The Swordsmanship Prodigy Who Devoured Immortality After Regression - Chapter 1

How many times was it now?

Faint memories surfaced.

Havel Vanpelion.

The man murmured his name as if to anchor himself and raised his head.

Once, he had been called the Swordmaster.

Once, he had been the head of one of the three great

families tasked with protecting the imperial palace.
But here, he was nothing.

The one who erased the capital and imperial palace of the Unified Empire of Arahan from the map in an instant:

The Cataclysm.

The Demonic Palace.

At least, here in this place, he was nothing more than that.

“I should never have entered this place.”

Havel’s gaze shifted downward. Beneath his feet lay countless corpses, all of whom had been alive mere moments ago.

And then, he remembered.

“The 64th time.”

That was the number of his regressions.

As the head of one of the three great families, Havel had entered the Demonic Palace to reclaim the empire’s capital.

Only to find himself trapped in this infernal labyrinth from which no one could escape—not even through death.

The Demonic Palace was an insidious disaster, a calamity that defied metaphor or difficulty rankings.

Once you entered, you were bound by its rules—unable to leave. There were only two ways out:
To clear the palace or to die.

Havel let out a long, weary sigh.

On the day everyone else had perished, and he alone survived,
he had defeated the master of the fourth floor and received a reward.

No—a curse: regression.

Thus, Havel was left with no choice but to pick the first option. He had to clear the Demonic Palace.

But such a feat was impossible.

The head of the great family.

The proud knights of the imperial palace.

Mighty warriors gathered from across the land.

Together, they had barely made it to the fourth floor before being annihilated.

All except for Havel Vanpelion, the Swordmaster.

To clear the Demonic Palace alone?

“Ridiculous.”

It was an absurd notion.

“I should have died instead.”

Havel’s whispered lament was haunted by the memory of the other heads of great families who had sacrificed themselves to save him.

Their dying wish—”At least you must survive.”—was a chain around his neck.

Even the Emperor, whom he had come to rescue, had perished.
What use was his survival?

A deafening rumble interrupted his thoughts.

Havel tightened his grip on his sword, raising his head.

Regression was a curse. At this point—after dozens upon dozens of iterations—his mind was nearing its limits.

Yet he descended further into the Demonic Palace.

Because there was nothing else he could do.

The seventh floor.

Havel surveyed his surroundings.

More than half of his regressions had ended on this floor.

He had experienced more deaths here than on all the previous floors combined.

Not just because his spirit was fraying, but because the seventh floor’s difficulty was beyond comprehension.

A suffocating heat pressed down on him.

The soles of his boots sizzled as they began to melt.

Every breath scalded his lungs, and even the sweat from his body evaporated instantly.

The Lava Zone.

And at its heart lay the most blistering heat of all.

“Damn it all…”

This was the domain of the seventh floor’s master: the Phoenix.

As the searing heat enveloped him, Havel felt an all-too-familiar sense of dread.

He was drawing close to the creature that had been responsible for most of his deaths.

His body trembled instinctively—not from his current self, but from the memory of countless agonizing deaths.

When he finally came face-to-face with the Phoenix once more, Havel wanted nothing more than to give up.

But even that was impossible.

To surrender and die would only result in another regression.

The Phoenix spread its massive crimson wings, its fiery beak glowing ominously.

WHOOSH!

The next instant, its enormous claws collided with Havel’s sword.

BOOM!

The shockwave caused the surrounding lava to erupt, yet Havel’s eyes remained steady.

This was his 64th regression.

“You damned thing.”

He had grown stronger. So much so that the title of Swordmaster could no longer contain him.

The Phoenix’s movements, once incomprehensible, were now familiar.

Even so, he had yet to defeat it.

The Phoenix beat its wings, summoning pillars of molten lava that erupted around him.

“Urgh!”

The intense heat burned through even his tempered body, likely leaving him covered in burns.

And then, the Phoenix dove at him, flames consuming its body as if it were ready to incinerate him completely.

But Havel had prepared for this moment.

A bone-chilling frost began to seep from his body.

“To face you, I tore down the doors of memory.”

In an instant, the lava froze solid.

The frost emanating from Havel was so potent that it could freeze even molten rock.

But it took a toll on him as well.

“My body feels like it’s freezing.”

It was only natural. This was not his technique but one he had learned through countless deaths:
the swordsmanship of Jerak, the master of frost—a fallen comrade once known as the Froststar.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Now, wielding his dead comrade’s art, Havel clashed relentlessly with the Phoenix.

Ice clashed against fire, while talons raked and flames surged.

Death brushed past him with every moment.

Yet, no matter how many times he struck, the Phoenix remained monstrous.

Even if he managed to kill it, there was no guarantee it wouldn’t rise again.

“I can see it.”

This time, something was different.

For the first time, his eyes were clear, no longer melted by the heat.

That was enough.

Channeling the will of the departed Jerak, Havel swung his sword with all his might.

But then, a torrent of lava struck him unexpectedly, instantly melting both of his arms.

