The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations Novel - Chapter 794

Chapter 794
Ghislain cocked his head to the side and inquired,
“So, you’ve arrived to guide us back to the Empire?”
“Guide you, is it… Indeed, we shall ensure your arrival is handled with extreme care.”
Darentz’s demeanor had shifted significantly. His mouth twitched as he fixed a venomous stare on Ghislain.
The Julien Mercenary Corps was the reason he had languished in this place for years—and the reason he was now missing a limb. It was impossible for him to harbor anything but malice toward them. However, since a direct assault wasn’t yet sanctioned, he had to suppress his fury.
In the shadow of Darentz, the killers from the Crips had already assembled.
Ghislain caught sight of them and let out a mocking huff.
“I’ve heard rumors that the world has become quite dangerous lately. Do you honestly believe this handful of men is sufficient to protect the Saintess? In fact, this doesn’t feel like a proper reception at all.”
“A reception?”
“Precisely. At the very least, you should be providing the same level of honor afforded to the Pope himself.”
Darentz merely shrugged, a small chuckle escaping him.
“Ah, there is no need for such concerns. We have arrived with more than enough power to show the required respect.”
Boom!
A sudden flare of fireworks exploded against the sky.
Only moments later—
Rumble!
The heavy rhythmic thud of marching boots signaled a massive column of soldiers approaching.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Warriors clad in heavy plate moved with mechanical precision, forming a tight perimeter around the group.
Following a brief pause, a sea of infantry filled the gaps behind the armored knights.
This was the Imperial legion, sent directly from the capital.
Ghislain scanned the ranks and remarked,
“Is this the extent of it? For the task of guarding the Saintess, the spectacle still feels a bit thin.”
“Heh heh heh… Now, this is quite something…”
Darentz gave a hollow laugh. Even when staring down the Empire’s finest, the man remained strangely unbothered. Considering they had several superhuman entities among them, perhaps his confidence wasn’t misplaced.
However, they were oblivious to the true scale of the preparations made for ‘escorting’ the Saintess.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
The vibrations in the ground intensified as additional regiments flooded the area.
These newcomers wore colors distinct from the Imperial guard—they were the private levies of the local nobility.
Before long, the encirclement spanned as far as the eye could see. A rough count suggested their numbers exceeded ten thousand men.
Darentz flashed a savage, toothy grin.
“Surely this is a grand enough escort for the Saintess. Are you finally satisfied?”
“You don’t look like the man holding the leash here. Why don’t you step aside and let the adults talk, boy?”
“You arrogant piece of…”
Darentz’s expression contorted with fury, yet he held his ground.
Despite his superhuman status, he possessed no legal rank to command the Imperial forces.
Then, the center of the blockade parted to allow a single figure through.
Clop, clop.
A man of middle age rode forward at a relaxed pace, stopping before the Julien Mercenary Corps.
Eyeing both Ghislain and Julien, he asked,
“I am Marquis Pherington, acting on the mandate of His Holiness the Pope. Pardon the interruption, but who serves as the leader here?”
Ghislain gave Julien a small shove. While Ghislain usually handled the talking, it was time for Julien to grow accustomed to the weight of leadership.
Julien moved to the front.
“I am Julien, head of the Julien Mercenary Corps. State your business.”
“To begin, I wish to express my profound admiration for your success in the holy task given by His Holiness. Your feats shall be etched into the Empire’s chronicles, and your names will be honored by those who follow. The Empire remembers its debts. Consequently, I have been sent—by the Pope’s direct command—to lead you to the heart of the Empire.”
“…”
Julien met the extravagant flattery with a heavy silence before replying,
“This feels like an unnecessary amount of force for a simple escort.”
“Recently, the Abyss has grown aggressive, rogue sorcerers are everywhere, and we have reports that agents of the Salvation Order are hunting you. Given those threats, these numbers are perfectly appropriate.”
“I see. In that case, I will trust you to see us safely to the Imperial capital.”
Pherington paused, momentarily stunned. He hadn’t anticipated such an easy capitulation.
‘…Are they truly this oblivious?’
It didn’t matter—his primary objective today was to verify and seize the Sacred Stones.
Maintaining a façade of high-born poise, he added,
“Before we move out, I must inspect the Sacred Stones.”
Julien signaled to Deneb, who quietly unfastened them from her jewelry—her necklace, her cuff, and her ring.
Cradled in her hand, the gems pulsed with a gentle, divine light.
Pherington’s eyes narrowed with greed. Reaching out a hand, he said,
“I shall take charge of them until we reach the capital. They will be far safer under my protection.”
