The Regressor Can Make Them All-Chapter 382

In the private training room reserved only for the Babel’s elite students, Jake swung the Windchaser Sword with sharp precision.

Swish!

The blade, gleaming with a cyan-green hue, cut through the air, leaving behind brilliant arcs of light. Six floating swords followed in perfect formation, guarding him like loyal sentinels.

At first, his movements were broad and fluid, as gentle as a breeze. But as his swordplay intensified, the arcs of his sword grew narrower and his speed surged. And soon enough, a raging storm swept across the space before him. Following that, all six sword trajectories merged into the Windchaser Sword, causing it to burst with a dazzling cyan radiance.

Slice!

The protective barrier surrounding the training room was neatly cut apart.

[Barrier integrity: 0%]

[Training will be suspended until the barrier is fully restored.]

Hearing the mechanical voice echo throughout the training room, Jake caught his slightly ragged breaths and turned around—to find Se-Hoon watching with arms crossed.

“Uh... So... what do you think?” Jake asked, nervous due to Se-Hoon’s unreadable expression.

Se-Hoon tilted his head slightly. “Hm. It’s not bad.”

Jake had been wielding a sword for about eight months now. He, who had been hesitant to even swing a blade from fear of breaking it due to his unique physique, was now handling one with ease, executing powerful and confident swordplay.

Moreover, his Sword Control—which he had only begun practicing over summer break—was refined enough for combat. If he gained more experience, he could likely even hold his own against S-rank opponents.

However...

“But I wouldn’t call it great. Your technique is cleaner, sure. But nothing’s changed aside from that.”

“Ugh...” Jake winced.

While Jake’s sword was now free of unnecessary movements, beyond that, there was no actual change. It was as if he had perfected solely the hilt, leaving the blade itself incomplete. And yet, he had spent months refining only the hilt.

“I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with digging deep into your practice,” Se-Hoon said, shrugging. “But at some point, you need to have a clear vision of what you’re trying to achieve.”

No matter how much one polished the hilt, its blade wouldn’t magically appear. Swordsmanship was no different.

If Jake didn’t even know what kind of swordsmanship he sought to master or what he was aiming to accomplish with it, then swinging his sword wouldn’t change a thing.

“While you might have gotten by until now... this is where you either break through and become a real S-rank, or you don’t.”

“...Yeah. I figured as much.”

“No one’s told you about this? With your skills, someone should’ve pointed it out by now.”

Jake fell silent. Truthfully, he’d already had countless discussions about his swordsmanship with those around him. Heroes often talked shop when they met, and given Jake’s exceptional talent, many had high expectations for him.

“Your fundamentals are solid. Incorporate your synesthetic mindscape into it, and you'll quickly gain recognition as an S-rank individual. Your family must be thrilled.”

“No need to rush. At your level, it’ll come naturally.”

“Did you really just ask me how to infuse your synesthetic mindscape into your techniques? With your skill, it should happen naturally. Maybe you just haven’t realized it yet?”

Those who were skilled enough saw the flaw—that Jake’s techniques lacked his synesthetic mindscape—yet no one truly pressed him on it.

It was no wonder. As a first-year student, he was already way past the common standard. And with his talent, it was only a matter of time before he figured it out on his own.

Jake, too, had believed that himself.

But I was wrong.

Jake clenched his fists, and a painful memory resurfaced.

The sword slipped from his grasp; his sister standing in front of him, shielding him; blood droplets scattered in the air.

His eyes wavered at the traumatic scene unfolding in his mind as a deep, self-reproach escaped him.

“I’ve had plenty of advice. But I... I was too complacent.”

Self-loathing weighed heavily on Jake’s face.

He’s more shaken up than I expected, Se-Hoon thought, studying him quietly.

He had already heard what happened—by waking up Amir and getting the full story.

Near the Pilgrim’s Path in southern Indonesia, Jake had been saved by Aria, who took the hit in his place during the battle between heroes and the Demon Force.

She was slashed on the shoulder...

