A Dragonslayer’s Peerless Regression

Chapter 9

Zeke ascended to the top floor, where the Platinum Floor’s exclusive lounge was located.

Following the servant’s guidance, he entered the lounge to find Reina Draker already seated, having claimed a spot on one side.

Behind Reina stood a few senior cadets affiliated with the Turunn family.

Zeke inwardly scoffed at the sight.

‘What are they, cartel members or something?’

To Zeke, it looked like childish playacting.

At Reina’s gesture, the Turunn-affiliated cadets stepped back.

Zeke took a seat opposite Reina.

“Apologies. The people from my family can be a bit peculiar,” Reina said.

Her head, once shaved during The Cradle, now sported a short-cropped hairstyle.

Dressed in the Draker cadet uniform and wearing gloves symbolizing her Pureblood Awakening, Reina looked like the epitome of a knight from the Draker family.

‘Impressive.’

Zeke could sense her aura and realized she had already unlocked her Ether Hall and begun training in aura techniques.

Once again, Zeke was reminded of how the Draker household was a den of monsters.

“Why did you call for me?”

Zeke cut straight to the point. Though curiosity about the so-called “Lightning Knight,” the strongest among his peers in his past life, had prevented him from refusing the invitation, he had no intention of wasting time on trivial matters.

Just then, the servants began bringing in the prepared meal.

Plates piled with thick steaks were set before both Reina and Zeke.

“Let’s talk while we eat.”

Zeke glanced at the massive amount of steak placed in front of Reina, momentarily startled.

‘Is she really going to eat all that herself?’

Although Zeke himself wasn’t a light eater, Reina’s appetite seemed to defy all reason.

She briskly cut into the blood-dripping steak and popped sizable chunks into her mouth.

In no time, Reina had polished off an entire steak with ease.

Noticing that Zeke was staring at her instead of eating the steak before him, Reina asked,

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“No reason. Never mind. So, why did you call me here?”

Reina wiped her mouth with a napkin and looked Zeke in the eye.

“Zeke Draker. I’ll get straight to the point. Accept sponsorship from the Turunn family.”

Her words were straightforward—accepting sponsorship meant becoming a member of the Turunn faction.

Zeke clicked his tongue at her proposal.

“You called me here just to say that? What a disappointment.”

“Graduating from the Academy without the backing of a sponsor family is no easy feat. And if you aim for Valhalla, it’ll be even harder.”

Valhalla.

Midland, the central region of the Central Continent, housed Atlas, the largest city at its core, and within it, the continent’s premier educational institution.

Just like the Academy they were currently in, Valhalla was also managed by the Draker Household.

Valhalla was the pinnacle of knight training institutions, where just gaining admission guaranteed a prosperous future.

Over 70% of the knight commanders in the kingdoms of the Central Continent were graduates of Valhalla.

However, not even the blood relatives of the Draker Household could automatically gain entry. Only the best of the best were allowed in.

Zeke looked at Reina and spoke.

“Did I look like someone who couldn’t get into Valhalla because I don’t have a rich maternal family footing my bill?”

All direct blood relatives, including Zeke, were half-siblings, each with a different mother.

For example, Abel Draker, the second-born, received sponsorship from the Zimmens family through his mother.

Likewise, the other direct blood relatives had the backing of prominent maternal families, but Zeke was the exception.

His mother had passed away from illness when he was young, and it seemed her family was insignificant, as there was almost no information about them.

As a result, receiving sponsorship from her side was entirely out of the question.

This was why Reina, aware of Zeke’s lack of a sponsor family, was the first to offer him the support of the Turunn family.

Reina spoke again while cutting into another steak and chewing.

“Being backed by the Turunn family isn’t a bad deal. That is, unless you’ve already decided on another sponsor family.”

She wasn’t wrong.

The Turunn family was one of the major vassal families supporting the Draker Household.

– **Turunn, the Strength**
– **Zimmens, the Wisdom**
– **Vardec, the Gold**

Among these three families, Turunn’s strength was a valuable asset that could significantly aid Zeke’s growth.

Yet Zeke resolutely rejected Reina’s offer.

“No, it’s the same no matter the family. I simply don’t see the need for sponsorship.”

