Chapter 144

[You have successfully uncovered additional hidden information about the .]

[You are now glimpsing a fragment of the !]

As the system messages floated before him, Theo began piecing together the nature of the .

『Do you know what else they call the ?』

Rodbrok’s voice retained its playful tone, but Theo didn’t miss the undercurrent of bitter resentment and sorrow beneath it.

"I don’t know."

『The one who calls forth the . That is their other name.』

"The End...!"

『And the exist to prevent the “circle” of time from looping back to its origin at the point of the .』

The Guardians.

They had been referred to as those who opposed the , standing as its antithesis.

But this revelation brought new questions.

If the Guardians sought to repel the , then what role did Ragnar play in holding back the Sovereign all this time?

And what about the , those capable of breaking free from the “circle” to regress through time?

"If Cassandra’s prophetic Insight gathers residual fragments left by the ‘circle,’ then what is it that the Chosen do when they regress?"

『They are the only ones capable of opposing the “circle.”』

Theo’s eyes widened.

"Does that mean—?"

Rodbrok began to laugh softly, but his voice soon became garbled, filled with static and distortion.

『Hahaha... You sometimes ■■■, and you ■■ to ■■■■ ■■■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■...!』

The distortion made Rodbrok’s words incomprehensible.

『Ah, it seems you lack the required to hear more. You’ll need to push further if you wish to grasp the true secrets of the world.』

Though the restrictions prevented Rodbrok from saying more, Theo understood enough.

The quest’s solution would have to come from his own efforts.

"Understood. I’ll focus on what I need to do for now."

『Good. Then I’ll leave you to handle those chatty fellows.』

Theo sighed, glancing at the ghosts swirling endlessly around him.

A faint blue light emanated from their translucent forms.

***

The faint blue light that enveloped the ghosts didn’t just cling to them—it filled the entire crypt.

This meant the solution to the quest was intrinsically tied to this mausoleum.

- Huh?

Theo locked eyes with the most talkative ghost in the group.

Before doing so, he had already informed his companions not to be alarmed, no matter how strange his actions seemed.

- Wh-what the? He’s looking right at me!

- Oh, come on. Quit it. That’s just a coincidence. He hasn’t even glanced at us this whole time!

"Good evening."

- Gah!

- H-he just greeted us, didn’t he?

- Y-yeah, it really seems like it!"

"My apologies for not addressing you earlier due to my companions being present. Let me introduce myself properly. I am Theo Ragnar."

The ghosts erupted in a cacophony of cheers.

- It’s true! He’s actually talking to us!

- Unbelievable! A living human who can see and talk to us—it’s been centuries!

- Hey, hold on. Did he just say Ragnar?

"Yes, that’s correct."

- A descendant of Ragnar!

The first living human they had spoken to in centuries turned out to be the very descendant they had sacrificed so much to protect. Their joy knew no bounds.

- See? Ragnar survived! All our sacrifices weren’t in vain!

- Damn right! We knew they’d make it!

- Ugh, stop overreacting. We all knew they’d be fine, didn’t we?

- Oh, shut up! Can’t we just enjoy the moment for once? Read the room, will you?"

As they bickered, one of the ghosts stepped forward, scrutinizing Theo intently.

Theo tilted his head, curious about the sudden attention.

- Hey, are you really a Ragnar? Something feels… off.

- What are you on about now?

- Ugh, you know how he is. Always spouting nonsense.

- Look at him—black hair, crimson eyes. He’s definitely a Ragnar. What’s the issue?

- Tsk, tsk, tsk! You fools. Don’t you see it? The one thing that doesn’t add up?

The ghost wagged his finger dramatically as if he were a detective revealing a grand mystery.

Theo watched him, bemused.

- So, what’s the big issue? Spit it out already!

- He’s too good-looking. Way too good-looking.

- …What?

- …What the hell are you even saying?

- Look at your own faces! Could any of you lot produce a descendant with that kind of face? Absolutely not!"

- Hey, what’s wrong with our faces?

- Oh, come on. With Keon’s mug, sure, I’d believe it’s impossible. But me? Totally plausible. Maybe he’s my descendant?"

- Shut it, Yad! Your face looks like it’s been halfway smashed into the dirt!"

- What did you just say? Look who’s talking! Your face looks like a rotten potato that’s been sitting in the ground for three years!"

- At least I don’t think I’m handsome! But among us, I’m definitely the best-looking one here."

- Oh, for crying out loud! You think you’re better-looking than me? Dream on!"

- Hah! Being compared to any of you is an insult!"

The ghosts descended into chaos, grabbing at each other and engaging in a ghostly brawl.

A few broke away, inspecting their reflections in icy surfaces, muttering about their appearance.

Theo could only stare in silence, utterly dumbfounded.

"…."

Confusion, pure confusion.

Theo decided not to engage further, keeping silent as the chaos unfolded.

