Regressing as the Reincarnated Bastard of the Sword Clan

Chapter 273

“...Van Harald, what in the world do you think you’re doing?! Do you believe your daughter will remain safe after defying God?!”

A man cloaked in robes stood at the altar, glaring at Harald with bloodshot eyes, as though ready to kill him.

“Don’t you dare mention my daughter with that filthy mouth.”

Chill—

Harald’s voice, low and menacing, reverberated through the shrine, sending shivers down everyone’s spines. The echo lingered, sharpening the atmosphere to an almost unbearable degree, making even the air feel heavy.

It felt like a spell, but it wasn’t. It was the pure, unadulterated fury of a father, magnified by a lethal killing intent far beyond anything he had ever displayed. The murderous aura seemed to take physical form, pricking at the skin of everyone present—even his allies.

“Stay right where you are,” Harald growled, “I’ll give you special treatment.”

The man in robes seemed to be one of the priests who had previously tormented Harald, judging by the venomous gaze he directed at him.

“Do you no longer care if your daughter lives?!” the priest shouted desperately.

Harald gave no reply, raising his axe silently. He had no intention of wasting words any longer.

“Kill him! He has desecrated our sanctuary! He must pay with his life!”

Shing!

Dozens of disciples drew their swords simultaneously. Their blades rushed toward Harald, aiming to pierce him from every direction.

Whooom!

But against Harald’s mighty axe, nothing could stand. One powerful swing was enough to shatter their swords and cleave their bodies in two.

Slash!

Thud!

“I’ll cover your blind spots,” Theo said calmly. “Let out your rage without restraint.”

“Thanks.”

Despite Harald’s immense skill, the nature of his axe techniques left occasional blind spots due to their wide, sweeping motions. While those gaps were minuscule, Theo instinctively filled them, ensuring Harald remained unscathed.

‘Even if he did have blind spots, none of these opponents could inflict a meaningful wound on him.’

Theo preferred not to see any harm come to his allies, no matter how unlikely it seemed.

Flash!

With a burst of light, four Deathbite daggers shot through the air, aimed squarely at the throats of the archers perched above. The daggers struck true, piercing their targets with deadly precision. They died silently, unable to even scream.

Meanwhile, in the melee, Harald’s axe continued its devastation. Bodies flew in all directions, their torsos and legs separated, while massive pillars crumbled under the force of his blows, filling the air with a choking cloud of dust.

As the last disciple was cleaved in half vertically, a massive explosion sent debris flying across the floor.

“You... you monster!”

The robed man staggered backward, his earlier fanaticism replaced by naked fear.

“I should have done this sooner...” Harald muttered bitterly.

Drip... drip...

Blood dripped from his axe as though it were hungry for its next victim.

“How dare you do this... and still think your daughter—!”

Before the priest could finish, Harald’s axe swung, but instead of taking the priest’s head, the edge of the blade precisely tore his mouth apart.

“I told you not to speak of her,” Harald growled. “Why didn’t your so-called God warn you that this would happen?”

His voice, as cold as a winter sea, filled the room. The sound alone seemed to freeze the air around them.

Harald then severed the priest’s legs, leaving him writhing in agony on the ground.

“Aaaaghhh!”

Theo’s sword carved through the Apostles as debris began to cascade from above. The cavern was collapsing in earnest now.

Slash!

The Apostles fell one by one as Theo’s Deathbite daggers and other weapons tore through their ranks, clearing the way.

“Throw the bombs!”

“Don’t let them escape!”

The Apostles lit their bombs and hurled them, but the weapons were swiftly sliced apart by Theo’s daggers before they could detonate.

Rumble!

Harald and Theo pressed forward as the collapsing tunnel loomed ever closer behind them.

“There’s the exit!” Theo shouted. Ahead, a faint light marked their way out. The Blood Apostles blocking their path were finally thinning out.

“Hold your breath!”

Theo leapt forward, narrowly escaping as the tunnel collapsed entirely behind him.

Boom!

A deafening explosion echoed through the canyon as dust and debris engulfed the area. Theo swung his sword to clear the air, revealing the obliterated cave entrance and the canyon, now completely caved in.

* * *

The sound of hurried footsteps echoed through another part of the cavern—urgent and out of place.

The Second Apostle knelt in a quiet chamber, unmoved by the chaos. He remained in reverent prayer, as though nothing unusual was happening.

“Second Apostle!” a man called out as he entered, only to halt abruptly at the sight of the Apostle in prayer. He instinctively held his breath, fully aware of the consequences of interrupting this sacred moment.

“What is it?” the Apostle asked, his voice dripping with irritation. The faint hint of killing intent in his tone made the air heavy.

“Forgive me... but the branch has come under attack.”

The Apostle’s long ears twitched at the report, though he found it difficult to believe at first.

“An attack? By whom?”

“Three individuals,” the man replied. “One is unidentified, but the others are Theo Ragnar and Van Harald.”

The Apostle’s expression remained calm. Theo Ragnar’s involvement made perfect sense—any other scenario would have been odd.

“Send word to the other two temples,” the Apostle ordered. “Deploy the net. And... who is currently in charge of the branch?”

“Bishop Hawkins,” the man answered, trembling under the Apostle’s cold gaze.

“Cut off Hawkins’s head and transfer command to his immediate subordinate.”

“Yes, my lord.”

The messenger disappeared, leaving the cavern to fall silent once more. The Second Apostle resumed his meditative posture, closing his eyes in apparent serenity. Moments later, he stood and began to make his way out of the cavern.

As he exited, messenger birds were already darting through the air, carrying orders to the other two temples. At the eastern and western ends of the canyon, the temple sentries read the messages hurriedly before disappearing into the interior of their respective strongholds.

Thud-thud-thud-thud—

Armored soldiers poured out from the temples in a terrifyingly organized manner. No words were exchanged, no need for commands or hurried cries. Each soldier moved with precision, taking their designated positions.

From the eastern temple, the last to emerge carried a spear adorned with a gruesome trophy—a severed head impaled at its tip. The lifeless face, eyes wide in terror, was none other than Bishop Hawkins, the former commander of the branch.

Crunch!

The soldier drove the spear into the ground at the temple’s entrance as if marking it as a warning. Without pause, he marched forward to take his position.

The soldiers spread out systematically, creating an encirclement that covered the entire canyon and forest. As the heavy march finally ceased, the earth grew quiet once more, returning to a tense stillness.

The forest’s earlier unsettling air was now thick with suffocating tension, the calm before a storm.