The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations Novel - Chapter 800

Chapter 800
Viscount Horento gulped, his throat tight with anxiety.

Despite his best efforts to maintain a facade of composure, he knew deceiving the sharp intuition of a superhuman was a losing game. After all, a warrior of that caliber would be useless if they couldn’t detect a simple spike in nervous energy. At that moment, the terrifying reputation of Count Braxian flashed through his mind: “The Ruthless Mad Dog.”

Braxian was a man born into the ruins of a fallen noble house. He had dragged himself up from the dirt by any means necessary, eventually reaching the heights of superhuman status, wealth, and prestige. It was whispered that the path he took was paved with enough corpses to clog a river. Even so, established aristocrats had looked down on his low birth, stalling his advancement. To a man like him, this massive conflict was the ultimate ladder to the top. Such a predator wouldn’t overlook even the slightest tremor in a person’s voice.

*He’s on to me. He definitely suspects something,* Horento thought frantically.

He felt a desperate urge to kick his horse into a gallop and get away, or perhaps scream for Braxian to annihilate the Julien Mercenary Corps. But right behind him was Ghislain—another lunatic superhuman who was far more frightening. Survival meant navigating this narrow tightrope.

Drawing a deep breath, Horento forced his face into a mask of stern annoyance.

“I won’t deny I’m on edge,” he snapped. “I’m surrounded by rows of grim soldiers on both sides; anyone would feel the pressure. It’s a basic human reaction, and I am hardly a seasoned warrior.”

“Is that so…?” Braxian mused.

“Furthermore, the Imperial Army just botched their objective. I’ll be the one answering for that failure. Wouldn’t it be more suspicious if I were perfectly calm?”

Horento poured every ounce of his acting ability into the performance. It was a raw, desperate play for his life. In reality, he wanted nothing more than to beg Braxian to kill the mercenaries, but his argument was logically sound.

Count Braxian gave a slow nod. “I hear your point. However, there is a detail that doesn’t quite sit right.”

“Then out with it! Do you not understand the gravity of stalling an envoy of the Empire?”

“I am well aware. Which is why I’ll be blunt.” Braxian’s eyes swept over Horento and the gathered mercenaries again. “I recently came across a fascinating story.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“A few years back, some servants and kitchen staff from our realm were taken by a dragon. They were finally returned just a few days ago.”

“…”

“Because of them, our kingdom learned quite a bit about the internal makeup of the Julien Mercenary Corps. It’s an interesting bit of luck, wouldn’t you say?”

“What… what kind of luck?” Horento stammered.

Braxian leveled a freezing stare at the mercenaries and pointed a finger. “Aside from you, Viscount… the number of people in this group matches the witnesses’ descriptions perfectly.”

“That’s ridiculous! The Imperial records clearly stated the count was—”

“No. The numbers for the Julien Mercenary Corps in the initial Imperial briefing were incorrect. We have the real figures.”

The Empire’s data had been missing Marika and her team because Darentz, terrified of the Pope’s wrath, had hidden the truth. The Empire had been operating on false data from the start, but the Snowbur Kingdom had fresh, accurate information from the returned captives. They hadn’t bothered to share it because they expected the mercenaries to be wiped out by the Imperial Army immediately. But Count Braxian had a keen memory, and the discrepancy was glaring.

“Hkk!”

A sudden hiccup escaped Horento’s throat. He gripped his chest, his voice trembling. “T-this is preposterous! Do you honestly think I’d be traveling with the Julien Mercenary Corps? Do you think Marquis Pherington and ten thousand Imperial troops are incompetent fools?”

Horento clung to the sheer absurdity of the situation. It was his only shield, even if that very absurdity was the reality unfolding before them.

Braxian’s mouth curled into a mocking smile. “I agree. It makes no sense. But the world is full of impossible things. So, you’ll stay here for a moment.”

“Stay? You presume to hold an Imperial messenger captive?”

“I’m sending my riders to the Imperial camp to verify your story. It won’t take long.”

“What! You’d risk such a delay during a crisis? Do you think even a superhuman can survive the fallout of such an insult?” Horento pushed back hard, knowing that even a superhuman usually wouldn’t dare provoke the Empire.

But Braxian was unmoved. “I’ll answer for it. Take the Viscount to a secure area.”

The metallic clatter of armor filled the air as several knights broke from the line and approached Horento. Terrified, Horento looked toward Ghislain. Without thinking, he whispered, “W-what should I do?”

The moment the words left his mouth, he knew he’d failed. Braxian’s eyes narrowed, and his hand flew to his sword hilt.

Simultaneously, Ghislain gave the order: “Break through!”

**Kwaaaang!**

Ghislain lunged at Count Braxian with explosive speed. His blade cleared its scabbard in a blur, aiming straight for Braxian’s throat.

**Kaaang!**

Braxian caught the strike—he had been coiled and ready. He bared his teeth in a savage grin. “The Julien Mercenary Corps, I assume?”

“You assumed right.”

“Then I’ve just secured my legacy.”

Braxian was genuinely thrilled. To the world, the Julien Mercenary Corps was a prize of unimaginable value. If he delivered them, the Pope’s favor would elevate him to heights he’d only dreamed of. He didn’t care how they had escaped the Empire or why Horento was with them; all that mattered was that they were here, and they were trapped.

Braxian lashed out at Ghislain with a heavy strike and bellowed, “Slay them all! Leave no one standing!”

He was certain the Sacred Stones were on them. If they had made it this far, they had to be carrying the treasure.

**Kwaaaang!**

The collision of their blades sent shockwaves through the air. The Snowbur forces surged inward, their spears leveled at the mercenaries in a tight, suffocating circle.

Suddenly, dark mists swirled around the Julien Mercenary Corps.

**Flaaash!**

Death Knights materialized in an instant, forming a wall of bone and steel to intercept the charging soldiers. Julien and Kyle took the lead, their swords carving wide arcs of destruction.

**Kwaaaang!**
“Guaaahhh!”

Soldiers were tossed aside like straw. Ereneth began summoning spirits to bolster the line, while Marika’s daggers hummed through the air, striking down threats from every angle.

**Bang! Bang! Baaang!**

A gap began to form in the enemy ranks. The mercenaries didn’t hesitate; they charged as a single unit. They ignored the danger to their rears and sides, focused entirely on Ghislain’s command to push through.

Viscount Horento was pinned against Osvald’s side, shaking violently with his eyes squeezed shut. *Please, let me survive this…* he prayed. He had wanted someone to catch on, but not while he was in the crossfire. Now Braxian wanted everyone dead, and his only hope for survival lay with the very mercenaries he had hoped to betray.

The Snowbur troops threw themselves into the path of the charge.

“Seize them!”
“Don’t let a single one through!”
“Wall them off with your lives!”

Under such heavy pressure, even the elite Julien Mercenary Corps struggled to maintain momentum, their previous exhaustion weighing on them.

Then, Naktura manifested in the air, swirling out of a cloud of black smoke. “Haa… this group is truly something else. Are you people completely mad?”

He watched them fight with a manic glee. He needed the Julien Mercenary Corps to stay alive; they were the only thing providing him this much entertainment. Naktura leveled his staff at the blockade ahead.

**Kwaaang!**

A massive pillar of lightning tore through the Snowbur ranks. For a heartbeat, the path was cleared. Julien and Kyle exploited the opening instantly. Lightning continued to rain from the sky as Naktura bombarded the battlefield.

**Baaang! Baaang! Baaang!**

Soldiers were reduced to cinders, and the mercenaries gained speed. The enemy casters tried to throw up mana shields, but they lacked the power of the Imperial mages. Without a 7th-circle mage to lead them, their defenses were flimsy against the dragon’s wrath.

Death Knights continued to absorb the brunt of the side attacks, acting as mindless shields. When a gap appeared in the formation, Ereneth’s spirits rushed to fill it. It was a masterpiece of coordination, but the sheer weight of the Snowbur numbers meant the encirclement was constantly reforming.

The enemy officers saw their chance. “Aim for the horses! Bring them down!”

**Neighhh!**

Several mounts collapsed as spears found their mark. The unhorsed mercenaries scrambled to their feet, fighting off waves of attackers, but they were quickly being separated from the main group led by Julien and Kyle. This was the nightmare of being outnumbered—the “wall of bodies” was starting to win.

Naktura tried to clear the sides, but the front would just clog up again. “Tsk, if I could just incinerate the whole lot of them at once,” he grumbled.

Unlike the battle with the Empire, he had to be careful not to kill his own side. One stray blast and the mercenaries would be gone. Plus, he was hitting a wall; his mana reserves were dangerously low.

“Damn it… I should have been more frugal earlier.”

He had spent a fortune of energy clashing with the Imperial shields and their holy magic. He hadn’t had the days required to recover.

**Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!**

A volley of arrows hissed through the air toward Naktura.

“Grhhk… you pathetic insects…”

He snarled as each arrow that hit his barrier drained more of his precious mana. Seeing that their shields were failing, the enemy mages switched to all-out offense, hurlings spells at the dragon in the sky.

**Boom! Thunk! Tatatatang! Kwooom!**

Naktura felt his strength waning with every hit. “You brainless mortals! I will teach you the meaning of true horror!” he roared, though he knew he was reaching his limit. He shifted his focus entirely to defense, teeth gritted against the onslaught.

“Just you wait… I won’t forget this slight…”

The mercenaries were flagging. The breakthrough was stalling out as the Snowbur army pressed in from all sides. Just as the circle was about to collapse—

A melodic, powerful voice cut through the chaos. It was Deneb, her voice raised in a holy plea.

“O Goddess, let Your light banish our fear. Raise Your shimmering walls to guard us, that we may breathe easy within Your embrace.”

**Flaaash!**

Radiant energy erupted from her, a blinding white light that signaled the ultimate form of protection.

“W-what is happening?!”
“A barrier! It’s a wall of light!”
“Deneb is out of her mind!”

The mercenaries stared in disbelief. Two massive, towering walls of holy radiance slammed down on either side of the corps, cutting them off from the Snowbur army. The walls stretched forward like a glowing highway. Any enemy soldiers caught inside the corridor were quickly finished off, while those outside hammered uselessly against the barrier.

**Bang! Baaang! Bang!**

“What the hell is this?!”
“Can divine power actually do this?”
“This scale is impossible!”

The soldiers outside were in a panic. They had seen divine shields before, but never a structural manifestation of this magnitude.

Kyle let out a boisterous laugh. “Look at that! That is the power of our Saintess! Get on your knees!”

With the flanks secure, the mercenaries only had to deal with the few enemies left inside the corridor. Julien and Kyle cleared them out in seconds, and the rest of the corps followed. They were stunned, but their survival instincts were sharp—they pushed forward with everything they had.

High above, Naktura recoiled as the holy aura washed over him. “Ghh… what kind of priestess is she…?”

Not since the ancient wars had he seen someone—other than perhaps the Pope—exhibit such raw divine authority. “Is she truly a Saintess? These people are a nightmare!”

He couldn’t stay in the air much longer. The enemy mages were dragging him down with persistent spells, and his mana was nearly spent. Naktura decided to retreat, flying along the safe path created by Deneb’s light.

“Pitiable mortals… thank your luck today. I shall return to finish what I started…” He couldn’t resist a final boast; it was a matter of pride.

The Death Knights dissolved, but the mercenaries had already broken the line. The gap between them and the Snowbur army grew.

Suddenly, Deneb turned ghostly pale and slumped in her saddle.

**Whish!**

Marika lunged from her horse, catching the girl before she hit the ground and pulling her onto her own mount. Even with her growing power, that spell had been far beyond Deneb’s physical limits. She had given everything.

Marika glared at Lionel, who was staring blankly. “Lionel! Wake up!”

“Y-yeah. Right. I’m sorry.”

Lionel’s job was to protect her, yet he had been so caught in his own head that he hadn’t even noticed her collapse. Marika saw the inner turmoil in his eyes and sighed.

*I get it… the shock is a lot to handle,* she thought. *But being useless right now just puts everyone in danger. He has to snap out of it on his own.*

She focused on the road ahead, holding the unconscious Deneb tightly.

**Dududududu!**

The Julien Mercenary Corps put more distance between themselves and the enemy. Those who had lost horses were now riding double. It looked like they would make it.

However, Ereneth kept looking back over her shoulder. *Ghislain…*

He was back there, holding off a superhuman alone so they could escape. Soon, the entire weight of the Snowbur army would fall on him. She fought the urge to turn around.

*Hold on. Ghislain will find a way. He always does.*

She knew that in her current state, she would only be an obstacle. Ghislain’s orders were always right, and “break through” was the only way they all survived. Still, the worry gnawed at the heart of every mercenary as they fled.

And Ghislain, the man they were all terrified for?

**Clang! Baaang! Kaga-ga-ga-gang!**

“Ha, not bad at all,” Ghislain laughed, his eyes bright with the thrill of the fight. “The superhumans of this age really do know how to keep things interesting.”

He was locked in a fierce duel with Count Braxian, a wide, excited grin plastered across his face.