The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations Novel - Chapter 798

Chapter 798
Darentz stumbled back, his eyes darting frantically across the clearing.

Floating in the empty air, disconnected from any hand, were numerous daggers shrouded in sharp aura blades. Dozens of them hovered with lethal intent. It was a feat that defied logic, something he had never conceived as possible in his life as an assassin.

‘What… what kind of sorcery is this?’

To Darentz, the only logical explanation was that this was some form of draconic magic the girl had acquired. Regardless of its origin, the reality was terrifying. These glowing blades had formed a perfect perimeter around him. It felt as if he were being cornered by a small army of superhumans, the sheer pressure of their presence weighing down on his lungs.

‘There is no gap to exploit.’

Every direction he looked offered only the promise of a blade. Any attempt to move would trigger a relentless sequence of strikes. Darentz shifted his strategy. Killing Marika was no longer a viable or worthwhile objective. She had reached a level of power comparable to a superhuman; continuing this duel was suicide. If he transitioned entirely to a defensive flight, he might just live. To buy the moment he needed, he chose to speak.

“What sort of art is this? Did that dragon teach you magic?”

“This is the technique I perfected to end your life.”

“You… you developed this?”

“Indeed. I had to ensure I could slaughter every last one of you by myself.”

“……”

Darentz felt a cold lump in his throat. The realization that she had forged such a monstrous ability out of pure, concentrated spite was chilling. The sheer scale of the technique was overwhelming. How could they have missed such genius? They had monitored her since her infancy. Either her latent potential had exploded upon meeting the dragon, or she had been a master of deception her entire life.

Marika’s gaze was frigid. As she lifted her hand, the hovering daggers pulsed with an even more violent bloodlust.

“Darentz, there is something you never realized. I remember my childhood.”

“……”

“I acted the part of the blank slate just to stay alive. But every single day, I fought a private war to keep those memories from fading.”

“…At that age? You were a toddler.”

“I did it anyway.”

“…How is that even possible?”

“For me, it was the only choice.”

Darentz’s breathing became ragged. He found it nearly impossible to process. Every assassin in their ranks was an orphan, a necessary requirement to ensure they had no lingering attachments to the world. In this brutal age, however, finding natural orphans wasn’t always efficient. Once children grew up, they were valuable assets to lords. Other groups—thieves, spies, slavers—were always competing for the same “resource.”

Any organization that failed to maintain its numbers would rot from within. To prevent that, some groups manufactured their own recruits. They would butcher parents in the night to create orphans by morning.

Marika had been born in a simple mountain village. The leaders of the Crips had razed the settlement in a single night of slaughter, sparing only the sleeping children to be molded into killers. They fed the children lies, claiming bandits had destroyed their homes and that the Crips were their saviors. They were even gentle at first to win their trust. Because they were so young, the children usually forgot the truth within months, growing into loyal tools of the Crips.

Tears shimmered in Marika’s eyes as her voice shook.

“I woke up one day in your filth-ridden den. I refused to let my parents die a second time in my mind. I whispered their names to myself every day.”

“…You were only three years old.”

“Yes, and because of that, you all assumed I was a clean slate. I only kept quiet because I was terrified.”

“…Unthinkable.”

Neither Darentz nor any of the high-ranking Crips had understood that Marika was a generational prodigy. With her sharp intellect, she had never stopped questioning the world around her. She had dedicated her entire existence to masking her growth and surviving under their noses, all while clinging to the fading warmth of her parents’ love—the only light in her dark life.

As she matured, she uncovered the full scope of their depravity. She learned exactly how the “orphans” were made.

“You slaughtered families to create tools that wouldn’t betray you. You thought if they didn’t know the truth, they would stay loyal forever.”

“……”

Her accusation was an undeniable fact. Only a select few were chosen to learn the highest arts and become leaders—those who had joined willingly or whose families hadn’t been touched by the guild. Only those “clean” members were allowed to participate in the orphan-making raids. When Marika connected the dots, she swore to burn the Crips to the ground.

“Filth like you shouldn’t be allowed to breathe.”

Marika’s fingers twitched in the air. The daggers surrounding her carved arcs of light as they lunged simultaneously.

*Swaaaaaaash!*

Vibrant streaks of energy swirled around Darentz in a massive, shimmering vortex. It was a suffocating display, resembling a shower of dozens of falling stars.

*Kaaang! Kaaang! Kaaang!*

Darentz utilized his superhuman speed to parry the blades, but for every dagger he pushed aside, three more surged from his blind spots. The beams of light hammered him from every conceivable angle—overhead, from the flanks, and even rising from beneath the soil. He was given no quarter, no room to even draw a full breath.

*Kagagagagagang!*

Metal screamed against metal, sending showers of sparks flying. As the seconds ticked by, deep gashes began to open across Darentz’s skin. He tried to retreat, hoping to find a gap to bolt through, but the daggers only tightened their formation.

‘I’m trapped.’

The daggers weren’t just attacking; their luminous paths were weaving together, forming a spherical cage of pure lethality. Once the trap was closed, there was no exit.

“Ah……”

Darentz’s world was consumed by a blinding, aurora-like radiance.

*Kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa-BOOM!*

The blades descended like a hurricane. They twisted, dove, and lunged in a coordinated massacre. The storm of aura split his skin and shattered his skeleton. A mist of blood and light filled the air. Darentz’s movements became sluggish, his body jerking with the impact of every successful strike. When his resistance finally failed—

*Tok.*

The daggers froze in place. Drenched in his own blood, Darentz swayed on his feet, staring at Marika.

“How… how could you…”

His eyes were a chaotic whirlpool of terror, despair, shock, and mounting rage. Marika slowly reached out her hand.

“You cannot imagine how long I have lived for this moment.”

“Ghhhhh……”

“I couldn’t even allow myself to weep. I feared that even a single tear would reveal my secret to you.”

“Kuuhhh……”

“You will never comprehend the hell I lived through.”

“W-Wait… just listen…”

“Today… your legacy ends.”

“H-Have mercy… please…”

“Rot in hell.”

She snapped her fist shut.

*KWAANG!*

An explosion of light rocked the clearing as dozens of daggers converged at the center, skewering Darentz’s body from every direction. He froze, his face a mask of pure horror. A heartbeat later—

*Thududuk.*

Darentz’s form came apart in dozens of segments, collapsing into a heap on the ground. Marika looked down at the remains and exhaled a long, heavy sigh. It felt as though a mountain that had rested on her chest for years had finally crumbled.

“…Thank the gods.”

It had been an agonizing journey. She had lived every hour in fear of discovery, terrified that someone would see the memory of her parents in her eyes. Despite that fear, she had never stopped refining her lethal craft. Her enemies had seemed insurmountable, but she had never wavered. She had even attempted to manipulate the Pope’s orders to bring them down. That specific gambit had failed, but…

Marika allowed herself a small smile. Because of that failure, she had found something far more valuable.

“…Truly, I am grateful.”

She whispered the words to herself. She was thankful she had crossed paths with the Julien Mercenary Corps. Without them, she would never have had the chance to claim this vengeance with her own hands. It was a miracle she hadn’t expected.

Her expression turning lighter, Marika signaled her blades. They shot outward like shrapnel, seeking out the hidden Crips assassins lurking in the periphery. Today, the organization would be wiped from existence.

*Skaak! Skaak! Skaak!*

Marika moved with fluid grace, hunting the remaining guild members and cutting down any Imperial knights who stood in her path. With another superhuman-tier warrior joining the fray, the Imperial lines began to shatter. The presence of an invisible executioner darting through the ranks sent the enemy into a total panic.

As she moved across the field, Marika passed close to Ghislain.

“…Thank you,” she murmured as she slipped by.

She meant it from the bottom of her heart. Without his intervention, she wouldn’t have had the strength to settle this debt personally. Ghislain rested his spear against his shoulder and offered a crooked, knowing grin.

“Don’t mention it.”

He knew the truth: Marika would have succeeded eventually even without him. He had simply accelerated the timeline, though he didn’t feel the need to point that out.

Ghislain scanned the area. The Imperial soldiers had begun to form a desperate defensive shell. It wasn’t a strategic order from above; it was a primal, collective instinct to survive. Despite the frantic screaming of their officers in the rear, the rank-and-file refused to move forward.

“Shall we wrap this up?”

Ghislain gripped his spear firmly. The Julien Mercenary Corps was reaching its limit. There was no benefit to prolonging the carnage.

*Dudududududu!*

His mount thundered across the dirt once more. Ghislain’s voice boomed over the noise of battle, directed at the cowering Imperial infantry.

“Clear the way!”

At his command, the soldiers recoiled, physically carving a path for him. They were like sheep parting before a wolf. Ghislain’s eyes were fixed on the high-ranking officers, mages, and clerics who had been directing the battle from the safety of the rear.

The commanders began to shriek in a panic.

“S-Stop him! Block him at all costs!”

But the soldiers were paralyzed. They were too busy flinching from the projectiles whistling through the air to obey.

*Dudududududu!*

A group of knights guarding the command post stepped forward, their faces grim but determined. They did not break, held together by their sense of knightly duty. Ghislain’s lips curled into a dry smile.

“Impressive resolve.”

Blue mana began to swirl around the tip of his spear, extending into a shimmering lance of light.

“But a fatal mistake.”

*KWAANG!*

Ghislain swung the spear in a wide arc. The first knight to reach him was decapitated instantly. As a fountain of red sprayed against the sky, the spear was already buried in the chest of the second. Before the third could even react, the blunt end of the weapon shattered his helmet and the head inside it.

*KWAANG! KWAANG! KWAANG!*

Ghislain was a blur, moving like a lightning strike through a darkened sky. Every swing sent knights flying, dead before they hit the ground. The only sounds were the brief gasps of the dying, the crunch of heavy plate armor, and the dull thud of corpses.

In seconds, the defensive line was a ruin. The Imperial leadership—the nobles, mages, and priests—stood entirely exposed.

The mages, gripped by terror, began channeling every drop of mana into protective barriers. The priests followed suit, praying for divine protection. But then, a fresh nightmare descended upon the battlefield.

*KWA-AAAAANG!*

Naktura’s 8th-Circle spells tore through the ranks. Ereneth’s spirits went on a rampage, shredding the remaining Imperial cohesion. Mages and summoners who were left unchecked on a battlefield were the equivalent of natural disasters. Even the mercenaries stood back in awe of the sheer devastation.

“Uaaaagh!”

“Where is our magical support?!”

“Counter that magic, now!”

The air was thick with the screams of the Imperial soldiers. But the mages and priests in the rear could not respond. They were paralyzed because Ghislain was standing right in front of them, a figure of terror more immediate than any spell. A few more brave knights tried to charge, but they were cut down before they could even level their blades.

Ghislain leveled his spear at the group and spoke calmly.

“Who is the highest-ranking officer left alive?”

Every head turned toward one man. Eventually, a middle-aged noble raised a trembling hand.

“V-Viscount Horento.”

“You still have thousands of men. Do you intend to keep fighting?”

“……”

“I’ll give you three seconds to decide. One… two…”

“We surrender! We yield!”

At Horento’s frantic cry, Ghislain lowered his weapon.

“Mages, use your amplification spells. Announce the surrender to the entire field.”

The mages didn’t hesitate. Soon, the voices of Viscount Horento and the remaining staff echoed across the carnage.

“Lay down your arms! The Imperial Army surrenders!”

“We have been defeated!”

“Cease all hostilities! Surrender immediately!”

The Julien Mercenary Corps ground to a halt. Across the field, the remaining Imperial knights and infantry dropped their weapons and fell to their knees. Naktura feigned ignorance and tried to weave one more lethal spell, but Ereneth’s spirits physically blocked the casting.

Ghislain looked over the sea of surrendering soldiers with a look of grim satisfaction.

“I can respect this.”

It wasn’t just the victory. It was the fact that, despite losing their champions and facing certain doom, they had held their ground until the formal order was given. While they had been terrified, they hadn’t deserted or broken ranks prematurely. They were exactly what he expected: a professional army forged for the war against the Demonic Realm.

Ghislain hopped off his horse and beckoned the Viscount.

“Come here. I have a few things to ask you.”

Viscount Horento dismounted and approached with shaky steps. Suddenly, Ghislain pulled a polished hand axe from his belt.

“From this point on, you need to be very sensitive to my moods. Do you understand?”

Though he didn’t quite grasp the intent, Viscount Horento nodded as fast as he could.