The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations Novel - Chapter 783

Chapter 783
Marika stood frozen, observing the display for a long duration. Upon reflection, her frantic escape had been so consuming that she hadn’t managed to voice the question burning in her mind. How was it possible for him to execute the very technique she utilized—and with such superior mastery?

‘That is…’

It was the precise manifestation of the goal she had pursued in her dreams. She had never truly believed such a level of perfection was attainable; she had simply been striving toward that distant peak. Yet, here was a total stranger turning her theoretical vision into reality.

With a slight tremor in her voice, Marika spoke up.

“H-How are you familiar with that style?”

“I just… spent some time thinking about how to handle daggers more effectively and did some research?”

Ghislain offered a vague explanation. In truth, Belinda had passed this knowledge to him, having received it as her mother’s inheritance. Its ultimate source was almost certainly the young woman standing right there—Marika. However, he couldn’t explain that timeline. He still needed to verify if Marika had truly invented this herself or if it originated from the Crips organization.

Her face a mix of shock and raw sentiment, Marika asked with lingering wonder.

“It isn’t… some form of magic?”

“It is purely mana-based. The technique is designed to be powered entirely by one’s internal energy.”

“Then it truly… was achievable. I assumed it was just a fantasy I’d cooked up. I never imagined another soul would have the same thought—let alone actually master it.”

‘Good grief…’

Ghislain maintained a stoic exterior, but he was internally stunned. It was confirmed: Marika was the true architect of this style.

Remaining composed, Ghislain inquired.

“This technique of yours… you didn’t acquire it from Crips?”

“Hardly. They don’t waste quality instruction on bottom-tier killers like us.”

“Bottom-tier… killers?”

Ghislain looked at her and her crew. They were highly capable; calling them low-level felt like a massive understatement.

Marika gave a small nod.

“Yes. They only taught us the most rudimentary forms. Just a cheap way to circulate mana, nothing more. To get anything better, you have to pull off a major hit or spend decades proving your absolute devotion.”

“For having such basic training… your movements were remarkably refined.”

She looked slightly flustered by Ghislain’s praise.

“To tell the truth, I developed those forms myself. Even the way we move our mana.”

“You invented them… on your own?”

“I realized early on that I’d never be given anything of value, so I started experimenting as a kid.”

“…”

“I shared what I learned with my group in secret, bit by bit.”

“And you weren’t discovered?”

“It was incredibly difficult to stay hidden. I was constantly tweaking and perfecting the movements while we trained in the shadows. If the higher-ups had found out, we would have been finished.”

Marika gave a strained smile before continuing.

“Honestly, I had no reference for the world outside. I didn’t know where we stood. I felt a bit of pride, but I suppose we were just small fish in a tiny pond.”

She meant every word. Without real-world combat experience against outsiders, she couldn’t gauge her own prowess. After being bested by Ghislain, she had assumed her self-taught methods were mediocre.

Internally, however, Ghislain was reeling.

‘…She is an absolute prodigy.’

Julien and Kyle had been trained by the spirit-inhabited Astion and forged in the fires of battle. Ghislain had channeled those perfected techniques through his prophetic dreams to teach them. Because of that, their growth had surpassed their original histories. Lionel was similar, coming from a background of noble martial traditions which Ghislain had augmented with future royal techniques.

But Marika was in a league of her own. She hadn’t refined a pre-existing system; she had received no formal education of quality. Using only the scraps discarded by her organization and the most basic fundamentals, she had constructed a martial art capable of impacting the entire continent.

The realization left him deeply impressed.

‘Has there ever been a talent like this?’

His other companions were geniuses, certainly, but they all sat upon foundations of established knowledge or elite mentorship. Marika had built a masterpiece from nothing. Though it wasn’t yet complete, Ghislain knew she would eventually fulfill her vision.

Clearing his throat, Ghislain said, “Ahem, you definitely possess a rare gift. Accomplishing all that independently is a massive feat.”

“…So? It hasn’t done me much good.”

