, leaving a trail of broken bodies. Despite the terrifying display, the enemy soldiers at their rear pressed forward, spurred by the promise of gold.

To their front, the noble families of the Baron’s faction pushed back hard, while behind them, the knights of the Waltermaim Order cut down any common soldier who dared to retreat. This was the kingdom’s largest knightly order clashing with its most elite—the Esperanza. More than half of the Order had been pulled from the Aegis Fortress front specifically to halt Logan and the McLane vanguard.

In their desperation, they turned to the most brutal tactics available.

As Logan’s momentum began to falter under the weight of the enemy’s front lines, the McLane knights at his back started to take heavy damage.

Logan finally turned to his hidden card.

“Release the Liberatio! Clear the road at any cost!”

The command was given—the order to use the magic explosives each knight carried. They were meant to be a final, desperate measure.

“URGH!”

As he cut down a foe, the McLane knight Roselio felt the cold steel of an enemy blade sink into his ribs.

There are just too many… Damn.

Fortunately, he could still think, meaning his heart was intact for the moment; however, the wound was deep and would soon be fatal on a battlefield like this. But the real danger was in his kit: the magic bombs tucked inside his silver plate, marked with the flame crest, were beginning to glow white-hot from the impact.

Unlike his peers, who carried only a few Liberatios to stay light, he had packed more than ten.

If they went off now…

My brothers will be caught in the blast.

“Don’t get greedy with these things, or you’ll get poked before you can throw them.”

“If you take a hit to the chest, it’s over. The internal pressure of the plate will trigger the whole lot. Hey, Rosé, if that happens, just grab a bad guy and take them with you. Don’t blow us up.”

The dark humor of his lifelong companions flashed through his mind.

Damn it… Leo, you idiot. I told you to watch your mouth, didn’t I?

“Rosé!”

He usually hated that feminine nickname, but now it sounded sweet, laced with the obvious terror of his friend. That fear gave Roselio the surge of adrenaline he needed to roar as he pulled together his fading strength.

“GET BACK!”

He refused to pull the sword from his chest, knowing his life would pour out with it. Instead, Roselio grabbed the body of a fallen enemy and sprinted into the thickest part of the opposing line.

“Look after my boy, Leo!”

He tried to scream his final request, but it was lost in a spray of blood. It didn’t truly matter; even if Leo hadn’t caught the words, he would protect Roselio’s son. They had sworn it before the first march.

Though the House of McLane would likely provide for the child, the knight, who had only worn their colors for a year, put more faith in his brother-in-arms than a lord. He hadn’t fought this war out of blind feudal loyalty, but because he wouldn’t let his friends stand alone.

I’m trusting you, Leo.

As the light faded from his eyes, his son’s face was the only thing he saw.

I’m sorry, Russell.

With a silent goodbye to the child he was leaving behind, a massive explosion erupted from Roselio, incinerating everything within dozens of meters.

BOOOOM!

“AAHHH! You bastards!!”

Inspired by the sacrifice of Roselio—a man highly respected in their ranks—several other McLane knights chose to turn themselves into living bombs when they realized their wounds were mortal. As the McLane push had started to wane, these tactical detonations and a storm of thrown Liberatios allowed them to reclaim their momentum.

Then, Patrick surged to the front, forcing the pace.

“Logan. Fall back for a moment. I will break this line!”

“Father?”

“I can see Jordan’s gray hair from here. No one but you gets to take that head… URGH!”

CRACK.

Pushing his body beyond its breaking point, Patrick swung his Feldblade, which seemed to grow by half its size as it carved through the enemy ranks.

“Conserve your energy! I will get you to him!”

His brow was drenched in sweat. His body was screaming. His hands had begun to shake.

Despite looking like he might drop at any second, Patrick’s knights followed him with absolute faith.

“We’re with you, my lord!”

“We might not be the commander, but—”

“We can hold this ground!”

Pfram, Hector, and Jeddy—the most veteran of the high-guard and Patrick’s personal students—formed a protective shell around their master.

“We will clear the path!”

Though they were only intermediate-level warriors, in that moment, every knight displayed the ferocity of Patrick himself.

“YAAAAH!”

With a savage cry and the sweep of crimson blades, they forced the front open.

“WATCH ME!”

“I’m right here!”

The older knights hurled themselves into the gaps, trading blood for every inch of ground. Their wounds were many, but their sacrifice kept the formation moving forward.

Unfortunately, will alone cannot always change reality. As Yordan’s face finally came into view, the Second Prince’s army—realizing the supply of Liberatios was running low—tightened their ranks. Simultaneously, the First Prince’s soldiers hammered their rear with a relentless barrage of bolts. They were now the center of a perfect trap.

Seeing the encirclement close in, Logan ground his teeth and prepared to lead a suicidal breakthrough, but Patrick saw another way.

He saw a mocking smirk.

Whether Yordan was truly laughing or if it was just Patrick’s rage-fueled perception didn’t matter.

I’m going to wipe that look off your face!

In a surge of boiling adrenaline and a sudden flash of martial clarity, Patrick adjusted his grip.

“Logan!”

“Yes?!”

Before his confused son, Patrick brandished a transformed Feldblade. It had become flat and broad—a shape that defied the usual laws of high-grade aura manipulation. He didn’t know how he had done it; it was a weapon forged from pure fury and a moment of genius.

As Logan realized the plan and stepped onto the flat of the blade, Patrick roared,

“GO!”

The spring-loaded Feldblade acted as a catapult, launching the armored youth into the air, soaring dozens of meters over the battlefield.

“Enemy above!”

“He’s coming for the General!”

“Stop him!”

While his guards scrambled in panic, Yordan managed a grim smile. His lines were finally holding against the other three masters, and the McLane elite were completely pinned down.

The Esperanza Order was still a threat, but they would be picked off once McLane and his men were dead.

The casualties can be replaced with the First Prince’s survivors.

The lords of the now-leaderless First Prince’s faction would eventually have to turn to him. They couldn’t exactly join McLane, the very man who had executed their prince.

In a twisted way, the boy who killed the First Prince had done him a favor.

Therefore,

“I will deal with him! Finish the others!”

He would personally write the end of this saga.

“You won’t escape this time, Logan McLane. I’m going to kill you with my own hands.”

Yordan Waltermaim, the kingdom’s second greatest warrior, waited for Logan with a murderous grin.