The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations Novel - Chapter 779

Chapter 779
This time, there was no requirement to travel with the same frantic haste as before. Unless the Salvation Order committed their entire strength, they lacked the power to threaten the Dragon Lord. Furthermore, the territory where Arterion resided was a region of brutal, freezing temperatures. The Salvation Order had no means of orchestrating any schemes in such a climate.

While a combined effort from every prophet might have made it possible, the hazards were far too extreme. There were far more profitable targets elsewhere; sacrificing elite military strength against a dragon prematurely made little sense. Consequently, Ghislain was able to lead the group at a much more relaxed pace.

“Everyone is aware of where we are headed next, correct?”

In response to his inquiry, the group offered tense nods. Even the usually courageous Ereneth appeared uneasy. Dragons were legendary entities typically only encountered during the Great War. People rarely dared to even approach the borders of their domains. To learn they were seeking an audience not just with any dragon, but with a Dragon Lord—it was enough to make anyone’s nerves fray.

Ghislain offered a faint smirk as he spoke. “Don’t look so terrified. Just because it’s a dragon doesn’t mean it’s immune to a blade.”

The group remained silent. The sheer audacity of suggesting one could simply stab the world’s most powerful predator—where did such reckless confidence originate? Anxiety weighed heavily on everyone’s hearts.

*‘I just hope he doesn’t provoke the dragon.’*
*‘Regardless of Ghislain’s power, taking on a dragon is pure madness.’*
*‘It’s not a miracle that the Saintess has appeared… the real miracle is that we are still breathing.’*

Observing the grim mood, Ghislain clicked his tongue. *‘Should I mention that I’ve actually slain Arterion in the past?’* People already viewed him as half-mad. If he made a claim like that, they would think he had completely lost his mind. Besides, they didn’t have the collective power to defeat Arterion currently anyway, so he decided to remain quiet.

*‘Truly, it’s a pity I can’t brag about beating him.’*

His tongue burned with the desire to speak, but he restrained himself. He recalled the lecture Elena had given him once.

— “Oppa, your mouth is your biggest flaw. I told you to stop saying such frightening things.”
— “…What did I even do?”
— “Just stop with the strange talk. That way, strange things won’t keep happening to us.”
— “…Fine.”

In the past, he had been blamed for “summoning” the dragon through his words, which had sparked a mountain of ridiculous rumors. He had no desire to deal with that kind of misunderstanding again. Ghislain pressed his lips together and forced his inner impulses down.

Ghislain didn’t simply race toward their objective. Recently, numerous settlements had been devastated by the rampages of dark mages across the continent. Whenever they encountered a secluded village that had been denied aid, the Julien Mercenary Corps would halt their march to assist the inhabitants. Their efforts primarily focused on medical care and physical reconstruction.

In this era, even minor ailments often turned fatal for commoners who lacked resources. However, Deneb—whose holy power was surging following her awakening—cured them with effortless grace.

“Thank you! We are so grateful!”

The healed villagers and their kin wept as they bowed before Deneb. To those who had never witnessed holy power, she was a living manifestation of a “miracle.” Deneb always offered her aid with a gentle, selfless smile. And every single time, Ghislain would step forward to ensure everyone knew her identity.

“This is the Saintess, ordained by the Goddess to deliver this world from darkness!”
“Ooooooh!”
“Tell everyone you know about the Saintess! Ensure the news spreads! Do you understand?”
“Yes, Lord!”

The crowds erupted in cheers for Deneb. There was no reason to question a woman who healed the suffering and smiled with such genuine warmth. Even when Deneb, flushing with embarrassment, asked him to stop, Ghislain ignored her and intensified his promotion. He didn’t stop with her, either.

“What? Monsters are prowling nearby? The ‘Julien Mercenary Corps’ will handle them!”
“You have no bread? Eat meat then! No meat? The ‘Julien Mercenary Corps’ will provide it!”
“Your home is in ruins? The ‘Julien Mercenary Corps’ will rebuild it!”

He hammered the name of the mercenary group into their minds until it was unforgettable. They were already well-known in several kingdoms, but Ghislain felt their fame was still insufficient.

*‘If we want our influence to spread, we have to be thorough.’*

From the city slums to the furthest reaches of the mountains, everyone needed to recognize the names of the ‘Julien Mercenary Corps’ and ‘Saintess Deneb.’ Julien and Deneb needed the collective devotion of the entire continent. It was a massive undertaking. Thus, throughout the journey, Ghislain remained focused on these acts of service and public relations.

One afternoon, Julien approached Ghislain and spoke in a low voice. “Ghislain. You’ve noticed them, haven’t you?”
“Yeah. Let’s leave them be for the time being.”

For some time, they had been shadowed by a group of pursuers. They were few in number but clearly possessed significant skill. It was difficult to determine exactly when the tail had started, as they had moved through so many locations. Ghislain felt no rush. The followers maintained their distance and moved in a staggered formation. Rather than acting impulsively, he wanted to uncover their identity first.

Ghislain commanded Dark into the air and requested that Ereneth’s spirits monitor them closely. *‘Hmph…’* Through Dark’s vision, he saw individuals dressed as common travelers. However, it was no coincidence; their movements were too calculated and stealthy—the hallmarks of professional thieves or assassins. Still, without proof of hostile intent, Ghislain chose to wait for them to close the gap.

As they traveled, the group arrived at a large village. This place, too, had been scarred by monster attacks, and the people were busy with repairs.

“We’ll set up camp here for a bit. We can help with the construction while we wait.”

