A Dragonslayer’s Peerless Regression

Chapter 36

Kay looked at Zeke with a bewildered expression, unable to hide her disbelief at his confident suggestion.

It was difficult for her to determine just how much she could trust him.

“Do you even know what kind of person Don Juan is?” she asked.

Zeke grinned slyly.

“I’d bet there’s no one who knows Don Juan better than I do.”

In his past life, when he served as a hitman for the Mechain Cartel, Zeke had been a direct member of Don Juan’s cleanup squad.

He handled all the cartel’s dirty work, assassinating rival cartel bosses and carrying out threats.

Thanks to Zeke, the Mechain Cartel had solidified its position as the leading cartel in the South.

As an exceptionally rare hitman who rose to the rank of an executive, Zeke had knowledge of countless cartel secrets.

‘From Don Juan’s secret vault to the nobles and politicians he’s bribing—I know it all.’

It would have been impossible for him to single-handedly topple such a massive cartel.

However, if he used the Syndicate’s intelligence network to manipulate the various cartels against each other, he could orchestrate their mutual destruction from the shadows.

When the cartels had sufficiently weakened themselves through infighting, Zeke could simply swallow them whole.

Yet, it was too risky for him, a Draker, to take action openly.

Thus, he planned to put the Syndicate and Kay at the forefront as his proxies.

Zeke intended to control everything from behind the scenes, ensuring he left no trace while seizing control of the South.

It was a plan he believed had a high chance of success.

The first step in executing it, however, was meeting Don Juan, the boss of the Mechain Cartel.

When Kay hesitated to give an answer, Zeke stood up.

“Think it over carefully and contact me once you’ve made your decision.”

Without lingering, Zeke left the room.

Even after he had gone, Kay remained seated, unable to move for a long time.

No matter how much she thought about it, she couldn’t understand why such a situation had suddenly fallen into her lap.

Looking at the mark Zeke had left on her wrist, she agonized over her decision again and again.

999

A week later, Zeke finally entered Valhalla.

It was a place that gathered the finest talents from across the continent—a place Zeke had never set foot in during his past life.

“Hmm.”

Valhalla was about the size of an entire town.

Unlike the rigid atmosphere of an academy, Valhalla exuded a sense of freedom.

Students gathered in small groups on the campus, chatting and laughing. Some lay on the grass, basking in the sunlight.

Students sat on benches reading books, while others were jogging even in the early morning.

‘This atmosphere is very different from what I expected.’

Having grown accustomed to the rigid atmosphere of The Cradle and the academy, Zeke found this free-spirited environment unfamiliar.

At that moment, someone approached him.

“Yo, are you Zeke?”

Zeke turned his gaze toward the person who called out to him.

A man with flamboyant hair strolled up casually, standing next to Zeke. Judging by his reddish-brown skin, he seemed to be from the desert regions or the southern continent.

The man struck a strange pose, thumped his chest a couple of times, and then extended his fist toward Zeke.

When Zeke simply stared at him, the man shrugged his shoulders and said, “Looks like our bro Zeke’s got a long way to go to shake off that academy stiffness.”

Zeke observed him and replied, “You’re that guy, Buddy, or something, right?”

The man imitated Zeke’s tone mockingly. “Buddy, or something, right? Hey, bro. What are you doing? Peace! Relax a bit, man.”

Zeke couldn’t help but wonder if this clown was really a Valhalla student. His behavior reminded Zeke of the carefree Soma junkies from the Empire.

Grinning broadly, the man began leading Zeke around, despite Zeke’s doubtful expression.

“I’m Diego. Diego Villa. Nice to meet you, bro.”

Hearing his name, Zeke’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Are you really Diego Villa?”

Diego struck another odd pose and shouted, “Peace!”

Zeke looked at him with even more suspicion.

‘This guy is supposed to be the future Knight of Rhythm?’

Diego Villa was one of the five knights who made a significant impact during the Third Continental War.

The Knight of Rhythm, Diego Villa.
The Knight of Lightning, Reina Draker.
The Knight of Smoke, Jeffric Solma.
The Knight of Silence, Bishop Castick.
The Knight of Illusion, Aster Alladof.

