The Regressed Son of a Duke is an Assassin chapter 162


The Regressed Son of a Duke is an Assassin

Chapter 162: Salvation and Execution (1)

Although I’ve mentioned this before, humans are extremely honest animals; in the face of suffering, everyone reveals their hideous true nature.

Galas said that he never intended to create a marionette puppet from the beginning. I can assure you on my assassin’s life, he was not lying. As someone who has taken countless lives, I can tell just by looking into his eyes. The moment he realized death’s shadow loomed near, he spilled everything he knew, and within that torrent of truth, not a single lie existed.

This means, essentially, that Boris had lied to me. How often does one experience such a thing? Where you might be completely stumped by a situation only to find a solution upon an unexpected incident. It’s as if starting from that serendipitous moment, all the scattered fragments of a complicated problem begin to come together.

The change in Boris’ personality isn’t a new occurrence. Since the creation of the first marionette puppet, or even before that, he may have changed his personality to suit his whims. So where then, could his true personality be now?

Considering Ceyram was certain that his true self does not exist within this city, it seems that Boris has left behind a hollow shell and a different personality, concealing his true presence completely.

But why? For what purpose?

Shouldn’t they be notified as quickly as possible that the existence they were so desperately searching for is, in fact, at the Academy? A whole month has passed without finding the slightest trace; it’s time to think differently.

He must be concealing himself for some reason, masterminding some plot against me from the shadows. What he needs most right now is a place and time to hide. However, given Mist’s nature to pursue a target until death, it’s impossible for a mere human to find a safe haven anywhere on this continent.

But what if someone retreated to a place entirely of their own, imperceptible to anyone else? Is there such a space?

Though of a different kind, Boris is like me, a special human who possesses a divine artifact. This means that what he can do, I can also do, and what I can do, he is equally capable of executing.

A space similar in power to the divine, one that can only be generated by those who possess the divine artifact, a space that cannot be accessed by any who are not permitted, a space that can easily reach other spaces of the same nature—that is what is referred to as a godly subspace.

Following the familiar yet sickening aura, I walked outside. The cold night breeze brushing against my skin was not enough to cool my seething rage.

Look at that familiar, almost welcoming figure. Wrapped in bright formless light, with a pure white scripture tightly gripped in hand. In response, my hand that was holding Ceyram trembled violently.

Though it may seem out of the blue, I suddenly wanted to see my own face in the mirror. I was curious whether I wore a smile of joy or if I had lit the twin wicks of rage.

“You seem to have been waiting for me,” I said, the moment I heard his first words unmasking himself, harmoniously blended with his characteristic loathsome laugh. My lips curled into a wide grin.

“Before anything, I’ll ask you, who are you?”

“Have you forgotten me already? That’s deeply regretful. I wonder if you can even imagine how long I’ve waited for this moment of reunion.”

The same.

It was the same smile I had seen in Rowen and in my past life, enough to send shivers down my spine. My body and mind were already full of conviction about his identity.

“Did you do well with my other self while I was gone?”

“So you switch personalities as easily as changing clothes?”

“It’s nothing like that. Just a small privilege held by the black-blooded clan.”

He stepped to the side and intentionally showed me the glow emitting from underneath the slightly raised earth.

“Anyway, you and I both possess divine artifacts. You must understand the current situation. My personality was in a place that doesn’t exist on this land, within the light’s subspace along with the Holy Scriptures.”

All as I had expected.

That’s why Ceyram couldn’t find a single trace, no matter how much he searched.

“I have been enduring agonizing times in that space, counting the days until I could face you. But this is a little unexpected. Even if it wasn’t the real me, the fact that you have managed not to cut down this body shows commendable patience. I would like to applaud such perseverance.”


From the beginning, he never intended to be cut down by that false personality. If he had, he wouldn’t be able to wear that sly smirk as if everything had gone as planned.

“Sian Vert. Even if the relationship between you and me can’t mix, like water and oil, you are a special person to me. You’ve made me feel emotions I’ve never felt before in my life.”

The feeling is mutual.

Through you and your master, I experienced the bitter pain of betrayal for the first time.

“Do you remember our first meeting? I still haven’t forgotten the look in your eyes back then. It wasn’t the look of wary of a stranger, but one of contempt for a target of vengeance. Why do you suppose that is? Why did you look at me like that, someone you were merely seeing for the first time?”

“Do you think I’ll answer that?”

“Of course not. I don’t want to resolve the current curiosity immediately. Wouldn’t it be better to resolve it when our relationship has fully ripened? It would be much more satisfying that way.”


“So regretfully, I’ll have to turn my back on you once more…”

– Bang!

I unleashed my suppressed power, and a curtain of black mist descended around us.

“The best time has come? Good. Very good. But do you know what?” My murderous intent suppressed his gleeful eyes.

“Right now, I don’t have any thoughts other than wanting to kill you.”

No need to drag this out any further.

If I deal with you, entangled with doubts and suspicions about me, my thrill would soar to the utmost highs. It would offer an extreme sense of accomplishment unlike any ever experienced, a moment ripe for the taking.