When Zeke refused outright, Reina, who had been calmly eating, paused in surprise.

She hadn’t expected her proposal to be declined.

Looking at Reina’s expression, Zeke recalled his memories of the Turunn family.

‘Getting involved with the Turunn family here could end up tying me down for life.’

The Turunn family had another nickname: **Turunn, the Tenacious**.

Known for their unparalleled loyalty and organizational unity, once the Turunn family set their sights on something, they would never let it go.

The Turunn family’s reputation as the longstanding leaders of the Draker Household’s infamous pursuit squad, the **“Chasing Death Corps”**, was not without reason.

For Zeke, who planned to quickly graduate from the Academy, take only what he needed from Valhalla, and leave the Draker Household behind, Turunn was less of a reliable sponsor and more akin to a chain that could shackle him in place.

‘I am curious about the Turunn family’s secret techniques, but learning them would cost me more than I’d gain.’

By now, Reina had completely cleared her plate of steak. She looked at Zeke and spoke.

“You never cease to amaze me, Zeke Draker.”

“There’s plenty more where that came from,” Zeke replied with a smirk.

As he stood up and began heading for the exit, he paused, then turned back to Reina.

“Reina Draker, let me offer you one piece of advice as a courtesy.”

Reina’s eyes locked onto Zeke.

“Right now, your swordsmanship is too rigid. From what I see, your strength doesn’t come from brute force but from the unique flexibility of your body. You don’t need to strain yourself to match the guys around you. If you fully utilize that elasticity of yours, you’ll become several times stronger than you are now.”

Reina stared at him blankly.

Zeke was the first person to ever give her such direct advice, despite her lifelong reputation as a prodigy.

Without waiting for a response, Zeke left the lounge.

Reina, left alone, finally collected her thoughts and began reflecting on his words.

“Am I consciously trying to match the other guys?”

It was something she had never considered before.

The Turunn family’s defining trait was strength, and Reina had simply followed that tradition without question.

‘No… maybe I’ve been subconsciously influenced after all.’

A genius approached things differently.

The moment Reina recognized her shortcomings, she admitted them. This self-awareness allowed her to seize an opportunity for growth.

She turned to look at the entrance Zeke had exited through.

‘Zeke Draker, just what do your eyes see?’

—

The next day marked the start of the Academy’s new term.

The class Zeke had been assigned to was the so-called **“Special Class,”** reserved for the most exceptional elites.

As he strolled through the campus, Zeke took in the surroundings.

‘Ha, it’s been a while.’

This place had been nothing but a source of bad memories in his past life, but after awakening his Pureblood power, it now felt like heaven.

‘Power and authority really do make all the difference.’

Unlike the buildings for regular students, the Special Class had its own separate facility.

In his previous life, Zeke had never once visited this place. His eyes gleamed with curiosity as he ascended the stairs.

Upon reaching the top, he spotted the Special Class building.

‘That must be it.’

Though smaller than the general student buildings, which housed thousands, the facility was enormous, considering it was dedicated to the mere hundreds in the Special Class.

As Zeke was about to step inside the building, a voice called out to him.

“Zeke Draker.”

Zeke turned around.

“Owen.”

Owen Zimmens stood there with a few other students.

Their uniforms bore badges symbolizing the Zimmens family, indicating that the students accompanying Owen were likely affiliated with his household.

They eyed Zeke warily, their gazes cold and sharp.

Zeke smirked internally.

‘So they’re already forming cliques? This family really is rotten to the core, starting with the kids.’

As he glanced around, he noticed that most of the Special Class students had formed groups, whether small or large.

Zeke was the only one standing alone.

Owen approached him, speaking slowly.

“I sent you an invitation to yesterday’s banquet, but I didn’t get a response. Did you perhaps not receive it?”

Zeke replied casually, “No, I got it.”

Owen maintained his calm demeanor as he asked, “Then why didn’t you respond?”

With a sharp tone, Zeke retorted, “What a funny guy. Do I owe you a reply every time you invite me to eat?”

One of the senior Zimmens-affiliated cadets standing behind Owen stepped forward. The muscles beneath his uniform were so pronounced they seemed ready to burst.

“You’re being awfully rude to the young master’s generosity.”

Zeke looked at him and asked flatly, “Who are you?”

