Swordsman's Regression: Reawakened as a Necromancer-Chapter 103: Strong Bones

The Golden Spire Guild came to reject their decision to move on rather than loot.

They were yet to reach the Boss chamber when the loud notification rang in their heads and appeared before them.

⸢5 MINUTES LEFT UNTIL FORCEFUL REMOVAL FROM GATE WORLD⸥

The eyes of the Awakeners widened. They all looked at each other, realizing that this entire expedition had been basically useless.

"We should have listened to Iron Guard and Heaven’s Blade!" one cried.

"Yes!" another concurred. "Now we’re leaving here with nothing."

"What are we going to do? We can’t reach the next Zone in time!"

"This was an utter failure!"

Marcus, the Golden Spire Leader, burned with anger and snapped at all of his subordinates. "You stupid, fear-ridden fools! Because of that notification you have all given up hope?!"

One shrugged. "We can’t make it."

"Of course we can!" Marcus barked. He knew the Hero would be there. Even if there was no chance to loot, he wanted to see him. To see what he had done that had made him clear an A-Ranked Gate World solo.

"On your heels!" He barked. "Run forward! Reach the Boss chamber before the timer goes off!"

The Awakeners all glanced at each other, confused by the order. "I said RUNNNNN!"

They all immediately took their heels, racing towards the next Encounter Zone. Their greaves and leather boots hit the receding ice, eyes filled with desperation as they tried to outrun the clock.

Marcus followed, and soon, they reached the door.

One of the Awakeners, an Assassin, found the key and opened it.

⸢1 MINUTE LEFT UNTIL FORCEFUL REMOVAL FROM GATE WORLD⸥

Drmmmmm.

The door vibrated as it opened. Marcus waited with a beating heart, and so did the rest of the party.

But just when the door fully opened, and Marcus caught the glimpse of a blue flame disappearing and a red portal forming, the timer went off.

⸢YOU ARE BEING REMOVED FROM THE GATE WORLD⸥

A forceful energy slammed them all backwards. The next thing they knew, they were outside, back in the farmlands by the outskirts.

Marcus, wide-eyed, looked around. He saw the leaders of the other Guild Squads confronting their wardens and speaking to the Gatewatch officials.

Heaven’s Blade Leader gave him a reactionless glare. "Unsuccessful, weren’t you?"

Marcus glared.

"Marcus!"

He turned to see his warden stomping towards him. As he prepared for the onslaught of insults and scolding, they felt the Gate World shudder.

Everyone turned to the swirling crimson circle.

"Is he coming out?"

"Seems like it."

They waited in silence. Then, a figure stepped out.

Greaves touched dirt.

The Gate swirled behind him, though softer now, as though resting.

For a single, fragile heartbeat, no one spoke.

Percival stood there alone.

He wasn’t bloodied. He didn’t look exhausted.

He looked... calm.

His armor was scarred, yes—etched with old cuts and dried residue from the Gate World—but it was intact.

His posture was straight. His gaze steady.

It was like he was in an unsolicited staring contest with dozens of people. And none of them looked like giving up.

The clearing outside the Gate had become a battlefield without combat—three guild formations frozen mid-advance, weapons half-raised, expressions twisted between disbelief and rage.

Gatewatch officials stood nearer the perimeter, wide-eyed and pale, clutching recording crystals and detection devices that were no longer flashing warnings.

His eyes regarded the three Guilds present.

The Golden Spire, resplendent even in fury.

Heaven’s Blade, tense and coiled like a drawn bowstring.

Iron Guard, seething, armored boots dug into the dirt.

All of them staring at the same thing.

At the man who had entered first.

At the man who had come out alone.

A Gatewatch officer swallowed hard and glanced down at his crystal.

Then glanced again.

"...Sir Hero," he croaked, voice cracking. "Are you now officially the owner of this Gate World?"

Percival jerked his head in his direction, his hair falling over. "Seems like it."

"It’s true," another officer said. "Gate World designation: Rending Marsh... Ownership status—"

He stopped.

Slowly, dreadfully, he lifted his head.

"...claimed."

That was when the noise exploded.

"What?"

"That’s impossible!"

"How the hell did this happen?!"

"You’re telling me it was him?!"

Shouting erupted from all sides, overlapping, colliding. Some authorities from the three Guilds had gathered, including younger Awakeners who wanted to watch their Guilds claim an A-Ranked Gate World.

Then a sharp, commanding voice cut through the chaos.

"Silence!"

The Golden Spire Warden stepped forward, his robe swimming in the grass. His head tilted, eyes fixed on Percival like a merchant appraising an object he fully intended to own.

"You," he said coolly. "Necromancer."

Percival’s eyes lifted. Slowly.

"Yes?" he replied.

The Warden’s jaw tightened. "Explain. Right now."

He gestured sharply toward the Alpha Gate.

"That was an A-Ranked Gate World. Our detection arrays showed at least six Encounter Zones, an A-Ranked Boss, and environmental corruption strong enough to rot mana constructs."

He took another step closer.

"You entered first at Level 28."

A Gatewatch official blurted out, unable to stop himself. "And you exited at Level 38!"

The clearing went deathly quiet again.

Ten levels. In one run.

Not a party clearing.

Not a Guild exposition.

Just one man.

Iron Guard’s Warden barked out a harsh laugh. "Bullshit."

He stomped forward, one hand leaving his robe sleeves to point at Percival’s face. "You expect us to believe you did that alone? You? A bastard hiding behind bones?"

Percival turned his head slightly, finally acknowledging him.

"Must be pretty strong bones."

The crowd gasped, some chuckled.

The Warden’s head retorted. "You dare mock me."

Percival couldn’t think of another witty reply.

The Heaven’s Blade Warden stepped forward next, studying Percival intensely.

"...You’re not injured," he said slowly. "You’re not even exhausted. How did you do this on your own?"

"And what about the loot?!" someone yelled.

"Yeah the loot!"

"Yeah!!!" others followed.

The Iron Guard Warden glared at him. "You heard them. What about the loot? Or did you claim all of it, you greedy outworlder?"

Percival stared at him for a while, then sighed. "If it won’t be a problem for you, I’d like to be on my way."

The warden frowned.

"Hold on," the Golden Spire Warden interjected. "Whatever trick you used... it no longer matters."

He spread his hands magnanimously.

"You are in possession of an A-Ranked Gate World. You know the rules. Gate Worlds can only be owned by the Baron."

He leaned forward slightly.

"So here is what will happen."

The Gatewatch captain nodded stiffly beside him, clearly rehearsed.

"You must sell the Gate World ownership to the Baron," the official said, forcing authority into his voice. "Immediately. You will be compensated fairly, of course."

Iron Guard snorted. "Fairly," he echoed.

Heaven’s Blade didn’t smile, but he didn’t object either.

All eyes turned to Percival.

He listened.

Patiently.

Then he spoke.

"Okay."

The word landed like a stone dropped into still water.

Golden Spire’s smile twitched. "Okay?"

Percival glanced past them, already turning away.

"I said okay. How do you manage to still have an issue with that?"

They all glanced at each other with confusion.

"Alright then," the Gatewatch official said. "Let us go."

Percival turned to him, giving him a glare that made him freeze. "Not right now. Now, I need to rest."

Iron Guard exploded. "You little—!"

The Heaven’s Blade Warden raised a hand sharply. "Wait."

No one moved.

Marcus, who hadn’t spoken since returning, watched silently.

His eyes followed Percival as he walked—walked—past them, past the Gatewatch, past sixty high-level Awakeners who parted almost unconsciously to let him through.

—---—

He found himself a modest inn to rest. He was already daydreaming about sleeping.

But before he could retire to the inviting bed before him, there was a knock on the door.

Percival grimaced.

He wanted to ignore it, but after two more knocks he knew they wouldn’t be given up anytime soon.

He opened the door.

In front of him were four guards, dressed rather formally, as though they intentionally kept their weapons hidden to make their presence less hostile.

"Percival Nightstar," one said. "You have been summoned by Baron Eutheo of Luvengart."

He slammed the door in their faces.