The Regressor Wants to Become a Hero

Chapter 107

Boom!

The thunderclap that struck the ears made Ian flinch, interrupting his gleeful swings of the black blade. Reflexively, his eyes darted to figure out what was happening.

A beam of light from the clear sky connected with the purple mist blanketing the ground.

Bellen.

The surging mana unmistakably belonged to her spell.

Flash—

A dazzling light burst forth again, painting the world, followed by successive bolts of lightning.

Boom!

It was an overwhelming display of mana. The sheer precision with which those devastating strikes landed on their intended target was proof enough of her prowess as a remarkable mage.

Though it was unclear who she was fighting inside the shroud of purple mist, it was evident she was struggling.

If she were to lose, the next target would undoubtedly be clear. This wasn’t the time for him to leisurely test out his newly acquired clairvoyance.

I’ve got a feel for it, Ian thought.

This would have to suffice for now. Ian turned his gaze toward the director of the laboratory. Encased in a dense stream of water like a shield, the director, too, couldn’t ignore the deafening rumble of the lightning, no different from Ian himself.

The director stared, mesmerized, at the lightning strikes as if witnessing a whole new world. Despite the mist obscuring the view, he seemed intent on capturing the flashes of lightning breaking through the veil and the flow of mana radiating outward.

Can’t blame him for that.

It’s not every day you witness the battle of beings with such power. Especially not out here, buried in a remote laboratory far from any renowned battlefield.

Ian swung his black blade toward the director. The slash, extending from the blade, struck the water shield, startling the director into turning back.

“What are you doing? It’s not over yet,” Ian said.

The director, Tagroa, scowled.

“Do you feel nothing after seeing all that?”

“Why wouldn’t I? It’s incredible, awe-inspiring, even chilling.”

He’d witnessed this scene countless times before his regression. Back then, he could neither see nor gain anything from it.

But now, he could see it. Too much, in fact, almost to the point of irritation. The details were so vivid he felt like he could pick them apart, one by one. He wanted to take his time and observe it all leisurely.

Yet, there was still something left to deal with, and he had no time to linger.

The director, however, seemed unwilling to let it go. His face bore an expression of incomprehension.

“And yet, you insist on clinging to this petty fight? Are you out of your mind?”

Ian let out a chuckle.

“So what, should we grab a drink and watch together?”

“That wouldn’t be the worst idea.”

The spectacle of magic unfolding before them was enough to ignite a fire in the director’s imagination. As a mage in pursuit of the truths of magic, even glimpsing fragments of this battle was an invaluable experience.

“Hah! What nonsense. Why would you and I, who’ve allied with outsiders, sit down for a drink together?”

“…This is a battle between transcendent beings. Just watching it is a treasure trove of knowledge. Are you really going to squander such a rare opportunity so easily?”

“Better to settle this fight first than waste time talking.”

The director sighed in frustration.

“…You’re right. I should’ve ended this sooner.”

“You think you can?”

“You’ll see. A warning: I’ll abandon all thoughts of using shallow tricks to win.”

Tagroa summoned his mana, intensifying the twin streams of water encircling him. The streams thickened, dividing into more streams, each taking on a pointed shape resembling an arrowhead. But to call them arrowheads was an understatement—they looked more like the sharpened ends of thick stakes, hewn from massive logs.

“If you can so clearly see where my attack is aimed and how it will unfold…”

[Hydromancy, Level 4]

[Forty-Eight Pillars of the Sea Temple]

Forty-eight stakes surged into the air. Ian looked up at the spectacle as the director’s voice rang in his ears like a proclamation.

“Then I’ll just make it so you can’t dodge!”

Swish! The stakes changed direction and plummeted.

Whoosh! Crash! Crack!

The stakes embedded themselves into the ground where Ian had stood moments ago, their weight and density enough to pierce through the rubble of collapsed buildings. Blocking such an attack head-on would be unwise.

Ian, who had been preparing to leap forward, had no choice but to retreat.

Crash!

A stake drove into the ground directly in front of him, its form unwavering.

Crash! Crack!

