The Regressed Son of a Duke is an Assassin chapter 217


The Regressed Son of a Duke is an Assassin

Chapter 217: For a New Order (3)

“I’m sorry…….”

Following the call of my name, Kellin immediately conveyed words of apology to me.

Sorry, sorry.

Honestly, I never expected to hear those words first from his mouth.

I thought I’d be met with a complaint, or an accusation as to why I’d only now arrived.

Well, it was evidence that the personality I had implanted in the shadow had survived well.

“Due to my inadequacy, Sir Sian’s true identity was exposed.”

It’d happened quite some time ago, laughing about questioning it now,

Yet surviving without exposure up to seven years later, that wasn’t something to overlook.

They still had something to gain from Kellin, it seemed.

“Since when have you been like this?”

“I regretfully cannot remember clearly. Perhaps it’s not been many years…….”

I gently laid my hand on his sweat-and-blood-mixed head.

Then, closing my eyes tightly, I transferred mana.

It was almost as if I had massaged his brain.

Perhaps there were traces of mental torture left to find any remnants of me in him.

A normal person’s personality would have long since collapsed and become useless.

Only because it was a high-grade magical personality, had it managed to hold on this long.

Sympathy? Not at all.

This puppet was made simply to be manipulated to my liking from the beginning.

There was no room for feelings like affection for such a being.

Had I not instilled personality in him, it’s safe to say he would have sided with those who created this space to screw me over.

Sympathy for that kind of guy,

I haven’t become so mellowed out yet.

“Be careful, Sir. They believe they cannot handle you with their power alone. That’s why they are preparing a completely new existence to oppose you.”

“What is that?”

“Sorry. I do not know too much beyond…….”

“Anything else you’d like to say?”

Silenced by my stern questioning, he struggled to continue.

“I’m really grateful that you appeared now.”


As if it were his last will, I beheaded Kellin right then and there.

Was it to ease his pain?

Leaving him be would only result in his being manipulated to their liking.

Perhaps he would have thought so.

Honestly, it was more out of sheer bother to manage any longer. I just killed him.

It wasn’t anything particularly pleasant, so there was no need to keep it alive.

-Thud, thud

I heard unfamiliar footsteps coming from the direction of the entrance.

Not many, just one person.

The steps weren’t heavy nor light.

Approaching toward me, the footsteps halted exactly at the doorway.

Seeing me between the open door gap, the person stopped.

I thought there would be hesitation, but then they stepped in again.

Since I had no intention to hide, I turned my head to face them.


Black hair, a short haircut, vague eyes, a delicate figure.

About my age, or maybe a year or two younger.

At first glance, one might mistake her for a boy, but she’s female.

Her face was fraught with yin energy.

Anyone who wasn’t a fool could notice at a single second glance what had transpired in this room, but without panic, she seemed unfazed.

“Did you kill Kellin?”

Without answering, I looked at the tray she held.

A slice of bread and a cup of water.

Clearly she’d come to provide sustenance, or, to prolong his life.

“Are you an assassin?”

Even after her continuous probing, I remained silent.

Curious about her reaction, I quietly waited.


After setting down the tray and just staring blankly for a few minutes.

“What are you doing?”

Unable to see more, I asked.

“Standing still?”


“I thought you were going to kill me. It didn’t seem likely to run away.”

Doesn’t look like a servant of the palace, nor a knight, definitely not a noble either.

Moving freely in the palace’s clandestine spaces, even bringing food?

There was a suspicious smell, keenly irritating my senses.

“Kellin’s face. It looks at ease now.”

She suddenly mentioned Kellin’s severed head.

“He always looked in pain. And yet, he didn’t utter any complaints. I found it pitiful and you’ve liberated him.”

She pointed out one of my least favorite notions.

“If you’re not an assassin, then are you perhaps a knight of liberation?”

What a pointless joke. Enough observation.

I had no intention of wasting time with questions such as her name or purpose for being here.

As I was about to grab her hair and drag her out,


My hand shook abruptly.

To be precise, my right hand.

Even more precisely, from the firmly grasped Ceyram, there came a strong vibration.

Checking if Ceyram was trying to manifest physically,


Not even a voice came from Ceyram, let alone mist.

Regardless of Ceyram’s consciousness, the demonic sword itself felt something and reacted against it.

