The Regressor Can Make Them All-Chapter 380

It had been about a year.

In that relatively short period since regressing, Se-Hoon had experienced a staggering number of life-or-death situations—battles against the Ten Evils, the subjugation of a Harbinger of Destruction, and the rampage of a Perfect One. freёweɓnovel_com

Each event had been fraught with danger, yet every time, he had successfully overcome it, relying on the knowledge and experience he had.

That was why he had been confident that no matter what happened, nothing should be a problem for him.

But now, he finally knew just how mistaken he was.

“Do you seriously have a personality issue?”

It was a realization he had come to while facing Luize, whose blue eyes were practically ablaze with fury.

“Is it that you just enjoy scaring people and then acting like they’re the ones overreacting? Or do you just want to see someone pass out? Huh? Hey, stop sitting there silently and explain yourself already.”

Her voice was frigid, cutting into him like a blade.

Enduring the barrage from his seat on the sofa, Se-Hoon hesitated, rolling his eyes around and around, before cautiously opening his mouth. “Well, I trusted you guys, so—”

Bang!

Before he could finish, Luize slammed both hands on the table.

She locked her burning gaze on him.

“Choosing to trust us and having no choice but to trust us are two completely different things! Sure, you can act however you want without thinking twice, but do you have any idea how terrifying it is for the rest of us watching?!!!”

Unlike her usual lighthearted complaints, her voice was filled with genuine anger—and it was only growing.

Sensing that, Se-Hoon quickly shut his mouth and lowered his gaze. He intuitively knew that anything he said now would only make her angrier.

...Maybe I did go a little too far.

From his perspective, he had survived the terrifying experience inside the Destroyer of Fragmentation’s synesthetic mindscape, so the mass of flesh was nothing. But apparently, the others didn’t see it that way.

Behind Luize, even Sung-Ha and Amir were watching with a look that all but screamed, “You brought this on yourself.”

Se-Hoon couldn’t help but grimace at that fact.

Now that I think about it... yeah, I guess it was a bit much.

Sure, a lot had happened over the past year, but in the end, it had still only been one year. And yet, he had expected they would trust him as much as the comrades who had fought together with him for years on the battlefield.

It was actually no wonder that they’d react in such a way.

Maybe I’ve been too fixated on the past.

Although he had repeatedly told himself that they weren’t the same as the Three Dogs, little by little, he had begun treating them as if they were. It was an unconscious habit; he had never even realized he was doing it.

With his thoughts reaching that point, he realized that if the Three Dogs saw him right now, they would have called him a creep. It was an amusing thought, making Se-Hoon chuckle involuntarily.

“...You know what? You just need a good beating.”

Unfortunately, that made Luize think he was taking the situation lightheartedly, shooting her anger straight to its peak.

Thud! Crash! Bang!

With a furious shout, she unleashed a flurry of merciless blows before storming out of the room moments later, still fuming.

Watching her retreating figure, Amir sighed and turned to Se-Hoon, who lay sprawled across the sofa.

“We’ll let it slide with this, so you better do some serious reflecting.”

“Hmph. Don’t you think we’re letting him go a bit too easily?”

“Just shut up and come over here.”

At those words, Sung-Ha, who looked slightly disappointed that Se-Hoon hadn’t been beaten harder, was dragged out by Amir. Left alone, Se-Hoon slowly sat up while running a hand through his hair, which was now a complete mess from being grabbed and shaken.

“...This is going to last for a while.”

The ones who were easygoing were often also the ones who held onto anger the longest when they finally got upset. Judging by how furious Luize had been, nothing was going to blow over anytime soon.

Guess I should buy her something...

He had no clue what, but he thought that if he at least put some thought into it, then perhaps she’d be willing to forgive him.

As he pondered possible gifts, he soon heard movement outside, which was followed by a knock.

“I’m coming in.”

And without waiting for a response, Meirin stepped into the room.

“Hm. You look more unscathed than I expected,” she observed, taking in Se-Hoon’s disheveled hair and rumpled clothes.

