Chapter 217: Keep Your Friends Close, But Your Enemies Closer (1)

The Hans’ General Store, the only shop in the mountain village of Gurude, was small but crammed with all sorts of goods. The narrow aisles barely fit one person at a time, and even the ceiling was cluttered with dangling items. Anyone who stepped inside would instinctively frown at the stench of oil and a sharp sting that irritated the eyes.

Most bored travelers who wandered in left immediately, repulsed by the smell. A few idle strangers, however, braved the acrid air and eye-watering sting to browse the goods.

And soon, they would tilt their heads in puzzlement. While there were plenty of miscellaneous items befitting a general shop, many of them were impractical, such as a branch shaped like a child’s toy sword, a crudely carved wooden soldier, a faded jar, or a bell etched with strange animals.

Curious visitors picked them up, wondering if they might hold some archaeological value, but they quickly realized the truth.

“This... This is!”

Their fingertips could feel the wear of years. The items were so fragile that any amount of pressure would shatter them immediately. However...

“These are just antiques.”

Of course, not everything was useless. There were discarded wooden shields once used by mercenaries, ceramic bowls, and iron spoons—all items that still had some use. Yet most were second-hand goods that no one in their right mind would want.

And so, Hans’ General Store became a dusty repository, visited only occasionally by curious outsiders, while the villagers themselves stayed away.

Clink.

The door to Hans’ General Store opened, and a young man stepped inside. Hans, the shop owner, didn’t even glance at him. He sat in his chair, dozing off like he hadn’t woken up completely. The young man didn’t care and began to look around.

Clatter.

He idly glanced at various items, then lifted his gaze to the ceiling and spotted something. He tiptoed and reached up for it. It was a white mask that covered the entire face. It was smooth and featureless, with only holes for the eyes. It looked less like something for a masquerade ball and more suited for crime.

“...”

The young man examined the mask front and back, then headed straight to the counter.

“Shopkeeper, I’d like to buy this.”

Hans cracked open his sleepy eyes and suddenly gave a chilling smile.

“You’ve walked right into it, Regressor.”

“...?! ”

Hans grabbed the young man’s wrist, and in the next instant, they both vanished in a flash of blue light. It was a silent-cast teleportation. He had just cast a seven-circle spell with nothing but intent.

“Hahahaha! I’ve finally found you, Regressor!”

The young man was dragged to a narrow cliff that was barely wide enough for one person to stand. Below was a dizzying drop through the clouds. Three figures hovered in the air: two men and a woman.

The man on the right wore a bucket-like hat, with only his scruffy chin visible. At his waist hung a jewel-encrusted, long-bladed axe.

The man in the center appeared to be Hans, the shopkeeper. He looked old, but his voice was that of a young man’s. His mastery of silent teleportation made it clear his appearance was magically altered.

The woman on the left was wearing provocative clothing like a prostitute. She was chewing on a gold coin, which had a clear bite mark on it.

Each one of them was extraordinary; the fact that they were casually hovering thousands of meters in the sky meant they were at least seven-star Primes.

“So this is the regressor we’ve been searching for,” said the man wearing the bucket hat.

With certainty, Hans answered, “He picked up Orphe’s Mask. That artifact is veiled with recognition-interference magic, so those who don’t already know of it cannot see it. And here’s the fun part: I only planned to spread word of Orphe’s Mask five years from now, which means that anyone who knows of it now could only have that knowledge from a previous life. In other words: he must be a regressor!”

“Hm...”

“So that’s why you hid an artifact in such a ridiculous place. A clever trap indeed. No ordinary person could have found it; it has to be a regressor.”

The bucket-hatted man and the coin-chewing woman both nodded in agreement.

The young man was cornered, with no way out.

Hans grinned and said, “As you’ve heard, Regressor, you’ve walked into my trap. But don’t worry, we didn’t set this trap to kill you. The Syndicate seeks an alliance with regressors—no, with pioneers like you...”

But at that moment...

“E-excuse me, sir... I’m afraid I don’t understand what you’re saying. What crime have I committed?”

“...?”

“Regressor? Pioneer? I’m nothing more than an ordinary scholar. Surely you’re mistaken...”

“Hah! What a poor act. I told you already that Orphe’s Mask cannot be seen unless one knows of it beforehand. And the only way to know of it is through information carried from a past life. Stop feigning ignorance. We would prefer to talk peacefully, but if you keep resisting, we may have to use force.”

Hans released his suppressed mana and continued, “As you know, spatial magic is my specialty. We’ve already considered the possibility of you regressing again even if you die now, so we will simply not kill you. Instead, we will simply seal you away for eternity, so cooperation is your only...”

Thud!

Hans was cut off as the young man collapsed, dropping Orphe’s Mask and foaming at the mouth.

“...?!”

Drip.