Everywhere he turned, stakes rained down, some even landing in places he had no intention of approaching. It was as if the stakes were cutting off his escape routes, creating the illusion of raising a forest of pillars.

It was obvious what his opponent, a master of hydromancy, was aiming for.

The director had made it clear.

He intended to turn this place into a sea.

And so, he was constructing the battlefield. Shaping it to his advantage, creating an environment in which he held the upper hand.

This was precisely what a mage should do. While such feats required immense mana, far beyond the capabilities of most, the principle was straightforward.

There was nothing surprising about it.

Ian gathered mana at his feet and charged forward. Spinning his black blade, he switched his grip to reverse and cleaved the incoming stakes in half.

The black blade was a cursed artifact that had even sliced through Bellen’s magic. As it severed the mana maintaining the stakes’ form, their fragments cascaded to the ground.

Watching this, Tagroa began chanting an incantation. With a gesture, a torrent of water surged toward Ian, and just as it closed in, the prepared spell activated.

[Hydromancy, Level 4]

[Goblin Droplets]

Boom!

The water column exploded, transforming into thousands—no, tens of thousands—of droplets that scattered like a storm of projectiles.

No matter how agile Ian had been in dodging the previous attacks, this one was unavoidable.

Leaping was out of the question, and there wasn’t enough time to sidestep.

Had he not been standing on the rubble, he might have used his explosive footwork to overturn the ground and create a barrier.

Slashing all the droplets with the black blade might work, but Ian had no intention of overexerting himself. There was an easier way.

Fwoosh—

Ian activated Bane of Evil.

However, something unexpected happened. He felt a strong repelling force.

Flick.

Like a candle being snuffed out, the power vanished.

“Huh?”

Ian was momentarily taken aback.

He had a hunch about the situation. It was likely due to the cursed sword in his grip and the dark mana coursing through his body, enhancing his physical strength.

If he forcibly ignited the flames, the black blade in his hand might sustain damage.

Making a swift decision, Ian stored the black blade back into his ring.

Fwoosh!

Violet flames erupted across his entire body, only to revert to their original hue moments later.

The dark mana had likely been completely consumed. The flames, radiating intense heat, enveloped Ian as though shielding his body.

[Bane of Evil: Sixth Form, Holy Flame Armor]

Pshh! Pshh!

The incoming droplets evaporated the instant they touched the fiery surface of his armor.

Sizzle!

Already weakened by the superheated air, the droplets felt no more harmful than raindrops pattering against him.

Breaking through the storm of countless water droplets, Ian saw Tagroa clearly.

Something felt off. The stakes he expected to rain down again were already embedded in the ground.

“So, you finally decided to unveil those flames?”

Tagroa spoke as if he had anticipated this from the beginning. Of course, having seen Ian enshrouded in fire earlier, he must have guessed.

As Ian took a step forward, a noise came from below. Something was escaping from beneath the rubble of the building.

“But it’s too late!”

Rumble!

The ground beneath Ian’s feet gave way, collapsing as if being devoured. Ian leaped with all his might, but it only bought him a brief moment.

Looking down, he saw an immense volume of water surging. To think Tagroa had secretly amassed such an overwhelming amount!

As if expecting Ian’s leap, Tagroa extended his palm and gestured upward.

[Hydromancy, Level 5]

[Constricting Underwater Prison]

Water surged up from the debris and the embedded stakes, trapping Ian in an encasing liquid prison.

“Got you! My victory, you arrogant bastard!”

Tagroa declared triumphantly, clenching his fist.

There was a reason he had entertained this drawn-out skirmish, allowing Ian to slip away like a slippery eel.

It had all been for this moment. No matter how agile Ian was, without footing, he could do nothing.

The rising waters coalesced around him, forming a massive sphere. Water from the ground surged upward, wrapping tightly around Ian.

Sizzle!

Steam rose as the intense heat from Ian’s body began evaporating the water, but could it possibly eliminate this much liquid?

“You’re not getting out of this,” Tagroa growled, his voice brimming with confidence.

And he wouldn’t allow Ian to. Trapping him wasn’t the endgame.

Just as Tagroa prepared to incant a spell to rotate the currents within the sphere, an unsettling chill crawled up his spine, forcing him to look up.

Screeeech!

A piercing metallic sound rang out as the massive sphere split apart. From within, a devastating slash erupted outward.

It was sharp, precise. The water streams shielding Tagroa surged to intercept it, only to be pierced through as well.

“What the…?”

The attack’s power had doubled in an instant, bypassing what had previously been impenetrable defenses.

Was he intentionally holding back his attacks earlier?

Taking a step back, Tagroa twisted his body desperately, as if grasping at straws.

A slash dug into his right arm.

Szzzt!

The wound’s edge seared hotly, yet the arm was not entirely severed. The miraculous elixir, born from the wisdom of the Outer World, was already coursing through his veins.

Though his physical abilities had reached superhuman levels, the fortification of his body left his arm barely hanging on instead of being completely destroyed.

“Ugh!”

A delayed surge of agony struck him. Yet, the pain signified that he was alive—a clear testament to the success of his experiment.

The shredded arm rapidly began regenerating. Charred flesh fell away, severed nerves reconnected, and sensation returned.

Tagroa laughed in relief, his voice rising hysterically.

“Ha, hahahahaha!”

If he hadn’t stepped back, he would be dead. If he hadn’t twisted his body, he’d be dead.

It was fortunate that it was his arm. Had it been his neck, even a superhuman body wouldn’t have saved him.

The fact that he avoided the blow was thanks to his drastically heightened reflexes and vision.

His joy momentarily eclipsed his pain. He licked his dry lips with his tongue. Dry?

‘That can’t be.’

The streams of water swirling around him had diminished. No, they were continuing to shrink.

It was hot. Why was it so unbearably hot? Tagroa realized that time itself seemed to be slowing for him.

His body didn’t move as he wished. Slowly turning his head, he saw the source of the heat standing before him.

A knight, clad in blazing flames that formed armor, swung a sword with devastating precision.

Tagroa narrowly evaded the trajectory of the blade as his eyes followed it, but only just. That wouldn’t last long.

“You’re dodging quite well,” came a mocking voice.

He had no energy to retort. He commanded the streams of water to move, but as soon as the flame-clad blade pierced through, they evaporated instantly.

He needed to draw moisture from the air, but the overwhelming heat had left none behind.

Even the water from the distant sphere was depleting rapidly.

“You think too much,” the voice sneered.

His entire body was being slashed apart—stabbed, cut, and shredded. The blood that gushed out evaporated in the intense heat, leaving his body parched and brittle.

No matter how enhanced his physique was, enduring this was impossible.

Slash!

“Gahhh!”

The dangling remnants of his arm were finally severed, followed by both of his legs. Within moments, he was reduced to a cripple, unable to move on his own.

Enduring the agony, Tagroa asked, “This is insane. How did you get out?”

There was no swimming within the water sphere, no footing to leverage.

The thought that Ian had escaped through the whirling currents was inconceivable.

Ian smirked.

“I kicked through the air. If I’d been even a little slower, I would’ve had a hard time getting out.”

To be honest, it was the first time Ian had ever been so flustered. Losing all footing wasn’t something one experienced often.

If he hadn’t mastered Bane of Evil after his regression, he might never have escaped.

“Ha,” Tagroa chuckled hollowly. Ian’s answer was unbelievable.

He wanted to call him a liar, but if Ian said so, he had no choice but to believe it.

“Why aren’t you killing me?”

“I’ve got questions of my own to ask,” Ian replied.

“More important than finishing off a superhuman opponent?”

“Probably so,” Ian replied with a slight smirk.

“You’re insane,” Tagroa spat back.

Ian looked down at Tagroa’s severed arms and legs, which were bubbling and sizzling as they attempted to regenerate.

Cellular division—a phenomenon that occurred when regenerative power was pushed to its peak.

Even though the wounds had been cauterized, the fact that they were still healing was remarkable. Left unchecked, Tagroa might actually regrow his lost limbs by feeding off his mana.

“If you cooperate, I might let you die while seeing what you want most.”

“In that case, ask your question quickly.”

“What’s the alias of the Outer God you made your deal with?”

———