The people revered these five individuals, who achieved great feats during the Third Continental War, calling them the “Five-Star Knights.”

As Diego enthusiastically showed him around Valhalla, Zeke thought of the other Five-Star Knights.

‘Aside from Reina, the other four weren’t Drakers. If I could bring everyone I meet here under my command…’

If he added the Five-Star Knights to his ranks, along with the Mercenary King Liam, it would greatly accelerate his plans to build his power base.

‘Valhalla is a treasure trove of talent. There might even be outstanding individuals hidden here who never achieve fame in the future.’

Zeke nodded silently to himself at the thought that, in addition to the Five-Star Knights, Valhalla might house other talents he could draw into his future forces.

After wandering around for a while, it was finally time for a meal, and the two entered a dining hall.

“Zeke, bro, you’ve got to eat here at least once in Valhalla.”

Diego led him to a restaurant that specialized in southern continental home cooking.

Zeke wasn’t particularly fond of southern cuisine, given his less-than-stellar memories from his time in the South in his previous life, but he sat down regardless.

Soon, a generous spread of southern-style dishes was served.

Zeke picked up a tortilla and took a bite.

“Hmm? This is pretty good.”

Diego grinned broadly at Zeke’s positive reaction and gave him a hearty pat on the shoulder.

As they ate, Zeke listened to Diego’s story.

Diego was from a small kingdom in the southern continent and was currently studying abroad in the central continent.

Since childhood, he had been forced to learn his family’s traditional dual-swordsmanship, and his talent was so extraordinary that by the age of fifteen, he had already surpassed his father, who had been his mentor.

“But I like making music more than anything. Hey, since we’re on the topic, how about joining our club, bro?”

Diego described it as a club that researched fusion New Age music, mixing the rhythm of southern traditional music with the melodies of the central continent. However, Zeke didn’t really understand even after listening to the explanation, so he declined.

He wasn’t interested in music, and more importantly, he didn’t have time to spare.

After finishing their meal and chatting, Diego suggested they attend a lecture together in the afternoon.

“Are we even allowed to sit in on upperclassmen lectures?”

“Ah, typical academy guy talk! Valhalla is all about freedom! Peace! You can join any class if you’re here to learn, bro. Now let’s go!”

Dragged along, Zeke decided to accompany Diego to a lecture.

The lecture Diego took him to was titled, “Special Lecture on Prominent Figures Leading the Central Continent”—a strange name for a course offered as a general subject.

Following Diego, Zeke took a seat in a massive lecture hall, his expression stoic as always.

“Bro! Smile!”

Diego smiled and teased Zeke, who remained unresponsive, and Zeke, in turn, started to feel mildly exhausted by Diego’s constant chatter.

‘Maybe I can do without this guy among the Five-Star Knights.’

As he entertained this thought, the students around them began murmuring.

They were glancing at Zeke, whispering among themselves while casting sidelong glances in his direction.

It seemed they had noticed him after turning to look at Diego’s loud behavior.

Zeke watched the students’ reactions, puzzled by their murmurs.

Diego, who had been listening to the students’ murmuring, suddenly made a fuss.

“What? Zeke, bro, you’re a Draker?”

Zeke gave him a bewildered look.

“You mean you didn’t realize until now?”

“I just thought you were some academy grad. I did think you acted ridiculously full of yourself, but now it makes sense!”

“…”

At that moment, a group of students approached Zeke.

“You must be Zeke Draker. Nice to meet you. I’m Doug of the Roswell Household, an Academy graduate of Class 1025.”

The family name sounded vaguely familiar.

Zeke asked Doug, “Do you have a younger sibling?”

Doug nodded with satisfaction.

“You know Durban? Well, it figures. At the Academy, they say no one doesn’t know ‘Durban the Blade.’ My brother is also set to enroll in Valhalla next year.”

“…”

Zeke, recognizing the name, thought to himself, So that’s where I’ve heard it before.