If the pursuers were truly after them, Ghislain planned to bait them here. He approached the village leader immediately. “We are the Julien Mercenary Corps. We’ll assist with your rebuilding free of charge.”
“Is that true?”
“Certainly. In return, simply speak of us to any travelers who pass through.”
“If you are helping us, we would be honored! Thank you!”

The village chief bowed deeply, a wide grin on his face. Rebuilding required immense labor and capital. Though the local lord had sent some funds, there was a desperate shortage of workers. Having dozens of powerful mercenaries volunteer was a godsend. There were other nobles who sought to gain prestige this way, so the chief accepted the help without suspicion. Furthermore, the village was poor enough that he didn’t fear being robbed.

“Alright, everyone move! Let’s get to work like usual!”

From that day on, the Julien Mercenary Corps labored alongside the villagers, hauling stone and timber. Some hunted to secure a supply of meat, while Deneb tended to the infirm. The villagers responded with immense hospitality, preparing the best meals they could and assisting the mercenaries with chores and laundry.

“They call themselves the Julien Mercenary Corps, right?”
“I didn’t think such kind mercenaries existed anymore.”
“The Saintess is a blessing. She’s cured everyone.”
“The Goddess must have sent them. We have to make sure everyone hears about them.”

Just as Ghislain had planned, their reputation flourished. Amidst this peaceful atmosphere, Ghislain noticed several new travelers entering the village. *‘…Hmph.’* It was the group that had been following them. They paid the chief for lodging and prepared to stay.

Why had they suddenly closed the distance? Was it a coincidence? Unlikely—especially since several of their companions remained outside the village walls. Those inside kept to themselves, avoiding the locals and resting in silence.

*‘I need to observe them a bit longer.’*

Their true purpose remained a mystery. Moving too soon might scare off the “big fish.” He simply instructed his men to remain vigilant. In this way, a silent tension existed between the two groups.

However, Osvald was an exception. He rarely had any complex thoughts, which meant he felt no tension at all. That evening, after indulging in some local spirits provided by the villagers, Osvald went out to clear his head.

“Whew… what a night… I can feel a revolution brewing.”

He leaned into the alcoholic buzz, enjoying the sensation. In his drunken state, he wandered the village, hoping to find a suitable rock to carve his personal philosophy into. He eventually noticed a building that was still illuminated.

“Hm? What’s going on over there?”

He recognized it as a structure near where they were staying. A sudden, mischievous idea struck him. *‘If I recall correctly, just behind that building…’*

Because of the ongoing construction, the village women had been using a specific back area for communal bathing at night. Osvald began to creep toward it. In his mind, his intent was noble: he was “guarding” the women. He pressed his ear against the wall as he drew closer.

“Those mercenaries are such gentlemen, aren’t they?”
“Some of them keep their faces hidden. I wonder why.”
“I heard a rumor they’re so beautiful they have to hide it.”

He listened to the women gossiping, mostly about his own group. *‘Being admired like this… it’s revolutionary.’* Grinning, Osvald used some nearby lumber to scale the wall toward a high, small window. *‘For the revolution.’* He told himself he was checking for safety or perhaps scouting new members for his “Revolutionary Corps.”

But whether it was his excitement or the liquor, his foot slipped.
*Clatter!*
“Whoops!”

Osvald let out a loud shout as he tumbled. Immediately, screams pierced the air from inside.
“Kyaaah! Someone’s out there!”
“A pervert!”
“We’re being watched!”

Osvald felt a revolutionary sense of injustice. He hadn’t even seen anything yet! Regardless, he had been caught in the act. He tried to scramble away, but several men from the nearby inn rushed out to investigate.

“Who goes there?!”
“Stop!”

Osvald didn’t stop. “Get out of my way!”
*Crash!*

He plowed through the men with overwhelming strength. The local village youths were no match for him and were sent flying. Once clear, Osvald sprinted back to the mercenary quarters.

“Huff… huff!”
“What happened to you? Why are you gasping like that?”
“What were you doing out there?”

The other mercenaries looked at the red-faced, panting Osvald with suspicion. Panicked, Osvald stammered a quick lie. “R-… Revolution…”
“What?”
“I mean—I saw some criminals bothering the women, so I handled them.”
“Oh, is that all?”

The mercenaries didn’t give it a second thought. They had dealt with many bandits on the road. Helping for free was why they were becoming famous. They moved on—but the villagers did not. News of a “voyeur” spread like wildfire. The problem was that some of the young men had recognized Osvald.

A short time later, the village chief arrived at Ghislain’s door with a group of angry villagers, including the bruised young men and several furious women. Ghislain was confused until a mercenary whispered the news. “Sounds like Osvald beat up some local troublemakers.”

Ghislain tilted his head. That sounded positive—so why the hostility? After a moment, he thought he understood. *‘Aha. I see.’* He assumed the “troublemakers” were actually the chief’s cronies or family members. *‘I’ve seen this before.’* Small villages where the chief and his kin acted as local tyrants. Ghislain had liberated many such places. The Julien Mercenary Corps was always righteous—and very aggressive about it.

Ghislain’s gaze turned icy. His voice became sharp and threatening. “What is the meaning of this?”

Startled by the change in his demeanor, the chief stammered. “H-have you heard what took place?”
“I’ve heard plenty. And?”
“And? Well… I didn’t think he was that sort of man…”
“Then you were mistaken. This is how we operate.”
“You… you all do?”
“Yes. Every member of the Julien Mercenary Corps is exactly like that.”

Hearing Ghislain’s stern defense, the surrounding mercenaries stood tall with pride. The villagers were absolutely horrified. Meanwhile, Osvald simply kept his head down, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes.