Regressing as the Reincarnated Bastard of the Sword Clan

Chapter 315

The icy gaze of the north wind seemed to pierce through as it landed squarely on Nazariou. Unfiltered, intense bloodlust surged toward him, like the very air was screaming for his demise. Behind Theo, a radiant shadow formed, coalescing into a figure that brought warmth yet instilled awe in all who witnessed it.

The light particles swirling into shape touched the hearts of the Naga survivors deeply, revitalizing their spirits. As Lodbrok descended, her eyes burned with hatred, her sharp gaze fixed firmly on Nazariou.

“How dare you commit atrocities that even beasts would shy away from, while wearing the guise of a human?”

Her voice was cold, cutting through the battlefield with an unearthly chill. The lingering resentment in the land seemed to resonate with her words, frost creeping over the ground in eerie patterns. Members of the Tower couldn’t suppress the shivers coursing through them, their dread evident in their expressions.

“You’ve done what should never have been done,” Theo’s voice followed, carrying a chilling finality.

Even in his previous life, where he had served in intelligence units and witnessed the depths of human cruelty, nothing compared to the grotesque war crimes committed here. The abominations, the massacre—it was beyond comprehension, an evil that defied even the darkest imaginations.

The Mage Tower, which once claimed to uphold honor and justice, had forsaken its own principles in pursuit of power, turning into a monstrous mockery of its former self.

“I warned you. I told you that Ragnar would conquer the Tower with sheer force. That was the last mercy I granted you.”

His voice cracked with restrained fury, the weight of his anger pushing through every word. Theo’s regret was palpable, his gaze darkening further as he thought back to the moment he had hesitated. That hesitation had allowed this atrocity to unfold, a failure he would never forgive himself for.

“My mercy became the breeding ground for your arrogance.”

The air grew heavier with his words, an almost tangible pressure descending upon everyone present. Even the hardened soldiers of the Mage Tower and the mindless chimeras felt it. Their knees buckled, their shoulders slumped as if the very air had gained weight.

A low, menacing hum resonated as Theo’s fury peaked, his hair swaying wildly in the energy radiating from him. His crimson eyes glowed with malevolent intensity, scanning the battlefield like a predator assessing its prey.

“Lodbrok,” Theo addressed calmly, his tone stark against the chaos surrounding them.

“Speak,” she replied, her eyes never leaving the battlefield.

“There are puppeteers controlling these chimeras. They’re also reinforcing them. Sever their threads—render them powerless.”

Her smile turned icy, a chilling promise of retribution. “That’s child’s play.”

“You may find it tedious. They need to be kept alive.”

Lodbrok chuckled, not out of amusement but out of shared understanding. She knew Theo wasn’t underestimating her but declaring his intent to make these culprits suffer fully. It was a sentiment she could wholeheartedly align with.

“Do you know who I am?”

“You’re my partner.”

She smirked. “I’ll bring them to you, unscathed.”

Satisfied, Theo nodded, watching as Lodbrok’s form dissolved into a dazzling stream of golden light that disappeared into the shadows of the forest. Turning to Terepun, who lay battered and broken but alive, Theo knelt and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“You’ve done well. Thank you for holding on and believing.”

The words stirred something deep within Terepun, a mix of relief and pride. They confirmed that his son was alive and that the Naga people might yet survive this nightmare.@@@@

He steadied himself. What mattered now was overcoming the present crisis. Theo had arrogantly entered the battlefield alone—a mistake, or so Nazariou believed. He had invested everything into the creation of his five ultimate chimeric constructs, abominations born of dark sorcery meant to challenge even the might of Ragnar itself.

“This ends here,” Nazariou muttered as he pulled a crimson orb from his robes, its surface crackling with energy. He crushed it in his hand, and a brilliant red light erupted into the air.

Theo, who had been observing the flow of mana, noticed the shift immediately. The ambient black energy surrounding the chimeras surged violently, absorbing the crimson light like a ravenous flame devouring fuel. The grotesque forms of the chimeras began to writhe, their flesh twisting unnaturally.

The bodies of the fallen around them withered grotesquely, their flesh and blood siphoned away until nothing but skeletal husks remained. Cracks formed across the terrain as the chimeras' grotesque transformations reached their apex.

Their already massive frames grew even larger, their skin glowing a molten red as heat radiated from their bodies. Sharp claws extended further, and the multitude of eyes embedded in their misshapen forms gleamed with a malevolent crimson hue.

Watching his creations evolve into their ultimate forms, Nazariou couldn’t suppress a satisfied grin.

“Prepare the siege spell,” he ordered sharply.

One of the hexagram mages hesitated, their expression anxious. “But sir, if we activate that spell, the sanctum itself could be destroyed. Are you certain?”

Nazariou turned on them with a glare that silenced any further protest. “If we don’t stop him here, we die. The Tower falls. Is that what you want?”

The hexagram mages exchanged uneasy glances before nodding reluctantly. “Understood.”

Without another word, they moved deeper into the forest to prepare the siege spell.

Theo stood amidst the battlefield, gazing at the towering monstrosities with a cold, calculating expression. He could end this quickly if he chose—slice their heads clean off and move on. But something about the scene demanded more than efficiency.

These abominations, these twisted amalgamations of life and death, deserved to be obliterated for what they represented. Theo felt the simmering fury within him begging for release, and he resolved to use them as an outlet.

The first chimera moved, letting out a guttural roar as it lunged forward. Its massive arm, sharpened like a lance, hurtled toward Theo. With a calm, deliberate motion, Theo raised his sword, severing the arm with a single, precise strike. He followed through, cutting diagonally across the chimera’s torso, from its left hip to its right shoulder.

But then, something extraordinary happened.

The severed arm regrew instantly, and the cleaved torso reattached itself as if the injury had never occurred.

“High-speed regeneration?” Theo muttered, sidestepping as the chimera retaliated with a swipe that shattered the ground.

His sharp eyes didn’t miss the way the flesh seemed to knit itself together even as it was being cut, as though time itself was rewinding for the creature.

“So that’s how it is.”

Theo’s triple core began to hum, the mana within stirring violently as it flowed into his blade. Flames erupted along the sword’s length, dancing with an intense, searing heat.

With a series of rapid slashes, Theo carved glowing red lines through the air. The chimera’s grotesque form ignited, consumed by the fire. The flames burned hotter and fiercer, reducing the creature to a smoldering husk.

As the charred remains fell away, the corpses embedded in its grotesque body tumbled to the ground. Without hesitation, Theo set them ablaze, the purifying fire consuming their twisted forms until nothing but ash remained.

“Rest in peace,” he whispered, his voice steady, but his eyes burned with determination as he turned to face the next abomination.

The blade in his hand flared brighter as the other chimeras roared and charged.