“That is not going to happen.”
“I realize you are protective. However, the Empire recognizes your contribution and will guarantee your well-being. It is common knowledge that the Julien Mercenary Corps retrieved the Sacred Stones—there is no reason for this misplaced suspicion.”
His argument was logically sound. The mercenaries had gained fame for resolving crises across various lands, and returning the Stones would make them celebrated figures. The Church and the Crown would have to protect them just to maintain their own public image.
Yet, the mercenaries remained stone-faced.
In a time of peace, they might have trusted such words. But with the conflict against the Abyss looming, the Pope and the Emperor possessed the desperate motive and the raw power to betray them in a heartbeat.
Julien gave a resolute shake of his head.
“We are the ones who recovered the Sacred Stones, and the leaders of every other race have acknowledged us as their legitimate guardians.”
Pherington’s eyebrow twitched. His tone turned frostier.
“Am I to understand… that you are refusing to surrender them?”
“Correct. The Stones belong to Deneb. We journeyed to the Empire specifically to explain this reality to His Holiness and reach an accord.”
“…”
Pherington watched him, silent and calculating.
These were merely upstart soldiers of fortune, emboldened by their new superhuman status and the backing of foreign races. Perhaps they believed the Dragons would shield them.
Arterion’s threats had reached his ears. The fury of a Dragon was indeed a nightmare—but that was a problem for after the war. The immediate reality was the might of the Pope and the Empire, which no one could defy.
‘His Holiness already knew the Dragons would take this stance.’
That was why the Empire was prepared for a confrontation if it came to that.
The Pope was a man of unparalleled power—the clergy who knew his youth called him the most gifted soul in human history. That was how he had taken the throne without opposition.
And if he harnessed the power of the Stones… even Dragons could be brought to heel.
Pherington’s voice became razor-sharp.
“Julien, I am offering you one final opportunity. Surrender the Stones, this instant.”
“It will not happen.”
“Even if the alternative is your death here?”
Julien stared him down.
“Wasn’t it your plan to slaughter us from the beginning?”
“No.”
The rejection was sharp. While the orders were indeed to kill them and take the gems, engaging several superhumans was a gamble. He was certain of his victory, but the toll would be high, and he needed every soldier for the upcoming war.
The strategy had been to grab the Stones first, then eliminate the Corps members quietly later. Killing them all on this spot was supposed to be the backup plan.
Pherington softened his voice slightly, attempting one last manipulation.
“Give me the Sacred Stones. If you do, there is no reason for bloodshed. Such artifacts belong only to those with the standing to hold them.”
“The only one with that standing is Deneb.”
“If you persist in this defiance, we will be forced to cut you down.”
“Then feel free to make your attempt.”
In a heartbeat, the atmosphere between the two groups became lethally thin.
The members of the Julien Mercenary Corps moved their hands to their hilts with practiced ease. They were no fools; they understood exactly where this path led.
Marquis Pherington’s eyes burned with a clear desire to kill as he spoke.
“The rumors were true—you are nothing but stubborn idiots. Fine. I will take your lives along with the Sacred Stones.”
He raised his arm.
Clank! Clank! Clank!
Every soldier at his back raised their steel, shifting into an aggressive stance.
Suddenly, Lionel cried out and rushed to the front.
“What is the meaning of this!? How can you possibly do this!?”
He was in a state of utter disbelief. Why would they strike at the Julien Mercenary Corps while he, a devoted servant of the Church, stood among them?
Pherington looked down at Lionel.
“It has been some time. But this is no moment for pleasantries. Get out of the way.”
“My Lord! I have been carrying out the Pope’s own orders alongside the Julien Mercenary Corps!”
“Which is exactly why I am telling you to move. I have no desire to execute a servant of the Faith and the Empire.”
“What… what are you saying?”
“Are you truly that thick-headed? Did you honestly think the Empire would turn a blind eye to heretics who claim to be the Saintess and steal holy relics? When you return, you will face a rigorous trial for heresy—do not forget that.”
“A… heresy trial?”
“Exactly. For all I know, that sorceress has used her charms to make you turn your back on your god.”
Lionel’s eyes went wide with horror. Those words were a confirmation that the Pope had discarded him like trash.
The only reason they weren’t killing him right now was because of the crowd—they planned to drag him back to be executed in the capital.
Once he reached the Empire… he would be labeled a traitor to the faith and put to death in shame.
“M-my Lord… I have… I have given my life to His Holiness for years—”
“And? Your past deeds are irrelevant. All that matters now is whether you are a heretic or not.”