While the wound had been minor, one healed on the same day, Jake didn’t see it that way. No matter how trivial the injury, his family had been put at risk because of his weakness. And that reality had hit him hard.

Yet that wasn’t Se-Hoon’s most pressing concern.

His gaze darkened. To the public, the incident had been dismissed as just another demon attack. But he and the higher-ups knew better.

The enemy Jake and Aria had faced wielded a sword eerily similar to that of Nicholas in Moscow.

And I heard someone similar appeared in Hokkaido, too.

Was that really a coincidence? Unlikely.

The prevailing theory at the moment was that Demon’s Edge was starting to distribute its power. But Se-Hoon knew better.

The Demon Force must have successfully mass-replicated Demon’s Edge’s power.

All three incidents involved bioweapons—living swords fused with their users. When considering the Demon’s Edge Corps from before his regression as well, that explanation made too much sense.

Naturally, it was far more logical to mass-produce these weapons than to grant power to thousands of demons personally.

Something big is coming.

Se-Hoon let out a quiet sigh.

He was planning to deal with the impurity issue first before making any major moves. Alas, it seemed he didn’t have that luxury anymore.

His gaze shifted back to Jake, who looked utterly defeated.

“How strong do you want to be?”

“...Huh?”

“You need to tell me exactly how strong you want to be. Otherwise, how am I supposed to help you?”

Jake paused to think.

Was simply learning to imbue his synesthetic mindscape into his sword enough? No. That wouldn’t be nearly enough.

Even if he mastered such a technique, stronger opponents would always appear. And if he remained stagnant, the same tragedy would repeat—except next time, someone might actually die because of him.

With a clearer image of his goal taking shape in his mind, Jake clenched his fists and declared it with unwavering determination. “Stronger than my sister... No, stronger than the Perfect Ones themselves.”

To protect everyone—to keep his naive wish of “no one getting hurt”—he needed absolute power. Even if it seemed impossible, he would strive toward it.

It was a goal that some might dismiss as a young student’s childish ambition, but Se-Hoon didn’t. Instead, a pleased smile formed on his lips.

“Good. That’s the mindset we want.”

A synesthetic mindscape wasn’t something one could cautiously build up over time. It was something that could only be developed with a desperate yearning, a fanatical belief in a future that seemed impossible.

In the world, only those who successfully twisted reality through sheer conviction became S-ranks. And those who rewrote the laws of the world itself... became a Perfect One.

If you really want to be strong, you have to believe you can surpass even them.

Before regressing, Se-Hoon had encountered many monsters—the Three Dogs, the Ten Evils, even the Harbingers of Destruction—and none had ever bowed before the Perfect Ones. Not a single one had ever accepted their limits.

That was why, upon sensing a glimmer of that same mindset in Jake, Se-Hoon’s satisfaction deepened.

There are plenty of ways to train him, but the problem is time.

The most efficient method would be tossing Jake into the Trials of the Muren Monastery and torturing him 24/7. But that would mean Se-Hoon himself would be stuck there in the meantime, unable to handle more pressing matters like preparations for the Demon Force’s future attacks and the Silent Volcano subjugation. freewebnøvel.coɱ

“...Ah.”

So instead, he thought of another option—one that could kill multiple birds with one stone.

A certain man’s face flashed through his mind.

Not sure if he’ll agree, but... might as well give it a shot.

Thinking of the man that he needed to meet eventually anyway, Se-Hoon realized that man might also just be the perfect mentor for Jake.

Plus, I can pick up a gift for Luize while I’m at it.

With a plan formed in his head, he pulled out his phone and began making a call.

“What are you doing?” Jake watched him curiously.

“Making a reservation.”

“A reservation?”

Jake frowned. He doubted Se-Hoon was booking a restaurant. So then, was he reaching out to an S-rank hero to arrange training?

But before he could ask, Se-Hoon grinned.

“We’re going on a tour of an orchard.”

***

The two arrived at an orchard in Pennsylvania, USA.

Considering it was mid-December, most orchards would be barren, their trees stripped bare as they all prepared for the winter.

However, the orchard before them was different. Lush greenery stretched as far as the eye could see, vibrant fruit trees heavy with a ripening harvest.

