The Regressor Can Make Them All

Chapter 472

Swoosh-

The sound of waves slowly rolling in gently tickled Se-Hoon’s ears. It was that dreadful sound again, stirring him to open his eyes—which he wasn’t even sure when he had closed them—and look around.

He was on a tiny island, smaller than a sports field, made entirely of pure white sand. From where he stood, he could see the entire coastline with just a glance. And that allowed him to tell what stood out easily: the difference between the two shores.

The colors are different.

To the left of the island, crimson waters—as dark as blood—stained the sand. To the right, familiar black waves lapped calmly at the shore. The two oceans just churned and churned side by side, neither merging nor pushing the other away.

Se-Hoon just quietly took in the strange sight.

“The Black Sea… is it?” Walking up to the silent Se-Hoon, Meirin stopped by his side and looked at the shore with a strange expression. “I expected your synesthetic mindscape to show something unusual, but… this is beyond what I imagined.”

In truth, a synesthetic mindscape depicting a sea wasn’t all that strange. Rather, it was the fact that it was that sea, the infamous Black Sea. To modern humanity, a sea dyed in black was nothing short of ominous—something absolutely monstrous.

So for one’s depiction of their synesthetic mindscape to be such a thing… it was heretical even among heretics.

“The Abyss of Demons… no, this is an entirely different texture. I’d say it’s closer to the Black Sea. You must have liked that Six Great Demonic Realm quite a bit.”

“What nonsense…. That’s not it.”

“Then how would you explain all this?”

Se-Hoon fell silent, staring out at the pitch-black ocean in front of him—a world annihilated by the Destroyer of Sea. Meirin was right; what kind of reason could lead someone to possess a synesthetic mindscape like that?

I guess it is strange… to hold on to this memory so vividly.

Even if it was the last scene he saw before regressing, it was odd that he carried it so deeply in his heart. Accepting that, Se-Hoon mulled over the lingering question before giving the thought that simply rose to the surface as his answer.

“It’s probably… some kind of obsession.”

“Obsession?”

“Like a constant fear that the world might end up like this, anytime, because of the Demon Force.”

To Se-Hoon, what was a vague and even far-fetched future… was all too real, having experienced it firsthand. Perhaps that was why he couldn’t forget the ruined world. Perhaps he conjured it in his mind as a constant reminder.

“…That’s unexpected.”

Meirin looked at him with a curious glint in her eyes.

“You always act like you’ve got a plan for everything, so I figured you didn’t worry about stuff like this. You’re more fragile than you look.”

“Ahem. Let’s move on to the main topic.”

Seeing Se-Hoon clearly trying to avoid the subject, Meirin chuckled lightly and changed the topic.

“You probably already have a rough idea, but this world was created by the fusion of your and my synesthetic mindscapes. To exaggerate a little, you could say we’ve temporarily merged into one.”

They were experimenting with the unknown, where one misstep could affect each other’s synesthetic mindscape. And yet, they were both unconcerned. After all, they both had already refined their souls and bodies through Soul Honing and the Demonic Blood Arts. Their mental fortitude could rival that of the Perfect Ones and Harbingers of Destruction.

“But as you can see, we’re both still maintaining full self-awareness. Partly because we’re strong-willed—but mostly thanks to this guy.”

Noticing Merin nudging the sand underneath her feet with her heel, Se-Hoon looked down at the island.

“…Hmm. This is Celestial Night, isn’t it?”

“That’s right.”

The tiny island that remained vividly distinct, untouched by either sea, was none other than the half of Celestial Night—the Soul Sword—that had been infused into Doppelganger.

“So if it’s here… you’ve managed to embed Celestial Night inside your body?”

“Glad that I don’t have to explain every little thing to you.”

Getting confirmation, Se-Hoon narrowed his eyes. It wasn’t just any weapon—it was the Celestial Night. And Meirin had embedded it into her body without hesitation? Sure, she could have pulled it off without much issue, but for anyone else, it could’ve easily caused psychological collapse just by allowing it to scrape their synesthetic mindscape.

She must’ve trusted that she could handle it… but even with that in mind, this is completely reckless.

It was as if she didn’t care what happened to her body so long as she reached her goal. That unchanged recklessness was just like before, making Se-Hoon frown with disapproval.

“Anyway, that’s the basic explanation. Let’s get to the forging part.” Pulling a silver cigarette case from her coat, Meirin lit one and took a draw before calmly continuing. “My forging technique uses blood—and the soul within—as a medium. If I were to compare it to a human, I’m essentially giving a heart to heartless things and making them live.”

“…”

“It’s such a groundbreaking technique that with it, I forged weapons up to Legendary tier with ease. But no matter what I did, I couldn’t reach above that.”

Tapping her cigarette, Meirin recalled all the countless times she had endured trial and error.

“At first, I thought it was just a lack of skill and experience. However, the more I failed, the more I understood that this was a distinct issue.”

If it were merely her limitations, she would have seen improvement—or at least deterioration—through repeated attempts. But time after time, her failures always hit the same exact ceiling.

