Regression of The Guildless King

THE DELACROIX HEIR

Farrow Delacroix did not forget.

He did not forgive.

And he did not let go.

Cyrus knew this better than anyone. In his first life, Farrow had been a shadow—always watching, always waiting, always striking when least expected. The Delacroix heir was patient. Calculated. Deadly.

Which was why Cyrus was not surprised when the assassin came.

---

It happened three days after the market.

Cyrus was returning to the Hollow Tower, his mind occupied with cultivation theory. He had been pushing his body harder than usual—trying to reach Mortal Foundation Stage 1 before the week ended. Progress was slow. Painfully slow. His qi reserves were pathetic, his meridians weak from years of neglect.

He was so focused on his thoughts that he almost missed the shadow.

Almost.

The assassin struck from above—a blade of pure qi, silent and deadly. Cyrus threw himself sideways, rolling across the wet cobblestones. The blade carved a trench where he had been standing.

"System," Cyrus muttered, "show me—"

[HOST STATUS: MORTAL FOUNDATION - STAGE 0]

[QI RESERVES: 4/100]

[THREAT DETECTED: ASSASSIN - QI CONDENSATION STAGE 9]

[COMBAT PROTOCOL: UNAVAILABLE]

[WARNING: HOST IS OUTMATCHED]

Qi Condensation Stage 9. Cyrus was Stage 0. The gap was insurmountable.

The assassin landed on the cobblestones, his face hidden behind a black mask. His cultivation base radiated killing intent—cold, professional, efficient.

"Farrow sends his regards," the assassin said.

"Of course he does."

Cyrus didn't wait. He ran.

---

The Neutral Zone was a maze of narrow streets and crumbling buildings. Cyrus knew them all—he had spent years here in his first life, hiding from guilds, running from enemies, surviving.

He ducked into an alley, vaulted over a wall, and kept moving. Behind him, the assassin followed. Silent. Relentless.

"You can't escape," the assassin called out. "You're Guildless. Weak. Pathetic. This is mercy, Paxton. A quick death instead of a slow one."

Cyrus didn't answer. He was too busy thinking.

The assassin was faster. Stronger. Better trained. But Cyrus had something the assassin didn't.

Knowledge.

He turned left. Then right. Then left again. The assassin followed, but Cyrus could hear the confusion in his footsteps. They were heading toward the Weeping Canal—the toxic waterway where cultivation waste was dumped. The assassin wouldn't know that. But Cyrus did.

The canal appeared ahead, glowing faintly purple in the mist. Cyrus didn't slow down.

"What—" the assassin started.

Cyrus jumped.

---

The canal water was cold. Bitter. It burned his skin, but Cyrus didn't care. He had prepared for this. In his first life, he had learned to survive in the canal. The toxic energy was dangerous—but it could also mask his qi signature. To the assassin above, he would appear to have vanished.

The assassin stood at the edge of the canal, staring into the glowing water.

"Clever," he muttered. "But not clever enough."

He raised his hand. A sphere of qi formed in his palm—bright, deadly, ready to obliterate the entire canal.

Cyrus acted.

He burst from the water, his hand closing around the assassin's ankle. The man shouted in surprise as Cyrus pulled him into the canal. They wrestled in the toxic water, qi clashing with qi.

The assassin was stronger. But Cyrus was desperate.

And desperation was its own kind of power.

He drove his fist into the assassin's throat. Then his knee into the man's stomach. Then his forehead into the man's nose.

The assassin's qi flickered. His cultivation base wavered.

[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: ENEMY WEAKENED]

[OPPORTUNITY DETECTED]

Cyrus grabbed the assassin's head and slammed it against a submerged rock. Once. Twice. Three times.

The assassin went limp.

Cyrus dragged himself onto the canal bank, coughing up purple water. His body screamed in protest. His qi reserves were empty. His meridians felt like they were on fire.

But he was alive.

[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: ASSASSIN NEUTRALIZED]

[EXPERIENCE GAINED: +50]

[CULTIVATION PROGRESS: 3% TO STAGE 1]

[MEMORY INTEGRITY: 95.7%]

[LAST MEMORY LOST: THE NAME OF YOUR FIRST CULTIVATION TEACHER]

Cyrus closed his eyes. Another memory. Another piece of himself, gone.

But he was still alive.

---

Alvira found him an hour later, still sitting by the canal.

"You look like death," she said.

"Feel like it too."

She crouched beside him, her eyes scanning the body floating in the canal. "Delacroix assassin?"

"Farrow sent him."

"Of course he did." She sighed. "I told you not to provoke him."

"I didn't provoke him. I just... existed."

Alvira was silent for a moment. Then she laughed—that same sharp, surprised sound from before.

"You're going to be a problem, aren't you?"

"I'm going to be a lot of problems."

She helped him to his feet. "Come on. We need to get you cleaned up. And then we need to talk."

---

They went to a safehouse—a small room above a tavern in the eastern quarter of the Neutral Zone. It was cramped, dirty, and perfect. The tavern owner was Guildless, loyal to no guild, and asked no questions.

