Chapter 119
Chapter 119
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 119
Chapter Title: Back to the Village
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Ian wrapped up the move without a hitch this time too. Cecilia had lent a hand, and since he already had every piece of furniture placement memorized, there was no need to puzzle over where to put anything. It all came together pretty quickly.
Of course. This was one of the little joys of regression, after all.
"Hoo..."
He sank onto the living room sofa and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
The season hovering between spring and winter was still chilly, but not enough to snuff out the heat from his labor. He chugged some cold water and glanced at the massive TV.
The black screen looked like it could spit out a moon photo and a shooting star any second. But the TV stayed obedient, with only a mundane song drifting softly from the state-of-the-art speakers. No sign of Mozart's ghost or siren wails.
Proof that the timeline had snapped back perfectly. Ian leaned against the backrest and gazed up at the pristine white ceiling.
'...As expected from a god. A flawless rewind.'
He'd already confirmed everyone else's survival. Grandmother, Han Yu-na, Lee Seo-ah, Kim Yul, Kim I-seo, Albert, Benjamin, and the rest. Everyone he knew was living ordinary lives.
The only wrinkle was the vampires still kicking around, but that actually proved no one had tampered with the timeline. It seemed like only Earth's time had been rolled back.
'Gotta be satisfied that Eddie and that unicorn bastard are out of the picture.'
With that thought, Ian summoned the Hand of Recreation. The pristine grimoire usually hummed faintly whenever it settled into his grip, but not this time. It was utterly still and silent.
"..."
Leah had warned him the grimoire would be tricky to use for a while. He could still cast recreation magic three times a day, but gone were the days of spamming it like crazy. It would still perform at full capacity, sure, but the limitation chafed.
'For the price of summoning an Outer God and pulling off a regression? That's a bargain.'
Ian set the grimoire on the table and let out a deep breath. After a moment, he grabbed a cigarette and headed to the yard.
The bike parked in the corner was running its engine on its own to stave off battery drain. The noise was barely there—easy to ignore entirely if you weren't paying attention.
Cartel custom low-noise tuning was worth every penny.
Chiiiik.
He lit up, the cigarette clenched between his lips. The gray sky hung heavy, threatening snow or rain any second, but the cherry glowed bright.
He blew a plume of gray smoke toward the overcast heavens and leaned against the wall.
"...Feels kinda weird, though."
The world was back to normal. The Outer God masquerading as the moon was gone, and the real moon and sun had reclaimed their places. Only Ian held memories of that prior worldline—the one that had ended in ruin. If you wanted to get technical, he was basically a regressor now.
Well, not a true regressor if you nitpicked, but close enough to call him a regression errand boy or something.
Not that the title mattered.
Ian's identity wasn't as a regressor. He was a mage. Time rewinding and him being the sole keeper of the old world's memories changed nothing. He was still a mage.
"Hoo..."
Ian stubbed out the cigarette roughly and tossed it into his portable ashtray.
The thing was getting filthy. Time for a new one, probably.
Just a consumable anyway, and it'd served long enough. Nothing fancy to begin with.
'Come to think of it, the Cartel app had ashtrays for sale. Might grab one.'
Lost in thought, he headed back inside.
He decided to stop dwelling on the regression nonsense. Water under the bridge now. Time was flowing forward again, Leah had personally offed the Outer God, and there was no more reason to eye the moon warily. Time to face reality head-on.
Not that he was dropping his guard entirely. With an Outer God's power behind the rewind, who knew what side effects might crop up.
And if Laplace's head honcho caught wind of the regression, they might pull some scheme. Best to stay prepared.
'At this point... I could remake the Dying Hearing. Might as well start there.'
An alchemy item that neatly ignored regeneration abilities and shredded hearing.
He wasn't sure if the mage's ear was what gave it that punch. No control group to compare against.
But it was confirmed: using a mage's ear as material let it bypass regeneration. Handy to have one on standby for when it counted.
A skilled mage's corpse was a treasure in its own right. Eddie must've been the incarnation of a saint, giving generously in life and death alike.
Ian sent a mental thank-you his way, grabbed the essentials, and stepped out.
He pulled on his helmet, swung onto the bike, and it fired up the instant it registered his weight.
"To the workshop. Handle the gears yourself."
Jiiing.