The Phoenix’s golden eyes gleamed with the certainty of victory as its claws raced toward him.

“So, another regression it is.”

Though resigned to death, the thought of yet another regression filled Havel with dread.

“If that’s the case…”

A cold gleam flashed in his azure eyes.

Between his ruined arms, frost gathered, mixed with blood.

Crunch!

A crude, ice-forged arm emerged, gripping his sword.

“Struggling to the very end is my duty.”

With that, he continued his desperate fight.

Finally, the Phoenix faltered, its fiery body succumbing to encroaching ice.

The creature let out a final cry before collapsing into shards.

In its place, a lone egg remained.

Though victorious, Havel could only kneel before it, frozen in place.

“Again?”

Even in triumph, the curse of regression loomed.

Havel let out a bitter laugh.

[You have defeated the master of the Demonic Palace’s seventh floor, the Phoenix.]

A sweet voice echoed through the Demon Palace.
It was the same voice that always rang out after clearing a floor of the Demon Palace.

Havel didn’t bother paying attention to it.
He had no interest in rewards in the first place.

The rewards for clearing the Demon Palace’s floors were always random.
For someone who was destined to regress, the Demon Palace’s rewards were meaningless.
He was simply waiting for the impending regression to arrive.

[ A reward for conquering the seventh floor of the Demon Palace will now be granted. ]

But regardless of his indifference, the Demon Palace proceeded to dispense its reward.
With a soft thud, a crimson fruit dropped in front of Havel.

He stared at it in silence until the voice rang out again.

[ The Undying Fruit has been bestowed. ]

The Undying Fruit?
A moment of confusion pierced through his steadily numbing thoughts.

Havel’s eyes widened in shock.

“The Undying Fruit?!”

He knew exactly what it signified.

“Ugh!”

At that moment, his almost-still heart constricted painfully.
It was a sensation he was all too familiar with—death.
But this time, death was the last thing that could happen.

Havel’s legs gave way, his collapsing body sprawled on the floor.
Barely moving, he stretched his neck toward the fruit.

I have to eat it. That’s the only thing that matters.

With a sharp crunch, his teeth sank into the Undying Fruit.
His writhing movements, however pathetic, were enough.

Havel bit down on the fruit with a tenacity born of sheer desperation, swallowing every last piece.

And just as the familiar sensation of death began to overtake him—

Crack! Crackle!

A strange sound came from his arm.

Thump, thump, THUMP!

His heart erupted with a powerful rhythm, filling the silence with deafening noise.

Blood surged through his veins.
His vision cleared.
Bones reformed, muscles wrapped around them, and his skin regenerated.

Time passed in what felt like eternity.

Finally, drenched in cold sweat, Havel’s eyes snapped open.

“Haah… haah!”

The sharp, gasping breath that escaped his lips was proof—he was alive.

His eyes scanned his surroundings.
The molten terrain of the seventh floor’s lava field appeared vividly before him.

“I… Lived.”

He hadn’t died. Or rather, he had died but was immediately reborn.

And he understood exactly what that meant.

“I’m not regressing….”

Tears, hot and unstoppable, streamed down Havel’s face.
It felt like his chest would burst from the overwhelming relief.

“I’m not regressing anymore….”

No more returning to that accursed fourth floor.

He clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles cracked.
Tilting his head back, he gazed upward with resolve.

His feet planted firmly on the ground.

Havel gripped his sword.

The reason was simple.

To descend further into the Demon Palace and conquer it completely.

Regression was no longer an option.
What he held now was a final chance.
This would be his last turn.

“Let’s go.”

Havel muttered to himself, stepping forward.
Toward the next floor.
And the next one after that.

As an undying being, he moved forward endlessly.
There was nothing left to stop him.

BOOM!

At last, Havel stood before the gates of the tenth floor.

When he pushed the door open and stepped inside, he was met with an expanse of pitch-black emptiness.

Nothing.

The absence of anything only made his tension grow.

The chilling air seeped into his skin as he quietly raised his sword.

[ The tenth floor of the Demon Palace has been conquered. ]

The voice rang out once more.

Havel furrowed his brow.

Conquered? But I didn’t do anything.

Could it be?

The tenth floor had never contained anything to begin with?

For a fleeting moment, a wave of emptiness washed over him.

[ A reward for clearing the tenth floor of the Demon Palace will now be granted. ]

Havel didn’t care for rewards anymore.

All he wanted was to leave.

But he waited.

If he could wait just a bit longer, he’d finally be free.

Free to return to the home he missed so dearly.

[ Congratulations! You are now the master of the Demon Palace’s tenth floor. ]

“…What?”

He barely managed to voice the question before the entire Demon Palace began to twist and warp.

Havel’s instincts screamed as he swiftly unsheathed his sword.

But even his iron-forged mind, honed through countless regressions and death, couldn’t withstand what came next.

“Agh!”

A violent surge overwhelmed him, and his consciousness faded.

[ The master of the Demon Palace’s tenth floor descends to the mortal realm. ]

Those final words echoed faintly as Havel’s world went dark.