The Regressed Son of a Duke is an Assassin chapter 189


The Regressed Son of a Duke is an Assassin

Chapter 189: Fate Layered with Coincidence (1)

(The Almighty God of Light chastises your sins, and if you confess your sins to Him, you shall finally reach salvation…)

Individually, the words were all familiar,

But strung together in such an oddly bizarre fashion, they made no sense at all.

It’s probably just a pompous attempt to reform me by bombarding me with lofty language.

Rather than feeling inspired, it didn’t provoke any reaction in me.

Instead, I was more clearly hearing the voice of that simple-minded, if not slightly dopey, elf lady –

“Wake up, Sir Sian! You mustn’t sleep here, you’ll catch a chill! You should sleep comfortably in a proper place!”

She seemed to be babbling whatever crossed her mind in her eagerness to wake me.

It was pitiful just to listen to her.



“It’s giving me a headache.”

With those words, I snapped out of it.

The moment I looked up, I met the bewildered eyes of Hastia staring back at me,

But only for a brief moment,

Soon, my gaze shifted downward to the saintess who was looking up at me with a gaze filled with distrust and condemnation.

Without hesitating for a second, I drew the blade Ceyram and charged at her.

“The sanctified judgment of the holy light…”

– Click!

I firmly grasped the saintess’s hand that was trying to cast her magic.

“Assassination Technique No. 6: The Misty Void.”

As a token of my gratitude for this tedious attempt at reformation, I thought I’d gift her something meaningful as well,

A torment more painful than falling into a fiery pit of hell.


A mist shot from my fingertips like beams of light, soon enveloping the space around me and the saintess in warmth.

Before long, a colorless void bereft of light was completed, and the expression on the saintess’s face was so amusing that I couldn’t help but grin.

* * *

Having been in a space saturated with blinding light, the moment Hastia was engulfed by the strange mist emanating from Sian, she found herself transported into an unknown void wrapped in black mist.

“Where is this?”

Unfamiliar with such an atmosphere, Hastia’s eyes couldn’t settle.

The situation was just as disconcerting for Nephrodite.

“This, is this a divine subspace? Impossible! How can this be done?”

Unlike Hastia, she seemed to recognize what kind of space they were in.

A space not merely created by the force of the mist, but one imbued with divine power.

How did one perfectly craft such an absolute space, something no ordinary human could ever emulate?

Nephrodite’s gaze swiftly moved to the owner of the space, a couple of yards away.


And soon she understood.

The sight of the black-haired assassin holding a purple dagger, and behind him, a woman with a sinister smile of fascination, made it clear who they were.

“A, a demonic sword?”

A follower of the black mist and the bearer of a demonic sword,

On this earth, there was only one who could enact such an ability.

“I see. So you’re Sian Vert, the successor to the black mist. Now I understand.”

Nephrodite nodded her head, almost mockingly, with an odd smile that was somewhere between sarcasm and sincerity.

“Has it been seven years? Have you grown weary of being called ‘the devil with black hair’? Or perhaps, is the day of the prophecy drawing near?”

Sian offered no particular reaction.

“I don’t know what relation you have with the key, but this much should be known to you. This situation is purely a consequence of your own making…”

Sian’s brow furrowed slightly at that.

“Your gaze suggests you don’t understand. But no matter. You will soon come to know the truth. All of this is because of Lord Lumen Del’s…”

“Hey, saintess.”

Sian finally opened his lips which had been sealed shut.

For a moment, there was an evident sense of unwillingness to hear what she had to say further, as he gently closed his eyes.

“Rather than expounding on unnecessary words, shouldn’t one take the best possible action right now? Do I need to teach you even that?”

At his statement, Nephrodite’s pupils trembled.

Then, as if consenting to his words, she spread her hands and released a great amount of mana.

“Let the radiant light of guidance brighten the darkness!”

As she lifted a sphere of light over her head, the guiding light beaming from it brightly illuminated the ignorant darkness.


Seemingly enraptured by the warm feeling, the saintess smiled in relief.


– Thud

The light sphere quickly fell dim and crashed to the ground.


The mocking laughter that followed was merely an addition.

With the light extinguished, darkness once again enveloped their surroundings, and despair contorted Nephrodite’s face once more.

“Isn’t it too early to look so defeated? That brief flash of light is the best you can do?”

Confronted with unprecedented mockery and humiliation, she trembled with anger.

“I am the messenger of the most exalted God of Light, Lumen Del! Thus, to insult me is to insult Lumen Del Himself! There will be no rest for you who have disrespected divine authority! All of this is a situation you invited…”

As she lost her composure in fury, her body suddenly stiffened as if petrified by magic.

“Wh- my power?”

As if a volcano ready to erupt, mana that had been surging within her suddenly vanished like a snuffed candle.

Confronted with the unexpected, she tried to draw forth her mana again,


But there was no force that could be called mana left within her.

She realized she was facing a despairing situation where she was completely powerless.

