Regressing as the Reincarnated Bastard of the Sword Clan

Chapter 269

The trees that grew here were unlike those found anywhere else.

There were no lush, green leaves—only sharp, menacing thorns that defined their presence.

The atmosphere was haunting, but the cave nestled beneath the jagged cliff radiated an entirely different aura.

The icy chill emanating from within was nothing short of ominous, evoking the sensation of death itself.

It was a place where no living creature would dare tread, yet at the entrance of this foreboding cave stood a man, motionless as if carved from stone.

Flutter!

From the ash-gray sky, which seemed devoid of life itself, a lone black crow swooped down toward the man.

He raised his arm, allowing the crow to perch, and with practiced ease, he detached the small message tube tied to its thin, skeletal leg.

Caw!

The crow let out an unsettling cry as it hopped onto the man’s shoulder, watching intently as he read the message within the tube.

It almost seemed as though the bird, too, was reading its contents.

“Hm.”

The man finished reading the note and, without hesitation, stepped into the cave.

The darkness inside was so dense it seemed capable of swallowing light whole, and the treacherous path ahead appeared as perilous as a thorny road walked by a pilgrim in search of enlightenment.

Far within, a single weathered candlestick cast a faint, flickering light—the sole source of illumination in the oppressive darkness.

Beneath the light sat an ancient wooden plank and a moss-covered rock, aged beyond reckoning.

The candle’s glow barely reached a figure seated nearby, their posture rigid and their demeanor serene as though in deep meditation.

The man hesitated to interrupt the seated figure, holding his breath and keeping as quiet as possible.

It was a scene that resembled the sacred stillness of a pilgrim’s final moments of enlightenment.

There were no personal belongings, no makeshift bed of straw—nothing.

It was as if the figure had come here solely to attain ultimate understanding.

Hoo.

The meditating figure let out a deep exhale, signaling the end of their trance. Slowly, they opened their eyes.

“Second Apostle.”

The man knelt on one knee, his tone reverent as the air of tension finally began to ease.

“Speak.”

The Second Apostle’s voice, low and haunting, flowed like a viscous shadow, reverberating through the cave.

“The puppet has taken the bait,” the man reported.

“Has it now? Of course, it had no choice,” the Apostle replied, a faint, satisfied smile gracing his face as his elongated ears twitched slightly.

“Good. It seems our plans can move forward sooner than expected. Begin preparations—I’ll head to the branch shortly.”

“At your command.”

The man disappeared back into the darkness, his form dissolving as if swallowed by the shadows.

The Second Apostle, now alone, rose to his feet and turned his gaze toward the ancient wooden plank illuminated by the faint candlelight.

A faint smile curled at his lips.

***

Theo waited in the middle of the forest, a short distance from the cave he had stayed in the previous day.

Despite the harsh winds and snowstorms of the winter mountain range, which would have made waiting inside the cave far more reasonable, he had chosen to remain outside.

“So, you’ve been waiting out here? Admirable, truly.”

From within the blinding whiteness of the snowstorm, a figure emerged—a stunningly beautiful young girl who could only be Lodbrok.

The swirling snowflakes seemed to avoid her entirely, as if an invisible barrier protected her from the storm’s touch.

The sound of dry wood burning filled the space until Harald took a deep breath and finally began to speak.

“I have many children under my care.”

Theo already knew this. The Harald family’s prestige necessitated numerous heirs to continue its legacy.

Not all of them could have been taken hostage.

Kyle, Theo’s father, would have dismissed such a situation outright, demanding his children escape on their own.

Harald’s opening statement alone revealed the depth of his familial affection.

“But my true child is precious to me. None of those known to the public are my blood. I have only one trueborn child—my daughter.”

The revelation was surprising. While several of Harald’s children were publicly acknowledged and praised for their abilities, the idea that only one was his biological child was unexpected.

“I adopted the others for political reasons. I do not love them any less, but compared to her, they are not the same.”

Harald’s voice wavered, and his eyes glistened with unshed tears.

He truly loves her.

The phrase tough men are full of heart came to Theo’s mind.

As a northern warrior, Harald’s overflowing paternal love seemed even more striking.

“She is the child of my first and only love, my final trueborn. How could she not be my everything?”

Harald’s self-deprecating smile spoke volumes, and Theo could sense the pain buried deep within him.

She’s gone...

Theo could tell from the sorrow etched into Harald’s face.

Harald quickly composed himself and continued.

“She passed while giving birth to our daughter. Despite such tragedy, my little girl grew strong and resolute. She was my pride and joy....”

Crack.

The sound of Harald’s fist tightening reverberated through the cave. Blood dripped from his knuckles.

“But now, she is dying. Wasting away from some unknown illness, with no apparent cause.”

There was an unidentifiable anguish buried in Harald’s voice as he spoke.

“No healer, no priest could identify her affliction. No one across the entire world could save her.”

Harald paused to steady his breathing before continuing.

“That’s when the Holy Church of Light approached me.”

His tone turned bitter, and a faint madness flickered in his eyes.

“A young priest claimed to have received a divine oracle and came to me.”

“What was the oracle’s message?” Theo asked.

“‘The lamb’s life is now in our hands. I have come to you because only by joining with us can her life be saved.’”

Harald’s voice and expression mirrored the memory, as if he were reliving that moment.

Theo clenched his teeth in anger at the Church’s manipulation. A quick glance at Lodbrok revealed her scorn, her brow furrowing slightly.

They’re insane—using a child’s life to manipulate Harald like this.

“I didn’t believe them at first,” Harald admitted. “I was ready to kill them. But they promised to show me a miracle if I retrieved a specific material for them. Desperate, I did as they asked.”

Harald’s bloodshot eyes glinted with anger, the memory rekindling his rage.

No wonder he gave in.

It was an absurd proposition, yet desperation could drive even the strongest to abandon reason.

“I assume your daughter’s condition improved,” Theo said cautiously.

Harald’s fiery rage suddenly extinguished, leaving only a deep, oceanic sorrow in his gaze.

“Yes. It did.”