A still silence filled the study, and the weight of it pressed heavy on my shoulders. Father's gaze seemed to say:
—You think you are up to that?
I answered with my own eyes.
—Yes. I am.
"The North is festering from within. It walks a slow path toward decay. This cannot go on. The rotten parts must be cut away. Otherwise, we all go down together."
I spoke without hesitation—words that should never be uttered before the Grand Duke of the North.
The North, and mutual destruction.
At those words, Father's eyes narrowed, and a dreadful aura erupted from him—one that could crumble even the Snowpeaks.
HISSSS—
A pressure so heavy that even standing was a struggle. Goosebumps bristled across my arms and legs, and cold sweat ran down my spine.
I couldn't breathe. Every instinct screamed at me to drop to my knees and beg forgiveness.
My strength was draining in real time. This was no joke—a Grand Master could kill a person with pressure alone.
Highly compressed frigid mana sent the study's temperature plummeting at an exponential rate, and my breath came out in white wisps.
But I did not falter in my stance, did not close my eyes, did not look away. I simply stood straight.
If the rot is not cut out starting now, the North will fall. After the North collapses, the continent will be invaded in sequence, and that leads directly to the extinction of humanity.
I will never let that happen. Never again will I stand by and watch, powerless.
Not humanity's extinction. Not the North's destruction.
Not the deaths of those I hold dear.
How much time passed?
Father slowly closed his eyes.
The pressure eased.
My airways opened a little.
But the tension remained.
What would Father say to this sudden proposal of mine?
I had no intention of backing down no matter what he said, but still...... if he believed in his son, I'd be glad.
At that moment.
"Two months from now. The Golden Star Tournament will be held. Win there, and I will consider it."
"......!"
The Golden Star Tournament. A martial arts competition held once every four years in the northern capital, Seiren.
Only northerners aged thirty or younger could enter, and the winner earned the right to join the [Platinum Knight Order]—the strongest knight order in the North.
Naturally, it was a stage where promising young Knights showcased themselves, and winning was several times harder than simply earning the qualifications of a Knight.
What Father's words really meant was this:
—Will you still cling to this reckless bravado?
The me before the regression would have tucked tail and run. Obviously. Unable to even manifest Aura—what confidence could I have had? Unless public humiliation were my hobby.
But.
I smiled gently.
Not from recklessness, but from certainty.
"I'll win and come back. Ah, and regarding Inspectorate duties until the Tournament......"
"I heard you. Now go."
"Yes, sir!"
I bowed my head respectfully to Father. A great many words hovered on the tip of my tongue, but I etched the clearest sentence into my heart.
'Thank you, Father.'
In response, Father answered in a flat voice.
"Clean the blood off first."
Oh, right. I'd come straight from killing Yoen Hashman without even thinking about how I looked. Damn, I should've washed up first.
I hurried out of the Lord's study.
***
The moment I stepped out of the study, a familiar face greeted me. Curly hair, a round and friendly face—a middle-aged man who radiated warmth.
"......Roman?"
"Yes, Young Master. Are you all right?"
Roman was the dedicated servant and head butler who'd looked after me since I was very young. With Mother having passed away early and Father being cold and distant, Roman had filled that void.
'He's practically family.'
But.
I hadn't been a good family to him.
The day countless demonic beasts ravaged the territory. The day the North fell. Even the Karsen grand mansion, that iron fortress, had crumbled.
At the time, I'd been hiding behind an activated defensive artifact, too terrified of the demonic beasts to move. Roman had thrown himself at the beasts to buy me time to escape.
—Young Master! Now! Run!
He wasn't even a soldier, but he'd been brave. I was nothing but a coward. The brave one was torn apart and killed by the demonic beasts, and the coward survived in disgrace.
And now.
Roman placed a hand over his chest in relief and spoke.
"I heard from the Inspectorate agents. They said there was a fierce battle with a wanted fugitive at Drunken Dream Wildflower. I was truly worried."