Alvira cleaned Cyrus's wounds while he told her about the assassin.

"Farrow will send more," she said. "He doesn't stop. He doesn't give up. He'll keep sending assassins until you're dead."

"I know."

"Then what's the plan?"

Cyrus was quiet for a moment. He had been thinking about this—not just since the assassination, but since he woke up in his younger body. Farrow Delacroix was a problem. But he was also an opportunity.

"I need to meet Beatrix Delacroix," he said.

Alvira's hands stopped moving. "Farrow's sister?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because she's the key." Cyrus met her eyes. "In my first life, Beatrix was the one who sabotaged the Delacroix family from within. She hated what they had become. She wanted to reform them. But she failed—because she was alone. If I can reach her, if I can convince her to work with us..."

"She could give us access to Delacroix secrets."

"And more importantly, she could stop Farrow from hunting us."

Alvira resumed cleaning his wounds. "How do you plan to meet her? She's the daughter of the most powerful guild family in the region. She doesn't exactly walk the streets."

"I know where she goes. There's a library in the Crowley Consortium Hub—the Forbidden Archive. Beatrix visits it every week. She's researching System theory. Trying to understand what the System really is."

"How do you know that?"

"Because in my first life, she was the one who taught me."

---

The Crowley Consortium Hub was a massive building—all sharp angles and cold stone. It sat at the edge of the Neutral Zone, a neutral ground where guilds sent their scholars and researchers.

Cyrus entered through the servant's entrance.

He had no guild markings, no credentials. But he had something better—knowledge. He knew the layout of the Hub from his past life. He knew which corridors were patrolled, which doors were locked, which guards could be bribed.

He moved through the building like a ghost.

The Forbidden Archive was in the basement—three levels below ground, sealed behind wards that would kill any unauthorized cultivator. But Cyrus wasn't a cultivator. Not really. His qi reserves were so pathetic that the wards barely registered him as a threat.

He slipped through the door just as it opened for a servant.

The Archive was vast. Shelves stretched into darkness, filled with books and scrolls and artifacts that radiated power. Cyrus ignored them all. He was looking for one person.

He found her in the back corner.

Beatrix Delacroix was not what he expected.

In his memories, she had been older—hardened by years of failure and sacrifice. But this Beatrix was young. Barely twenty. She sat at a small table, surrounded by open books, her dark hair falling over her face as she read.

She looked up when he approached.

"You're not supposed to be here," she said.

"Neither are you."

She raised an eyebrow. "I have permission. My family owns half the books in this Archive."

"Then you have permission to read. But not to understand."

Beatrix's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

Cyrus sat across from her. "You're researching the System. Trying to figure out what it really is. But you're not going to find the answers here. The Crowley family doesn't keep the truth in their books. They keep it in their blood."

Beatrix was silent for a long moment. Then she closed the book in front of her.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Cyrus Paxton. I'm Guildless. And I know things about the System that would make your family kill to keep secret."

"Like what?"

"Like the fact that the System isn't a tool. It's a prison. And your family has been guarding it for centuries."

Beatrix's face went pale. "That's... that's not possible."

"It's the truth. And I can prove it."

"How?"

Cyrus leaned forward. "Your brother Farrow sent an assassin to kill me three days ago. He failed. But he'll send more. He'll keep sending them until I'm dead—because I know something he doesn't want me to share."

"What do you know?"

"The System is dying."

The words hung in the air between them.

"What?" Beatrix whispered.

"The System is ancient. Broken. It's been fracturing for centuries, and now it's reaching a critical point. The guilds know—at least, the leaders do. They're hiding it from everyone. They're pretending everything is fine while the world falls apart around them."

Beatrix shook her head. "If that were true, my father would have told me."

"Would he?" Cyrus met her gaze. "Or would he keep it secret to maintain control?"

She didn't answer.

"I'm not asking you to trust me," Cyrus said. "I'm asking you to watch. To listen. To notice the things you've always ignored. The System is watching you, Beatrix. It's always watching. And once you see it, you can't unsee it."

He stood to leave.

"Wait." Beatrix's voice was small. "What do you want from me?"

"Nothing. Not yet." He paused at the door. "But when you're ready—when you've seen the truth for yourself—come find me. I'll be at the Hollow Tower."

He left.

---

Alvira was waiting for him outside the Hub.

"Well?" she asked.

"I planted the seed."

"Will it grow?"

"I don't know." Cyrus looked up at the sky—grey, overcast, endless. "But I have to try."

They walked back to the Neutral Zone in silence. Behind them, the Crowley Hub loomed like a tombstone. Ahead, the future waited.

Cyrus checked his System interface.

[REGRESSION STATUS: ACTIVE]

[TIMELINE SHIFT: SIGNIFICANT]

[NEW ALLY: POTENTIAL]

[NEW ENEMY: CONFIRMED]

[THE SYSTEM IS WATCHING]

He closed his eyes and kept walking.

He had lost another memory today—his first cultivation teacher's name. He couldn't remember the face anymore. He couldn't remember the voice.

But he remembered his purpose.

That was enough.