Regressor Of The Fallen Family [EN]: Chapter 231

Talking to Rick, even though I didn’t say much, filled my mind with worries. And Rick wasn’t the only one making my thoughts confused.

“No problems, sir,” a knight said. “Good work, sir!” another added. As Logan left the small, busy communication room, nodding to the knights, he saw a familiar face. It was someone he hadn’t seen in a long time.

“Sir Heinkel?” Logan asked, surprised.

“Young Lord,” Heinkel replied. “I was looking for you. It’s about where the soldiers are living.”

“Soldiers’ quarters?” Logan repeated.

“Yes,” Heinkel said. “We are using houses taken from nobles and old army buildings. But it’s not working well. It’s not organized, and…”

Logan watched Heinkel. Heinkel was talking quickly, his eyes bright with energy as he spoke about the soldiers. He was so loyal, having given his whole life to Logan’s family. He had even lost his magical power and his right arm serving them. Logan felt a mix of thanks and sadness seeing Heinkel so eager to help, even after all he had been through.

Heinkel seemed to notice Logan staring. He chuckled and patted where his right arm used to be.

“I’m used to it now,” Heinkel said. “If you keep looking like that, I’ll get shy.”

Logan knew it was not polite to keep feeling sorry for such a strong and kind man. He smiled a little and nodded.

“Ah, sorry,” Logan said. “Yes, please take care of the soldiers’ quarters as you think best.”

“Thank you, Young Lord.”

Gratitude, Logan thought. Heinkel’s loyalty was truly amazing. He felt a sudden urge to express his thanks. Without thinking, Logan said, “Actually, I should be thanking *you*.”

“Yes?” Heinkel looked surprised.

“I mean,” Logan continued, “please remember that I and my family are always grateful for everything you do.”

“Haha,” Heinkel chuckled. “You are too kind. I am happy as I am. Being a knight is not the only way to have a good life.”

“I know that,” Logan said, his voice softer. “But you still lost so much.”

“…Yes,” Heinkel said, his voice becoming quieter. “The sadness and emptiness I felt then… it’s hard to explain. It felt like my whole life, everything I knew, had been destroyed.”

“…It must have been,” Logan murmured, understanding Heinkel’s pain.

“But,” Heinkel continued, his voice becoming brighter again, “when I looked around, I saw many other ways to live. I am content now. In fact, I am more worried about you, Young Lord.”

“About me?” Logan asked, surprised. He hadn’t expected this. He felt a little uneasy as Heinkel spoke again.

“Don’t you only see one path too, Young Lord?” Heinkel asked gently. “You take risks that others think are crazy, just to reach your goals.”

Logan was silent.

“To me,” Heinkel went on, “it seems like you believe there is only one way, just like I used to. You’ve been lucky and succeeded so far. But you look like you are walking on thin ice, as if one mistake could destroy everything.”

Logan couldn’t ignore Heinkel’s words. They hit too close to home. He knew Heinkel was right. Since he had gone back in time, he had taken huge risks, gambles really. If even one had failed, he would have lost everything.

*But what else could I have done?* he thought, trying to defend himself. *It was the only way.* But even as he thought this, he felt guilty. Heinkel, the man standing in front of him, had suffered because of Logan’s choices.

“Now,” Heinkel said, his voice serious, “many people depend on you, Young Lord. I’m not telling you to give up your dreams. But please, think carefully. Is there a safer way to reach them?”

“…Ha,” Logan sighed softly. “It seems I’ve worried you a lot.”

“But you have also done amazing things,” Heinkel quickly added. “Maybe I spoke too much. Please forgive me, Young Lord.”

“No, not at all,” Logan said sincerely. “Thank you, Sir Heinkel. I appreciate your advice.”

Heinkel’s words stayed with Logan for days. It wasn’t just Heinkel. Everywhere he turned, people were adding to his worries.

Even the dwarf in Taren, who ran the magic workshop, had noticed. *“Master, you look tired,”* the dwarf had said in a worried message. *“Is something wrong? You always do what is smart and profitable, right? Why are you making things so complicated?”*

Then there was the merchant, excited about the future. *“So, I’ll be in charge of the whole merchant guild?”* he had asked eagerly. *“Great! When will you become king?”*

Even his stepmother, usually focused on her own child, had added her voice. *“If you become king, you can find Ronian more easily, yes? Please, Logan, I’m counting on you.”*

All these voices, wanted or not, pushed in on him, making his worries heavier and heavier.

Even his father, Padric, came to see him as soon as he returned from defeating Orlando Perch. Padric had heard the rumors.

“Still worrying?” Padric asked, raising an eyebrow. “And you’re thinking about *that* place? Hmm.” He clicked his tongue softly.

They stood facing each other in the vast, silent grand hall of the Royal Palace. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, making dust motes dance in the air. Padric’s calm, smiling face was a welcome sight. For the first time in days, a small smile touched Logan’s lips.

“Isn’t it a bit silly to worry now?” Padric asked, still smiling. “After you’ve already done so much?”

“Not at all,” Logan replied. “The bigger the decision, the more careful I need to be.”

“…So,” Logan hesitated, “you’ve already decided what you think I should do?”

“Of course!” Padric said firmly.

“Really?” Logan’s eyes widened. He had hoped for clear guidance. He was ready to listen to his father, especially on family matters.

But then Padric said, “I’ve decided to trust you completely. Whatever you choose, I will support you.”

Logan let out a short, humorless laugh. That wasn’t what he expected at all.

“What kind of decision is that?” Logan asked, a little frustrated.

“It’s true,” Padric said, “you should think hard and choose carefully. It’s a huge decision. But once you know which way to go, you must move forward without stopping, right? So, tell me. Have you decided which way to go?” Padric looked at Logan intently, waiting for his answer.

Logan was silent. He couldn’t answer his father’s searching question easily.

*“Patriotism is nonsense. I just want revenge.”* The bitter words from his past life echoed in his mind. Those memories were still sharp, still painful. He had lived by those words, driven by revenge. It had brought him here, changed everything. He had saved his family, protected those he loved. The reason for his revenge, the past pain, should be gone now.

It should be.

But deep inside, Logan could still feel the burning anger, the desire for vengeance, like a fire that refused to be put out.

*This is stupid,* he thought angrily. *I know it is.* But he couldn’t forget the years of suffering, of being humiliated and crushed. He wanted to destroy those who had caused him so much pain, to tear them apart, not just stop a war, but to utterly break them. This raw, powerful emotion made him doubt himself. Was his decision based on what was best for the kingdom, for his family? Or was it just fueled by his own dark desire for revenge? He couldn’t tell anymore. He was lost in the storm of his own feelings.

As if sensing Logan’s inner turmoil, his father smiled gently and put a hand on his shoulder. “You saved us, Logan. You brought us all here. Without you, we would have been ruined, dead, many times over. Everyone in the family knows it.”

Logan was silent, looking at his father.

“So,” Padric said, his voice firm, “trust yourself. Follow the path you believe in. Don’t hesitate. Go forward!” His words felt like a push, urging Logan onward.

Padric turned to leave. His words, meant to encourage, felt like a heavy weight settling on Logan’s heart. The responsibility was immense.

The message from everyone close to him, from his father to his advisors, was the same: *We trust you.* That trust felt like a crushing weight.

*But what if it’s all just my own selfish desire?* Logan thought, the fear rising in his chest. He couldn’t say it out loud, couldn’t admit it even to himself.

He couldn’t delay the decision any longer. Time was running out.

In the vast, echoing grand hall of the Royal Palace, Logan stood alone. He looked up at the empty throne, its dark wood gleaming in the dim light. His gaze was lost, searching for an answer he couldn’t find.

The grand hall of the kingdom was filled again for another important meeting. The air was thick with anticipation.

“…And so,” Adam Morgan announced, his voice echoing through the hall, “we, representing all those who hold land in this kingdom, bring this to Lord Logan McLaine. We ask you to accept our will and begin a new dynasty, a new age!”

Adam Morgan stepped forward and presented a heavy wooden board made of dark ironwood. On it, in clear white letters, were the names and seals of all the noble families.

It might seem like just a ceremony, but this signed document, showing the agreement of all the powerful nobles, was a symbol of incredible power. It meant Logan could do almost anything he wanted in the kingdom.

But there was more.

Six figures walked forward. It was Clayton, the Tower Master of the Golem Magic Tower, followed by the Tower Masters of the other four Great Magic Towers. They moved to the front of the hall and bowed deeply to Logan.

“We, the Tower Masters of the Five Great Magic Towers,” Clayton announced, his voice strong and clear, “have come together to support Lord Logan. All the magic towers of the kingdom will follow our decision and stand with you. We ask you to lead us into a new era.”

As Clayton finished speaking and remained bowed, a ripple of excitement went through the watching nobles. Their eyes shone with anticipation.

*Now it’s truly done,* the nobles thought. *All the formalities are finished.*

The most powerful nobles, the magic towers – all the forces in the kingdom had chosen to follow McLaine. They had given him all the power to decide. The reason was clear: Logan had saved them all, brought them to this point.

Would it be a new kingdom, a new dynasty? Or would Logan rule as the most powerful regent the world had ever seen, ruling in place of the old king? It was his choice. Whatever he decided, everyone knew one thing: as long as Logan McLaine lived, no one in the kingdom would dare to challenge him.

Count Roberts Floyd, who stood just below Logan as regent, was beaming, nodding eagerly. But Logan himself, the one who was supposed to make the announcement, stood still, his eyes closed.

*It will be a new dynasty,* most of the nobles thought, sure of it.

*But maybe,* a few others hoped, *maybe they will keep some part of the old kingdom, which has lasted for a thousand years.*

All eyes were fixed on Logan, waiting, but his silence stretched on, unbroken.

*Hmm? What’s wrong?* some nobles whispered to each other.

The tension in the hall, which had been tight, began to fray. Nobles exchanged worried glances, trying to guess what was happening.

Then, Roberts Floyd, his smile still bright, bowed again to Logan from below the platform. “Lord Logan,” he said, his voice clear and respectful, “please, make your decision.”

Finally, Logan moved. He opened his eyes, which seemed unfocused, still lost in thought. But now, he knew, he had to choose. This was the moment. He took a breath, ready to speak, to announce his decision to the waiting hall.

“Hmm…” Logan began, his voice low. “I…”

Just then, a panicked voice shouted from outside the hall. “L-Lord! Sword Master Felix Esperanza, the Grand Duke, is here!”

The words exploded in the silent hall.

“What?”

“The Sword Master?”

“But why?”

Confusion and shock rippled through the nobles. The hall, which had been holding its breath, erupted in whispers and murmurs.

The heavy, locked doors of the grand hall creaked open slowly, and a figure stepped inside.

The man who entered was clearly Felix Esperanza, the Sword Master. But he was changed. His once bright blond hair was now mostly white, like snow. Deep lines were etched into his face, lines of age and pain, where his skin had once been smooth and youthful. He walked slowly, unsteadily, his steps faltering. His face was pale, showing he was still weak, still recovering from his injuries.

Yet, even in this weakened state, no one could ignore him. This was the Sword Master.

“Is it really him? The Sword Master?” someone whispered in disbelief.

“It’s really him…” another voice breathed.

“What is happening?”

All eyes in the grand hall were now fixed on the old knight. He was a symbol of the kingdom itself, a legend come to life.

Logan stood up quickly, his heart pounding. He stared at his teacher, his eyes wide, almost disbelieving. The Sword Master’s gaze locked onto Logan’s, and he began to walk slowly, step by step, towards the head of the hall, towards Logan’s seat.

The nobles instinctively moved back as the Sword Master walked forward. It wasn’t a planned movement, but a reaction, as if an invisible force was pushing them away.

“Ugh!” a noble gasped, stumbling back.

“W-what is that feeling?” another stammered, his face pale.

With each slow step the Sword Master took, a wave of intense pressure seemed to spread through the grand hall. Nobles with less martial training felt it most strongly, a heavy weight in the air, making it hard to breathe. They stumbled back, pressing themselves against the walls, trying to escape the unseen force.

“What’s happening? Is this going to turn into a fight?” a noble whispered fearfully.

“S-surely not…” another replied, his voice shaking.

“Knights! Do something!” someone shouted, his voice cracking with panic.

As if hearing the rising panic, the Sword Master, who had continued to walk slowly towards Logan, finally drew his sword. The sound of steel scraping against its sheath, *clang*, echoed through the silent hall like a thunderclap.

“Oh no!” someone cried out.

“Sword Master, stop!”

“Protect Lord Logan!”

The knights who had been guarding the edges of the hall surged forward, drawing their own swords, rushing to place themselves between Logan and the Sword Master.

A wall of steel and men sprang up between them. Through the gap, Logan and the Sword Master’s eyes met. For a long, silent moment, they stared at each other. The Sword Master’s eyes, deep blue and strangely calm, despite his weakened state, looked into Logan’s, which were wide and red, filled with confusion and shock.

Then, slowly, the Sword Master’s calm blue eyes lowered.

*Thud.* The heavy sound of metal hitting stone echoed through the hall as the Sword Master plunged his sword point-first into the floor. *Clunk.* He knelt, one knee on the ground, his head bowed.

“I, Felix Esperanza,” the Sword Master’s voice rang out, clear and strong despite his earlier weakness, “pledge my loyalty to the monarch of the new kingdom.”

A stunned silence fell over the grand hall. Then, slowly, the atmosphere shifted, changed completely. No one had expected this.