The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations Novel - Chapter 804

Chapter 804
Hooooooo—!

The majestic blare of a massive horn cut through the atmosphere as the banners of the Empire and the Holy See were cast wide, clearing a path.

Step! Step! Step! Step!

Moving in a singular, flawless rhythm, the Holy Temple Knights advanced, their pristine white plate armor shimmering. Between their ranks, emerging as if stepping through a curtain of liquid gold, the Pope appeared. Adorned in a magnificent platinum crown and a golden mask that reflected the sun’s glare, he exuded a divine sovereignty so potent it felt as though a god had donned mortal flesh and walked the earth.

“The Holy Father is here!”

The surrounding crowds erupted in cries of devotion, their bodies hitting the dirt in humble prostration. Though the Pope remained silent, his sheer, suffocating presence commanded the entire horizon.

Ghislain adjusted his grip on his spear, his knuckles white as he locked eyes with the pontiff. After a tense, drawn-out silence, the Pope finally spoke.

“……It has been quite some time.”

“I trust you have been well, Your Holiness?”

“I have not had a moment’s rest because of you,” the Pope replied, his voice vibrating with a fury he was barely holding back. He shifted his gaze toward Deneb. “The False Saintess. I wonder, who granted you such a title?”

Deneb remained mute. It wasn’t a name she had ever claimed for herself; rather, from the moment she tapped into the Sacred Stone’s power, the world had simply bestowed it upon her by instinct.

Iralniel stepped into the gap to defend her. “It is a tragedy that we find ourselves at odds. However, the Blessing Stone chose Deneb. That alone justifies her title.”

Grondal grunted in agreement, his voice booming. “Listen, Pope! The Master of the Guardian Stone is Deneb! The dwarves have spoken! Put a leash on your avarice!”

The Pope gave a short, hollow laugh. When he spoke again, his voice had lost its heat, replaced by a terrifying, frigid composure. “By what right do you appoint a master? You were nothing but caretakers of the Stones. You never owned them.”

Grondal’s face flushed with rage. “We protected them for age upon age! If we aren’t the ones to decide the master, then who is?”

The Pope tilted his head back with cold arrogance. “I am the master of the Sacred Stones.”

“What did you say?”

“I am the one destined to use their strength to wipe out the Demonic Realm and preserve this world. Is that concept truly so difficult for you to grasp?”

“You think too highly of yourself,” Grondal snarled, his hand creeping toward the handle of his axe. He wasn’t the sort of man to let such hubris go unanswered.

Iralniel put a hand out to steady him before looking back at the Pope. “I hadn’t realized your temperament was so… severe. What is your goal? Are you going to resort to violence to take them?”

The Pope ignored her, focusing instead on Ghislain. Though Julien held the title of commander, the Pope recognized that Ghislain was the true engine behind their actions.

“You requested an audience. Speak then. What do you want?”

“I have three paths to offer Your Holiness.”

“Paths? Puhuhuhuhu…” The Pope’s frame shook with dark mirth. The idea of mere soldiers of fortune dictating terms to the sovereign of the continent was as ridiculous as it was entertaining. “Fine. Speak. I’ll listen to your nonsense.”

“First, reconcile with us.”

“…Excuse me?”

“The fight against the Demonic Realm is a burden we all share. Recognize Deneb as the Saintess and let us form a united front. I am suggesting we find a way to coexist without bloodshed.”

“I decline. Give me the second.”

“You’re in quite a rush. Fine. Then simply loan them to us.”

“……”

“You don’t need to acknowledge her status. But when the dust settles and the war is won, we will hand the Sacred Stones over to you. The only thing that matters right now is the struggle against the Demonic Realm, isn’t it?”

For Ghislain, victory against the demons was the only objective. It was the same goal Julien and Deneb held—the true purpose of a Hero and a Saintess. Once the threat was gone, the Stones would be irrelevant.

But the Pope saw things differently. “I decline. To preserve existence, I must be the one to wield that power. I have no intention of waiting until the war is over.”

“Even though the Stones have already accepted Deneb?”

“That is your interpretation. It is not mine.”

Ghislain let out a dry, sharp laugh. “Then are you claiming the Stones have accepted you, Your Holiness?”

“What?”

“You have a Sacred Stone in your possession, don’t you? I’m asking a simple question: Can you actually use it?”

“You arrogant little brat…”

A monumental surge of aura exploded from the Pope’s body. The pressure was so immense it felt as though the very air was being crushed into lead.

Rumble…!

“Kh, kuh-uk!”

“Your Holiness! Stop, please!”

“Ghhhkk….”

Even the highest-ranking cardinals and elite knights found themselves gasping for air under the weight of the Pope’s wrath. Ghislain and his companions summoned their own strength to keep from being flattened.

As the Pope’s pressure intensified, threatening to consume them, Iralniel and Grondal finally unleashed their full power to push back.

BOOM!

The collision of their spirits sent a physical shockwave through the clearing. Everyone present was stunned by the Pope’s raw capability. To hold down so many legendary figures with nothing but a flare of temper was unheard of. Iralniel and Grondal were particularly floored.

‘Has the Pope always been this terrifying?!’

‘This makes no sense… he is on a completely different level than his predecessors.’

The idea that he could radiate such power by sheer divine force was staggering. Ghislain, too, was forced to re-evaluate.

‘I knew he was formidable, but…’

Behind the Pope’s usual veil, it had been impossible to accurately measure his depth. He had relied on rumors and the fear of others. But facing it head-on was a different reality. This was a mere fraction of his potential, yet it already defied reason.

‘How? How is this much power possible?’

Divine energy was a fundamental force of the world, but it wasn’t something a person could grow through training. It was an innate gift. While it could expand, the mechanism for its growth was a mystery. For the Pope to have reached this level meant he was practically saturated in the blessings of the goddesses—much like Parniel or Piote.

‘If he’s this powerful, the Stones should have recognized him already.’

And yet, the Pope couldn’t even activate the Stone he currently held. Ghislain felt a nagging sense of wrongness.

“Huff… huff…”

As the Pope pulled back his energy, he looked uncharacteristically strained. Gone was the effortless grace he usually maintained. Ghislain watched him closely; divine power was bleeding out of the Pope in erratic bursts, growing increasingly unstable.

‘That look…’

It resembled the clash of fire and ice—conflicting forces warring within him, causing his aura to fracture.

‘Why is that happening?’

Divine energy was supposed to be the ultimate purity. Such a volatile reaction shouldn’t occur in a body fueled by it alone. Ghislain couldn’t tell if the Pope was pushing himself too hard or if he had simply lost the ability to contain his own strength.

Suddenly, the Pope’s hand trembled as he gripped his mask. For a split second, glowing sigils of light shimmered across the metal. The same flickering occurred across various pieces of jewelry the Pope was wearing.

‘Sorcery.’

Those weren’t just decorations. They were magical conduits that were clearly doing something to the Pope’s constitution. But Ghislain’s focus shifted when he caught a glimpse of something else.

‘That bracelet…’

It matched the design of the one Deneb carried, embedded with a radiant violet jewel.

‘The final Sacred Stone.’

All four were finally in one place. If they could take it, Deneb would finally reach her full potential as the Saintess. As Ghislain stared at the jewel, the Pope spoke, his voice forced.

“Tell me… the third…”

He looked like a man fighting to keep a lid on a boiling cauldron. Ghislain waited a beat before delivering the final option.

“Resign.”

“…Resign?”

“Yes. Step down from your throne and hand the reins to Deneb. We will take care of saving the world.”

“……”

“There is no reason for Your Holiness to exhaust yourself with these matters. Why are you so obsessed with doing it all yourself?”

From behind the mask, the Pope’s lips curled into a smile. All three options led to the same result: he would never get the Stones. Technically, it was a fair proposal. A person capable of using the Stones had appeared, and there were enough witnesses that it couldn’t be disputed. He could have stayed safe, supported the Saintess, and watched the victory from afar.

