Regressing as the Reincarnated Bastard of the Sword Clan

Chapter 243

“A Bone Dragon!?”

“What is that thing!?”

“I heard rumors that the Tower once unearthed the intact remains of an ancient dragon species, but could it really be true?”

The group stared in shock, their faces etched with disbelief.

As descendants of the dragons, the sight of an ancient dragon enslaved as an undead stirred visceral disgust and rage within them.

“To deny our kin their return to the natural cycle, to torment them even in death—humans truly are...!”

With a low growl, Lodbrok appeared before Theo, his fury palpable.

Dragons who couldn’t merge with the Mana Stream in death were often victims of violence. These were not creatures that had died peacefully but had been slain—hunted as trophies.

There had been a time when killing an ancient dragon was considered the ultimate proof of strength, a barbaric tradition once popular among the now-extinct demons and certain human tribes allied with them.

Though ancient dragons rarely fell so easily, betrayal, fatigue, or treachery had taken their toll. Dragons murdered in such ways often became wandering specters, unable to return to the Mana Stream, their torment eternal.

And now, the corpse of one such unfortunate being had been desecrated further, turned into an undead weapon.

Atop the Bone Dragon’s massive head stood a skeletal mage, cloaked and hunched, its figure exuding malice.

This was no ordinary undead but a Lich, once a great mage of the Tower, now cursed into its current form.

The Lich raised its staff high, its jawbone clattering as if muttering incantations.

Click, click, click.

Suddenly, the Bone Dragon opened its massive maw, inhaling sharply. Dark mana surged into its jaws, coalescing into a swirling, ominous sphere.

Death Breath.

A high-tier magic capable of dissolving the living and amplifying the curse of death.

“You wretched abominations!”

With a roar, Lodbrok returned to his dragon form, releasing a radiant golden breath.

BOOOOM!

The golden wave collided mid-air with the Bone Dragon’s Death Breath, creating an explosion of mist and shockwaves that rippled outward.

“KROAAAAR!”

“RAAAAH!”

The two colossal forms clashed, their wings beating furiously as they disappeared into the thick mist.

Crash! Boom! CRASH!

The scene above resembled a battle from myth, two legendary dragons locked in mortal combat.

Amidst the chaos, Theo launched his Dragon Orb Sun into the sky, illuminating the battlefield.

Gooooo!

The sheer radiance signified Theo’s intent: to overturn the battlefield with overwhelming force and create an opening for retreat.

.

With a fierce slash, the radiant orb shattered into fragments, which rained down as relentless bolts of lightning.

The destruction was indiscriminate. Bolts struck the Bone Dragon, obliterated the towering tree harboring the assassins, and scattered the beastfolk forces. Even the undead legion in the center of the field was decimated.

Theo prepared to send a telepathic message to his companions, instructing them to retreat. However, his expression darkened as he noticed something alarming.

The second wave of lightning bolts, meant to scatter across the battlefield, began coalescing unnaturally at a single point.

The Lich on the Bone Dragon’s back raised its staff, drawing the bolts toward itself like a lightning rod.

“No way... That Lich—is it ‘Bluebeard’?” Julius muttered, his voice tense.

Theo’s eyes widened.

“Bluebeard? You mean the Tower Lord’s younger brother?”

“That’s right. A lunatic who sought new realms of magic and even offered the heart of his elven wife to a demon king. He was known for wielding blue lightning, earning him the nickname ‘Bluebeard.’ The Tower claimed he died long ago... but it seems they secretly kept him and unleashed him here.”

In an instant, they felt themselves being pulled away, vanishing from the battlefield.

***

“Where is this place?”

“Have you come to your senses, Theo?”

As Theo regained consciousness, the first thing he saw was an enormous pond—if it could even be called that.

It was vast, almost indistinguishable from an ocean. Water lilies floated gently on its surface, their leaves providing shade for vibrant koi swimming underneath.

But what truly mesmerized Theo was the water itself—so clear that the bottom was visible even from a distance. The emerald waves shimmered, radiating a serene energy that calmed his mind and erased his exhaustion.

In fact, the fatigue lingering from their earlier brush with death had vanished completely.

The pond was brimming with life, the polar opposite of the deathly aura they had faced moments ago.

‘It feels like the Mana Stream has been condensed here.’

As Theo marveled at the ethereal sight, he noticed something else:

Two pairs of curious eyes peeked cautiously over the edge of the pond, observing him and his companions.

The Naga.

A race of wise, draconic beings known for their deep connection to nature and wisdom.

But the Nagas’ expressions were far from welcoming. Their wary gazes flitted between Theo and his party.

“Humans.”

“They’re humans.”

“Humans who might kill us.”

“Why were humans brought here?”

“If not for being Wellington’s friends, they wouldn’t be here.”

“We’ll be watching you, humans.”

The Nagas’ suspicion was evident, and Theo recalled the information the Black Dragon had shared: the Naga villages had been destroyed and their people enslaved by Hilda.

“Where is this place? And why are you here?”

Theo’s voice cut through the tense atmosphere.

Just as Wellington opened his mouth to answer, a sudden click! shattered the moment.

Behind Wellington, both Kincarnon and Lezé had drawn their swords and pressed the blades to his neck.

“Wellington Narcio, classified as a Rank-1 fugitive.”

“You are under arrest for attacking Ragnar’s warriors.”

“...Haah.”

Wellington sighed deeply, as if he had been expecting this outcome.

However, his demeanor remained relaxed. He neither flinched nor displayed any concern about the blades at his neck.

Theo couldn’t help but notice how different Wellington seemed compared to the past.

Previously, there had always been an air of restraint about him, as if he were bound by unseen chains. Now, however, he radiated a sense of freedom and self-assurance.

It was as though he had shed those invisible shackles, and his confidence suggested he had something up his sleeve.

But that didn’t absolve him of his crimes.

Hilda and her allies, including Wellington, had been classified as imperial enemies of the north, and Wellington himself was a wanted man.

Clearly, Wellington was aware of his precarious situation.

While Julius and the Maehwa Palace Lord surveyed both Wellington and the area surrounding the pond with sharp, unyielding eyes, Theo’s voice broke the silence.

“Sword Emperor, North Dragon. Lower your blades.”

Kincarnon and Lezé exchanged glances but reluctantly lowered their weapons at Theo’s command.

Theo’s gaze darkened as he fixed his eyes on Wellington.

“It seems you’ve distanced yourself from Lady Hilda and Lord Farell. Explain yourself.”

Wellington scratched his cheek with his forefinger, as if deliberating how much to share. Eventually, he nodded gravely.

“This will take some time to explain... but very well.”

With that, Wellington began to speak, his tone heavy with the weight of untold secrets.