“Don’t say that! You think creating a new style is simple? If it were, everyone would be doing it. It’s a rare ability. So, uh, don’t let it go to your head, alright?”

It was a strange mix of a compliment and a lecture.

With that, Ghislain allowed the suspended blades to drop.

“Anyway, I’m going to teach you this style. I’ll even help you fix your mana circulation. With that, you’ll be able to reach the rank of a transcendent.”

Anyone else would have been overjoyed, but Marika’s first instinct was suspicion. It made sense; she had spent her life hiding from her own masters. Trust didn’t come easily.

She asked tentatively, “Why? Why would you do all this for me?”

Ghislain paused to consider his answer. He knew building trust would take time, and he couldn’t convince her overnight. But he couldn’t risk letting her walk away.

‘The timeline is already shifting.’

He wasn’t sure how the original past unfolded exactly, but with the deaths of Rahamod and Tagmah, history was clearly off the tracks. That meant Marika’s survival wasn’t guaranteed. If he let her leave now, she might not survive to become the hero she was meant to be. He needed her here, growing alongside the Hero’s party.

He couldn’t tell her he was from the future. Instead, he spoke from the heart.

“It simply… reminds me of my own past.”

“Your past?”

A rush of mana surrounded them, forming a barrier to ensure their words remained private.

“I also lost people who meant everything to me… and lived only for vengeance.”

“…”

“I don’t expect you to trust me immediately. But I believe you understand the weight of those feelings.”

Ghislain spoke openly about the emotions that had driven him—the years spent dreaming of retribution, the agony, and the crushing isolation. As he spoke, Marika rubbed her eyes, unable to stop the tears from surfacing. She believed him. The depth of his words could only come from someone who had walked that same dark path.

She asked softly, “You… did you get your revenge?”

Ghislain offered a faint, sad smile and shook his head.

“Not entirely. There is still unfinished business.”

He had failed to catch Ernheart. If he ever returned to his own time, he would have to find and end him. The cycle wasn’t over.

Looking at her with a soft gaze, he said, “…When I see you, it’s like looking into a mirror of my younger self. That’s why I’m helping.”

“…”

“I’ll give you every bit of knowledge I have. You’ll learn faster than anyone. One day… you truly will be the greatest assassin this continent has ever seen.”

He kept the future to himself, but his sincerity was real. He knew her destiny—to save the world as a companion to the Hero, to help found the Kingdom of Ruthania, and to lead the Shadow Knights. Even if she was misleading him now, it didn’t matter. What mattered was bringing her into the Julien Mercenary Corps.

Wiping her nose, Marika asked, “Are you… sure about this? My presence might put your people in danger.”

“It’s no problem. If anyone comes for us, we’ll break them. Once you’re an official member of our corps, they won’t find you such an easy target.”

Ghislain was fiercely protective of his own. Having decided to claim Marika as an ally, he was ready to back her with everything he had. His unwavering confidence actually made Marika smile.

‘He’s a bit of a weirdo… but somehow, I feel safe.’

The idea of being the world’s greatest assassin seemed like a dream, but looking at Ghislain’s poise, she felt it might be possible. It was a logical move, too. Joining the Julien Mercenary Corps offered her immediate protection and a chance to gain strength.

‘Fine, I’ll stay… I’ll just use them for a while…’

She tried to remain cynical, telling herself she was just exploiting the situation. But her tears wouldn’t stop.

‘I’m being so pathetic…’

His words were breaking through her defenses. She had been so alone for so long, never knowing if she’d see the next sunrise, never sleeping soundly. She had been a solitary weapon fueled by spite, with no one to lean on. In the middle of that exhausting existence, Ghislain’s support felt like a lifeline.

Finally, Marika bowed her head and whispered.

“For the time being… I’ll be in your care.”

“Excellent. From this moment on, you’re a member of the Julien Mercenary Corps.”

Ghislain snapped his fingers, and the mana barrier dissipated. He turned to the group.

“Marika is joining us. Everyone, make her feel welcome.”

The members of the Julien Mercenary Corps nodded in unison. No one questioned the decision. Their faith in Ghislain was absolute; if he trusted her, they did too. Besides, once Ghislain set his mind on something, there was no changing it.

Marika looked at the group, bowing slightly.

“I look forward to working with you… I know our introduction was a bit chaotic, but…”

Julien stepped forward with a warm, radiant smile.

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s look out for one another.”

He had the kind of perfect, handsome face that usually made people stare.

Marika began cataloging her new teammates in her mind.

‘The handsome weirdo.’

Next was Kyle, who stepped up with a cocky grin.

“You look like you’ve got some fight in you. Let’s hit the training grounds later. I’ll show you what real power looks like.”

‘The loud weirdo.’

Deneb offered a gentle, kind smile.

“Welcome. May the Goddess watch over you through all our trials.”

‘The holy weirdo.’

Ereneth pulled back her hood, maintaining a cool, aloof dignity.

“Greetings. I am Ereneth.”

‘The elf weirdo.’

Lionel spoke with a very serious, noble air.

“I assume you recognize me. Despite the initial friction, you are safe under our banner. I personally guarantee it.”

‘The imperial weirdo.’

They were an eccentric bunch, but they seemed genuinely kind. Marika felt a strange warmth toward them—perhaps a side effect of her long years of solitude.

‘I’ll have to make sure they don’t do anything too perverted in the future.’

She was the newcomer, but she resolved to keep an eye on their more questionable behavior.

Marika’s subordinates were also folded into the Julien Mercenary Corps. Though they looked confused, they were secretly relieved. They followed Marika out of shared trauma and had expected to die in a ditch. Having a future was a welcome change.

Lionel addressed Marika and the other former assassins with a stern expression.

“The Julien Mercenary Corps follows a very strict code of conduct. There is one thing you must understand immediately.”

“…???”

“As of today, you are the recruits. Don’t you forget it.”

Lionel went on about the many chores assigned to the lowest-ranking members. He was desperate to hand off his rookie duties to someone else. Since Ereneth had joined but was treated with high regard, Lionel had remained the group’s errand boy, a fact that clearly annoyed him.

Marika gave a small smile. “Understood. I can handle that.”

Having survived a brutal assassin cult since childhood, doing chores for a mercenary group was child’s play. Lionel let out a breath he’d been holding.

‘Good. If she’d fought me on it, things would have gotten awkward.’

He could tell Marika was a dangerous combatant. If he had tried to exert authority and she’d flattened him, it would have been a disaster for his ego.

With the social order established, they prepared to move out. Before they left, Ghislain turned toward the surrounding woods and shouted.

“Marika is officially part of the Julien Mercenary Corps now! Remember that before you try anything stupid!”

It was a clear warning to the Crips agents lurking in the shadows. They were undoubtedly reeling from the turn of events.

“Right, let’s go. This place doesn’t agree with me.”

At Ghislain’s command, the group gathered their gear and hit the road. The locals watched them leave with a mixture of fear and relief.

“Those lunatics are finally moving on.”

“Poor travelers… I wonder what will become of them?”

“It’s not our business. We’re better off not knowing.”

To the townspeople, it looked like the mercenary group had kidnapped a band of innocent travelers after a beating. It was a tragedy, but they were too intimidated by the group’s strange energy to intervene.

Once the dust settled, the village elder gave a stern directive.

“Everyone, keep quiet about this. We don’t want this getting out.”

They weren’t protecting the mercenaries; they were protecting themselves. They didn’t want the “lunatics” returning to silence any rumors. The fact that Ghislain had paid them handsomely also helped smooth things over, but mostly, they just wanted to forget the encounter.

The elder quickly hammered a sign into the ground at the village entrance:

[No Entry for Outsiders (Especially Mercenaries)]

They were done with strangers for a long time. Thanks to the elder’s paranoia, the reputation of the Julien Mercenary Corps didn’t spread any further—at least, not from this village.