The only problem was, he wasn’t interested in that.

The Pope looked around at the gathered assembly and spoke with a voice like falling stones. “I refuse that as well.”

“Then we have nothing left to discuss. Are we just going to stand here and stare at each other?”

Ghislain knew the Pope couldn’t easily order his army to attack, nor did he seem to want to. But the Pope had a different solution in mind.

“I have a proposal of my own.”

“And what is it?”

The Pope pointed a finger at Ghislain, Julien, Kyle, and Deneb—the core group. “You will face me in combat. If you refuse…”

His aura flared again, washing over the field like a tide. “…I will start the war myself and move every soldier I have.”

The Pope intended to wipe out the Saintess and her protectors personally, right here. Ghislain’s face broke into a grin. This was exactly what he had been hoping for. This deadlock could only end if one side broke the other.

‘Just as I thought. He couldn’t help himself.’

Ghislain had intentionally left “fighting” off his list of options. If he had suggested it, it would look like he was looking for a fight. But if the Pope demanded it, the Empire would have to live with the consequences of whatever happened next.

The priests and knights around the Pope immediately erupted in protest.

“Your Holiness! You cannot!”

“You shouldn’t lower yourself to fight these commoners!”

“Please, reconsider! Don’t stain your hands—let us handle them!”

The Pope didn’t move an inch. He couldn’t give up the Stones, and he couldn’t afford a full-scale war between armies. This was his only path forward.

“Julien Mercenary Corps, do you accept?”

“I like your directness. We accept. But… are you really going to do this alone?”

“None of them would be able to keep up with me anyway.”

The imperial officials weren’t actually worried about the Pope losing; they were just worried about his image. Even during their first encounter, no one seemed concerned for the Pope’s safety.

‘It just goes to show how much power he’s hiding.’

Ghislain was genuinely curious to see the limit of that power. Unlike him, Iralniel and Grondal looked sick with worry. They knew how dangerous the Pope was.

“Is there really no other way?”

“If you fail, he takes everything!”

Ghislain waved them off with a smirk. Both sides wanted the Stones; it was better to settle it now. The Pope turned to his followers.

“This is a private matter between me and the Julien Mercenary Corps. The Empire will respect the outcome.”

Ghislain turned to his own side. “If we lose, the Stones go to him. This is the only way to end this, so everyone else—get back.”

Despite the protests of the elf and the dwarf, Ghislain and the Pope remained firm. Eventually, the two massive armies began to pull back, leaving only a small circle of combatants.

However, three others refused to move. Ereneth and Marika stayed put, facing the Pope.

“I’m an elf, but I’m a member of this corps. I’m fighting,” Ereneth stated.

“May I join them?” Marika added.

The Pope didn’t even look at them. “Do whatever you like.”

Instead, his eyes landed on someone else. “Lionel. Are you really going to stand against me?”

Lionel looked like a man in physical pain. He hadn’t had a chance to speak as the situation spiraled. Finally, he found his voice.

“Your Holiness… did you really intend to have me killed?”

“Yes. Heresy cannot be tolerated.”

“I was only doing what you told me to do.”

“Then why didn’t you bring me the Stones?”

“……”

“Why did you acknowledge the ‘miracles’ of this girl?”

“……”

“If you want to prove your loyalty, kill that witch right now and bring the Stones to me.”

Lionel closed his eyes. He had spent every day on the journey here rehearsing what he would say to the Pope, hoping to find a way to make him understand. His friends had given him the silence he needed to process his grief. He had wanted to save the Pope, if not for himself, then for the world.

But looking at the man now, he realized that words were useless. The Pope was unmovable. And the person standing there wasn’t a man of God.

Lionel opened his eyes. His voice was thick with emotion as he made his choice.

“I will… fight you, Your Holiness.”

The decision was final.

Would you like me to paraphrase more chapters or focus on a specific scene next?