The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations Novel - Chapter 805

Chapter 805
Responding to Lionel’s declaration, the Pope let out a mocking, cold laugh.
“So, you have abandoned your piety after letting that sorceress capture your heart.”
“……”
“I cannot sense even a flicker of your holy essence anymore. Tell me. Where has that glorious light vanished to?”
“……”
“And you still claim you are the righteous one? You dare speak of devotion when you surrendered your sacred gifts simply to follow a heretic?”
“……”
When Lionel offered no defense, the Pope raised his palm and made a sharp, dismissive motion.
“Go then. Strike me if you wish. Adding one more gnat to the swarm changes nothing.”
Even though Lionel’s decision was an act of treason, the Pope remained indifferent. He had already resolved to execute Lionel once the conflict concluded.
In reality, it wasn’t just him. Every prominent officer of the Julien Mercenary Corps standing alongside the pretender would perish.
That was the reason he had intentionally delayed their deaths—so he could personally end them when the time was right.
If they survived, the legend of the false saintess would persist. By wiping out every major witness, he would ensure that no one ever dared to whisper the word “saintess” again.
It was the only method to ensure his own divinity remained unblemished.
“……”
Lionel stood in silence for a few seconds, then moved toward Deneb. He dropped to his knees and leaned down to kiss the top of her foot.
“W-what are you doing?!”
Alarmed, Deneb pulled her foot back quickly.
“……”
A tense, clumsy silence filled the air.
Lionel squeezed his eyes shut, reached out to grab her ankle, and pulled it firmly toward him. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of her foot before standing up.
“Saintess, from this moment on, my existence belongs only to you—I am your first servant.”
Whirling around, Lionel slowly hoisted his shield. His focus was locked entirely on the Pope.
His pledge echoed through the area, grave and unshakable, witnessed by everyone on the field.
“My promise is sturdier than granite, and my devotion will outlast the stars. Wherever your steps fall, that is the road I shall walk. Even if it is filled with thorns, I will pave the way with my own blood.”
In a tone thick with determination, like a man uttering his final testament, Lionel announced:
“I shall live as your primary servant… and I shall die as your primary servant.”
Flash!
Suddenly, a brilliant azure radiance erupted from his shield.
Those nearby were stunned. The warrior who had never been able to cross the boundary of mastery had, in a single heartbeat, risen to the status of a superhuman.
However, Ghislain merely smirked, as if he had foreseen this outcome.
‘At last. You certainly took your time.’
Lionel had always possessed the potential to ascend.
Through relentless training, he had gathered more internal energy than his body could hold, and under the guidance of Ghislain, his martial forms had achieved flawless execution.
He had stacked one life-or-death battle experience upon another, repeatedly risking everything.
‘The obstacle was always his spirit.’
No one can reach the superhuman stage without first defining their own inner world.
Pulled between his duty to the Pope and his devotion to the saintess, Lionel had been unable to ground his heart.
But after witnessing the Pope’s true nature, he finally made his choice.
To serve and shield the saintess.
A cleric constructs his reality upon his convictions. That is the path to transcendence.
Though Lionel’s holy power had faded, the pillar of his world remained his faith.
And the moment he dedicated himself to protecting the true vessel of the goddess—he finally crossed into the superhuman realm.
Thump!
Lionel took a heavy step forward, his grip tightening on his shield.
“Unless you break through me, you will not touch so much as a thread of the Saintess’s garments.”
“You pathetic traitor…”
The Pope’s pressure expanded violently.
The Church recognized no such saintess.
Yet here was their most gifted temple knight pledging himself as her vassal, ascending to greatness in the very same breath.
If it were just a simple betrayal, he could just kill him. But to swear fealty to the saintess and awaken in that exact moment…
…it created the illusion that the Pope was the villain and the saintess was the truth.
Vroooom…
A massive surge of energy gathered in the Pope’s palm. That power, labeled as divine but now saturated with hatred, seemed poised to wipe out everything in its path.
His hollow voice rang in the ears of all present.
“This day… you shall receive the wrath of God.”
Boom!
The Pope’s frame blurred forward, aiming a lethal strike at Lionel, intending to crush both him and Deneb behind him.
Lionel didn’t flinch. He gritted his teeth and funneled every ounce of his new strength into his shield.
Crasssssh!
A violent shockwave rippled outward.
The impact was so powerful that the surrounding fighters were blown back by the gust.
However—
“Gah!”
Spitting blood, Lionel held his ground. A deep furrow formed in the earth beneath his boots.
He had not moved an inch. To shield Deneb, he had chosen to stand firm. He threw his entire being into intercepting the Pope’s blow.
Lionel forced a bloody smile.
“Well? Am I finally worthy of being the Saintess’s servant?”
Fires of fury ignited in the Pope’s eyes.
That he would dare to protect a witch and block a holy strike—!
He lifted his hand to cave in Lionel’s skull instantly. But in that split second—
Clang!
Ghislain’s spear darted like a bolt of lightning toward the Pope’s head. The Pope jerked his head to the side, narrowly missing the point.
Before he could retaliate, the blades of Julien and Kyle whistled toward his limbs.
The Pope was forced to leap back. Yet the two warriors pursued him without mercy, aiming for his joints and muscles, determined to disable him.
Pushed back, the Pope came to a halt.
Shing!
A dozen knives materialized from the shadows, flying toward him.
Marika’s enchanted blades danced as if they had a mind of their own, surrounding him with lethal accuracy.
From the sky, spirits called forth by Ereneth plummeted down with savage force.
Even a superhuman should have perished in such a coordinated trap.
But the Pope lunged forward once more.
Julien and Kyle struck as he moved, but as he extended his arms, a blinding wall of radiance intercepted them.
Clang! Cling!
Their weapons bounced off the glowing barrier. Then the Pope closed his hands into fists.
K-boom!
The shield detonated, sending Julien and Kyle tumbling backward.
He turned his attention to the knives behind him, but his rhythm was broken.
Wham!
Ghislain’s spear found a flawless gap, driving straight toward the Pope’s torso.
Thud!
But his body was shielded in a thick layer of holy energy. The spear skidded off without drawing blood.
Clatter!
Marika’s knives struck him simultaneously, yet not a single one left a mark.
His defensive power was terrifying.
But the Pope was also becoming uneasy.
‘The Julien Mercenary Corps… they are formidable.’
He had assumed he could sweep them aside, but their prowess exceeded his expectations. Grinding them down would take too long.
So he shifted his strategy.
‘I will slaughter the false saintess first.’
Once she was gone, the Julien Mercenary Corps would have no justification for holding the Sacred Stone. The others could be dealt with at leisure.
The Pope disregarded all other threats. Focusing solely on Deneb, he charged forward again.
Boom!
As the Pope closed the gap in a heartbeat, Lionel braced himself.
The Pope’s strength was staggering. Even with his superhuman awakening, Lionel could barely withstand a direct hit.
Nevertheless, he refused to yield. Even if it meant his death, he would shield Deneb.
To him, she was the only light capable of redeeming this falling world.
“Seek forgiveness… in the afterlife.”
The Pope reached out. His velocity was so great that even Ghislain and the others couldn’t get back in time.
A stone spirit summoned by Ereneth managed to pull a massive wall from the earth just in time.
Crash!
The Pope smashed through the obstacle in one hit, but the effort slowed his momentum for a fraction of a second.
In that tiny window of time, Deneb’s melodic voice echoed.
“O Goddess, come to us. Erase all sorrow, and wrap us in the timeless grace of the light.”
Flash!
Upon Lionel’s shield, a glowing barrier erupted—nearly identical to the one the Pope had used. No, it wasn’t the same… it felt far more pure.
Radiance slammed into radiance.
Rumble!
“Ugh!”
The earth beneath Lionel cracked, his body shoved back by the sheer physical weight of the strike.
But thanks to Deneb’s intervention, he held firm and stopped the Pope’s advance.
And her grace didn’t just touch Lionel. Everyone standing against the Pope was suddenly bolstered by her blessing.
Ghislain’s spear, Julien and Kyle’s blades, Ereneth’s spirits, and Marika’s daggers all descended on the Pope together.