He briefly wondered if Valhalla’s standards were lower than expected since even Durban the Blade would be joining. In truth, though, Durban was among the Academy’s elite; it was only because he had lost so decisively to Zeke that his skill seemed unimpressive by comparison.

Moreover, the Roswell Household was a prestigious family with longstanding ties to the Zimmens, one of the Draker Household’s key allies.

Doug and Durban’s admission to Valhalla wasn’t a coincidence—it was part of the larger political and social web.

Still, Zeke barely paid attention to Doug’s remarks, instead mulling over Valhalla’s overall caliber.

Unaware of Zeke’s thoughts, more scions from the central continent’s most prominent families began flocking to him.

“Zeke Draker! I’m from a distinguished family in Thebea…”

“I’m from Alencia’s…”

“I’m the second son of the Central Continent Produce Guild…”

The buzz surrounding a fifteen-year-old freshman with skills equivalent to a Blue Knight had made everyone curious about Zeke.

As more people crowded around, Zeke began to grow annoyed. He glared at Diego, who stood next to him, grinning as if oblivious to the commotion.

Then, a loud clapping sound echoed through the hall.

Clap! Clap!

The students who had gathered around Zeke quickly dispersed and returned to their seats.

It was none other than Principal Flaubert himself, now standing on the podium.

Only then did Zeke understand why there were so many nobles from the Central Kingdom in what seemed like a simple general lecture.

The class involved Principal Flaubert personally inviting prominent figures to share their life stories.

Meanwhile, Diego, instead of paying attention, pulled out a notebook and began doodling. He scribbled lyrics for a new song and proudly showed them to Zeke.

“Hey, bro. What do you think of these lyrics? The rhyme’s killer, right?”

Zeke ignored Diego’s whispered question and focused on the podium as Flaubert began introducing the guest speaker.

“It was truly difficult to bring today’s guest here,” the principal said with a meaningful smile.

At his cue, the doors opened, and someone walked in.

Zeke’s jaw dropped.

‘Duke, Master?’

It was none other than Duke Draker, immaculately dressed in the Draker family’s formal attire, stepping up onto the podium.

Behind him, assistants unfurled a large banner.

《 Me, Duke Draker: How I Went from the Academy’s Worst Class to Becoming a Black Knight 》

The appearance of the Knight of Gale, Duke Draker, made the students’ eyes sparkle with anticipation. Excitement and admiration were evident in their expressions.

Even Principal Flaubert left the stage and sat in the front row to listen to Duke’s lecture.

Duke adjusted his amplification device, his face showing a hint of nervousness.

“Ahem. It’s an honor to be invited as a guest lecturer to the Valhalla I’ve always admired. Though, unfortunately, I never had the chance to study here as a student.”

The students erupted in laughter at his self-deprecating humor.

As Zeke watched the students’ reactions—laughing and engaging with Duke’s every word—he could feel the palpable power of true authority.

Unlike when Duke was with Zeke, where he was composed but stern, the man now seemed delighted by the students’ enthusiastic responses.

With high expectations in the air, Duke began his life lecture, and for two hours, his story continued uninterrupted.

To Zeke’s surprise, Duke was quite a decent speaker.

The issue, however, was that he talked far too much.

Initially, the students were fully focused, but over time, it became clear they were growing tired.

As students training to become knights, they were accustomed to intense sparring sessions, not sitting still and listening to lengthy speeches.

Even Principal Flaubert, who had invited Duke, began to look uneasy as the lecture dragged on. He subtly signaled Duke to wrap it up, but Duke, thoroughly absorbed in his own story, ignored the hints and kept talking.

“And so, I told the head of the family, ‘Think it over again. This really isn’t the way.’ And then Arthur said—”

Just then, the lecture hall doors opened.

Clank. Clank.

The sound of metal reverberated as someone clad entirely in brilliant white-silver armor entered the room.

The knight’s platinum blonde hair flowed gracefully, starkly contrasting with the armor, and their face was as beautiful as a carved statue.

The students gasped in shock and awe, immediately rising from their seats.

“Th-The White-Silver Knight!”

“K-Kali Draker!”

It was none other than Kali Draker, the firstborn of the Draker family’s direct bloodline.