"......"
Damn it, Roman. I was never someone who deserved your worry. The concern cut deep enough to ache, so I fought down the surge of emotion and spoke.
"As you can see, I'm fine. Let's head to my room."
A bit awkwardly.
I walked with a grin on my face.
Roman scurried along behind me.
Watching him, I made a vow. Never again will I let you sacrifice yourself. As I walked on—
"Sion? I heard there was a fight at Drunken Dream Wildflower. You look fine?"
A blond man with a goatee curled his lips into a thin smile and addressed me. I knew him. Guseto Ul Daikah.
Second son of the Daikah count family, and one of the human traitors who would lead the North to its ruin.
"What do you want, Guto?"
"......It's not Guto. It's Guseto. I hear you joined the Inspectorate and already scored an achievement? That's really impressive, Sion. I always knew you had it in you."
"Get to the point."
His brow creased at my cold reply. Before the regression, I'd fallen for his manipulation and indulged in all sorts of pleasures with him. In other words, we'd been fairly close.
I'd genuinely thought he was my friend. In truth, he'd only pretended to cheer me on while stoking my recklessness—pretended to console me while planting insecurity and inferiority. Thinking about it now made my blood boil.
"So impatient~"
He sidled up to me naturally. Then leaned in and whispered into my ear. Truly revolting.
"Tonight. Come to our private room. I'll show you something good."
"No need. I'll be busy for a while."
"What?"
He seemed surprised by my refusal. It must have been the first time. But my interest right now wasn't in any of that. It was his neck.
However.
Unfortunately, going after him now was premature, so I spun on my heel.
"Well, I'm off. Guto."
"No. It's not Guto, it's......"
I walked away without even hearing him out. Judging by the grumbling behind me, he was angry too, but so what?
No matter how much of a half-wit and failure of House Karsen I might be, I was from a grand ducal house, and he was from a count's house. And not just any grand ducal house. House Karsen was effectively a royal house that ruled the entirety of the North.
The me of this era simply hadn't realized it. House Karsen's standing was absolute. I would make full use of the family's prestige.
In the past, I hadn't been able to.
And that's why I'd lived as an outcast.
That aside.
'Why did I ever hang around someone like him?'
A bitter taste filled my mouth.
CREEEAK—
I opened my bedroom door. The me of yesterday must have opened this same door, but from my perspective as a regressor, it was the first time in ages.
"Wow."
A crystal chandelier on the ceiling.
Furniture crafted from fine ebony.
Silk curtains embroidered with gold.
And.
An ebony piano I'd loved since I was very young.
I nearly lost myself gazing at the room.
My room, forgotten for so long.
After the North fell, I couldn't escape the wretched life of a beggar. Whether it was the roadside, a mountain, or up in a tree—wherever I could rest my head, that was my bedroom. I washed my body with the raindrops falling from the sky.
Whenever I fell asleep, the fear of being ambushed by demonic beasts, demons, or bands of thieves kept me surviving on nothing but fitful naps.
Things got a bit better after I joined the Resistance, but it was an organization that pursued extreme efficiency, so I had to adapt to a rigorous communal life.
'That was its own kind of ordeal.'
I turned my head and surveyed the room. A luxurious, cozy space. Right, this was where I used to live. Another reason to save the world, added to the list.
On one wall, a family photograph hung in a frame carved from Karsen rosewood.
A lump rose in my throat.
The moment I saw the faces of Father, Mother, and my brothers in that photograph. The emotions I'd been suppressing climbed up my throat.
My heart had wavered when I saw Father. But. Not yet. Push it down. Now isn't the time.
"Roman, I'm going to wash up first."
"Ah, yes! Young Master."
I took off my bloodstained clothes. After finishing my shower, I changed into clean clothes and trudged over to stand before the full-length mirror.
I gazed quietly at the mirror.
My eyes met those of my still-youthful self.