“That’s when I realized. Something invisible is interfering with my forging.”

At last, she had pinpointed the cause. But the real challenge began after that. To reach the realm of Mythical, Meirin had used every method at her disposal—and still failed. Yet, through all of that, she never once figured out just what was restricting her forging.

“In cases like this, there are usually two explanations: either I missed something, or I took the wrong path from the beginning.”

If it was the latter and she had gotten it wrong from the start… then where had things gone awry? The answer to that, Meirin had a guess.

“As I said before, the core of my forging lies in using the blood and soul contained within. If it’s a pure soul, untouched by anything else, it can create near-infinite potential.”

“…”

“But my soul has hit a wall at the Mythical tier. Meaning…”

“Something has tainted your soul.” Finishing her story, Se-Hoon stared at her, his face serious. “Is that the conclusion you’ve come to?”

“It is.”

Seeing her nodding, Se-Hoon’s expression twisted in disbelief.

Master accepting someone into her synesthetic mindscape…? Is that even possible?

Even he, her sole disciple, had never gotten that close. So who could it have been?

If something like that is possible…

It’d have to be a presence that didn’t feel quite like another person—but still held deep influence. It would have to be a vague, abstract… entity?

Se-Hoon’s eyes widened.

Wait a second… Don’t tell me…

It sounded insane, but if that was the culprit, Meirin might really have accepted it without even realizing.

Meeting her gaze again, Se-Hoon opened his mouth to ask—but she spoke first.

“What you’re guessing is probably correct.”

It was as if she’d read his mind.

Exhaling a stream of smoke, Meirin calmly said, “The one that tainted my soul… is the very being we all—me, you, and all of humanity—absorbed through the Towers of Heroes and the Abyss of Demons: the world itself.”

Se-Hoon’s face froze. The world? She was blaming the Golden Ring itself? Hearing his guess confirmed, which he had never even considered the possibility of before, left him stunned.

…It’s not entirely absurd either.

In the first place, those who conquered the Towers of Heroes received immense power from the Golden Ring and had their wishes fulfilled—becoming one with it at the end. That was, in a way, a process of being consumed by the world.

If it could do that, then it wasn’t impossible that the Golden Ring could have tainted Meirin’s soul with itself.

But if that’s true… then how does she plan to purify her blood and soul?

Everything—the Towers of Heroes, the Abyss of Demons, the system, magic, even her skills—came from the Golden Ring. How could she separate herself from it?

Just as he had that question, Meirin lit another cigarette and gave him the answer as if responding to the unspoken.

“To purify my soul, I must escape the world’s influence—to become a normal human again. However, doing so would mean losing my ability to forge weapons like this.”

“Hmm… that makes sense.”

“The moment I realized that, I was furious. But…the more I thought about it, the more ideas that came up in my mind.”

She exhaled another puff of white smoke and turned to Se-Hoon.

“What if I overcame the contradiction… through contradiction itself?”

To overcome contradiction with contradiction…? Not understanding, Se-Hoon frowned.

“…What exactly do you mean by that?”

“First, I’ll extract the traces of the world from within me. That’ll weaken me, sure, and my synesthetic mindscape will destabilize.”

She pointed at Se-Hoon’s synesthetic mindscape, the dark ocean meeting the red.

“That’s where you come in. You will exert pressure on my mental realm, pushing it to the verge of survival and forcing it to stabilize through instinct. That way, I’ll just barely be able to maintain the balance long enough to remove the world’s traces.”

“…Alright. But what will you do after purging it?”

“I’m going to use this environment to create a contradiction.”

Currently, their synesthetic mindscapes were merged with Celestial Night at the center—in other words, she would be able to draw on Se-Hoon’s power for a brief moment even if hers vanished.

“So in short… you’re planning to bypass the world using me.”

“Exactly.”

“…”

Having heard everything, Se-Hoon’s expression twisted into something unreadable. He had wanted to dismiss her plan initially, since it appeared too fragile. However, upon further reflection, he had to admit its potential.

The world itself had always been full of loopholes, and with Meirin’s Demonic Blood Art, there really was a genuine chance she could finish forging before the world noticed the contradiction and tore everything apart.

But the problem is…

Se-Hoon couldn’t help but wonder if Meirin had truly considered the consequences—although he knew full well what her answer would be. Yet despite that, he asked anyway.

“Do you understand what’ll happen to you after forging that weapon?”

“Well, I’ll probably die.”

Se-Hoon only allowed her to circumvent the world for the sake of activating the technique. The burden the technique placed on her body would remain the same, and her weakened state, stripped of all power, couldn’t possibly withstand the recoil.

Merin knew all that, but she still asked Se-Hoon to help her with the forging anyway.

“If you’re trusting in the Blessing of the Eternal…”

“There’s a good chance I won’t even be eligible to receive it once I’ve stepped outside the world’s domain. I know.”

“…And you’re still going to go through with it?”

She was practically throwing her life away—all for a weapon, for a single wish. Faced with the same reckless determination he remembered vividly, Se-Hoon made a pained expression.