The self-proclaimed "detective ghost" raised a hand dramatically.

- Furthermore! I have definitive proof this guy isn’t one of our descendants!

- Now what?

- Lathe, if you keep spouting nonsense, just shut up alrea—

- He’s too polite!

- Huh?

- What?

- Tell me, can you honestly imagine a Ragnar descendant being so polite and speaking so elegantly? Impossible!

The detective ghost’s outburst made the others pause and nod in agreement.

- He’s got a point.

- Makes sense.

- There’s no way someone with such a polished demeanor could be a Ragnar. Our clan’s character has always been... a bit rough around the edges.

- So, what now? Do I get my heartfelt emotions back? Hand them over!

- Hey, kid, who are you really?

All the ghosts now stared at Theo intently, as though trying to unravel his secret identity.

Theo let out a deep, exasperated sigh.

To claim he wasn’t a Ragnar just because he was polite—what kind of logic was that?

The real problem was that Theo couldn’t exactly refute them.

"I am a Ragnar," he stated plainly.

- No way!

"Would I have addressed you so respectfully if you weren’t my ancestors?"

- He is a Ragnar!

- Such a magnificent one, too!

For a fleeting moment, Theo contemplated the state of the Ragnar bloodline.

Was this really okay? If his ancestors were like this, surely the line would continue just fine.

He sighed again.

"More importantly, why are you all still lingering in this world? Shouldn’t you have moved on by now?"

- You mean, why haven’t we passed on?

"Yes. Do you have any lingering regrets?"

- No, not really.

- I do!

- Me too! Me too!

- Huh? You never mentioned that before.

- Well, it’s embarrassing! I’m worried my wife might have found the erotic art I hid under the bed.

- Wait, you too? I was wondering the same thing!"

With so many voices clamoring, any attempt to get a straight answer kept veering wildly off course.

Theo steeled himself to stay focused.

"It doesn’t seem like you’re staying because of regrets, though."

- Hey, kid. You’re a Chosen One, aren’t you?

"That’s correct."

- Then show us a swing of your sword right here.

The sudden change in topic caught Theo off guard, but he suspected this request was connected to their lingering presence.

Internally, he welcomed the idea.

‘If I can learn about ancient swordsmanship from them, it’ll be worth it.’

Even if it wasn’t directly related to his quest, gaining insight from these warriors would undoubtedly aid his skills.

"Though my skills are lacking, I would be honored to receive guidance from my esteemed ancestors. I will do my best."

- Look at him, so eloquent!

- He could be a politician. Hey, are you really a Ragnar? Maybe you’re only partially related by blood?

"I am of direct descent. I even hold succession rights."

- Gasp!

- Step aside, you distant-branch losers! The rightful heir is speaking!

The ghosts, surprisingly, sat down in an orderly fashion, their glowing eyes fixed on Theo.

It felt awkward to swing his sword in front of so many seasoned warriors, but Theo steadied his breathing.

Drawing the Blade of Drake, he assumed his stance.

Instantly, the atmosphere around him shifted.

- Oh, those eyes. Not bad at all.

- He is a Ragnar!

- Shh! Let’s focus and watch carefully.

The ghosts, who had been bickering moments ago, now watched Theo with unwavering attention.

Even Roadbrooke seemed amused.

‘So they really are Ragnars. The moment a talented descendant shows up, their competitive streak comes out.’

"Have you been observing all this time?" Theo asked internally.

‘Of course.’

"Then why didn’t you say anything earlier…?"

‘Dealing with these chatty old ghosts is tiresome. Especially Ragnars—they all turn into bossy know-it-alls when they get older.’

"…."

Theo couldn't find anything to refute and kept his lips tightly shut, focusing entirely on his blade.

With all his senses heightened—

Shh, shh, shh!

He began to move.

Thump, thump, thump—

Boom, boom, boom!

The sound of his heart pounding filled the space, each beat reverberating through the ground.

- Not bad.

He swung, then swung again.

Each breath-contained sword strike branched off, scattering and multiplying until the entire cavern felt alive with the presence of his blade.

For a heavy and sizable greatsword, the speed with which he executed his techniques seemed almost unnatural.

When he finished his demonstration, Theo exhaled deeply, letting out a long breath.

"It's not much, but that's all for now."

- Keeeeeah!

- This Ragnar really hit the jackpot!

- Some finer details could use work, but the boy's eye for the sword seems sharp enough.

- Hey, kid! How old are you?

"This year, I turned sixteen."

- Eh, that’s not what I meant! How old are you, including your regression?

Theo paused, counting quickly on his fingers.

"Before regression, I was thirty-two… so I suppose that makes me thirty-three now."

- What? That’s it? Which cycle is this?

"My first."

- ……

- ……

- ……

A heavy silence fell over the ghosts.

Theo blinked, wondering if he’d said something wrong.

