The Regressor Wants to Become a Hero

Although he wanted to rest, he decided he should report on what had happened at Helrem Fortress first. Pushing through his fatigue, he went to find Verdan.

“Every time I see you, those bags under your eyes just keep getting darker.”

“Are you teasing me?”

“No, I’m just saying it because I feel bad for you.”

Ian chuckled as he took the teacup Verdan handed him. A soft aroma wafted up. One sip, and he could feel his exhaustion lifting.

Of course, it was top-quality. Not surprising, given that Verdan, the heir of the Berger family, worked tirelessly as the acting head. It wouldn’t be fitting to serve cheap tea.

“If you really pity me, then maybe you could stop saying it and lend me a hand?”

“Ah, well, I’m a bit busy right now.”

“It feels like it was just yesterday you said you’d prioritize family matters. Not even a year has passed, and now you’re doing as you please.”

“Then again, it’s not as if I haven’t been raising the family’s reputation, right?”

Verdan clicked his tongue with a disapproving look.

“That’s the only reason I’m letting you off. There’s so much you could be doing.”

Ian widened his eyes.

“Wow, you’re saying that like it’s nothing. You’re treating me like I’m just some asset.”

“I’m viewing you as a valuable resource, that’s all. Once you’re in my position, you’ll understand. Sometimes you miss having even one extra person. But don’t worry—I’ll be more cautious about assigning tasks to you from now on.”

“Oh, why’s that?”

Ian asked, picking up a snack, curious about Verdan’s sudden change in attitude.

“Because even the simplest missions end up with some catastrophe when you’re involved. Once or twice might be fine, but it happens every time you take on an assignment, doesn’t it?”

“Hey, when I first started taking on missions, it wasn’t like that. Don’t you remember? I handled all sorts of minor tasks back then, and there were no Dark Mages involved.”

Though Ian protested with a hint of indignation, Verdan only chuckled dismissively.

“Is that so? As I recall, you ended up entangled with Dark Mages occupying a ruin. Or am I wrong?”

Ian, chewing on his snack with a frown, swallowed and responded.

“Judging by what you’re saying, it sounds like you already know exactly what I’ve been up to?”

“If it’s about the Helrem Fortress incident, I’ve already been briefed.”

“Just to be clear, it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“They all say that. ‘I didn’t do anything.’”

“No, I’m serious! All I did there was study hard, that’s all.”

“Alright then, go on. Explain it, and I’ll be the judge.”

Verdan’s tone was somewhat authoritative, making Ian sigh. This didn’t feel like a formal explanation, but still, he ended up recounting the events for the third time, including parts he’d kept hidden from Decarte, the conductor of the armored train, and Elian of the Green Magic Tower.

When Ian mentioned the fact that he’d attracted foreign interest and that he’d been asked for a sacrifice, Verdan’s face turned cold, to say the least.

“You didn’t mention that to anyone else, did you?”

“Do you think I’d go around blabbering about it like some idiot?”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely!”

“Then keep it that way. It’s not something anyone needs to know.”

“Not even the Hero?”

Verdan let out a small laugh.

“For someone who claims not to be an idiot, you’re asking a pretty foolish question. If you’re dreaming of dying at the Hero’s hand, then go ahead.”

“It’s a joke.”

“For a while… try not to roam around unnecessarily and stay within the family estate.”

Not that Verdan needed to say it—he already planned to, though whether he could was another matter.

“You mentioned getting a report; has there been a decision on what to do about Helrem Fortress?”

“The army’s reserve troops are already mobilizing.”

“Already? That’s fast.”

Considering the incident hadn’t even been a day ago, it was astonishingly quick.

Verdan, thankfully, elaborated.

“This reserve force was specifically prepared for situations like this. If Helrem Fortress had held out even half a day, reinforcements led by a Level 7 general would have arrived.”

“Half a day? How could we hold out with constant attacks from all sides? Maybe if Garavan were Level 7, or if we had at least one more Level 6, it might have been possible. Or if I were strong enough.”

As a forgotten sense of powerlessness resurfaced, Ian found himself chewing on a snack in frustration.

Verdan watched him and smiled bitterly.

“If nothing else, you should at least grow stronger quickly. At this rate, it wouldn’t be surprising if you died a stray death one of these days.”

“So, how about you support me a little in that regard? Don’t you have any rare elixirs that could boost my mana reserves drastically?”

“None at all,” Verdan replied dryly.

“Regrettably, I’ve already taken everything beneficial for myself.”

“I figured. I guess I’ll have to ask the head.”

The current head of the Berger family, Granod Berger, had once made Ian a promise: he’d be given one of the family’s treasures in the vault if he could bring honor to the family.

Ian was sure he’d achieved enough to be worthy of it by now. The only question was whether there was an elixir in that vault.