“This is ‘unscathed’ to you?”

“If it were me, I would’ve broken a few bones to make sure you learned your lesson.”

Se-Hoon’s expression instantly twisted at that casual remark. He knew better than anyone that she wasn’t saying that half-heartedly, having experienced it himself. She had once caught him overtraining, and his right arm had been completely shattered by her.

What am I even supposed to say to that...

If the three just reminded him of the Three Dogs, Meirin was practically the exact same person as his master. She had always been that way since he met her again, but on second thought, perhaps that was just inevitable, considering Soul Honing’s nature.

“Enough chit-chat. Let’s get down to business.” She sat across from him, pulling out a cigarette. “I handed Nicholas over to the government.”

“Oh. How was his condition?”

“Other than some memory loss, he was fine. Seemed pretty dazed, though—guess he didn’t expect things to turn out that way.”

Normally, when Legendary-tier equipment went on a rampage, even an S-rank hero would struggle to make it out alive. And Nicholas’s case had been even worse, as the Golden Origin Equipment had mutated into a bioweapon that was consuming his body. Just surviving with all limbs intact was nothing short of a miracle.

“Lucky guy. I figured he’d at least lose something.”

“Lucky, huh...”

While the public believed Nicholas had merely imitated Demon’s Edge, Meirin, who had examined his body closely, found out that wasn’t the case. He had been completely corrupted by demonic aura, putting him past the point of no return.

In other words, he had fully transformed into a demon.

And yet... he was still human till the end.

Sure, surviving the rampage of Legendary-tier equipment could be chalked up to luck. But turning back after becoming a demon? That was impossible.

Furrowing her brow, Meirin turned her gaze back to Se-Hoon.

“Can you show me the Golden Origin Armor?”

“No problem.”

Without hesitation, Se-Hoon stretched out his right hand. Silver liquid metal oozed out like slime from his sleeve, pooling onto the table before quickly shaping into a set of armor.

Drip-

The silver metal rippled before solidifying in a split second. Meirin flicked her unlit cigarette at the sight, sharpening her eyes to observe the armor.

[Golden Origin Armor]

[Tier: Legendary] [Quality: Excellent]

[A suit of armor containing the essence of gold attributed mana.

Forged by basing it off the foundations of synesthetic mindscapes, the armor can store and enhance the wearer’s synesthetic mindscape.

The more synesthetic mindscapes the armor stores, the greater the stored strength. And once certain conditions are met, some of the stored synesthetic mindscapes can even be permanently fused.

*Stores and enhances the wearer’s synesthetic mindscape

*Once fully integrated, the synesthetic mindscapes can bring permanent change to the armor

*Allows the use of the skill ‘Golden Origin Bond’]

The armor has reset completely.

The overwhelming power accumulated over countless previous wielders had been wiped clean, leaving it in its original state.

“Did you do this?” Meirin rubbed her chin, studying the armor

“Yeah. It was going to break otherwise.”

When the Golden Origin Armor went out of control, Se-Hoon had deliberately thrown himself into the mass of flesh for two reasons.

First, to investigate how Nicholas had somehow imitated Demon’s Edge’s power. And second, to see if he could retrieve the armor before it broke completely.

I guess rampages can be useful sometimes.

Nicholas had used the demonic-aura-infused tissue and the unique properties of the Golden Origin Armor to transform into a demon. However, that transformation was different from the typical kind.

Rather than altering his own body, Nicholas had mutated the Golden Origin Armor instead, then fusing with it to become a mass of living flesh. By doing so, he remained fundamentally human, despite wielding the power of a demon.

Well, if left unchecked, he would have eventually lost himself in the weapon. But... he got lucky in the end.

The transformation had taken longer than expected due to the staggering amount of accumulated power within the Golden Origin Armor. And in that extra time, the trio had destroyed its core, weakening its cohesion.

Se-Hoon had then seized that moment—by throwing himself directly into the writhing mass of flesh. From within, he could forcefully sever the Golden Origin Armor from Nicholas, leaving both cleanly separated.