“I have to. This is all I have left.” Meirin met his eyes with an unwavering gaze.

“…”

Silently staring into Meirin’s eyes, Se-Hoon felt as though she wasn’t seeing him at all, despite looking straight at him. Her eyes, cold and distant, looked the exact same as they had when she made her choice all those years ago.

Finding himself before them once again, Se-Hoon could only let out a bitter sigh.

“…Alright. We’ll just do it your way.”

There was nothing more to be said, so Se-Hoon backed off. Seeing that, Meirin also turned away and took a long drag from the cigarette in her hand.

Then, by the time it burned down to the filter, she exhaled slowly and looked straight ahead.

“Let’s begin.”

Placing her right hand over her chest, Meirin clenched her fingers and shoved them inward.

Crunch!

Blood spattered across the white sand, staining it a bright red. With her wildly beating heart inside her chest clenched in her hand, Meirin began in a low voice.

“Demonic Blood Art: Spirit-Origin Genesis.”

Drip-

Blood spilled from her abdomen, spreading out in all directions. In response, the red sea surged forward, pressing against the black sea and gradually enveloping the island.

Naturally, the black sea stirred as if preparing to resist—but Se-Hoon took hold of his synesthetic mindscape before it could react.

Woong-

A concentric world layered in rings unfolded: white island, red sea, black sea. Standing in the very center, Meirin began extracting the fragments embedded deep within her soul.

Swoosh-

Golden shards slowly rose from beneath the red sea. Everything Meirin had received from the Tower of Heroes dispersed into the air little by little. And, at the same time, the red sea began to dissipate.

This is… worse than I expected.

She had only removed one-tenth of it so far, but her synesthetic mindscape was already shaking and on the verge of collapse. However, just as the creeping dread crossed her face, the black sea stirred.

Swoosh-

The black sea slowly surged inward toward the island, pressing in from all sides. Unable to resist, the red sea concentrated closer to the center, darkening it once again—and restoring stability to Meirin’s synesthetic mindscape.

…I wouldn’t have even been able to try without him.

Reassured that she’d made the right call in bringing Se-Hoon in, Meirin continued purifying her soul.

She’d extracted a golden shard, Se-Hoon would move the black sea, and then the red sea would concentrate and stabilize. With every repetition, the red sea receded more and more until it passed the horizon. Over half was gone now, and two-thirds of the island had already sunk into the surrounding sea.

She’s trying to inject her purified soul into Celestial Night to forge Doppelganger’s weapon…

Just like how Se-Hoon once used the Demonic Blood Art to forge a Soul Weapon, Meirin was doing something similar—except it would create a permanent weapon and the blacksmith would die.

How is she not scared at all?

Just why was she so willing to sacrifice her power, her enlightenment, and even her life in order to complete the weapon? Se-Hoon found it hard to stomach such madness, especially because he himself was helping.

Feeling a myriad of complicated emotions, Se-Hoon silently continued helping despite them, and soon, Meirin had removed half of the golden fragments.

“I do have one question, though,” Meirin suddenly said, taking a steady breath. “Why are you helping me?”

“…You’re seriously asking me that now?”

Unable to believe his ears, Se-Hoon shot her a baffled look.

However, Meirin wasn’t fazed.

“Now’s the only time I can ask.”

Once the forging was done, she’d die. If they were going to have this kind of meaningless conversation, it had to be now.

Realizing that too, Se-Hoon looked at her in disbelief, but Meirin ignored him.

“At first, I thought you were interested in my techniques. After all, you’re also a soul-based blacksmith like me.”

“…”

“But you never once asked about my techniques. You didn’t even seem that interested in my forging itself. The only thing you did show any interest in…”

She hesitated.

“…was me.”

Not the weapon, not the process—but the person. At first, Meirin had suspected something cliché like romantic interest. But then that didn’t explain how indifferent he’d seemed to the idea of her dying just now.

Just what is this guy…

Whose reflection was he seeing in her? What made him care so much—enough to help her without hesitation? As she awaited his answer, Se-Hoon stared out at the shrinking red sea, lost in thought.

What should I say?

It would’ve been easy to give an answer she’d accept. He could talk about her from the previous timeline—but as if she were another person—and say her actions had left a mark on him. That would’ve been a neat explanation. She would have nodded, understood, and moved on.

But Se-Hoon couldn’t bring himself to say it. Despite knowing that.

Didn’t she say this might be the last time…?

Although he hadn’t said anything earlier, Se-Hoon had zero intention of letting Meirin die. He had another method prepared already.

But if, by some slim chance, that method failed. If she still ended up dying like before… then perhaps it really might be his last moment with her.

“…Because you’re my master.”

So he said it.

“…Master? Me?”

“Yes.”

Meirin frowned. Sure, she’d posed as a professor while infiltrating Babel, but that wasn’t enough for a disciple-master relationship.

Puzzled by the unfamiliar title, she turned fully toward him.

And upon meeting his gaze, Se-Hoon told her his life’s greatest secret.

“Actually, I’m your disciple from the future.”