“I… I am no heretic.”
“Then go and take the Sacred Stones from that witch. Prove to me that your devotion is still intact.”
Lionel turned back, looking devastated.
Ghislain merely shrugged with a playful grin. Kyle watched with a smirk of amusement, Ereneth maintained her cold, royal dignity, Marika looked lost, and the rest of the mercenaries watched with the keen interest of people enjoying a theater performance.
Julien and Deneb, however, offered him only sad, gentle smiles.
Lionel bowed his head.
He had always feared a day might come when they would face the Imperial legions, but he had never truly believed it. He thought the Pope’s loyalty to him was unbreakable.
He had planned to act as a bridge—to convince His Holiness of the truth. After all, he had been a faithful shadow for years, and the Pope had always shown him favor.
But now… it was undeniable. They were prepared to butcher everyone, including him.
Lionel looked at Pherington with eyes full of grief, still struggling to accept he had been thrown away.
Trying to steady his cracking voice, he said,
“Please… let me pass. I will go to His Holiness myself… and ask if this is truly what he desires. I can make him understand.”
“Heretic.”
Screee!
Pherington pulled his blade from its sheath. A vibrant blue aura roared along the steel.
He was one of the premier superhumans of the Empire—a Swordmaster.
And he wasn’t alone. Other powerful figures stood with him, flanked by the Empire’s most elite knights and sorcerers.
Against the small group of thirty mercenaries, their overwhelming numbers were more than enough to annihilate them.
Pherington pointed his sword forward. He was seconds away from giving the command to slaughter—
When Ghislain suddenly snatched the Sacred Stones from Deneb’s palms and yelled,
“Hey! You wanted these, didn’t you? Fine, you can have them!”
“…What?”
Pherington paused. If he could secure the Stones without a fight, he could avoid the risk of losing men against superhumans.
But then—
“Here! Go and fetch them yourself!”
Ghislain pivoted and flung the Stones with every ounce of his superhuman strength.
Pherington’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head.
“You… you absolute madman—!”
They were standing near the docks. Which meant that behind them stretched the vast, deep ocean.
A normal human could never have thrown them that distance… but Ghislain was far from normal.
The Stones arced high into the sky before disappearing with a distant splash into the waves.
An oppressive silence fell over the shore.
Every single soldier, Pherington included, stood rooted to the spot, staring in shock at the water.
Ghislain shattered the quiet.
“Well? If you just sit there, you’ll never see them again. The current might take them… or perhaps a large fish has already made them a snack.”
“R-retrieve the Stones! Now! Sorcerers, move! Get them back this instant!”
At his roar, the knights in the front row panicked, tearing off their heavy plate mail before leaping into the surf. Mages took to the sky, flying frantically toward the splash zone.
“Anyone who can swim, get in the water! Now!”
Following the officers’ desperate shouts, soldiers began throwing themselves into the sea in massive numbers. Even the hidden assassins of the Crips joined the chaotic hunt.
In a matter of seconds, the disciplined Imperial formation turned into a disorganized mess.
Pherington, his face turning a dark shade of purple from rage, screamed,
“You idiot! You threw the Sacred Stones into the deep—do you have any idea what you’ve done!?”
The Stones were a trust given by the other races. If the Empire failed to recover them and also killed the mercenaries, the diplomatic fallout would fall solely on their shoulders.
Beyond that—who could be so reckless as to throw away the world’s greatest treasures?
Ghislain answered with a completely relaxed face.
“So what? You were going to murder us regardless. Why should we care about the Stones?”
“You… you…!”
“Better that no one has them. At least this way, the Pope will have all your heads for failing the mission.”
“You… you bastard…”
Pherington’s face was scarlet. He tried to argue, but he was lost for words because Ghislain’s logic was inescapable.
Snarling, he barked the only command he had left.
“Kill them! Kill them all now!”
He lunged at Ghislain, his blade whistling through the air.
Clash!
Ghislain brought up his staff to intercept the blow.
“You little brat—!”
Pherington’s aura flared with violent intensity as he pushed. But Ghislain didn’t give an inch.
Instead, a sharp, confident smile crossed his face.
“Naktura—since you’ve finally returned to this world, why don’t you show them what you can do?”
Roar!
A torrent of dark, ancient energy erupted in the air as a skeletal figure in tattered robes manifested.
The lich’s empty sockets burned with a terrifying blue fire after centuries of being sealed away.
Raising the staff high—
Fwoosh!
A colossal ball of flame ignited, illuminating the chaos.