“Ha ha!”

Emitting a bewildering laugh as if gone mad, Nephrodite continued.

“Fitting for a heretic bent on undermining the order of light! What will you do now? Do you plan to administer indescribable pain to me?”


“It’s unfortunate for you, but you won’t be able to! I have the protection of the omnipotent Lumen Del on me! No evil being can bestow despair upon me!”

Whether it was a final trick up her sleeve or just baseless bravado, Nephrodite stood defiantly, arms spread wide, as if daring Sian to come at her.

Sian, unimpressed, slowly approached her.

One step, then another.

In the darkness of ignorance, the shadow of despair gradually crept closer to her.

Reaching her side, Sian slowly lifted his hand and firmly grasped her chin, which was graced with a spreading smile.


Noticing something odd, she cocked her head in surprise.

“Did you mention Lumen Del’s protection?”


“It seems that god has abandoned you.”

“What are you talking about?”

Sian’s gaze finally turned to Hastia, who was observing from a corner of the space.

Around her lingered a light blue aura of protection.

In contrast, around Nephrodite,

“If that weren’t the case, it wouldn’t make sense that I could lay my hands on you while you’re under godly protection…”

There was nothing.

No light, only the mist released by Sian encroaching further.

There was no sign of any protection that might shield her.

“I’ll give you a minute. Beg that vaunted god to save you from this moment of despair. If that god hasn’t abandoned you, he won’t let you die like this…”

As Sian placed the cold edge of his demonic sword against her throat,

Nephrodite, with a mix of hope or maybe despair, was forced to silently accept the whispers of someone who declared himself a devil.

* * *

Engaged in battle with the intensity that only one’s death would end it, Garnian and Mihan finally glanced over when they saw their protectees swallowed by black mist.


Although they wanted to rush in immediately, neither moved.

It was as if their feet were rooted in place by the foreign aura seeping from the strange mist.

For minutes, they simply stared blankly at the scene.


The misty space confining the saintess and Hastia dissipated with a sound like the wind, revealing their figures.



Without a moment’s delay, each dashed to aid their master.

“Hastia, are you okay?”

‘Ga, Garnian?!’

Caught off guard, Hastia blinked in surprise.

She seemed uninjured, thankfully unscathed.

In contrast, the saintess,

“Saintess! Saintess, come to your senses!”

For some reason, as if she had sustained a severe shock,

Despite her eyes open, her vacant gaze couldn’t focus.

Mihan’s gaze quickly shifted to the black-haired assassin still standing atop the dais, looking down upon them.

“How dare you lay hands on the saintess…!”

His eyes were noticeably different than before, now a clear sign that his rationality was lost.

After gently laying the saintess down, Mihan charged at Sian.

There’s something initiates learn first when they pick up a sword as they begin in the Order of Knights:

Never let anger guide you when you wield a sword.

While anger might grant a momentary surge of strength, the absence of rational thought diminishes one’s capacity to see reason, typically leading to adverse outcomes.

Mihan Haselrus of the Order of the Light, a senior knight,

A man who commanded sheer respect and admiration, indeed at the pinnacle of knighthood.

He knew the aforementioned principle all too well but,

“Don’t expect an easy death!”

Engulfed by rage and murderous intent, he had forgotten all such logic.

What awaited a knight who had forsaken that simple principle was,


A cold and realistic outcome.

A second before, Sian, who had been on the altar, was now suddenly below it.

In his place,


Mihan’s body, torn into eight pieces, lay sprawled lifelessly.

“Don’t look, Hastia!”

Witnessing the horrific sight, Garnian quickly shielded Hastia’s view.

However, Hastia’s eyes were focused not on the corpse, but solely on Sian.

After sheathing his blade, Sian turned his gaze to the two still standing, his indifferent expression unchanged.

‘Are you okay, Sir Sian?’

Trying to break the tension, Hastia reached out with her thoughts once more.

Sian responded with a slight snort and curl of his lip in lieu of an answer.

Uncertain of his actions, Hastia blinked in bewilderment.

At least she made an attempt to communicate;

Garnian couldn’t even muster a word, his lips chapping and saliva unable to swallow.

Pressed by the extraordinary aura exuding from Sian’s slender figure, he appeared completely subdued.

-Tap tap tap

Suddenly, the sound of unfamiliar footsteps caught the elves’ attention, and they turned toward the door.

Not just one person, but many.

The situation didn’t seem promising, as if those arriving were unlikely to be friendly.

‘Someone’s coming! What will you do, Sir Sian…?’

Before she could finish, Hastia was struck silent upon seeing Sian.

Was it because?

For the first time, Sian’s usually stoic eyes were…



Though subtle, they were undeniably trembling,

As if sensing the approach of someone he must not meet.

Just as Hastia was grappling with the inexplicable situation, she heard someone’s desperate call.

“Lunev! You’re in danger if you go alone!”

(To be continued…)


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