"Everything's here."
I'd already checked by moving my body, but seeing myself whole in the mirror was something else entirely.
My right eye—once gouged out by a demonic beast's claws, forever hidden behind an eyepatch—sat perfectly in its socket.
My left shoulder—blown away by a dark mage's spell—was intact. Both legs, which had been prosthetics, were my own.
All I'd done was confirm through a mirror that my entire body was unharmed—yet I felt this grateful.
And that wasn't all.
Brilliant golden hair, supple skin, eyes that seemed to hold the abyss, bold eyebrows as if painted with a brush, a high straight nose, and a sharp jawline.
Good things I'd been born with. The spitting image of Father in his youth. No, perhaps I took after Mother halfway, too.
Just then, Roman spoke up from behind me.
"Young Master. You are truly handsome."
I whipped around to face him.
'Not exactly smooth with the flattery.'
When I stared at him, Roman hung his head, looking deflated. Seeing that, memories from before the regression surfaced.
......
......
Days full of regret flickered through my mind.
Back in these days, I'd been harsh with the servants.
Because I had no room in my heart.
'I'm truly sorry.'
He'd served me with genuine dedication.
Back then, I'd thought it was only natural.
I was his master.
And he was my servant.
But of course, Roman's loyalty was never a given. He was a capable servant—he could have gone anywhere and made a decent living.
"Roman."
"Yes, Young Master."
"I'm sorry for everything until now. And thank you, truly."
Roman tilted his head in confusion.
His expression said exactly this:
Did he eat something bad?
Or am I dreaming?
Regardless, I conveyed what I truly felt.
"From now on, I'll do better."
I'd considered showing it through actions rather than saying it aloud, but I deliberately put it into words. And not just for Roman. No matter who I met going forward, I intended to always voice my gratitude and my apologies.
Before the regression. The heartfelt words I'd never managed to convey were countless. I'd always put them off—later, in a better mood, a better setting, a better circumstance.
That "right day" never came.
And everyone I'd wanted to say them to was dead.
That's why, from now on, I won't be late.
The first step to living without regret is opening your mouth and speaking your heart. And the second is becoming strong enough to prevent things worth regretting.
Of course.
I can't be the only one who gets stronger.
No matter how exceptional the talent, there are clear limits to what one person can accomplish. Before the regression, even the finest heroes—the best of the best—had ultimately sought refuge in the Resistance.
Because none of them could stand against the demons' cunning alone.
So what I needed to do was clear.
[Organize an army capable of defeating the Demon King's forces.]
Generals skilled in strategy and tactics.
Magical engineers to develop new weapons.
Businessmen to secure war funds.
Administrators capable of efficient management.
Heroes to lead the front lines of war.
And to get there, the first steps.
1. Win the Golden Star Tournament.
2. Establish the Special Investigation Unit.
3. Set the North right.
First, I needed to become strong enough to win the Golden Star Tournament.
"Roman, go find everything I'm about to list."
Become the strongest among all Knights under thirty in two months? Absurd.
'If I weren't a regressor, that is.'
But right now, I possessed every piece of knowledge that humanity had painstakingly accumulated to survive as the last of its kind—and I'd already laid out a plan to put it all to use.
First, I'd sweep up every hidden treasure scattered across the North. Undiscovered ruins. Magic circles. Artifacts. I'd take every last one and put them to good use.
"What kind, sir? Just say the word."
"Sulfur. Oil. Torches."
Roman was a bit taken aback by my unexpected requests. But true to form as an excellent servant, the surprise was brief and his steps were swift.
Some time passed. Roman returned with everything I'd asked for. I packed it all into a bag and said:
"Thanks. I'll be out for a bit."
"......Young Master. Where are you going?"
My drastically changed demeanor had worried him, so I reassured him with an air of absolute calm.
"Just taking a little break."
The first hidden treasure I'd collect......
was, as luck would have it, inside the Karsen estate.