A Dragonslayer’s Peerless Regression

Chapter 41

Cliff was flustered by Zeke’s request.

“Employment…? Are you saying you want to work at our trading company?”

Zeke responded to Cliff.

“If you’ve established dealings with the First Princess, then you must have a branch on the Southern Continent. I need a false identity that will allow me to travel there.”

Cliff, being meticulous in nature, carefully considered whether Zeke’s request violated the terms of their agreement.

“You just need me to create a false identity for you?”

“I’d also like information on regular transportation routes to the South and a safehouse there, similar to the one here, which can be used on-site. Preferably, it should double as a warehouse large enough to store cargo.”

Although it wasn’t an easy task, it was still within the capabilities of the Reinhardt Trading Company.

Cliff nodded.

“Understood.”

“Good. I’ll discuss the other two matters later. There’s no time limit on the requests, after all.”

With that, Zeke picked up one of the papers Cliff had brought and jotted something down quickly.

He then handed it over to Cliff.

“If the princess takes the medicine regularly for about two months, she should recover soon. Given her youth, she might even recover faster.”

Cliff reached out with trembling hands to take the document.

At that moment, Zeke firmly held onto the paper.

“As stated in the contract, remember that this treatment is strictly for Princess Melissa. If you give it to anyone else, I won’t let it slide.”

Cliff nodded earnestly.

“Understood.”

Only then did Zeke release the document to him.

Cliff quickly stood up from his seat.

“I deeply apologize for today’s events. I will formally invite you soon to express my apologies.”

“Forget about that. Just make sure you handle my requests properly. And arrange for a horse for me to leave.”

Cliff nodded and left the room first.

After he left, Zeke turned to the Gorka Ranger who had been standing guard over him.

Speaking in the Gorkan tongue, he addressed the ranger.

“You’ve got some skills. When does your contract with Cliff end? If it’s not too long, I might want to make a deal with you myself.”

The ranger was visibly surprised at hearing Zeke speak Gorkan.

“Where did you learn Gorkan?”

“I picked it up here and there.”

“Does the Draker Household teach this as well?”

“Not really… let’s just call it a hobby.”

Having traveled across the continent extensively in his past life, Zeke had acquired various languages, even if he hadn’t intended to.

At that moment, another Gorka Ranger entered and gestured toward Zeke.

Following the rangers, Zeke left the warehouse.

The ranger handed a horse to Zeke.

“Take this and ride it.”

Zeke effortlessly leapt onto the horse, then turned to the rangers.

“Hey!”

From atop the horse, Zeke tossed something toward the rangers.

“Consider this a thank-you for kidnapping me.”

The startled rangers instinctively caught the object. When they looked at it, they realized it was the kukri knives they had been wearing. Zeke had taken their symbolic weapons without them noticing and thrown them back.

The kukri knife was more than just a weapon; it was a symbol of a Gorka Ranger’s very life. For Zeke to have taken them so easily meant he could have subdued them at any time.

Seeing the rangers’ shocked expressions, Zeke grinned.

“What I said earlier—I meant it. Get in touch anytime. Yah!”

With that, Zeke spurred the horse forward, leaving the warehouse and heading back to the mansion.

* * *

After his meeting with Cliff, Zeke spent some quiet time adjusting to life in Valhalla.

Unlike the academy, Valhalla allowed students to attend classes at their convenience. As long as the mandatory core courses were completed, the rest was left to the students’ discretion.

Zeke, however, was less interested in the classes and more focused on gathering talented individuals within Valhalla. With Diego being the exception, he began searching for classes where the other Five-Star Knights might be found.

Unfortunately, the timing wasn’t on his side.

Jeffric Solma, the Knight of Smoke, was in his final year and currently away on a field internship. Bishop Castick, the Knight of Silence, had already graduated and was now serving in the Thebea Kingdom’s knighthood.

The last of the Five-Star Knights, Aster Alladof, the Knight of Illusion, was still a student. However, he had only registered for classes and never showed up to any of them.

Left with no other choice, Zeke decided to approach Diego Villa, the Knight of Rhythm, with whom he already had some familiarity.

“Yo, bro. Welcome to our club.”

That’s how Zeke ended up visiting the Southern Fusion New Age Music Research Club, where Diego was the president.