Taking in the unnatural scenery, Jake’s eyes gleamed with curiosity.

“Weather manipulation?”

“Partly. They probably tweaked the soil too—maybe to speed up the plants’ growth or something like that.”

“Huh... I’ve heard of stuff like this, but it’s my first time seeing it in person.”

Jake, who had been initially baffled by their sudden orchard trip, quickly became engrossed in the surroundings.

Meanwhile, Se-Hoon started on a leisurely stroll, enjoying the view.

Aside from them, there was also an older man trailing behind; one that was glaring at Se-Hoon with a haggard expression.

“So...” Kwang-Soo grumbled. “Why the hell did you drag me out here?”

“I’m certain you’ve been holed up in your house, drinking yourself to death all day. Thought some fresh air might do you good.”

Se-Hoon knew that Kwang-Soo’s synesthetic mindscape had been thrown into disarray after his battle with Doppelganger. In fact, Kwang-Soo was following his advice by taking a leave of absence.

However, instead of recovering, Kwang-Soo had become a total wreck. He had relapsed into alcoholism, burning through his savings and even taking an advance on his salary just to afford more booze.

“...Tsk. Waste of time. You think I have nothing better to do?”

“You mean stocks?” Se-Hoon smirked. “I heard you blew all your money and had to take an advance from the Chairman... wait. Don’t tell me you threw that money into stocks too?”

Kwang-Soo’s face froze.

Then, like a crumpled piece of paper, his expression collapsed.

“...That bastard.”

He had begged Ludwig not to tell anyone. Yet, within days, Se-Hoon already knew everything.

Should’ve just taken a damn loan instead...

Grinding his teeth in regret, Kwang-Soo suddenly sensed someone staring.

“...Ah.”

Jake, shifting awkwardly, hesitated before offering a small, sympathetic smile.

“If you ever need help... just let me know.”

It wasn’t pity but genuine concern—an attempt to be considerate of Kwang-Soo’s pride.

Yet that only made Kwang-Soo feel worse.

His face burned with shame, and he finally exploded.

“Enough! I don’t have time to waste in a damn orchard! I’m leaving—”

But just as he turned to go, his gaze caught something.

A sign was casually posted near the entrance: “Jason’s Orchard.”

“...What?”

Kwang-Soo froze in place, his expression changing to one of shock.

Then, turning to Se-Hoon, he immediately narrowed his eyes.

“You...”

Se-Hoon grinned.

“Come on. This might be a good experience for you.”

“...”

Kwang-Soo hesitated for a moment, then let out a deep, resigned sigh.

“...Damn it.”

Giving up, he followed obediently.

Seeing that, Jake, perplexed by the strange exchange, leaned toward Se-Hoon and whispered, “Is this orchard run by someone Professor Ma knows?”

“...You could say that.”

Se-Hoon’s vague response made Jake frown.

Like Kwang-Soo, his gaze flickered toward the sign.

Jason... Jason... That name sounds familiar.

Although the orchard was famous for its delicious cherries and other fruits, if that was all, there was no reason for Se-Hoon to bring them here.

Jake racked his brain, trying to recall any famous person named Jason. And then...

“...Wait.”

A sudden realization occurred.

The name was far too well-known, so much so that Jake felt stupid for not recognizing it immediately.

But, for the same reason, that was exactly why he thought it was impossible.

No way. There’s no way someone like him would be here.

His whereabouts were unknown, but still, would a man like that really be working as a farmer in an orchard?

As Jake shook his head, trying to dismiss the absurd thought...

Step-

Someone emerged from deep within the orchard.

The man was wearing an old straw hat, dressed in a faded T-shirt and worn-out work pants.

However, his arms—covered in scars and calluses—were unmistakable.

Even though he appeared to be a typical farmer, there was an unsettling aspect to him—one that made Jake’s eyes widened on instinct.

“A customer.”

At the climax of the war against the Demon Force, the sixth Perfect One had appeared.

And now, that man—the Trailblazer, Jason Diaz—was standing before them.

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