Regressor of the Fallen Family chapter 95


Chapter 95

“Huh, it actually worked.”

During the time when the warm sunlight shone overhead, Clayton could not help but let out a chuckle at the accomplishment he and his disciples managed to achieve, bewildering even himself. From atop the ramparts, he gazed down at the sight below. The moat they had created overnight was more than 5 meters deep and wide, filled with rippling water. Anyone wearing heavy armor would struggle to climb out if they fell into it, knight or not.

The work was a one-time construction effort, so not much needed to be considered. However, to think that in just six hours they managed to dig a channel from the Luther River tributary to the moat, taking into account the height and geology of the land. It was an incredible feat, even for those with experience.

Despite using mana stones generously and utilizing magic and golems, he hadn’t expected the work to be completed so easily.

“Exactly. It can be done if you try.”

Of course, this left all his disciples completely exhausted, and Clayton himself was in dire need of rest, so the term ‘easy’ wasn’t quite appropriate. Nevertheless, it had been easier than expected.

“Sir Logan, it was quite a reckless suggestion this time. Some things can be forced, and some cannot…”

“It worked out, didn’t it?”

As Logan uttered those words, a grim realization dawned upon Clayton; if employers were given the impression that anything could be pushed through, it would only lead to hardship in the future. In construction, the best outcome was to complete the work exactly within the set timeframe, neither sooner nor later. As Clayton was about to make an excuse, internal laughter seized him at his own thoughts.

“Employer? Construction?”

These thoughts naturally drifted into the realm of labor, which he swiftly caught onto. But there was no time to linger on such musings as the imminent battle loomed overhead, leaving the tower’s strength severely depleted.

“However, Sir Logan, with our full magical forces now dispersed, haven’t we wasted our strength right before an expected battle?”

“If it’s of no use in combat, what’s the point? Except for Sir Clayton.”

Stung by the undeniable truth, Clayton could only swallow his words as Logan gave half-hearted consolation.

“You did provide tremendous help though. You should rest now, Sir Clayton.”

“Thank you.”

The battle might be upon them either today or tomorrow, but tired as they were, nothing more could be done.

“However, I have one final request.”


“Do you still have Collapse Scrolls left? With those and Sir Clayton’s magic…”

Logan’s voice trailed off, laced with unexpected and serious implications. It was certainly possible, but…

“Do we really need to take it that far?”

“It’s a necessary situation.”

With that, Logan’s face was once more visible to Clayton. In truth, it was Logan who had been overseeing the moat and canal construction works throughout the night, directing the necessary workforce and materials.

Despite the difference in exhaustion, both had gone the entire night without sleep. Clayton glanced at Logan, a newfound respect welling within him, and slowly nodded.

“I will prepare.”

“Thank you. And the things I said earlier were a joke. Please do rest. You never know when you might be needed.”

Swallowing the bitter retort, Logan turned away from Clayton and cast a heavy gaze outside the fortress.

“The timing couldn’t be more perfect.”

As if on cue, an army appeared beyond the horizon, and Logan gritted his teeth.

“The enemy’s upon us! Prepare for battle!”

Soldiers who had been napping in anticipation of battle and knights sharpening their swords hurried out of the barracks.

The army of McLaine swiftly organized their ranks.

* * *

“Eh? Since when did Tomodo fortress have a moat?”

Rushing fast as the wind and barely having time to organize camp, Roger Bifrost asked his men incredulously upon seeing the transformed appearance of Tomodo.

“It wasn’t there before.”

“To build something like that overnight… Well, they have some skill, but what could it mean? Aslan!”

“Yes, my lord.”

Aslan, the Knights’ Commander and the Knight of Swift, stepped forward promptly.

“What’s the enemies’ strength?”

“From our escaping allies, we heard of less than 150 knights and less than 2,500 soldiers.”

“And the variables?”

“It seems that the lord is a high-grade knight. There are about ten individuals who appear to be Earth mages.”

“Ha… they’ve prepared secret weapons, huh? So, what’s the anticipated outcome?”

“Our overwhelming victory.”