“Is that a demonic sword?”

My gaze returned to her.

“The demonic sword Ceyram, said to inherit the power of the god of black mist, Aer.”

Her expression remained flat as she spoke.

“Seeing that you hold it, you must be that Sian Vert.”

To say she hit the nail on the head would be to assume too little evidence.

This was someone deducing based on information received about me.

Kellin’s last words before his death flicked through my mind.

They were preparing a completely new entity to stand against me, weren’t they?

I expected mere puppets, but it seems they were crafting a more special doll this time.

“Your name, what is it?”

I asked her, maintaining a stern expression.

Without any indication of being perturbed, she opened her mouth calmly.


“Mia Hapencus.”

Should I feel relieved or more worried?

As Condor Principal said,

Right before his retirement, a student with the name Hapencus transferred to the academy.

And now that girl,

“Do you know me?”

Here she was, right in front of me.

* * *

After the unilateral declaration named a meeting concluded, Violet, Aschel, Boris, and Arin gathered again in the Second Princess’s room.

“Great work out there, Sir Aschel.”

“It’s not me who’s worked hard but the princesses. I am particularly grateful to Princess Arin. You truly were impressive.”

“It was merely my duty.”

Arin downplayed her significant role.

“The power of the Holy Sword influences the entire empire, how reassuring. Who would dare refuse the power of the Holy Sword?” Violet commented with a sense of self-satisfaction.

“Regrettably, there was one place.”

Boris interjected, changing the room’s mood.

“What do you mean?”

“Among the twenty families that attended the meeting, it was only the Nigrity Count’s house that did not wish to receive the power.”

“Are you referring to Silica?”

Arin showed her surprise, flashing her eyes.

“Why did they refuse?”

Ignoring Arin’s question, Violet’s eyes narrowed inquisitively.

“They claimed they lacked a capable talent to inherit the power.”

Violet instantly realized it was an excuse to escape the situation.

“There’s always someone who doubts a perfect gem. No need to worry too much about it.”

Boris tried to dampen the somewhat intense atmosphere, making it seem a minor issue.

“Well, let me excuse myself for a moment. There’s something I need to do.”

He soon left the room alone.

Violet turned to Aschel, slightly annoyed.

“I’ve wanted to ask before, wasn’t Boris originally with your brother? Since when has he been following you, Sir Aschel?”

With the unseen prowess of an 8-star, the ability to effortlessly tackle any task, and enigmatic strategy—to behold him was as if he was a divine talent.

When did the man chosen by Prince Luinel begin to follow Aschel?

Arin too always wondered this.

Aschel responded with a modest smile.

“They say destiny is orchestrated by the gods. I guess we both recognized right at our first meeting what we could do for each other.”

“So, was it like a twist of fate?”

“It’s akin to the situation when I chose you as a princess from Belias.”

“Not too convincing, but I’ll leave it at that.”

Although Violet held her doubts, she didn’t press further.

As the remaining three began discussing their next steps, Boris had exited the room and descended into the palace’s underground corridors, illuminated by gloomy torchlight.

Boris paused in front of a particular room.


He was about to grab the doorknob when he hesitated, feeling an unusual energy from beyond the door.

He then quickly flung the door open.

A putrid smell of blood wrinkled his brows.

On the floor lay Kellin’s head, and standing idly by was Mia, who noticed Boris’s entrance but remained silent, just gazing at Kellin’s severed head.

Watching her, Boris asked cautiously.

“What happened here, Mia?”

“He came here.”

“Who might that be?”

“Sir Boris, you’ve always told us about the owner of the demonic sword, Sian Vert.”

Boris wore an ambiguous expression, neither smiling nor showing confusion.

“Did he kill Kellin?”

“Yes. I was going to give him his meal and torture him as usual, but since he died like this, I didn’t know what to do so I simply stood by.”

A hint of disappointment lingered in her indifferent gaze.

“Where did he go?”

“I don’t know. I thought he was going to kill me, but he just asked my name and then vanished.”

Upon her words, Boris scanned for any nearby presences.

Luckily or not, no immediate signs of murderous or bloodthirsty energy were detected.

“Before he went, he told me to pass a message to the next person he meets.”

“What did he… say?”

Mia turned her attention from Kellin’s head to Boris.

“Quit, throwing a fit…….”

(To be continued)


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