“...I see. So Nicholas was just an afterthought from the beginning.”

“He did something, but at best, he was just a display mannequin. He would’ve been dead if I had made even the slightest mistake,” Se-Hoon nonchalantly explained.

Meirin fell silent, turning her gaze back to the Golden Origin Armor, deep in thought. She now understood how Nicholas had returned to being human. However, that didn’t mean it was something effortless.

Such a thing requires a deep understanding of both the human body and bioweapons, as well as the ability to cut even the most intricate tissues precisely...

It wasn’t something that could be done with mere talent. And Meirin knew that every single blacksmith capable of fulfilling such conditions had one thing in common: knowing how to create bioweapons.

It was a forbidden craft, outlawed by international law, that was only passed down in the shadows. Without knowledge of such a thing, there was no way Se-Hoon could have separated Nicholas and the Golden Origin Armor so flawlessly.

And that means Se-Hoon, too, had also stepped into the world of taboo.

Hesitating, Meirin decided to be outright in the end. “Was this all self-taught?”

“Yes. I just naturally picked it up after seeing it a few times.”

Despite the question being abrupt and without context, Se-Hoon immediately understood what she was implying and responded accordingly.

“...You can be really annoying sometimes, you know.”

“I hear that a lot.”

Se-Hoon’s shamelessness made Meirin just stare at him for a moment.

The craft of forging bioweapons wasn’t something that could be learned through watching alone—it was an area where experience mattered far more. If he hadn’t been taught, there were only two possibilities.

Either he had some kind of unique skill that allowed him to handle the craft instinctively, or he had been secretly studying it behind the scenes.

And based on what she had already gauged about his talents, Meirin leaned toward the second option. But she didn’t press the matter. At the end of the day, she was just speculating, and even if it turned out to be true, it didn’t matter to her.

If it’s him...

A thought surfaced in her mind, and she fell into deep contemplation.

“What do you think about a weapon so powerful that even an infant could kill a Perfect One with it?” she asked a moment later, having organized her thoughts.

It was an odd question, but Se-Hoon didn’t seem fazed. Instead, he narrowed his eyes and focused on the true intent behind her words.

“You’re talking about a powerful weapon that has no limits to its output.”

“That’s right.”

The stronger a weapon, the more limits it had. Physical capability, control skills, requirement of a specific type of mana, mastery over certain abilities—there were countless conditions that restricted the use of such powerful weapons.

And they existed to serve two purposes: ensuring the wielder could fully harness the weapon’s power and preventing the weapon from going out of control.

The more powerful and complex a weapon is, the harder it is to handle.

Imposing such restrictions was a widespread practice, and even weapons of identical make could be evaluated differently based on how well the restrictions were implemented.

On the flip side, weapons without those restrictions were often labeled as cursed objects. Because, more often than not, they led to disaster.

Nine out of ten times, their inexperienced wielders would die from recklessly trying to use it.

“It would definitely be dangerous. Weapons like that tend to have notorious reputations, and they’ve caused a lot of casualties over time.”

“...”

Meirin remained silent, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

Sensing that she was waiting for something more, Se-Hoon added, “But if forged properly, I think it would be different.”

“...Properly?”

“Yes. I believe the problem isn’t the lack of restrictions, but rather the incompetence of the blacksmiths forging them.”

People assumed that all weapons without restrictions were inherently dangerous—which wasn’t true, necessarily. It was just that most of them were poorly designed with terrible control mechanisms.

Regardless of its restrictions, a truly well-forged weapon should function as an extension of their wielder’s body, able to respond to their will as naturally as a limb.

Almost no one pursues such craftsmanship, though.

It wasn’t a matter of there being no blacksmiths that were skilled enough to do so; rather, there was just simply no real need. And more importantly, it was exponentially more difficult to achieve to boot.

Se-Hoon himself had only ever met one person who had stubbornly walked that path.

“...And?”

Prompted by Meirin, Se-Hoon looked at the very woman trying to carve out that thorny path and repeated the words he had said before his regression.

