The Regressed Son of a Duke is an Assassin chapter 37


The Regressed Son of a Duke is an Assassin Chapter 37

**Chapter 37: Followers of the Black Mist (1)**

“How do you find academy life?”

Despite the instructor’s lively question, the boy did not respond.

“I didn’t think it was such a difficult question, but you can’t seem to answer it. If you like it, say you like it; if not, say you dislike it. Just be honest.”

“It’s just so-so….”

The boy answered disinterestedly.

“Judging by your expression, it seems you want to finish this boring consultation quickly. I’m sorry, but I have no choice. The quarterly personal consultations with students are essential for an academy instructor, so it has to be done.”

I know that.

Even if she were the well-reputed instructor Silica, he knew that she wouldn’t sincerely care for someone reputed to be the incompetent of his family.

At that time, the boy was filled with very negative thoughts.

“To see such listlessness from the youngest of the House of Duke Vert, the guardian of the continent, it doesn’t look good. Kranz, your brother, seems to have adapted quite well. Why didn’t you ask him for help?”


She nonchalantly utters such cruel words, not ignorant of how that devil called a brother would treat him.

Overwhelmed with emotion, the boy clenched his fists tightly.

“I’m sorry. It was not my intention to enrage you, but it seems that I have inadvertently offended you.”

It felt more like mockery than an apology.

“I think that should be enough for now. There is no need for you to spend more of your precious time on me. I will take my leave.”

“What are you talking about? The conversation is just beginning.”

She stopped the boy as he tried to rise from his seat.

“To be honest, I’m very interested in you, Sian.”

“Are you referring to me?”

“Of course! How could I, as an instructor, not take an interest in a student with a record-breaking dark attribute of 84%?”

Up until then, the boy had thought that the instructor was merely mocking him.

“Isn’t it just a worthless attribute without any substance?”

“You say some dangerous things! Nothing in this world is worthless. Even a pebble lying on the roadside has its own value.”


The boy didn’t understand.

“Do you think your attribute is worthless? That’s possible. After all, there’s not much research available on the dark attribute yet. But do you know what that means? It means that there’s infinite potential yet to be discovered….”

These words might seem hollow at a glance, but to the still naïve eleven-year-old boy, he was quickly captivated by her rhetoric.

He had nobody around to say such things to him.

Additionally, he felt something different about Instructor Silica than usual.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because it’s natural for an instructor to wish for a student’s growth.”

To hope for growth.

The boy had been written off by his family after a sword-fighting duel with his brothers.

And now to hear once more the hope for growth, the boy found himself engulfed in complex emotions.

“I’ll be looking forward to your limitless growth, Sian~!”

Instructor Silica encouraged the boy with a cheerful smile. But until then, the boy didn’t know that the infinite growth she spoke of was not as an innocent student, but the development of a ruthless assassin…

* * *

The streets of Rowen at dusk were not different from any other city.

Walking and recalling the connection with her from his past life, he soon neared his destination.

Occasionally there were lights on, but the street was deserted.

There may be scholars researching magic where lights were on, merchants preparing for tomorrow’s market, or places lit up for no particular reason.

However, the place he and she reached was steeped in a creepy atmosphere, even without lights.

A chilling dampness soaked through his body.


Silica formed a small mana sphere in her hand and placed it on the doorknob.

The blue mana sphere turned black upon touching the doorknob and soon a metallic ‘clunk’ sound was heard.


“Go inside.”

She opened the door for me and directed me to enter first.


The moment I stepped inside, a sinister killing intent surged from the front.

I walked deeper without concern, and Silica remained silent, merely following me quietly.

Perhaps to prevent me from escaping, she was blocking the way out.

No knockout, no blindfolds to obstruct my vision.

She had simply brought me here without any restrictions.

Confident I could find my way back here later on my own.

Not because she trusted me.

Whatever her intentions, it was clear that she was here to end my existence in this place.

And it was also clear, as I walked forward and the killing intent around me grew thicker, that it wasn’t out of any good will.


Out of the pitch-black darkness, a sharp blade flew at me.

Dodging it with ease, more blades followed in quick succession from all directions.

I spun my body, creating a spiral of sword energy.


The created energy deflected all the blades, and they clattered helplessly to the floor.

Greenish, viscous liquid oozed from the blades.

“You’re not saying anything.”

She spoke to me.

Remaining silent even after disarming the trap meant that I knew it was there from the start.

“Is the ambush intended for the invaders too light?”

At the word ‘light,’ she gave a sardonic smile.