The grips and seat warmed up in seconds. Ian smirked, rolled back the throttle, and eased off the clutch. Power surged, and the bike crept forward.
He rode it straight to the main road, then twisted the throttle wide open on the clear stretch. The bike shifted gears on its own to match his speed as he blasted toward the workshop, cold wind whipping his face.
He pulled up to the officetel soon enough, parked in the empty lot, and took the elevator to the workshop floor. The elevator ghost hit the button quietly and vanished.
Jiiing.
The elevator shot up and halted smoothly. Ian rubbed his stiff neck and pushed open the workshop door.
The room was pitch-black, curtains blotting out every scrap of light. He flicked on the lights with practiced ease, checked the tanks, tossed his helmet onto the sofa, and yanked open the fridge.
"Been a while since I last saw this mug."
Eddie's head sat there inside, skull cracked open.
Just like before, he sliced off an ear, plunged it into salt, and ordered the security ghost to fetch bugs. The ghost somersaulted off to purge the officetel of insects.
This was familiar alchemy—no need to consult the grimoire for materials.
Ian neatly arrayed the ingredients on the workbench and sprawled on the sofa, flipping through the grimoire while the ear brined.
'What's the top item you can craft with "the Great One" stuff?'
Thanks to Leah, he knew "the Great One" meant Outer Gods.
But Outer Gods weren't easy prey. You had to twist and contort your body, pray like a maniac to the heavens, and even then, you might not get any body parts from them. No guarantees.
That made their flesh insanely rare.
And the payoff? Items with godlike power.
Every last one was absurdly overpowered.
The Hourglass of Time went without saying. A one-shot regression device, basically. Just own it, and no matter what went down, one click sent you back a week.
The Brooch of Defiance was milder by comparison, but ignoring death three times? No slouch there. Pair it with an Outer Sea summon, and you could call top-tier predators at zero cost. Synergy made it arguably better than the hourglass.
The Lullaby? Straight-up broken. Forced any being to suicide. The key was that "any"—if it worked literally on anything, you could delete untouchable foes. Outer Gods included.
'One on Leah's level might resist, but most aren't. Hell, with this, I could've smoked the moon easy.'
Not just the moon. Most Outer Gods dumb enough to poke their heads toward Earth? Lullaby one-shot. The catch: unknown range, and hard to beam the song only at the target. Botch it, and everyone nearby mass-suicides.
Still, the effect was too juicy to ignore. Hell, you could use it for crowd control—hardly a pure downside.
Plenty more alchemy items used Great One flesh, but they all demanded equally insane extras. Nothing feasible right now.
"...Hmm."
On a whim, Ian searched meteorites on the Cartel app. Saw the price soar past billions and chucked his phone.
Apparently, their occult value jacked the cost sky-high. He'd heard astrologers snapped them up like candy, but damn, not this bad.
'Could afford it with some gigs, but the blood loss... Too steep for impulse buys.'
Supply couldn't keep up with demand—no helping it. Ian sighed heavily and flopped onto the sofa.
'Brooch is the most doable... Nah, let's browse a bit more.'
No point rushing with such rare mats. Play it smart.
He pored over the grimoire for hours, finally closing it as night fell, tabling the rest for later.
Time flew, and the day of the vampire commission dawned. Ian stood alone at the tunnel entrance, same as before, chain-smoking.
"..."
Evil spirits swarmed inside. A few beckoned him mockingly.
He didn't bite. His mental barriers were too thick for mere evil spirits.
"Hoo..."
Early March morning.
Light snow dusted the tunnel mouth leading to the village—not much, but enough to whiten the road.
No footprints anywhere. Zero signs of anyone passing through.
Music to Ian's ears. He ground out his cigarette in the new ashtray, flashed a grin, and shoved his hands in his pockets.
"Let's go."
He stepped slowly toward the tunnel.
No companions in tow. He hadn't called any.
Not much choice there. It sucked breaking promises to tag along before, but recent events proved the mentally fragile were dead weight against mind control.
Telepathy wasn't outright domination, but if a weak mind leaked intel to vampires, better solo. Save teammates for foes without mental tricks.
Outer God psy-attacks and vampire telepathy probably didn't demand the same barrier strength. Some could resist, sure.
But "some" wasn't "all." And with the moon arc kicking off right here, Ian had to play it cautious this time. Solo it was.
No eyes on him, at least. Felt nice and easy.