Regressor of the Fallen Family chapter 118


Chapter 118: Exhaustion and Ambition

Panting heavily, they cursed their fates.

“Damn it, I’m getting used to this madness. It saddens me.”

“I’d say the same, thank you… So tired.”

Upon arriving at the training grounds of the town’s knighthood, most knights could barely think of getting up, let alone actually do it.

While some struggled to their feet, slowly stretching their weary muscles, one was even looking for his wooden sword to resume training.

“These tough nuts.”

“Crazy is more like it. They’ll ruin their bodies at this rate.”

“They must not have reached their limits yet.”

“Monsters, the lot of them.”

The average knight typically surpassed thirty years of age.

This was a natural result of the awakening period characteristic to most knights, not just the McLaine knighthood.

Therefore, the three teenagers who stood out were inevitably conspicuous.

Though most of the seasoned McLaine knights acknowledged these three as the future aces, the perspective of others—unfamiliar with the trio—was quite different.

“Aren’t they just kids? They don’t even look fully grown.”

“Prodigies, perhaps?”

“And one’s a girl… Wow, beautiful.”

Even as Dylan muttered inadvertently and shrank back under disapproving glares, everyone shared the same awe at these three’s raw potential: ‘Incredible.’

Ronian, Victor, and Eileen led the training and seemed in the best shape despite their youth.

Their age and gender may have catalyzed some prejudice.

That’s when Heinckel made his declaration.

“The test is simple. Choose a knight and prove your skill. Victory doesn’t matter—as long as you demonstrate your ability, you pass. Though, among our knights, these three are the best.”

With that, all gazes naturally settled on the ‘young knights’ still warming up.

“No matter how gifted, at that age…”

Especially after such an exhausting training session.

“They must be worn out.”

The prejudice born from appearances and common sense obscured their better judgment.

Each of the three challengers chose the young trio, confirming Heinckel’s expectation with a nod.

“A spar with the new blood. Your opponents are Ronian, Victor, and Eileen.”

Ronian’s face twisted at Heinckel’s voice. It seemed like a setup, or maybe it was just Heinckel’s peculiar way of testing, but most newcomers ended up choosing either Victor or Eileen…

And the rest chose him.


‘Maybe they go easy on me because I’m from the McLaine family.’

If not, he would have been selected even more frequently.

It was somewhat irritating—being seen as an easy target.

‘Still growing, but…’

He hadn’t reached the heights of his nearly 2-meter-tall father or even his 180cm brother.

‘If only I were a bit taller…’

“No, that’s not it. It’s just that I seem easy. I’m the one who’s still weak.”

His self-motivating murmur startled nearby knights.

“No, not us!”

“We wouldn’t dare, young lord!”

“Such nonsense…”

Among the McLaine knights, ‘brother’ Ronian created the most fear, not the ‘Grey Devil’ Victor or the ‘Warlord’ Eileen.

Whenever Ronian spoke, someone invariably wound up carried away, not to return for a while.

Thus came his paradoxical yet fitting nickname.

Ronian walked toward the new faces, leaving behind grimaces of reluctance.

“I regret this, but to prove my skill…”

Before he could finish, Dylan’s expression contorted as Ronian twirled his wooden sword with an impassive face.

Believing Ronian to be a weary noble too exhausted from recent sparring, Dylan had planned to score some points off the young lord by going easy on him.

But his confidence shifted abruptly.

‘Why am I in pain…’

Dylan realized too late that his sword had missed Ronian’s head by a hair’s breadth, just before his vision blurred from the pain of his own efforts backfiring.

With a thud, Dylan hit the ground.

“Well done, young lord. That was quite the footwork.”


Heinckel nodded, pleased with Ronian’s response, which outweighed simple dismissals like ‘rubbish’ or ‘discard.’

Ronian’s evaluation, closer to that of a peer, would resonate more with the onlooking knights and help the new to integrate better.


Tenan and Jacob, witnessing their comrade’s swift defeat, stiffened as Heinckel signaled them to step forward.

Their regret at their earlier choice—now painfully evident—was too late to matter.

Tenan lost his sword to Victor within a single exchange, rolling to the ground.