Aslan gave his immediate response, and Roger Bifrost agreed with his assessment.

“Exactly. They’re desperate. Rendor, any other variables?”

“It’s past harvest season, and most of the food was sent back to the main castle. There isn’t enough food inside for nearly 3,000 soldiers. If they don’t want to die of starvation, they’ll have to come out.”

With his subordinate’s reply, Roger Bifrost’s smile deepened.

“Good. Even if we just wait, we win. But should we prolong the lives of those insolent enough to invade my territory for a few more days?”

“Do as you please.”

Shortly thereafter, the Bifrost army, having organized their formation, began their advance.

* * *

“There are just over 300 knights and well over 5,000 soldiers. And those occasionally visible ones, are they mages?”

“Judging by their sky-blue robes and the storm sigil, they appear to be the mages of the Wind Tower. It makes sense, given that Roger Bifrost and his son are from there.”

As Logan added to his father’s analysis, a shadow fell over everyone’s faces. There was a nearly two-fold difference in military strength, and Bifrost’s strength wasn’t just numbers.

“That silver-haired gentleman must be the Knight of Moonlight you mentioned, and that monkey-faced man in the red armor…”

“Aslan Lear, the Knight of Swift, that must be him. And Roger Bifrost is also a 5th circle mage, though outwardly known as 4th circle. You must be cautious.”


Patrick McLaine was indeed a top-grade, and Logan, although Logan was high-grade, he was comparable in might and reputation to a top-grade. And then there was Clayton of the Golem Tower.

‘But honestly, it’s a bit worrying.’

Logan let out a quiet sigh. The top-grades of Bifrost were battling reputations for years, while his father had only recently reached that level. Logan himself was on the upper tier but not an actual top-grade, and Clayton was a 5th circle mage whose greatest strengths didn’t lie in combat.

Every aspect seemed slightly lacking compared to the Bifrost camp. But alas, that was unavoidable.

‘We’ve done everything we can. Up until now, we’ve followed the best choices.’

More troubling than the gap in troops was the fact that ‘that news’ hadn’t arrived yet, although it should have by this stage.

Logan’s ideal scenario was to avoid this siege entirely. However, the signs suggested it was time to let go of that hope.

– To the scum who dare to invade the land of your rightful Lord without knowing their place. You are…

The voice of Roger Bifrost echoed across the battlefield, instilled with killing intent from the start.

“Since when did those scoundrels become Lords…”

As his father’s voice sounded frustrated, Logan calmly commanded the troops around him.

“Prepare to fire!”


With echoes of affirmation, the archers perched between the castle ramparts lifted their repeater crossbows in unison. Though they hadn’t seen much use in actual siege warfare, their position this time was advantageous—from the safety of the walls aiming downward.

– …I will now punish your crimes.

“Why don’t we counter them?”

“What’s the point of wasting strength? Just let him rant by himself.”

At Heinckel’s question, as Logan gave his cold response, Bifrost’s voice rose.

– We will eradicate the McLaine roots! All forces, charge!

With Bifrost’s order, their army advanced..getChildAt(0).getBoundingClientRect().top

The most eager to charge were the knights. The sight of nearly 300 cavalrymen adorned in luxurious armor, each emblazoned with the emblem of a burning rose, rushing ahead as their armor brilliantly reflected the sunlight, was enough to impose psychological pressure.

Yet, as Logan watched, something felt off.

‘They’re charging without shields? Without any preparations?’

Despite the threat of the repeater crossbows, they appeared to be making no precautions.

“Are they that confident of their skills?”

Heinckel murmured incredulously, thinking the same thing.

“They’d be safer if they were cautious. This is just…”

Mid-sentence, Logan realized the truth.

“They’re simply underestimating us. Either they didn’t bother to gather information or they chose to ignore it.”

The posture of the advancing knights conveyed a sense of ease. The knights, who even during combat left their helmet visors up, exposing their faces, showed that same sentiment.

And indeed, although the fleeing soldiers had told them about the repeater crossbows, all they had witnessed were crossbow bolts harmlessly bouncing off the walls, so they didn’t bother to prepare for them.