Kaboom!
The holy shield surrounding him flickered and detonated repeatedly, the sounds of the impacts tearing through the air.
Yet the Pope remained unharmed. His internal energy negated every strike, and the resulting shockwaves swept across the ground, clearing the area.
Boom!
One by one, the attackers were knocked back.
“Tch.”
Ghislain wiped a trail of blood from his chin and gripped his spear tighter.
‘He is more powerful than I anticipated.’
It wasn’t just that the Pope had an endless supply of holy energy.
His form showed he had undergone rigorous combat training. Even in terms of pure technique, he was a master.
However, in terms of finesse and battle-hardened skill, Ghislain’s team had the advantage. Their strikes only failed because of the thick layer of energy protecting him.
‘We must keep exhausting his reserves.’
If they continued to pressure him, he would eventually deplete his pool of energy and leave a gap in his defense.
Furthermore, the Pope was obsessed—he only wanted Deneb. In his mind, killing her ended the war.
This was their opportunity, while his attention was locked on her.
“Keep the pressure on! Do not stop!”
At Ghislain’s command, they all rushed forward again.
Clang! Crash! Boom!
Blow after blow hammered against the Pope.
Perhaps feeling the drain of maintaining such high output, he began to evade more frequently, his movements becoming more frantic.
He looked like a man being hunted, desperate and cornered.
Ghislain smiled to himself at the sight.
‘Excellent. He’s losing his composure.’
The Pope’s raw power was immense, exceeding even the high-ranking members of the Salvation Order.
And his martial ability was enough to challenge the best fighters present.
But Ghislain knew he had a fatal flaw.
‘He lacks real combat experience.’
How could the head of the Church ever have engaged in a true struggle for survival?
When evaluating his own strength, he had likely only compared his energy levels to those around him.
Even the decision to engage the Julien Mercenary Corps came from that vanity—judging the size of their auras and assuming victory was guaranteed.
But look at him now. In the chaos of real battle, faced with shifting variables, he repeated the same predictable patterns, failing to pivot.
Everyone there could see it. In terms of experience, everyone present was his superior.
Crash! Clang! Wham!
Ghislain and his allies moved in a perfect flow, striking and retreating, working together in a seamless web of steel.
For the Julien Mercenary Corps, fighting as a single unit was as natural as breathing, perfected over countless wars.
Their flawless coordination left the Pope unable to push forward or escape, trapped in a cycle of defense.
Still, he kept lunging for Deneb. And because of that, he bled more energy, forced to take more hits.
The rest of the group now left Deneb’s immediate safety to Lionel. He was strong enough to hold the line.
Boom!
Every so often, someone was struck and sent tumbling, but they would immediately stand up and rejoin the fray.
With Deneb’s support, they could endure. The impact of the blows was being constantly mended.
Observing from the edge of the clearing, Iralniel and Grondal couldn’t hide their amazement.
“They have become much stronger since our last meeting.”
“Incredible. Only a few years, and they have attained this peak.”
Their individual prowess was noteworthy, but their synergy was a masterpiece.
If not for the Pope’s absurd defensive output, the battle would have concluded minutes ago.
They weren’t the only ones in awe. Every spectator felt the crushing weight of the Corps’ unity and the Pope’s might.
But even so, the Pope, with all his strength, could not reach Deneb. Every time he made a move, Lionel’s iron shield was there to stop him.
Clang! Crash! Boom!
As the fight continued, the Pope’s eyes began to show signs of doubt.
Anxiety began to take hold.
‘…This is becoming a problem.’
It wasn’t just his lack of experience that kept him from fighting rationally.
He was fundamentally unstable. That was why he was so desperate to end it quickly by killing Deneb.
But every strike he threw was parried by the narrowest of margins. The Julien Mercenary Corps were far more powerful, and their teamwork far tighter, than he had bargained for.
‘…My strength is fading.’
And for him, that realization was horrifying.
Not because he feared being weak—but because the presence he had been holding back with his holy power… was starting to wake up.
[@#One……%$#@]
The voice inside his mind grew sharper and more distinct with every passing second.