Jacob, foolishly grinning at Eileen, ended up battered and carried away, limp from the dozens of blows received.

‘He’s hopeless—a failure.’

The young blood of McLaine continued to grow, and the knighthood’s numbers increased as well.

‘McLaine grows ever stronger, my lord.’

Heinckel couldn’t help but reflect on the catalyst behind these changes, though a hint of worry crept in due to his unanticipated absence.

It was at that precise moment, unknown to Heinckel, that the very person was already within the town’s walls.

* * *

“Nothing happened?”

“Is that so surprising?”

“No, it’s just… uncharacteristically quiet.”

“As if you were hoping something would happen?”

“No, it’s not that. Just strange is all. Of course, it’s better if nothing happens.”

“What did you say?”

“Forget it. Go on, do your thing!”

“My lord?! Master…”

Slamming the door on his overzealous retainer, Rick, Logan shook his head, bemused.

‘Something should have happened by now.’

The lack of trouble bothered him, yet it was preferable to chaos.

Wondering if he was overthinking, Logan quickly washed and headed out again.

Despite his initial desire to rest, he was too eager to sit still with his curiosity piqued.

He lightly grabbed the large satchel that had been his constant over the past ten days and strode towards the heart of the town—the Mage Tower.

“What is all of this?”

“Ah, these are research documents and books from a mage’s laboratory. I thought they might interest you, so I brought them over.”

His explanation seemed nonchalant, but his face screamed otherwise—clearly far too interested himself.

“So, you just need to review this material?”

“Well, if there’s anything of potential, feel free to research it yourself. I promise rewarding results amply.”

“Are you sure these aren’t confidential documents from another magic tower?”

“Absolutely not! They belonged to a mage who crossed me and ended up dead.”

Well, technically, I did go looking for trouble myself.

Suppressing his thoughts, Logan smirked, and Clayton responded with a weary smile.

“Well, then I suppose there’s no problem.”

“I appreciate your help.”

“Of course, leave it to me.”

As Clayton noticed Logan linger, he inquired with a cautious tone,

“Aren’t you leaving? Or is there something else?”

“Ah… about those documents. Can you tell right away?”

Clayton, overwhelmed by his employer’s tranquility in the face of pilfered possessions, blurted out with contained frustration.

“At the moment, Your Grace, my mind is occupied with the development of that bomb. Researching this as well will only cause delays. Is that alright?”

Logan’s inquiry had struck a nerve, and Clayton’s stress from the bomb project was palpable. Expecting Logan to back down, Clayton was met with an unexpected response.

“Even so, please check if there’s anything useful in those research notes first.”

Clayton realized then.

‘He disappeared to get this, didn’t he?’

Odds were, the tale of violently acquiring the documents wasn’t quite accurate.

‘Well, if every disruption led to death, that’d be madness.’

Carving his employer’s penchant for dangerous humor into his memory, Clayton sighed and nodded in agreement.

“I’ll examine the research material as quickly as possible. Will that suffice?”

“Thank you.”

Only after Logan turned to leave did Clayton shake his head in disbelief and settle down with the documents.

But merely three days later…

“Eureka! A breakthrough, Logan!”

An ecstatic Clayton rapped on Logan’s door eagerly.

“…What’s the matter?”

“The documents you brought may revolutionize the realm of magic!”

Basking in Clayton’s excitement, Logan’s face brightened. Yet he noticed an unease on Clayton’s features, hinting at an issue.

“What’s the problem?”

“It’s of utmost importance, so you must be honest, Logan. Did you really obtain them from another tower?”

Somewhat disheartened, Logan chuckled and shook his head.

“I guarantee it—absolutely not.”

Even with Logan’s affirmation, Clayton hesitated before delicately broaching the subject.

“This research outlines a method for permanently imbuing magic into ordinary metals. Although it’s not without flaws, the fundamental framework is there. If perfected…”


The theories conceived by the Massacring Mage were now in Logan’s grasp—and there was more.

“Even with its current state, this theory could significantly advance the development of the bomb you proposed.”

Meeting Clayton’s anxious gaze, Logan internally cheered without making a sound.


One response to “Regressor of the Fallen Family chapter 118”

  1. A really good novel

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