This realization brought a smile to Logan’s lips.


Worries about the future momentarily vanished.

“Truly perfect.”

It was a chance to strike a crippling blow to the Bifrost Knight Order, an unexpected fortune gifted by the enemy. Logan paid no attention to the 1,500-strong cavalry tailing behind.

“Aim only at their knights! Show them the heat of our welcome!”


As Logan gave the order, the enemy knights entered the crossbows’ range, and then…


With a command, a volley of bolts flew as a deadly shower, engulfing the silver knights in black.

Their eyes widened in horror, an expression visible even from a distance.



“What in the…”

“Block it!”

Regrettably, the foremost knights didn’t suffer as much. Most sustained injuries, but raised their Force abruptly and swung their swords to deflect most attacks, narrowly avoiding fatal wounds.

Nevertheless, the average knights behind were a different story.



“What is this madness!”

With the first volley, nearly thirty knights were hit simultaneously, toppling from their horses and tumbling on the ground. Those who screamed were the lucky ones. Others, struck fatally in the head, eyes, or heart, couldn’t even cry out before their life was snuffed out.


With a smile as grim as the Reaper’s, Logan shouted again.

“Focus on the rear of the knight order!”

With his order, bolts filled the sky once more, raining down in succession.

While the Bifrost knights screamed, a silver barrier suddenly rose in the front ranks.

“Knights, scatter to both sides! Target the other walls!”

Commanding from the center, the face was all too familiar to Logan.


It was Franz, the Knight of Moonlight, who had lifted his sword, unleashing silver Force blades like whips, creating a defensive barrier in front of him.

Though many bolts were deflected, he couldn’t stop all.

‘It’s futile.’

Such a defense had limits, and the whip-like Force blades were a waste of Force.

‘Go on, use all your strength. Top knight Franz.’

The battle was unfolding better than expected. Over 50 Bifrost knights lay on the ground.

“North and south walls! The knights are on the move! Follow them! Keep firing!”

Logan’s orders flowed as McLaine’s forces moved as planned. The father led some troops to the north wall, and Heinckel, alongside Henderson, Nadal, and other high-grade knights, rushed towards the south wall with additional forces.

But as the firing from the west wall weakened for a moment, a figure in red armor leaped towards the walls. His small stature contrasted with his unusually long arms, and his face was monkey-like.

Logan recognized him immediately, despite being a stranger. Aslan Lear. Another top-grade knight of Bifrost.

“You dare!”

Logan dashed towards the direction from which the figure leaped.

“I’ll carve you up!”

Aslan belted out his indignation.

The prideful knight order had suffered an unfathomably humiliating defeat. It was Aslan who had scoffed at tales of McLaine’s new weapon, finding the idea of knights being harmed by mere bolts laughable.

His appearance, subjected to mockery, had driven him to reach the pinnacle of knighthood. To Aslan, the notion of any knight-endangering soldier weapon seemed ludicrous.

Roger Bifrost had shared his confidence, and Franz, his deputy, had respected his decision.

Yet, this was the outcome. However, Aslan was never one to accept fault.

A top-grade knight who had pushed himself to his position through his own will and belief, Aslan’s stubbornness prevailed, even negatively. He was right; it was the enemy’s fault for employing cowardly weapons. And so, he would hold them accountable, allowing his furious rage to fuel his leap.

The supposedly slippery castle walls, smeared with mud, could not deter him. But…



“F-furious… those damned…”

Blending rage and embarrassment, his face flushed hot. The wall was indeed more slippery than he anticipated; mixed with mud and oil, he barely managed to claw into the wall to stop his fall.

As numerous bolts rained down before him, he cursed.

“Damn it all!”

But could mere crossbow bolts really overcome him? True to his moniker, the Knight of Swift, Aslan parried the bolts with a swift motion, using only one hand. With power in his wall-embedded arm, he sprang upward again.

“To kill them all…”

Just as terrified enemy faces came into view, a golden blade plummeted from above his head.



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