It wasn’t just fainting. A wet stain spread beneath him, showing that he had wet himself.

“Is he really going that far for an act?”

“Is he dead?”

Hans teleported beside him to check, then frowned.

“He’s only unconscious. Seems he couldn’t withstand the pulse of my mana.”

“Impossible. He’s supposed to be a regressor, yet just the release of mana made him faint? That’s something only a normal person would...”

Crack.

Hans clenched his teeth and said, “What the hell is going on? This guy has no aura or mana at all. He’s just... an ordinary man.”

Hans, who had been so certain he had captured a regressor, could not hide his shock.

* * *

Keter stroked his chin as he looked down at Gurude from the hill. For the first time since his regression, his heart tightened with tension.

The young man the Syndicate had captured was actually a pawn sent by Keter, and everything he heard, Keter heard as well. The Syndicate couldn’t trace it back to Keter, as all Keter had done was snatch up an ordinary person and plant a simple hypnotic suggestion.

—Go to the general store and buy Orphe’s Mask.

If it had been compulsion through magic, it would have left traces that could be followed. However, hypnosis was closer to incantation than to magic, so it left no trail to track.

On top of that, he had used an incantation to eavesdrop on their conversation. However, linking his hearing through a spell relied on mana, so there was a risk of it being tracked. To avoid this, Keter broke the incantation as soon as he cast it. A spell lingered briefly even after being broken, so he was able to preserve its effect for a short while without leaving any traces of mana.

If I’d gone in recklessly, I’d have walked straight into their trap.

Even with only sound, Keter learned a great deal. He caught the whistle of wind and the clatter of pebbles tumbling without ever hitting the ground.

They probably also placed restrictions on teleportation, not just movement. Makes sense, since Hans introduced himself as a master of spatial magic.

Most of all, the biggest gain from this was that they had identified themselves as the Syndicate outright.

Well, I was sort of expecting it.

When Keter retraced how he had learned of Orphe’s Mask in his past life, he realized it wasn’t something he had discovered himself, but something someone had told him. A Transcendental from the Syndicate who called himself the Collector had bragged about it like a personal trophy.

“I practically got Orphe’s Mask for free. I picked it up in a general store in some outback village called Gurude for just one silver! Ahaha! Who would have guessed such a rare artifact, infused with the power of Charm, would be lying around in that dump?”

Back then, Keter dismissed the man as just a loudmouth. But after regressing, he noticed all the oddities.

For bragging, he sure gave away a suspiciously exact location and detailed description of its power.

It was a ridiculous suspicion, but Keter believed the Orphe’s Mask was a trap to catch regressors. That was why he had abducted a random person off the street and tested the theory with hypnosis. And his suspicion had hit the mark perfectly.

“Interesting. To think they not only knew regressors existed, but set this sort of trap for them. And it’s the Syndicate, no less.”

The Syndicate, a self-acclaimed mysterious organization, was infamous for evaluating others and assigning tiers to them. They were the ones behind the Seven Dragons of the Lillian Kingdom, such as Spear Dragon Jordic, Sword Dragon Rajis, and the rest. They even appeared at international events from time to time, ensuring their presence was always felt.

So their true purpose was to find regressors? But why?

What was more intriguing was that they called regressors by another name: pioneers.

And just what is a pioneer supposed to be?

Keter, who had only wanted to acquire the artifact for free, now realized that he had gotten into a far more complicated affair. However, it didn’t displease him; in fact, he found it exhilarating.

They said they want to be partners, but what kind of partner sets a trap for you? Of course, I can understand why a regressor wouldn’t come forward declaring that they’re a regressor, but still...

Given that they had even admitted they would resort to force if necessary, Keter had not even the slightest intention of stepping forward.

If the Syndicate can casually mobilize three Primes, it means they are deadly serious about hunting regressors. Whatever their goal is, I cannot let this secret get out.

The Syndicate had even meticulously prepared to seal away a regressor for eternity in case they died and returned again. Walking straight into a trap someone had so carefully prepared was not bravery—it was stupidity. And Keter had no intention of playing the fool.

“Hm.”

His hand rose from his chin to his lips as he mulled it over.

Still... It’s not my nature to abandon the use of knowledge from my past life out of fear of them. Even just imagining that irritates me.

The Syndicate knew regressors existed, but not who they were. All they could do was dig pits and wait. Avoiding the traps was simple enough, but what angered Keter was their audacity in daring to target him.

I want Orphe’s Mask, but I want to know why they seek regressors and what they mean by “pioneers.”

Keter had been greedy from birth. If he wanted something, he had to use every means available until it was his.

Closing his eyes for a moment, he sorted through everything he had achieved so far, until a solution flashed in his mind: the perfect move to seize Orphe’s Mask and simultaneously bring the Syndicate under his control.