The cadet frowned and sneered.

“Well, well. A freshman doesn’t know who I am? How amusing…”

Zeke, disinterested in further conversation, turned to leave.

It was then—

*Swish!*

A sharp knife-hand strike came flying toward Zeke.

Reacting instinctively, Zeke raised his hand and caught the strike mid-air.

*Buzz!*

‘Aura?’

The strike carried the force of aura.

Using the edge of his hand, Zeke blocked the blow, redirected the force, and swiftly stepped back with a precise movement.

“How does that feel? Awake now?”

The senior cadet, the one who had launched the strike, smirked confidently as he flexed his hand.

“My name is Durban Roswell. Around here, they call me Durban the Mighty. I’m the one who’ll teach you some manners on behalf of Young Master Owen.”

‘Durban the Mighty?’

Zeke inwardly scoffed at the notion.

‘Giving themselves titles when they’re not even qualified knights? Ridiculous.’

Zeke glanced at Owen, who stood behind Durban.

Owen showed no intention of stopping Durban. Instead, he appeared focused on observing Zeke’s reaction.

‘So that’s how you’re going to play it, huh?’

True to the Zimmens family’s reputation, Owen’s scheming demeanor, lurking in the shadows, irritated Zeke.

Clenching his fists tightly, Zeke spoke.

“Looks like I’m your etiquette instructor today. Brace yourself.”

In an instant, Zeke’s figure disappeared.

*Whoosh!*

Zeke weaved through the air and moved inside Durban’s guard.

Durban, seeing Zeke’s fist flying toward his abdomen, smirked confidently.

‘How adorable. A freshman’s punch?’

He concentrated his aura on his abdomen.

With his already steel-hard abs reinforced by aura, his stomach became as solid as an iron plate.

A punch from some fledgling freshman was sure to shatter like glass.

*Whooooom!*

‘Huh?’

Durban doubted his ears. Something about the sound wasn’t right.

Zeke’s fist tore through the air and struck Durban’s abdomen squarely.

*BOOM!*

*CRACK!*

“Guhhhhhh!”

Durban felt as though his entire midsection had been ripped apart.

But Zeke’s attack wasn’t finished.

Closing the gap with a quick step, Zeke spun to the other side and delivered a low kick to Durban’s thigh.

*Whoooom!*

*CRACK!*

The same deafening sound echoed.

“Ughhhhh…”

Durban collapsed, unable to stand as his thigh throbbed with an intense, vibrating pain.

Zeke’s speed had been too fast for Durban to even attempt protecting his thigh with aura.

His face turned pale.

‘D-Did it break?’

Zeke, his fists still clenched, approached the fallen Durban.

Panicked, Durban waved his hands frantically.

“W-Wait!”

There was no reason for Zeke to spare him. After all, Durban was the one who’d initiated the altercation.

“Durban the Mighty? What a load of crap.”

Zeke proceeded to stomp on Durban, whose ribs had cracked and thigh bone fractured.

Owen and the other Zimmens-affiliated seniors watched silently as Zeke mercilessly beat Durban.

When Zeke had sufficiently “softened” Durban, he pressed down on the cadet’s injured leg with deliberate force.

“Aaaaaargh!”

Durban’s scream echoed throughout the Special Class courtyard, drawing the attention of other cadet groups, who watched the scene with interest.

Zeke turned toward Owen and spoke.

“Who’s backing this ‘Durban the Mighty’? Come out already. I don’t have time to waste.”

Owen glanced down at the broken Durban before turning away indifferently.

Looking back at Zeke, he remarked, “Zeke Draker, how arrogant of you.”

Zeke sneered at Owen, his expression contemptuous.

“Spare me the crap, you prematurely old bastard.”

Owen gazed at Zeke for a moment, then silently led the other Zimmens-affiliated cadets into the Special Class building, leaving Durban lying at Zeke’s feet.

Durban could do nothing but groan, abandoned.

Clicking his tongue, Zeke watched Owen’s retreating figure.

“Typical Zimmens trash. Always insufferable.”

Durban, dragging his injured leg, tried to crawl away, but Zeke approached him and delivered a sharp kick to his side.

“Gahhh!”

Durban’s scream once again echoed through the courtyard.