The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations Novel - Chapter 806

Chapter 806
The true depth of the Pope’s strength remained a mystery to everyone, himself included. He was perpetually unable to manifest his peak potential because he was never truly fighting one battle at a time. During the chaotic clash with the Julien Mercenary Corps, the energy he displayed was merely a fraction of his total reserves. The remainder of his spirit was locked in a grueling, internal war against a haunting, spectral presence.

[^Kill…….#^&#%&$]

The more vibrant that phantom voice became, the closer the Pope drifted toward total insanity. He had spent an exhausting amount of effort trying to drown out the noise, but he knew the struggle was futile unless he secured every last Sacred Stone to bind the entity.

[^Kill…….#^&#%&$]

“Be… silent…” he hissed.

The darkness was beginning to consume him, filling his mind with an all-encompassing malice. He realized he needed to execute the pretender saintess immediately before his consciousness slipped away entirely. These annoying pests could be dealt with once she was dead.

Bang! Kwaang! Bang! Kwaang!

Yet, the mercenaries refused to break, throwing themselves into his path with suicidal determination. The Pope finally recognized his error; he should have wiped them out from the start rather than underestimating their collective combat history. It was a mistake born of his own hubris.

Seeing no other choice, he reached deeper into his reserves. A violent tempest of holy radiance erupted from his form.

Kwaaaaaaang!

The sudden explosion of energy sent the Julien Mercenary Corps stumbling back in shock. Even before this surge, the Pope had been managing to suppress every master-level combatant on the field simultaneously—a feat that already placed him beyond the constraints of mortal limits. Now, as his power scaled even higher, the witnesses felt a sense of existential dread. Where did such a bottomless well of power originate?

“Fall back for a moment!” Ghislain shouted, sensing the shift in the air. The group retreated, keeping their guard up.

Suddenly, the Pope stopped moving, his hands clutching his skull as he went rigid. The internal screaming reached a deafening crescendo.

[^Kill…….#^&#%&@!]
[^Kill…….#^&#%&$]

“Ghhhkk….”

With veins bulging and eyes swimming in blood, the Pope let out a primal howl.

“Quiet!” he screamed. “Silence! I told you to shut up! I will end her! I will slaughter the false saintess and bring salvation to this world!”

The outburst left the battlefield in a stunned silence. Ghislain watched with a deep scowl, whispering to himself.

“Has he finally lost his mind?”

It wasn’t uncommon for warriors to lose their tempers in the heat of battle, but this was different. The Pope looked less like a man in a rage and more like a man having a frantic argument with an invisible ghost. Ghislain suspected this mental instability was the core of the man’s terrifying power.

Ghislain glanced toward the distant Imperial Army. The high-ranking clergy and the cardinals were watching the Pope’s seizure with tense, grim expressions, but notably, they didn’t look shocked. This confirmed Ghislain’s suspicion: this was a recurring affliction.

When the Pope finally lowered his hands, the fit had passed. He stood with his head bowed for a moment before snapping his gaze upward.

Paaaaaah!

A blinding brilliance saturated the world. It wasn’t just light; it was a holy hurricane, a searing judgment that felt as though it were melting the very souls of those caught in its wake.

“…Alright then,” Ghislain muttered, his grip tightening on his weapon as the heat became unbearable, feeling as if his skin were being flayed from his bones.

Kwaaaaaaang!

With every stride the Pope took, the ground shattered and the atmosphere itself seemed to fracture. The sheer weight of his aura bore down on the Julien Mercenary Corps like a falling mountain. Ghislain struck first, his spear blurring toward the Pope’s chest.

Kaaang!

The impact told him everything he needed to know. The Pope was no longer the man he had been moments ago. The spear failed to even graze him. With a casual wave of his hand, the Pope swatted Ghislain through the air. Even while flying backward, Ghislain retaliated with magic.

Fwoooosh!

Pillars of fire erupted around the Pope, but he simply walked through the center of the blaze, his robes and skin untouched. Kyle took advantage of the distraction, swinging his blade with a frigid, razor-sharp blue aura.

Kaaaang!

It was like striking a mountain of diamond. Kyle’s expression crumbled into shock. Previously, even if they couldn’t land a killing blow, they could at least feel his energy depleting. Now, it felt as though they were hitting an infinite, indestructible wall.

“You son of a—”

Kwaaang!

Before the curse could leave his lips, Kyle was blasted away. Julien immediately followed up, aiming a lethal strike at the Pope’s throat.

Kagagagak!

Even Julien’s mastery couldn’t pierce the radiant skin. He narrowly dodged a counter-strike and tried again, but the result was identical.

Bang!

Julien was sent tumbling across the dirt. The spirits summoned by Ereneth were torn to shreds by a simple gesture from the Pope, and Marika’s daggers were ignored as if they were nothing more than dust motes.

The Pope was an unstoppable force, advancing steadily toward Deneb while muttering to his internal passenger.

“Hold. I am nearly there.”
“I hear you.”
“Yes… her death is certain.”

He was a walking portrait of insanity, but the mercenaries couldn’t afford to analyze his madness.

Kwaang! Kwaang! Kwaaaaang!

They threw themselves at him repeatedly. He moved with no regard for defense, leaving himself open to strikes that even a child could land. But it didn’t matter. Every hit was neutralized by his aura, and he swatted them away like bothersome insects as he drew closer to Deneb. Lionel stepped into the path, bracing his shield with everything he had.

“Don’t let him pass!”

Ghislain’s voice rang out as he finally tapped into the Power of Will.

Woooooong…

He had hoped that a coordinated team effort would be enough, assuming the Pope was merely a tier above a prophet. He had been drastically wrong. The man before him was the strongest entity he had ever encountered—comparable to the Julien from his visions or the legendary Adversary.

Kwaaaaaaaang!

Space warped. Ghislain’s spear, fueled by the laws of reality, lunged for the Pope’s head. For the first time, the Pope actually looked at his attacker. Their eyes locked.

“You… what exactly are you?” the Pope asked.

He wasn’t speaking through the Power of Will; it was the intuition of a master who had reached the pinnacle of existence. He sensed a foreign, inexplicable essence within Ghislain—something that didn’t belong to the natural order of the world.

Ghislain held his gaze and answered coldly.

“I’m the man who’s going to kill you.”

The Pope offered a small, amused smile.

Kwaaaaaaaaaaang!

The spear struck the Pope’s forehead with world-shaking force. Yet, the Pope didn’t flinch. Even his mask remained intact. Ghislain realized with sinking dread that even this power wasn’t enough to draw blood.

Bang!

A burst of holy light sent Ghislain skyward, blood spraying from his lips.

“Ghislain!” Ereneth screamed, using her spirits to cushion his fall.

A horrific wound had opened in his midsection. Though Deneb’s magic began to close the injury instantly, the combination of the physical trauma and the mental strain of the Power of Will knocked Ghislain unconscious.

The Pope looked around the battlefield with disdain. “Too many gnats.”

Julien and Kyle tried one last desperate assault, but a flare of energy shredded their armor and sent them crashing into the earth. They survived, but were unable to stand as the Pope’s malevolent energy began to eat them alive from the inside.

“Khuk!”
“Ghhk….”

They collapsed, vomiting blood as they desperately tried to circulate their mana to fight off the internal destruction.

Kuuuuung!

A massive earth elemental rose from the ground to crush the Pope while a fire spirit dived from above. The Pope’s radiance simply evaporated them both instantly. The resulting mental backlash hit Ereneth like a physical blow.

“Uaaagh!”

She fell, clutching her head as blood ran from her eyes, her consciousness reeling from the violent death of her spirits. Marika, seeing her friends fall, refused to retreat. She flickered out of sight and reappeared behind the Pope, unleashing a hail of daggers.

The Pope didn’t even turn around. His light barrier pulsed, and the daggers were sent screaming back at her.

Pababababak!

Marika’s eyes went wide as she realized she had lost control over her own steel. The blades riddled her body, leaving her in a bloody heap on the ground.

In the face of such absolute power, things like strategy and teamwork became irrelevant.

Step. Step. Step.

The Pope ignored the dying and the broken, his focus solely on Deneb. Lionel roared one last time, putting his life into his shield as Deneb’s blessing flared.

Kwaaaang!

With a casual flick, the shield disintegrated. Lionel’s arm was snapped like dry wood, and the shockwave crushed bones throughout his chest. He slumped to the ground, barely conscious.

The Pope finally stood before Deneb. She did not look away. Even as he approached, she continued to channel her healing light toward her fallen comrades. The Pope reached out a hand.

“Relinquish the Sacred Stone. For your cooperation, I will make your end swift.”

Deneb remained silent. She had never wanted the stone for power or fame. She had never asked to be called a saintess. She only wanted to protect people. But she knew she couldn’t give it to him. The Stone was vibrating in response to her soul, rejecting the man before her. She could feel its refusal through their shared resonance. More importantly, she knew the Pope was a monster. To give him the Stone would be to doom the world.

“I refuse,” she said firmly.

“……”

“This power is meant for the salvation of all.”

“And I shall be the one to use it for that purpose,” the Pope countered.

“The Sacred Stone does not choose you.”

“You think you can interpret the will of the divine?”

Deneb didn’t answer. She found such a claim arrogant. But the Pope had no such humility.

“The Stone was made for me. I am the only one capable of saving this world.”

He raised his hand to strike. Her power was significant, but he could kill her in a heartbeat.

“It is over, false saintess.”

As he moved to strike, a sudden shiver ran down his spine. He slowly turned his head.

Ghislain was standing up. Against all logic, he was rising again.

“Don’t you dare… say it’s over,” Ghislain croaked, a bloody, savage grin stretching across his face. “Not while my heart is still beating.”

Drrrrrr!

His spear hummed with a desperate amount of mana, but Ghislain knew it wasn’t enough. He needed something that could shatter the foundations of the world.

‘One…’

Wooooong!

The mana in his chest began to spin into a secondary, artificial core.

‘Two…’

He forced a third core to manifest in his right chest, synchronizing the energies. His mana levels spiked, but he pushed further.

‘Three…’

A core formed in his abdomen.

Gaaaaaaahhh!

The pressure was becoming unbearable, his body threatening to tear apart under the strain, but he didn’t stop.

‘Four…’

Veins of red and blue pulsed violently beneath his skin. He looked like a man made of lightning and blood.

“Five,” he whispered.

Paaaaah!

As the fifth core stabilized, his eyes turned a terrifying crimson. Kardnakh glowed with a dark red aura that seemed to liquefy the air around it. Ghislain pulled his spear back.

“Try to survive this.”

Flash!

A line of crimson light tore through the battlefield. The Pope’s eyes widened; he could feel it. This wasn’t just an attack; it was a decree of fate. It was unavoidable. He threw up every divine shield he possessed.

The red light erased the barriers as if they were made of mist. There was no sound of impact—just total erasure.

Thud!

The spear buried itself in the Pope’s chest. His raw power was so immense that he wasn’t instantly killed, but Ghislain wasn’t done. He pulled Gramdir from his storage and swung with everything he had.

Kagagagagak!

The blade, wreathed in that same red light, carved a deep path through the Pope’s body. Even then, the Pope stood his ground, his divine energy already struggling to seal the massive wound.

Ghislain prepared for a decapitating blow, but then he paused.

Clink.

The mask that had hidden the Pope’s features split down the center and fell away. Ghislain stared in absolute horror at the face underneath.

It was a face he knew far too well.

“…Duke Delphine?”

The man leading the holy see was Ernheart—the very man who had been his sworn enemy in the future.