The Regressed Son of a Duke is an Assassin chapter 227


The Regressed Son of a Duke is an Assassin

Chapter 227: The Day of Revision (6)

Since when did it begin? I couldn’t quite recall.

The same dream visited me every night.

A burning village, with piercing screams spreading in all directions,

at the village center a man, name unknown, was indiscriminately swinging a dagger at people.

Behind the man, a woman with black, flowing hair and blood red eyes wore a cruel smile – as if she was controlling him.

Whether this place was reality or hell, it was hard to tell, but to Mia Hapencus, this scene was all too familiar.

After all, everything is shocking only the first time.

Even the most horrific and tragic scenes become familiar with repetition.

For her, these nightmares had transformed from fear to curiosity.

Who were these people that tormented her in her dreams every night?

As this question deepened, a man appeared.

He introduced himself as Boris and claimed he would reveal the truth behind her recurring dreams.

He said they were the cries of the Hapencus bloodline, hoping she would resolve their unfulfilled grudges.

Mia asked what she needed to do to resolve these grudges.

Smiling, Boris answered she had to kill the owner of the cursed sword and the sword itself.

To accomplish this, she needed to acquire the power of a similar cursed sword.

Extending his hand, Boris made an offer,

and Mia took it.

Years passed.

Now, in front of her stood the current owner of the cursed sword and the spirit of the sword itself.

‘Is that the spirit of the cursed sword Ceyram?’

Encountering the entity of Ceyram for the first time, Mia felt a strange sensation.

The sword in her hand also trembled.

Was it reacting to the aura of its original form?

It felt like she would be drawn to it any moment if she failed to control herself.

Nevertheless, she didn’t care.

The ones before her eyes needed to be killed to resolve the deep-seated wishes of her bloodline – nothing more, nothing less.

Hadn’t she been rushing towards this moment for years?

Gripping her sword firmly, Mia lunged at Sian again.

– Clang!

Sian deflected her strike without difficulty.

Unperturbed, Mia swung her sword continuously in all directions.


Sian countered them effortlessly.

“You, where did you learn to use a sword?”

“I never learned,” Mia retorted sharply, continuing her assault without pause.

Her answer was the truth.

Mia had never been formally trained in swordsmanship, not before being taken in by Boris, nor afterwards.

Occasionally, after receiving rituals from Boris, she began to experience unfamiliar sensations regarding the sword.

Boris explained that these sensations were ancestral, belonging to Dio Hapencus, the sword’s previous owner.

Despite wondering how it was possible to inherit the senses of the deceased, she never asked.

All she desired was to be freed from the nightmares, wishing for the crying souls to escape their pit of grudges and rest peacefully.

Yet, despite inheriting her ancestor’s senses, Sian easily parried her attacks, as if he could foresee her movements.

Realizing she could not kill him with sword clashes alone, Mia created distance and called upon the sword’s power.

“Cursed Sword Manifestation…”

* * *

It’s fascinating to see all the things one encounters in life.

How did those who witnessed me manifesting the cursed sword feel?

If it had been a mere imitation, I would have laughed it off.

But it wasn’t.

The power she manifested was nearly identical to mine when I wielded the cursed sword.

A black mist rose visibly from the sword’s tip, flaunting its power.


To my surprise – and perhaps even more so for Ceyram – she merely sniffed in disbelief at the sight.

Something felt off, so I scrutinized. Behind her, as she manifested the mist, a strange shadow flickered.

The face was difficult to discern – simply a man with long black hair.

A figure I knew nothing about.

“Do you recognize them?”


I asked Ceyram, thinking perhaps she might know. Instead of responding, she bit her lip, showing her displeasure.

From her reaction, I gathered the gist without further explanation.

“Is it the soul of your former owner?”

[Absolutely not! I devoured his soul so there wouldn’t be a trace left. There can’t be any spirit left!]

She vehemently denied the possibility.

Then it must be an apparition resembling the exterior, controlling the power of the replicated cursed sword.

I’m not one for overthinking or worrying, so I responded in kind, holding out my blade and whispering.

“Phantom Technique 9: Cursed Sword Manifestation…”

Simultaneously as the mist released from the blade, Ceyram, in the midst of materializing, joined with my inner self.

With preparations complete, I launched forward without hesitation.

She too, wrapped in mist, braced herself without stepping back.

– Clang!

The feeling of experiencing another cursed sword’s power was truly astounding.

It was familiar yet foreign – an intriguing sensation.

– Creak

The blades met, and hers pushed mine back slightly.

Though a minor difference, she had pushed back the power I had honed countless times.

The strength of the mist from her blade wasn’t ordinary.

Not just a simple copy.

This was a force that could truly kill me, a reminder of death’s shadow I hadn’t felt in a long time.


Nevertheless, my gaze kept returning to the apparition standing behind her.

The apparition, sensing my gaze, looked back with hollow eyes devoid of pupils.

Dio Hapencus.