“Ian, when it’s just us, call him ‘Father.’ Don’t be so stiff with ‘head of the family.’”

“It still feels a bit awkward.”

“Awkward? To call him ‘Father’?”

Verdan frowned, lifting his teacup. It was understandable.

Granod Berger was not exactly a warm father. Compared to their mother, who had been incredibly kind, their father was stern and distant.

Yet it wasn’t that he lacked love for his children—he simply had trouble expressing it.

Verdan wanted to point this out but held his tongue.

“…”

“What? Did I say something strange?”

“No.”

What would be the point of explaining it a hundred times? It would be futile, and he’d be lucky if it didn’t just foster more resentment.

The deep distrust in Ian’s eyes made it clear he couldn’t be convinced. Verdan decided to let it go, hoping Ian would eventually understand on his own.

“Yes, the head is currently stationed at the front line of the defense. Planning to go there?”

“He’s been deployed there for quite a while, hasn’t he? Is he still there?”

“Pretty much. From what I hear, defectors are driving monsters toward the first-line fortress of the defense perimeter. It’s obvious they’re trying to draw attention, but it sounds like there’s a considerable number of them. Don’t even think about going. If you show up, it wouldn’t be surprising if some foreign god descended right after.”

“Heh, seems like you’re getting a kick out of teasing me. I’m not going. Even if I were told to. This incident made me realize my limitations. For now, I have things to work on here at the family estate.”

Saying this, Ian unfolded his crossed legs and stood up.

“Heading out?”

“Yeah. I need some sleep. It’s been a long day.”

“No need to go all the way back to Lus. Use the room from last time; it’s been kept ready for you.”

Ian didn’t hesitate. Leaving Verdan with a lighthearted remark about working hard, he exited the office and headed to his room.

Though he hadn’t shown it outwardly, exhaustion had been accumulating significantly.

He opened the closed door and stepped inside.

With a snap of his fingers, light bloomed in the room shrouded in darkness.

He kicked off his shoes haphazardly and flopped onto the bed.

Perhaps because the tension finally eased, a wave of drowsiness washed over him. His blinking eyelids soon refused to stay open.

* * *

A month had passed since Ian returned from Helrem Fortress and settled in Lampas.

He could proudly say he’d been leading extremely diligent days.

Every morning, he rose early to train his body in the drill hall, persistently working to develop his own unique techniques, akin to Dior’s Flame Jade.

With a clear image already in his mind, he had little hesitation or wandering. But that didn’t mean it was easy.

At times, he collapsed from severe mana depletion, and at other times, he felt excruciating pain from mishandling his mana.

But he didn’t give up. Failure was merely the sacrifice required for progress. He continued, silently and steadily.

If he’d seen no results, he might have felt discouraged. But, surprisingly, he began to glimpse a path through the thorn-covered road.

When he stepped onto that path, he felt an intense sensation pierce through him.

Whoosh!

From his hand, mana arranged in a unique pattern shot skyward.

The flame, leaving a long tail, reached a certain height before bursting and expanding.

The air within a certain radius grew hot and dry. Seeing it brought a smile to his face.

He had grasped the essence.

But this was just the beginning. Ian sought no advice from anyone. Driven by a vague belief that he could do it, he immersed himself in research alone in the drill hall.

The Bane of Evil was based on fire.

Through light and heat, it could bring extreme changes to its surroundings, and, given enough fuel, its scale could grow endlessly.

Moreover, it could drastically shorten the time needed for growth by using explosive effects.

That made fire uniquely effective at dominating space compared to any other attribute.

With a clear understanding of this, Ian infused his mana with conviction, building on his accumulated image.

“I can do this.”

He had no intention of finishing halfheartedly.

Day after day in the drill hall, Ian repeatedly conjured spheres of flame, constantly refining the technique to address its flaws.

The technique had to be prepared quickly, with concise movements, so it could be used under any circumstances, and the casting time needed to be as short as possible.

In the heat of battle, one rarely has the luxury of preparing slowly in the middle of the fray.

On top of that, it was crucial to maintain high control to minimize the influence of external factors or interference. And its power couldn’t remain static.

The longer the battle continued, the more powerful the firepower needed to become. To avoid self-destruction, he had to be able to control the flow and apply it flexibly.

Though these considerations were obvious, they were easy to overlook. Ian didn’t miss them.

Another month passed. With each day, he felt growing exhilaration as the technique’s level of completion rose.

And the repeated process brought him new insights.

“…”

The mana capacity within him, growing explosively like flames.

Standing in the center of the drill hall, Ian finally encountered the moment he’d yearned for above all else.

He closed his eyes, focusing inward. Above the mana core nestled in his dantian, a new ring had formed.

———–