- Seriously, your first cycle? For real?

"Yes, that’s correct."

- Hah! And yet, this level of comprehension?

- There's no reason for him to lie to us… Hmm!

The ghosts stroked their spectral chins, exchanging glances at a rapid pace.

- There are a few things I'd like to point out.

"Please, share them. I'll listen closely."

- First off, when you start your movements, don’t you inhale deeply? At that moment, try angling your foot outward by 15 degrees…

- I think the swordplay could be a little more concise. In other words…

- This is a technique I mastered in life, but…

- You seem to wield lightning-based mana. Lightning is fast and fierce, but it's also risky. To handle that, you should…

With nearly 299 ghosts all chiming in, even if each contributed just one comment, the sheer volume of advice was overwhelming.

And these weren’t just ordinary spirits—they were all verbose and opinionated, trying to push their thoughts forward.

Theo worked hard to absorb as much of their feedback as possible.

"Would this work better?"

- Ah, in that part, angle it upward.

- And redistribute your breathing slightly to channel the mana toward your scapula.

- Oh, good point! Stimulate your nervous system with lightning force to draw out more power…

Before he knew it, what had started as chaotic feedback turned into a spirited discussion.

The ghosts debated how Theo’s swordsmanship could become cleaner, more impactful, and explosively refined.

Being top-tier masters of their respective eras, their comments were all piercingly insightful.

With their combined wisdom, the depth of their advice grew even richer.

For Theo, it was an opportunity to glimpse a world of swordsmanship he had never imagined.

- A sword is the combination of lines and circles. From there, planes are formed, and layered planes give rise to form. Volume and mass accumulate, and atop that, color is applied…

- Therefore, a swordsman can also be seen as an artist. In this context, the sword becomes the brush, and the void becomes the canvas. As an artist’s painting reflects the landscapes of their vision, so too does a swordsman’s technique reflect the essence of their world…

- Artists paint a variety of works—landscapes, portraits, watercolors, ink paintings, oil paintings—and beneath each, numerous techniques and styles exist…

- Thus, a swordsman must also consider how to depict the world they see through their blade…

The voices resonated deeply.

The discussions between the Plum Blossom Lord and Julius that Theo had struggled to understand before now unraveled before his mind’s eye as if the answers had always been there.

The sphere of the sword continued to flood his thoughts with inspiration.

Countless sword techniques painted themselves across his vision—appearing, merging, twisting, disappearing, and re-emerging in an endless cycle.

All of Theo's accumulated techniques—Nibelung's Claw, Wind Thunder God, Storm Dragon Flash Style, and Flying Blade Movement—were dismantled and reassembled.

Boom.

It felt like something exploded within his head.

Theo found himself entering a state of euphoria.

Even the voices of the ghosts gradually faded from his perception.

- Oh!

- I thought he might have grasped something, but he's already breaking through the wall?

- He said this is only his first regression, right? This kid's a real gem, no doubt about it.

The ghosts gazed intently at Theo as he stood there, lost in his enlightenment.

A stream of countless stars flickered across his pupils like a galaxy contained within his eyes, deepening his gaze to infinite depths.

These were realms they themselves had once passed through.

Understanding that Theo was consolidating the shattering fragments of an epiphany, they left him undisturbed.

A few of them even stepped forward to stand guard, ready to fend off any potential interruptions.

Fortunately, none came.

Moments later, Theo overcame the lingering aftereffects and regained his senses.

- Back with us now?

Theo smiled faintly as he noticed the 299 pairs of eyes watching him intently.

He realized what had just happened.

This had been a fateful encounter.

A rare opportunity to cross a threshold that some people pursued their entire lives without ever reaching.

Six-star.

Theo knew exactly where he now stood.

At his current level, he was confident he could hold his own against other advanced swordsmen in a head-on clash.

And with Dragon Blood Awakening, perhaps… he could even set his sights beyond.

"Thank you."

Theo bowed his head deeply, performing a swordsman’s salute.

Thanks to them, he had glimpsed a new world.

Though there was still much to refine, he felt as though he had reforged himself from the ground up.

- Ha! You're right to thank us! You should, absolutely!

- After all, we're incredible. Opportunities like this? Once in a lifetime, if you're lucky.

- Still, the more I see of you, the less like a Ragnar you seem. Imagine that—a Ragnar with a sense of gratitude! Such a fine, upstanding young man.

The ghosts chuckled, clearly pleased with themselves, until the self-proclaimed detective among them spoke.

- You asked us earlier why we’re still lingering in this world, didn’t you?

Theo lifted his head sharply.

The blue light around them was growing stronger.

- Follow me. I'll show you. And as a chosen one, you’ll likely find it quite fascinating.

Without hesitation, Theo stepped forward. The glow deepened, illuminating the path ahead, as the ghost led the way deeper into the mysteries of the mausoleum.