For the greater moments to come.

“I’m not a being of salvation like you all. I’m an executioner who figures out how to make you all beg to be saved from the pits of despair…”

It has been that way in the past and will continue in the future.

Could he have anticipated such a response from me? With a scornful laugh, he nodded.

“Humans can be so foolish at times. Even when they think they know themselves best, they can be ignorant enough to miss the most important facts.”

– Woong!

A massive amount of mana emanated from his hand.

“Prove it here and now. Whether the path you wish to take is truly one of salvation or of execution.”

Whatever he’s attempting, it doesn’t matter; he won’t escape from here.

Likewise, the cool touch of death will be a long and savored experience for him in this place…

– Boom!

Suddenly, a violent tremor erupted from the ground.

Startled, I glanced down, sensing a familiar energy emanating from below.

“Curious about what I intended to do with that large marionette puppet?”

In Boris’ hand was now a high-level dark magic circle drawn for casting.

“Underneath this Aexilium lies the body of a Devil Dragon, sealed and buried since the time of the ancient God-Demon War.”

Devil Dragon?

What nonsense was that?

“Isn’t it somewhat expected? Using marionette puppets of human size to merely animate a few human corpses doesn’t make sense. At least it should be done with a notorious behemoth-like demon to justify the worth.”

Who wouldn’t know that? Whatever you intended to command, the real question is, why is the body of that Devil Dragon you mentioned buried in this land?

A demonic beast summoned during the God-Demon War?

Neither in my one lifetime nor two have I ever heard such a story…

[Master, look under you!]

The instant Ceyram’s urgent cry resonated throughout my body, I instantly twisted and retreated backward.

– Bang!

In a close shave no more than a second long, something black that looked like a tail burst through the ground right where I had been standing and made contact with the world.

“The wrath of a dragon that has been dormant for hundreds of years is now making itself known to the world.”

* * *

In the subspace of the demonic sword enveloped by pitch-black mist, two figures stood facing each other in a standoff, each with a different look in their eyes.

The woman, annoyed to the point of biting her lip, contrasted the man, who was leisurely smiling at her as if nothing was wrong. Both of them presenting an image quite opposite to their previous encounters.

[It’s not your place to judge. You are quite a bizarre specimen yourself. This is why I dislike dealing with scribes.]

“What’s the harm? Just as you care for your master, I’ve only treated my own master with special attention.”

Hiscray seemed puzzled, simply shrugging his shoulders.

[Yeah, I wondered why you seemed so familiar. But what’s with those disgusting acts? Don’t you realize that if you get drunk on familiarity, you become useless in the end?]

“Such sentiments coming from you, someone who swaps masters like changing clothes: the idea of righteous harmony in the name of bright truth.”

[Enough with that truth… really tiresome.]

Ceyram clicked his tongue and shook his head in disapproval.

“It appears this will be our last meeting, as disappointing as that is. You may have used some schemes before, but this time it will be difficult. The ones above are quite prepared. But if you wish to leave your master’s side now, I won’t discourage you…”

[Shut it. I could split that mouth of yours into two if not for the self-control I’m barely maintaining.]

Ceyram sent out a warning oozing with killing intent, but Hiscray’s complacent smile remained unchanged.

“Then we shall meet again another time, Ceyram. It seems our time for peaceful conversations like this will come to an end…”

Hiscray’s last bittersweet farewell was silently met by Ceyram. With a flash of light, Hiscray disappeared from the space, leaving Ceyram alone in the silence, where rough and unprintable curses filled the air.

* * *

The sky, black as night, was enveloped by a red heat.

Sounds of collapsing buildings and the screams of people merged into a tragic harmony. Peaceful Aexilium had turned into a battlefield of chaos.

Unfamiliar with such unprecedented tragedy, people wailed. Knights only trembled with their weapons in hand, unable to muster the will to fight.

Could there be anyone who, faced with such a colossal demon, would be able to move?

With their grotesque appearance, making it hard to believe they were living creatures, some people were paralyzed, unable to even think of moving.


Nevertheless, the disaster’s entity, devoid of sanity and reason, did nothing but mindlessly destroy everything in its path.

“Ru-run away!”

The situation in the slums was no different.

Despair filled the faces of all, and some were desperately calling someone’s name, seeking salvation.

“Boris! Lord Boris! Where are you?”

Their cries remained unanswered, their savior nowhere to be found. Instead, great red fireballs flew from the sky towards them.

Moments away from facing a grisly tragedy, people fell to their knees, and a woman who had been frantically calling for help now looked at the approaching fireball with a vacant face as if she had relinquished everything.

Just before the last gleam of hope could fade away,

– Swish!

A sound sliced through the air, and the fireball aimed at them was split in half, disappearing into oblivion.


The people, believing their longed-for savior had appeared, cheered, but paradoxically, the person who entered their scope was not their savior.


With a chilling violet dagger in hand, emanating a fierce killing intent – it was a young man with black hair.

The ruthless executor arrived, denying that his actions were for salvation and insisting that he employed any means for his purpose.

(To be continued)


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