Follower of the ancient Aer and former owner of Ceyram, he had lost both body and soul to the overpowering cursed sword – a fate tragic for any cursed sword’s owner.

I felt neither pity nor unease.

That apparition represented a potential future anyone wielded by the cursed sword might face.

I, too, could end up that way.

“Why did you eat him?”


Mia, caught off guard by the sudden question, furrowed her brows.

But my question wasn’t for her; it was aimed at Ceyram within me.

[Is this really the time for such questions?]

I wanted to know why.

Even if consuming the owner’s soul to obtain their power was the nature of the cursed sword, Ceyram wasn’t the kind to consume her owner even at the brink of death.

Why do I think so?

Nothing significant – it’s just my intuition from sharing emotions and sensations over the past years.

Haven’t I mentioned it before? We humans are creatures modeled after the gods.

Even She, a relic of the god, must possess emotions like us.

So not just me, but she must have felt fondness for her former owner, Dio.

She wouldn’t have consumed him so hastily on mere instinct.

Ceyram sighed with discomfort, then reluctantly began to speak.

[He asked me to. He wanted me to devour his soul and go on a rampage. Pleading desperately for me to do so.]

“So you granted his request?”

[Why would I refuse? I’m not kind enough to follow an owner who’s lost not only their sanity but even their will. So I did as he wished. No matter how harsh and merciless I might be…]

Ceyram trailed off.

[At least, I’m not devoid of all compassion to ignore a final request.]

Perhaps it was best to leave that unsaid.

I turned my attention back to Mia – not Dio.

“So, this sword is the enemy that destroyed your ancestors?”


“Have you ever considered the reasons this sword had no choice but to destroy them?”

“What are you implying?”

“There must have been a reason.”

With self-answered questions, I pushed back her sword.

She regained her balance quickly from the forced retreat, but my hand was already ready for the next strike.

A slashing strike that seemed to cut through space itself.

But it wasn’t Mia I had struck; it was the apparition of Dio Hapencus behind her.

“Mist Sword: Slashing the Apparition.”

What is an apparition?

Anything that doesn’t exist yet appears to.

Like the form I see now, sometimes people witness apparitions that don’t exist in reality.

Sometimes, we are so captivated by these apparitions that they impact us more than reality.

But chasing after such non-existent apparitions can never bring anything good.

The one thing to dispel them is the reality of what truly exists.

Only one honest and correct strike is needed to remove all apparitions.

Just as now.

– Swish!

Unlike the previous Mist Sword techniques, no power of the mist was embedded in this strike.

In essence, it was just a plain horizontal slash.

– Swoosh

The apparition of Dio Hapencus reacted violently to the single strike, thrashing about.


Then I saw it – right before it vanished, turning to dust:

A faint smile on the lips of the disintegrating apparition.

With that smile, the apparition disappeared completely before my eyes.

– Thud

With the loss of the apparition that was the source of power, Mia collapsed to her knees.

The mist still rose from her sword, but she seemed to have lost the will to fight.

Still, I cautiously approached to make sure, lifting her head to meet her eyes – a face filled with resigned loss.

I considered interrogating her about the matter, but the futility of it made me let go and stand up.

“Did you say I should consider the reasons why my ancestors had to be destroyed?”

She suddenly spoke.

“I had no time to think of such things. They would come to me every night and cry out, without any reason or explanation…”

Without an answer to give, I remained silent.

“You’d better hurry…”

“Hurry where?”

“On my way here, I encountered Princess Arin.”

I involuntarily tensed my brows.

“I passed by since I was here for you. But it seems that Aschel was not so indifferent. If you are meant to protect that princess, you should hurry.”

My tense brows deepened into a frown.

“Otherwise, you might never see that princess you knew again.”

Exactly 3 seconds later.


I walked past her and out of the library at a steady pace.

Mia, the family head, neither restrained me nor tried to hold me back.

To put it plainly, my immediate emotion wasn’t the urgency to rescue Princess Arin,

but rather the overwhelming anticipation of soon seeing the twisted face of some nefarious demon.

* * *

So Sian left the library,

but with nowhere else to go, Mia just sat there, staring blankly at the ground.

“Perhaps, it’s our fault for neglecting you.”

Silica approached the sitting Mia.

“You are an embodiment of the ideologies and traditions of those who once followed the ancient Aer. Your justice holds great value for us, the Mist and its heirs.”

Silica gently offered a hand to seated Mia.

Mia silently stared at the hand for a while.

“Teacher Boris never spoke of a future like this.”


“He even said there’ll be no scenario where I send the owner of the cursed sword to Lord Aschel. But somehow, the future he spoke of has completely changed.”

A future with Silica, extending a hand, did not exist in Boris’s prophecies.

“What am I supposed to do in this changed future?”

“Nothing much.”

Silica locked eyes with Mia and whispered secretly.

“Just stay by Sian’s side in my stead.”

(To be continued)


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