“In the end, weapons are only as evil as the ones wielding them.”

At those words, Meirin stared at him for a long time before finally looking away.

The scent of burning tobacco filled the room as she lit her cigarette, exhaling a thin trail of smoke.

“...You really are insane,” she murmured.

“Not as much as the Perfect Ones.”

“Hah. We’ll see about that.”

Just the fact he was casually comparing himself to the Perfect Ones of all people already made it crystal clear—he wasn’t normal either.

With a full grasp of what kind of person “Lee Se-Hoon” was, Meirin finally made her choice.

“I’m going to reject your offer to become your disciple.” She exhaled another puff of smoke. “The offer’s not too bad, but there’d be too many constraints if we made it official. It would just be a hassle.”

Through the drifting smoke, she met Se-Hoon’s gaze.

“You and I, we both walk dangerous paths. It’s better to cooperate without such unnecessary ties.”

“Hmm. And you think you can trust me?”

“You’ll have to make sure I can.”

Raising a hand, Meirin extended her index finger, where a translucent droplet of blood formed.

“This is a Blood Pact. A binding oath sealed with blood.”

“Sounds good.”

Having already seen the skill before, Se-Hoon nodded without skipping a beat and pricked his own index finger to let a single drop of blood form.

He pressed it against hers.

Swish-

The two droplets entwined, swirling together without fully merging. Then they thinned into a crimson thread, binding their fingers together.

“The conditions are to understand each other’s positions and cooperate without betrayal, as long as it doesn’t violate that understanding. And—”

“If either side acknowledges the other’s usefulness, we will renegotiate,” Se-Hoon finished himself, having cut off Meirin mid-declaration while locking eyes with her.

For a moment, Meirin just stared at him in silence, surprised by his unwavering determination. And after recovering, she smirked.

“Fine. We’ll do it that way.”

Woong!

The Blood Pact glowed crimson before seeping into their fingertips, disappearing beneath the skin. It settled deep within their hearts, blending seamlessly with their blood.

For now, it was indistinguishable from the rest of their bloodstream. But the moment either of them broke their oath, the Blood Pact would rip their heart apart from the inside.

Yet, despite the ruthless consequence, Se-Hoon didn’t feel the slightest bit of concern; he had no intention of breaking the agreement in the first place. What intrigued him was the Blood Pact itself.

Was this skill always this deeply connected?

Back when he had first become her disciple, he had also formed a Blood Pact. In his inexperienced state then, though, he hadn’t noticed anything unusual.

Now, however, he could. As their blood intertwined, fragmented information surfaced in his mind.

This is weird.... Master feels oddly... clean?

It wasn’t just a physical sensation—it felt like something deeper.

Maybe this reflects her health condition?

He wasn’t sure.

Meanwhile, as he tried to analyze the lingering traces of information, Meirin suddenly asked, “Have you ever received a blood transfusion from someone?”

“Huh? No, never.”

“...”

Her expression shifted subtly. A strange, conflicted look crossed her face before she sighed and scratched her cheek.

“...I knew you had a messy personal life, but I didn’t think you’d be indiscriminate with both gender and age.”

“...What?”

“Look, I’m not here to judge your lifestyle, but if you want to master Blood Arts, you might want to be a little more selective. You’d be surprised how much intimacy can affect synesthetic mindscapes—”

“Wait, hold on!” Utterly bewildered, Se-Hoon hurriedly interrupted her. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Hmm? Aren’t you living a wild, promiscuous life right now?”

“What?! Do I look like someone who would do that?”

At those words, Meirin silently stared at him. Her gaze clearly said, “Yeah. You do.”

Now he truly felt wronged.

“More importantly, why do you think that in the first place?”

He knew better than anyone that Meirin wasn’t the type to make baseless assumptions. If she was saying such a thing, there had to be a reason.

“...Because,” she finally began after a pause, looking at him with an odd expression. “There are traces of the souls of others mixed into yours.”

Visit freewe𝑏nov(e)l.𝗰𝐨𝐦 for the 𝑏est n𝘰vel reading experience