“Whoa, it’s really Zeke Draker!”

“Amazing!”

The rumors about Zeke had already spread throughout Valhalla, so the club members couldn’t hide their curiosity as they stared at him.

After calming the members down, Diego announced that the club would play music they had created themselves for Zeke.

Although Zeke had no interest or knowledge of music, he endured it and listened intently to the performances of Diego and the club members.

‘What on earth is that noise?’

Having been a Southern hitman in his previous life, Zeke had been forced to listen to Southern music daily under Mechain’s boss, Don Juan, whether he liked it or not.

Thanks to his past, Zeke unintentionally knew quite a bit about Southern music.

To Zeke, whose ears were attuned to traditional Southern rhythms, Diego’s performance sounded far from impressive.

“Tsk!”

After finishing the performance, Diego walked over to Zeke with a grin.

“Hey, bro! How was our performance?”

Zeke clicked his tongue as he looked at Diego.

“Diego, have you even properly listened to Southern music before?”

“What? Hey, bro! I’m from the South! I’m full of South Soul!”

“South Soul, my foot. Southern rhythms are fundamentally… Ah, forget it, move over.”

Shaking his head, Zeke abruptly stood up and sat down in front of the Southern-style instrument Diego had been using.

Picking up the drumsticks next to him, Zeke began striking the drum.

Dudududu!

Holding the drumsticks, Zeke produced a simple yet passionate rhythm.

Du! Dududu! Dududung!

“Wow! What a cool rhythm!”

As Zeke played his Southern-style rhythm, the other members grabbed their instruments and began adding melodies.

The rhythm, naturally compelling and lively, even inspired Diego to improvise lyrics and add vocals.

“Yo! I’m a Southern swordsman! You’re Central morons! And Northern guys are just fools!”

Before they knew it, a fusion of Southern rhythm and Central Continent melodies had taken shape, creating an entirely new piece of music.

Dudududung!

Zeke ended the rhythm, and the other members, immersed in the beat and their own contributions, were thoroughly captivated.

Diego was overwhelmed by a feeling he had never experienced before.

“What the…! Zeke, bro! You’re not just a genius at swordsmanship, but at music too, yo!”

The other club members also gazed at Zeke with admiration.

“He’s the god of rhythm.”
“This is going to blow up. It’s bound to be a hit.”

Zeke, who had only played a simple rhythm because Diego’s attempt was so terrible, was taken aback by the enthusiastic reactions.

‘I feel like I’ve done something unnecessary.’

Sensing that lingering any longer might cause him trouble, Zeke quickly got up to leave.

Diego, however, clung to Zeke’s leg, refusing to let go.

“No, bro! A talent like you not doing music is a disaster for the continent! You have to do music!”

“Diego, why did you even come to Valhalla in the first place?”

“Bro, to bring South Soul to this barren Valhalla, of course!”

“…”

After finally shaking off Diego and the club members who were desperate to keep him, Zeke returned to the mansion.

“Whew, I almost got caught up in something ridiculous.”

Understood. Here is the text in plain formatting as requested:

Being skilled in many areas came with its own set of problems.

Zeke found himself smirking at the absurdity of almost being trapped by Diego while trying to recruit him. He resolved to refocus and dedicate himself to personal training.

He opened Terakan’s Secure Archive and retrieved the chants of the Dragon-Cutting Sword Technique.

“Hmm… No matter how many times I read this, the content is ridiculously difficult.”

The Elemental Sword had been similarly challenging, but Grandmaster Kysir had guided him step by step, leaving no concepts unclear for too long.

In contrast, the Dragon-Cutting Sword Technique was riddled with expressions that were incomprehensible.

“Circulate aura through the Microcosmic Orbit, open the blood vessels, and progress from the Minor Circulation to the Major Circulation… What does any of this even mean?”

Although the system translated the ancient Chronos language into the central common tongue, the expressions were so outdated that understanding them in modern terms was an uphill battle.

Zeke decided to set aside what he couldn’t understand for now and began practicing the basic forms of the sword technique.

Terakan Draker had originally based the Dragonslaying Art on the techniques of the Dragon-Cutting Sword Technique, so the foundations were similar.

“The Dragon-Cutting Sword Technique has far more movements and is significantly more complex. Terakan must have had a hard time refining this into the Dragonslaying Art.”

Using the Dragonslaying Art as a reference, Zeke worked through the individual forms of the Dragon-Cutting Sword Technique one by one.

The Dragonslaying Art, while featuring grand movements, was designed for combat against humans, making it practical for real-life application.

The Dragon-Cutting Sword Technique, on the other hand, was unmistakably designed for combat against dragons. Each strike and movement required the full exertion of one’s strength, as though intended to cut down a massive dragon in a single blow.

Zeke quickly grasped the forms of the Dragon-Cutting Sword Technique, which had been considered so difficult that even Terakan Draker had abandoned parts of it. He wielded his sword, committing the movements to muscle memory.

“From here… like this, turn and strike. Jump… then strike again.”

He incorporated an aura blade into his practice, synchronizing it with the forms.

However, Zeke overlooked an important aspect.

The Dragon-Cutting Sword Technique relied on generating aura from the lower dantian, circulating it through the body’s energy channels, and reinforcing the entire body to unleash immense power in a single strike.

Zeke, lacking a lower dantian, instead used Bahamut’s heart to generate Ether in his Ether Hall and converted it into aura for the sword technique.

For Zeke, who did not rely on the lower dantian or energy channels, many of the chants in the technique were essentially irrelevant.

The exceptional senses granted by his Divine Body naturally corrected the flow of the sword technique based purely on the forms, guiding him toward the correct execution.

Before he knew it, Zeke had not only mastered the forms of the Dragon-Cutting Sword Technique but had also intuitively grasped its application.

Whoosh!

The more he repeated the techniques, the sharper his sword became.

As Zeke swung the Dragon-Cutting Sword Technique, growing more proficient, he felt the faint presence of an elusive barrier.

“Could it be that I’m already sensing the wall of the Black Knight? That’s way too soon.”

It had not been long since he surpassed the wall of the Red Knight, so the idea of already encountering the wall of the Black Knight seemed absurd.

Zeke steadied himself and continued wielding his sword calmly.

Gradually, the Ether flowing from his Ether Hall focused more intensely on Bahamut.

Boom!

At the same time, Bahamut’s heart, sealed within Zeke’s Ether Hall, began to thrum.

As if synchronized with the Dragon-Cutting Sword Technique, Bahamut’s heart beat in unison with Zeke’s movements.

“What is this?”

The more he swung his sword, the stranger the sensation became.

His solar plexus thumped, and a part of his brain tingled faintly.

Even so, Zeke did not stop. He swung his sword again and again, unwilling to let go of the feeling.

Boom, boom, boom!

Bahamut’s heart pounded more intensely.

Then, all of a sudden, light erupted from the mark etched on Zeke’s solar plexus.

“What… what is this?”

In an instant, everything before Zeke’s eyes turned pitch black.

He had experienced this phenomenon before.

Although it clearly wasn’t happening in reality, it felt as vivid as the real world.

Zeke’s vision shifted.

He found himself in a vast, expansive cavern. His body curled up, he seemed to be asleep in the depths of an abyssal world.

At that moment, he sensed someone approaching him.

Emerging slowly from the deep abyss, Zeke opened his eyes.

A human, appearing as small as an ant.

A man cloaked in a hood that obscured his face looked at Zeke and spoke.

“Master of Dusk, Bahamut.”

It was then that Zeke realized he was no longer human but a dragon.

And as a dragon, he opened his mouth to speak to the human.

“Shaton Draker. How audacious. What brings you here?”

To Zeke’s astonishment, the human before him was none other than Shaton Draker, the King of Chronos and the one hailed as the Sword Star. Shaton spoke to Bahamut.

“Master of Dusk, I have a request for you.”

In response, Bahamut lowered his head toward Shaton.

The dragon’s overwhelming majesty, accompanied by an unrelenting and intense killing intent, bore down on Shaton.

“You dare to request something of me? Wretched human. If not for Chronos, I would have wiped out all of your kind long ago.”

Shaton replied to Bahamut without flinching.

“Master of Dusk, I understand your anger. That is why I must ask this of you.”

Shaton reached into his coat and pulled something out.

“The Dragon-Cutting Sword Technique—a technique I created to slay dragons. I wish for you to take this.”