Then, I felt multiple killing intents rushing towards me at a terrifying speed.

Six assassins in total.

I didn’t wait; I lunged forward to meet them.

The six assassins, each armed with a pair of poison-coated daggers in their hands…


The leading assassin swung his sword at me.

I ducked lightly to dodge and then swung my sword at the two assassins following behind.


Unable to withstand the blows, the assassins dropped their daggers, and I struck their abdomens with my fists, knocking them unconscious.


The remaining three assassins hesitated in surprise.

A moment’s hesitation was like suicide for an assassin.

I mercilessly attacked them, not with the blade, but with the hilt of my sword.


They fell lifelessly, and just as I turned my back, the lead assassin who had missed earlier charged at me again.


His bravely crossed blades were effortlessly stopped by the tip of Ceyram’s sword.


My clenched fist struck his abdomen, and the six assassins collapsed, unable to have mounted a proper attack.


Silica watched the whole scene but didn’t say anything.

I, too, continued on the path without asking any questions.

After about five minutes…

The narrow corridor suddenly opened into a spacious plaza.

Without hesitation, I moved forward and upon reaching the center of the plaza…

-Pop! Pop! Pop!

From four directions – east, west, south, north – assassins with a more intense killing intent than before rushed towards me.

The difference this time: they were not armed with daggers, but scimitars with curved blades like crescent moons.

They moved at the exact same speed and assumed different postures as if to execute a predetermined formation.

The Formation of the Dead Angle.

One of Mist’s secret techniques creating an inescapable angle of death to divide the opponent’s body into four.

It was a skill that required selecting members from Mist with fast reflexes and innate talent, honed through intensive training, only executable by senior assassins.

This meant that the members seen before were of a completely different level.

Silica stayed back, observing how I would deal with the situation.

Despite the escalating threat, I remained calm and waited until they got close.


Right when the curved blades aimed to slice my abdomen, a powerful red pulse surged from under my feet.



The wave engulfed all four assassins simultaneously, disrupting the formation of the dead angle before it could be completed.


Thrown by the pulse, some of the assassins dropped their swords.

They hastily regained their composure and repositioned themselves, but the wrists holding the swords trembled, a different appearance from earlier.


With that, Silica, observing silently, gestured to stop.

The assassins obeyed the order and cleared the way without a word.

She asked me, “Did you use the Pulse of Killing Intent?”

The Pulse of Killing Intent.

An assassin’s unique skill manifesting the murderous intent to kill, projecting it outwards.

Approaching with half-hearted killing intent, they would be repelled without even touching and would lose their will to fight, a technique to subdue the enemy without swinging a sword.

This technique, unlike others named ‘Shadowless’ from Mist, was directly imparted to me by the head in my previous life.

“It was not defined as a technique, but it’s a good name. I’ll refer to it as such from now on.”

I replied with a nonchalant smile.


For a brief moment, I could sense her lips curving into a smile.

Five more minutes down the corridor, amidst swirling wind, I could sense a killing intent far different from the ones faced before.

Soon, at the end of the corridor, two assassins appeared.

They were not armed with daggers or scimitars.

Their hands held claw-shaped gloves resembling sharp animal claws, “Claws.”

Some high-class knights say that swords are not for overpowering the enemy but for protecting oneself and others from danger.

But not those weapons.

They exist solely for harming and killing.

Designed to bring maximal pain to the target, not just to silently kill with minimal effort.

Moreover, they were weapons only usable by the leaders of Mist, not ordinary or even senior members.

These two were not mere members; they were experts with vast assassination experience, just beneath the leader in ranking skills.


Without delay, the two locked eyes with me and charged with great speed.

The claws gleamed with light and mist, as if ready to use mana and secret techniques.

As a response, I gripped my sword tighter, awakening the dormant power of the mist.


Like a dragon exhaling breath, mist poured from my mouth and soon enveloped my whole body.

A skill that a year ago relied on the power of Ceyram, but now, having consumed the blood of beastkin and undergone rigorous training, I could freely use the Mist Sword technique without the power of the magic sword.

I murmured to the assassins racing towards me like arrows, “Mist Sword: The Firm Beam of…!”


Just as I was about to finish the chant, my hurriedly raised sword met not a claw, but a dark mist-wrapped blood dagger.

It was the leader’s dagger.

“I can’t take it anymore!”

She exclaimed with a rising frenzy, unlike the impassive demeanor previously shown.

“Show me your real power! Sian Vert!”

Her eyes shone with ecstasy, not killing intent, as if genuinely delighted.

(Continue in the next episode)


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *