Professor Vance raised his hand.
"Begin!"
Leon Vermilion was depicted as the typical overpowered and highly intelligent protagonist as you would have seen in any other story.
On top of that, being a regressor, he knew what exactly would happen due to his actions and other things, which provided him with a seemingly unfair advantage.
However, that wasn't all.
What made him the protagonist is the technique he developed himself, in the later part of the novel.
Usually, noble offsprings inherit their family's hereditary techniques, so, being a commoner himself, he developed one for himself.
The Sky Piercing Slash.
In the battlefield, with just a single slash, he could cut through thousands of demons with ease.
When I transmigrated, the story had just started, entering into the later part of a major event, before the Great War.
So, he mustn't have developed the technique yet.
However, as I said he is a regressor.
And the story starts from his first regression after he fails to defeat the twelve demon kings.
So, currently he does have the knowledge of the sky piercing slash technique.
I know the name sounds a bit.....
But this fight would be interesting, as I braced myself.
Leon Vermilion Vs Magnus Loire and Lucy Harrington.
Magnus shot forward like an arrow, sword drawn, eyes locked onto his target.
At the same moment, Lucy raised her staff and started casting. Her lips moved quickly, golden sparks gathering at the tip of her weapon.
Leon didn't flinch. He stood still, then slowly drew his sword with one smooth motion. Calm. Controlled.
Just before Magnus reached him, Leon sidestepped. His blade moved like lightning, parrying the incoming strike with minimal effort. The impact sent a burst of mana through the ground, kicking up dust.
Then came Lucy's magic—three orbs of light, each aimed at Leon's blind spots.
Leon's sword shimmered. A faint layer of mana coated the blade as he swung, slicing through two of the orbs. The third exploded on impact with his shoulder, but he'd already reinforced the area with mana.
It didn't even leave a scratch.
But this wasn't one-sided.
Magnus didn't let up. He kept the pressure on, slashing from different angles, his footwork steady. Every strike was precise, using the basics of his family's sword style.
Leon blocked them all. Smooth and clean.
He was dominating the flow, but just slightly.
Lucy didn't stop either. She adjusted her position constantly, casting basic-level spells one after another—flame shots, wind cutters, and binding threads. All low-tier, but her control was excellent. She timed her attacks so Leon had no choice but to split his attention.
It became a rhythm. Magnus attacked from the front while Lucy launched spells from a distance.
Leon, with his sword and pure footwork, danced between them.
I watched from the sidelines, almost holding my breath.
This wasn't how the novel described it.
Leon was supposed to thrash them both easily. But now… he was holding his ground, yes—but so were they.
It wasn't a stomp.
It was a real fight.
Minute after minute passed, and the tension only grew. The clang of metal, the boom of spells hitting the barrier around the training field, the sound of feet grinding against the dirt—it was all real. All intense.
Magnus changed his style midway, switching to shorter strikes with sudden bursts. Lucy, too, changed her spells to confuse Leon—illusionary doubles, faint glows that misled the eye.
Leon adapted each time, but it was clear now—he wasn't pushing himself too far. He was trying to conserve energy. Relying only on his sword and basic mana reinforcement.
Maybe he didn't want to reveal the Sky Piercing Slash yet.
Or maybe… he couldn't use it fully in this restricted battle.
Still, his control was flawless. He redirected spells using the flat of his blade, dodged without wasting movement, and never let Magnus land a clean hit.
But little by little, the edge began to dull.
Leon's breath started to grow heavier. His swings were still strong, but a half-second slower. His movements just a bit less sharp.
Magnus noticed it too.
He pressed in, feinting left and attacking right. Leon blocked, but the force made him stumble back slightly.
Lucy followed up with a barrage of glowing arrows. Leon cut down three, but the fourth grazed his side.
For the first time, blood touched the field.
The students around us gasped.
Leon didn't stop. He wiped the blood with the back of his hand and stepped forward again.
He was still smiling. Not the smug, arrogant smile you'd expect—but a calm one.
Like he was enjoying the challenge.
Like this was the fight he didn't know he needed.
But fatigue was catching up.
Magnus's strikes were faster now, sharper. Lucy's timing had become flawless, her spells landing almost simultaneously with Magnus's sword swings.
Leon held out.
He parried.
He deflected.
He dodged.
But then—
A single delayed spell from Lucy, hidden behind a smoke burst.
Leon miscalculated. His step faltered.
Magnus saw the opening and delivered a clean hit across Leon's chest—not deep, but enough to push him to the ground.
Leon hit the floor, rolled, and stopped on one knee. His sword dug into the dirt for support.
Professor Vance raised his hand again.
"Enough!"
The match was over.
Silence.
Even Lucy and Magnus seemed stunned.
Leon exhaled deeply, then stood with effort, brushing the dust from his uniform.
"I lost," he said calmly.
No bitterness.
No excuses.
Just acceptance.
And somehow, that made him shine even brighter.
On the other hand, I stood there with my mouth open.
"What the fuck ...just happened?"
***
In the deepest layers of the abandoned dungeon, the air was cold and heavy. The walls were made of aged stone, slick with moisture, and the only sound was the steady echo of footsteps—slow, deliberate, unhurried.
Professor Xavier walked alone.
His eyes scanned the surroundings calmly, but sharply, missing nothing. The shattered remains of old traps, destroyed summoning circles, and worn-out glyphs lay scattered, yet all of them were irrelevant to him. His attention wasn't on what was there.
It was on what wasn't.
No corpses. No scorch marks. No blood.
No signs of a fight.
And that, in itself, told him everything.
Whoever had been here… had taken great care to erase every trace. A clean-up of this level required precision, planning—and fear.
Xavier didn't say a word. He reached a point where the corridor split into three tunnels. Without hesitation, he turned to the one on the right. His instincts guided him deeper into the dark.
The light crystal in his hand barely lit more than a few feet ahead, but he didn't need it. His senses were sharp, honed over decades of life-and-death battles.
He stepped over a cracked rune—purposely broken to avoid triggering—and stopped.
There it was.
Faint. Barely there.
A sliver of mana lingering in the air.
Not natural mana. It was too refined.
It had been used here. Recently.
Xavier crouched down and placed his fingers against the stone floor. His eyes narrowed.
There had been a battle here—brief, precise, and decisive. The kind of fight that ends before anyone even realizes it began.
But again… no evidence. No bodies. No residue beyond this fading trace.
He stood up and looked further into the tunnel. It led to a chamber sealed long ago, one that had once served as a prison for something—or someone.
It was empty now.
Xavier chuckled under his breath. A low, knowing sound.
"Well," he murmured to himself, "long time no see."
His voice echoed off the dungeon walls, then faded into the silence once more.
He turned his back to the chamber and walked away. There was nothing more to find.
But in his mind, the picture was already forming.
Someone had returned.
And the game… had started again.
********************************
A/N :
Please comment down on the chapter.
Next chapter : The Unorthodox
*****************************